Lord who had taken it, and therefore in his loss he re- mained in understanding with the Lord; in his loss, he preserved his confidence in the Lord; he looked upon the Lord and therefore he did not see despair. Or does only that man see God's hand who sees that He gives; does not that one also see God who sees that He takes? Does only that one see God who sees His countenance turned to- ward him? Does not that one also see God who sees Him turn His back upon him, as Moses always saw only the Lord's back? But he who sees God has overcome the world, and therefore Job in his devout word had over- come the world; was through his devout word greater and stronger and more powerful than the whole world, which here would not so much carry him into temptation but would overcome him with its power, cause him to sink down before its boundless might. And yet how weak, in- deed almost childishly so, is not the wild fury of the storm, when it thinks to cause a man to tremble for him- self by wresting everything away from him, and he an- swers, "It is not you who do this, it is the Lord who takes!" How impotent is the arm of every man of vio- lence, how wretched his shrewd cleverness, how all hu- man power becomes almost an object of compassion, when it wishes to plunge the weak into the destruction of des- pair by wresting everything from him, and he then con- fidently says, "It is not you, you can do nothing— it is the Lord who takes."
Blessed be the name of the Lord! Hence Job not only overcame the world, but he did what Paul had desired his striving congregation to do: after having overcome everything, he stood. Alas, perhaps there has been some- one in the world who overcame everything, but who THE LORD GAVE 83 failed in the moment of victory. The Lord's name be praised! Hence the Lord remained the same, and ought He not to be praised as always? Or had the Lord really changed? Or did not the Lord in truth remain the same, as did Job? The Lord's name be praised! Hence the Lord did not take everything, for He did not take away Job's praise, and his peace of heart, and the sincerity of faith from which it issued; but his confidence in the Lord re- mained with him as before, perhaps more fervently than before; for now there was nothing at all which could in any way divert his thought from Him. The Lord took it all. Then Job gathered together all his sorrows and "cast them upon the Lord," and then He also took those from him, and only praise remained in the incorruptible joy of his heart. For Job's house was a house of sorrow if ever a house was such, but where this word is spoken, "Blessed be the name of the Lord," there gladness also has its home. And Job indeed stands before us the image of sorrow, expressed in his countenance and in his form; but he who utters this word as Job did still bears witness to the joy, even if his testimony does not direct itself to the joyous but to the concerned, and yet speaks intelligibly to the many who have ears to hear. For the ear of the concerned is fashioned in a special manner, and as the ear of the lover indeed hears many voices but really only one— the voice of the beloved, so the ear of the con cerned also hears many voices, but they pass by and do not enter his heart. As faith and hope without love are only sounding brass and tinkling cymbals, so all the glad- ness in the world in which no sorrow is mingled is only sounding brass and tinkling cymbals, which flatter the ear but are abhorrent to the soul. But this voice of con- solation, this voice which trembles in pain and yet proclaims the gladness, this the ear of the concerned hears, his heart treasures it, it strengthens and guides him even to finding joy in the depths of sorrow.
My hearer, is it not true? You have understood Job's eulogy; it has at least seemed beautiful to you in the quiet moment of reflection, so that in thinking of it you had for- gotten what you did not wish to be reminded of, that which indeed is sometimes heard in the world in the day of need, instead of praise and blessing. So let it then be forgotten, you will deserve, as little as I, that the memory of it should again be revived.
We have spoken about Job, and have sought to under- stand him in his devout expression, without the speech wishing to force itself upon anyone. But should it there- fore be entirely without significance or application, and concern no one? If you yourself, my hearer, have been tried as Job was, and have stood the testing as he did, then it truly applies to you, if we have spoken rightly about Job. If hitherto you have not been tested in life, then it indeed applies to you. Do you think perhaps that these words apply only under such extraordinary circum- stances as those in which Job was placed? Is it perhaps your belief that if such a thing struck you, then the terror itself would give you strength, develop within you that humble courage? Did not Job have a wife, what do we read about her? Perhaps you think that terror cannot get as much power over a man as can the daily thralldom in much smaller adversities. Then look you to it that you, as little as any man, do not become enslaved by some tribu- lation, and above all learn from Job to be sincere with yourself, so that you may not delude yourself by an imag- ined strength, through which you experience imaginary victories in an imaginary conflict.
THE LORD GAVE 85 THE LORD GAVE 85 Perhaps you say, if the Lord had taken it from me, but nothing was given to me; perhaps you believe that this is by no means as terrible as was Job's suffering, but that it is far more wearing, and consequently a more difficult struggle. We shall not quarrel with you. For even if this were true, the quarrel would still be unprofitable, and increase the difficulty. But in one thing we are in agree- ment, that you can learn from Job, and, if you are honest with yourself and love humanity, then you cannot wish to evade Job, in order to venture out into a hitherto un- known difficulty, and keep the rest of us in suspense, until we learn from your testimony that a victory is also pos- sible in this difficulty. So if you then learn from Job to say, "Blessed be the name of the Lord," this applies to you, even if the preceding is less applicable.
Or perhaps you believe that such a thing cannot hap- pen to you? Who taught you this wisdom, or on what do you base your assurance? Are you wise and under- standing, and is this your confidence? Job was the teacher of many. Are you young, and your youth your assurance? Job had also been young. Are you old, on the verge of the grave? Job was an old man when sorrow overtook him. Are you powerful, is this your assurance of immun- ity? Job was reverenced by the people. Are riches your security? Job possessed the blessing of lands. Are your friends your guarantors? Job was loved by everyone. Do you put your confidence in God? Job was the Lord's con- fidant. Have you reflected on these thoughts, or have you not rather avoided them, so that they might not extort from you a confession, which you now perhaps call a melancholy mood? And yet there is no hiding place in the wide world where troubles may not find you, and there has never lived a man who was able to say more 86 86 than you can say, that you do not know when sorrow will visit your house. So be sincere with yourself, fix your eyes upon Job; even though he terrifies you, it is not this he wishes, if you yourself do not wish it. You still could not wish, when you survey your life and think of its end, that you should have to confess, "I was fortunate, not like other men; I have never suffered anything in the world, and I have let each day have its own sorrows, or rather bring me new joys." Such a confession, even if it were true, you could still never wish to make, aye, it would in- volve your own humiliation; for if you had been pre- served from sorrow, as no other had, you would still say, "I have indeed not been tested in it, but still my mind has frequently occupied itself seriously with the thought of Job, and with the idea that no man knows the time and the hour when the messengers will come to him, each one more terrifying than the last."
REMEMBER NOW THY CREATOR IN THE DAYS OF THY YOUTH Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth, while the evil days come not, nor the years draw nigh when thou shalt say, I have no pleasure in them. Ecclesiastes 12:1 T^HERE is a truth whose greatness, whose sublimity, we are accustomed to extol by saying that it is an objective truth, that it is equally valid whether any- one accepts it or not; indifferent to the special circum- stances of the individual, whether he is young or old, happy or depressed; indifferent to its own relation to him, whether it benefits him or injures him, whether it re- strains him from something or helps him attain it; equal- ly valid whether he subscribes to it with his whole heart, or professes it coldly and unemotionally, whether he lays down his life for it, or uses it merely as a means of gain; whether he himself discovered it, or he merely repeats it by rote. And only that man would have the true under- standing of it, the legitimate admiration, who understood that this objectivity is the main thing, and who allowed himself to be shaped in conformity with this into an objectivity toward that which concerns himself or some man as man, or particularly as man.
There is another kind of truth, or if this is more un- assuming, another kind of truths, which we might call the concerned truths. Their life is not so exalted, perhaps because abashed, as it were, they are themselves conscious that they are not quite appropriate for all general occa- sions, but only specially for individual occasions. They are not indifferent to the particular condition of the individual, whether he is young or old, happy or depressed; for this decides for them whether they may be truths for him. Nor do they at once release the individual and aban- don him, but they continue to be concerned about him until he completely frees himself, and not even this is a matter of indifference to them, although he is still not able to make them doubtful about themselves.
Such a truth is not indifferent as to how the individual accepts it, whether he appropriates it with his whole heart, or whether it merely becomes idle words to him, for this difference proves exactly whether he is jealous for himself. Such a truth is not indifferent as to whether it be- comes a blessing or a curse to the individual, for the con- verse decision precisely testifies against the equal validity. It is not indifferent as to whether he sincerely has confi- dence in it, or self-deceived wishes to deceive others, for its avenging wrath proves conclusively that it is not indif- ferent. Such a concerned truth is not indifferent as to who has proclaimed it; on the contrary he continues to be con- stantly present with it, in order that it may again concern itself about the individual.
One such concerned truth is that tested admonition, repeated for hundreds of years, which we have read. And if you could have heard the voice of him who uttered it, then you would certainly realize how moved he was per- sonally. And if you could see his face, and you yourself were a young man, then you would be gripped by the solicitude with which he concerned himself about you, while, at most, he could still only arouse you to concern about yourself. Who, then, was the man who uttered these words? We do not know. But if you are young, even if you stood next in succession to the throne and your thoughts were such as would be inspired by the expecta- REMEMBER NOW THY CREATOR 89 tion of dominion, then we are told that this man, too, wore the kingly purple, although, notwithstanding all this, he believed that the thought about the Creator was the best thought of youth. And if you are young, even if your life is impoverished, untempted by any glittering prospects, you still have his royal word, that, notwith- standing all this, the thought about the Creator is still the most beautiful excellence of youth. Therefore, even if the story about a king having spoken these words is only a pious wish which wishes to reconcile the greatest inequalities in the simple understanding of the same word, the word itself in different ways is troubled about the inequalities.
For when one who is royal born and will sometime rule over kingdoms and countries, sees upon the wall of a humble cottage a picture such as might be expected in such humble circumstances, a picture whose crudities al- most provoke a smile, and he comes closer to it and reads those words in the inscription on the picture, then the Preacher speaks to him, but the Preacher was also a king. And when the son of the poor man stands astonished in the palace, when unclarified thoughts awaken in his soul, as awe-struck he beholds the kingly majesty, then the Preacher speaks to him, and the Preacher was also a king. Then reconciled he returns home to his humble dwelling and to his poor picture on the wall.
Is there then no compromise? Or will you assume the appearance of contentment in order to seek untimely quarrels to prove that you do not covet the splendor of a king— but that neither are you satisfied with thinking about your Creator! As if that self-created satisfaction were not an arbitrary merit for which you dare not praise yourself, aye, what is worse, a sign of your paltriness, 9o 9o which only testifies against you! Is there anything indeed in the wide world which is able, any more than the world itself is able, to compensate a man for the injury he would inflict upon his soul if he gave up the thought of God? But the one who, blinded as he was, demanded the highest, he still let it be understood that in a certain im- perfect sense he grasped the significance of that which he relinquished.
Or was it perhaps otherwise with you? You were per- haps unwilling to consent to a compromise, just because it was a king who had spoken these words, and "a king always gets everything he points at; after he has followed the ways of pleasure to the uttermost limit of enjoyment, what wonder that his view of life suddenly undergoes a change?" The words would certainly have significance, but the admonition could not be accepted; because the words are certainly concerned, but not concerned about any individual; they were indeed words of concern, they were indeed reconciled with life, insofar as it had been softened by sorrow, but nevertheless only a sigh from the recesses of sadness, a sigh at the moment when the wearied soul bids the world farewell, but still only a bubble that bursts, no matter from what depth it rises. For there is a wisdom which almost prefers the concealment of madness, and in the sight of men affords satisfaction to everyone by its strange actions. But the sigh itself and the outburst and the emotion concern no one, no one in the whole world, not even the one from whose heart the sigh issues. Such a brief word, in which the heart would break, such a language of the heart, not emphatic like the language of thought, but trembling in earnestness, is sometimes heard in the world. It will not illuminate anyone's way; for the sun lights a man's way by day, and the moon will REMEMBER NOW THY CREATOR 91 shine for him at night, but the will-o'-the-wisp in the fogs of night does not furnish light, not even for itself.
When a man's life draws toward evening, when, weary and thoughtful, he holds intercourse with death as his only confidant; when his spirit has lost the power to make up the reckoning in earnest, and death has become the comforter; when the will and the purpose desire nothing more, but the thought hazily centers about past expe- riences; while oblivion like a busy journeyman works ear- ly and late in the service of consolation— and youth slips past the soul like a dream, then such a man says to himself, as his mind dwells on the most beautiful significance of life, as this once appeared to him: "Happy the man who is done with it!"
But if a young man stood by his side upon whom life still had all its claims, then he would not speak in this way. Only when he sits alone, sunken like a ruin, lost in sadness, only then he says it, not to some man, not to his own soul, but he says it as to the air: "Happy the man who is done with it." And as the physician recognizes the sign of death in the face, so the psychologist knows that this outbreak indicates that the spirit wishes to be ex- tinguished. The outburst may well have its own signifi- cance, but one will seek vainly in it for the strength of the admonition because there is no faith in it, faith in oneself's having perfected the good, or in another's hav- ing succeeded in doing so. And he who eagerly listens to such words, is, as often as not, himself in a similar condi- tion, or at least in a sadly suspicious realization that some- thing similar may befall him, and therefore they both find relief and alleviation in swooning in that weakness where neither the admonition disturbs them, nor the blessing of the admonition rests upon them.
92 92 "All is vanity and vexation of spirit," says the Preacher, and the light-minded regard such an expression as an ingenious triviality, the thoughtless as an unsolved riddle, and the melancholy as a stupefying drink, which makes the last condition worse than the first. The Preacher has spoken many such words, all of which would be profit- able if they could help anyone to save himself from going through the same experience, or, at least, could help him to renounce the vain desires which constantly become more and more ingenious. But are the words we read of such a nature? I wonder if the Preacher has not said all that precedes for the sake of this and similar words; and I wonder if he would not readily have refrained from saying all the rest, if only someone would accept this word!
For the Preacher actually says that "childhood and youth are also vanity," and insofar, even to have done what he encourages one to do, "to let the heart cheer him in the days of youth, and to walk in the ways of the heart, and in the sight of the eyes," would be vanity; but has the Preacher ever said that to consider the Creator in youth is vanity and vexation of spirit; or that to have considered Him in youth would also sometime appear to have been vanity? Has he mingled the word about this in with the rest? Or is not the manner in which he says this as far removed from the manner in which he says the rest as heaven is from earth? Has he not precisely resolved every- thing into vanity in order that the blessed and eternal significance of this thought may rightly appear, so that it may bind the wandering soul in obedience under the admonition?
He does not say, as ordinarily: "So rejoice in your youth, so put sorrow from you," where the expression itself, by casually disposing of the matter, indicates that REMEMBER NOW THY CREATOR 93 what he speaks about is of no concern to anyone. He has omitted this little casual word, and as the discourse about vanity goes on, and will, as it were, carry everything away in vanity, the Preacher stands up to resolve the confusion, so that it does not go beyond its limits; to check the vanity by a definite expression of admonition: "Therefore, con- sider thy Creator."
He does not speak as if this thought were merely a youth's thought, which still would sometime be out- grown; he does not speak about it as about something past which had once had significance; not as about some- thing past, of which it was desirable that it should once have had significance; no, the youth's significance is ex- actly this thought's significance, and it is precisely by means of this thought that youth must be assured against being vanity, assured against sometime seeming to be vanity. He does not speak like a man who wishes, or like one who longs, or like one who swoons; but with the power of conviction, with the authority of experience, with the reliability of complete knowledge, with the glad confidence of liberty, with the emphasis of earnestness, with the concern of admonition, he speaks to the young.
He does not speak vaguely about youth in general, but, as the individual does not understand in general that he is young, for such an understanding really belongs to a later age, he understands it as a matter for his own per- sonal concern, and it is just in this way that the Preacher wishes to have the admonition understood. For this is the solicitude in the admonition, that although it can be repeated again and again and concern an innumer- able multitude, yet each time it speaks to the individual, since it is as if it spoke to him alone, as if it were only for his sake, as if it were unconcerned about all the rest of the 94 world, but the more concerned about him; moreover, as concerned as if the youth were conferring a favor by ac- cepting it. This is the way the word is spoken, and if you thoughtlessly or sadly were to attempt to deceive the Preacher, or to trick him out of the admonition, which would certainly be a distressing thing to do, you would not be able to do it; for the Preacher has been guilty of no ambiguity.
Thus the Preacher speaks admonishingly, and if you are young, even if you have earlier dedicated yourself to the pursuit of wisdom, he still speaks to you. And if you are young, even if you are among the more simple, you still need not stand begging at the door of that wisdom, for the Preacher's concern is for you also and he not only says you may consider your Creator, but he exhorts you to do so. And if you are young, if you are happy, if you are distressed, if you are unconcerned, if you are despondent at being what you are, it is still you, just you to whom he speaks, you to whom the admonition applies, as does also the reason for the admonition— "before the evil days come, and the years draw nigh, when you shall say: 'I have no pleasure in them.' " Therefore, in what he said earlier he sought to drive your soul up from its security to see the vanity of life; he prevented it from "believing in vain," for otherwise his admonition, however well-meant it was, would always remain a vanity, or rather, a serious matter which was always taken in vain. Youth does not think of the evil days, and does not understand what it means to say that the "sound of the grinding is low, and all of the daughters of music are brought low," and prevents itself from doing what it emphatically understands for some other age. And when the evil days come, and the "sound of the grinding is low, and the daughters of REMEMBER NOW THY CREATOR 95 music are brought low," then if one has not remembered his Creator in his youth, he has not only lost his youth, but the understanding of youth's thought about the Creator.
Thus the Preacher addresses his admonition to the young. But he who wishes to speak about the passage we read, should endeavor not only to make the thoughts con- tained in the passage explicit, but to make the speech itself explicit; for "if the trumpet give forth an uncertain sound, who shall prepare himself for battle?" But to make the speech explicit— what else does this mean than that it should concern some particular individual, that it should speak to some man for his edification? Now it is certainly true that the concerned truth of the admonition addresses itself to the individual according to the special circum- stances of his life; but the speech about this truth must still guard itself against conditioning the edification through the accidental; must certainly guard against the accidental enviously coming into conflict and contradic- tion with what is otherwise edifying; for then the edifica- tion is untrue, and naught but an unwholesome diver- sion, brought about by a preference or a mistaken wish which foolishly desires this.
Thus if someone wished to be edified by the thought about old age, but in so special a manner that youth could not be edified by the same thought, then the edification itself would be irrational. If one were to say, for the edifi- cation of an old man, that everything would soon be over, might he not by this speech disturb the young? For why would he not become despondent and tired of life long before his time, if the best one could say of it at its end was that everything would soon be over? But such an edification is a deception, a deceitful compromise, for 96