Job Read online

  JOB

  JOB

  A NEW TRANSLATION

  EDWARD L. GREENSTEIN

  Published with assistance from the Louis Stern Memorial Fund.

  Copyright © 2019 by Yale University.

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  ISBN 978-0-300-16234-9 (hardcover : alk. paper)

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  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  A human, born of woman,

  Is short of days and sated with restlessness.

  He sprouts like a flower and withers.

  He flees like a shadow and does not stay.

  —Job 14:1–2

  This work is dedicated to the memory of my students

  who passed on well before their time.

  Thomas Lichtman

  Ran Zohar

  Matthew Eisenfeld

  Seth Brody

  Richard Thaler

  Zvia Ginor

  Cynthia Culpeper

  Alan Lew

  Daniel Wagner

  Joel Wasser

  Ellen Singer

  Rami Wernick

  Yaakov Thompson

  Thea Friedman

  Evan Jaffe

  Ilana Sasson

  Whom the gods love dies young.

  —ancient Greek epigram

  Contents

  Preface

  A Note on the Transcription of Hebrew and Other Semitic Languages

  A Note on (Not) Translating the Names of God

  Introduction

  JOB

  Prologue (1:1–2:13)

  Job’s Opening Discourse (3:1–26; 4:12–21)

  Eliphaz’s First Discourse (4:1–11; 5:1–27)

  Job’s Response to Eliphaz (6:1–7:21)

  Bildad’s First Discourse (8:1–22)

  Job’s Response to Bildad (9:1–10:22)

  Zophar’s First Discourse (11:1–20)

  Job’s Response to Zophar (12:1–14:22)

  Eliphaz’s Second Discourse (15:1–35)

  Job’s Response to Eliphaz (16:1–17:16)

  Bildad’s Second Discourse (18:1–21)

  Job’s Response to Bildad (19:1–29)

  Zophar’s Second Discourse (20:1–29)

  Job’s Response to Zophar (21:1–34)

  Eliphaz’s Third Discourse (22:1–30)

  Job’s Response to Eliphaz (23:1–24:17, 24:25)

  A Secondary Response to Job (24:18–24)

  Bildad’s Third Discourse (25:1–26:14)

  Job’s Response to Bildad (27:1–23)

  Job’s Closing Discourse (29:1–31:40)

  Elihu’s First Discourse (32:1–33:33)

  Elihu’s Second Discourse (34:1–37)

  Elihu’s Third Discourse (35:1–16)

  Elihu’s Fourth Discourse (36:1–37:24; 28:1–28)

  The Deity’s First Discourse (38:1–39:30)

  Job’s Response the the Deity (40:1–5)

  The Deity’s Second Discourse (40:6–41:26)

  Job’s Response to the Deity (42:1–6)

  Epilogue (42:7–17)

  References and Select Bibliography

  Index

  Preface

  I often begin a course or lecture on the biblical book of Job with a well-known quip: in the book of Psalms there is no connection between one chapter and the next; in the book of Proverbs there is no connection between one verse and the next; in the book of Job there is no connection between one word and the next. Although there is not a little whimsy in the last assertion, there inheres in it a certain grain of truth. The Hebrew of Job, with its eccentric idiom and often inscrutable text, poses an extraordinary challenge to the scholar of difficult language, the philologist, the lover of words.

  For over a half a century I have been honing my skills as an interpreter of biblical and other ancient Semitic languages and literatures, publishing academic studies and brief commentary on the book of Job. With the publication of this annotated translation, I share with the reader a fresh reading of the text, drawing on decades of research and close study. My understanding often differs from current translations and commentaries on some of the larger questions and on many details. Although this translation is far from a full commentary, in the accompanying notes I seek, on the one hand, to explicate certain expressions and images and, on the other, to justify the philological choices and suggestions I have made. I have attempted to find an explanation for every word, phrase, and syntactic construction. With all due modesty, I believe this is more than most other translators can claim. Such work requires tremendous patience and effort. The most fundamental principle I have learned and adopted from my best teachers is that ancient texts at one time made good sense. My foremost aim in writing this translation is to make good sense of the text of Job, with all the limitations that are entailed. I have tried to achieve this goal while at the same time trying to reproduce in some form many of the poetic tropes that characterize the work.

  My interest in the issues of the book of Job harks back to my freshman year in college, when I was caught up in the problem of evil—how can a good God allow innocent suffering?—during a course on the philosophy of religion. My fascination with the linguistic and poetic intricacies of the Hebrew text of Job began with an intense and in-depth yearlong course on that book at the Jewish Theological Seminary in New York with Professor H. L. Ginsberg, of blessed memory, who sought to work out every philological and interpretative problem in this most difficult of biblical texts. Ginsberg’s class notes, some of which I could fully understand only years later, formed the foundation of my own investigations into Job. When a small fire broke out on the roof of my house some time ago, the first possession I took pains to remove was my notebook containing Ginsberg’s insights and the many annotations I had added since taking his class in 1972–73. Several of what I regard as my best contributions to the interpretation of the language and discourse of Job I owe to Professor Ginsberg’s genius.

  Having taught the book of Job in one form or another for over four decades and having presented papers and lectures on Job at numerous conferences and in other academic venues, I am very beholden to many students and colleagues, who have provided me with ideas, feedback, and materials. I can hardly remember, much less thank, them all. I would nevertheless like to express special appreciation to Professors Michael V. Fox, Ellen van Wolde, Konrad Schmid, Leong Seow, Carol Newsom, Marc Z. Brettler, Adele Berlin, Steven Weitzman, Alexander Rofé, Peter Machinist, Mordecai A. Friedman, Noam Mizrahi, Scott Jones, Ken Brown, André Lemaire; and to Dr. Uri Melammed, Dr. Takayoshi Oshima, Dr. Jeremy Pfeffer, and Dr. Nissim Amzalleg. My research on Job has enjoyed support from the Abbell Research Fund of the Jewish Theological Seminary, Beit Shalom Japan, the Herzl Institute, and Bar-Ilan University. I have benefited from the research assistance of several former doctoral students and, especially in connection w
ith Job, from Dr. Dominick Hernandez and Dr. Adi Marili. My student Kristina Toshkina has afforded me the benefit of her expertise in Arabic. For some technical assistance I am grateful to Ben Bokser.

  My endeavors in biblical translation have been inspired by the exemplary work of Professor Everett Fox, the preeminent translator of Biblical Hebrew prose. For several years I assisted Everett as a first reader and consultant; I hope he will appreciate that some of his method and sensitivity has rubbed off on me for the better. I am grateful, too, to Professor Mark J. Mirsky, who in 1990 commissioned and published in Fiction magazine my translation of the book of Esther. His constant encouragement has meant much.

  I am extremely grateful to Yale University Press for accepting my proposal to publish a new and different translation of Job. It was Professor Ivan G. Marcus who, having heard a series of lectures he arranged for me at Yale in 2008, brought my project to the attention of Jonathan Brent, at that time the editorial director. Since then it has been Jennifer Banks who has shown interest, encouragement, and exceeding patience in awaiting and receiving my manuscript. I thank her and her assistant, Heather Gold, as well as the production editor, Susan Laity, for seeing this book through the press. Lawrence Kenney has been a wonderful copyeditor. I am also grateful to the readers to whom the Press assigned my manuscript for their very helpful observations.

  My wish is that this new translation will make a difference in the way the inspired and inspiring book of Job is read. In short, the work is not mainly about what you thought it was; it is more subversive than you imagined; and it ends in a manner that glorifies the best in human values.

  A Note on the Transcription of Hebrew and Other Semitic Languages

  Two broad audiences are anticipated for this work. One is a general audience, for whom technical aspects of transcribing Hebrew and other Semitic languages are of limited importance. The other is an audience with a great interest in information about Hebrew and other foreign words that are adduced for purposes of explanation and justification. I have therefore chosen a middle path: sufficient information is provided to the specialist, while keeping the transcription on a nontechnical level amenable to the general reader. Such a reader may be interested in transcriptions in order to see how similar one word is to another, for example, in puns and assonance, or in assessing the plausibility of an emendation (a reading of a different word from the one in the received text, assumed to have been corrupted by scribal error or illegibility in the course of its transmission). The specialist will want to examine all suggestions of readings that differ from the traditional Hebrew text; evaluate proposed cognates from other Semitic languages; and compare terms and phrases in related passages. A minimally accurate transcription, one that does not distinguish similar-sounding consonants, such as tet and taw; one that does not routinely indicate vowel length; and one that does not differentiate the stop consonants (b g d k p t) from their spirantized correlates (v gh dh kh ph th) should be sufficient for the interested Hebraist.

  For the sake of relative accuracy, the guttural ḥ is distinguished from h, and ’aleph (’) and ‘ayin (‘) are differentiated. The consonant waw is transcribed w, not v, in accordance with its ancient pronunciation. The cluster ts is used for Hebrew tsade and sh for shin. Certain fine distinctions in Arabic, such as ḍ in contrast to d and ṣ in contrast to s, are not made here. Specialists will find the requisite word.

  A Note on (Not) Translating the Names of God

  The book of Job was written by a Judean, a Jew, who refers to the deity in the narrative framework of the book by the Israelite name YHWH (read traditionally as ’Adonai, “My Lord”). Originally it may have meant “the One Who Is” or “the One Who Causes to Be.” The name ceased to be pronounced around the time Job was composed, sometime in the Persian period.

  The characters in the book, Job and his companions, are not Israelites but “Sons of Qedem”—Transjordanians. Allusions to the narratives about Israel’s patriarchs and matriarchs place Job and his interlocutors in that era. As non-Israelites of an early period and, so far as we can tell, monotheists, Job and his companions refer to the deity by biblically attested names that are not specifically Israelite: El, Elohim, Eloah, and Shaddai. ’El is the generic term for a deity and when used as a proper name is identical with the name of the head of the Canaanite pantheon. Based on etymology, the name connotes power, not goodness, the way the English term “God” does. Accordingly, to use the term “God” to translate Hebrew ’El would produce an inaccurate impression. When speakers use the name El and its derivatives Elohim (plural) and Eloah (a secondary singular form, made by dropping the plural suffix on Elohim), they do not imply the deity’s goodness but rather his power.

  The name Shaddai, most commonly translated “the Almighty,” is of uncertain origin but is most likely derived from an archaic term for “mountain” (namely, “the One of the Mountain”) or from the word for a divine spirit or demon (shed) or from both. It is used especially in the book of Genesis, usually in combination with El (El Shaddai). In Job it occurs alone or in parallel with El or Eloah.

  In order to avoid an excessive intrusion of modern associations and to preserve the apparent intentions of the poet to create an antique atmosphere, the names of God will not be translated into English equivalents.

  Introduction

  Why a new translation? I have two motives. The first is personal. I have been deeply engaged by the challenges of the book of Job—its themes, literary affiliations, language, and poetics—for over four decades. During this period I have struggled to set the text in the best Hebraic form that I can and to understand it as authentically as I can in as many layers of sense as I can reasonably construe. It has been said that “translation is the most intimate act of reading.”1 My translation project has demanded that I try to find meaning in every detail and nuance of the text. My efforts in this intimate endeavor have been profoundly rewarding, even though I know one could continue this pursuit for many lifetimes.

  The second reason for producing a new translation is on the face of it altruistic—to set the record straight. The book of Job is sometimes touted as the world’s greatest poem. I would hardly challenge that assessment. It is nonetheless a remarkable claim, considering that virtually no reader of the original Hebrew has ever felt satisfied at having understood the poem at the core of the book verse by verse; and that virtually no translator has got a satisfactory amount of it right.

  The earliest translations of Job, into Aramaic and Greek, already exhibit diverse interpretations, often reading a Hebrew word or phrase that is different from the one we have received. The classical rabbis were conflicted about whether the story of Job was historical or fictitious and whether Job was fundamentally pious or blasphemous. Early Christian sources immortalized the patient Job of the prologue, seeing in him, as in the “suffering servant” of Isaiah 53, a prefiguration of Jesus, who, though innocent, suffered greatly and ultimately became a paragon of righteousness and model of divine blessing. Medieval Hebrew scholars made many original suggestions toward the elucidation of this or that word; but they were almost entirely wedded to the traditional text, and they virtually all interpreted the book in line with theologies and philosophies that comported with their own or those of their contemporaries. Early modern and modern translations tend to canonize these traditional understandings, assuming the book has been more or less correctly interpreted.

  However, the meanings of many words and expressions in Job are based on guesswork. One is often hard-pressed to reconcile the language of the translations with the traditional Hebrew text. There is no delicate way to put it: much of what has passed as translation of Job is facile and fudged. Translators have for the most part recycled interpretations that had been adopted earlier, dispensing with the painstaking work of original philological investigation that might lead to new and proper understandings. Modern commentators have made use of the ancient translations, but these were themselves all too often in a quandary. Accordingly,
traditional interpretations have often held sway, and translators have usually followed suit, imposing their notions of what the book of Job is presumed to be saying on their largely unsuspecting audiences. They have, for example, blunted Job’s attack on the deity’s justice and presupposed that Job—who has failed to receive the explanation of his suffering that is revealed to the audience in the book’s prologue and has repeatedly expressed his determination to speak his mind—acquiesces to the deity’s browbeating in the end. In this and in many less significant instances a less prejudiced, or different minded, approach produces the very opposite sense.

  Job’s response to the deity’s lengthy lecture on his prowess as creator and sustainer of the world—and on Job’s total lack of power and esoteric knowledge—is routinely interpreted as surrender. The verse (Job 42:6) has always stymied translators. The earliest translation, an Aramaic version found among the Dead Sea Scrolls at Qumran, interprets: “Therefore I am poured out and boiled up, and I will become dust.”2 The two verbs are parsed entirely differently from the way they are most often understood today. A typical modern translation of Job 42:6 is: “Therefore I despise myself (or: recant), / and repent in dust and ashes.”

  The first part of this translation is a stretch, and the second part turns out, after advanced investigation, to be highly improbable. The verb in the first clause (ma’as) is assumed to be transitive, in need of an object, and the translators supply that object, either explicitly or by implication. Concerning the widespread interpretation as “recant,” it is an invention of the translator—no such usage is attested in ancient Hebrew. It assumes an implicit object, “words” or the like, but no such expression occurs with this sense.3 Concerning the rendering “despise (myself),” the closest phrase one can find occurs in Job 9:21: “I’m fed up with (despise) my life.” However, the verb in question does not need an object. It occurs intransitively in the sense of “I am fed up” in Job 7:16, where it is often rendered correctly. In other words, there is a very weak foundation in biblical parlance for the common rendering. It stems from the presumption of the translator that Job is repentant.