"Give him over to me and Thou wilt see that Thy servant will murmur against Thee and curse Thy name." And God gave up the just man He loved so, to the devil.And the devil smote his children and his cattle and scattered his wealth, all of a sudden like a thunderbolt from heaven.And Job rent his mantle and fell down upon the ground and cried aloud, "Naked came I out of my mother's womb, and naked shall I return into the earth; the Lord gave and the Lord has taken away.
Blessed be the name of the Lord for ever and ever."Fathers and teachers, forgive my tears now, for all my childhood rises up again before me, and I breathe now as I breathed then, with the breast of a little child of eight, and I feel as I did then, awe and wonder and gladness.The camels at that time caught my imagination, and Satan, who talked like that with God, and God who gave His servant up to destruction, and His servant crying out:
"Blessed be Thy name although Thou dost punish me," and then the soft and sweet singing in the church: "Let my prayer rise up before Thee," and again incense from the priest's censer and the kneeling and the prayer.Ever since then- only yesterday I took it up- I've never been able to read that sacred tale without tears.And how much that is great, mysterious and unfathomable there is in it! Afterwards Iheard the words of mockery and blame, proud words, "How could God give up the most loved of His saints for the diversion of the devil, take from him his children, smite him with sore boils so that he cleansed the corruption from his sores with a potsherd- and for no object except to boast to the devil 'See what My saint can suffer for My sake.' "But the greatness of it lies just in the fact that it is a mystery- that the passing earthly show and the eternal verity are brought together in it.In the face of the earthly truth, the eternal truth is accomplished.The Creator, just as on the first days of creation He ended each day with praise: "That is good that Ihave created," looks upon Job and again praises His creation.And Job, praising the Lord, serves not only Him but all His creation for generations and generations, and for ever and ever, since for that he was ordained.Good heavens, what a book it is, and what lessons there are in it! What a book the Bible is, what a miracle, what strength is given with it to man! It is like a mould cast of the world and man and human nature, everything is there, and a law for everything for all the ages.And what mysteries are solved and revealed! God raises Job again, gives him wealth again.Many years pass by, and he has other children and loves them.But how could he love those new ones when those first children are no more, when he has lost them? Remembering them, how could he be fully happy with those new ones, however dear the new ones might be? But he could, he could.It's the great mystery of human life that old grief passes gradually into quiet, tender joy.The mild serenity of age takes the place of the riotous blood of youth.I bless the rising sun each day, and, as before, my heart sings to meet it, but now I love even more its setting, its long slanting rays and the soft, tender, gentle memories that come with them, the dear images from the whole of my long, happy life- and over all the Divine Truth, softening, reconciling, forgiving! My life is ending, I know that well, but every day that is left me I feel how earthly life is in touch with a new infinite, unknown, but approaching life, the nearness of which sets my soul quivering with rapture, my mind glowing and my heart weeping with joy.
Friends and teachers, I have heard more than once, and of late one may hear it more often, that the priests, and above all the village priests, are complaining on all sides of their miserable income and their humiliating lot.They plainly state, even in print- I've read it myself- that they are unable to teach the Scriptures to the people because of the smallness of their means, and if Lutherans and heretics come and lead the flock astray, they let them lead them astray because they have so little to live upon.May the Lord increase the sustenance that is so precious to them, for their complaint is just, too.But of a truth I say, if anyone is to blame in the matter, half the fault is ours.For he may be short of time, he may say truly that he is overwhelmed all the while with work and services, but still it's not all the time, even he has an hour a week to remember God.And he does not work the whole year round.Let him gather round him once a week, some hour in the evening, if only the children at first- the fathers will hear of it and they too will begin to come.There's no need to build halls for this, let him take them into his own cottage.They won't spoil his cottage, they would only be there one hour.Let him open that book and begin reading it without grand words or superciliousness, without condescension to them, but gently and kindly, being glad that he is reading to them and that they are listening with attention, loving the words himself, only stopping from time to time to explain words that are not understood by the peasants.
