Images of Violence in the Horse in Job 39:18–25

Images of Violence in the Horse in Job 39:18–25Author(s): DAVID ODELLSource: Prooftexts, Vol. 13, No. 2 (MAY 1993), pp. 163-173Published by: Indiana University PressStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/20689362 .

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NOTES AND READINGS

Images of Violence in the Horse in Job 39:18-25

The significance of the nature poetry in the Whirlwind in Job can only partly be accounted for if chapters 38-41 alone are evaluated. In its different mode of nature-centeredness, the theophany requires contextual hindsight in the same

way that the miscarriage of justice in the first two chapters demands that the reader turn, searching, to chapter three and beyond. This paper attempts to

suggest possibilities for incorporating some of the textual images of the horse, that much neglected member of the zoological group in the Whirlwind, into the larger theme of undeserved violence and suffering in Job. The equestrian passage seems to establish a clear reference to the problem of violence, likely one of the more

pressing issues giving rise to the Book of Job itself. Such images are widespread; Job is a victim of force and describes his predicament in pictures closely related to those of war, individual combat, and incarceration. Military terminology abounds.

Violence in Job, however, is not limited to the human theater, however closely one might be inclined to associate the term with the experiences attributed to the main character. The sources, victims, and poetic images of aggression in Job are also found in nature. This is not surprising, given the "organic" (von Rad) sense of connectedness between the human and nonhuman realms that we find in much of biblical literature. Our chief concern in this nature imagery, the war horse, appears in its immediate context with two other creatures, also representing different forms of aggression. The ostrich (39:13-18), reflecting proverbial tradition or poetic opinion or license, is neglectful of her expected maternal sense; she leaves her

eggs unattended on the open ground, where she seems to ignore matters of incubation and protection from humans and animals. The locust (39:20) is a tiny creature, which in great numbers does violence on a scale far worse than lions,

hippopotamuses or crocodiles.1 In both creatures, we find causes of physical harm and suffering that seem to contradict all attempts of reasoned minds to under stand them. The damage or suffering is unrelated to the simple task of survival and therefore an unnecessary evil. These creatures reflect, in essence, one aspect of Job's situation, too, for the violence of which he is a victim is not only unnecessary, but it is also incommensurate with any possible personal deficiencies in need of correction. His is a very basic and serious protest; he argues not to maintain his

style of life, but life itself. In the literature, we find varying assessments of the significance of the Joban

horse. In a widespread view, the qualities of courage, strength, and the very commanding nature in the middle of a scene of violence emerge as predominant, and the horse is considered in a darkly affirmative way as controlling subject.

PROOFTEXTS13 (1993): 163-173 ? 1993 by The Johns Hopkins University Press



164 NOTES AND READINGS

Others suggest that the animal be seen at least in part as victim of the same nature and the same violence, and we are led to approach its assessment and thus the violence represented by the animal in a more cautious and critical way. I shall

suggest the latter point of view. The horse first enters the text at the end of the ostrich section in verse 18, prior

to the explicit beginning of the equestrian section in 39:19. Both are prey animals in the wild, not predators; they are primarily (in the case of the horse, exclusively) dependent on plants, not other animals, for food. Flight is their most basic form of

defense, but they are both able to deliver very dangerous kicking blows if cornered. In the present text the horse is apparently, and with aggressive intent,

chasing an ostrich. We can assume that no one reading or listening to the Joban poet would have ever witnessed such.2 The encounter is, however, instigated by a

rkhv, a "rider" (39:18), and the apparent occasion is a hunt. The appearance of the first human actor among the theophanic animals3 introduces armed violence into the theophany and at the same time poses a limit to the success of the endeavor

(the rider is an additional burden for the horse). This hunt possibly represents a continuation and heightening of an earlier

Whirlwind theme of distance from, or contamination by, humans:

38:25-27 God sends rain in the desert in which no men live.

39:5-7 The wild ass and onager lead a life apart from the noise of the city.

39:9-12 The wild ox cannot be tamed to serve man.

39:15 A person could tread on and destroy the eggs of the mother ostrich.

There are certain tendencies noticeable here. The relationship of the observer to nature has become more concrete: it begins with the distant desert devoid of

humans; then the wild ass is mentioned, and a city, which the animal avoids, appears in the background; now, up close, man would lay hands on the ox, and

possible forms of restraint and usefulness are mentioned. Next, the ostrich

appears, likewise wild and representative of animals living in places far from human habitations.4 We are now so close as to see the eggs, covered or partially covered by the desert sand. The poet thus proceeds from general statements (the independent spirit of the wild ox) to more detailed observations about the ani

mal's family behavior and casts judgment, as if the mother ostrich were human. Then an attempt is made to catch the bird with the horse (for sport or to obtain its decorative feathers), and again the theme of human appropriation occurs. Human violence is added to the original natural, violent order (violence is also possible by other animals, 39:15b). One would properly maintain that in the horse passage we have the most intense form of this theme of violence in nature up to this point. From a different perspective the continuum represents increasing human influ ence, with all the consequences thus entailed (cf. also the provocative human

imagery 38:13-15,28-31,35). The relationship between horse and ostrich is usually interpreted by commentators (e.g., Fohrer, Rowley, Pope, Driver/Gray) as demon

strating the greater speed of the ostrich in her flight from the horse, and many ancient and contemporary sources show that the ostrich, indeed, is faster. The ostrich and the horse alone, however, are not the basis of comparison; rather, the



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pairing of the horse with the rkhv appears to be the real concern of the passage, and thus the special kind of violence that man brings to the scene before us.

This violence is in vain. The ostrich laughs at or "scorns" the horse and its rider. It is possibly a sobering, self-critical statement on God's creation that the ostrich, for her part, is better able to deal with violence from without, than with the quiet, self-inflicted violence from within. At the same time, the ostrich dis

patches this violence from without in a manner that clearly suggests criticism of the even more dramatic form of aggression represented by the horse and rider. The observation on the lack of wisdom in the ostrich is critical of the ostrich, but it also serves to heighten the criticism of the hapless rkhv.

Having failed in pursuit of the carefree ostrich, the horse mysteriously, quickly, and without transition turns, in war, from hunting to a more intense form of predation, one in which the human element, tragically, plays an even greater role. This rkhv seems to ride from the hunt directly into battle. There, however, the horse is most frequently used to pull a rkhv (in its other meaning as "chariot"), not to bear it, as it would a "rider." The transition from 39:18 to 39:19 is confusing.5 Because of the uncertainty surrounding the rkhv, the horse's function in battle and in the text is also unclear. The confusion here seems to underscore that in entering the battle, the horse has completely lost any definition it may have had as part of its natural environment. We do not know how the horse came to be there, nor

what its purpose there is. This represents a marked change from the very natural sense of at-homeness and purpose surrounding the lion and raven (family, food 38:39; cf. 4:10 f.; Amos 3:4), the mountain goats (gestation, birth 39:1-4), wild ass and onager (their natural environment), and the wild ox (whose nature clearly resists human service). The animals are needful, but evidently getting along

without man or even in spite of him. The horse, on the other hand, is supposed to be in man's service, but is doing nothing that benefits man. On the contrary, in

being possessed by something uniquely human, war, it is participating obliquely in the breakdown of human life.

Even if a certain meaning of rkhv could be determined and the horse's function clearly assigned, a plausible reason for the change of scene from hunt/ chase to war must be found. The answer seems to lie in the escalation of aggres sion thereby entailed. The horse appears to be the aggressor throughout the

passage, but consonant with the development in the animal imagery up to this

point, the level of aggression here has dramatically increased. The general warring activity is less directed than the ostrich chase (where the bird seems to have been the intended victim) and this further adds to the lack of definition just noted. The human element as such also drops out altogether and is completely absorbed by the horse; the role of the human (as driver, as rider) becomes, quite literally, immaterial, and its violence is completely internalized. The swiftness with which this transition proceeds in the text emphasizes the irrelevance of the human body; the human values have already, as it were, taken over another body.

The depiction of the war horse makes it seem very isolated, in particular from the practical side of the battle that normally determines its function there. It is a

singular horse (in the biblical writings horses are commonly mentioned in a collective sense) and other horses with which it would be harnessed together are not depicted. If there is a rider or driver, that is no longer mentioned. Fighters pictured in immediate military service with the horse and chariot are also




nowhere to be found in the text.6 Enemies are not named. Identifiable heroes or numbers of the slain, otherwise so central to the depiction of biblical battle scenes, are likewise absent.

The physical description of the horse offers three possible cues to its meaning in the text: it is a male horse,7 and the neck, used as an image of will or strength elsewhere in Job and frequently among the prophets, is clothed with a "mane" (in a common rendering),8 a word derived from another for "thunder." AU of this

imagery for power?maleness, neck, and mane/thunder?is condensed into one

verse, 39:19, supplementing there the word for "strength" (39:19a). At first gjance, therefore, the depiction of the horse is entirely concerned with those traits repre senting power and strength. Even by the end of the passage, however, we have no idea about the horse's further identity and to which end its power and strength are being used, whether in the service of good or evil. There are no indications of means of steering or control here (bridle, whip), terms used elsewhere in Job or

biblically, although not frequently. The horse is depicted as acting on its own accord and independent of any human influence.

The horse's actions betray a condition of heightened excitement and also

confusion, perhaps symptomatic of its lonely, isolated state: the horse "quivers" or "trembles" (39:20a9 and 39:24), (nervously) paws the ground, runs head-on into armor (39:21), and "devours" the ground (39:24a). The horse is full of energy, but never puts it to constructive use. Nowhere is a sign that the horse is actually fighting the battle, that it is contributing in any way to military goals.

The horse, in a sense, is not really described from without, but from within. We know much more about the poet's creation of its feelings than of its appear ance or actions. There are signs of inside energy in the horse's quivering (39:20), its

trembling (39:24), and its forceful and vigorous charging movements (39:21). Attitudinal elements are also conveyed: the animal laughs at fear (39:22), does not flinch at the sword (39:22),10 and does not respond to the sound of the horn

(39:24). The animal seems so violent inside because it is oblivious to all signs of violence outside. Or, because its violence is self-contained, recognition of outside force is unnecessary. The Joban poet is writing from the middle of violence, writing about violence motivated and experienced from vvithin. It is not the

sweeping visual motion of the storyteller that we find here, but rather the com

plete separation from the landscape or external world that normally carries a

story, a drop into the depths of evil underlying, but also beyond every form of narrative expression.

Not only is the horse passage almost devoid of optical support, but in its

place, as it were, the text is filled by sound. The horse is not the first animal in the

theophany to emit a sound, but the only one to be full of, and surrounded by, noise. These noises completely fill the passage; they are loud, threatening, fright ening, and chaotic. The text is reminiscent of Jeremiah's words of prophecy against the Philistines, with its strong emphasis on the audible:

At the clatter of the stamping hoofs of his stallions, At the noise of his chariots, The rumbling of their wheels (Jer. 47:3)

The prophet Nahum spoke with a similar appeal to the senses in a military context to create this frightening effect:



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Crack of whip And rattle of wheel,

Galloping steed And bounding chariot!

Charging horsemen,

Flashing swords, And glittering spears! (Nah. 3:2 f.)11

Noises in the present passage are heard, but also created by, the horse. They are

perhaps an echo of the heavenly storm all around Job, perhaps of the fighting as well. Certainly the noises "play" textually with the idea that, whereas the onager (39:7) avoids and in so doing "criticizes" the noise of the city, the horse is here in the middle of noise created by that most human of activities, war, and adding noises of its own. The horse "snorts" powerfully and terribly (39:20b). It exults in its strength (39:21), conjuring up audible signs of contentment in the horse such as

whinnying; similarly, it "laughs" at fear (39:22a).12 The horse "quakes" or "rumbles" across the earth (39:24),13 a likely reference to the deafening noise and

powerful vibrations created by horse hooves. The horse then "speaks," reminis cent of the wise snake in Gen. 3:1-5 and Balaam's talking ass in Num. 22:28-30, but

here, in Job, the single word spoken is neither prophetic nor even understand able.14 The human mass assumed to be in the passage contributes nothing to the

direction, but much to the cacophony of the scene: the "roaring" or "shouting" men15 and the sound of battle in 39:2516?of human origin, of distress, of pain, or of celebration, we are unsure (cf. Ezra 3:13). These equestrian and human sounds are accompanied by sounds of weaponry, not as a dramatic clashing of iron, but as the empty, useless clatter of a container holding weapons that are not being used, as a "rattling" quiver in 39:23 (the most important weapon of the charioteer, the

bow, is thus mentioned only indirectly). All of this presents more sound and increases the distraction and confusion, which is further heightened by the "flash

ing" or glare of the spear and lance. (The sword is silent, but also apparently has no effect on the horse in 39:22.) It is not clear to whom the weapons belong, whether to forces friendly or opposed to the horse.

There is the frightening sound of the horn (39:24), a rousing and fearful instrument of war (cf. Jer. 4:19), giving the most directed sound and the only directive from a military standpoint. The horse, however, does not seem to be

responding in kind. The animal does not heed or "believe" the signal function of the shofar in some sense. The relationship to the human is strained. The shofar is a

man-made sound emitted through the body of a ram, reflecting the strange mixture of animal and human that the horse, too, embodies, and the violence that issues from that mixture. Possibly the horse anticipates running, and the shofar

signal to advance simply provides the occasion for doing just that (and perhaps somewhat prematurely so), or it does not heed the signal to retreat and continues on, thus resisting the command of the warriors, its supposed superiors (alluding possibly to another biblical criticism of the horse, that it must be "restrained"; cf. Ps. 32:9). If, however, we assume that the horn is sounded by the opposing forces, the horse's reaction or lack thereof does not make the situation any clearer.

Resisting or being oblivious to such a sound makes it difficult simply to assume

the heroic flourish so often interpreted into the very next verse when the




shofar again sounds, for why should the horse, after resisting the shofar, now

respond to it? The JPS renders verse 25: "As the trumpet sounds, he says 'Aha!' / From afar

he smells the battle." Curiously, the horse was already supposed to be in the midst of the fray, hard upon the sword (39:21 f.). In what manner it is now "sensing" the battle is therefore unclear. The descriptive sequence is even without demanding narrative cohesion and at best is strongly anticlimactic and clearly disjointed. We would expect the signal of the shofar to initiate some kind of action; if to advance, it comes too late in the text; if to retreat, why is the fighting so far away (39:25)? The cries that normally open the battle17 are found in this very last verse (39:25). It is thus unclear whether the horse is surrounded by battle action, attempting to break into it, or now only nervously observing the engagement from a distance.

Perhaps it is all of these. There is intense presence, yet the feeling of rational connectedness, of well-defined participation, is missing.

This confusion of battle sound is not just generalized "war noise," but rather stands in relation to an individual creature. Without direction, without a spatially fixed source, it is very disturbing. Loud sound creates fear; it is also a sign of confusion. When such sound, as here, is unrelated to specified goals or meaning ful behavior, the resulting disorientation is great indeed.

The horse's often celebrated lack of fear (39:22), traditionally interpreted as its most unambivalent characteristic, can be read as an absence of anxiety or dread in the presence of a vague, unidentifiable awareness of danger or peril (angst) 39:22a

(cf. 3:25; 13:11; and 23:15). It could also mean that a feeling of fright is missing, which has as its object an (at least imagined) localizable referent and source of unease such as the sword (39:22b). In either case, the horse's inner relationship to

danger is ultimately as useful to its safety or to the safety of the anonymous figures around it, as Job's "fear" of God was, looking back, to the physical well

being of himself and his family. The Hebrew Bible, as a whole, does not view violence uncritically, whether by

God or by men, and this is particularly evident in the equestrian passage of Job. In a skillful juxtaposition of images in the Whirlwind, the poet considers many contrasting pictures: the senseless violence of the horse, the equally senseless but less destructive and passive violence of the mother ostrich, the human and animal

experience of harm (weapons of hunting and war), the natural violence by and to families and individuals of various wild creatures of the desert and mountains, and the physiological and behavioral responses of behemot and leviatan to the hunt.

In the Whirlwind speeches, the poet has God openly place depictions of violence in the very center of creation. Nothing is beautified. It is a creation that at times requires faith, not one that easily and simply leads to or already contains faith. The horse marks the actual intrusion of human violence and in doing so

makes vivid the more natural kind of power and powerlessness and sense of creatureliness of the other animals. The descriptive realism of the other animals

gives way, in the horse, to a violently contortive introspection as soon as the human makes contact with this creation. Yet, the violence inside the horse is every bit as real as the visible world about him, and much more intimate. What is described here is emotional, unseen, and the battlefield and time of battle are unknown. Both the visible and invisible depictions in the Whirlwind are meant when Job says that he "has seen God" (42:5). Job experiences God in mystery, but



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no longer in secrecy; God remains wholly other, but now in a way in which

mystery is as open to view as the creation spread before him.18 The horse enthusiastically but blindly supports acts of violence. It can be

placed at will on this side of good or evil to support the cause of killing men. The absence of allegiance of any kind makes the horse, in its fearlessness, seem so

frightening. Its power is so overwhelming that it leaves no room for those human leaders from whom it learned its art. In Job, men have been debating for almost

forty chapters about the meaning of violence: one was the most virtuous of men and yet victim of violence, the others were men who would know better than he

why this virtuous life had taken such a dreadful turn. But now, in the middle of a wild and God-created group of animals untouched by human hands, the horse

suddenly appears bearing all the marks of the worst kind of human influence, mocking the traditional standards of human virtue that the "friends," then Job, had brought forth for our close inspection. Here is utter chaos: thundering noises, aimless, gratuitous violence, isolation, and total lack of reason and control. The

equestrian scene reflects Job's experience of violence, when the predictable com fort of his home was ravaged and he found himself in a senseless battle where, as in all wars, morals have no influence on the outcome of the battle nor on the

personal fortunes of those waging it. The violence of the horse addresses critically the claim of the "friends" that Job need only bring his own influence to bear and his fate would somehow become "manageable."

By itself, poetic description cannot be a sufficient answer to someone in pain. There is, however, something uplifting about the nature poetry. It is as if the poet were documenting realistically a personal experience of suffering (the chaos of the

horse) and at the same time adding pictures that contain the harsh, personally as

yet not fully accepted rudiments of faith (the earth as home, a "good" world with wild animals in their life apart from human standards, such as those of the

"friends") and also carry his anger (the smoldering strength of behemot and

leviatan). The Whirlwind does, perhaps, all of this. It is an experientially rich

expression of the effects of, and the attempted recovery from, violence. Going inside the violence of the horse, the poet shows, in a way completely absent in the first chapter of Job, that God is intimately familiar with the chaotic world of violence as it affects men, in particular where it has struck down Job. This inside view of violence is in the Hebrew Bible one of the strongest signs of recognition for the way violence can and does affect men's lives.

Moreover, the poet also has God answer to the violence inflicted on Job in a

way consonant with the physical plane of the tragic violence in chapters 1-2: in an animal, on the ground, in the world, in the nature that grew to become Job's wealth. This "grounded" or "earthy" language of nature speaks to one who, in his

very first plea, has "bellowed" to God as does an animal (3:24), and in his very last

pleas has spoken of his home as his "nest" (29:18), of God loosening his rope and

removing his bridle (30:11), and who called a jackal and an ostrich his "friends"

(30:29). These are all crude qualities, but basic, meaningful ones. Job's "com forters" had succeeded in moving Job away from the creational categories of

chapter 3 to the level of morals and dogma where violence supposedly became

predictable and controllable, and where religion is reduced to ethics. But Job called out to God as a creature, and God answers him now as his Creator. Job, representing the pinnacle of cultural and religious achievement, is suddenly so




close to returning to creation that the womb and grave meet (1:21; cf. 17:14a) and worms become his mother and sister (17:14b; cf. 7:5; 13:28; 24:20; and Bildad, in apparent agreement, 25:6). God's VVhirlwind, however, brings with it life

sustaining images of creatures who embody the same mixture of suffering and evil that Job, perhaps for the first time, experienced in real life and even within the

frailty of his own body. God's animals thus serve the important function of

showing Job that the chaos in the world can be lived chaos. The Whirlwind also renders support to Job in his criticism of the "friends." In

the Whirlwind the wild animals experience the violence of creation, but cannot offer up "good behavior" in response to the hunger, pain of separation, or chaos that is also their portion in creation. It is also obvious that their respective situations are not the result of such considerations.19 Certainly, in both cases, the fates of the animals have little relevance to, and offer no support for, the argu

ments of the "friends" when they try to explain or criticize Job's behavior. Nature

imagery is a most effective means to convey the point that moralistic considera tions cannot play a part in answering Job.

With this critique of a moralistic world view, the horse passage possibly also amounts to a caricature of the first two chapters, for there it was just the extreme

heights of virtue that singled out Job and thus brought violence to him. Toward the end of the book, it is the absence of all order and values in the middle of the chaos of war with and against God's creatures, out of which Job's restoration will now follow. Ethical norms guide behavior but do not predict what will happen to those who behave this way or that way. They can move people, but not their fates or the powers that ultimately determine fates.

The Whirlwind text is thus critical not only in terms of how Job and his "friends" see creation, but also about the way God is interpreted to use it. God honors men with creation (42:12-14), but does not reward them in any predictable or

explainable way (as in 1:9-11). Chapter one had described God as a consciously despotic deity, willing to use creation (1:16,19) to put a servant to the crudest and most undeserving of tests, and Job as God's habitually good and fearful servant. Both depictions there, of God and Job, were pervaded by the kind of measured, moralistic thinking that the Joban poet, in this biblical masterpiece, attempts to

criticize, and both pictures, of God and Job, therefore necessarily undergo a revision of depth and maturity by the end of the book. The God who would devise "rules" of torture (1:12; 2:6) and mettle in the fine points of distributing guilt (2:3), who would thus gamble with violence, disappears after the second chapter of Job. God returns in the Storm, not to defend, but to present creation as if creating and

caring for it anew. There is as little justification to expect in this act of creation as in the free, unquestioned acts of gratuity of Genesis 1. This Whirlwind creation is in less predictable form than in the opening chapters of Job, but in its jagged realism

with Job on much more faithful terms. Prior to the tragedies it would seem that Job was singled out because of his

exceptional qualities (1:8), not because he was creation's finest example. The horse for its part is plucked from the midst of the wild plains, as bizarre a creature in its fearless confusion as was Job in his fearful habitus of order and purity, and both

plumb the chaotic depths of a real, not make-believe world. The depiction of the world of which the poet has God speak at the end of the book gathers together the



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world as it is really experienced. It is realistic and therefore as an answer, if any word with a moral ring could tentatively be assigned at all, honest.20

Our consideration of the horse in Job has shown that the poet depicts the animal's strength and power as having no external sense of direction or purpose, no outside control, and no internal guidance, and is therefore violent. All sense of

utility surrounding the horse is missing. Its motions convey nervous, not ration

ally directed energy; the many noises created by the horse, the weapons, the shofar, and the shouting men likewise create a totally chaotic scene with no sense of orientation whatsoever. The source of this violence is suggested in an intratex tual comparison; a series of images portraying animals distant from or resistive to human control leads to the picture of the horse where human nature has finally touched creation and entered into it. At the same time the need for any independ ent human influence (rkhv) has disappeared entirely. The horse represents the chaotic experience of evil in a world where attempts at human control are in vain. The passage does not justify violence; rather, it affirms that physical evil exists in creation independently of human attempts to weigh, explain, assign guilt to, or

dispose of it. It would be cynical, surely, for us to praise those qualities of the horse that

remind Job of the violence under which he suffered so miserably. Rather, as we have seen, this violence has undergone in the theophany a subtle but meaningful critique. The absence of all utility and moral measures, and the isolation and confusion about the horse amidst the senseless destruction, suggest that violence can come as unexpectedly and undeservedly as did the Sabeans and Chaldeans, and as tragically as in the death of Job's children.

DAVID ODELL Bryn Mawr, Pennsylvania

NOTES

Portions of this article were contained in a paper presented at the annual meeting of

the Society for Biblical Literature, Mid-Atlantic Region, Washington, D.C., February 27,1992. S. Slymovics of Brown University and H. Levine of Franklin and Marshall College made helpful comments on an earlier draft of this article. J. Finch, Assistant Curator of Birds,

Philadelphia Zoo, kindly offered information about the ostrich. Biblical citations are accord ing to the JPS translation. Translations from German works are my own.

The term violence is used here to refer to acts that are viewed critically because of their

injurious, avoidable effects. Although commonly referring to human acts of aggression, the

term is equally applicable to the animal imagery in Job, where it accurately reflects the gratuitous and excessive nature of the force of which Job is a victim, whether its source be

from men, from God, or from nature.

1. Locusts are found in military images in Judg. 6:5, Isa. 33:4, and Jer. 46:23; 51:27 (with the horse); Joel 2:1-11 (also with the horse); Nah. 3:15 and elsewhere. As if in war, the

blowing of horns was supposed to help avert the evil caused by locusts (Joel 2:1,15). 2. The Joban poet's remarks on fauna, it is well known, draw on personal or borrowed

comments or observations from a variety of biotypes and geographical regions. Wild horses and other equids were observable in many areas within reach of the poet's cosmopolitan

sphere of interests and, perhaps, travels. Domesticated horses were not an uncommon sight,




primarily in the military (after Solomon) and cult (before Josiah); no wild horses are mentioned in the Hebrew Bible.

3. A nogesh (driver, oppressor) is mentioned in 39:7 who, however, has no contact to this animal world. The foot (reget) in 39:15, also used of animals in Gen. 8:9; Lev. 11:21,23, is here likely a human one, indicating the possible approach of a man, but short of an acting subject.

4. Cf. (as yctanah) Isa. 13:21; 34:13; 43:20; and Jer. 50:39. 5. rkhv, as verb also found in 30:22, means primarily "driving," and "riding" only in a

secondary sense; see Sigmund Mowinckel, "Drive and/or Ride in O.T.," Vetus Testamentum

12 (1962) 289. 6. Other animals were also part of the war effort, even though not always involved in

the fighting, e.g., mules (2 Sam. 18:9), camels (Judg. 6:5; 7:12), and asses (2 Kings 7:7; cf. Zech. 14:15; 1 Chron. 12:41). On the herd instinct of equids in battle, cf. M. A. Littauer and H. J. Crouwel, Wheeled Vehicles and Ridden Animals in the Ancient Near East (Leiden/Cologne, 1979), pp. 11-12. Israelite chariots held two or three persons.

7. sms, of course, is generic for "horse" (the feminine form, susah, appears only in Song of Sol. 1:9). According to Walter Mayer ("Gedanken zum Einsatz von Streitwagen und Reitern in neuassyrischer Zeit," Ugarit-Forschungen 10 [1978]: 177), only stallions were used for pulling chariots.

8. ra'amah is hapax legomenon and is variously rendered "mane" (JPS, Pope, Jastrow),

"mighty mane" (Gordis), "fierceness" (Reichert), "flowing hair" (Jerusalem Bible), "terror"

(Ball), "strength" (Mitchell), "thunder" (Good). The form racam (rage, roar, quake) also

occurs in Job 26:14, 37:4, 5 and 40:9 in the natural sense of "thunder"; a corresponding

meaning is also in keeping with the other auditory elements in the passage. Both the animal and human neck stand for "strength/will" 41:14 and Ps. 75:6; in the

many pictures of the "yoke" of oppression Gen. 27:40; Deut. 28:48; Isa. 52:2; Hos. 10:11, etc. It was often decorated, e.g., Song of Sol. 1:10; Judg. 8:21, 26. A military image is used Song of Sol. 4:4; cf. 7:5.

9. racash; rather than "jumps." The visual comparison between equestrian motion and

the jumping pattern of an insect would be awkward. Morris Jastrow, in The Book of Job (Philadelphia and London, 1920), p. 351, notes that the traditional translation of "leaping like a locust" is "unpoetical as well as absurd." Arnold Ehrlich, in Randglossen zur hebr?ischen

Bibel (vol. 6; Leipzigs 1912), p. 336, writes "It should be clear to everyone that it is impossible that a poet compare the leaps of the fiery steed with those of the grasshopper." The verse

really seems to be aimed at the condition or state of the horse, as the meanings "shaking" or

"quivering" imply, an equally valid remark about the agitated state of the insect. Ehrlich's

interesting reading eliminates the locust altogether: "Do you make it [the horse] smoke like a chimney?," noting that biblically, steam (or exhalation, as from the horse's nostrils) and

smoke are not always distinct.

10. Here is a problem of scale similar to that encountered with ra'ash. Some translate

shuv, "flinch," into the larger, more observable "turn away" (Good), "shy away" (Pope), "turn back" (Jastrow), or "draw back" (Gordis). Although the internal condition of the

animal is also reflected in the apparent indifference contained in these larger movements,

they imply tactical purposefulness foreign to the horse in this battle scene; the reading of the less noticeable but more revealing "flinch" is therefore preferable.

11. Other biblical military scenes are also associated with loud noises, e.g., 2 Kings 7:6, Isa. 528-30, and Jer. 4:29; 8:16f.; cf. Judg. 5:22.

12. shq, "laugh," allows the more abstract "scorn" or "scoff," but the audible impres sion of laughter is certainly encouraged by the other sounds in this passage.

13. The storm above, in its violence, seems to come from below as well: the expressions racash, "quake" (39:20a) and rogez, "shake" (39:24a) connect vibrations and sound with the

"swallowing of the ground" and the idea of an earthquake. 14. Cf. the voices of Hghtning 38:35, of ravens 38:41, and of leviatan 40:27.



Prooftexts 173

15. sarim is usually translated as some kind of superior officer, e.g., "chiefs" (Jerusalem

Bible), "captains" (RSV and NEB; the latter only footnotes the stich), "officers" (JPS). Ehrlich, however, writes: "Instead of sarim, read sharim 'singers'. For the orders of a few

commanding officers, racam is too strong a word to use, but not for the war song of a whole

army" (Randglossen zur hebr?ischen Bibel, p. 337). If this pointing is correct, no one is

expressly in command and the sense of directionlessness of the passage becomes even more

pronounced. Gerhard von Rad (Der heilige Krieg im alten Israel [Zurich, 1951], p. 80) mentions the use of singers in battle (2 Chron. 20:21).

16. teru'ah, also 8:21; 33:26 in a positive sense ("rejoice"). In a military sense, Num. 31:6, 1 Sam. 4:6, Amos 1:14 and 2:2, and Zeph. 1:16.

17. After von Rad, Der heilige Krieg, p. 11, referring to teru'ah (cf. note 16 above). Further

examples are Josh. 6:5,20; Jer. 49:2; Ezek. 21:27; and Amos 1:14. Elsewhere it can also signal entry or commencement of an activity: Lev. 25:9; Num. 10:5; 29:1; and 2 Sam. 6:15.

18. It remains difficult to interpret whether Job is actually reconciled with this experi ence; in the commentaries his final statement 42:2-7 is located anywhere between humble

acquiescence and feisty rebelliousness.

19. The "organic" connectedness of creation already mentioned begins to break down

where dogmatic categories are not allowed to "breathe." Biblically, animals subject to

punitive measures are treated as accountable (deserving of punishment) in their domesti

cated place within human society but not necessarily as responsible (deserving blame); all of the Whirlwind animals (except the horse) are wild and thus out of reach of such considerations.

20. Other biblical writers, less realistically, speak of the end of violence in creation: Isa. 2:4, Mic. 4:1-4, and Zech. 9:10; in Job cf. 5:23-26. This is, of course, a biblical promise that can transcend and sometimes genuinely transform the world, but it is not the approach nor

the promise of the Joban poet.



Images of Violence in the Horse in Job 39:18–25

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