Job — Chapter 6

Respondens autem Job dixit Utinam

On Job's first reply to Eliphaz: "O that my grief were thoroughly weighed, and my calamity laid in the balances together!" Corderius notes that Job responds directly, giving a reason for his complaint: his calamity truly is heavier than all earthly weights. The comparison to sand of the sea (v. 3) echoes the promise to Abraham — but here sand is a symbol of incalculable weight, not blessing. "Therefore my words are swallowed up" (v. 3) — Corderius follows Pineda in explaining that when suffering exceeds all ordinary measure, words themselves fail to express it. On the response's structure: Corderius praises Job's method of argument — he neither simply contradicts Eliphaz nor capitulates but gives reasons, showing that a prudent and courageous man does not desert the truth by silence when accused, but defends it proportionally, per the legal maxim "one who is silent appears to consent."

Utinam appenderentur peccata mea

On Job's wish for an objective assessment of his sufferings: "O that my vexation were weighed, and all my calamity laid in the balances!" Corderius develops the image of the balance (statera) as a figure for divine justice. In Scripture the balance is a symbol of perfect equity: "a just balance and scales are the Lord's" (Prov. 16:11). Job's request that his suffering be weighed is not arrogance but an appeal to this divine standard: let the magnitude of the affliction be objectively measured against any sin that could have caused it. On v. 3: "For then it would be heavier than the sand of the sea" — not heavier than his sins (which Job denies justifying such suffering), but heavier than any accusation the friends can make against him. Corderius uses the image to develop the theology of proportionality: God's justice is always proportionate; if sufferings exceed what any known sin deserves, there must be a non-retributive purpose (testing, purification, merit-accumulation, divine glory).

Quia sagittae Domini in me sunt

On the arrows of the Almighty: "The arrows of the Almighty are in me, the poison whereof drinks up my spirit." Job attributes his sufferings directly to God, not to chance or demons. Corderius develops this theological point: divine permission is the ultimate cause of Job's suffering, even if the proximate cause is Satan. Job's expression is therefore more theologically precise than attributing his miseries to satanic power alone. On v. 5: "Does the wild ass bray when it has grass? Or does the ox low over its fodder?" — the rhetorical analogy: an animal complains only when truly in need; Job therefore implies that his complaint is proportionate and warranted, not excessive. Corderius notes the analogy presupposes that rational creatures, like animals, have natural cries of distress, and these are not sinful when arising from genuine need. On v. 7: "the things that my soul refused to touch are now my sorrowful food" — what once revolted Job (perhaps coarse food, perhaps the sufferings themselves) has become his daily portion. Corderius sees here an image of the soul's purgation: the bitter is accepted as necessary nourishment.

Quis det ut veniat petitio mea

On Job's wish for death: "Oh that I might have my request, and that God would grant me the thing that I long for — that it would please God to crush me, that he would let loose his hand and cut me off!" Corderius explains this is not suicidal despair but an expression of the desire for the end of torment through natural death divinely granted. On v. 10: "This should be yet my consolation, that in my sorrow I do not spare it" — he finds consolation in the fact that he has not denied the words of the Holy One. Corderius sees here one of Job's most important affirmations: even in extremity he has kept faith. On vv. 11-13: "What is my strength, that I should wait? What is mine end, that I should be patient? Is my strength the strength of stones? Or is my flesh made of brass?" — Corderius uses this to establish that Christian patience does not require the pretense of being impervious to pain; the just man feels his suffering fully; his patience is a victory of the will over the legitimate anguish of nature.

Qui tollit ab amico suo misericordiam

On the failure of Job's friends: "He that withholds kindness from a friend forsakes the fear of the Almighty." Job accuses his friends of a fundamental failure of charity: they came to console but instead afflicted him further. Corderius explains: the duty of friends when one suffers is first to comfort, then — if correction is needed — to do so gently and in season. The image of the dried-up torrent (vv. 15-20): the friends are like the torrential streams of Tema and Saba, which travelers in the desert expect to find but arrive at in the summer only to discover dry riverbeds. They trusted in the streams and were confounded. So Job trusted in the consolation of friends and found nothing. Corderius draws the pastoral lesson: false consolers who increase the sufferer's pain rather than alleviating it are worse than no consolers at all. Gregory (Moral. VIII.1-2) remarks that such consolers attend to the exterior calamity but ignore the deeper providential reason for the affliction, and so always misdiagnose.

Qui tollit ab amico suo misericordiam

On the duty of compassionate consolation: "He who withholds kindness from a friend forsakes the fear of the Almighty." Corderius develops the connection between charity toward the suffering neighbor and the fear of God: the one who fails to console a friend in distress has in fact violated his duty to God, since charity toward the neighbor is a form of service to God (Matt. 25:40). He cites Ambrose (De Officiis I.11): a friend is one who loves not the advantages of friendship but the friend himself — which requires fidelity especially when the friend is stripped of all external advantages. On the dried torrent (vv. 15-20): the most vivid image of false consolation — travelers who cross the desert counting on streams that fail in summer. Job trusted in his friends as travelers trust in desert streams; he arrived to find nothing. Corderius draws the lesson: the test of true friendship is not presence in prosperity but availability in adversity.

Docete me et ego tacebo

On Job's challenge to the friends to show him his errors: "Teach me, and I will be silent; make me understand how I have gone astray. How forceful are upright words! But what does reproof from you reprove?" (vv. 24-25). Corderius notes the intellectual courage of Job's offer: he does not refuse correction but demands that it be based on fact, not on theological inference from his suffering. On v. 26: "Do you think that you can reprove words, when the speech of a despairing man is to the wind?" — Corderius develops the hermeneutics of afflicted speech: words spoken in extremity must be interpreted charitably; to take the words of the desperate man at face value and argue against them as if they were calm theological theses is a form of intellectual cruelty. On v. 28: "But now, be pleased to look at me, for I will not lie to your face" — the directness of this appeal, face to face (in faciem meam), is the appeal of one who has nothing to hide. On v. 29: "Please turn; let no injustice be done; turn now; my vindication is at stake" — Corderius reads "vindication" (justitia mea) as Job's just cause in the divine court, not merely his reputation among men.