July 11 / Ecclesiastes 7-12

The “Teacher” (aka King Solomon) continues his arduous analysis of human experience “under the sun.” He holds up life and death to the light of the sun, like a precious stone, turning it in his hand to investigate every angle and note every reflection of light. His analysis is both profound, and wearisome! Is it possible to over-analyze life?

Chapters 7-12 drive us to his final conclusion about the whole matter, but there are plenty of exit ramps and on ramps before we get there. Chapter 7 begins with odd ruminations about death: “The day you die is better than the day you are born.” “Better to spend your time at funerals than at parties.” “A wise person thinks a lot about death, while a fool thinks only about having a good time.”

By that analysis, the world is full of fools! But why the preoccupation with death? It’s obvious when you think about it. Death is the elephant in the room for each of the living. It’s inevitable (like death and taxes). The grim reaper stalks us. So we put off thinking about our death until the last possible moment. Better to party! The Teacher observes, “It seems so tragic that everyone under the sun suffers the same fate. That is why people are not more careful to be good. Instead, they choose their own mad course, for they have no hope. There is nothing ahead but death anyway.”

But the Teacher sees value in sober reflection about inevitabilities: “Sorrow is better than laughter, for sadness has a refining influence on us.” We simply have to take the fact of death into account in any reckoning of life. This is the way to wisdom, even though “wisdom is always distant and difficult to find.”

Honesty and humility is a good starting place for the journey–especially acknowledging that “God created people to be virtuous, but they have each turned to follow their own downward path.” Furthermore, “The wicked will not prosper, for they do not fear God.”

If one’s life is tempered by the awareness of God, and the inevitability of judgment, one is then, ironically, free to enjoy life. “So I recommend having fun, because there is nothing better for people in this world than to eat, drink and enjoy life. That way they will experience some happiness along with all the hard work God gives them under the sun.”

So enjoy life, but don’t be foolish. The Teacher acknowledges that “the words of the wise are like cattle prods—painful but helpful.

He encourages the young: “Young people, it’s wonderful to be young! Enjoy every minute of it. Do everything you want to do; take it all in. But remember that you must give an account to God for everything you do.”

So the Teacher has seen it all and done it all. He is neither an idealist nor utopian thinker, but neither is he a nihilist. Although there is a lot of sadness in the world, we should not deny it or avoid it but allow ourselves to feel it—to let it temper us. As he has already warned us: “The greater my wisdom, the greater my grief. To increase knowledge only increases sorrow.”

The Teacher has now given us all the wisdom he has: “That’s the whole story. Here now is my final conclusion: Fear God and obey his commands, for this is everyone’s duty. God will judge us for everything we do, including every secret thing, whether good or bad.”

Prayer: Lord, the Teacher certainly describes life as we experience it, with all its joys and sorrows, as well as its mysteries and irony. But we know from the vantage point of the cross that you are with us. In Jesus, you have joined us in our sorrow and suffering and in the limitations of our humanity. Through him, we have seen your glory and your grace. Amen!

July 10 / Ecclesiastes 1-6

The book of Ecclesiastes, like Job and Proverbs is part of the wisdom literature of Israel. Like Proverbs, it is an exposition of how life works, but like Job it probes deeply into the complexity, mystery and frustration of human existence. Reading Ecclesiastes is a challenge because, on the surface, it is at times almost nihilistic—its recurring mantra is that “life is meaningless.”

The writer, who identifies himself as the “Teacher,” forces us to look at the truth about “life under the sun.” He relentlessly explores every pretentious attempt to find meaning in life apart from God. Before he comes to his final conclusion about life, he takes us with him to the playgrounds of the rich and famous, as well as to every dark alley, cul-de-sac and dead end of miserable humanity. If it sounds depressing, it is. But it’s also real. Once we stop pretending that the material world is enough, we are forced to admit that life without God means that nothing matters. And having come to this precipice, we are ready to hear the good news that everything matters because God is with us

Ecclesiastes begins, in chapter 1, with the “Teacher” introducing his thesis: “Everything is meaningless,” says the Teacher, “completely meaningless.” It is like chasing the wind. Generations come and go but nothing ever changes. History repeats itself with the same outcome—dissatisfaction. The Teacher (who boasts that he is wiser than any of the kings who ruled in Jerusalem before him) will make his case by setting out to “learn everything, from wisdom to madness and folly.” He’s taking nothing for granted. He’s going to try everything. But we are given a heads-up: “The greater my wisdom, the greater my grief. To increase knowledge only increases sorrow.”

In chapter 2, the Teacher reports on his pursuit of pleasure without limits. He spent money on wine, women and song—“Anything I wanted, I would take. I denied myself no pleasure.” But he concludes that it was all meaningless. Trying the opposite—to live with self-discipline and self-denial—he got no better results, so he cynically concludes that if both hedonism and asceticism are meaningless, he might as well be a hedonist. But then, a glimmer of insight: “Then I realized that these pleasures are from the hand of God. For who can eat or enjoy anything apart from him?”

In chapter 3, the Teacher reflects on the fact that “For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven.” Does this imply that life is a meaningless repetition, or does it suggest an order designed by God? He follows this thought: “I have seen the burden God has placed on us all. Yet God has made everything beautiful for its own time. He has planted eternity in the human heart, but even so, people cannot see the whole scope of God’s work from beginning to end.” So then, perhaps we should eat, drink and be merry, and consider that all the pleasures of life are gifts of God. But keep in mind “In due season God will judge everyone, both good and bad for all their deeds.”

Chapter 4 explores the varieties of human tragedy: There are the “tears of the oppressed with no one to comfort them.” There is the case of those “who are all alone.” There is also the emptiness of success.

Chapter 5 surveys thoughtless religion, restless activity, rash promises, abuse of power, and the perils of wealth. There is also the sobering reality that “People leave this world no better off than when they came.”

Chapter 6 revisits the perils of wealth. A man works hard to earn it and then dies young before he can enjoy it. But even if he lives to an old age, he may finish his life an unhappy man. Again we see that we have no control over these things. There’s no use arguing with God about our destiny: “Enjoy what you have rather than desiring what you don’t have. Just dreaming about nice things is meaningless—like chasing the wind.”

Prayer: Lord, we are reminded that we have far less control over our lives than we think. Help us to accept what you give, and find pleasure in the life you have ordained for each of us. There is so much we don’t understand, but we trust in you. Amen.