Having reached the emotional climax of his book in chapter nine, the author of Ecclesiastes seems to take another chapter or two to fit in some other proverbs he has collected during his quest for wisdom. Our passage for this week begins with a few of them. The first (11:1) has baffled interpreters for as long as we can tell. Some see a celebration of good deeds; the one who dispenses them freely will receive them in return. Others suggest a reference to maritime trade. One commentator notes use of bread in Ecclesiastes to advocate enjoyment and interprets this proverb as encouraging the wise person not only to receive joy in life’s ordinary details, but also to pass it around (compare 9:7).1

The latter half of the verse recommends diversifying whatever investment the preceding sentence advocates. Although we might be surprised at this rather conventional advice from the Teacher (investing one’s wealth or one’s charity widely is not exactly the cutting skepticism that has become the trademark of Ecclesiastes; see, for example, 1:2; 12:8), given the arbitrary nature of the world and its moral fabric (compare 8:14), such cautious action may be the best option available. After all, the sage is never one to advocate passive inactivity, even in the face of life’s absurdity.2

The next three verses make this clear. Nature (v. 3), life (v. 5a), and even God (v. 5b) are mysterious and incomprehensible. One could spend all of one’s time trying to crack the code and guarantee success, but such an endeavor would be—no surprise here—futile, absurd, and vain, like chasing after the wind. Yet confronted with such uncertainty, the Teacher does not retreat into a cave of apathy or idleness. Rather, he urges the wise person to carry on in life’s daily toil: "In the morning sow your seed, and at evening do not let your hands be idles" (v. 6). Indeed, in such routine living are found life’s most authentic pleasures and joy (compare 2:24; 3:13; 3:22; 5:18; also 8:15; and 9:10).

So, the wisdom that this sage dispenses centers on the appropriate action given life’s unpredictability (yes, even absurdity). Don’t wait around until the perfect moment, attempting (in vain!) to maximize your success and secure great wealth, stockpile favors, or secure a future. Instead, act. Live. Enjoy.

From here, the author of Ecclesiastes moves into his concluding observations. Certainly, the previous ten chapters of his writing should discourage us from forcing undue connection between sections. However, if his commendation of enjoyable action eludes the reader in the previous proverbs, it should leap off the page and engulf the reader here. Addressing the proverbial young man directly, the sage gives an imperative to rejoice. The word is the same as has been used throughout the book (samach). Enjoy; find pleasure in (your work, eating, drinking), and do it while you’re still young.

The Teacher then returns to his typical stance vis à vis conventional wisdom. Wisdom often regards youth with a wary eye (compare Prov. 2:14). Furthermore, the heart and eyes are not the most reliable of guides. Numbers 15:39 warns, "[You will] not follow the lust of your own heart and your own eyes." Such suppression of youthful vigor is not Ecclesiastes’ approach, however. "Follow the inclination of your heart and the desire of your eyes…" (v. 9).

Certainly, the Teacher has established early on the futility of pleasure’s pursuit in securing meaning and happiness (2:1–11). But he has also juxtaposed six times prior the simple receipt of enjoyment and pleasure as they arrive serendipitously from the inscrutable hand of God (compare 2:24, and so forth).

The keen observer’s disillusionment with pleasure stems from its collapse as a rewarding enterprise. It fails to provide meaning, secure happiness, or fix one’s reputation in the collective memory—just the same as do the accumulation of wealth, endless toil, or even righteous living (7:15). Deconstructed by death’s inescapable reality, life’s "illusions of grandeur" are rendered absurd.3

Once enjoyment has been exposed as equally futile in escaping death’s finality, the Teacher paradoxically celebrates it as the best option available for wise living. He does so seven times, and chapter eleven contains the seventh celebration. Youth should not be spent denying oneself in preparation to finally enjoy oneself late in life (v. 10). The late years are filled with darkness, after all (v. 8). Instead, carpe diem.

With a bit of relief or disappointment (depending on one’s disposition, I imagine), we hear the Teacher temper his directive with a reminder of God’s impending judgment (v. 9b). Follow your heart and eyes, but remember that God will judge your actions.

However, many translators venture (and I will boldly/brashly follow…) that such a rendering is inconsistent with Ecclesiastes as a whole. The conjunction "but" that sets the two clauses in opposition is a mistranslation that should be simply "and." The reason the young man (and the reader) should find enjoyment is because he will have to answer to God some day for how he has lived his life. "For Koheleth, the enjoyment of life becomes the highest dictate of life," writes Robert Gordis.4 According to William Brown, "The appropriation of joy marks nothing less than a moral triumph."5

Gordis and Brown are quick to distinguish between hedonism and the wise pleasures advocated here. The Teacher agrees. Those pursuits of pleasure that disastrously treat life as an indestructible, inexhaustible asset are the very marks of futile living (compare 2:14; 9:2). However, the one who comes to grips with life’s mortality and celebrates all things life affirming has found the wise way—and not only wise but also moral. The one who wholeheartedly receives the joys and pleasures that God gives will stand tall in the judgment.

As with the rest of Ecclesiastes, this passage challenges us. It is no easy read. It strikes at our conventional convictions. Yet there is something beautiful unveiled by the sage observer’s penetrating gaze. Life is to be celebrated, especially as it is graciously given by the Creator and Sustainer. Many things threaten to foil that aim, not the least of which are our attempts to wrest meaning from the world and deny life’s brevity. Ecclesiastes may not have the first word or the last. But for this reader of Scripture, he has certainly earned an invaluable place in the canon’s witness to the wise living that responds faithfully to the Creator’s continuing invitation.

Notes and References

1. William P. Brown, Ecclesiastes (Louisville, Ky.: John Knox, 2000), 102.
2. For an argument for the translation of the Hebrew hebel as "absurdity," see Michael V. Fox, A Time to Tear Down and a Time to Build Up: A Rereading of Ecclesiastes (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans, 1999). A number of translations are possible and most are preferable to the traditional "vanity," which tends to let the English speaker off the hook. The temptation to gravitate toward "vanity" as self-absorption or excessive pride takes the punch out of the sage’s more penetrating assessment of life’s total meaninglessness and senselessness.
3. Brown, Ecclesiastes, 37.
4. Robert Gordis, Koheleth—the Man and His World: A Study of Ecclesiastes, 3d ed. (New York: Schocken, 1968), 335.
5. Brown, Ecclesiastes, 107.

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