If I say: I will not speak so: I change my face, and am tormented with sorrow.
אִם־אָ֭מְרִי אֶשְׁכְּחָ֣ה שִׂיחִ֑י אֶעֶזְבָ֖ה פָנַ֣י וְאַבְלִֽיגָה׃
3 Church Fathers comment on this verse
When I attempt to speak, my words slip from my memory. In other words, even my recollections feel lifeless, leaving me uncertain of what I am expressing. Such is the magnitude of my suffering! In the midst of my speech, I lose track of my thoughts. The anguish is overwhelming, and the trials are immense!
We acknowledge that speaking in this manner is beyond our frail human nature, leading us to enter a state of anxious anticipation and compelling ourselves to regard the sacredness of all that transcends us. In this state, our perception shifts; all that we previously pursued without insight now recognizes its own limitations, beginning to show reverence even in its ignorance. However, this transformation carries with it a certain anguish, for the mind becomes so troubled that, in the wake of original sin, it falls into blindness, unable to comprehend what it encounters. Our righteous deeds, on their own, cannot evade the lurking threat of sin unless they are consistently bolstered by a deep and respectful awe.
Thus, the righteous declare, ‘I have feared all my works.’ This implies humility: ‘I see what I have openly achieved, yet I remain unaware of the hidden transgressions that may ensnare me.’ Frequently, our virtuous acts are undermined by the deception of earthly ambitions and can wither away due to inertia, as the passion that ignited them diminishes and love grows cold. Given that the cunning of sin can manifest even in our moments of virtue, what can ensure our steadfastness but a careful and ongoing fear, even amid our goodness? Following this, he presents a challenging thought: ‘I know that Thou wilt not forgive the backslider.’ If one who sins is not forgiven, who can escape eternal separation, since no one is free from sin? Or does forgiveness extend only to those who repent, and not to those who simply transgress? When we grieve for our wrongdoings, we cease to be defined as sinners.
Job acknowledges alongside his companions that he cannot defend himself before God, who reveals His wisdom and might through earthquakes, tempests, and the glorious expanse filled with stunning constellations, and who is not obliged to explain His actions to anyone. Thus, it is wiser to concede our faults before Him than to engage in disputes with the Almighty. This reflects Job's desire, even while he holds to his innocence: he observes how the righteous are frequently scorned by the wicked, and he himself endures suffering without cause.
Job faces the unfortunate reality of having to confess himself guilty before God, a situation that could be different were there a mediator to bridge the gap between him and God—someone equally capable of judging both human and divine matters—and if God would turn away His hand of discipline from him.
Passages read together with this verse.
THEOSIS