Here’s my longer sermon notes from this morning’s Metro Christian Centre service (dated 19th February 2023), continuing our series VAPOUR?. This series explores our search for meaning, journeying through the enigmatic book of Ecclesiastes.
You can also catch up with this via MCC’s YouTube channel (just give us time to get the video uploaded )
‘I praise You, my God, and extol You forever! I despise myself and cast myself before You in the depths of my unworthiness. Behold, You are the Holy of Holies, and I am the scum of sinners! Behold, You bow down to me who am not worthy to look up to You! Behold, You come to me! You will to be with me! You invite me to Your banquet! You desire to give me heavenly food … none other than Yourself, the living Bread Who are come down from heaven and give life to the world.’
Thomas à Kempis, The Imitation of Christ [sic][i]
HOPE & CARNAGE
Someone once wrote, “This beautiful book is a lament, a celebration, a howl, [an earthbound] prayer, a call to arms, a meditation and an exquisite articulation of the human condition.”[ii]
What a description!
They weren’t talking about Ecclesiastes.
These words are from a cover review to the singer/songwriter Nick Cave’s book, Faith, Hope and Carnage
Nevertheless, they also make a great summary of Ecclesiastes. Even the title of Nick Cave’s book, Faith, Hope and Carnage would be a fitting description of Ecclesiastes’ contents.
Qohelet (or the Teacher/Preacher), the central voice of the book, is seeking meaning. He’s not after meaning in the sense of wanting a dream for his life; he’s wrestling with the human condition. In his mind, existence is nothing but vapour; fleeting, fragile, and unprofitable. With frustration and lament, Qohelet tries to hold onto hope whilst witnessing carnage.
He’s not a positive person. Nonetheless, there are those who do sweeten Qohelet’s observations by removing some of his sentences from his context and turning him into a faith preacher. He’s not that.
Most of his frustrations are with God. ‘God has dealt a tragic existence to the human race’, he says early on in this book (Ecc. 1:13). He blames God, a lot, as we’ve seen in prior weeks. Even when Qohelet talks about enjoyment being a ‘gift from God’, the context he says it in carries a sense that this “joy” is nothing more than a narcotic that numbs us to reality, a distraction to help us except our portion, our lot in life.
In sum, he’s a believer who has hang ups with God. Most of those hang ups have been in the background, thus far. But as we open up chapter 5 of Ecclesiastes, Qohelet lets rip and gives full vent to his frustration.
Which is interesting, since the words we’ll read have often been sweetened and have not acknowledged Qohelet’s assault on God.
Although we are going to read all of Ecclesiastes 5, I will focus on the first seven verses. In the second half of this chapter, Qohelet again looks at injustice, greed, and oppressive rulers, something already discussed in the chapter immediately before. We can, however, appreciate where Qohelet’s head is when he says what he says in the first seven verses if we recall what came before and see what follows.
READ: ECCLESIASTES 5:1-20 [4:17—5:19, in the Hebrew Bible] (CJB)
HUSH
I’m a shusher. You know, one of those people who like to go, ‘Shhh’. I’m pretty good at it—so good, in fact, that I think I missed my calling as a librarian.
I don’t do it constantly. But there are certain times when a good shush needs to be issued.
For example, when we’re watching a film at home and someone begins to chat over some important dialogue.
‘Shhh.’
Or, when we’re driving and a classic song like Billy Joel’s The River of Dreams comes on the radio. So you turn the volume up a little, sending the subtle hint to everyone in the car that now is the time to stop talking and start listening. But they don’t get the hint, and only begin to talk louder:
‘SHHH!’
Then there are those moments when you sneak to the fridge, for a “little” bit of bedtime chocolate, but the chocolate bar wrapper doesn’t grasp how secretive this visit needs to be. And you find yourself trying to persuade some inanimate packaging to not respond to your fingers by making any noise.
‘shhh, shhh, shhhhhh.’
Shush means ‘be quiet’. We need some quiet. We live in a noisy world. I’m not strictly speaking about sound. Attempts to be heard, seen, and noticed are abundant. Many people are trying to grab attention. In contrast, shushing reminds us to give our attention to where we are or to what is happening.
There are moments in life when reverence is an absolute must, when there is an awed respect. Where I go silent. When my ears and eyes become alert to something other than me.
The poet, in Psalm 46:10, writes, ‘Be still, and know that I am God.’ As writer, Philip Yancey points out, the Latin imperative for ‘be still’ is vacate. So when God says ‘be still’, ‘God [is inviting] us to take a holiday [a vacation], to stop being God.’ To climb down from our executive chairs of control, our delusions of grandeur, and our ego being the centre, and let God be God. [iii]
In my own experience, I’ve had many times in prayer when I have felt the Holy Spirit go, ‘Shhh, you’re not God.’ It’s a liberating moment. It’s liberating that there is a fundamental distinction between me and God.
There is, in a manner of speaking, a great divide between mortals and God, in the sense that as far as categories go, God and Human are nothing alike.[iv] God is not a creation, like me, but the Creator. God is infinite; I am finite. God is eternal; I have a beginning and an end and, by the grace of God, a continuation. I live as a human, bound by time and by limits; I will die as a human, and I will be resurrected as a human. God, is entirely other. God is God, and I am not.
It’s good to remember that I am human, mortal, dust, and be reminded that God understands our dustiness and considers it when he deals with us.
As Psalm 103 expresses it,
‘The Lord is like a father to his children,
tender and compassionate to those who fear him.
For he knows how weak we are;
he remembers we are only dust.
Our days on earth are like grass;
like wildflowers, we bloom and die.
The wind blows, and we are gone—
as though we had never been here.
But the love of the Lord remains forever
with those who fear him.’
Psalm 103: 13-17, NLT
I am dusty and God knows how to handle this with care.
As Philip Yancey goes onto say, ‘[a reverence in] prayer allows me to admit my failures, weaknesses, and limitations to the One who responds to human vulnerability with infinite mercy.’[v]
Reverence is an appropriate response when we realise we are in God’s presence. Often, the Bible writers use the word fear (like in Psalm 103 above). They don’t mean fright, but awed respect. It’s humbling to remember who we are and how fragile we are, and who God is and how great God is, and that God desires us to know that he knows us and that God desires for us to know him.
‘Be still, and know that I am God.’ In other words, ‘shhh.’
QOHELET’S VENT
If we wanted, we could use the words of Ecclesiastes 5:2, ‘God is in heaven, and you are on earth, so let your words be few.’
They have certainly been used to express the idea of God’s attentive care and our awe. I know of a great worship song that uses these words in this way. And there’s nothing wrong with that.
Except, when Qohelet uses this expression, he’s not expressing such a positive sentiment.
You may have noticed by now, as we have gone through this series, that Qohelet often taps into themes found in the other books of the Bible, and where there’s a positive declaration, he sings it in a minor key.
So, like other parts of the Bible, Qohelet has already declared in Ecclesiastes that humans are nothing but dust (Ecc. 3:18-20), just like the Psalm I read.[vi] He’s doing so to show how distinct we are from God. God is not like us.
‘God is in heaven, and you are on earth … ‘, is his way of making the same point again.
And, he’s right to make that point. But, it’s not praise from the lips of Qohelet. This distinction is a huge problem for him: God is so unlike us, he feels, that there cannot be any genuine solidarity and empathy, from God’s side, with our human condition. God is incapable of seeing things from a human perspective: ‘God is worlds apart’, he would say. And what Qohelet’s promoting in this passage, is not reverence for God, but reticence and a hesitation in approaching God at all.
The ‘fear God’ here, is not awed respect for a mighty and compassionate deity, but fright before a powerful and dangerous being.[vii] ‘This [passage] is not a note of comfort […], but exasperation.’[viii]
For Qohelet, your words should be few, you should save your words, because he sees God as ‘far off’. Qohelet sees God as ‘distant, indifferent, and sometimes cruel.’[ix] And if you approach God, you better be careful.[x]
CLUES
We don’t see this when we pluck this verse away from its surroundings, and we forget all the other hang ups Qohelet has expressed so far about God. But, the clues to Qohelet’s perspective are all here.
Clue number 1 is where Qohelet’s head is at.
From the end of chapter 3, all the way through chapter 4, Qohelet has been talking about injustice and oppression, of how there is corruption in the places that should do justice, and that there is greed and envy. As I pointed out last time, he even levels a charge at God for not being there to help or comfort people (Ecc. 4:2).[xi]
After talking about God, at the beginning of chapter 5, he’s still on the topic of injustice and oppression. He’s still on the topic, because he’s never left the topic. He mentions, in Ecc. 5:7-8, how we should not be surprised by the existence of oppression because the people in charge are also being oppressed by the people over them.
In other words, one ruler extracts tributes and pledges from those under them, and another ruler extracts tributes and pledges from that ruler, and so on and so forth.
I think the New Century Version (NCV) expresses it best when it translates verse 8, ‘One officer is cheated by a higher officer who in turn is cheated by even higher officers.’
Qohelet’s saying, in effect, that people in authority are all the same: they are in it for themselves, their cut. They don’t care about those lower than them. They only care about what is “owed” to them.
So oppression is the topic of Qohelet in chapter 4; it’s the point he’s making in the back end of chapter 5. In between, he’s talking about God!
He hasn’t jumped to a different topic of conversation, and neither has he taken a break from reflecting on life to give us some instructions about worship (as some suggest).[xii] He bundles God into his problem with authorities, ‘God is just like them’, he feels, ‘God’s in it for himself. He only cares about what is owed to him, not the people who owe it.’
Clue number 2, is Qohelet’s choice of words.
This passage starts with the ominous words, to give the literal meaning in the original Hebrew, ‘Guard your feet!’ It’s a manner of speaking that says, ‘watch out!’ A good English equivalent would be, ‘Watch your step!’ It’s not a positive instruction.[xiii]
Forgive the pop-culture reference, but those words remind me of the Indiana Jones films. Every time Indiana Jones enters some tomb or crypt, in order to retrieve some treasure, he always turns to whatever companion he’s with and says something along the lines of, ‘Watch your step!’
Indiana Jones knows there are booby traps. This environment does not want you to succeed; it’s rigged with the expectation that you will make the wrong step, and when you do… splat!
It’s a crude analogy, but, in similar fashion, this is how Qohelet sees God’s presence. His conversation about oaths—even though he says the right things about God being interested in obedience more than sacrifice[xiv]—is loaded with an ominous sense that God is watching purely with the intent of waiting for you to put a foot wrong.
As far as Qohelet is concerned, it’s safer not to promise anything to God (Ecc. 5:3-5). Qohelet, rightly, picks up on the Hebrew traditions of being mindful before God, but there is no scope, in his idea of God, for the Divine tenderness, compassion and mercy that we saw in Psalm 103. There’s no pleading your case to those God calls to collect his tributes. In Qohelet’s picture, God’s not interested in your excuses—just like an official, a bailiff, or someone in authority coming to claim what they say is owed.
The third and final clue is Qohelet’s use of the word God.
Names are important in the Bible. They are important to God. Whether they are names that God gives to people, or that people give to God, or even when God reveals his name to Moses; they all speak of the fact that even though God is other and categorically different, God is compassionately involved with humanity.
A woman called Hagar is the first person in the scriptures to give a name (a description) to God: Lahairoi (God sees).
In the texts where Hagar appears, she is consistently objectified. She is never addressed directly by another human being; she is passed around in silence.
She is not consulted with when her Egyptian father gives her to Sarah as a servant. Hagar isn’t consulted when Sarah passes her to Abram. She has no say, and speaks no words when Abram sleeps with her, when Sarah drives her away, and when she’s finally banished from Abram’s clan. No one hears her.
But, as she discovers in the wilderness, she has a voice with God. God hears her. God sees her plight. God allows her to speak. God makes a covenant with Hagar (Gen 16, 21). God acknowledges her as a person, and not a thing. No wonder she calls God, ‘the God who Sees’. I suspect that whenever she spoke her son’s name, Ishmael (which means, God hears), she was reminded of the One who gives the voiceless a voice, and the One who gives the dispossessed an inheritance.
Hagar teaches us that God sees us when others overlook us or view us in a utilitarian fashion. God hears, even when others ignore our cries, when others rob us of our voice, when others erase our words.
Qohelet doesn’t use the description of Lahairoi when talking about God. Come to think of it, he never uses any of the descriptions/names given to God in the rest of the scriptures.
‘Father’ and ‘Almighty’, both of which are in the vernacular of the Bible, both of which are nurturing titles reminding us of God’s provision and care, are absent.[xv]
Qohelet doesn’t even mention the name Yahweh—the name God revealed to Moses before rescuing the people of Israel from Egypt. The story of the Old Testament revolves around this name. It’s often translated, ‘The LORD’. We saw it used in Psalm 103 (above), along with the title, Father. It invokes warm memories of God’s covenant promises and faithfulness.
Qohelet never refers to ‘The LORD’ in the whole of his search in Ecclesiastes.
Actually, whenever he mentions God, Qohelet uses the Hebrew word ĕlōhim—which is just the generic way of saying, God. It’s a mere label, like table, dog, human. There’s nothing personal to it. This underlies the point Qohelet is making: God is not personable.
Again, I’m pointing out these clues because this is not a passage encouraging worship, proper or otherwise. Qohelet is saying, God’s so far away, he’s not interested.
Yes, Qohelet would acknowledge (and has done so in Ecclesiastes) that God is sovereign. But Qohelet feels that God is unconcerned.
‘God is in heaven, you are on earth, so don’t waste your meaningless breath.’
In keeping with Qohelet’s view that everything is futile, he sees entering God’s presence as futile, too.
GOD WITH US
His conclusion is wrong, we don’t have to agree with him (his point is not the point of Ecclesiastes), and he’s rubbish at giving us answers. And yet, as in previous weeks, Qohelet raises questions and feelings that murmur in the depths of most of us. Qohelet’s a hard writer to travel with, but no other biblical writer expresses the depth of the human condition like him.
I don’t know why he feels this way, but Qohelet would not be alone in feeling this way.[xvi] His words resonate. Even as a Christian, I have, at times, had this sense of the ‘felt absence’ and the ‘felt silence’ of God.
This is not to say that God is absent, or that God is silent, but there are times when God has felt a million miles away. There are times when I have felt like I’m off God’s radar—like I am insignificant. Sometimes, like Qohelet, I have this feeling when I look at the mess and carnage in our world. Sometimes, I feel this way when I glimpse the carnage within myself.
It’s true, as Philip Yancey expresses it, that ‘In God’s presence I feel small because I am small.’[xvii] But this does not mean that we are overlooked.
Yes, I don’t always feel loved. However, this does not mean that God is indifferent towards me, or you. My feelings may be real, but this does not mean that they speak of reality. Moments like these remind me that I have to say ‘Shhh’ to my doubts and fears, and open my eyes and ears to the compassionate acts of God.
I remind myself of stories like Hagar’s. I plunge into the scriptures and read of God hearing the cries of his people in Egypt, of God making a covenant to them, of God having them build a tabernacle, a tent of meeting, that would symbolise God’s presence in the midst of them.
I jump forward in the story, to the New Testament, when I see the climax of God’s commitment to humanity, of God closing down any notions of God not wanting to know us: Where God becomes like us, one of us, when God becomes flesh and blood (Jn. 1:14; Heb. 2:14-15) in Jesus: fully God and fully human.
As one ancient church voice said it, ‘He has been manifested in a human body for this reason only, out of love and goodness of His Father, for the salvation of us men.’[xviii]
In that human body, Jesus taught us that, yes, we can let our words be few in the presence of God. Our prayers needn’t be us babbling on and on and on. Not because God is indifferent, but because God benevolently cares about us, and already knows our needs before we ask him (Matt 6:5-13).[xix] And out of the knowledge of that care we can pray, ‘Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name.’
Prayer does not begin with us thinking we have to overcome some distance between us and God; that we have to “shout” to grab God’s attention, or even appease God in some way to coax God away from the lofty position he holds to bend his ear toward us. Prayer begins in the acknowledgment that God, in all his majesty, greatness, and otherness is already attentive to us, desiring us to commune with him.
Or, in the words of Psalm 116:2, ‘Because [the LORD] bends down and listens, I will pray… (NLT, italics mine)’
JUST…
Allow me to get away with just one more analogy that is terrible.
I’m reminded of the film Notting Hill. In the film, William (Hugh Grant), a nobody who runs a travel bookshop, falls in love with a Hollywood A-lister called Anna (Julie Roberts). Because of the great difference in their status, William often feels out-of-place; he finds it hard to believe that this could be real, and questions Anna’s love for him. It seems too out-of-this-world, that there’s no way someone like her could genuinely care for someone like him and understand what his world is like.
At one point in the film, Anna desperately tries to get William to grasp how sincere she is, and she stands before him and delivers the best rom-com line, ever: “I’m just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her.”
I’m not meaning to be irreverent, and I know there’s more to it, but I think this line captures something of God’s approach to us in Jesus. God became flesh in order for us to grasp that even though there is a huge difference between Humans and God, this does not mean that God’s desire to be present with us is insincere or suspicious. God wants us to know his presence.
Prayer is so much more than a call to pursue Christ; it’s an invitation to feel his desire for us.
If you truly want to revere God, respond with boldness to his gracious invitation.
“But as for me, I know that my Redeemer lives,
and he will stand upon the earth at last.
And after my body has decayed,
yet in my body I will see God!
I will see him for myself.
Yes, I will see him with my own eyes.
I am overwhelmed at the thought!”
Job 19:25-27, NLT
‘Since, then, we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast to our confession. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who in every respect has been tested as we are, yet without sin. Let us therefore approach the throne of grace with boldness, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.’
Hebrews 4:14-16, NRSV
[i] Thomas à Kempis, The Imitation of Christ, translated by Aloysius Croft and Harold Bolton, (Dover Thrift Editions, 2013), p.119.
[ii] Rachel Clarke, Observer, cover review of Nick Cave’s, Faith, Hope and Carnage.
[iii] Philip Yancey, Prayer: Does it Make any Difference? (Hodder & Stoughton, London, 2008), p. 19
[iv] This doesn’t mean there is no connection or relationship between the two, nor does it deny that one is made for the other. But, as a crude analogy, a shoe is categorically different from a foot.
[v] Ibid iii
[vi] Generally, in the Old Testament “dust”, as applied to humans, often signifies the great divide between mortals and God (Gen 18:27; Pss 104:29; Job 10:9; 34:15).
[vii] Tremper Longman, The Book of Ecclesiastes (The New International Commentary on the Old Testament), (Eerdmans Publishing Co., Michigan), p. 36.
[viii] Peter Enns, The Two Horizons Old Testament Commentary: Ecclesiastes (Eerdmans, Grand Rapids, Michigan, 2011), p. 67
[ix] Ibid vii, Longman, p. 35; Ibid viii, Enns, pp.66-67.
[x] As Peter Enn’s notes, ‘His exhortation to “fear God” is not to be understood in the productive sense as one finds it in Proverbs. If anything, he is taking a jab at such a notion (if it is on his mind at all). This is a different kind of fear, one that concerns a God, as we have seen throughout Ecclesiastes thus far, whose inscrutable acts produce pain, anxiety, frustration—fear. It would be wrong to read this section as simply encouraging worshippers to make sure they approach God with proper decorum and respect. He is saying, in effect, when you approach God, you are taking a risk.’ Peter Enns, The Two Horizons Old Testament Commentary: Ecclesiastes (Eerdmans, Grand Rapids, Michigan, 2011), p. 69
[xi] See VAPOUR? | PAIN & SORROW (Ecc. 3:16—4:3)
[xii] There is a tendency in many to see the passage (Ecc. 5:1-7) as ‘odd’ and ill fitting, because Qohelet appears to switch from a ‘reflective’ mode of speech to one of giving ‘instructions’. For this reason, some have suggested that this could imply that Ecclesiastes 5:1-7 (4:17-5:19, in Hebrew) could be a later addition by an editor or the Frame Narrator of the book himself (for example, see Robert Alter, The Hebrew Bible: A Translation with Commentary, The Writings (W. W. Norton & Company, Inc., New York, 2019). I have nothing against the idea of the frame Narrator adding his views into the text. After all, he presents Qohelet’s conclusions at the start of the book and closes the book of Ecclesiastes with his own assessment of Qohelet’s words and a conclusion of his own. I just feel it would be inorganic of the Narrator to insert a conclusion, especially of such nature, into the text at this stage and in the middle of a dialogue about injustice and self-concern. Certainly, the passage could be a later addition by another editor. But again, why here? Some have suggested that this passage (understood positively) would help temper the radical views of Qohelet. But this fails to satisfy the reason for its insertion point. Plus, doesn’t the Narrator’s closing words already perform such a task? And, if you’re going to edit, why not redact or temper some of Qohelet’s previous wording? Personally, I feel it’s more in keeping with Qohelet’s train of thought to see this passage not as a digression into pious instruction (where ‘God’ drops in and then back out again), but as Qohelet giving full vent of his reflections on God, a problem that is evidenced as bubbling behind his words in prior passages.
[xiii] It’s the opposite of Hebrews 4:16’s encouragement to come boldly before the throne of God, and a world away from the consideration of God reflected in Psalm 103.
[xiv] As Julie Ann Duncan notes, ‘Qohelet does not disparage sacrifice but relativizes its value in relationship to listening/obedience (the Hebrew word has both connotations). His judgement echoes the values of the prophets (e.g., 1 Sam 15:22; Amos 5:2-24) as well as those of the wisdom tradition (Prov 15:8, 21:3, 27). Sacrifice cannot be substituted for right conduct. … Like the sages, Qohelet is keenly aware that one’s mouth can get one into trouble (Prov. 10:14, 19; 13:3).’ Julie Ann Duncan, Abingdon Old Testament Commentaries: Ecclesiastes (Abingdon Press, Nashville, 2017), pp. 69-70.
[xv] For more on ‘Father’ and ‘Almighty’, see my notes from our series on the Apostle’s Creed: CREED | FATHER, ALMIGHTY (DEUT 32:1-18).
[xvi] I should add here, that Qohelet’s neglect of God’s compassion, or God’s names, is so out of sync with the rest of the testimony of the scriptures, that one can’t help but think that it is intentional. Why it is, is hard to say. It could be that Qohelet is being a full on sceptic, pulling into question every testimony in the scriptures about God’s care. It could, however, be an intentional teaching device. I suggest that Qohelet is aware that we, the readers, are aware of God’s compassion and scriptural names, and that we, in listening to his argument, will automatically interject with the testimony of the scriptures. If this is the case, then Qohelet’s rhetoric could be purposefully designed to cause us to remember, rehearse and retell the mighty acts of God in history; something that the Psalms and the Prophets warn us about forgetting, and charge Israel with forgetting.
[xvii] Philip Yancey, Prayer: Does it Make any Difference? (Hodder & Stoughton, London, 2008), p. 14
[xviii] St. Athanasius of Alexandria, On the Incarnation (Fig Books, 2013), p. 9. Shortly after this, in this magnificent piece of writing, Athanasius adds, ‘For this purpose [to redeem us from death and futility] the incorporeal and incorruptible and immaterial Word of God entered our world. In one sense, indeed, He was not far from it before, for no part of creation had ever been without Him Who, while ever abiding in union with the Father, yet fills all things that are. But now He entered the world in a new way, stooping to our level in His love and Self-revealing to us.’
[xix] Julie Ann Duncan, Abingdon Old Testament Commentaries: Ecclesiastes (Abingdon Press, Nashville, 2017), p. 71.
TRISTAN SHERWIN 
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