The Concept of Divine Justice in Hebrew Thought

by Israel Zolli

The biblical account of the cities of Sodom and Gomorrha is etiological in character. Popular tradition recalled that at one time there existed, north of the Dead Sea, flourishing cities which were subsequently devoured by fire. When the historical fact became an oft-told tale, certainly not without historical elements, people would ask: "Why did divine justice permit such a punishment to be inflicted?" The answer was that the patriarch Abraham begged the Lord to spare the threatened cities for the sake of the few just men who might be dwelling in them. The plea put into Abraham's mouth by tradition is very audacious: "Thou who judgest all the earth wilt not make this judgment."[1] If some righteous men were living there, even though in small number, could the Eternal allow them to perish along with the wicked? In the account of Sodom and Gomorrha, unlike that contained in the Book of Job,[2] there is as yet no thought of the possibility of a return to the Lord and of a consequent act of mercy on the part of God; only the plea is made that the just God could not but spare the cities, out of regard for the just. The conclusion is that good men were not to be found in Pentapolis, and that Pentapolis was destroyed because of the sins of all its inhabitants, in a way that completely vindicates the notion of divine justice: evil begets punishment. This narrative shows us how the problem of theodicy is posed and solved.

This simple, clear, absolute conception of divine justice is reflected in a number of other passages in the Bible. The dominant idea of a whole series of psalms is: "They that trust in the Lord shall be as Mount Sion: he shall not be moved forever."[3] Those who trust in the Lord[4] implore the Lord for help and protection for themselves,[5] punishment for those who wish them evil,[6] and deliverance from the hands of enemies and the wicked.[7] He who has faith in the Lord is the perfect antithesis of him who finds inspiration in vanities.[8] Lack of faith in salvation through the Lord's help rouses His anger.[9] The just enjoy the Lord's uninterrupted protection, whereas the proud are punished,[10] and the joy of the wicked passes, to give way to complete desolation.[11]

Jeremias, the prophet of prayer, curses the man that trusts in man, and blesses the man that trusts in the Lord: such a one shall be like a tree planted by the waters, ever verdant, never failing to bear fruit. The Lord is He who searches the heart, proves the reins, and gives to every man the fruit of his labor. [12] The idea expressed here agrees perfectly with the first psalm: The just man "shall be like a tree which is planted near the running water. . . . And his leaf shall not fall off. . . . Not so the wicked, not so: but like the dust which the wind driveth from the face of the earth. . . . For the Lord knoweth the way of the just: and the way of the wicked shall perish."

As we can see from the greater part of these texts, the lot of the man who trusts in the Lord appears diametrically opposed to that of the evil-doer. Hence the basic feature of Old Testament theodicy is the difference between the destiny of the just man and that of the sinner. The Lord is just: therefore the lot of the good ought to be good, and the lot of the bad ought to be bad. The good, in their turn, are they who trust in the Lord; and the people who trust in the Lord cannot but be good. The Lord is represented as an ideal judge, who gives all His support to the good and is ready to chastise the wicked severely. Few are the exceptions to this rule, which may be said to be general, of the theodicy of the Old Testament.

The problem gnawing at the soul of Israel

Yet we can easily see how life did not permit any idea of a mechanized divine justice to survive in this conception. From multitudes of good people, struck with misfortune and suffering, the wailing cry goes up: "Why is the light of happiness turned to illuminate the path trodden by the wicked?" And this "why" becomes oppressive and depressive. The centuries-old teaching is like an ancient wall in which life has opened up a breach. It is all well enough to say that the Lord gives good to the good and evil to the evil, but daily experience thrusts forward numerous examples that stand to prove the opposite. How explain this puzzling way in which the Lord acts?

The agonizing problem gnawing at the tortured soul of Israel finds particular expression in Psalm 124 (125) which, to our mind, depicts the keen longing for the reintegration of the ancient divine justice. This thought, however, does not emerge clearly from the translations and interpretations usually given for the third verse. In most of the ancient and modern translations "the scepter of the wicked" is taken to represent the pagan domination, the domination of foreign peoples that weighs on Israel; and "the heritage of the just" is the Holy Land. The Psalmist is thought to be preoccupied with the consideration that the faith of the good may be shaken if the evil tyranny long continues, or that faithless and base Israelites may make a pact with the enemy or learn to follow the iniquities of the oppressors.[13]

In our judgment, nothing of this sort is contained in Psalm 124 (125). The political note is not there at all. The sacred song is poured out by a pious soul that knows and feels the problem of the Old Testament theodicy. The preoccupation weighing on his heart has nothing to do with the political events of the day, with events that are seen in their perspective at a particular period of Israel's life and that pass away. The singer's soul is turned toward the eternal, insoluble problem of divine justice. The misunderstanding of the texts clearly comes from the meaning which all the exegetes and lexicographers assign to the word shehhet in verse 3. . . . Here it has precisely the meaning of comet; not, however, in the literal sense of a heavenly body, but in the sense often ascribed to such a body, namely that of lot or fortune.[14]

Hence the idea expressed in Psalm 124 (125):3 would be the following: the lot of the wicked will not coincide with that of the just, and therefore the just should not stretch forth their hands to iniquity. If the lot of the wicked is equal to that of the just, the faith which the latter have in justice may be shaken, and they can ask: "Why is the path of the wicked lighted up with happiness?" They can feel the sinner's happiness like a dagger piercing their hearts, from which faith in the divine justice, love of good, and hope of a just recompense for their deeds seep away little by little, and in which slowly, almost inadvertently, an inclination to follow the way of the wicked infiltrates.

The poet is born to a new faith

The singer of Psalm 72 (73) also suffers at the sight of the happiness won by the wicked, those evil men who grow fat, who rejoice without ceasing, who in their pride look down on all, who oppress all men, saying: "How doth God know? And is there knowledge in the Most High?" The seed of envy has already penetrated his heart, he is on the point of abandoning the path of virtue. But at the moment of bitterest inner conflict he enters the sacred halls of God, and there at length understands the future lot of the wicked; he understands that their fortune is passing away and that they will be destroyed by the Lord. There, too, the sacred flame of faith is rekindled in him, he learns to desire nothing but union with the Lord; his love for God becomes a burning overpowering passion, and he cries out: "For Thee my flesh and my heart hath fainted away: Thou art the God of my heart and the God that is my portion forever. For behold they that go far from Thee shall perish." (verses 26-7) The sacred poet is happy: the nearness of God makes him happy. The peace reigning in the sanctuary mounts up in his soul, pours into him, gives him calmness, tranquility, confidence. In his heart every doubt vanishes, every torment ceases. There, within the walls of the sanctuary, the poet is born to a new faith, a staunch faith that will never again waver at the sight of the happiness of the wicked.

But the psychological process which the sacred singer experienced within the sacred walls is not a phenomenon that manifests itself in all, nor does it occur often. Perhaps Psalm 72 (73) is the only one we have which gives us such a vivid account of a soul that is afflicted, oppressed, shaken in faith and reborn to faith, of a soul that descended to the abyss and ascended again in search of the heavenly Father. The masses easily allows themselves to be overcome by distrust and discouragement, and lack the energy to fight and conquer.

Why be good?

For this reason the anxiety of the poet of Psalm 124 (125) is well founded. And he insists on the problem of divine justice: God will not permit the lot of the wicked to coincide with that of the just. If the two lots are to fuse, the good men who suffer oppression could one day say: "But then, why be good? Why follow the ways and the commandments of the Lord? Where is there a reward of the good? Where is the punishment reserved for the wicked? Is not life in clashing contrast with divine justice, with the doctrine of divine justice handed down to us by our fathers? We see that the wicked live a happy, honored life, while the just, the good, undergo humiliations of every kind. So, then, it is a vain thing to serve the Lord."

And actually the people came to precisely such conclusions. In Malachias 2:17 the prophet rebukes the masses for saying: "Every one that doth evil is good in the sight of the Lord, and such please Him. . . . Where is the God of judgment?" And in 3:14 the Lord, through the prophet's mouth, complains of the harsh words uttered by the masses: "You have said: He laboreth in vain that serveth God, and what profit is it that we have kept His ordinances, and that we have walked sorrowful before the Lord of hosts?" [15] From the rest of the discourse we learn that the people regard as happy those who work evil, the wicked who have distrusted God and nevertheless remain safe. Ecclesiastes also asks what is the good of the wise man's wisdom and what loss is suffered by the sinner's wickedness: as the one dies, so does the other.

This is why the sacred singer, in Psalm 124 (125), after saying that the Lord surrounds with His protection all who trust in Him, asserts that God will never allow the lot of the sinner to merge with that of the just man, as otherwise the just would readily stretch their hands out to iniquity and would be tempted to give themselves to evil. And in grieving accents the Psalmist prays to the Lord: "Do good to those that are good and to the upright of heart, and let the lot of those that walk by circuitous routes merge with the lot of those that work iniquity." In a certain way, the fear of God among the multitudes will be promoted if the Lord, in assigning to men their portions, will bring to fulfillment the ancient formula: good to the good and evil to the evil. The Psalmist still hopes to obtain by his prayer that the Lord satisfy the desire of masses, and that He will show Himself to be that ideal judge dreamed of by the people.

Does man's inferiority solve the problem of divine justice?

In a more solemn and, we may say, more dramatic form, the subject of biblical theodicy is summarized in the Book of Job.

The Book of Job deals with the following concepts. God is the almighty Creator of the universe, and consequently also of man. Therefore man must have fear of God, he must be "God-fearing," he must avoid evil. One's fear of God is made known according to a most rigid pattern of social justice. Nature causes men to be born and to die according to certain rules that are invariably the same, and hence everyone has the duty of treating others with a cordially human sympathy.

Fear of God is expressed by a profound reverence for God. As man may have failed, even though unconsciously, in reverence toward God, he has the obligation of offering sacrifices to God or of redeeming his own person by some other adequate means. Thus justice requires. God also is just, and therefore, as Creator of man and Custodian of man's fortunes. He will reward the good and punish the wicked.

Were God to reverse the roles and assign a prosperous life to the wicked and sufferings to the good, He would be unjust. A man who has acted unjustly can be haled before a judge. But can God? And if God were to appear before the mistreated just man who calls on Him, what could He, the Almighty, say to the man who, like a blade of grass, grows up in the morning and withers away in the evening? God would say to him: "Yes, suffering man, you are right, you are just: because in the midst of grievously bitter sufferings you have called on Me, and on Me alone. You have bewailed your lot with great sincerity; even in the midst of indescribable woes, you have kept your fear of Me. I, the almighty Creator, will heal your wounds, and life shall again spring up around you."

If we prescind from every narrative element, from every artistic embellishment, and from all philosophical speculation, we may say that the storehouse of ideas in the Book of Job is such as we have briefly outlined.

But now a question arises. In the eyes of mortal man, of that weak being endowed with an intelligence that is ever limited in spite of its power, has God acted justly? And does the recognition of man's inferiority before the Lord of the universe succeed in solving the problem of divine justice?

The great "why" remains

During the prolonged conversations. Job's friends lodge accusations against the great sufferer because the starting point of their reasoning is the ancient biblical conception of divine justice: "He who sins, suffers; he who suffers, has sinned." To their minds, therefore. Job suffers because he has sinned. For his part Job affirms, in the midst of most acute sufferings, that he is innocent. And still in the midst of most acute sufferings, he exclaims: "Even if God kills me, I hope in Him." Job's meaning seems to be: "I suffer, trusting in Thee; and Thou, Lord, hast abandoned me." At the end, God sides with the just Job, and pardon's the latter's accusers, his so-called "friends," only through the intercession of Job himself.

But with all this, have the sufferings of the martyr been justified? No. From the human point of view, Job alone is just: Job who blesses the Lord even after the most atrocious blows have been rained on him, Job who stretches out his numbed and wounded arms to receive ever new sufferings from God's hand, who is ready to suffer provided God will show Himself to be a just God, and who, not wishing to be condemned in contumacy, as we should say today, asks only to be shown by God the list of faults committed, the "why" of his suffering. The book draws to a close and ends; but the great "why" remains like a burning, bleeding wound, never healing up.

This is the deep tragedy narrated in the biblical book of Job and in the great book of life.

Satan's intrigues[16] are not an answer to the problem of divine justice. The "prologue in heaven," according to Goethe's correct interpretation, is but a literary expedient.

The "Servant of God" in Isaias presents the great "why"

Has the great, tremendous "why" of sufferings of God's just servant never been further investigated? Has the restless mind of Israel been content with the glory of having raised the problem without ever turning back to the subject? Was the aim merely to carve the figure of a biblical Laocoon as an artistic expression of supreme suffering, or does Job represent a religious problem, that is, a problem that is at once human and divine? Has no reply been given to the question, or even, has no reply been attempted?

At first sight, it seems we ought to answer all these questions with a "No." Certain psalms, written in the spirit of the Book of Job, do no more than repeat particular motives drawn from the book itself. Jeremias also, in some pages of unsurpassable beauty, inquires into the reason for his suffering, but his reflections are mostly a releasing of his tortured feelings. The prophet certainly has no intention of treating the grave problem of divine justice. Yet we believe that the enigma, although not solved, because it is incapable of solution by mere reasoning, comes up for consideration again in the history of man. Where? When? In the mission, in the teaching, in the passion of Jesus Christ, presented in the guise of the Servant of God in the Book of Isaias.

Who is the "Servant of God" in Isaias? The figure as exhibited to us in the various poems of the Book of Isaias is not monolithic, and therefore is open to a great variety of interpretations.

Gressmann finds in the chapters treating of the Servant an echo of the lamentations for King Josias, who fell fighting valiantly in the war against the Egyptian king, Neco. But neither the historical figure of King Josias nor that of King Ezechias discloses anything that could call to mind the Servant. Again, we are not convinced by the opinion of certain authors who see in the Servant the prophet himself: for in general the prophets when speaking of the humiliations and outrages they are subjected to, speak in the first person and in a clear manner. Rabbinic tradition, with which Origen is also associated, sees in the Servant the figure of the derided and scorned people of Israel. For Lods, likewise, the Servant personifies the pathetic idea of the martyr nation, suffering for the good of the world.[17]

Nevertheless the supposition is quite unsound, for a number of reasons, among them the fact that in the Servant a glimpse is caught, through the community (Israel) of a particular individual, who is either historical or eschatological. When we read in Isaias 44:21 f., "Remember these things, O Jacob and Israel, for thou art My servant. I have formed thee. . . .forget Me not. . . . Return to Me, for I have redeemed thee," we have to declare openly that the servant of God is the people of Israel. But how can Isaias 45:9f. refer to the people? "Woe to him that gainsayeth his Maker, a sherd of the earthen pots. Woe to him that saith to his father: Why begettest thou?" Isaias 49:7 is a splendid representation of the people as servant of God: "Thus saith the Lord, the redeemer of Israel, His Holy One, to the soul that is despised, to the nation that is abhorred, to the servant of rulers: Kings shall see, and princes shall rise up and adore for the Lord's sake, because He is faithful, and for the Holy One of Israel, who hath chosen thee."

The derided, the wounded one, who is he?

But the deeply moving description in Isaias 50:4-10 delineates a noble and heroic individual, his head adorned with the crown of martyrdom: "The Lord hath given me a learned tongue, that I should know how to uphold by word him that is weary. . . . The Lord God hath opened my ear, and I do not resist: I have not gone back. I have given my body to the strikers, and my cheeks to them that plucked them: I have not turned away my face from them that rebuked me and spit upon me. The Lord God is my helper, therefore am I not confounded: therefore have I set my face as a most hard rock, and I know that I shall not be confounded. He is near that justifieth me, who will contend with me? Let us stand together, who is my adversary? Let him come near to me. Behold the Lord God is my helper: who is he that shall condemn me? Lo, they shall all be destroyed as a garment, the moth shall eat them up. Who is there among you that feareth the Lord, that heareth the voice of His servant, that hath walked in darkness, and hath no light? Let him hope in the name of the Lord, and lean upon his God."

Isaias, chapter 53, mentions the 'ish makk'obhoth, the man of sorrows, and it is the community of Israel that says about him, the individual person, the hero: "But he was wounded for our iniquities, he was bruised by our sins; the chastisement of our peace was upon him, and by his bruises we are healed."

The speaker is the community of Israel. But he, the derided, the wounded one, who has known how to shoulder and carry the burden of the sins of all — who is he?

Moment of divine self-revelation

When the figure of the Servant is compared with that of Job, similarities and dissimilarities emerge at the same time. Once the figure of Job, the great sufferer, the figure born in the meditative Semitic soul, had entered into Israel's spirituality, it remained there forever. Every era in the history of Israel saw Job in the light of its own time. According to Talmudic tradition, some thought he lived during the age of the patriarchs, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob; others thought he was born in the years in which Israel went down to Egypt, and died during the period of the exile; some held that he was a contemporary of Moses; others, that he lived at the time of the Judges, or of David, or of Solomon, or of Assuerus; others regard him as one of the repatriates returning from the Babylonian exile.

In his own ancient homeland Job was considered to be an 'oyebh, that is, a man who grieves at being treated by God like an enemy, or an 'ayyabh, a man converted to God. The biblical Job has more fear of God than love of God. He himself speaks frequently of fear of the Almighty, and never alludes to the fundamental idea of the Torah: "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with thy whole strength." The Torah says, "Thou shalt fear the Lord" only when enacting laws; the relation between man and God is generally characterized by love.

But not for Job. Job does not even beg for divine pardon. He appeals only to divine justice. He says: "Thou art so powerful (not 'merciful') and Thou dost engage in persecuting me, who am so weak. Even had I sinned, what harm would I have done to Thee, who art infinitely great?" He discerns God in nature, and turns toward Him to inquire into the reason for the sufferings of the innocent. "There, in nature," says Job, "I see Thee, Lord, but where is Thy justice? Explain to me Thy workings as Master of man's lot."

The biblical Job has not embraced God in a transport of love, at a moment of mystical rapture, at a moment, that is, of divine self-revelation, when man is oblivious of himself and disengages himself from all that is of earth to merge with God in a single unity. Job remains apart and says: "Here are my works, O Lord, and here are my woes. And Thy justice, where is it?"

The evil overwhelming him is too terrible. He, iyyobh, the man devoted to God, the just and pious man, the defender of widows and orphans, helper of all the weak, the honored and honorable father of a family, and the scrupulous observer of sacrificial rites, is struck down by repulsive diseases as though he were an 'oyebh, an enemy and blasphemer of God, a transgressor of ritual precepts. Such a reversal of lots could not fail to disquiet the religious conscience of Job and his friends. This is the incentive for the deep and vivacious discussion about divine justice. The idea of applying tests to ascertain whether a particular man is really struck by God is widely diffused throughout biblical and post-biblical literature; but rarely has it given rise to a work of art — of art rather than of faith — of such great merit.

In spite of tremendous differences, the Servant of God in Isaias undoubtedly calls to mind, in some points, the figure of Job. There are even certain stylistic resemblances. The two personalities are similar, but at the same time immensely dissimilar.

The Servant is unique

Both are true friends of the weak, and strenuous upholders of justice. In Isaias 42:1-4 we read: "Behold My servant. . . he shall bring forth judgment to the nations.. . .The bruised reed he shall not break. . . He shall not be sad nor troublesome till he set judgment in the earth." Job recalls: "I had delivered the poor man that cried out, and the fatherless that had no helper. The blessing of him that was ready to perish came upon me, and I comforted the heart of the widow. I was clad with justice, and I clothed myself with my judgment as with a robe and a diadem. I was an eye to the blind and a foot to the lame. I was the father of the poor, and the cause which I knew not I searched out most diligently. I broke the jaws of the wicked man, and out of his teeth I took away the prey" (Job 29:12-17). Both are sorrowful, broken by disease, humiliated, derided, and in spite of all, trustful.

But Job, when he is mocked, recalls with all the louder lamentation the time when even princes became silent when he appeared and awaited his advice, whereas the Servant of God does not complain of anything.

The great prestige that is past for Job, still awaits the Servant, and his triumph is yet to come. Job turns back to his ancient glory; with regret for the past he pleads, in a way, for its return. The Servant of God, will, indeed, one day receive the homage of sovereigns and princes, but he asks for nothing but suffering. Job wails that he is covered with the spittle of base men and with degrading blows; the Servant of God voluntarily submits to the same contempt.

He is the sheep that is silent before the shearers and he does "not open his mouth"; he suffered and "he opened not his mouth." But Job "opened his mouth and cursed his day." He is not able to keep his mouth closed; he cries out with a loud voice that for him there is no justice. Job gives vent, in impassioned outpourings, to his anguish at being subjected to such sufferings; the Servant of God remains silent.

He sanctifies pain with silence and refuses to speak. But if he were to speak he would certainly say something similar to what we read in Matthew 5:39f.: "I say to you not to resist evil; but if one strike thee on thy right cheek, turn to him also the other; and if a man will contend with thee in judgment and take away thy coat, let go thy cloak also unto him."

Job sees in the Lord his great adversary in his terrible conflict with God Himself; the Servant sees in God, who has laid on him the burden of suffering for others, his powerful aid and his great protector against opponents.

Job was "simple and upright and fearing God" in the spirit of Ezechiel, that is, for his own salvation; the Servant of God is pure and great and suffering to cleanse others of their sins. His will is made identical with that of God. Thus the divine work is fully justified. Equilibrium is restored.

Job does not wish to suffer; he suffers because he cannot escape his sufferings. He is a victim by necessity. The Servant of God, who is Jesus Christ, suffers because He wishes to suffer in order to blot out the sins of others. Job submits to a destiny. The Servant of God, our Lord Jesus Christ, undertakes the act of a voluntary, expiatory sacrifice. And in Him it is God who offers Himself and suffers.

ENDNOTES

1 Gen. 18:25.

2 Cf. Zolli, Israel, pp. 289-300.

3 Ps. 124 (125):1.

4 The "man who trusts in the Lord" forms a parallel with hasid, pious man.

5 Ps. 85:2,6.

6 Ps. 39:15.

7 Ps. 21 and 70.

8 Ps. 30:7; 36:2f.

9 Ps. 77:21 ff.

10 Ps. 30:24.

11 Ps. 54:24; Ps. 55.

12 Jer. 17:5-10.

13 The various translations and interpretations are discussed in my article, "II significato di shebhet nel Salmo CXXV," Atti del XIX Congresso internazionale degli Orientalisti (Roma, 1938).

14 The term mazzal, which originally meant solar station, a sign of the zodiac, likewise ended up by signifying lot, fortune.

15 According to Durr, this order of ideas is reflected in Psalm 4: see Biblica, XVI (1935), 330-38.

16 In Zach 3:1-3, the high priest, Jesus, in consequence of Satan's attacks, comes forward as a sinner in penitential garb.

17 Les prophetes d'lsrael et les debuts du judaisme, p. 278.

From The Nazarene by Eugenio Zolli (translated by Cyril Vottert, SJ. 1948): reprinted here with permission. This book is currently out of print: we hope to have copies available by the end of 1998.

Taken from the Journal Hear O, Israel!. Produced by Catholic Israelites in the Holy Land of Kentucky: Mark Drogin, editor, 3050 Gap Knob Road, New Hope, KY 40052

This item 754 digitally provided courtesy of CatholicCulture.org