Nor shall he return my more into his house, neither shall his place know him any more.

“He shall return no more to his own house, neither shall his place know him any more. For 'the place' of man, but not a local place, the Creator Himself became, Who created him to have his being in Himself, which same place man did then forsake, when on hearing the words of the deceiver, he forsook the love of the Creator. But when Almighty God in the work of redemption shewed Himself even by a bodily appearing, He Himself, so to say, following the footsteps of His runagate, came as a place where to keep man whom He had lost. For if the Creator could not in any sense be styled 'a place,' the Psalmist, in praising God, would never have said, The children of thy servants shall dwell there. For we never say there, except when we mark out a place in a particular manner. But there are very many, who even after they have received the succour of the Redeemer, are precipitated into the darkness of despair, and they perish the more desperately, in proportion as they despise the very offered remedies of mercy. And so it is rightly said concerning him that is damned, Neither shall his place know him any more. For he is not known by his Creator in His sorer severity at the Judgment, in the same degree that he is not recalled even by His gifts to the grace of restoration. And hence it is particularly to be observed, that he does not say, 'Nor shall he know his own place any more;' but, Neither shall his place know him any more. For whereas that 'knowing' is ascribed not to the person, but to the place, the Creator Himself is manifestly set forth, by the name of 'a place,' Who, when He cometh in strictness for the final account, shall say to all that abide in iniquity, I know you not whence ye are. But the Elect severally, in proportion as they consider that lost sinners are unsparingly cut off, day by day purify themselves with greater diligence from the stains of the iniquity they have done; and when they see others on the brink of ruin grow cold in the love of life, they earnestly inflame themselves to tears of penitence.”

“"Man's life upon earth is a warfare," and so forth. Eliphaz, in the foregoing, wishing to draw blessed Job back from despair, had promised him a certain earthly happiness if he would not reject the Lord's rebuke; hence blessed Job, after he showed the reasonable causes of his sorrow, wishes further to show that the aforesaid consolation of Eliphaz, based on the promise of earthly felicity, is unfitting. And first he shows this from the condition of the present life, but afterward he will show it from his own proper condition. Now concerning the condition of the present life, the opinion of men has been diverse: for some have held that the final happiness is in this life, and the words of Eliphaz seem to follow this opinion. For man's ultimate end is there where he awaits the final recompense for good or evil deeds: hence if in this life man is rewarded by God for good deeds done and punished for evil ones, as Eliphaz strove to maintain, it seems to follow that in this life is man's ultimate end. But Job intends to reject this opinion, and wishes to show that the present life of man does not have the ultimate end in itself, but is related to it as motion to rest and a way to its terminus; and therefore he compares it to those states of men who tend toward some end, namely to the state of soldiers who by warring tend toward victory, and this is what he says: "Man's life upon earth is a warfare," as if to say: the present life which we live upon earth is not like the state of victory but like the state of warfare; he also compares it to the state of hired servants, and this is what he adds: "and his days are like the days of a hireling," namely of a man living upon earth. Now he compares the present life to these two states on account of two things that press upon man in the present life: namely, that he must resist hindrances and harmful things, and on this account it is compared to warfare; and that he must work useful things toward an end, and on this account it is compared to the hireling. From both examples, moreover, it is given to be understood that the present life is subject to divine providence: for soldiers war under a leader, and hirelings await their wage from their master. Also, in these two examples the falsity of the opinion that Eliphaz was defending is sufficiently apparent. For it is manifest that the leader of an army does not spare his vigorous soldiers from dangers or labors, but according as the plan of the campaign requires, he sometimes exposes them to greater labors and greater dangers, yet after the victory has been won he honors the more vigorous the more; so too the head of a household commits greater labors to his better hired servants, but at the time of the wage bestows greater rewards upon them; hence neither does divine providence have this property, that it should exempt the good more from the adversities and labors of the present life, but rather that it should reward them more at the end. Since, therefore, the whole opinion of Eliphaz is undermined by these words, Job intends to confirm them and demonstrates them by an effective argument. For it is manifest that any given thing comes to rest once its ultimate end has been attained; hence it is necessary that when the human will has attained its ultimate end, it should rest in it and be moved no further to the desiring of other things; but we experience the contrary of this in the present life, for man, as though never content with present things, always desires future ones: hence it is manifest that the ultimate end is not in this life, but that this life is ordered to another end, just as warfare is ordered to victory and the hireling's day to the wage. Now it must be known that in the present life present things do not suffice, but desire tends toward future things on account of two causes: namely on account of the afflictions of the present life, and for this reason he introduces the example of the servant desiring shade, saying, "as a servant," afflicted by the heat, "desires the shade," by which he might be cooled; and on account of the lack of the perfect and final good which is not had here, and therefore he sets forth the example of the hireling, saying, "and as a hireling looks for the end of his work" — for man's end is the perfect good — "so I too have had empty months," that is, I have reckoned that the months now past have passed by empty for me, inasmuch as in them I had not attained final perfection; "and nights," appointed for rest against afflictions, "I have counted laborious for myself," that is, I have reckoned them as if they were laborious, insofar as in them I was held back from the attainment of the end. He explains, moreover, how he had empty months and laborious nights, by adding: "if I shall sleep," that is, when it is the time for sleeping at night, I say: "when shall I arise?" longing for the day. "And again," when day has come, "I shall await the evening," thus always tending toward the future through desire. And this indeed is common to every man living upon earth, but men feel it more or less according as they are affected more or less by joys or sorrows: for he who is in joy desires the future less, but he who is in sorrow desires it more; and therefore, that he may show this desire to be vehement in himself, Job adds, "and I shall be filled with sorrows even unto darkness," on account of which sorrows the present time becomes tedious to me and I desire the future the more. "My flesh is clothed with rottenness," and so forth. Blessed Job had shown above that the consolation of Eliphaz, based on the promise of felicity in the earthly life, was unfitting from the general condition of man's life upon earth; now, however, he intends to show that the same consolation is unfitting from his own proper condition. And he sets forth two things which hinder him from awaiting prosperity upon earth, the first of which is the infirmity of body which he was suffering: for to a man held fast by grave infirmity nothing can happen that would make him happy in this life, and therefore he says, "my flesh is clothed with rottenness," as if to say: on every side my body is surrounded with the rottenness of ulcers, just as a body is surrounded by a garment. And since wounds treated from the beginning come to health, he shows that his ulcers had been neglected, hence he says, "and the filth of dust," for they were not treated in due manner, because literally he was sitting upon a dunghill, as was said above. Health, moreover, is sometimes expected even if the ulcers be neglected, when nature is strong; but in Job the vigor of nature had failed, hence he says, "my skin has dried up and shrunk," because, namely, the natural moisture had already been consumed, either on account of old age or of infirmity; hence there does not seem to be room for me to await further happiness in this life. The second is that the greater part of his life's time had already passed, so that little time remained, nor could he expect great happiness in it, and for this reason he says, "my days have passed more swiftly than the web is cut off by the weaver." For man's life, in a certain respect, is like a weaving: just as he who weaves a web joins thread to thread so as to arrive at the completion of the web, and when it is completed cuts it off, so, in order that man's life may be brought to completion, days are added to days, and when it has been completed it is taken away. Yet he says that the days of man pass more swiftly than the web is cut off, because in the work of weaving the weaver sometimes rests, but the time of man's life slips away continuously without rest. But someone could say that although the greater part of the time of his life had passed, he might nevertheless still hope for a return to the state of his past life: for some have held that after death, when many courses of years have elapsed, man was to return to the same sequence of life which he had previously lived, as for instance that Plato would in future times lecture again at Athens and do the same things he had done before; and thus a man, although the greater part of the time of his life had passed, could hope for the restitution of happiness in earthly life; and therefore, to remove this, Job adds, "and they are consumed without any hope," namely of returning to his former days. And to prove this he adds, speaking to God — to whom, from that passage "man's life upon earth is a warfare" onward, he seems to have directed his speech — saying, "remember that my life is wind," that is, like the wind: for just as the wind passes by and does not return again, so man's life, when it has passed, does not return, and this is what he adds, "and my eye shall not return that it may see good things," namely of the earthly life which I once had and have now lost. And just as, when my life has passed, I shall not return to see earthly good things, so neither shall I be seen by an earthly eye, hence it follows, "nor shall the sight of man behold me"; and he sets down these two things to signify that he will not return to human intercourse, which consists chiefly in seeing and being seen: for sight, since it is the subtlest of the senses, holds the primacy in the sensible life. But although he has said that after death he will not be seen by the eye of man, he nevertheless confesses that he will be seen by the divine eye, in that he adds, "your eyes are upon me" — namely, will be: for the dead are visible to God, who beholds spiritual things, because the dead live according to the spirit, not according to the flesh, which the sight of man can behold. From this, however, someone might understand that God's eyes look upon the dead man not according to his present state but as he looks upon future things, as though the dead man were again going to return to the life he had left; and therefore, to exclude this, he adds, "and I shall not subsist," as if to say: I say indeed that your eyes will be upon me after death, yet I shall not afterward again subsist in the state of this earthly life. And he proves this by a comparison when he adds, "as a cloud is consumed and passes away, so he who goes down to the netherworld shall not come up." Now the dead are said to descend to the netherworld either because, before the death of Christ, all descended to hell as to the soul, or because as to the flesh they are placed beneath the earth; for as far as concerns the present matter, it makes no difference however it be explained: for he means nothing other than that the dead do not return to their past life, and he proves this by a certain comparison, a sufficient proof. For as the Philosopher teaches in the second book On Generation, a certain circular motion appears both in corruptible bodies and in incorruptible bodies; but this is the difference, that in the heavenly bodies, according to the circling, the same thing numerically is repeated, just as the numerically same sun which sets returns to its rising, and this because the substance is not corrupted in such a change but only the place is changed; but in the motion of things generable and corruptible, the same thing numerically does not return, but the same in species. For it is clear that, according to the annual circular motion of the sun, a certain circling occurs in the disposition of the air: for in winter there are clouds, and afterward in summer they are consumed, and again, with winter returning, the clouds return, yet not the same numerically but the same in species, because those clouds which existed before perish entirely. And it is likewise with men: for the same men do not return through generations, who existed before, numerically, but only according to species. From this the solution is clear to the argument of those who held a return to the same life and to the same acts: for they believed that lower things are disposed according to the motion of the heavenly bodies, whence, when the same constellation should return after very many spaces of time, they believed that the same thing numerically would return; but it is not necessary that the same things return numerically, as has been said, but only things alike according to species. These men, moreover, held that a dead man, after certain spaces of time, would return not only to life but also to the same possessions and houses which he previously had, and therefore, to exclude this, he adds, "nor shall he return any more to his house." They also held that he would perform the same works which he had performed before, and would hold the same offices and dignities; hence, to exclude this also, he adds, "neither shall his place know him any more," that is, he will not return any further to his place; and here "place" is taken for the state of a person, according to that manner of speaking by which we are accustomed to say: this man holds a great place in this city. It is manifest, moreover, from these things, that Job here does not deny the resurrection which faith asserts, but the return to carnal life which the Jews hold and which certain philosophers also held. Nor does this contradict the narrative of Scripture concerning those who have been raised again to the present life, because what is done miraculously is one thing, and what is done according to the course of nature — as Job is speaking here — is another. It must also be considered that what he said above, "remember that my life is wind," he did not say as though forgetfulness could fall upon God, but he speaks from the hypothesis of the adversaries' position: for if God were to promise good things in this earthly life to a man whose life has already, as it were, passed, he would seem as though forgetful that man's life passes in the manner of wind, without return. "Wherefore I also will not spare my mouth." After Job has shown, by demonstrative arguments, that the consolation of Eliphaz, promising earthly prosperity, was unfitting, he now shows it by leading to absurd consequences, namely that if he were to rest upon that consolation which had been given him by Eliphaz from the hope of earthly prosperity, since that hope is vain, as has been shown, it would follow that he must still remain in sorrow and utter words of grief and despair utterly. And therefore, disputing as it were against the position, he concludes, "wherefore," that is, since it is vain to await earthly prosperity, as has been shown, and you have nothing else from which to console me, "I also," as though destitute of consolation, "will not spare my mouth" from speaking words of lamentation as my mind suggests: and this is what he adds, "I will speak in the tribulation of my spirit," that is, according as the tribulation which I suffer impels my spirit to speak. Nor was there present to him only outward tribulation, but also inward sorrow conceived from it, and therefore he adds, "I will talk with the bitterness of my soul," that is, I will speak empty and, as it were, idle words, according as the bitterness of my soul shall supply them to me. Now among the other things which embittered men are accustomed to talk about, they are especially wont to inquire into the causes of their bitterness, because there is scarcely anyone embittered who does not seem to himself to be afflicted either altogether unjustly or more than is just; and therefore Job, bearing the person of an embittered man, inquires into the cause of his affliction, saying, "Am I the sea, or a whale, that you have surrounded me with a prison?" Here it must be noted that the providence of God operates in one way concerning rational creatures and in another concerning irrational ones: for in rational creatures merit and demerit are found on account of free will, and on this account punishments and rewards are owed to them; but irrational creatures, since they do not have free will, neither merit nor demerit punishments or rewards, but God operates concerning them for their expansion or restriction according as befits the good of the universe. From which provision or plan, indeed, it comes about that God restrains the sea, lest it occupy the whole surface of the earth, so that there may be room for animals and things born of the earth; likewise also he restrains the whale within the ocean sea, lest, if it were led into other seas, it might be harmful to some. And therefore Job inquires whether a cause like that for which the sea or the whale is restrained is the cause of his affliction — namely, that he might be afflicted not on account of any demerit of his own, but on account of some benefit thereby accruing to others. He says, moreover, that he is surrounded by a prison because he was so oppressed by tribulation that from no side did there lie open to him either liberation or consolation; and therefore he next shows that he is deprived of those remedies by which the afflicted are usually consoled, one of which is sleep, for after sleep sorrow is mitigated, and he notes this when he says, "if I say: my bed shall comfort me," namely at the time of sleeping. The other remedy is when wise men console themselves through the deliberation of reason, and he touches this remedy when he says, "I shall be relieved," namely from the oppression of sorrow, "speaking with myself," through the deliberation of reason, "upon my couch": for wise men, when they are alone and removed from the tumults of men and of business, are then more able to speak with themselves by thinking something out according to reason. But these remedies could not help him, because at the time when he ought to have used these remedies there were present to him other hindrances by which he was disturbed, namely terrible dreams and horrible visions, and this is what he adds, "you will terrify me through dreams," which, namely, appear to one sleeping, "and through visions," which, namely, appear to one awake but estranged from the use of the outward senses, "you will shake me with horror." For nocturnal phantasms are usually in keeping with the thoughts of the day, hence, because Job during the day was thinking on things belonging to grief, he was disturbed by similar phantasms at night; the infirmity of the body also contributes to this, that disturbed phantasms appear to those who sleep. Thus therefore, with consolation excluded on every side, no way remains for me of escaping so many anguishes except through death, and therefore I choose death in preference, however abject it be, to a life so wretched, and this is what he says, "wherefore my soul has chosen hanging." And lest this choice be thought to arise from some weak thought, with other strong thoughts resisting it, he adds that there is nothing in him so strong that it does not desire death, and this is what he says, "and my bones death": for in Scripture, whatever strength there is in man is usually designated by the bones. And why he chooses this he shows when he adds, "I have despaired," namely of the hope which you gave me, that I might again enjoy earthly prosperity; and why he has despaired he shows by adding, "I shall by no means live any longer": in which two things can be understood which he had set down above, namely that the greater part of the time of his life had already passed, and that there was no return after death to the same life, so as to live again upon the earth. This absurdity, therefore, followed for Job from the consolation of Eliphaz: namely, that he would despair, would choose death, and would have nothing from which to repress his sorrow. "Spare me, Lord." After Job has shown that the consolation of Eliphaz, based on the promise of earthly happiness, was leading him to despair and the desire of death, he shows what remains for him to hope for from God, namely that the tribulation inflicted on him should cease, and this is what he says, "spare me, Lord," as if to say: I have fallen from the hope of earthly prosperity; let this suffice for you to spare me, that is, to cease from scourging. And since the smallness and wretchedness of man is usually an inducement to sparing, he adds, "for my days are nothing," which seems to refer both to man's smallness and to the brevity of life: both commonly as regards all men, and especially as regards himself, whose days had already, as it were, passed away. He then pursues each of the two in turn, and first, concerning smallness, saying, "what is man," that is, how small a thing and weak as to body, "that you should magnify him" with a certain honor among the rest of creatures, "or that you should set your heart upon him," guarding and protecting him with special care? Here it must be considered that, although all things are subject to divine providence and all things obtain greatness from God according to their state, yet in different ways. For since all the particular goods that are in the universe seem to be ordered to the common good of the universe as a part to the whole and the imperfect to the perfect, in that way certain things are disposed according to divine providence according as they have an order to the universe; but it must be known that, according to the measure in which certain things participate in perpetuity, they pertain essentially to the perfection of the universe, but according as they fall short of perpetuity, they pertain to the perfection of the universe accidentally and not through themselves: and therefore, insofar as certain things are perpetual, they are disposed by God for their own sake, but insofar as they are corruptible, for the sake of another. Those things, therefore, which are perpetual both in species and in individual, are governed by God for their own sake; but those which are corruptible in the individual, perpetual only in species, are disposed by God, as to the species, for their own sake, but as to the individual, only for the sake of the species — as, for example, the good and evil that befalls brute animals, as when this sheep is killed by this wolf, or something else of this kind, is not dispensed by God on account of any merit or demerit of this wolf or this sheep, but for the good of the species, because a proper food has been divinely ordained for each species. And this is what he says, "or that you should set your heart upon him," namely in that you provide for him for the sake of his own good; but God does not set his heart upon individual animals, but upon the good of the species, which can be perpetual. How, moreover, he sets his heart upon him he shows when he adds, "you visit him at daybreak," that is, from the beginning of his birth your providence administers to him the things necessary for life and advancement, both bodily and spiritual; "and suddenly you test him" through adversities, in which it appears how he stands with regard to virtue, because, as is had in Ecclesiasticus 27:6, "the furnace tests the potter's vessels, and the trial of tribulation tests just men." Now God is said to test man, not that he himself may learn what sort of man he is, but that he may make others know him, and that the man himself may know himself. These words of Job, however, are not to be understood as those of one disapproving of the divine solicitude concerning men, but as those of one inquiring and marveling: for that which appears outwardly of man is something small, fragile, and perishable, hence it would seem a marvel that God should have such great solicitude concerning man, unless something lay hidden in him that was capable of perpetuity. Hence, through this inquiry and wonder, the opinion of Eliphaz is excluded, because if there were no other life of man than that which is upon earth, man would not seem worthy of so great a solicitude of God concerning him: therefore the very solicitude which God specially has concerning man demonstrates that there is another life of man after the death of the body. Then he adds another argument that he should be spared, taken from the brevity of life, proposing it under a question when he says, "how long will you not spare me?" as if to say: the time of man's life is short, and the greater part of the time of my life has already passed; what limit, then, is awaited for you to spare me, if you do not spare me now, so that I might at least have some brief space in which to rest? Which he signifies in what he adds, "nor do you let me alone, that I may swallow my spittle?" For men, while they are uttering words, cannot swallow their spittle: it is necessary, therefore, that in speaking some slight pause occur, so that the spittle may either be spit out or swallowed; and to this little hour he compares the remainder of the time of his life, as if to say: if you delay to spare me, there will not remain to me any rest from my labors, even one like that pause by which those speaking swallow their spittle. And this argument, too, proceeds from the supposition of Eliphaz's opinion, because if there is no other life of man than that which is upon earth, there will remain no time for God to spare him, if he does not spare him in this life. Now someone could say that it is unworthy that Job should be spared by God, because his sins deserve that he be afflicted further, according to the opinion of Eliphaz, who thought that he was being scourged on account of sins; and therefore he adds, "I have sinned," as if to say: granted that I have sinned and on this account deserve to be scourged, there yet remains a reason why you ought to spare me. And to this he adds three reasons why he ought to be spared, taken from the weakness of man, the first of which is taken from the powerlessness to make satisfaction. For man can do nothing by his own powers worthy to make recompense for the offense he has committed against God, and this is what he says, "what shall I do to you, O keeper of men?" as if to say: if you have such great solicitude concerning men, as their keeper, so as to require an accounting of each of their acts, my powers do not suffice to do anything on account of which you might remit sins; hence, if this is what is awaited, you would never spare me; and therefore, this notwithstanding, spare me. The second reason is taken from the powerlessness to persevere. For man, after the corruption of human nature, cannot persevere without the grace of God; hence in Sacred Scripture too it is customary to say that God hardens or blinds someone by this, that he does not grant the grace by which he might be softened and might see; according to this manner, then, Job also speaks here, saying, "why have you set me contrary to yourself?" That is, why did you not give me the grace by which I might persevere in this, so as not to be contrary to you through sin? For whoever sins is contrary to God, insofar as he resists the divine commandments, whether those handed down in the written law or those naturally implanted in man's reason. Now it must be known that reason is the strongest among all the powers of the soul, a sign of which is that it commands the others and uses them for its own end; it happens, nevertheless, that reason is sometimes for a little while overwhelmed by concupiscence or anger or the other passions of the lower parts, and thus man sins; yet the lower powers cannot so hold reason bound that it does not always return to its own nature, by which it tends toward spiritual goods as toward its own proper end. Thus, therefore, a certain struggle of man even against himself arises: reason resists that into which it sinned, having been overwhelmed by concupiscence or anger; and because, from past sin, a proneness to similar acts has been added to the lower powers on account of habit, reason cannot freely use the lower powers so as to order them to the higher goods and draw them back from the lower ones: and thus man, while he becomes contrary to God through sin, also becomes burdensome to himself, and this is what he adds, "and have become burdensome to myself?" In which it appears that sin immediately has its own punishment; and thus, after this punishment, it seems easier that man should be spared. The third reason is taken from man's powerlessness to purge sin. For man falls into sin by himself, but it belongs to God alone to remit sin, and therefore Job asks: if my punishment ought not to cease as long as the sin remains, and you alone can take away sin, why do you not take away my sin which I have committed against God or against myself? And why do you not take away my iniquity, if there is any committed against my neighbor? It must be considered, however, that Job asks questions of this kind not as a rash inquirer into the divine judgments, but in order to destroy the falsity which the adversaries were striving to assert, namely that only in this life were good or evil things to be awaited from God for human deeds: for once this is posited, the whole rationale of the divine judgments is thrown into confusion, by which he punishes men in this life for sins or remits sins according as he preordains them to the future life, either by predestining or by reprobating. But if there were no future life but only the present one, there would be no reason why God should delay to spare those whom he intends to spare, or to justify and reward them; and therefore Job, in order to open up his own intention, adds, "behold, now I shall sleep in the dust," as if to say that the end of my life is already at hand, since I shall die, to be dissolved into dust; and on account of the uncertainty of death, not even the morrow can be firmly awaited, and therefore he adds, "and if you seek me in the morning, I shall not be," as if to say: I cannot promise myself life until morning, still less long spaces of life in which I might wait for you to spare me, if there is to be no other life. It must be considered, moreover, that Job proceeds after the manner of a disputant, for whom it suffices at first to refute the false opinion, and afterward he reveals what he himself thinks concerning the truth. It must also be noted that Job, in the words set forth above, touched upon three reasons why someone is scourged by God in this life: the first is that his malice may be restrained, lest he be able to harm others, and he touched this reason when he said, "am I the sea, or a whale, that you have surrounded me with a prison?" The second is for man's testing, that his virtue may be made manifest, and he touched this when he said, "you visit him at daybreak, and suddenly you test him"; the third is as a punishment for sins, and he touched this when he said, "I have sinned, what shall I do to you, O keeper of men," and so forth.”

“He shall return no more to his house,.... In a literal sense, built or hired by him, or however in which he dwelt; and if a good man, he will have no desire to return to that any more, having a better house, an house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens; or in a figurative sense, either his body, the earthly house of his tabernacle, an house of clay, which has its foundation in the dust; to this he shall not return until the resurrection, when it will be rebuilt, and fitted up for the better reception and accommodation of him; or else his family, to whom he shall not come back again, to have any concern with them in domestic affairs, or in part of the business of life, as David said of his child when dead, "I shall go to him, but he shall not return to me", Sa2 12:23, neither shall his place know him any more; the place of his office, or rather of his habitation; his dwelling house, his farms and his fields, his estates and possessions, shall no more know, own, and acknowledge him as their master, proprietor, and possessor, these, coming at his death into other hands, who now are regarded as such; or the inhabitants of the place, country, city, town, village, and house in which he lived, shall know him no more; no more being seen among them, he will soon be forgotten; out of sight, out of mind (b). (b) "Linquenda tellus et domus", &c. Horat. Carmin. l. 2. Ode 14.”