chapter 9
Then Job answered,
“Truly I know that it is so, but how can man be just with God?
If he is pleased to contend with him, he can’t answer him one time in a thousand.
God is wise in heart, and mighty in strength. Who has hardened himself against him and prospered?
He removes the mountains, and they don’t know it, when he overturns them in his anger.
He shakes the earth out of its place. Its pillars tremble.
He commands the sun and it doesn’t rise, and seals up the stars.
He alone stretches out the heavens, and treads on the waves of the sea.
He makes the Bear, Orion, and the Pleiades, and the rooms of the south.
He does great things past finding out; yes, marvelous things without number.
Behold, he goes by me, and I don’t see him. He passes on also, but I don’t perceive him.
Behold, he snatches away. Who can hinder him? Who will ask him, ‘What are you doing?’
“God will not withdraw his anger. The helpers of Rahab stoop under him.
How much less will I answer him, and choose my words to argue with him?
Though I were righteous, yet I wouldn’t answer him. I would make supplication to my judge.
If I had called, and he had answered me, yet I wouldn’t believe that he listened to my voice.
For he breaks me with a storm, and multiplies my wounds without cause.
He will not allow me to catch my breath, but fills me with bitterness.
If it is a matter of strength, behold, he is mighty! If of justice, ‘Who,’ says he, ‘will summon me?’
Though I am righteous, my own mouth will condemn me. Though I am blameless, it will prove me perverse.
I am blameless. I don’t respect myself. I despise my life.
“It is all the same. Therefore I say he destroys the blameless and the wicked.
If the scourge kills suddenly, he will mock at the trial of the innocent.
The earth is given into the hand of the wicked. He covers the faces of its judges. If not he, then who is it?
“Now my days are swifter than a runner. They flee away. They see no good.
They have passed away as the swift ships, as the eagle that swoops on the prey.
If I say, ‘I will forget my complaint, I will put off my sad face, and cheer up,’
I am afraid of all my sorrows. I know that you will not hold me innocent.
I will be condemned. Why then do I labor in vain?
If I wash myself with snow, and cleanse my hands with lye,
yet you will plunge me in the ditch. My own clothes will abhor me.
For he is not a man, as I am, that I should answer him, that we should come together in judgment.
There is no umpire between us, that might lay his hand on us both.
Let him take his rod away from me. Let his terror not make me afraid;
then I would speak, and not fear him, for I am not so in myself.
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With love, Tom Károly