Job 16:1-22 - Муқоисаи ҳамаи нусхаҳо

Паҳн кунед

Then Job replied: “I have heard many things like these; you are miserable comforters, all of you! Will your long-winded speeches never end? What ails you that you keep on arguing? I also could speak like you, if you were in my place; I could make fine speeches against you and shake my head at you. But my mouth would encourage you; comfort from my lips would bring you relief. “Yet if I speak, my pain is not relieved; and if I refrain, it does not go away. Surely, God, you have worn me out; you have devastated my entire household. You have shriveled me up—and it has become a witness; my gauntness rises up and testifies against me. God assails me and tears me in his anger and gnashes his teeth at me; my opponent fastens on me his piercing eyes. People open their mouths to jeer at me; they strike my cheek in scorn and unite together against me. God has turned me over to the ungodly and thrown me into the clutches of the wicked. All was well with me, but he shattered me; he seized me by the neck and crushed me. He has made me his target; his archers surround me. Without pity, he pierces my kidneys and spills my gall on the ground. Again and again he bursts upon me; he rushes at me like a warrior. “I have sewed sackcloth over my skin and buried my brow in the dust. My face is red with weeping, dark shadows ring my eyes; yet my hands have been free of violence and my prayer is pure. “Earth, do not cover my blood; may my cry never be laid to rest! Even now my witness is in heaven; my advocate is on high. My intercessor is my friend as my eyes pour out tears to God; on behalf of a man he pleads with God as one pleads for a friend. “Only a few years will pass before I take the path of no return.

Then Job answered and said: “I have heard many such things; miserable comforters are you all. Shall windy words have an end? Or what provokes you that you answer? I also could speak as you do, if you were in my place; I could join words together against you and shake my head at you. I could strengthen you with my mouth, and the solace of my lips would assuage your pain. “If I speak, my pain is not assuaged, and if I forbear, how much of it leaves me? Surely now God has worn me out; he has made desolate all my company. And he has shriveled me up, which is a witness against me, and my leanness has risen up against me; it testifies to my face. He has torn me in his wrath and hated me; he has gnashed his teeth at me; my adversary sharpens his eyes against me. Men have gaped at me with their mouth; they have struck me insolently on the cheek; they mass themselves together against me. God gives me up to the ungodly and casts me into the hands of the wicked. I was at ease, and he broke me apart; he seized me by the neck and dashed me to pieces; he set me up as his target; his archers surround me. He slashes open my kidneys and does not spare; he pours out my gall on the ground. He breaks me with breach upon breach; he runs upon me like a warrior. I have sewed sackcloth upon my skin and have laid my strength in the dust. My face is red with weeping, and on my eyelids is deep darkness, although there is no violence in my hands, and my prayer is pure. “O earth, cover not my blood, and let my cry find no resting place. Even now, behold, my witness is in heaven, and he who testifies for me is on high. My friends scorn me; my eye pours out tears to God, that he would argue the case of a man with God, as a son of man does with his neighbor. For when a few years have come I shall go the way from which I shall not return.

Then Job spoke again: “I have heard all this before. What miserable comforters you are! Won’t you ever stop blowing hot air? What makes you keep on talking? I could say the same things if you were in my place. I could spout off criticism and shake my head at you. But if it were me, I would encourage you. I would try to take away your grief. Instead, I suffer if I defend myself, and I suffer no less if I refuse to speak. “O God, you have ground me down and devastated my family. As if to prove I have sinned, you’ve reduced me to skin and bones. My gaunt flesh testifies against me. God hates me and angrily tears me apart. He snaps his teeth at me and pierces me with his eyes. People jeer and laugh at me. They slap my cheek in contempt. A mob gathers against me. God has handed me over to sinners. He has tossed me into the hands of the wicked. “I was living quietly until he shattered me. He took me by the neck and broke me in pieces. Then he set me up as his target, and now his archers surround me. His arrows pierce me without mercy. The ground is wet with my blood. Again and again he smashes against me, charging at me like a warrior. I wear burlap to show my grief. My pride lies in the dust. My eyes are red with weeping; dark shadows circle my eyes. Yet I have done no wrong, and my prayer is pure. “O earth, do not conceal my blood. Let it cry out on my behalf. Even now my witness is in heaven. My advocate is there on high. My friends scorn me, but I pour out my tears to God. I need someone to mediate between God and me, as a person mediates between friends. For soon I must go down that road from which I will never return.

Then Job answered: I have heard many things like these. You are all miserable comforters.  Is there no end to your empty  ,  words? What provokes you that you continue testifying? If you were in my place I could also talk like you. I could string words together against you and shake my head at you. Instead, I would encourage you with my mouth, and the consolation from my lips would bring relief.  If I speak, my suffering is not relieved, and if I hold back, does any of it leave me? Surely he  has now exhausted me. You have devastated my entire family. You have shriveled me up   — it has become a witness; my frailty rises up against me and testifies to my face. His anger tears at me, and he harasses   me. He gnashes his teeth at me. My enemy pierces me with his eyes. They open their mouths against me and strike my cheeks with contempt;  they join themselves together against me. God hands me over to the unjust;  he throws me to the wicked. I was at ease, but he shattered me; he seized me by the scruff of the neck and smashed me to pieces. He set me up as his target;  his archers  surround me. He pierces my kidneys without mercy and pours my bile on the ground. He breaks through my defenses again and again;  he charges at me like a warrior.  I have sewn sackcloth over my skin; I have buried my strength  in the dust.  My face has grown red with weeping, and darkness  covers my eyes, although my hands are free from violence  and my prayer is pure. Earth, do not cover my blood; may my cry for help find no resting place.  Even now my witness is in heaven, and my advocate is in the heights!  My friends scoff at me as I weep before God. I wish that someone might argue for a man with God  just as anyone  would for a friend. For only a few years will pass before I go the way of no return.

Then Job answered and said, I have heard many such things: Miserable comforters are ye all. Shall vain words have an end? Or what emboldeneth thee that thou answerest? I also could speak as ye do: If your soul were in my soul's stead, I could heap up words against you, And shake mine head at you. But I would strengthen you with my mouth, And the moving of my lips should asswage your grief. Though I speak, my grief is not asswaged: And though I forbear, what am I eased? But now he hath made me weary: Thou hast made desolate all my company. And thou hast filled me with wrinkles, which is a witness against me: And my leanness rising up in me beareth witness to my face. He teareth me in his wrath, who hateth me: He gnasheth upon me with his teeth; Mine enemy sharpeneth his eyes upon me. They have gaped upon me with their mouth; They have smitten me upon the cheek reproachfully; They have gathered themselves together against me. God hath delivered me to the ungodly, And turned me over into the hands of the wicked. I was at ease, but he hath broken me asunder: He hath also taken me by my neck, and shaken me to pieces, And set me up for his mark. His archers compass me round about, He cleaveth my reins asunder, and doth not spare; He poureth out my gall upon the ground. He breaketh me with breach upon breach, He runneth upon me like a giant. I have sewed sackcloth upon my skin, And defiled my horn in the dust. My face is foul with weeping, And on my eyelids is the shadow of death; Not for any injustice in mine hands: Also my prayer is pure. O earth, cover not thou my blood, And let my cry have no place. Also now, behold, my witness is in heaven, And my record is on high. My friends scorn me: but mine eye poureth out tears unto God. O that one might plead for a man with God, As a man pleadeth for his neighbour! When a few years are come, Then I shall go the way whence I shall not return.

Then Job answered and said: “I have heard many such things; Miserable comforters are you all! Shall words of wind have an end? Or what provokes you that you answer? I also could speak as you do, If your soul were in my soul’s place. I could heap up words against you, And shake my head at you; But I would strengthen you with my mouth, And the comfort of my lips would relieve your grief. “Though I speak, my grief is not relieved; And if I remain silent, how am I eased? But now He has worn me out; You have made desolate all my company. You have shriveled me up, And it is a witness against me; My leanness rises up against me And bears witness to my face. He tears me in His wrath, and hates me; He gnashes at me with His teeth; My adversary sharpens His gaze on me. They gape at me with their mouth, They strike me reproachfully on the cheek, They gather together against me. God has delivered me to the ungodly, And turned me over to the hands of the wicked. I was at ease, but He has shattered me; He also has taken me by my neck, and shaken me to pieces; He has set me up for His target, His archers surround me. He pierces my heart and does not pity; He pours out my gall on the ground. He breaks me with wound upon wound; He runs at me like a warrior. “I have sewn sackcloth over my skin, And laid my head in the dust. My face is flushed from weeping, And on my eyelids is the shadow of death; Although no violence is in my hands, And my prayer is pure. “O earth, do not cover my blood, And let my cry have no resting place! Surely even now my witness is in heaven, And my evidence is on high. My friends scorn me; My eyes pour out tears to God. Oh, that one might plead for a man with God, As a man pleads for his neighbor! For when a few years are finished, I shall go the way of no return.

Then Job defended himself: “I’ve had all I can take of your talk. What a bunch of miserable comforters! Is there no end to your windbag speeches? What’s your problem that you go on and on like this? If you were in my shoes, I could talk just like you. I could put together a terrific tirade and really let you have it. But I’d never do that. I’d console and comfort, make things better, not worse! “When I speak up, I feel no better; if I say nothing, that doesn’t help either. I feel worn down. God, you have wasted me totally—me and my family! You’ve shriveled me like a dried prune, showing the world that you’re against me. My gaunt face stares back at me from the mirror, a mute witness to your treatment of me. Your anger tears at me, your teeth rip me to shreds, your eyes burn holes in me—God, my enemy! People take one look at me and gasp. Contemptuous, they slap me around and gang up against me. And God just stands there and lets them do it, lets wicked people do what they want with me. I was contentedly minding my business when God beat me up. He grabbed me by the neck and threw me around. He set me up as his target, then rounded up archers to shoot at me. Merciless, they shot me full of arrows; bitter bile poured from my gut to the ground. He burst in on me, onslaught after onslaught, charging me like a mad bull. “I sewed myself a shroud and wore it like a shirt; I lay facedown in the dirt. Now my face is blotched red from weeping; look at the dark shadows under my eyes, Even though I’ve never hurt a soul and my prayers are sincere! “O Earth, don’t cover up the wrong done to me! Don’t muffle my cry! There must be Someone in heaven who knows the truth about me, in highest heaven, some Attorney who can clear my name— My Champion, my Friend, while I’m weeping my eyes out before God. I appeal to the One who represents mortals before God as a neighbor stands up for a neighbor. “Only a few years are left before I set out on the road of no return.”

Then Job responded, “I have heard many things like these; Miserable comforters are you all! “Is there no end to windy words? Or what provokes you that you answer? “I too could speak like you, If only I were in your place. I could compose words against you And shake my head at you. “Or I could strengthen you with my mouth, And the condolence of my lips could lessen your pain. ¶“If I speak, my pain is not lessened, And if I refrain, what pain leaves me? “But now He has exhausted me; You have laid waste all my group of loved ones. “And You have shriveled me up, It has become a witness; And my infirmity rises up against me, It testifies to my face. “His anger has torn me and hunted me down, He has gnashed at me with His teeth; My enemy glares at me. “They have gaped at me with their mouths, They have slapped me on the cheek with contempt; They have massed themselves against me. “God hands me over to criminals, And tosses me into the hands of the wicked. “I was at ease, but He shattered me, And He has grasped me by my neck and shaken me to pieces; He has also set me up as His target. “His arrows surround me. He splits my kidneys open without mercy; He pours out my bile on the ground. “He breaks through me with breach after breach; He runs at me like a warrior. “I have sewed sackcloth over my skin, And thrust my horn in the dust. “My face is flushed from weeping, And deep darkness is on my eyelids, Although there is no violence in my hands, And my prayer is pure. ¶“Earth, do not cover my blood, And may there be no resting place for my cry. “Even now, behold, my witness is in heaven, And my advocate is on high. “My friends are my scoffers; My eye weeps to God, That one might plead for a man with God As a son of man with his neighbor! “For when a few years are past, I shall go the way of no return.

Then Job answered and said, “I have heard many such things; Wearisome and miserable comforters are you all. “Is there no end to [your futile] words of wind? Or what plagues you [so much] that you [so boldly] answer [me like this]? “I also could speak like you, If you were in my place; I could compose and join words together against you And shake my head at you. “[But instead] I could strengthen and encourage you with [the words of] my mouth, And the consolation and solace of my lips would soothe your suffering and lessen your anguish. ¶“If I speak [to you miserable comforters], my pain is not relieved; And if I refrain [from speaking], what [pain or anguish] leaves me? “But now God has exhausted me. You [O Lord] have destroyed all my family and my household. “You have taken a firm hold on me and have shriveled me up, It has become a witness [against me]; And my leanness [and infirmity] rises up [as evidence] against me, It testifies to my face [about my guilt]. “His wrath has torn me and hunted me down, He has gnashed at me with his teeth; My adversary sharpens His gaze and glares [with piercing eyes] at me. “They have gaped at me with their mouths, With contempt they have struck me on the cheek; They massed themselves together [and conspired] against me. [Ps 22:13; 35:21] “God hands me over to criminals And tosses me [headlong] into the hands of the wicked. “I was [living] at ease, but He crushed me and broke me apart, And He has seized me by the neck and has shaken me to pieces; He has also set me up as His target. “His arrows surround me. He pierces my kidneys (vital organs) without mercy; He pours out my gall on the ground. “He attacks me, making wound after wound; He runs at me like a warrior. “I have sewed sackcloth over my skin [as a sign of mourning] And have defiled my horn (symbol of strength) in the dust. “My face is red and swollen with weeping, And on my eyelids is the shadow of death [my eyes are dimmed], Although there is no violence or wrongdoing in my hands, And my prayer is pure. ¶“O earth, do not cover my blood, And let there be no [resting] place for my cry [where it will cease being heard]. “Even now, behold, my Witness is in heaven, And my Advocate [who vouches and testifies for me] is on high. [Rom 1:9] “My friends are scoffers [who ridicule]; My eye pours out tears to God. “Oh, that a man would mediate and plead with God [for me] Just as a man [mediates and pleads] with his neighbor and friend. [1 Tim 2:5] “For when a few years are past, I shall go the way of no return.

Then Job replied: “I have heard many things like these before. What miserable comforters are you all! Will there be an end to your windy words? Or what provokes you that you answer? I also could speak like you, if you were in my place; I could pile up words against you and I could shake my head at you. But I would strengthen you with my words; comfort from my lips would bring you relief. “But if I speak, my pain is not relieved, and if I refrain from speaking – how much of it goes away? Surely now he has worn me out, you have devastated my entire household. You have seized me, and it has become a witness; my leanness has risen up against me and testifies against me. His anger has torn me and persecuted me; he has gnashed at me with his teeth; my adversary locks his eyes on me. People have opened their mouths against me, they have struck my cheek in scorn; they unite together against me. God abandons me to evil men, and throws me into the hands of wicked men. I was in peace, and he has shattered me. He has seized me by the neck and crushed me. He has made me his target; his archers surround me. Without pity he pierces my kidneys and pours out my gall on the ground. He breaks through against me, time and time again; he rushes against me like a warrior. I have sewed sackcloth on my skin, and buried my horn in the dust; my face is reddened because of weeping, and on my eyelids there is a deep darkness, although there is no violence in my hands and my prayer is pure. “O earth, do not cover my blood, nor let there be a secret place for my cry. Even now my witness is in heaven; my advocate is on high. My intercessor is my friend as my eyes pour out tears to God; and he contends with God on behalf of man as a man pleads for his friend. For the years that lie ahead are few, and then I will go on the way of no return.