Chapter 14 is the continuation of Iyov's response to Tzofar the Na'amathite. Tzofar had consoled him by saying that the righteous person's primary reward comes after death - "you shall dig [your grave] and lie down securely" - and Iyov comes to reject this consolation from its very foundation. The chapter is constructed as a series of arguments: first concerning the lowliness of man and the brevity of his days; next regarding the tremendous exacting scrutiny of Divine providence over such a frail creature; and finally - and this is the main theme of the chapter - that man has no hope after death, unlike a tree, unlike a stone, and unlike a mountain. Iyov, as we shall see, denies the resurrection of the dead, and therefore all of Tzofar's consolations are, in his eyes, futile comfort.
אָדָם יְלוּד אִשָּׁה קְצַר יָמִים וּשְׂבַע רֹגֶז׃ (א) - Man, born of woman, is short of days and sated with turmoil. (1)
Man, says Iyov, suffers from two liabilities. The first stems from the very nature of his birth: he is born of woman, formed from a putrid drop, nourished by niddah blood, and passes through the urinary tract, a place of impurity and repulsion. From his very inception, he is the lowliest of creatures. And the second liability is that his conclusion is no more appealing: "short of days and sated with turmoil." His days are few, and within these few days, suffering abounds - troubles, problems, taxes and levies, losses, grief, and injuries. The result is that man's afflictions outnumber his blessings. This is the very same complaint Iyov explicitly leveled against God in chapter 3: troubles outweigh good things, and so, in plain terms - why did You create man, just to suffer? For what purpose was man created?
Alongside the simple meaning, there is also a wonderful intimation in this verse. Researchers have found that one of the things that shortens a person's life most drastically is anger. In an angry person, all sorts of illnesses take root: high blood pressure, ulcers, heart problems. Researchers describe this as "stress," a state in which a person perpetually lacks peace of mind; in the language of Chazal, this is called an angry person - someone who has neither rest nor tranquility. And this is the meaning of "short of days and sated with turmoil (rogez)": one who is full of anger and turmoil finds that this very agitation cuts his days short.
Studies have shown that the highest life expectancy in Israel is in Bnei Brak. Yet in Bnei Brak, people do not engage in sports - aside from swaying by the shtender, there is no exercise there. Why, then, do people live long lives there? Because when a person has trust and faith in Hashem, his life is far more tranquil. One who lacks emunah and bitachon is stressed by everything and driven into anxiety by every circumstance. Some people are truly pitiful: they have no faith, and every minor event triggers panic - "what will we do, how will we manage?" - sometimes spiraling into very difficult states. In contrast, one who trusts in Hashem remains calm and secure. How many times does Dovid HaMelech say, "like a weaned child on its mother"? Have you ever seen an infant in its mother's arms worried about anything? Does a baby have a mortgage? Debts? An infant does not even worry about what it will eat at the next meal; it knows that the same milk nursed at the previous meal will be provided at the next. So it is with a person who relies on his Creator. One who does not rely on Him is constantly stressed, with every small thing disturbing his rest and peace of mind.
A wise person once defined it: to be angry means punishing yourself for other people's mistakes. The angry person harms himself, and from a strictly physiological standpoint, his body releases toxic chemicals. He boils with fury because someone else acted improperly - well, that person erred; but because he made a mistake, should you beat yourself up? That is what anger does. From this, one can appreciate how far one must distance oneself from the trait of anger. And even someone who does not display anger outwardly but "eats himself up" inside - know that this is even worse. Both are destructive, but stewing inside causes greater damage. Someone once remarked: what kills a person is not what he eats, but what eats him. Certainly one must maintain a healthy diet, but what eats away at a person kills him even faster. People who live under constant stress and pressure live shorter lives; those whose lives flow peacefully, beside tranquil waters, with trust in Hashem and joy in what they have, live longer lives.
כְּצִיץ יָצָא וַיִּמָּל וַיִּבְרַח כַּצֵּל וְלֹא יַעֲמוֹד׃ (ב) - He blossoms like a flower and withers; he flees like a shadow and does not endure. (2)
Beyond the fact that man is deficient at his beginning, at his end, and throughout his days, he possesses no strength or permanence whatsoever - neither in his essence nor in his time. In his essence: "He blossoms like a flower and withers." The blossom (tzitz) is the flower, as seen during the season of Birkas Ha'Ilanos; as soon as the blossom emerges, it falls away, and the fruit begins to form. So it is with man: as soon as he blossoms like a flower, he is cut down and withers.
Anyone who contemplates this will see that the reality of human existence proves from within that we were not created for this world. How so? A person is born with nothing. Until age twenty, he acquires wisdom, learning how to conduct himself in the world (there are some who have not acquired anything even at sixty, but let us speak of the norm). Then he begins to acquire assets, and by age forty or fifty he is established. Once established, he begins to make a name for himself - people recognize him, he becomes a figure of stature, and by sixty or seventy he is a respected pillar of the community. Wonderful, now real life has begun! Yet at this exact stage, what happens? Doctor visits become frequent, his teeth are not what they used to be, his eyesight weakens, his appetite fades, and he has likely undergone a cardiac catheterization or two. Master of the Universe, I have only just reached the peak - and now that I have reached the summit, You puncture my tires?
What do we learn from this? That the peak is not physical life. For if the peak were material existence, why would a person be taken precisely at the top - when he no longer has a mortgage, no debts, no quarrels, his mind is composed, he has acquired wisdom, honor, a good name, and standing in the community? If someone were to think that man was created for this world, that would seem extraordinarily cruel. It would be like a man who worked his entire life to become chief of staff, only to be fired on his first day in office. I worked all my life for this, and the moment I arrive, You take it away? Rather, one must inevitably conclude that this is not why you are here: not for the apartment, not for the wealth, not for the name and prestige. You are here to amass Torah and mitzvos. Consequently, do not ask why a person is taken at the top - what is "the top"? Money? Real estate? Grandchildren? The top is your spiritual attainment. By age seventy, you are expected to have accumulated abundant spiritual achievements, and you are taken at the end of the work, not at its beginning, since the work begins when a person attains understanding, from age seven.
And this is "from the aspect of his time": "He flees like a shadow and does not abide." Life passes like a fleeting shadow that does not stand still. Whoever contemplates this will see something profound and sobering: from the moment a person is born, the clock of death begins ticking. If eighty years were decreed for him, then on the day he is born he is allotted eighty years minus one day, and the next day eighty minus two days. The countdown has begun. This thought could easily plunge a person into deep depression - every single moment draws closer to the grave, another day and another day. But if a person understands that drawing near to the grave is itself the ultimate purpose, for that is where one is meant to draw close to the Creator of the world, and one is meant to utilize every moment so that arriving there will be a glorious summit rather than a catastrophe - from this he draws immense encouragement. Yet for one who sees the purpose of life here in this world, it is no wonder he needs psychologists and antidepressants: I work and advance with the knowledge that I will leave everything behind and pass away. If this world were the ultimate goal - that would be tremendous cruelty and utter depression. But when a person realizes that this world is merely a vehicle to reach the Creator of the world, on the contrary, the day of the grave is "and she laughs at the final day," the moment of meeting the Creator of the world. And why do we not rejoice on the day of death? Because once a person dies - it is over, "there is no reckoning... in Sheol where you are going"; one can no longer perform mitzvot, and over this we grieve, as well as over the difficulty of parting from our loved ones. But over the very fact that the soul departs to unite with the Creator of the world - over that there is certainly nothing to mourn.
אַף עַל זֶה פָּקַחְתָּ עֵינֶךָ וְאֹתִי תָבִיא בְמִשְׁפָּט עִמָּךְ׃ (ג) - "Upon such a one do You open Your eyes, and bring me into judgment with You?" (3)
Iyov says: Master of the Universe, even upon man, who is utterly lowly - born of woman, short of days, who blossoms like a flower and is cut down - even upon him You open Your eyes to watch with such exacting precision, to the point that You bring him into judgment for what he did at every single moment? And general providence over mankind is not enough, nor even individual providence over man, but individual providence over every single deed and every single one of his thoughts! Over such a creature, who is entirely weakness, such exacting scrutiny?
מִי יִתֵּן טָהוֹר מִטָּמֵא לֹא אֶחָד׃ (ד) - "Who can produce pure from impure? Not one!" (4)
If so, Iyov says, You ought to overlook some of man's faults. For "who can produce pure from impure? Not one!" - how could something pure emerging from something impure not share the nature of the impure source from which it sprang? A branch always resembles its root. An oak branch cannot grow from the root of a cypress; a cypress produces cypress branches, and the branch is bound to its root. And man is born of impurity - from physical seed and maternal blood, impure matter. How can he transform his nature and become holy and elevated? For the branch and its source are one. Consequently, whatever originates from impurity is itself impure. This is what Chazal teach: that which emerges from the impure is impure. What is the status of camel's milk? The Torah does not explicitly state "camel's milk is forbidden"; it states that the camel may not be eaten, and what emerges from the impure is impure, and therefore its milk is forbidden as well. There is an exception like the bee, but there the honey does not come from her bodily substance and is not part of her. If so, Iyov argues, man is inevitably impure, since that is his origin - so why this endless demand upon him? Why this intense scrutiny of judgment, this moment-by-moment providence and meticulous examination of every single detail, if his entire origin is impure, having sprung from impurity?
Our Sages, however, expounded this verse in an entirely different manner: "Who can produce pure from impure? Not one" - is it conceivable that someone as pure as Avraham Avinu, holy of holies, a chariot for the Shechinah, could emerge from someone as impure, detestable, and abominable as Terach? And not only did he emerge from someone impure, but he was conceived when Terach came upon Amathlai bat Karnevo while she was in a state of niddah, Heaven forbid - and from this Avraham was born. Who can bring forth someone so pure and holy from such an impure source? "Not one" - only the One, only the Holy One, Blessed is He, the Unique One of the world, is capable of this. And why indeed is it so? We have already explained previously why the Holy One, Blessed is He, specifically brought forth the holiest and purest things from the most impure and lowly places.
אִם חֲרוּצִים יָמָיו מִסְפַּר חֳדָשָׁיו אִתָּךְ חֻקָּו עָשִׂיתָ וְלֹא יַעֲבֹר׃ (ה) - "If his days are determined, the number of his months is with You; You have set his limits that he cannot pass." (5)
"Determined" (charutzim) means fixed - resolved and decreed by Heavenly decree. It was allotted how many days he will live, allotted how he will live, and determined precisely what actions he will perform, whether mitzvot or transgressions - according to Iyov's mistaken notion that there is no free will. And not only his days, but "the number of his months is with You," everything is according to the decree, both in the quantity of life and in its quality, whatever he will experience in his days. If so, "You have set his limits that he cannot pass" - You established boundaries and fixed patterns for all his actions, and he cannot do otherwise, nor can he transgress what You have decreed. It turns out, then, that man has no free choice, so how can You demand an accounting from him and hold him liable as though he acted by choice? This argument runs like a scarlet thread through Iyov's words, repeated over and over in various formulations: my deeds are predetermined, and there is no basis to demand accountability from me.
שְׁעֵה מֵעָלָיו וְיֶחְדָּל עַד יִרְצֶה כְּשָׂכִיר יוֹמוֹ׃ (ו) - "Turn Your gaze away from him that he may rest, until he fulfills his day like a hired hand." (6)
If so, Master of the Universe, it is fitting that "You look away from him" - turn away from him, just as we saw earlier, "and You put my feet in the stocks": remove the stocks from my feet. You coerce me in my actions - remove this coercion; do not force my deeds. "Until, like a hired worker, he completes his day" - until everything he does is done like a hired worker. Why does a hired worker work? For wages. If You remove Your hand from me and do not force my actions, I will perform all my deeds out of free choice in order to receive reward from Hashem. But as long as You do not look away from me, but continue to coerce me - I am not like a hired worker, but like one compelled, like a slave who does nothing of his own will but only by the will of his master, and I have no choice.
כִּי יֵשׁ לָעֵץ תִּקְוָה אִם יִכָּרֵת וְעוֹד יַחֲלִיף וְיֹנַקְתּוֹ לֹא תֶחְדָּל׃ (ז) - "For there is hope for a tree: if it is cut down, it will renew itself, and its shoot will not cease." (7)
Here Iyov addresses Tzofar's argument that the primary reward of the righteous is after death. Can a person actually live after passing away? Such hope exists for a tree, but not for man. A tree has hope in two ways. The first way: if it was cut down while still fresh, or uprooted with its roots - there is hope that if we replant it elsewhere, it will grow once again. "It will renew itself" - it will regenerate and grow anew; "and its shoot will not cease" - its absorption of sap does not stop, for the roots are healthy and still exist.
אִם יַזְקִין בָּאָרֶץ שָׁרְשׁוֹ וּבֶעָפָר יָמוּת גִּזְעוֹ׃ (ח) מֵרֵיחַ מַיִם יַפְרִחַ וְעָשָׂה קָצִיר כְּמוֹ נָטַע׃ (ט) - "Though its root grow old in the earth, and its trunk die in the dust; at the scent of water it will bud, and produce boughs like a sapling." (8-9)
The second way: the tree was not cut down, but its vigor and absorption ceased due to old age - "though its root grow old in the earth," its power to draw nourishment weakens, and consequently the trunk above the root dies completely: "and its trunk die in the dust." Seemingly, on its own, it has no life left, yet it still has the capacity to live: "at the scent of water it will bud" - if you water it, and even if not with much, but merely let it, so to speak, scent water, it will bud anew. "And produce boughs like a sapling" - it will sprout roots, branches, twigs, and boughs as if it had been planted afresh. Iyov says: in the case of a tree, I agree. A tree that was cut down, felled, or withered still retains vitality within it and can return to life.
וְגֶבֶר יָמוּת וַיֶּחֱלָשׁ וַיִּגְוַע אָדָם וְאַיּוֹ׃ (י) - "But a man dies and becomes weak; a human perishes, and where is he?" (10)
But for man, there is no hope in either of these two ways. In the first way: if a man is cut off while still a "gever" (a vigorous man), in the days of his youth, not out of old age but in his prime and vigor - he is not like a felled tree that does not reach final death but renews itself; rather, "a man dies and becomes weak," death weakens him to such an extent that there is no possibility of renewing him again. And in the second way as well, when I compare him to a tree dying of old age - "a human perishes, and where is he?" Even when he perishes from the weakness of old age, "and where is he" - he is gone, and there is no way for him to return and be renewed.
אָזְלוּ מַיִם מִנִּי יָם וְנָהָר יֶחֱרַב וְיָבֵשׁ׃ (יא) וְאִישׁ שָׁכַב וְלֹא יָקוּם עַד בִּלְתִּי שָׁמַיִם לֹא יָקִיצוּ וְלֹא יֵעֹרוּ מִשְּׁנָתָם׃ (יב) - "Waters depart from the sea, and a river becomes parched and dry. So man lies down and does not rise; until the heavens are no more, they will not awake, nor be aroused from their sleep." (11-12)
And what availed the tree does not avail man. For the tree, we said, "at the scent of water it will bud, and produce boughs like a sapling," as though planted anew; but with man - even if all the waters of the sea run out, and even if all the rivers dry up and become parched and you bring all their waters to pour over the dead person, perhaps he will emerge purer, but alive? No. This is the parable: at the scent of water, a weakened tree will blossom, whereas all the waters in the world will not revive a weakened man. This is what he means by, "So man lies down and does not rise." Man is not a tree of the field; once man has lain down - his death is a total end to his former state, and he will not rise through water. "Until the heavens are no more, they will not awake" - the Holy One, blessed be He, created a natural order in this world beneath the heavens that the body of the deceased will not live again; and as long as this nature does not change, as long as Hashem does not create new and different heavens, it is impossible for people to awake and be aroused from their sleep - that is, from their deathbed.
מִי יִתֵּן בִּשְׁאוֹל תַּצְפִּנֵנִי תַּסְתִּירֵנִי עַד שׁוּב אַפֶּךָ תָּשִׁית לִי חֹק וְתִזְכְּרֵנִי׃ (יג) - "O that You would conceal me in Sheol, hide me until Your wrath turns away, appoint me a set time and remember me!" (13)
You, Zophar, tell me, "You shall dig, and lie down in safety" and "Life will rise brighter than noonday" - that you will pass away from this world and afterward all goodness will come, and you will return and live a new life. Iyov says: I have no expectation of this; I do not aim so high. I harbor no lofty hopes that after my death I will rise and live a good, happy life. If only You would hide me in Sheol, concealing me until Your wrath turns away - if only I had mere cessation there, just protection from everything I am suffering today. You speak to me of wonderful things and exalted bounties, but I have no need for any of that; it would be enough for me if I were assured that in Sheol I would find a respite from my suffering. "Set a limit for me and remember me" - set a boundary for how many years I will lie buried in Sheol, and afterward remember to bring me out of the grave and revive me. That would have been enough for me. But, says Iyov, even this is impossible.
אִם יָמוּת גֶּבֶר הֲיִחְיֶה כָּל יְמֵי צְבָאִי אֲיַחֵל עַד בּוֹא חֲלִיפָתִי׃ (יד) תִּקְרָא וְאָנֹכִי אֶעֱנֶךָּ לְמַעֲשֵׂה יָדֶיךָ תִכְסֹף׃ (טו) - "If a man dies, can he live again? All the days of my service I would wait, until my renewal should come. (14) You would call and I would answer You; You would yearn for the work of Your hands. (15)"
Is it conceivable that a person who dies could return and live, as you claim, Zophar? And if not, how can you tell me that throughout "all the days of my service" - all the days of my life - I should wait until my renewal comes, that I should wait all my life for an afterlife, for another life to replace this bitter one? Furthermore, you told me, "You would call and I would answer You; You would yearn for the work of Your hands" - that even though here I cry out like a voice calling in the wilderness, there, in that new life, the Holy One, Blessed is He, will answer me and grant me good in place of my afflictions. Is such a thing conceivable? Today You despise the work of Your hands, which is why You afflict me and I suffer immense hardship; and suddenly, after all these afflictions, You will yearn for the work of Your hands? You will long for me, desire me, and answer me when I turn to You? How could that be?
כִּי עַתָּה צְעָדַי תִּסְפּוֹר לֹא תִשְׁמֹר עַל חַטָּאתִי׃ (טז) חָתֻם בִּצְרוֹר פִּשְׁעִי וַתִּטְפֹּל עַל עֲוֹנִי׃ (יז) - "For now You count my steps; You do not wait regarding my sin. (16) Sealed in a bag is my transgression, and You plaster over my iniquity. (17)"
Logic dictates the exact opposite. When you see someone who detests his fellow so intensely, it is inconceivable that tomorrow he will truly love him. So it is here: "For now You count my steps" - right now You lie in wait for my steps, seeking to bring me down without cause; and "You do not wait regarding my sin" - tishmor is an expression of waiting, as in "and his father kept (shamar) the matter in mind": You do not wait at all, but rather afflict me even before I have sinned, like a person lying in wait for his fellow, watching for the slightest misstep to pounce on him and point out his flaw, waiting for me around the corner. If so, how can I hope that after death You will suddenly become fond of me, yearn for the work of Your hands, and answer when I call?
Furthermore: "Sealed in a bag is my transgression" - that You would take my willful sin and seal it in a bundle so it never opens; "and You plaster over my iniquity" - that You would take my iniquity and spread mortar over it to conceal it. Is it conceivable that today You count my steps and do not wait for my sin, punishing me even before I have sinned, and tomorrow You will seal all my transgressions in a bundle, become my friend, and plaster over and conceal my sins without exposing them? Could such a complete turnaround ever make sense?
וְאוּלָם הַר נוֹפֵל יִבּוֹל וְצוּר יֶעְתַּק מִמְּקֹמוֹ׃ (יח) - "Yet indeed, a mountain collapses and crumbles away, and a rock is dislodged from its place. (18)"
The truth is that throughout the natural world, it is impossible for anything to be utterly lost from existence. Even if you see something damaged or fallen, know that it rises again. "A mountain collapses and crumbles away" - the mountain falls, and in its fall it seems to wither, yet despite this it rises and grows once more; a withering followed by new growth. "And a rock is dislodged from its place" - even a falling boulder is merely moved from its spot, shifting from one place to another, but it does not revert to nothingness; it exists, having transitioned from one state to another, changing its location while remaining a stone. Likewise regarding mountains, the Malbim explains that scientists maintain that mountains, as it were, grow - what we today call geological shifts, plate tectonics, and movements of the earth, where mountains gradually rise and shift over time.
אֲבָנִים שָׁחֲקוּ מַיִם תִּשְׁטֹף סְפִיחֶיהָ עֲפַר אָרֶץ וְתִקְוַת אֱנוֹשׁ הֶאֱבַדְתָּ׃ (יט) - "Water wears away stones; its torrents wash away the soil of the earth; and You destroy man's hope. (19)"
Even stones worn away by water until ground into fine dust do not perish into oblivion. Where did the stones come from? They are an outgrowth of the earth - part of the ground that solidified and became stone; and when the water comes, washes it, and dissolves it, it returns to being dust. This is Iyov's argument: all things in nature transition from one state to another and are never utterly destroyed. "And You destroy man's hope" - only the hope of mortal man have You completely destroyed. Inanimate matter transforms from state to state and experiences renewal, like trees and stones, but man alone wears away and dies, with no restoration.
תִּתְקְפֵהוּ לָנֶצַח וַיַּהֲלֹךְ מְשַׁנֶּה פָנָיו וַתְּשַׁלְּחֵהוּ׃ (כ) - You overpower him forever, and he departs; You alter his visage and send him away.
Here Iyov returns to speak of that hope of man. "Titkefeihu lanetzach" (You overpower him forever) - from the language of *tokef* (force) and strength: when a person is young, what drives him? Hope. In more contemporary terms - ambition. And where does ambition stem from? From the plans he nurtures and the hope in his heart: I will open a business, I will expand it, we will open branches, we will expand overseas. A person has many ideas, and this is what gives him vitality - hope and anticipation. Look at a young man who just finished the army: how many ideas fill his head, how many businesses he has already opened and closed in his imagination. Baruch Hashem he did not pursue them, for otherwise who knows what damage he was spared; meanwhile, it is only in his imagination. This hope gives him strength and shows him how much success he will achieve, as if he will be powerful forever: you will build an empire, you will be a giant. "Vayelech" (and he departs) - this is what he marches upon, in the processions of hope, anticipating happiness and success.
"Meshaneh fanav vatishlecheihu" (You alter his visage and send him away) - but when the appearance of his face begins to change, when wrinkles appear and hair changes color, suddenly it becomes clear to him that things are not as he thought: the world is not waiting for you, you are not about to take it by storm, and you should just hope it does not overcome you. Do not expect to reach too high; just protect what you have. Suddenly he sees that all the hopes, ambitions, and plans have vanished like smoke. That very hope that created ambition, grandiose thoughts, and castles in the air in his youth has crashed against the rock of reality, and he realizes that the situation is not at all what he envisioned.
יִכְבְּדוּ בָנָיו וְלֹא יֵדָע וְיִצְעֲרוּ וְלֹא יָבִין לָמוֹ׃ (כא) אַךְ בְּשָׂרוֹ עָלָיו יִכְאָב וְנַפְשׁוֹ עָלָיו תֶּאֱבָל׃ (כב) - His sons attain honor, yet he does not know it; they are brought low, and he does not perceive it for them. Only his flesh grieves over him, and his soul mourns over him.
And even regarding his children's success after his death, he has nothing to hope for. "Yikhbedu vanav velo yeida" (His sons attain honor, yet he does not know) - the dead know nothing, and even if his sons achieve honor and happiness, his own story has already concluded. "Veyitz'aru velo yavin lamo" (and they are brought low, and he does not perceive it for them) - and if they suffer the opposite of honor, sorrow and harm, he will not perceive that either; there in the grave he is no longer informed and does not know what is happening with them. "Ach besaro alav yikh'av" (Only his flesh grieves over him) - whatever pain his flesh feels in the grave is not for his sons, but for himself. "Venafsho alav te'eval" (and his soul mourns over him) - his soul will mourn over its own condition, not over his children, for he does not know what is happening with them.
In simple words, Iyov is saying: death is the end. Do not tell me tales of life after death. Iyov denies the resurrection of the dead and does not believe in it, and consequently, when Tzofar comes and comforts him with empty consolations - "Do not worry, better days than these will yet come, you will live again" - Iyov answers him: That is entirely untrue, and your words defy logic.
The chapter opens with the lowliness of man - born of a woman, short of days and sated with agitation, like a flower that blooms and withers, and like a fleeting shadow - and from this Iyov argues against the strictness of Divine Providence: "Who can produce purity from impurity?", and if all his actions are predetermined and decreed in advance, there is no place to hold him accountable; turn away from him and let him accomplish his work like a hired laborer, through free choice and for the sake of reward. In its second part, the chapter is a systematic rebuttal of Tzofar's consolation: a tree has hope, whether it is cut down or grows old, and at the scent of water it will bud; a mountain, a rock, and worn stone transition from state to state; yet man's hope alone is lost - man lies down and does not rise. Iyov concludes that he does not even know what becomes of his children, and his flesh and soul ache for himself alone. Yet from these very verses we also learned the opposite perspective: that anger shortens days and bitachon lengthens them, and the fact that man is taken precisely at the peak of his strength and possessions proves in itself that physical existence is not the pinnacle - rather, spiritual attainment is, and closeness to the grave is itself closeness to the Creator of the world.