Sometime along the way in my study of Job, I realized I was feeling certain versions were putting forth a better translation of a particular word or phrase than the others. The more I thought about it, the more I felt confident that each version was often missing a little something. When I think about it, it’s amazing how much work has to go into translating a book, much less a book with 66 disparate parts that are supposed to reveal God to the reader and serve as the foundation for theology and every life decision.

Of course, I know no Hebrew and if it were possible, even less of the ancient Hebrew that Job was written in. To be honest, I do not think my brain can even begin to understand the markings that make up the Hebrew language. Like Chinese, Korean, or even Russian (or whatever the real names of those languages might be), my brain just doesn’t seem to be made for more than the one alphabet I grew up with.

After studying two chapters of Job, I decided that I would start to write what I thought the best translation might be starting with chapter three. (I hope to go back and do the first two, but…) Since it was not a translation, my brain reached back into what others call a memory and came out with “amalgamation”. (I had to look it up to make sure it was the right term.)

I decided I would read the nine translations I am using, a verse at a time, and I would pick an amalgamation for each and see how it went. After fifteen verses, I decided its enjoyable, I am learning more about the meaning of each piece of Job, and I am working the challenge that I sought in starting this study.

I also decided that the added benefit of having something to share with others along the way was worth the risk of being thought of as arrogant or whatever this might be negatively construed as. My goal is to share my walk with God for His glory and if necessary, my shame. I hope you enjoy reading the results and maybe learn a little along the way. (Note I am not marking verses in the poetry.)

Job 3

Afterward, Job began to speak, and curse the day of his birth, Job raised his voice and said:

 

Blot out the day of my birth,

And the night that announced: “A man is conceived.”

That day – May it be darkness,

May God above not regard it,

May the light not shine upon it,

May darkness, death’s shadow, reclaim it,

May a pall lie over it,

May the blackened day terrorize it.

That night – May blackness take it,

May it not rejoice among the days of the year,

May it not appear in any of its months.

That night – May it be childless (barren),

May no joyful songs penetrate it.

May those curse it who charm the sea,

Those skilled in seducing leviathan.

May its twilight stars remain dark,

May it hope for day light in vain,

May it not see the glimmer of dawn.

For the day did not seal the wombs doors on me,

Nor curtain wretchedness from my eyes.

 

Why did I not die in the womb?

Or perish as I came forth from it?

Why knees to receive me?

Why breast to nurse me?

For then, I would be lying down in peace

I would be sleeping and be at rest

With worldly kings and counselors

Who rebuilt rubble heaps for themselves?

Or with princess, rich with gold,

Who filled their tombs with silver?

 

Or why was I not buried like a stillborn,

Like infants who never see daylight.

There the wicked cease their raging,

And there their victims are at rest.

There the captives are at ease,

They no longer hear their overseer’s shouts.

There the small and the great are equal,

The slave, now free, beside his master.

 

Why give light to the sufferer,

Why life to the bitter in spirit,

Who long for death that does not come,

Who seek it more than buried treasure,

Who rejoice at the tomb,

Who are thrilled to reach the grave?

Why to a man whose way is hidden,

Whom God has hedged in?

 

For my groaning comes like bread,

My cries pour out like water.

For one thing I feared, and it befell me,

What I dreaded came upon me.

I have no ease, no peace, no rest,

What came is agony.