You dress up speeches only to rebuke, and you utter words to the wind.

“Ye only set in order speeches to upbraid, and ye speak words against the wind. There are two sorts of speech, which are very troublesome and mischievous to mankind, the one which aims to commend even froward things, the other which studies to be always carping even at right ones. The one is carried downward with the stream, the other sets itself to close the very channels and streams of truth. Fear keeps down the one, pride sets up the other. The one aims to catch favour by applause; anger, in order that it may be manifested in contention, drives forward the other. The one lies grovelling at command; the other is always swelling high in opposition. Accordingly, blessed Job convicts his friends of being of this kind, when he says, Ye do but set in order speeches to upbraid. But he proceeded to make known whence it is that men come even to the effrontery of unjust upbraiding, when he added, And ye speak words to the wind. For to 'speak, words to the wind' is to talk idly. For often when the tongue is not withheld from idle words, a loose is even given to the rashness of foolish reviling. For it is by certain steps of its descent, that the slothful soul is driven into the pitfall. Thus while we neglect to guard against idle words, we are brought to mischievous ones, so that it first gives satisfaction to speak of the concerns of others, and afterwards the tongue by detraction carps at the life of those of whom it speaks, and sometimes even breaks out into open revilings. Hence the incitements are sown of angry passions, jars arise, the fire-brands of animosity are kindled, peace is altogether extinguished in men's hearts. Hence it is well said by Solomon, He that letteth out water is a beginning of brawls. For to let out water is to let the tongue loose in a flood of words, contrary to which he at the same time declares in a favourable sense, saying, The words of a man's mouth are as deep waters. He then that letteth out water is a beginning of brawls, for he who neglects to refrain his tongue, dissipates concord. Hence it is written contrariwise, He that silenceth a fool, softeneth wrath. But that everyone that is given to much talking cannot maintain the straight path of righteousness, the Prophet testifies, in that he saith, For an evil speaker shall not be led right upon the earth. Hence again Solomon saith, In the multitude of words there wanteth not sin. Hence Isaiah saith, And the cultivation of righteousness, silence; so pointing out that the righteousness of the interior is desolated, when we do not withhold from immoderate talking. Hence James saith, If any man among you think himself to be religious, and bridleth not his tongue, but deceiveth his own heart, this man's religion is vain. Hence he says again, Let every man be swift to hear, slow to speak. Hence he adds again, The tongue is an unruly evil, full of deadly poison. Hence 'Truth' warns us by his own lips, saying, Every idle word that men shall speak, they shall give account thereof in the day of judgment. For an idle word is such as lacks either cause of just occasion, or purpose of kind serviceableness. If then an account is demanded for idle speech, it is very deeply to be considered what punishment followeth after that much talking, wherein we sin even by words of pride. Furthermore, be it known that they are lost to the whole estate of righteousness altogether, who let themselves go in mischievous words. For the mind of man, like water, both when closed round is collected on high, in that it seeks anew the source whence it descended, and when let loose it comes to nought, in that it dissipates itself to no purpose down below. For the mind is as it were drawn out of itself in so many streams, as it lets itself out in superfluous words from the strict control of silence. And hence it has no power to turn back within to the knowledge of itself, in that being dissipated without in much talking, it loses the strength of interior reflection. Therefore it lays itself bare in every part to the inflictions of the plotting enemy, in that it does not hedge itself about with any defence for its safe-keeping. Whence it is written, He that hath no rule over his own spirit in his talk is like a city that is broken down and without walls. For because it is without the wall of silence, the city of the mind lies open to the darts of the enemy, and when it casts itself forth of itself in words, it exhibits itself exposed to the adversary, and he gets the mastery of it without trouble, in proportion as the soul that he has to overcome combats against its own self by much talking. But herein be it known, that when we are withheld from speaking by excess of fear, we are sometimes confined within the strait bounds of silence beyond what need be. And whilst we avoid the mischiefs of the tongue without caution, we are secretly involved in worse. For oftentimes while we are overmuch restrained in speech, we are subject to a mischievous degree of much talking in the heart, that the thoughts should be hot within, the more that the violent keeping of indiscreet silence confines them, and most often they let themselves take a wider range in proportion as they reckon themselves to be more secure, in that they are not seen by censors without. Whence the mind is sometimes lifted up in pride, and, as it were, regards as weak those persons whom it hears engaged in talk. And when it keeps the mouth of the body shut, it never knows to what degree it is laying itself open to evil by entertaining pride. For it keeps the tongue down, but it sets the heart up. And whereas it never takes heed to itself from inattention, it censures all the world more freely to itself, in proportion as it does it at the same time the more secretly. And most frequently oversilent people, when they meet with any wrongs, are driven into bitterer grief, the more they do not give utterance to all that they are undergoing. For if the tongue declared with calmness the annoyance inflicted, grief would flow away from our consciousness. For closed wounds give more acute pain, in that when the corruption that ferments within is discharged, the pain is laid open favourably for our recovery. And generally whilst over-silent men fix their eyes on the faults of any, and yet hold in the tongue in silence, they are, as it were, withdrawing the use of the salve, after the wounds have been seen. For they the more effectually become the cause of death, that they refused by speaking to cast out the poison which they might. And hence if immoderate silence were not a thing to blame, the Prophet would newer say, Woe is me, for I have held my peace. What then have we here to do, saving that the tongue must be heedfully kept in under the poise of a mighty control, but not that it must be indissolubly chained, lest either being let loose it run out into mischief, or being bound up, it be also slack to render service. For hence it is said by one, A wise man will hold his tongue till he sees opportunity, that when he accounts it convenient, strictness of silence being laid aside, by speaking such things as are meet, he may devote himself to answer the end of usefulness. Hence Solomon saith, A time to keep silence, and a time to speak. For the seasons for changes are to be weighed with discretion, lest either when the tongue ought to be restrained, it let itself out to no purpose in words, or when it might speak to good purpose, it keep itself in from sloth. Which the Psalmist considering comprehended in a brief petition, saying, Set a watch, O Lord, before my mouth; and a door of guard on my lips. For a door is opened and shut. He then who prayed not that a bar should be set to his lips, but a door, openly shewed that the tongue ought both to be held in by self-control, and let loose on grounds of necessity, that both the voice should open the discreet mouth at the fitting time, and on the other hand silence close it at the fitting time. And because neither the friends of Job, nor all heretics, whose likeness they bear, know how to observe this, they are said to 'utter words to the wind.' In that the sayings which the weightiness of discretion does not establish firmly, the breath of levity carries along.”

“Job answering said. As is clear from what precedes, Eliphaz had noted three things in Job's lament: despair, because he seemed to desire not to be; impatience, or immoderate sorrow, on account of the sighs and groans which he said he was suffering; and presumption, because he had asserted himself to be innocent. And the whole of Eliphaz's preceding speech turned upon these three things, in which — to show that Job had been subject to sin and had therefore endured adversities — he proposed, among other things, the frailty of the human condition, from which no one can presume himself immune from sin: from this, then, Job takes the beginning of his response. For it is certain that, from the frailty of the human condition, no man is immune from sin, however just he may appear; yet in just men there are not grave and mortal sins, but there are in them light and venial sins, which arise from negligence and subreption. But if what Eliphaz was striving to assert were true — namely, that the adversities of the present life are the proper punishments of sins — it would follow that men would suffer grave adversities on account of grave sins, and light ones on account of light sins, and thus just men would never be subject to grave adversities, which is clearly false. This argument, therefore, Job proposes against Eliphaz's disputation; hence it is said, Job answering said: "Oh that my sins, by which I have deserved wrath, and the calamity that I suffer, were weighed in a balance." As if to say: I cannot say that there are no sins in me, yet I trust that they are not mortal but venial in me; if, therefore, for sins of this sort I have deserved from God wrath, that is, punishment, the calamity and the sin ought to have been weighed in the balance of justice, so that, according to equality, the one might correspond to the other. But the adversity appears much greater, and this is what he adds: "as the sand of the sea," that is, incomparably — this, namely the calamity, would appear graver, if Eliphaz's opinion were true, that adversities in this world are inflicted only according to sins, since it appears that many wicked men, in comparison with whose sins Job's sins were as nothing, endure only certain light adversities. From this he further proceeds to excuse himself from the sorrow which he had expressed in words, saying, "wherefore also my words are full of sorrow," which he infers by way of conclusion, because his sorrow was caused by the magnitude of the adversity. He then adds a twofold cause of his sorrow: for sorrow is caused sometimes by things which one has already suffered, and sometimes by things which one fears to suffer. First, then, he assigns the cause of his sorrow from the things he had already suffered, saying, "for the arrows of the Lord are in me," in which he shows that he was afflicted unexpectedly, for an arrow comes from afar and unexpectedly; and to show the magnitude of the blow he adds, "the indignation whereof hath drunk up my spirit," that is, it did not permit me to breathe, but took away entirely whatever strength or consolation could have been in me. Then he shows the cause of his sorrow from the things he feared to suffer, saying, "and the terrors of God war against me": for those afflicted are wont to be consoled by hope of a better state, but when after affliction someone fears again similar or greater things, no consolation seems to remain. But someone might say: you indeed have a cause of sorrow, but you ought not, on account of it, to break forth into words of sorrow. Against this Job responds from what is found in other animals. For man is similar to other animals in his sensitive nature, wherefore those things which follow upon sensitive nature are naturally present in man just as in other animals; but what is natural cannot be wholly avoided. Now it is found in other animals that they express the affliction of the heart by voice, and this he signifies, saying: "Will the wild ass bray when he hath grass? Or will the ox low when he standeth before a full manger?" As if to say, no; but the wild ass brays and the ox lows when they lack necessary food, in which it appears to be natural to animals that they express interior affliction by voice. Again, someone might say that it is natural for sorrow once conceived to be expressed by voice, but that it does not pertain to the wise man to conceive sorrow in his heart from just any causes, as the Stoics held. But Job shows this to be against sensitive nature: for sense cannot but flee from what is harmful or unfitting, and therefore he says, "Or can that which is unsavoury be eaten, that is not seasoned with salt?" As if to say, no, since indeed things of this insipid sort are not suited to the delight of taste; and likewise the heart of man cannot willingly accept things that are not delightful, and much less those that are bitter and harmful, wherefore he adds, "Or can a man taste that which, when tasted, brings death?" As if to say, no; and just as this is impossible in the exterior sense, so it is impossible that those things which are apprehended through the interior senses as harmful should be received without sorrow. But because, although the wise man suffers sorrow, his reason nevertheless is not absorbed by sorrow, Job consequently shows that although he suffered sorrow, yet there was in him the greatest solicitude and fear that he might guard himself against sorrow, lest through sorrow he be led into something vicious; and to avoid this he preferred death, and to express this he says, "the things my soul before would not touch, now, through anguish, are my meats," as if to say: the things which my soul formerly abhorred, it now delightfully desires. And what these things are he shows, saying, "Who will grant that my request may come?" And that it may be shown that he proposes this request not merely with the lips but also from the depths of his heart, he adds, "and that God may give me what I look for?" And what this request is he shows, adding, "and that he that hath begun," namely to afflict me, "may destroy me," namely by death; and this is what he adds, "that he may let loose his hand and cut me off?" By the hand of God he means the divine power by which God himself had afflicted him — which hand seems, in a certain way, to be bound by the divine will and mercy while it ceases to afflict, but is, in a certain way, loosed while the divine blow is brought to the end of slaying. And because he had said that the things he formerly would not touch are now his food, he shows how this is to be understood, namely that death, which had been horrible to him, has now become sweet; hence he adds, "and this be my comfort, that afflicting me with sorrow," namely God, "he spare not," that is, that he not withdraw his hand but bring me to death. And why he desires this he shows by what he adds, "and I will not contradict the words of the Holy One," that is, of God — that is, his judgments or sentences by which he has afflicted me. For Job feared lest, through many afflictions, he be led into impatience, such that reason could not repress sorrow; now the nature of impatience is when someone's reason is so led away by sorrow that it contradicts the divine judgments; but if someone indeed suffers sorrow according to the sensual part, while reason conforms itself to the divine will, this is not the defect of impatience; and thus Eliphaz argued against Job in vain when he had said, "now the scourge is come upon thee, and thou hast fainted": for although he sorrowed, yet he had not fainted. Then he assigns the reason, from his own frailty, why he feared lest he be brought to the point of contradicting the words of the Holy One. For a fear of this kind could be removed for a twofold reason: first, if he had such strength of reason that it could in no way be overcome, as is the case with those whose free will has been confirmed by grace; but he did not feel this strength in himself, wherefore he says, "for what is my strength, that I can hold out?" namely, whatever tribulations may come; secondly, if it were necessary to bear the tribulations and sorrows only for some brief time; and therefore, to remove this too, he adds, "or what is my end, that I should act patiently?" As if to say: what limit has been set to my tribulations, such that, waiting until it, I might presume that I would preserve patience? And in explanation of these he adds, saying, "neither is my strength the strength of stones": for the strength of stones is without sense; but the strength of man exists together with a sense of the things that are harmful, on account of which he adds, "nor is my flesh of brass," that is, without sense, because however strong the reason of mortal man may be, yet it is necessary that, on the part of the flesh, he experience the sense of sorrow. And by this the reproach of Eliphaz, who charged blessed Job with sorrow, is excluded: for although strength of mind was present in blessed Job, yet on the part of the flesh there was present a sense of sorrow, which sorrow followed. At the same time, by this the opinion of the Stoics, who said that the wise man does not sorrow, is also refuted — an opinion which Eliphaz seems to have held; but blessed Job intends to defend this: that the wise man indeed sorrows, but strives through reason not to be led into what is unfitting, which the Peripatetics also held. "Behold, there is no help for me in myself," etc. Job had shown in what precedes that he had reasonably felt sorrow and uttered words of sorrow, yet that he was not absorbed by sorrow on account of what he had suffered; but because sometimes a man, although he suffers certain adversities, so guards himself against adversities by his own and another's help and comfort that he conceives from them little or no sorrow, blessed Job wishes to show that he was destitute of remedies of this kind, so that from this it may appear more evidently that he had reasonably uttered words of sorrow. And first indeed he shows that he was destitute of the aforesaid remedies on his own part, when he says, "behold, there is no help for me in myself": for even if some of his goods had been plundered, he could bear this without sorrow if he could help himself to recover the lost goods and to avenge the injury inflicted; but he could not do this, being destitute of all his riches, his children, and the health of his own body. Again, there are many things we cannot do by ourselves which we can do through friends; and therefore Job secondly shows that he was also destitute of the help of friends, when he says, "and my kinsfolk also," that is, his household and domestics, "have departed from me." And that this was not without their fault, he shows, adding, "he that taketh away mercy from his friend," namely in the time of misery, "forsaketh the fear of the Lord," that is, the reverence which he ought to have toward God, on account of whom, and in whom, one's neighbor is to be loved: "he who does not love his brother whom he sees, how can he love God whom he does not see?" as is said in John 4:20. Then he shows that he was also forsaken by his kinsmen, saying, "my brethren," that is, his relatives, "have passed me by": he speaks after the likeness of those walking together on a road, as when one falls into a pit and the others nonetheless go on ahead, leaving him behind. And indeed they would be in some way excusable if, after having brought help for some time, they had abandoned him either out of weariness or out of despair of helping; and therefore, that they may be inexcusable, he shows that he was immediately and suddenly deserted by them, which he signifies when he adds, "as a torrent that passeth swiftly in the valleys," which moves very quickly. And lest they believe they have done this with impunity, he adds, "they who fear the frost, snow shall fall upon them," as if to say: he who, out of fear of a lesser danger, departs from justice and mercy will be led into greater dangers; wherefore also Job's brethren, who passed him by unwilling to have compassion, will themselves bear sorrow in their own losses. And that their dangers will be in the future without remedy he shows, adding, "at the time wherein they shall be scattered," that is, when they shall incur certain dangers, "they shall perish," namely entirely, "and after it groweth hot, they shall be melted out of their place." He speaks under the metaphor of the snow, of which he had made mention, which, when it has been much hardened by freezing, is not immediately dissolved at the first warmth, but when it is not yet frozen, it is immediately dissolved and flows at the ray of the sun: this, then, is what he says, "after it groweth hot, they shall be melted out of their place," that is, at the very first onset of adversity, as of a certain heat, all their prosperity will be dissolved. And he shows the cause, adding, "the paths of their steps are entangled": for that which is entangled turns back upon itself by a certain twistedness; the paths, therefore, are entangled of those who, in their kinsmen and friends, seek nothing but their own advantage, and on this account, in the time of prosperity, feign friendship, but in the time of adversity forsake it. But men who fraudulently seek their own advantage for the most part fall short of their hope, and therefore he adds, "they shall walk in vain": for some are said to walk in vain when they fall short of the goal of their walking; and not only will their hope be emptied, but also the contrary will happen to them, wherefore it follows, "and shall perish," that is, they shall be utterly destroyed. Thus, then, he had help neither in himself, nor in his household, nor in his kinsmen. He then shows that neither did he have it in other friends, wherefore he says, "consider the paths of Theman, the ways of Saba," in which regions he seemed especially to have had friends — for Eliphaz too had come from Theman — "and wait a little while," namely, considering whether any came by these roads to bring me help; and this you will not see, "because they are confounded," namely to come to me, "because I hoped," that is, because it was a time in which I ought to have hoped for help from them: for men who are unwilling to give help are ashamed to visit those from whom they reckon that help could reasonably be sought of them; "they came also," namely, some of them, "even to me, and were covered with shame," namely because they did not give me help, though they recognized that they owed it. Nor is it surprising in the case of others, since even you, who seem wiser, fail in this too, wherefore he adds, "now you are come, and now, seeing my affliction, you are afraid," namely lest perhaps it should be necessary for you to bring me help; but do not be afraid, for I have not sought your help in anything: for neither do I require of you that you should assist me with money, and this is what he says, "did I say: bring to me, and give me of your substance?" Nor have I sought from you help in war against enemies, and this is what he adds, "deliver me from the hand of the enemy, and rescue me out of the hand of the mighty?" Nor have I sought from you the help of teaching, and this is what he says: "did I say: teach me," namely, in speculative matters, "and I will hold my tongue: and if I have been ignorant of anything perhaps, instruct me?" namely, in matters of action. Nor do you only fail to offer me help, but also, as much as is in you, you further afflict me with words, and this is what he adds, "why have you detracted from the words of truth?" namely, those which I first uttered in my lamentation, which Eliphaz seemed to reprove, as has been said. And that this detraction may be shown to be inexcusable, he excludes all those things by which some reprover might be excused from detraction. The first of these is when someone of greater authority reproves another for a fault, and this he excludes, saying, "whereas there is none of you that can reprove me." The second is when someone utters hard words against another for that person's benefit and not to exasperate him, and this is what he adds, "to rebuke only, and not for advantage, do you compose your words," that is, you carefully compose them so that they may not seem to be spoken lightly. The third is when someone fortifies the words he utters against another with effective arguments, and this he removes, saying, "and you utter words into the wind," as if to say: your words are empty, having no strength of reason. The fourth is when someone reproves another at the time and in the state in which it can be presumed that he will not thereby become worse but better; but if someone wishes to reprove another at a time when he is dismayed in spirit and disposed to anger, he seems to wish not correction but subversion, and therefore he says, "you rush upon the fatherless, and you endeavor to overthrow your friend": he calls himself "the fatherless" because, set in sorrow, he was destitute of all help. And lest anyone should think that he said this fearing contention with them, as though he did not presume upon the truth of his own opinion and the justice of his own cause, he adds, "howbeit, finish what you have begun," so that from mutual disputation the truth may shine forth; wherefore he adds, "give ear," that is, listen, "and see," that is, consider, "whether I lie": for this is the first impediment to finding the truth through disputation, when someone is unwilling to hear what is said by his opponent. The second impediment is when someone responds to what he hears with clamor and insult, and to remove this he says, "answer, I beseech you, without contention": for contention, as Ambrose says, is "an assault upon truth relying on the confidence of clamor." The third impediment is when someone in disputation aims not at truth but at victory and glory, as happens in litigious and sophistical disputations: "and speaking, judge ye that which is just," that is, that you grant what seems true to you, and deny what seems false. And, if you do this, "you shall not find iniquity on my tongue," namely, anything against the justice which is owed to one's neighbor, "neither shall folly sound in my jaws," that is, anything against the wisdom by which one rightly thinks concerning God: for he intended, both concerning divine things and concerning human things, to defend and prove the truth.”

“Yea, ye overwhelm the fatherless,.... Meaning himself; who was like a fatherless child, stripped of all his mercies, of his children, his substance, and his health; and was in a most miserable, helpless, and forlorn condition; and, moreover, deprived of the gracious presence and visible protection of his heavenly Father, being given up for a while into the hands of Satan; and now it was unkind and barbarous to overwhelm such a man, who was overwhelmed with overmuch sorrow already: or, "ye cause to fall upon the fatherless"; either their wrath and anger, as the Targum and many others (d) instead of doing him justice; or a wall, or any such thing, to crush him, as Aben Ezra; or a lot, as Simeon bar Tzemach; see Joe 3:3; or rather a net, or a snare to entrap him in, seeking to entangle him in talk, so Mr. Broughton, which agrees with what follows: and ye dig a pit for your friend; contrive mischief against him; sought to bring him to ruin; and which is aggravated by his having been their old friend, with whom they lived in strict friendship, and had professed much unto, and still pretended to have respect for; the allusion is to digging of pits for the catching of wild beasts: some render it, "ye feast upon your friend" (e); so the word is used in Kg2 6:23; this sense is taken notice of by Aben Ezra and Bar Tzemach; and then the meaning is, you rejoice at the misery of your friend; you mock him and that, and insult him in his distress, with which the Septuagint version agrees; which was cruel usage. (d) "iram", Vatablus, Mercerus, Cocceius; so Jarchi and Sephorno. (e) "epulamini", Piscator; so Beza, Gussetius.”

“V. is free. P. " But what doth your arguing reprove?" Job remonstrates with his visitants on their pntimely rebukes. " How rashly do yon reprove what yon hear me utter, whilst yon know not the causes of my suffering, and yonnelves utter things which are reprehensible ?" St Gregory. u P. "Do ye imagine to reprove words, and the speeches of one that Is desperate, which are as wind?" He blames them for seeking matter of reproach in his speeches, which, as those of a man almost rendered desperate by intense suffering, should be regarded as thrown to the wind. St Jerome explains it of the visitants, who directed all their discourse to rebuke him, and uttered words to the wind, thoughtlessly.”

“Do you imagine--or, "mean." to reprove words and (to reprove) the speeches of one desperate, (which are) as wind?--mere nothings, not to be so narrowly taken to task? UMBREIT not so well takes the Hebrew for "as wind," as "sentiments"; making formal "sentiments" antithetical to mere "speeches," and supplying, not the word "reprove," but "would you regard," from the first clause.”