Out of the Storm

“Where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth? Speak up, if you understand. Who set its measurements, if you know? Who stretched a measuring line over it? What were its foundations fixed on? Who laid its cornerstone, when the morning stars sang together and all the sons of God shouted for joy?

“Who shut in the sea behind doors when it burst out of the womb? I made the clouds its clothing and wrapped it in thick darkness. I set its limits and put its bars and doors in place, and I said, ‘You may come this far, but no farther. Here your proud waves must stop.’

“Have you ever in your life given orders to the morning or shown the dawn its place, so that it could take hold of the ends of the earth and shake the wicked out of it? The earth changes like clay pressed by a seal; it stands out like clothing. The wicked are kept from their light, and the arm raised high is broken.

“Have you gone down to the springs of the sea or walked in the hidden depths of the ocean? Have the gates of death been shown to you? Have you seen the gates of death’s dark shadow? Do you understand how wide the earth is? Tell me, if you know all this.

“Which way leads to the home of light? And where does darkness live? Can you take it to its border? Do you know the paths to its home? Surely you know, because you were born back then, and you have lived so many years!

“Who cuts a channel for the floodwater and a path for the thunderstorm? It brings rain on land where no one lives, on a desert with no people in it, to soak the dry and empty ground and make the green grass grow? Does the rain have a father? Who is the father of the drops of dew? Whose womb did the ice come from? Who gave birth to the frost from the sky, when the waters turn as hard as stone and the surface of the deep freezes?

“Can you tie up the cluster of the Pleiades or loosen the ropes of Orion? Can you lead out the groups of stars in their seasons, or guide the Bear with her cubs? Do you know the laws of the heavens? Can you make the heavens rule over the earth?

“Can you shout to the clouds and make a flood of water cover you? Can you send out bolts of lightning, so that they go and say to you, ‘Here we are’? Who put wisdom deep inside, or gave understanding to the mind? Who is wise enough to count the clouds? Who can tip over the water jars of the sky, when the dust runs together into lumps and the clods of earth stick together?

“Do you know when the mountain goats give birth? Do you watch when the deer have their fawns? Can you count the months until they give birth? Do you know the time? They crouch down and have their young, and their labor pains are over. Their young grow strong in the open fields; they go off and don’t come back.

“Who set the wild donkey free? Who untied the ropes of the swift donkey? I gave him the wilderness as his home and the salt flats as the place where he lives. He laughs at the noise of the city and never hears a donkey driver shouting. He roams the mountains for pasture and searches for anything green.

“Will the wild ox agree to serve you? Will he stay by your feeding trough? Can you harness him and keep him plowing in a straight row? Will he plow the valleys behind you? Will you trust him because he is so strong? Will you leave your heavy work to him? Can you count on him to bring your grain home and gather it on your threshing floor?

“The ostrich flaps her wings proudly, but do those wings and feathers show any love? She leaves her eggs on the ground and lets them warm in the dust. She forgets that a foot might crush them or a wild animal trample them. She treats her young harshly, as if they weren’t hers. Her work is for nothing, but she isn’t afraid, because God did not give her wisdom or a share of understanding. But when she rises up high, she laughs at the horse and its rider.

“Did you give the horse his strength? Did you clothe his neck with a flowing mane? Do you make him leap like a locust? His proud snorting is terrifying. He paws the ground in the valley and delights in his strength; he charges out to meet the armed men. He laughs at fear and is not afraid; he doesn’t turn back from the sword. The quiver of arrows rattles against his side, along with the flashing spear and javelin. Fierce and wild, he races across the ground; he can’t stand still when the trumpet sounds. Whenever the trumpet blows, he snorts, ‘Aha!’ He smells the battle from far away, the commanders’ thundering orders and the shouting.

“Is it by your wisdom that the hawk soars and spreads its wings toward the south? Is it at your command that the eagle flies up and builds its nest up high? It lives on the cliff and makes its home there, on a rocky peak, a fortress. From there it looks for its prey; its eyes see it from far away. Its young ones drink blood, and where people lie killed, the eagle is there.”

Then Job answered the Lord. “Look, I don’t count for much. How can I answer you? I put my hand over my mouth. I spoke once, and I won’t answer again; I spoke twice, and I will say no more.”

Then the Lord answered Job out of the whirlwind. “Now brace yourself like a man. I will question you, and you will answer me. Would you even overturn my judgment? Would you condemn me so that you can be in the right? Do you have an arm like God’s? Can you thunder with a voice like his?

“Then dress yourself in glory and splendor; clothe yourself in honor and majesty. Let your furious anger pour out. Look at everyone who is proud and bring him low. Look at everyone who is proud and humble him. Crush the wicked where they stand. Bury them all in the dust together; shut their faces away in the hidden place. Then I myself will admit to you that your own right hand can save you.

“He is chief among the works of God. The one who made him gives him his sword. The mountains bring him food, where all the wild animals play. He lies under the lotus trees, hidden among the reeds in the marsh. The lotus trees cover him with their shade; the willows by the stream surround him. If the river floods, he doesn’t tremble; he stays calm, even if the Jordan rushes up to his mouth. Can anyone catch him while he is watching, or pierce his nose with a trap?

“Can you pull in Leviathan with a fishhook, or tie down his tongue with a rope? Can you put a cord through his nose or a hook through his jaw? Will he beg you for mercy again and again, or speak to you gently? Will he make an agreement with you to be your servant forever? Will you play with him as with a bird, or tie him up for your girls? Will traders bargain for him and divide him among the merchants? Can you fill his skin with harpoons, or his head with fishing spears? Lay a hand on him once, and you will remember the fight and never do it again! Any hope of beating him is useless; just the sight of him knocks people down.

“No one is fierce enough to dare stir him up. Who then can stand before me? Who has given anything to me first, that I should pay him back? Everything under the heavens is mine.

“I will not keep quiet about his limbs, his great strength or his fine body. Who can strip off his outer coat? Who would come inside his jaws? Who can open the doors of his face? His teeth are surrounded by terror. His strong scales are his pride, sealed tightly together. Each one is so close to the next that no air can get between them. They are joined to each other; they stick together and can’t be pulled apart.

“When he sneezes, light flashes out. His eyes are like the first light of dawn. Burning torches shoot out of his mouth; sparks of fire leap out. Smoke pours from his nostrils, like steam from a boiling pot over burning reeds. His breath sets coals on fire, and a flame comes out of his mouth. His neck is full of strength, and terror dances ahead of him. The folds of his flesh are firmly joined; they are solid on him and can’t be moved. His heart is as hard as stone, as hard as the bottom stone of a mill, the one grain is ground on.

“When he rises up, the mighty are afraid; they back away from his thrashing. A sword that reaches him does nothing, and neither does a spear, a dart or an arrow. He treats iron like straw and bronze like rotten wood. Arrows can’t make him run away; stones from a sling are like chaff to him. He thinks of clubs as straw, and he laughs at the rush of a spear.

“His underside is like sharp pieces of broken pottery; he leaves a trail in the mud like a threshing sledge. He makes the deep sea boil like a pot and stirs it like a pot of ointment. He leaves a shining path behind him; you would think the deep had white hair. There is nothing on earth like him, a creature made without fear. He looks at everything that is high; he is king over all the proud.”

“You said, ‘Listen now, and I will speak; I will question you, and you will answer me.’ I had heard about you with my ears, but now my eyes have seen you. That is why I despise myself, and I repent in dust and ashes.”

So Eliphaz the Temanite and Bildad the Shuhite and Zophar the Naamathite went and did what the Lord commanded them, and the Lord accepted Job.

When Job prayed for his friends, the Lord restored his fortunes. The Lord gave Job twice as much as he had before. Then all his brothers and sisters and everyone who had known him before came and ate a meal with him in his house. They comforted him and showed him sympathy for all the trouble the Lord had brought on him, and each of them gave him a piece of money and a gold ring.

So the Lord blessed the end of Job’s life more than its beginning. Job now had fourteen thousand sheep, six thousand camels, one thousand pairs of oxen and a thousand female donkeys. He had seven sons and three daughters as well. His first daughter he named Jemimah, the second Keziah, the third Keren Happuch. Nowhere in the land were there women as beautiful as Job’s daughters. Their father gave them an inheritance alongside their brothers.

After this, Job lived another hundred and forty years. He lived to see his sons and his sons’ sons, four generations in all. Then Job died, an old man who had lived a long, full life.