Now my days are swifter than a runner: they flee away, they see no good.
All Commentaries on Job 9:25 Go To Job 9
Gregory The Dialogist
AD 604
50. For as we have already said, the first man was so created that by the accessions of time his life could only be extended, but not spun to an end; but because by his own act and deed he fell into sin, in that he touched that which was forbidden, he was made subject to a transitory career, which man now, oppressed by fondness for the present life, both undergoes and longs for without ceasing. For, that he may not come to an end, he longs to live on, yet by the accessions to life, he is daily advancing to his end, nor does he well discover the added portions of time, what nothings they are, when those things are done and over in a moment which seemed to be long in coming. Let the holy man then view the grounds of his position, and in the voice of mankind bewail the woes of a transitory career, saying, Now my days have been swifter than a post; they are fled away, they have seen no good. As if it were in plain words, ‘Man was created for this end, that he might see good,’ which is God; but because he would not stand in the light, in flying therefrom he lost his eyes; for in the same degree that by sin he began to let himself run out to things below, he subjected himself to blindness, that he should not see the interior light.’ And of those days it is further added with fitness, They are passed away as the ships carrying fruits. For ships, when they ‘carry fruits,’ convey the produce of the land through the waves. Now the land of man was Paradise, which might have kept him unshaken, if by force of innocency he could have stood fast, but, because by sin he fell into the waves of a changeful state, after the land he came into the seas of the present life. Furthermore the fruits of the land were the word of commandment, the power of good works vouchsafed him, the perception of his Creator implanted in his nature. But these fruits, which we refused to eat on the land, we carry through the seas, in that we would not keep unmoved in Paradise the blessings of so many benefits vouchsafed to us, and now we endeavour to preserve them in the midst of temptations. Hasting to our bourn, we are driven forward by the breath of the present life, we are worn out with the tossing of our mutable condition. But whereas by the mystery of the Cross we are made fast to the good gifts implanted in our nature, it is as if we carried fruits by means of wood. And yet this may also be understood in another sense. For ships that carry fruits have sweetness of smell, but have no gravity of weight; and man, when he became an outcast from the joys of Paradise, lost the power of contemplation, and parted with the vigour of his native strength; and when he lifts up himself to seek anew the things above, he is sweetened indeed by the perfume of the memory, but yields no weight of life in meet proportion. Thus he is filled with the odours of fruits, and yet the vessel of our soul is lightly driven hither and thither without steadiness, in that we both call to mind the high state of Paradise with a remembrance of a sweet smell, and are subject to the troublesome waves of temptation arising from the flesh. Hence it is fitly subjoined, As the eagle that hasteth to the prey. For the eagle is suspended in an exceeding lofty flight, and poised in swift speeding skywards, but from the hunger of the belly, he seeks the ground, and suddenly plunges himself downward from on high. Thus, thus the race of man in our first parent fell from on high deep down below, whereas the dignity of its state by creation had hung it aloft in the high region of reason as in the freedom of the skies: but because, contrary to the commandment, he touched the forbidden fruit, he descended to the earth, through the lust of the belly; and it is as if he fed upon flesh after flying, for that he lost those free inhalings of contemplation, and now solaces himself with corporeal delights below. Thus ‘as the eagle that hasteth to the prey,’ our days pass swiftly by; for in proportion as we seek things below, we are hindered from maintaining ourselves in life.
51. But when we revolve such things in our mind by continual reflection, we are silently pressed with the hard questions, why did Almighty God create one, who He foresaw would perish? Why was He, Who is chief in power and chief in goodness, not so minded as to make man such that he could not perish? But when the mind silently asks these questions, it fears lest, by its very audacity in questioning thus, it should break out into pride, and holds itself in with humility, and restrains the thoughts of the heart. But it is the more distressed, that amid the ills that it suffers it is over and above tormented concerning the secret meaning of its condition. Hence here too it is fitly added; If I shall say, I will never speak thus; I change my countenance, and am tormented with grief. For we say, that ‘we never ought to speak thus,’ when transgressing the limit of our frail nature in pushing our enquiries, we reproach ourselves in dread, and are withheld by bethinking ourselves of heavenly awe, in which same withholding, the face of our mind is altered, in that the mind, which in the first instance, failing to comprehend them, boldly investigated things above, afterwards, finding out its own infirmity, begins to entertain awe for what it is ignorant of. But in this very change there is pain, for the mind is very greatly afflicted that, in recompense of the first sin, she is blinded to the understanding of things touching her own self. All that she undergoes she sees to be just. She dreads lest in her pain she be guilty of excess from liberty of speech, she imposes silence on the lips, but the awakened grief is increased by the very act by which it is restrained. Let him say then; If I shall say, I will never speak thus; I change my countenance, and am tormented with grief. For we are then for the most part most grievously afflicted, when, as it were by a studied endeavour after consolation, we try to lighten to ourselves the ills of our afflicted condition; but whoever once considers with minute attention the ills of man propagated by the condemnation of our first parent, it follows that he must be afraid to add his own deeds thereto.
