The Sapiential and Poetic Books

At this point a new section of the Old Testament Bible begins. The writings we have read thus far—the two groups of narrative works—were in prose, with passages in verse. From here on, the opposite will rather be the case: Books generally poetic in form, but with some passages in prose. This new section will likewise contain two groups of Books: the first by “poets and wisdom writers,” and the second by the “Prophets.”

The first group includes:

—Job: a lengthy dialogue in verse on the problem of suffering.

—Psalms: 150 metrical compositions by various authors and from various periods.

—Proverbs: a collection of several series of sayings and maxims in metrical form.

—Ecclesiastes: an inquiry, again in chiefly metrical form, into the meaning of life.

—Song of Songs: a lyric poem in the form largely of a dramatic action.

—Wisdom: a poetic meditation in a broad poetic form.

—Wisdom of Ben Sira: a carefully worked out metrical composition consisting of maxims and elevations.

In these Books one theme keeps recurring with typical frequency: the theme of wisdom, i.e., wisdom about living. This is why the Books are known as the “Sapiential Books,” although the name applies more strictly to the last five of the seven (thus leaving the adjective “poetic” as a description of the first two). But the concept of wisdom is also abundantly present in Job, which is a lengthy inquiry into wisdom, while among the Psalms, which are chiefly lyrical, there are quite a few that display a sapiential trend and are therefore called “didactic.”

Some remarks are called for on each of two elements: the formal or literary aspect, and the sapiential aspect or the content.

Hebrew Poetry

Verses in Hebrew poetry are composed of two (sometimes three or more) parts, which are called “stichs”—the second of them being in some way symmetrical with the first. This is the characteristic element in all Hebrew poetry and is called “parallelism.” The parallelism can take any of three forms. One is synonymy, which is the most common form; here the same idea is repeated in different words (e.g., Ps 114:4: “The mountains skipped like rams, / the hills like lambs of the flock”; Ps 49:1: “Hear this, all you peoples; / listen carefully, all you inhabitants of the world”).

A second is antithesis, with the contrast putting the same idea into relief (e.g., “A wise son brings joy to his father, / but a foolish son gives grief to his mother”—Prov 10:1); this is, consequently, the form most used in sententious sayings.

A third form, which lends itself to great variety, is a parallelism in a broad sense, when the second stich simply completes the first (e.g., Ps 3:5: “Whenever I cry aloud to the Lord, / he answers me from his holy mountain”). In this third form, then, each of the two stichs often presents part of the idea, so that the entire thought is given by the two together.

Thus, in the example given from Proverbs, the point is not that the good son gives joy to the father alone while the bad son gives grief to the mother alone, but rather that each of the two sons obviously brings joy or grief to the “parents.” So too, in Psalm 92:3, “to proclaim [the Lord’s] kindness in the morning / and [his] faithfulness during the night” means to extol the divine goodness all day long, or “night and day.”

Although verses composed of two stichs are by far the most common, there are, as was said above, verses containing three or more stichs. In fact, the Psalter begins with a three-membered verse: “Blessed is the man / who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked, / nor stand in the way of sinners, / nor sit in the company of scoffers” (Ps 1:1). If we look closely, it seems clear that since “scoffers” is parallel to “wicked” and “sinners,” it is a synonym for these, “scoffing” being a form of wickedness and sin.

Generally speaking, attention to parallelism is a great help for grasping the precise meaning of a passage. When we read: “O God, endow the king with your judgment, / the son of kings with your righteousness” (Ps 72:1), we will not think of two different persons for whom two different favors are being asked, but, at most, that the king in question belongs to a royal dynasty.

Scholars have not yet reached unanimity in regard to strophes; it is generally admitted that they exist, but in practice, it is not easy to distinguish them.

Reality and Life

The Book of Proverbs has preserved opinions and sayings from quite remote ages. We see this straight off, for the proverbs consist of short sentences that transmit a popular observation, for example, a truth embodying the common sense of peasants. Rather than develop some grand theory, these proverbs concentrate on everyday life.

The Teachings and the Challenges

With the coming of the monarchy in the tenth century B.C. and with the organization of political power and a stable administration, there was recognition that public functionaries included not only the priest, but also the prophet and the wise man (or sage). This last became the promoter of an accepted and developed education, a tradition of thought that sought to integrate scientific knowledge, moral ideas, and theological claims. Wisdom thus became governess and teacher, for the benefit especially of those in authority. It ought not to surprise us that all the sacred Books dealing with this wisdom claim Solomon as their author.

From that time on, there seem to have been schools in Israel. Teachers established the kind of environment in which all problems were discussed. They did not close themselves to the experience of other peoples, but assimilated it while modifying it in the interest of providing a way of life that was in conformity with the covenant. With even greater scrupulosity, they collected the sayings of the ancients, the old traditions.

They began by showing respect for existing things, by accepting reality, by humility in the face of human limitations. One thing above all else they inculcated: fidelity to God and to the law that he had given to Israel as its special privilege. Observance of the law was the beginning and end of wisdom, so much so that not infrequently law and wisdom became interchangeable terms.

Then came the bitter experience of the Exile. The difficult return marked the beginning of a new era in a changed cultural setting. It is clear that Israelite wisdom, too, shows the marks of this change, and it does so by dealing with the pressing problems of human beings. This applies, first, to the Book of Job. Its unknown author has a wonderful ability to observe nature and describe the mysteries of the universe, but, first and foremost, this great poem issues a challenge: traditional answers to the tragedy of suffering are inadequate, and the whole problem must be debated.

Next, Ecclesiastes (or Qoheleth) is not satisfied with what is generally regarded as a good education; in the eyes of those who have the courage to think, that is, truly wise people, there is no answer that can remove the scandal of injustice, illness, and death. In the night of the spirit, one must submit to the mystery, remain faithful, and not deny certainties already achieved.

The Period of the Theologians

The way courageously taken by Job and Ecclesiastes must have been regarded as a perilous one by many. Toward the end of the Old Testament another more conservative and reassuring attack on the problems is made: the Book of Ecclesiasticus, today more usually known as Wisdom of Ben Sira. But the author’s serenity and his love of the solid tradition that he greatly desires to hand on also have a specific purpose: to prevent the originality of Israel and, above all, its faith from being diluted amid the heterogeneity of pagan civilizations.

In the course of its development in Israel, wisdom becomes increasingly theological. As biblical literature reaches its close, the teachers of wisdom work out their spiritual and moral synthesis, determine their main positions within the totality of their knowledge, and set these down in major pieces of writing. A few decades before the Christian era, the Book of Wisdom sets forth answers regarding human destiny and the goal of history that were revolutionary in their time.

For these wise men, wisdom acquires new connotations. It is seen as a higher kind of understanding and as a gift of God. Wisdom is imagined as a person at God’s side, a witness to his thoughts and to his plans to make these known to humanity. Wisdom is, as it were, a presence of God in the midst of human beings—a demanding presence, since to acknowledge wisdom means also to be converted.

The texts constantly speak of wisdom, but in reality it is God himself who is being set before the mind and free will of each individual. The theme is developed not only in Wisdom (ch. 7), but especially in Proverbs (chs. 1; 8–9), Job (ch. 28), and Baruch (ch. 3). As seen by Christians, the thinking of these sages foretells in a vague way the presence of Christ, the incarnate word of God, and the coming of the Spirit who acts in the hearts of men and women.

In this collection of reflective works, the Song of Songs also found a place. It is a song that celebrates the love between man and woman and, at the same time, a song of God’s love for humanity. Is this not perhaps the more important thing for the human heart?

The Book of Job

Human Suffering and Divine Justice

The Book of Job will never lose the important place it has so long held in world literature. Never has the question of human suffering and divine justice been so forcefully asked. In the face of this problem all the answers that have been given, even those of the religions, seem pretentious, empty, and false.

In our Christian Bible, Job comes at the head of the series of writings that makes up the Poetic and Sapiential Books, and indeed it is the masterpiece of this collection. It was composed after the Exile and, in all probability, in the fifth century. During that period the temple had been rebuilt (520–515 B.C.; Ezr 5–6) and the walls of Jerusalem had been restored (445 B.C.; Neh 2–3; 6).

The small Jewish community that had been brought together again and organized anew around some important personalities was coming back to life under the more or less liberal control of the Persian authorities. There were difficulties, and as the self-centeredness of the various classes expanded, the injustices and violence of a former time reappeared (Neh 5). The poor were oppressed, and the scandal was all the more serious since the poor were often the most religious and faithful sector of the people. Prophets intervened to remind people of the ideal (Isa 58–59) and to answer the objections of those who were suffering and asking “Where is the God of justice?” (Mal 2:17; 3:13-21). This is precisely the serious question raised by the Book of Job.

The unknown author was certainly a member of the educated circles of Jerusalem. In fact, at a time when Aramaic was becoming the everyday language of the people, this writer handled classical Hebrew with the greatest ease; his many references to matters having to do with Egypt would suggest that he had traveled in the region of the Nile; in any case, he seems to be informed about the situations, mentalities, and traditions of the vast Eastern world around him; perhaps he had read the ancient poems of Egypt and Babylonia that already raised the mystery of suffering (in Egypt, “The Dialogue of the Despairing”; in Babylonia, “The Poem of the Suffering Just Man”).

But the source of his religious thought is to be looked for primarily in the tradition of Israel: in addition to the Books of the covenant and the Lord’s promises to his people (Deut 28), the author has in mind the tragic life of the Prophet Jeremiah, who was the victim of unjust persecution. Then too, following the Prophet Ezekiel, he is convinced that each person is responsible for his actions, good or bad, and is no longer heir to the punishment due past generations (Ezek 18; 33:10-20). Jeremiah’s experience and Ezekiel’s thoughts raise pressing questions.

In the Book of Job, the man who speaks is profoundly religious but also shaken in his faith; he is no longer able to harmonize the most fundamental elements of traditional teaching (God is just and good) with realities that continually impinge on his consciousness (there are righteous persons who suffer and wicked persons who are happy). It may be thought that he had personally experienced the suffering of which he speaks so powerfully and in such detail, and that in the depths of his own tribulation he had repeated Jeremiah’s question: “Why?” (Jer 12:1).

The Book of Job depicts the personal tragedy of a conscience faced with a God who remains silent and whose justice is not visible. It also reflects the drama of Hebrew thought in this fifth century in which the Poor of the Lord (the anawim) find themselves plunged into an unexpected experience: disillusionment.

They have been disillusioned at the national level, since the enthusiastic predictions of the Prophets have not been fulfilled (Isa 35; 54; 60–62); they have been no less deeply disillusioned in their individual lives, since their fidelity to God has not profited them and since every day brings evidence that happiness is not proportioned to merit or to virtue, despite what the devout disciples of the Prophet Ezekiel too readily claim. The faith of Israel finds itself in a blind alley; it gropes blindly for a God who has become more distant and more mysterious.

But God himself is guiding the painful search; his grace is sustaining Israel, purifying its faith, and preparing it through tribulation to receive an increase in light with the revelation of a life that does not reach its end on earth. It will be necessary to wait until the second century (Dan 12:2-3; 1 Mac 7) before this certainty prevails.

While this conviction, which becomes a central assertion of the New Testament (Mt 5–7; Jn 11:24-25), satisfies the sense of justice and the quest for a personal destiny, it does not resolve all the problems raised by the author of the Book of Job. Job’s deeply human tragedy is that of every age, since it touches human beings in that which is most personal and instinctive in them: the dread of suffering. However, Jesus with his message and example answers even this, by revealing the value and meaning of suffering as a trial and by teaching us to accept it while retaining a limitless trust in God our Father (see Lk 23:46).

The Book is made up essentially of a lengthy poetic debate between Job, the suffering righteous man, and his friends, who stick to the traditional teaching. Accusation and defense, solemn assertions and lyrical outpourings are woven together in an endless dialogue. The author evidently sides with Job, and yet each of the dialoguing persons contributes a carefully constructed religious outlook. Among the chapters are extremely beautiful poetic compositions on the earthly human condition, the secrets of the universe, and the spectacle that is this world. The cry of suffering is heartrending, but it does not prevent pauses for admiration. In the dispute among human beings, Job seems to have the last word (see ch. 31). But in this context what good is it to be right?

At the end, the Lord intervenes. This is the mystical moment, and Job the man is unexpectedly gripped by wonder in the presence of God’s greatness and rises above his anguished question. In silence he comes to a more adequate idea of divine justice and to a humble acceptance of the human condition.

There is also, however, the far better known story of Job, a popular story, written in prose, that frames the forty chapters of dramatic debate. It takes the form of a short prologue (the misfortunes of Job) and a short epilogue (the restoration of Job). But this story presents us with a rather different personage from the one who speaks in the lengthy oratorical jousts. Job in the story is a righteous man for whom trials are not a scandal but simply an occasion for showing God a perfect and disinterested submission; because of this attitude, he will find himself once again covered in blessings. Yet this is the story that the author uses to begin and end his drama.

Sometimes the only thing people remember from the entire Book is the story just described which, in the style of early accounts in Genesis, emphasizes the patience of Job. But despite the naive freshness and religious value of this popular legend, we must move beyond it if we are to uncover the real intentions of the author in the beautiful passages of the dialogues. His thought is hidden at almost every point in the confrontation of the several personages, and it would be an oversimplification to condemn in advance all the interventions of Job’s clumsy friends. Each sheds light on some aspect of the truth, but it is especially Job and, at the end, God’s final summation (chs. 38–41) that reveal the depths of the author’s thought and communicate to us the essentials of his message on human suffering and divine justice.

The Book of Job may be divided as follows:

I: Prologue: Job’s Prosperity, Woes, and Resignation (1:1—2:13)

II: First Cycle of Speeches (3:1—14:22)

III: Second Cycle of Speeches (15:1—21:34)

IV: Third Cycle of Speeches (22:1—31:40)

V: The Four Speeches of Elihu (32:1—37:24)

VI: The Intervention of God (38:1—42:6)

VII: Epilogue: Job’s Honor and Goods Are Restored (42:7-17)