The Kin Of Qoheleth
Sermon
Sermons on the Gospel Readings
Series II, Cycle B
Today's Gospel Reading is from Mark, but I want to begin in the Old Testament. It will bring us, in good time, to the Mark reading.
If you study the Bible for very long, you soon learn that it is not one homogenous book but a collection of many books by many different authors who wrote, in some cases, as much as 1,000 years apart. You may also know that during the long period covered by the Bible, there were many written documents available. So who decided which of them became Holy Scripture and which did not?
According to the sketchy information we have, while some parts of the Old Testament were established as scripture at least by 400 B.C., and while most of the Old Testament was in use as scripture during the time of Jesus, the full 39 Old Testament books that are in our Bibles today weren't set as scripture until about ninety years after the birth of Christ at a council of rabbis held in the town of Jamnia in central Israel.1
And there is a strange notion that seems to have guided the rabbis in setting the final list, which is called the "canon" of the Old Testament. There was a conviction among them that God had ceased to speak in a direct voice to the Jews from about the fourth century B.C. onward. Before that time, there were the prophets who thundered with "Thus saith the Lord ..." but after that time, so these rabbis concluded, God's communication was less direct. Because of that, they decided that only books written before about 400 B.C. could be considered for scripture. That's why there are a number of books included in what's called the Apocrypha, which probably deserve to be considered scripture but are not, because they were composed in the 400 years between the close of the Old Testament and the opening of the New Testament.
This idea that God stopped speaking directly about 400 B.C. helps to explain how Ecclesiastes came to be included in the Bible. Here's what happened: Those ancient rabbis did not have the kinds of tools we have today to date old manuscripts, so they had to rely on what the documents said to decide whether they were before or after the 400 B.C. mark. Regarding books with sufficient religious value, if the author was known, the rabbis could date the book according to when the author lived, but if the author was unknown, they looked to see if there was any evidence to attribute it to one of the great figures who did live within the period of inspiration.2
In the case of Ecclesiastes, no name is attached, but the book opens with "The words of the Teacher, son of David, king of Jerusalem." Because of that "son of David" identifier, it seemed reasonable then that the writer could have been King Solomon, and so the book made it into the canon.
Today, however, with better research techniques and more language study, most Bible scholars conclude that actually, the author cannot be identified. In fact, there is considerable evidence in the language structure of the book that it was written at a later date than Solomon's era. For convenience, the scholars usually refer to the author simply as Qoheleth, which is the Hebrew word translated "teacher" in the book's opening sentence.
Okay, so it was the assumption that Solomon was the author that made Ecclesiastes acceptable for consideration, but what made the rabbis decide it was of sufficient religious value? I say that because in its outlook on human existence and on the meaning of life, Ecclesiastes is so unlike all the rest of the biblical material that it seems, well, almost unbiblical.
As one example, virtually all of the rest of the Bible has a sense that although humans cannot see the future, God has a plan for the future that we can know about -- not in detail, mind you, but at least in the sense of having confidence in a final victory over evil and the coming of the full kingdom of God.
In contrast to that, the author of Ecclesiastes, while acknowledging that humans have a sort of sixth sense through which we catch some intimation of eternity, says that we cannot know what God has in mind.
As another example, whereas most other biblical books say or imply that the meaning of life is at least attached to serving God and doing his will, the writer of Ecclesiastes can find no ultimate meaning in life.
He concludes that if there are answers to life's ultimate questions, they cannot be perceived by the human mind.
Further, although the author acknowledges the existence of God -- as one to stand before in awe -- he never talks about having any kind of personal relationship to God.
In short, in contrast to the balance of the biblical material, Ecclesiastes is practically a book of unfaith.
And boy, am I glad it is in the Bible.
Here's why: On any given Sunday there are always some people in churches around the world who are there with deep reservations about what is going on and what is being said. These are people who listen to the creeds and the sermons and the words of the hymns and the testimonies of the faith-filled and in their minds say, "I just don't buy it."
When pressed they may go on to say something like: "Yes, I hear you say you believe and that you experience God in your heart. I'm sorry, but I don't have that experience. You look at life and see the activity of God; I look at life and see only cycles of the same old stuff, a mix of good and bad, and if all of it has any meaning, I can't see it." By and large, these folks are not antagonistic to the church. Many have been raised in the church and some continue to attend out of habit or to please another person or even in the faint hope that one Sunday, something will click for them. But they really aren't expecting that.
If any of this describes you or someone you care about, you can take comfort from the fact that at least one book of the Bible comes at these matters of faith, at God, and at the meaning of life from a similar skeptical viewpoint, and it never changes its view, right up to the very end of the book. Maybe that is why God inspired those ancient rabbis to put Ecclesiastes in the authorized list of scripture, because he cares about skeptics, too.
Now whoever Qoheleth was, he apparently had enough wealth that he did not have to spend his days grubbing in the soil for his daily bread or toiling away at some low-paying, mind-numbing repetitive job. He had sufficient income that he could experiment with a life of ease, pleasure, pursuit of education, indulgence in the things that caught his fancy, and so forth. But he was no dilettante; he apparently took the time to consider deeply the ramifications of his way of life, and he even investigated the claims of religion as a serious seeker after the truth. He tried all these things, but found none of them ultimately satisfying.
Still, he arrived at a couple of conclusions, and in Ecclesiastes 3, Qoheleth tells us about them. Give a listen: (Read 3:1-15.) First, he offers this poetic listing of observations about contrasts, that everything from birthing to dying, from planting to uprooting, from weeping to laughing, and so forth has an appropriate time in life. Then, in his commentary that follows, Qoheleth says, "[God] has made everything suitable for its time," but adds, in effect, that no one of them is sufficient for all time.
Qoheleth goes on to say that God has put "a sense of past and future" in our minds -- some inner sense that there is more to this life than what our five senses can perceive, a sense we might call "spirituality." But then he says that this sense is not strong enough to really let us connect with God with any clarity. The way he puts it is that we "cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end."
In the face of this unsatisfiable spiritual yearning, Qoheleth nonetheless comes to the two conclusions:
First, that life itself is a good thing. He has no sense that there is any kind of afterlife; as far has he is concerned, once you die, it is all over. Still, the life we have here is a good thing, he says, and we should be appreciative of it, enjoying our times to eat together and taking pleasure from our daily work and accomplishments, even though none of them will last forever.
Second, whatever we can or can't know about God, God has given us our lives and so we "should stand in awe before him." He doesn't spell out how he means we should do that -- whether he is talking about attending worship services or daily prayer, or simply acknowledging that God has the last word and we are all subject to whatever God decides for us. But he does at least acknowledge God, even if he can't figure out what God is up to.
Now from the standpoint of both the Old Testament's Judaism or the New Testament's Christianity, Qoheleth's conclusions are a pretty thin theology -- thin, but not bad theology. Those for whom faith comes more easily might wish that he were more positive in his testimony and more confident of God's intentions for the world. But given that Qoheleth's intellectual honesty, experience, and observations would not let him embrace the more hope-filled and more theologically developed faith of mainstream religion, he is still considered worth listening to by those ancient rabbis.
I take a lot of comfort in that. For what it means is that those of us who have quiet doubts or whose intellectual integrity will not let us submit to all the claims of organized religion are not cast away from God's presence -- that like Qoheleth, we too are children of God, even if what we can truthfully affirm about God is less than a full statement of faith or a full doctrinal creed.
Now here is where our Gospel Reading from Mark comes in. It gives us another perspective on this. Jesus is out in public, speaking with a crowd. A scribe, a Bible scholar of that day, overhears and notices that Jesus is giving good answers to the crowd's questions, so he poses one of his own. He asks Jesus which commandment is greatest of all.
Jesus responds by quoting from Deuteronomy 6:4-5, where it says you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, and strength. But Jesus expands the verse by including "with all your mind." Jesus is aware that intellectual honesty is one of the roads to the kingdom of God.
He then goes on to state the second most important command, "You shall love your neighbor as yourself."
Hearing Jesus' answer, this scribe quickly agrees that Jesus is right on these two points. At that, Jesus responds to the scribe with a very significant observation: "You are not far from the kingdom of God."
What an important statement that is! The scribe has not stated the first-century equivalent of the Nicene Creed. He has not signed onto any doctrinal declaration. He has not identified himself as the member of the Jesus club or asked to be a disciple. He has simply agreed that to love God with his heart, soul, and mind and to love his neighbor as himself is the centrality of religion. And because of that, Jesus said he was not far from the kingdom of God.
It should be noted that as a group, the scribes were generally hostile to Jesus, and there is no reason to think that this scribe was any exception. Yet, in finding a common ground of belief about what is important, Jesus is able to praise this scribe for his clear-eyed understanding and affirm that he is on the right road. He recognizes the scribe as a pilgrim moving in the right direction.
Admittedly, saying that the man was "not far" from the kingdom isn't exactly the same as saying he was "in" the kingdom, but then who of us can claim to have "arrived" at the gospel truth in every aspect of our lives? In reality, all of us here today are spiritual pilgrims on a journey toward the kingdom. Like Qoheleth, we all have times when we can't figure out what God is up to. And yet, our honest skepticism and doubt can be tools for faith, for they at least point us to the place where we feel the need of an answer.
Not long ago, I saw a saying on a sign in front of a church that made me look at it twice, for I realized it had three meanings, one of which I doubt the people who put the words there intended -- at least I hope they didn't. It said, "When you come to your wit's end, there you will find Christ." Unfortunately, that could be taken to mean, "You have to stop thinking to find Christ." Sorry, but the Bible does not support that view!
Rather, what I suspect they meant was either 1) that when you reach the end of your own resources, Christ's resources have just begun, or 2) that clear thought and the simple affirmations we can honestly make can take us toward Christ. Faith in Christ is a step beyond where thought can go, but it is not a step in the wrong direction. (They need to find a way to say that unambiguously on their sign, however.)
So if you are kin to Qoheleth or this New Testament scribe, or if you have friends or loved ones who are wrestling with honest objections to the faith, take heart that even people like them are allowed to speak as part of the inspiration of the Bible. To them, and any of us like them, Jesus says, "Welcome, Pilgrim."
____________
1.ÊWilliam Barclay, Introducing the Bible (Nashville: Abingdon Festival Edition, 1979; © 1972 by Bible Reading Fellowship), p. 40.
2.ÊIbid., p. 39.
If you study the Bible for very long, you soon learn that it is not one homogenous book but a collection of many books by many different authors who wrote, in some cases, as much as 1,000 years apart. You may also know that during the long period covered by the Bible, there were many written documents available. So who decided which of them became Holy Scripture and which did not?
According to the sketchy information we have, while some parts of the Old Testament were established as scripture at least by 400 B.C., and while most of the Old Testament was in use as scripture during the time of Jesus, the full 39 Old Testament books that are in our Bibles today weren't set as scripture until about ninety years after the birth of Christ at a council of rabbis held in the town of Jamnia in central Israel.1
And there is a strange notion that seems to have guided the rabbis in setting the final list, which is called the "canon" of the Old Testament. There was a conviction among them that God had ceased to speak in a direct voice to the Jews from about the fourth century B.C. onward. Before that time, there were the prophets who thundered with "Thus saith the Lord ..." but after that time, so these rabbis concluded, God's communication was less direct. Because of that, they decided that only books written before about 400 B.C. could be considered for scripture. That's why there are a number of books included in what's called the Apocrypha, which probably deserve to be considered scripture but are not, because they were composed in the 400 years between the close of the Old Testament and the opening of the New Testament.
This idea that God stopped speaking directly about 400 B.C. helps to explain how Ecclesiastes came to be included in the Bible. Here's what happened: Those ancient rabbis did not have the kinds of tools we have today to date old manuscripts, so they had to rely on what the documents said to decide whether they were before or after the 400 B.C. mark. Regarding books with sufficient religious value, if the author was known, the rabbis could date the book according to when the author lived, but if the author was unknown, they looked to see if there was any evidence to attribute it to one of the great figures who did live within the period of inspiration.2
In the case of Ecclesiastes, no name is attached, but the book opens with "The words of the Teacher, son of David, king of Jerusalem." Because of that "son of David" identifier, it seemed reasonable then that the writer could have been King Solomon, and so the book made it into the canon.
Today, however, with better research techniques and more language study, most Bible scholars conclude that actually, the author cannot be identified. In fact, there is considerable evidence in the language structure of the book that it was written at a later date than Solomon's era. For convenience, the scholars usually refer to the author simply as Qoheleth, which is the Hebrew word translated "teacher" in the book's opening sentence.
Okay, so it was the assumption that Solomon was the author that made Ecclesiastes acceptable for consideration, but what made the rabbis decide it was of sufficient religious value? I say that because in its outlook on human existence and on the meaning of life, Ecclesiastes is so unlike all the rest of the biblical material that it seems, well, almost unbiblical.
As one example, virtually all of the rest of the Bible has a sense that although humans cannot see the future, God has a plan for the future that we can know about -- not in detail, mind you, but at least in the sense of having confidence in a final victory over evil and the coming of the full kingdom of God.
In contrast to that, the author of Ecclesiastes, while acknowledging that humans have a sort of sixth sense through which we catch some intimation of eternity, says that we cannot know what God has in mind.
As another example, whereas most other biblical books say or imply that the meaning of life is at least attached to serving God and doing his will, the writer of Ecclesiastes can find no ultimate meaning in life.
He concludes that if there are answers to life's ultimate questions, they cannot be perceived by the human mind.
Further, although the author acknowledges the existence of God -- as one to stand before in awe -- he never talks about having any kind of personal relationship to God.
In short, in contrast to the balance of the biblical material, Ecclesiastes is practically a book of unfaith.
And boy, am I glad it is in the Bible.
Here's why: On any given Sunday there are always some people in churches around the world who are there with deep reservations about what is going on and what is being said. These are people who listen to the creeds and the sermons and the words of the hymns and the testimonies of the faith-filled and in their minds say, "I just don't buy it."
When pressed they may go on to say something like: "Yes, I hear you say you believe and that you experience God in your heart. I'm sorry, but I don't have that experience. You look at life and see the activity of God; I look at life and see only cycles of the same old stuff, a mix of good and bad, and if all of it has any meaning, I can't see it." By and large, these folks are not antagonistic to the church. Many have been raised in the church and some continue to attend out of habit or to please another person or even in the faint hope that one Sunday, something will click for them. But they really aren't expecting that.
If any of this describes you or someone you care about, you can take comfort from the fact that at least one book of the Bible comes at these matters of faith, at God, and at the meaning of life from a similar skeptical viewpoint, and it never changes its view, right up to the very end of the book. Maybe that is why God inspired those ancient rabbis to put Ecclesiastes in the authorized list of scripture, because he cares about skeptics, too.
Now whoever Qoheleth was, he apparently had enough wealth that he did not have to spend his days grubbing in the soil for his daily bread or toiling away at some low-paying, mind-numbing repetitive job. He had sufficient income that he could experiment with a life of ease, pleasure, pursuit of education, indulgence in the things that caught his fancy, and so forth. But he was no dilettante; he apparently took the time to consider deeply the ramifications of his way of life, and he even investigated the claims of religion as a serious seeker after the truth. He tried all these things, but found none of them ultimately satisfying.
Still, he arrived at a couple of conclusions, and in Ecclesiastes 3, Qoheleth tells us about them. Give a listen: (Read 3:1-15.) First, he offers this poetic listing of observations about contrasts, that everything from birthing to dying, from planting to uprooting, from weeping to laughing, and so forth has an appropriate time in life. Then, in his commentary that follows, Qoheleth says, "[God] has made everything suitable for its time," but adds, in effect, that no one of them is sufficient for all time.
Qoheleth goes on to say that God has put "a sense of past and future" in our minds -- some inner sense that there is more to this life than what our five senses can perceive, a sense we might call "spirituality." But then he says that this sense is not strong enough to really let us connect with God with any clarity. The way he puts it is that we "cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end."
In the face of this unsatisfiable spiritual yearning, Qoheleth nonetheless comes to the two conclusions:
First, that life itself is a good thing. He has no sense that there is any kind of afterlife; as far has he is concerned, once you die, it is all over. Still, the life we have here is a good thing, he says, and we should be appreciative of it, enjoying our times to eat together and taking pleasure from our daily work and accomplishments, even though none of them will last forever.
Second, whatever we can or can't know about God, God has given us our lives and so we "should stand in awe before him." He doesn't spell out how he means we should do that -- whether he is talking about attending worship services or daily prayer, or simply acknowledging that God has the last word and we are all subject to whatever God decides for us. But he does at least acknowledge God, even if he can't figure out what God is up to.
Now from the standpoint of both the Old Testament's Judaism or the New Testament's Christianity, Qoheleth's conclusions are a pretty thin theology -- thin, but not bad theology. Those for whom faith comes more easily might wish that he were more positive in his testimony and more confident of God's intentions for the world. But given that Qoheleth's intellectual honesty, experience, and observations would not let him embrace the more hope-filled and more theologically developed faith of mainstream religion, he is still considered worth listening to by those ancient rabbis.
I take a lot of comfort in that. For what it means is that those of us who have quiet doubts or whose intellectual integrity will not let us submit to all the claims of organized religion are not cast away from God's presence -- that like Qoheleth, we too are children of God, even if what we can truthfully affirm about God is less than a full statement of faith or a full doctrinal creed.
Now here is where our Gospel Reading from Mark comes in. It gives us another perspective on this. Jesus is out in public, speaking with a crowd. A scribe, a Bible scholar of that day, overhears and notices that Jesus is giving good answers to the crowd's questions, so he poses one of his own. He asks Jesus which commandment is greatest of all.
Jesus responds by quoting from Deuteronomy 6:4-5, where it says you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, and strength. But Jesus expands the verse by including "with all your mind." Jesus is aware that intellectual honesty is one of the roads to the kingdom of God.
He then goes on to state the second most important command, "You shall love your neighbor as yourself."
Hearing Jesus' answer, this scribe quickly agrees that Jesus is right on these two points. At that, Jesus responds to the scribe with a very significant observation: "You are not far from the kingdom of God."
What an important statement that is! The scribe has not stated the first-century equivalent of the Nicene Creed. He has not signed onto any doctrinal declaration. He has not identified himself as the member of the Jesus club or asked to be a disciple. He has simply agreed that to love God with his heart, soul, and mind and to love his neighbor as himself is the centrality of religion. And because of that, Jesus said he was not far from the kingdom of God.
It should be noted that as a group, the scribes were generally hostile to Jesus, and there is no reason to think that this scribe was any exception. Yet, in finding a common ground of belief about what is important, Jesus is able to praise this scribe for his clear-eyed understanding and affirm that he is on the right road. He recognizes the scribe as a pilgrim moving in the right direction.
Admittedly, saying that the man was "not far" from the kingdom isn't exactly the same as saying he was "in" the kingdom, but then who of us can claim to have "arrived" at the gospel truth in every aspect of our lives? In reality, all of us here today are spiritual pilgrims on a journey toward the kingdom. Like Qoheleth, we all have times when we can't figure out what God is up to. And yet, our honest skepticism and doubt can be tools for faith, for they at least point us to the place where we feel the need of an answer.
Not long ago, I saw a saying on a sign in front of a church that made me look at it twice, for I realized it had three meanings, one of which I doubt the people who put the words there intended -- at least I hope they didn't. It said, "When you come to your wit's end, there you will find Christ." Unfortunately, that could be taken to mean, "You have to stop thinking to find Christ." Sorry, but the Bible does not support that view!
Rather, what I suspect they meant was either 1) that when you reach the end of your own resources, Christ's resources have just begun, or 2) that clear thought and the simple affirmations we can honestly make can take us toward Christ. Faith in Christ is a step beyond where thought can go, but it is not a step in the wrong direction. (They need to find a way to say that unambiguously on their sign, however.)
So if you are kin to Qoheleth or this New Testament scribe, or if you have friends or loved ones who are wrestling with honest objections to the faith, take heart that even people like them are allowed to speak as part of the inspiration of the Bible. To them, and any of us like them, Jesus says, "Welcome, Pilgrim."
____________
1.ÊWilliam Barclay, Introducing the Bible (Nashville: Abingdon Festival Edition, 1979; © 1972 by Bible Reading Fellowship), p. 40.
2.ÊIbid., p. 39.
