Thomas Aquinas

"The days of man are short," etc. Job had been marveling at the divine condescension toward men, since man is nevertheless of so fragile and miserable a condition when the state of the present life is considered; but this wonder ceases if one considers that after this life another life is reserved for man in which he abides forever: and therefore he now strives to show this. He therefore sets down beforehand, as though presupposing what he intends to show, both the brevity of the present life, when he says "the days of man are short"; and that the very measure of human life is determined by God, when he says "the number of his months is with you," just as we say that the number of those things is "with" us whose number is fixed by us; and again the immutability of the divine determination, when he says "you have appointed his bounds which cannot be passed": for the divine disposition is not deceived, whence it is impossible for a man to live either longer or less than the divine disposition allows, although it is contingent, considered in itself, that this man die now or earlier. There are, however, also bounds of human life pre-established from certain bodily causes, for instance from one's constitution or something of this kind, beyond which a man's life cannot be extended, although it can fail earlier from some accidental cause; but the bounds pre-established according to divine providence, under which all things fall, a man's life can pass neither in excess nor in defect. He also sets down beforehand the expectation of another life when he says "withdraw a little from him, that he may rest, until his desired day come, like that of the hireling." Here it must be considered that just as the sun is the cause of day, so God is the author of life; but when the sun withdraws, day ends and night comes: therefore by the withdrawal of God he understands the termination of the present life, which is from God to man. But the present life is filled with many disturbances, for according to this it was said of man that "he is filled with many miseries"; and because rest seems to be the end of labor, he therefore calls death "rest": he says therefore "withdraw a little from him that he may rest," that is, withdraw your power by which you give life to man, that he may die. But man's death is not forever, but he will again be restored to immortal life; therefore the state of human death, however long the resurrection be deferred, is brief in comparison to the state of future immortality, whence he significantly says "a little": for from other things which perish never to return, God withdraws not "a little" but forever, but from men who so perish as to rise again, only for a short time. Now it was said above that the life of man upon earth is like the days of a hireling desiring the time of his wage; but the time of man's repayment is not in this life, as Job's friends supposed, but in that life to which man is restored by rising again: he says therefore "that he may rest," that is, that he may die, yet not forever but until his desired day come, just as the hireling's day is desired in which he receives his wage — where Job first disclosed his intention: for he does not thereby deny that present adversities are punishments as though God did not reward or punish the deeds of men, but because the time of repayment properly belongs to another life.

"A tree has hope, if it be cut down." Having set down his position, Job here proceeds to its manifestation, and first shows that man, according to what appears in this life, is of a worse condition than even certain lowest creatures which after their perishing are restored, as appears especially in trees. Now the life of a tree fails in two ways, just as also the life of man, namely through violence and through nature: as to the violent failure of a tree, then, he says "if a tree be cut down it has hope," that is, a natural aptitude to be restored again, because it again grows green in itself if it be planted; "and its branches sprout," in which it is shown to recover perfect life just as before. As to the natural failure of the tree, he adds, "if its root has grown old in the earth," since it cannot draw nourishment because of a lack of natural power, and so consequently "its trunk has died in the dust," that is, it has been reduced by rot into dust in some part, "at the scent of water it will bud," that is, when rain comes, from the rot of the wood having a seminal power, "and it will put forth foliage," namely of leaves, "as when it was first planted." But this is not found in man according to the course of the present life, whence he adds, "but man, when he is dead and stripped and consumed, where, I ask, is he?" And he sets down three things which man loses by degrees: for first the soul is separated from the body, and to this pertains what he says, "when he is dead"; second, the coverings and adornments of the body, which sometimes remain to a man after death but afterward he is stripped of these too, and to this pertains what he says, "and stripped"; and last, even the very frame of the body is dissolved, and to this pertains what he says, "and consumed." When these things have been accomplished, nothing perceptibly appears remaining of the man, whence among those who believe there is nothing except sensible and bodily things, he seems to be reduced totally to nothing: expressing therefore the doubt of these men, he says, "where, I ask, is he?" It must be considered, however, that those things which do not totally perish seem able to be restored, as was said of the tree cut down or grown old, but of those things of which nothing remains it seems impossible for them to be restored again, as if all the water of the sea or of a river were totally dried up; but man, as has already been said, seems by death to be so consumed that nothing of him remains, whence according to this reasoning it appears that it is impossible for him to be restored again to life, and this is what he adds, "as if the waters should recede from the sea, and a river, emptied, should dry up, so man, when he has fallen asleep," that is, when he is dead, "shall not rise" from death. It seems to be of the same impossibility that incorruptible things be corrupted and that things totally corrupted be restored again; but heaven is incorruptible, and therefore he adds, "until the heavens be worn away, he shall not awake," as though reviving, "nor arise from his sleep," to carry out the works of life, as if to say: just as it is impossible for the heavens to be worn away, that is, corrupted, so it is impossible for a dead man to rise again; and this indeed is said, as has been said, on the supposition that nothing of man remains after death, according to what was said, "where, I ask, is he?" Or this can be referred to the opinion of those who held that this whole bodily universe was to be corrupted and again restored, in which restoration indeed they held that the same men would return, so that the sense would be: while this world lasts, man shall not rise from death; but the Catholic faith does not hold that the substance of the world will perish, but the present state of this world, according to that saying of 1 Corinthians 7:31, "the fashion of this world passes away"; this change of the world according to fashion, then, can here be understood by the wearing away of the heaven: for the resurrection of the dead is commonly expected at the end of the world, according to that saying of John 11:24, "I know that he shall rise again in the resurrection, at the last day."

"Who will grant me this, that you protect me in Hell," etc. After Job had shown what could be conjectured about man's resurrection from those things which appear sensibly, he here sets down his own position concerning the resurrection. Now it would be exceedingly horrible and pitiable if man should so fail through death that he could never be restored to life, since each thing naturally desires to be: whence Job shows his desire for a future resurrection, saying, "who will grant me this, that even after death you protect me in Hell," that is, contain me under that special care by which you protect men, "until your wrath pass," that is, the time of death — because, as was said above, man's death comes about through the withdrawal of the divine operation which preserves life, whence he had said "withdraw a little from him" — for God seems to be angry with man when he withdraws from him the benefit of life, and especially since we believe that death came about from the sin of the first man. How he wishes to be protected even in Hell he explains, adding, "and appoint me a time in which you will remember me?" For God seems to have forgotten man when he withdraws from him the benefit of life; he remembers him, then, when he brings him back to life: to appoint a time in which God should remember a dead man, then, is nothing other than to appoint the time of resurrection. And quite fittingly he calls this "protection": for when a craftsman, once a work is dismantled, does not intend to build the structure again from the same material — a house, say, or something of this kind — he seems to take no care of the material of the dismantled structure; but when he does intend to build a structure again from it, he diligently guards it lest it perish: this care, then, he calls "protection." After he had expressed his desire concerning rising again, then — since desires are sometimes also of impossible things — he consequently puts under question whether that which he desired will at some time come to pass, whence he adds, "do you think a dead man will live again?" And as to what he himself feels about this, he shows, saying, "all the days in which I now serve as a soldier I wait until my change comes." Here it must be considered that above he had compared man's life upon earth to military service and to the hireling's days, because both soldiers and hirelings expect something after their present condition, and therefore just as above he expressed the state of resurrection by the day desired by the hireling, so now too he shows the same thing under the likeness of a soldier. And it should be noted that he does not expect the desired end at some point within this life, since he assigns all the days of this life to the state of military service, saying "all the days in which I now serve as a soldier"; likewise it should be noted that he does not expect another life similar to this one, since then that too would be military service, but he expects a life in which he will not serve as a soldier but will triumph and reign, and therefore he says, "I wait until my change comes," as if to say: in this whole life I serve as a soldier, subject to change, labors, and hardships, but I wait to be changed into the state of another life which is without labor and hardship; and about this change the Apostle says, 1 Corinthians 15:51, "we shall indeed all rise again, but we shall not all be changed." And lest anyone should believe that man would be changed into the state of another life by his own natural power, he excludes this, adding, "you shall call me, and I will answer you," as if to say: the future change will proceed from the power of your voice, or from your command, according to that saying of John 5:28, "all who are in the tombs shall hear the voice of the Son of God, and they who hear shall live"; for to call pertains to command, but to answer pertains to the obedience by which the creature obeys the creator. But because the dead, at God's command, will not only rise again to life but will be changed into a certain higher state, and this by divine power, he therefore adds, "to the work of your hands you will stretch out your right hand," as if to say: man rising again will not be the work of nature but the work of your power, to which work indeed you will stretch out your helping right hand while, through the help of your grace, he is exalted into the glory of newness. Or, what he says, "you shall call me, and I will answer you," can be referred to the restoration of the body, while what he adds, "to the work of your hands you will stretch out your right hand," can be referred to the soul, which naturally desires to be united to its body, to which God will stretch out his helping right hand while it attains by divine power what it cannot attain by its own power. Having then set down his position concerning the future resurrection of the dead, he returns to that at which he had marveled above, namely that God so carefully considers the works of men, when he had said "you have observed all my paths and considered the steps of my feet," whence he adds, "you indeed have numbered my steps," as if to say: it is now no wonder if you so diligently examine the deeds of men, seeing that you reserve him for another life. Now it must be considered that concerning human acts divine providence is attended to in two respects: first, according to this, that it examines and discusses them, which indeed is signified in what he says, "you indeed have numbered my steps": for we number those things about which we take diligent care; and lest it should seem to anyone to be of great severity that God should examine the deeds of fragile man with such diligence, he consequently hints at God's inclination to spare, when he says, "but spare my sins," as if to say: although you number them, yet I retain this hope, that you will spare. Second, according to this, that he keeps the good or evil deeds of men in his memory, to repay for them good or evil, whence he adds, "you have sealed my offenses as it were in a bag": for those things which are sealed in a bag are diligently kept; and lest this sealing should exclude divine mercy, he adds, "but you have healed my iniquity," as if to say: thus you reserve punishment for sins in such a way that nevertheless through penance you heal the offenses.

"A falling mountain comes to nought, and a rock is removed out of its place." After Job had set down his position concerning the future resurrection, he here fortifies it with probable arguments, and the first argument is taken from the comparison of man to lower creatures, which are totally consumed without hope of restoration. For all things which are generated are subject to corruption, whence even mountains, although they seem most firm, are nevertheless, from certain causes, dissolved after some courses of time, and this is what he says, "a falling mountain comes to nought"; rocks too, although they seem strongest, are nevertheless cut away either by violence or from some natural cause, and this is what follows, "and a rock is removed out of its place"; stones too, although they seem hardest, are nevertheless hollowed out by waters, and this is what is added, "waters hollow out stones"; the earth too, although it seems most stable, is nevertheless little by little changed from its arrangement, and this is what is added, "and by inundation the earth is little by little consumed." But it would be unfitting if the reason for the corruption of man and of the aforesaid things were the same, and therefore he concludes, as though it were unfitting, "you will destroy men, then, in like manner?" As if to say: it is not fitting that men should be corrupted in like manner as other bodily creatures; for the aforesaid creatures are totally corrupted, whence they are not restored the same in number; but man, although he is corrupted as to the body, nevertheless remains incorruptible as to the soul, which transcends the whole genus of bodily things, so that thus there remains hope of restoration. Then he brings forward toward the same conclusion arguments taken from the properties of man. Now man excels all lower creatures in two things, of which one is operative power: for he is master of his own act through free choice, which belongs to no other bodily creature, and according to this man is more powerful than any bodily creature, whence he also uses other things for his own sake; the other thing in which he excels is intellective knowledge, which, although it is in the mind, some indication of it nevertheless appears in the body, and especially in the face, which man has quite different from other animals; and from these two it appears that man is not corrupted in such a way as the others are, so as never to be forever. As to the first of these, then, he says, "have you strengthened him a little, that he should pass away forever?" As if to say: it is not fitting that you should have granted man so much strength for so short a time, such that afterward he would not be forever; for it would seem foolish if someone were to make a very strong instrument in order to use it for a short hour, and afterward throw it away entirely; but the power of any bodily creature whatsoever is determined to finite effects, whereas the power of free choice extends itself to infinite actions: whence this very fact attests to the power of the soul to the end that it endure forever. As to the second, namely as to the intellect, he says, "will you change his face and send him forth?" As if to say: it is not fitting that you should have changed his face, that is, differentiated it from other animals, and yet send him forth from the state of life never to return, like the other animals. Now by "face" intellective knowledge is customarily understood, because this is proper to the rational creature; but intellectual knowledge cannot belong except to an incorruptible substance, as is proved by the philosophers. But someone might say that, although man does not return to life after death, nevertheless he does not pass away forever, inasmuch as he lives in a certain way in his sons: which indeed the words of Baldad also suggest, when he said above, "this is the joy of his way, that others spring up again out of the earth." But Job excludes this response, adding, "whether his sons be noble or ignoble, he will not understand," as if to say: man grasps the eternal good through the intellect, whence he also naturally desires it; but the good which is in the succession of sons cannot satisfy the intellectual appetite, if man is totally consumed by death so as never to be forever, because the intellectual appetite is not at rest except in a good that is understood; but the good which is in the succession of sons a man does not understand, neither while he lives nor after death if through death he should altogether cease to be. The intellective appetite of man, then, does not tend toward the eternity of this good but toward the good or evil which he has in himself, whence he adds, "yet his flesh, while it lives, will grieve, and his soul will mourn over itself," where he distinguishes a twofold sorrow: one indeed of the flesh, in the apprehension of sense, the other of the soul, from the apprehension of the intellect or the imagination, which is properly called sadness, and here is named mourning.