When “Bless” Means “Curse”: The Angelic Court Paradox in Job 1-2
Part 1 of 4: Exploring the Septuagint’s Book of Job
Hello brothers and sisters.
If you’ve read the book of Job in any English translation, you know the setup: Job is a righteous man whom Satan challenges in the heavenly court. Satan claims that Job only serves God because God has blessed him with wealth, family, and health. Take those away, Satan argues, and Job will curse God to His face.
It’s one of the most famous scenarios in all of Scripture. The ultimate test of faith. Will Job curse God when everything is stripped away?
But here’s something that might surprise you: in the Greek Septuagint, Satan never actually says Job will “curse” God. He says Job will “bless” God.
Yes, you read that right. Bless. Not curse.
And it’s not a translation error. It’s not the Septuagint translators getting confused. It’s actually a completely literal rendering of what the Hebrew text says.
Which raises a fascinating question: Why does the Hebrew text use the word “bless” when it clearly means “curse”? And what happens when you read it literally, as the Septuagint does, without interpreting the euphemism?
Welcome to one of the most intriguing textual puzzles in the book of Job.
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The Texts Side by Side
Let’s start by looking at what the different versions actually say. We’ll examine three key moments: Satan’s first challenge (Job 1:11), his second challenge (Job 2:5), and Job’s wife’s infamous advice (Job 2:9).
Satan’s First Challenge (Job 1:11)
Hebrew Masoretic Text (NRSV):
“But stretch out your hand now, and touch all that he has, and he will curse you to your face.”
Greek Septuagint (Brenton):
“Nay, but put forth thine hand, and touch all that he has: verily he will bless thee to thy face.”
Greek Septuagint (NETS):
“Yet, now send forth your hand and touch all the things that belong to him—whether he will not bless you to your face!”
Satan’s Second Challenge (Job 2:5)
Hebrew Masoretic Text (NRSV):
“But stretch out your hand now and touch his bone and his flesh, and he will curse you to your face.”
Greek Septuagint (Brenton):
“Nay, but put forth thine hand, and touch his bones and his flesh: verily he will bless thee to his face.”
Greek Septuagint (NETS):
“But, now send forth your hand and touch his bones and his flesh—whether he will not bless you to your face!”
Job’s Wife’s Advice (Job 2:9)
Hebrew Masoretic Text (NRSV):
“Do you still persist in your integrity? Curse God, and die.”
Greek Septuagint (Brenton):
“Hast thou still kept thine integrity? Bless God, and die.”
Greek Septuagint (NETS):
“Do you still hold on to your innocence? Speak something against God and die!”
Notice that NETS— the modern scholarly translation of the Septuagint —breaks from the literal “bless” in Job 2:9 and renders it “speak something against.” We’ll come back to why that matters.
What’s Actually Happening in the Hebrew?
Here’s the key: the Hebrew word in all three passages is בָּרַךְ (barak), which means “to bless.”
Not קָלַל (qalal), which means “to curse.”
The actual Hebrew word is “bless.” Every single time.
But the Hebrew text uses a construction that makes it clear the meaning is the opposite. In Job 1:11 and 2:5, Satan says: אִם־לֹ֤א עַל־פָּנֶ֖יךָ יְבָרְכֶֽךָּ (im-lo al-panekha yevarekeka).
Literally: “if he does not bless you to your face.”
This is what’s called a negative oath formula in Hebrew. The phrase אִם־לֹא (im-lo, “if not”) creates an ironic or euphemistic statement. The literal words say one thing; the actual meaning is the opposite.
Think of it like this: if someone says in English, “If I don’t punch that guy in the face...” they’re not really making a conditional statement. They’re using a rhetorical formula that actually means, “I’m definitely going to punch that guy in the face.”
In Hebrew, using “bless” (barak) in connection with cursing God is a euphemism. It’s a way of avoiding speaking the actual word “curse” in direct connection with God’s name.
Why Use a Euphemism?
The Jewish scribal tradition was deeply reverent about God’s name and anything associated with Him. Speaking or writing “curse God” felt blasphemous, even when reporting what someone else said.
So they used בָּרַךְ (barak, “bless”) as a substitute for קָלַל (qalal, “curse”) in these contexts.
It’s similar to how we might say someone “passed away” instead of “died,” or how people sometimes say “gosh” or “darn” to avoid using God’s name or profanity. The word itself is inoffensive, but everyone understands what’s really meant.
This euphemistic use of “bless” for “curse” appears elsewhere in the Hebrew Bible as well. For example:
In 1 Kings 21:10, 13: The false witnesses accuse Naboth of having “blessed” (barak) God and the king, though they clearly mean he cursed them, since they executed him for it.
So when Hebrew readers encountered בָּרַךְ (barak) in Job 1-2, they understood immediately: this is the euphemism. It means “curse.”
What the Septuagint Did
Now here’s the interesting part.
The Septuagint translators, working sometime in the 2nd or 3rd century B.C., had a choice to make. They could:
Translate the euphemism literally (use the Greek word for “bless”)
Interpret the euphemism (use the Greek word for “curse”)
They chose option 1. They rendered בָּרַךְ (barak) as εὐλογέω (eulogeō), which means “to bless.”
In Job 1:11, Satan says: εἰ μὴν εἰς πρόσωπόν σε εὐλογήσει (ei mēn eis prosōpon se eulogēsei).
Literally: “he will bless you to your face.”
The translators preserved the paradox of the Hebrew text. They didn’t smooth it out. They didn’t interpret it for their Greek-speaking readers.
They left it strange.
Why Did They Do This?
Several possibilities:
Reverent literalism: The LXX translators may have felt it was important to preserve the exact wording of the Hebrew, even if it created a paradox in Greek. They wanted Greek readers to encounter the same textual phenomenon Hebrew readers did.
Trusting the reader: They may have assumed their audience—Greek-speaking Jews familiar with the Hebrew Scriptures—would understand the euphemism without explanation.
Theological significance: Perhaps they saw something theologically important in the word “bless” being used, even euphemistically. We’ll explore this possibility in a moment.
Translation philosophy: The LXX of Job overall tends to be quite literal in some places while paraphrasing in others. This may simply reflect the translator’s general approach.
How This Affects the Reading
Now let’s think about what happens when you read the text with “bless” instead of “curse.”
If you’re a Greek-speaking Christian in the 2nd century A.D., you don’t have access to Hebrew manuscripts. You don’t necessarily know about the euphemistic use of “bless” in Hebrew.
You’re reading the Septuagint, and Satan says: “Touch all that Job has, and he will bless you to your face.”
What do you make of that?
Possible Interpretations
1. Empty, Hypocritical Worship
Satan could be predicting that Job will “bless” God in a purely formal, empty, ritualistic way. Just going through the motions of worship without genuine devotion.
He’ll say the words, perform the rituals, mouth the blessings, but his heart won’t be in it. He’ll “bless” God “to His face”— directly, publicly, formally —but it will be hollow. A performance. Hypocrisy.
This reading actually fits Satan’s argument quite well. Satan isn’t saying Job will become an overt blasphemer. He’s saying Job’s piety is transactional. Take away the benefits, and the “blessings” become empty shells.
2. Cynical Blessing
Satan could be using “bless” sarcastically or cynically. The way someone might say, “Oh, bless his heart” in Southern American English when they actually mean something critical.
Satan is the accuser, the cynic par excellence. Using “bless” with dripping irony would fit his character perfectly.
3. The Euphemism Carried Over
Greek-speaking Jews may well have understood that “bless” in this context meant “curse,” just as Hebrew readers did. The euphemism may have been so well known that it transferred across languages.
After all, the Jewish community that produced and (initially) used the Septuagint was deeply connected to Hebrew Scripture and tradition. They would have known the idioms.
4. A Deeper Paradox
Here’s a more subtle possibility: What if the text is highlighting the paradox that cursing God is, in some twisted way, still a form of engagement with Him?
The opposite of love isn’t hate, it’s indifference. Job’s wife tells him to “bless” God (or “speak something against” God, as NETS translates) and die. She’s telling him to have it out with God one final time and then be done with it.
In this reading, “blessing” God to His face could mean confronting God directly, expressing the full force of one’s pain and anger, and then severing the relationship.
It’s not worship, but it’s not indifference either. It’s a final, furious engagement.
Job’s Wife: “Bless God and Die”
This brings us to Job 2:9, which is perhaps the most striking instance of the “bless/curse” paradox.
Job has lost everything. His children are dead. His wealth is gone. His body is covered in painful sores. He sits in the ash heap, scraping his skin with a piece of broken pottery.
And his wife— who has also lost everything, let’s not forget —looks at him and says:
MT (NRSV):
“Do you still persist in your integrity? Curse God, and die.”
LXX (Brenton):
“Hast thou still kept thine integrity? Bless God, and die.”
Now, we know what she means. She’s telling him to curse God. To renounce his integrity. To give up.
But the Hebrew word is barak: ”bless.”
And the Septuagint preserves that.
What Job’s Wife Is Really Saying
I think there’s a profound truth hidden in this word choice, whether it’s euphemistic or not.
Job’s wife isn’t telling him to blaspheme in a crude sense. She’s not saying, “Shake your fist at heaven and scream profanity.”
She’s saying: “Bless God one final time— go through the formula, say the words, complete the ritual —and then let go. Die. Stop fighting. Stop clinging to this relationship that has brought you nothing but suffering.”
It’s the counsel of despair. But it’s not the counsel of hatred.
She’s not saying God is evil. She’s saying God isn’t worth the pain. Better to offer a final, formal blessing— discharge your religious duty —and be done with it all.
“Bless God, and die.”
How Job Responds
Job’s response is telling:
Job 2:10 (NRSV):
“You speak as any foolish woman would speak. Shall we receive the good at the hand of God, and not receive the bad?”
Job doesn’t engage the “bless or curse” question directly. He doesn’t say, “I will never curse God!”
Instead, he reframes the entire issue. He challenges the transactional assumption underlying both Satan’s accusation and his wife’s counsel.
Job’s faith isn’t about receiving blessings in exchange for worship. It’s about the nature of the relationship itself.
“Shall we receive the good at the hand of God, and not receive the bad?”
This is the heart of the book. This is what Satan didn’t understand. This is what Job’s wife, in her grief, couldn’t see.
Job’s relationship with God isn’t a contract. It’s not “I’ll worship if You bless, and curse if You don’t.”
It’s covenant. It’s commitment. It’s trust even in the dark.
Early Christian Readings
The Church Fathers, reading the Septuagint, encountered this “bless” language and wrestled with it.
Didymus the Blind (c. 313-398 A.D.)
Didymus wrote a commentary on Job (now fragmentary) in which he addressed this very question. Why does the Greek text say “bless” when the meaning is clearly “curse”?
Didymus suggested that the text might be highlighting the hypocrisy of false worship. Satan predicts that Job will go through the motions of blessing God— maintaining the outward appearance of piety —while his heart has turned away.
Alternatively, Didymus noted that Greek readers familiar with the Hebrew Scriptures would have recognized this as a euphemistic usage. The reverent avoidance of writing “curse God” would have been understood.
Jerome (c. 347-420 A.D.)
Jerome, who translated the Bible into Latin (the Vulgate), worked from both the Hebrew and the Greek texts. He was deeply aware of textual differences between the Masoretic and Septuagint traditions.
In his Latin Vulgate, Jerome translated Job 1:11 and 2:5 using benedicet (”he will bless”), preserving the Hebrew euphemism. But he explained in his commentaries that this was a Hebrew idiom for cursing.
Even in Job 2:9, Jerome kept benedic Deo (”bless God”) in the Latin text, maintaining the euphemism in translation.
Jerome seemed to feel that the euphemism itself was theologically significant. That there was value in the text using “bless” rather than “curse” even when the meaning was clear.
What the Fathers Saw
The early Church, reading Job primarily in Greek or in Latin translations influenced by the Septuagint, encountered the book with this “bless” language intact.
And I think they saw something important in it.
They saw that the real test of faith isn’t whether you can avoid crude blasphemy. It’s whether your worship is genuine or transactional.
As I’m fond of saying, your heart posture is more important than adherence to ritual.
Which is why Satan doesn’t predict that Job will become a raging atheist. He predicts that Job’s blessings will become empty; that the form of worship will continue while the substance drains away.
And that’s a much more subtle, and much more dangerous, temptation.
A Both/And Reading
So which is it? Does “bless” mean “curse,” or does it mean something more complex?
This is where I think we need both the Masoretic and Septuagint traditions.
The Masoretic tradition, with its use of the euphemism, teaches us:
Reverence in how we speak about God
The importance of avoiding even the appearance of blasphemy
That the scribes who preserved Scripture approached it with profound respect
The Septuagint tradition, with its literal rendering, teaches us:
The danger of empty, hypocritical worship
That Satan’s accusation is more subtle than crude blasphemy
That the test of faith is whether our “blessings” are genuine
Both readings are true. Both are inspired. Both are necessary.
The Masoretic Text gives us the meaning. The Septuagint gives us the paradox.
And when you hold them together, you get a richer, deeper understanding of what’s really at stake in the book of Job.
What This Means for Us
Here’s the application for your life and mine.
Satan’s accusation against Job wasn’t that he would turn into an open rebel. It was that his worship was conditional. Transactional. “I’ll bless God as long as God blesses me.”
When you read it as “curse,” you think the test is about avoiding blasphemy. And that’s part of it.
But when you read it as “bless,” you realize the test is about the authenticity of your worship.
Will you keep saying the words when the benefits are gone?
Will you keep going through the motions when your heart is breaking?
Will your “blessings” become empty shells: technically correct, liturgically proper, but hollow at the core?
That’s what Satan predicted. That’s what he still predicts about all of us.
“Sure, they worship now. But take away the blessings, and watch what happens to their devotion. They’ll still go to church, maybe. They’ll still say the prayers. But it won’t mean anything. It’ll just be words.”
Job proved him wrong.
Not by avoiding cursing, but by continuing to genuinely bless.
“Shall we receive the good at the hand of God, and not receive the bad?”
That’s not resignation. That’s not grim determination.
That’s real worship. Worship that isn’t contingent on circumstances. Worship that flows from who God is, not just what He gives.
The Beauty of Comparing Texts
This is why I love comparing the Masoretic Text and the Septuagint.
It’s not about finding contradictions. It’s not about one being “right” and the other “wrong.”
It’s about seeing the same truth from different angles.
When you only read “curse,” you miss the question of authenticity.
When you only read “bless,” you miss the clarity of the euphemism.
But when you read them together, you get the full picture.
The Masoretic Text tells you what Job’s wife meant: “Curse God and die.”
The Septuagint tells you what she said: “Bless God and die.”
And in the gap between those two— between what’s meant and what’s said —there’s a world of theological depth about the nature of worship, the subtlety of temptation, and the authenticity of faith.
Discussion Questions:
Before reading this post, were you aware that the Hebrew text of Job uses “bless” euphemistically for “curse”? How does knowing this change your reading of Job 1-2?
If you read Job 2:9 as “Bless God and die” instead of “Curse God and die,” how does that change your understanding of what Job’s wife is saying to him?
Have you ever found yourself going through the motions of worship— saying the right words, performing the right actions —while your heart wasn’t fully engaged? What brought you back to authentic worship?
Satan predicts that Job’s worship is transactional. How do you guard against your own faith becoming conditional on God’s blessings?
What do you think of the idea that both the Masoretic and Septuagint readings contribute to our understanding? Does holding both traditions in tension enrich your faith, or does it create confusion?
If you’ve found this helpful or insightful, please share it with a friend who loves Scripture as much as you do.
Coming Up Next
In Part 2, we’ll examine something even more surprising: the Septuagint’s ending to the book of Job, which includes a stunning addition not found in any Hebrew manuscript. We’ll cover the genealogy that connects Job directly to Abraham and a shockingly explicit reference to the resurrection.
Where did this material come from? Why was it added? And what does it tell us about early Jewish and Christian understanding of Job’s story?
We’ll dive into all of that and more next week.
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Very interesting. I love how the LXX and MT come together to create a clearer picture.
Another similar situation is Isaac's proclomation over Esau in Genesi 27. The Hebrew says Esau received a "blessing." The Greek calls it a "curse." I'm guessing the Masorites had similar theological reasons for choosing "baruk" for both Genesis 27 and Job 1.