Life was so beautiful // Then we all got locked down// Feel a like ghost // Living in a ghost town.. yeah…I'm a ghost// Living in a ghost town // I'm going nowhere // Shut up all alone// So much time to lose // Just staring at my phone... Mick Jagger and Keith Richards, "Living in a Ghost Town," Polydor, 2020
It does feel like a ghostly time. While some ‘normalcy’ to life has returned to my part of the country for now, much of life yet remains in a weird fog of uncertainty made all the more so by the made for TV fascism produced by the apprentice of the Oval Office. It’s an atmosphere that makes you wonder what really matters anymore. It is an ambience well captured by my one of my favorite Hebrew words: hevel. It means breath, vapor, fog, a fleeting ephemerality, the notion of a transitory existence. A ghost. It is the root for the name Able, a man of transitory existence par excellence. I have often likened hevel to be something akin to nailing jello to a tree and in these times, trying to grab hold of the touchstones that gave our lives a sense of stability and direction too often feels like an exercise in that kind of futility. Hevel – vanity, one of the central threads woven throughout the book we know as Ecclesiastes. Hevel – the word appears 38 times, beginning in verse 2: hevel hakkōl hevelim – vanity of vanities.
I do not like the Latin transliteration of the Greek translation of the Hebrew title, Koheleth. In Greek, Ekklēsiastḗs, means ‘of an assembly’ or ‘one who calls an assembly,’ perhaps a preacher. It’s a title that I think obfuscates. The Hebrew title of the book, as with all Hebrew names for the books of the Bible, comes from the first verse: “The words of the Teacher,” Koheleth. It is plain to see what things are all about for that which follows: the words of a teacher who has much to teach us. Koheleth.
While Proverbs presumes the existence of a moral order instilled and maintained by the divine creator that purports wisdom’s function was to ensure success, and long, prosperous lives surrounded by our children and admiring friends, Koheleth paints quite a different and humbling picture more akin to the realities of a broken world: a book that at its core, teaches humility.
If you haven’t yet, or perhaps haven’t in a while, there is no better time like now to dive into this selection from the wisdom literature of the Bible. Martin Luther felt that Koheleth should be read daily by Christians and it was, according to a Vietnam war chaplain, a book that the soldiers welcomed hearing from most often. I have heard others liken reading Koheleth to slipping into a warm bath. Interesting comparison. In this post, I would like to share some of my thoughts about slipping into this warm bath from the word of God.
Koheleth doesn’t ‘speak into my life’ as much as it speaks about my life. It is a beautifully crafted, artistic reflection and interpretation of life that experience has shown to be compelling and persuasive. The Teacher writes in a manner that that imitates life itself, posing life’s perplexing questions and meaning without giving a direct answer: “For who knows what is good for mortals while they live the few days of their vain life, which they pass like a shadow? For who can tell them what will be after them under the sun? (6.12). We can speak of the mundane clearly enough, but ultimate truth is the slippery eel that escapes our mortal limits of understanding if we are humble enough to admit it.
The obsession with materiality that devours so many lives, my own past included, is on point, especially the futility of it: “What do people gain from all the toil at which they toil under the sun?” (1.3). As a teenager, I heard a call from God to the pastorate that I diligently ignored for the better part of forty-five years, chasing the almighty dollar with great ‘success’ as an investment broker. That is if you measure success by your bank account balance and the size of your home. I was one of those that indulged in the ‘total work’ culture we inhabit, valuing myself by the ninety hour plus weeks that I put in, blind to the beauty and joy found in the gifts of my wife and daughter. What I discovered in the humiliating process of losing money, house, cars, fancy suits and temporarily, my freedom, was that none of it had mattered in the first place: “Then I saw that all toil and all skill in work come from one person’s envy of another. This also is vanity and a chasing after wind” (4.4). Hevel indeed.
In the process, I came to grips with Koheleth’s observation to not romanticize the past: “Do not say, ‘Why were the former days better than these?’ For it is not from wisdom that you ask this” (7.10) The nostalgic valuation of the past negates any possibility of present joy and less obviously, dismisses present responsibilities. It is conceivably easy to look back and relish the six-bedroom home over against the small apartment we now occupy, but to do so would be to forget that our current home was a gift from God at a time of imminent homelessness: a negligence which could readily contribute to reestablishing the mindset that created the problems in the first place – ignoring the Lord’s call and presence in my life while chasing the hevel of materiality. Hevel hakkōl hevelim – vanity of vanities.
Where Koheleth speaks most profoundly for me is with our fleeting lifespans. As I pass my ‘best used by date,’ I clearly understand how quickly time passes and that every moment is to be savored. In verse 9.4 we read: “But whoever is joined with all the living has hope, for a living dog is better than a dead lion.” The only ‘security’ ; a better translation than ‘hope,’ anchors the living with the knowledge that we all die. It is a sobering thought, but an essential one, as it is far too easy to be caught up chasing after the wind of excess materiality or deep depression. Koheleth exhorts:
“Go, eat your bread with enjoyment, and drink your wine with a merry heart; for God has long ago approved what you do. Let your garments always be white; do not let oil be lacking on your head. Enjoy life with the wife whom you love, all the days of your vain life that are given you under the sun, because that is your portion in life and in your toil at which you toil under the sun. Whatever your hand finds to do, do with your might; for there is no work or thought or knowledge or wisdom in Sheol, to which you are going because that is your portion in life and in your toil at which you toil under the sun” (9.7-10).
Given the fleetingness of my ‘hevel’ life, this serves as a reminder to enjoy the gifts of God that matter. The ups and downs, the good, the bad and the ugly, find their ways into everyone’s life at some point or another. Adhering to the commands of God is the only intelligent and faithful response to the essential fact that ‘all is hevel’.
In many ways, my favorite poet from the tidewater of Virginia captured my experience with the words of the Teacher:
“When I was younger I saw things in black and white, // Now all I see is a sad, hazy gray. Sometimes I see a narrow flash of light, // Sometimes I look and you show me the way. No matter what else happens, //What the future will be, in a world so uncertain, // Through the clouds it’s hard to see. I will grab you and carry you, // Calm your fears if you’re afraid, We’ll go walking, // Across the fields of gray.” (Bruce Hornsby, Fields of Gray, Harbor Lights, RCA, 1993.)
In the fields and times of the gray of life, Koheleth is truly a jewel of revelation to keep to the course of our faith: “The end of the matter; all has been heard. Fear God, and keep his commandments; for that is the whole duty of everyone. For God will bring every deed into judgement, including every secret thing, whether good or evil” (12.12-14). Focus, the Teacher implores, on the constancy of the promise of God in Christ as a lamp unto my feet. Light that shines in the darkness of hevel and the darkness cannot, and will not, ever overcome it.
A Prodigal's Periodical 