who has gathered the wind in his fists?
who has bound up the waters in a garment?
who has established all the ends of the earth?
what is his name, and what is his son's name, if thou knowest?
It is not easy to interpret this little passage. Evidently
the speaker is a 'wise man,' who, according to some critics,
inculcates a reverent humility by reporting the fruitlessness
of his own theological speculations. After long brooding
over the problems of the divine nature (so they explain), the
Hebrew sage was compelled to desist with the feeling of his
utter incapacity. Like Israel the patriarch he strove with
God, but unlike Israel he did not prevail. He knows indeed
what God has done and is continually doing; He is the
Omnipresent One, the Lord of wind and flood, the Author of
the boundaries of the earth. But what is this great Being's
name, and (to know Him intimately) what is His son's name?
On this view of its meaning, the passage reminds one of the
words of Goethe's Faust, 'Who can name Him, or who confess,
I believe Him? Who can feel, and can be bold to say, I
believe Him not?' Or perhaps we may still better compare
Max Letteris' masterly Hebrew translation or adaptation, in
which the medieval doctor has been transformed into Ben
Abuyah (or Acher (
Hebrew characters)), the famous apostate from Judaism in
the second century of our era. The passage with which we
are concerned as illustrative of the passage before us is on
page 164, and begins (Hebrew characters). Notice the delicate
tact in the choice of the second verb, 'Who can give Him
an honourable surname?' (comp. Isa, xliv. 5, xiv. 4.) Later
on, after other names suggested by the German original, the
modern Hebrew poet continues, (Hebrew characters), and
in a note refers to a parallel passage in a Hebrew poem by
Ibn Gabirol.
I must make bold to doubt the correctness of this explanation. (1) Because it does not sufficiently account for the language of ver. 2. (2) Because upon this view of the questions of ver. 4, an Israelite's answer would simply be, Jehovah (comp. Job xxxviii. 5, Isa. xl. 12). (3) Because it is so difficult to see why the poet should have asked further,
