As a Man Comes, So he Departs

As a Man Comes, So he Departs

Ecclesiastes Chapters 4-6

 

The Tears of the Oppressed

These three chapters contain a collection of thoughts generally related to wealth. The profound skepticism of the Ecclesiast introduced in the first three chapters continues in this investigation of the value of any earthly exercise. The section starts out with a discussion of oppression (4:1) then introduces the value of community (4:10). Finally, there is an extended section on ultimate value (5:11).

Certainly we must pay careful attention to the concern the Ecclesiast expresses for the oppressed. Our Lord announced (Luke 4:16-21) and confirmed (Luke 7:18-23) his ministry in terms of his service to the poor, the disadvantaged, and the oppressed. If we have any ministry at all it must be defined in the same terms.

In the West, we are nearly all wealthy by the standards of the world, and most of us espouse a work ethic based on the idea that the Lord helps those that help themselves. While there may be some truth to the idea at some times, as a maxim it does not stand up to even modest scrutiny. Our piety does not ensure our prosperity, nor does the suffering of others signal their sin. Our God will have mercy on whom he will have mercy (Exodus 33:19).

And so, if the fate of the oppressed is no fault of their own, what business is it of ours? The Ecclesiast tells us that all of the wealthy are complicit in the oppression of the poor (5:8-9). Though we may each work hard for what we have, it is the nature of our value system that what we have is not had by others. Until we live in a perfect system, the comfort we earn for ourselves is also paid for by the oppression of others.

You Cannot Take it with You

Two similar passages deal with the ephemeral nature of wealth (5:10-17; 6:7-11). Acquisition leads to acquisition. Satiety is so illusive and so fleeting that pursuit is constant. Such realization prompted Paul to declare, not material things themselves, but the desire for them, to be the impetus of all sorts of evil (1 Timothy 6:7-11). And what we can acquire we cannot keep. Wealth is a thing of this world and will not pass into the next. The Ecclesiast observes the futility of this, but rests in the assurance that true gifts come from God (James 1:17) who can bless our transitory existence with lasting meaning (5:18-20).

Will God, then, clear for us our consciences and allow us to enjoy our riches? The Biblical evidence against this egregiously facetious postulation is overwhelming. The idea, in fact, is foolish, in a very serious sense of the term (Luke 12:16-21). This parable suggests the idea of “laying up” treasures in heaven (Matthew 6:19-21). But how do we on earth establish treasure in heaven?

Then shall the righteous answer him, saying, Lord, when saw we thee hungry, and fed thee? or thirsty, and gave thee drink? When saw we thee a stranger, and took thee in? or naked, and clothed thee? Or when saw we thee sick, or in prison, and came unto thee? And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me. (Matthew 25:37-40 KJV)

 

A Time for every Purpose

A Time for every Purpose

Ecclesiastes Chapters 1-3

 

The Ecclesiast

The title of the book comes from the title the author applies to himself. In Hebrew, this word is Koheleth, or more lately Qohelet. The root of this word is “assembly” and the word Ecclesiastes comes to us from the Hebrew through Greek translation and Latin transliteration. As translated, the word means “one of the assembly” but the original Hebrew apparently meant one who addresses the assembly (thus the common translation “teacher” or “preacher”) or perhaps “one who assembles”; the latter placing more emphasis on the role as seeker, rather than disseminator, of knowledge.

The original Hebrew is in feminine form, a form which is not used outside of Ecclesiastes, but the significance of this form is not apparent, as the author clearly identifies himself as a king, and a son of David. From the authors description of himself, it has been assumed that he was, in fact, King Solomon (1:1; 1:12; 1:16). Within the book, the importance of the Ecclesiast as king is the access to wisdom offered by that office, as it is this role of searcher which most importantly defines the author (1:3; 1:13; 1:17).

Vanity!

The object of this search is the meaning of life (1:3) and from the outset, the verdict of the Ecclesiast is that all our struggle is in vain (1:2; 1:4-11). The word hebel means transitory, empty, or unsatisfactory. It is the name of Abel, the second son of Adam and Eve, whose transitory life spanned but a few verses. What the Ecclesiast means by the term is the subject of our study.

As he observes that there is nothing new under the sun, we must consider the conclusion that there can be nothing new – what will be has been before and what we do will not be long remembered. Though he cannot bring himself to say that a life lived wisely is no better than a life of folly, he observes that each end the same (2:12-16). In this observation he is aligned with Job, who has observed that a live of wealth and health ends in the same way as a life of poverty and affliction (Job 21:23-26).

He Has Made Everything Beautiful

The pivot of this discourse is a passage that is surely the best known of the book, one familiar even to those who do not recognize it as scripture (3:1-8). “To everything there is a season.”¹ These are often used as words of comfort: assurance that the current trial will pass or that the waited day will come and that whatever we experience is known to everyone who has come before and who will come after. As a theological philosophy, however, it contains as much terror as hope: not only will the life we have been given be taken away, but between that time and this weeping, hating and mourning are as certain as laughing, loving, and dancing. That is life under the sun.

But the Ecclesiast sees something else under the sun: the judgment of God (3:15-17). Though by nature we have the vanity of animals (3:18-21) within that nature is the likeness of the divine (Genesis 1:26-31). Alone among creation we have a sense of our place, even if an understanding is beyond our grasp (3:11). It is the gift of God to bring meaning to our lives; to make everything beautiful in its own time; to give us joy that transcends our existence (2:24; 3:12-13; 3:22).

1Some who do recognize this as scripture are surprised that the words “turn, turn, turn” are missing from their translations.

Brace Yourself

Brace Yourself

Job Chapters 38-42

 

I Will Question You

Again and again Job has called out for an opportunity to plead his case before God (9:32-35; 13:20-23; 19:7; 23:1-5). In this final section, this audience is granted with enigmatic abruptness as God speaks to Job out of “the storm” (38:1). It is sometimes suggested that this storm is the one of which Elihu spoke (37:14-16) and that, in this sense at least, the speech of Elihu serves to usher in the presence of God. As an alternative, the sudden appearance of God in an unanticipated and unexplained storm may serve to emphasize the disconnection, in terms of causality and discourse, of the previous events from the current encounter – the disconnect of theology and theophany.

There is certainly a disconnect of expectation and experience, as Job, who has expected an opportunity to confront God with questions of justice and piety, is himself questioned by God. The questions at first seem to put Job in his place and to castigate him with severe sarcasm (38:4-5). But it is irony, not sarcasm, that is the principal device of Job. As a rhetorical device, irony is the deliberate contrast between apparent and intended meaning. The irony here is very subtle, as the challenges “Where were you?” and “Surely you know!” are not taunts from the Mighty to the weak, nor do they simply state the limit of human knowledge. Instead, they point us to the knowledge we do have. We were not present at creation – only God was and only God could be. These questions of God put us in our place only as a natural, secondary consequence of their primary function to leave God in God’s place.

These questions show, as we have already seen, that God is the creator of the world. From this point they withdraw further to show us that God is the origin of even the abstract essentials of existence: the source of life and death, and the definition of good and evil (38:16-21). Further, the questions show that the God who was the source, is the source: the God who moves the constellations through their seasons and watches the doe bear her fawn (38:31-33; 39:1-4). In contrast, we, who would aspire to the knowledge and power of God, are not even masters of the physical world (40:15-41:5).

I Despise Myself

Job’s response to God comes in two stages. To begin with, he simply states that there is no way he can answer God (40:1-5). In itself, the response is not very revealing of Job’s state of mind. He has anticipated his inability to answer (9:14-20) but in a context which it is clear that he has the desire to answer. Here, the hand he places over his mouth may indicate that the desire to respond is still within him, even in the revealed presence of God.

In addition to quotations from the speeches of God, Job’s second response (42:1-5) contains these three statements:

1. There are things I cannot know.
2. I have seen you.
3. I despise myself.

The first of these is a major theme of the book. Eliphaz, Bildad, Zophar, and Elihu are all certain that they understand the plan of God and the order of the universe. With this understanding they condemn Job of sin on the evidence of his suffering (4:7-8). Job has been robbed of this certainty, and is seeking a new understanding of our relationship with God (31:2). Job’s second statement, that he has heard and seen God, is not a literal statement of fact, but a confession of his faith in the will of God, faith that is born of his experience with the presence of God.

The final statement is more enigmatic. Could we say that Job has finally made the confession his friends have argued for, and is ready to turn from his sinful ways? How would we reconcile such an interpretation with the entirety of Job’s response, or, indeed, with the entirety of the book of Job?

We ordinarily think of the word “repent” as meaning to turn (shûb) in the sense that we turn from our sin towards our God (Ezekiel 14:6). The word that is used here (nâcham) has a different meaning. In the rest of the book of Job, it is translated “comfort” (2:11). In our modern usage, we have lost almost all notion of any positive aspect of sorrow, but that is what the usage here suggests: a regret that is not empty, but has a definite purpose.

In context, we might understand this purpose as involved in Job’s recognition of the order of the universe. He has been searching for, and his friends have assumed, an order that avails itself to the earthly idea of justice, but he now confesses that the only order is of the Creator and the creation. He is therefore ready to reject (mâ’as 8:20) himself that he might be himself (Matthew 16:24-25).

Epilogue

In the closing verses of the book, God acknowledges the innocence that Job has continually professed, and that God himself has ascribed to him from the beginning (1:8). After Job intercedes for his friends, God blesses his later life even more than his early life. It is so tempting to see this blessing as reward for Job’s patience and justification of his innocence, but such an idea is completely contrary to the “moral” of the book of Job. Our interaction with our God is not transactional: our patience does not require God’s blessing; our innocence does not require God’s justification. The blessings are a free act of the Sovereign Lord.

The book of Job has rejected any notion that we may discover and determine the will of the Almighty God. Our doctrine does not describe God; our theology does not define God. God is God (Exodus 3:13-14; Isaiah 46:9). But we cannot discover is not withheld from us. Where reason fails, revelation prevails. All we can know, we know by faith.

For I know that my redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth: And though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God: Whom I shall see for myself, and mine eyes shall behold, and not another; though my reins be consumed within me. (Job 19:25-27 KJV)

Bear with Me a Little Longer

Bear with Me a Little Longer

Job Chapters 32-37

 

Without warning or introduction of any kind, Elihu bursts on our scene with the energy and certainty that are only available to the young. The natural response of respect towards the aged has recurring mention in the Book of Job (12:12; 15:9-10; 29:7-8). As it has before (12:2) the ironic nature of the book of Job takes the form of sharp-tonged sarcasm as Elihu with great impatience explains that he has waited patiently while his wise elders have shown their ignorance (32:10-12). This torture has left Elihu bursting with response (32:15-33:2).

But for all his bluster, when Elihu does begin to speak he has nothing new to say. If Elihu claims divine inspiration (32:7-9; 32:18; 36:3-4) then so has Eliphaz (4:12-16). If he attributes the suffering of Job to the discipline of God (33:29-30) then Eliphaz has preceded him in this, as well (5:17-26). If Elihu clings to the theology of retribution (36:5-12) then this is the line of argument taken by each predecessor in turn (4:7-9; 8:20; 11:11-15).

Why, then, have Elihu’s comments been included in the book? He is not mentioned until he introduces himself, and is not referred to after he concludes his speech. Since he adds no argument, his chapters could be excised with little consequence to the overall discourse. This fact in itself, along with some stylistic differences between his section and those that surround it, have lead some to conclude that Elihu is a later addition. This, however, is not an answer to our question; we must believe in scripture as a revelatory process beginning with inspiration and continuing through the copying and preservation of manuscripts, through the selection of Canon, through translation to modern languages, and finally through each inspired reading. Elihu is present in our scripture and we must seek meaning from his contribution.

Though Elihu does not add any new argument, the presence of the Elihu speeches does contribute to the ironic tension of the book. The author has had Job speak from the height of wisdom in Chapter 28 only to return to uncertainty in the following chapters. This uncertainty is emphasized by the restatement of a theology that sounds reasonable, presented by one who claims divine inspiration, and who certainly has profound insight (33:14).

There is also value in the complete “newness” of Elihu’s character. When the “friends” speak, we are affronted by their disregard for the person of Job. We have the very witness of God that Job is completely blameless (1:8). The friends were not privy to this witness, but they did know Job, and they knew that the wickedness of which they accused him was completely imagined (22:4-11). This disrespect draws us into the moment of Job’s abandonment; we see the attitude of the friends as a part of Job’s torment. Elihu provides a dispassionate view that allows us to focus more critically on the transactional theology that is directly addressed by ironic nature of the book of Job.

The doctrine of retribution is not without Biblical basis. Both the Old and the New Testament bear witness to the favor provided those who live within the will of God (Deuteronomy 12:28; John 15:9-17) and the curse that falls upon those who desert that will (Jeremiah 9:13-16; Matthew 5:22). If the irony of Job is a condemnation of an understanding of God, then where did that understanding go wrong?

We might say that the error was simply logical. There is a form of logic called syllogism:

All humans are mortal.

Socrates is human.

Therefore, Socrates is mortal.

There is a type logical (syllogistic) fallacy called the fallacy of the undistributed middle:

All humans are mortal.

My cat is mortal.

Therefore, my cat is human.

The logical fallacy of Job might be as follows:

The wicked are punished.

Job is punished.

Therefore, Job is wicked.

This is certainly the fallacious argument that arose from the theology contemporary with Job, and which prevails today. But if our errors were merely logical would not the prophets be logicians?

To understand the deeper error we must listen to Elihu (and Bildad before him) state that God cannot pervert justice (34:10-12; 8:3). Surely, there is no statement more true than this. Still, it is far from a complete revelation of God.

God is constrained by the justice of God, and not by the doctrine of man. Elihu gives us a hint of this error when he invites us to decide for ourselves what is right (34:1-4) but the full perversion of this theology is revealed in the words of Eliphaz (22:15-20) where it is no longer the wicked, or those who oppose God, but “our foes” whom God destroys. This is the heresy of transactional theology: a god who must reward our piety and destroy our enemies is a god that is completely under our control.

What Is Man’s Lot?

What Is Man’s Lot?

Job Chapters 29-31

 

When I Was in my Prime

The dialogue with his friends having finally failed, Job in our current passage continues his second soliloquy. As it is reintroduced here in Chapter 29, Job’s speech is described in our modern translations as a discourse, a word which can simply mean speech, but more often refers to an argument, in the sense of a reasoned, progressive presentation, or a line of thinking which presents and defends some proposition. The more venerable translations use the world proverb, and in fact the Hebrew is the same as that of the book of Proverbs. The word is also translated parable, as when God gives Ezekiel the parable of the pot of choice bones (Ezekiel 24:1-6). Our author draws on all these ideas to suggest to us that the speech is significant, and should be considered carefully for the message it contains.

Without this consideration, we might be inclined to read the current chapters as the piteous groanings of a man who formerly enjoyed wealth and power and perhaps enjoyed them a bit too much. Job begins in longing for days gone by, when he enjoyed the favor of his God, and wealth came to him so freely that it was as though the rocks poured out rivers of oil. Not only was he wealthy, but he was respected by young and old, and even the chiefs and nobles deferred to him.

It would be easy to join his friends and condemn Job for dependence on worldly comfort and for the value he placed on the regard of men. From the same information, however, we might form a more charitable portrait of a man who was respected because he employed his wealth and status to the benefit of those around him, and who may now regret the favor with which he was once received, but whose greater loss is from his former ability to impact favorably the lives of those around him.

In any case we may sympathize with a man who has lost his ability to live without regard for his death. Though we may live as though death is a remote and smiling escort from this age to another, the image does not stand up to any reasoned consideration. Though there is wisdom in this realization, most of us would sooner struggle without it, and cannot fault Job’s homesick longing for his former innocence.

Terrors Overwhelm Me

As Job continues in Chapter 30, he reinforces his former words by restating them in the negative. Where he once was respected by others, even by the upper rungs of society, for the righteous example he showed them and the tangible benefit he could afford them, he was now mocked by the least of his fellows because he was no longer of value to anyone, and because his misfortune afforded them the opportunity to assume his previous piety was a false cover for his genuine depravity, a depravity that continued in – and continued to be demonstrated by – his assertion of his innocence.

Where continued health through a long life was once tacitly assumed, Job is now torn between the terrors of his current life and the unwavering fear that he is sure to lose even what life remains. In the middle of this terror, in fact the very source of it, is the regard of his God, which has changed as completely and more dramatically than the regard of his friends. The God who once watched over him to keep him from harm has now grabbed him by his collar and thrown him in the mud. Perhaps more terribly, God will not even respond to Job’s charges of mistreatment.

I Dreaded Destruction

Job’s discourse concludes in Chapter 31. That is, it is completed in the chapter; in the entire book of Job there is little of the type of conclusion we like to see, where everything is summarized in some nice, neat package – an attractive package that we may set on a shelf to admire at our convenience.

Job has defended his righteousness in other passages, but in this we are given a better understanding of the sort of man Job was and of the morality with which he addressed the world. In the endearing opening, he declares that he has made a covenant with his eyes not to look lustfully at a girl. Old Testament law addresses the matter of congress with a girl (or damsel) and prescribed the situations in which the man and the girl should be killed, the man alone should be killed, or the man should be required to give the girl fifty shekels of silver (Deuteronomy 22:23-29).

As is our human tendency, the attention began to be addressed towards the law and the situations in which it might be avoided or manipulated and away from the offense itself. The scribes and Pharisees were more interested with the manipulation of the law to their own affect than they were in any idea of morality (John 8:3-7). Job understood what became the teaching of Christ (Matthew 5:27-29) that it is the lust itself, the attitude with which we regard each other, the intent that precedes the act, that is the concern of the law – the principle which the law would teach us for redemption, as apposed to the dictate by which the law would announce our condemnation.

Further, Job knew the answer to the question “who is my neighbor?” (Luke 10:25-29) as he acknowledges that even his servants are just as he is, formed in the womb by the same hand. The rest of his catalog of morality reminds us very much of the standard by which Christ will separate the sheep from the goats (Matthew 25:32-46). So innocent is Job, that he would wear like a crown any accusation against him. His integrity is not characterized by his suffering, nor by any accusations that might be hurled against him.

When Job tells us that he behaved as he did because he feared destruction from God, we may feel that at last we have found his fault. The Accuser declared that Job’s piety was only a result of his good fortune, and we may conclude that it in fact arose from a fear of misfortune.

This, I think, is certainly not what Job intended to reveal about himself, and it is not consistent with the genuine pleasure he has taken in his effort to feed the hungry and relieve the suffering of the oppressed. It is, however, consistent with his search for meaning, for an understanding of the God who is unquestionably in control of his life. He has previously asked how a God who would certainly punish him for wickedness could also punish him for his innocence (10:12-15).

Job has acted out of the fear of God; that is, he has acknowledged God as the only standard of righteousness, and he has expressed no regret for his action, but he does express the desire, perhaps indistinguishable from the need, to understand the role of his actions in the unfolding will of God.

It is always tempting to provide some simplifying and uplifting conclusion to any passage of study, but no such conclusion would be true to this passage, in which there is no conclusion at all. Eleven chapters remain in which we may seek whatever resolution we may find. For now it may do us no harm to leave ourselves in the uncertainty of Job. Are we quite certain who in this life are good and who are evil? Do we know for certain what God wants of us, and how our actions will affect ourselves and those around us? If we have no transactional relationship with God, then what purpose does our piety serve us? How close are we willing to push this to the logical extension: what good is God to us? Are we willing to ask what might be an equivalent question: what good are we to God?