When I first agreed to write some comments on Ecclesiastes, I chose chapter 5 because of its focus on the dangers of wealth. Teachers can feel an easy superiority on the topic of wealth. After all, we’ve spent our lives "wisely" pursuing knowledge while eschewing worldly wealth. We can decry those evil few who own most of the world’s wealth. Ecclesiastes gives our kind of message. How nice. How comfortable.

Disconcertingly, I discovered that chapter 5 is not just an easy pat on the back for people who study instead of making money. In fact, the whole first seven verses are not about wealth at all, but about worship. How frustrating. Maybe I could just leave them out and move right on to my pet peeves. That’s not the way a teacher is supposed to read though, especially a literature teacher who tells students to really look at the text. It’s time to take a look; in fact, back up and look at chapters 1–4.

Who is the speaker? "The son of David, king in Jerusalem"? Maybe. Even the major Bible commentaries can’t really agree on the true identity of the speaker. I’ve been interested to see what the writers of this quarter’s online commentaries have said so far. I like Fritz Guy’s suggestion that the speaker could be "an aging, experienced cynic" or a "serious but puzzled believer" ("Of Being and Time," January 20–26, 2007), and in the context of the early chapters, those suggestions work well.

As I read and reread the first chapters in light of chapter 5, it finally occurred to me to ask whether or not the claimed identity of the speaker might be a fiction selected to increase the power of the argument? Who is more powerful and authoritative than a king? What if the writer is a priest, a teacher, a poet—someone who sincerely worships God? We would expect such a person to decry excesses in wealth, power, sex, and selfish fun, and having done so, he could expect his audience to say, "Yes, that’s all well and good, but he’s just jealous of everything he’s missed, so he’s going to make it sound horrible."

What if the writer gives his speaker the persona of a king—not just any king—but the greatest king, the one who’s had it all—sensational wealth, great power, hundreds of women, any entertainment that could be imagined, and he has found it all to be "emptiness" and "wearisome" and "chasing the wind," even "madness" and "folly"? (Words used in the New English Bible). The assertions of this persona are infinitely more powerful than those of someone who has only looked on and envied. The writer uses this disappointed speaker to get us into the mode of thought that eschews all the things we usually imagine we want. We not only come to reject the petty pleasures of power and wealth; we’re afraid they’ll cause us to go to meaningless destruction and death.

Now the writer, through this speaker, has us where he wants us. We’re longing for something better, something to take us away from the whirlpool of destruction we feel ourselves pulled into. There has to be something better, and for the first time in this litany of despair, comes advice addressed directly to us. What preacher wouldn’t want an audience in such a state of readiness to hear advice about the proper kind of worship?

In chapter 5:1–7, for the first time we hear the speaker use the pronoun "you" to give direct advice. Here is the cure to the madness and folly the assumed speaker presents in the first four chapters. We feel that at last we’re hearing the writer’s true message about worship and duty, and now that he has us in the right frame of mind, he can assume we’re ready to listen. He moves to the topic dearest to his heart—the importance of worshiping God in the appropriate way and with the right spirit.

We are to enter into worship carefully in the proper frame of mind, which includes a willingness to show perfect obedience. It’s terrible to be a fool who sins without a thought. (A fool such as the speaker in the earlier chapters?) We should never speak hastily and thoughtlessly in "God’s presence." We need to remember that we are human and God alone is God, and while he is in heaven we are on earth, being careful to let our "words be few." People who are sensible (a word we never heard in the earlier chapters) have important business, but those who are foolish are full of idle chatter.

In fact, if we presume to make a vow to God, we must fulfill it quickly. God can be led into anger by the foolish and thoughtless behavior of people whose mouths lead them into sin. Trying to offer a quick apology is not okay. This only provokes God’s anger. All of our achievements will be "brought to nothing" by thoughtless speech and behavior. Instead, we "must fear God." The advice, promises, and threats of this speaker—who is now willing, at least for now, to show his true stance—are the perfect antidote to the excesses and pining of the speaker in the first chapters.

In verses 8–20 we see the writer’s true attitudes toward wealth. Although the earlier chapters emphasized the meaninglessness of wealth, these verses show its true power. Those who have it but love it too much and try to hoard it will never have peace or enjoyment: "all his days are over-shadowed; gnawing anxiety and great vexation are his lot, sickness and resentment" (v. 17). The final promise of this instructional chapter is that we should enjoy our lives and labors during our brief years on this earth. We should not even dwell on how quickly the years pass. Rather, God fills our "time with joy of heart" (v. 20). As I read these words, I begin to ask myself why I at first found all of Ecclesiastes so depressing. Chapter 5 invites both obedience and rejoicing.

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