Ecclesiastes urges us to examine meaninglessness in order to arrive at joy; how can we navigate that process with integrity to God and ourselves?

“Vanity of vanities, it is all vanity.” So starts off the book of Ecclesiastes, and it sure sounds like a great opening. This book is part of the section of biblical canon called Wisdom Literature. Some say it was written by King Solomon, which would place it around 900 BCE, and others say it was written in the Babylonian exile, which was around 600 BCE. The canon of wisdom literature is said to be an expression of Israel’s self-understanding, a vehicle for God’s revelation. The books included in Wisdom literature are Proverbs, Job, Ecclesiastes, Sirach, and the Wisdom of Solomon (the last two are part of the Apocrypha.)

Ecclesiastes starts off strong, and dare I say, caustic! Vanity of vanities, it is all vanity! The Hebrew word for vanity is “hebel,” which could loosely be translated as “meaninglessness.” The word hebel—meaninglessness—is used 38 times in the book of Ecclesiastes. Meaninglessness is a precarious and provocative theme in a sermon, but I would not be honest if I did not address that topic. The author of Ecclesiastes who is called Teacher, is convinced by this concept of meaninglessness. Hebel would not sell well in self-help sections of bookstores, nor on Superbowl TV commercials. You will not find it on coffee mugs along touristy roads, and you will not sport it on your t-shirts. Although it may not be a popular topic, most of us can identify with this concept as something which we have experienced.

The teacher, Ecclesiastes, was captivated by what it meant to exist. And at the same time, he is denying that anyone can ever figure that out. He winds up saying it is pointless to make meaning. Then in that space between living life and trying to figure out the meaning of life, he says why not just try to enjoy it? I along with many other biblical scholars have wondered how this book found its way into the Bible. So much of the gospel message is about the importance of making meaning. Jesus proclaimed repentance of sin as a way of living life well, and the importance of receiving and extending forgiveness. Jesus’ ministry was purposeful healing, and his days were filled with healing people of all kinds of physical and mental illnesses. Jesus proclaimed a baptism into new life—that one could essentially be born again to create a new relationship with God, and that relationship is where we find true meaning. Jesus taught about the Kingdom, both the Parousia in which we are living now, that Kingdom before us on earth, and the kingdom to come. And of course, Jesus’ whole point of life and death was love; and that was the highest meaning.

I love Meaning Making. I do it with my own life, and I do it professionally with others. It is why I became a chaplain, because I believe in helping people talk through their life stories in order to weave a narrative that helps make sense of the pieces of their lives. But I am intrigued by Ecclesiastes. What if I could set aside all that hard work of meaning making, and just really land on the crux of his message, which is enjoyment. Ecclesiastes spends all this time talking about meaninglessness, and then comes to a powerful conclusion: “Go, eat your food with gladness, and drink your wine with a joyful heart, for God has already approved what you do.” Hmmm, that is hard work to practice joy in the midst of meaninglessness. Not impossible, but difficult.

I am going to tell you a story about a woman named Priscilla who taught me something about joy in unexpected places, and how to bridge the space between meaninglessness and joy. After college I moved from Iowa to Washington, DC to be in the Lutheran Volunteer Corps. I spent my days in an inner-city multi service center in the Howard Shaw neighborhood, observing from the outside in what it means to be poor. Things were turned on its head for me, as my white privilege became more glaringly obvious and limiting. It was humbling to learn my place in the world, and that my own priorities were not necessarily the ones that other people carried. Enter one of my first teachers in this field, Priscilla. My task was to weekly deliver her food bag and check in on her. I would meekly knock on her door, and then eagerly pepper her with questions. Priscilla, what is it that you need? Do you need a doctor appointment scheduled? Do you need any clothing? Do you need any legal advice?

Priscilla every time would look me up and down and throw back her head and laugh. She saw through my thin veneer of ambition and false pride. Girl, all I need from you is for you to find me pictures of Jesus. Pictures of Jesus, whatever in the world could that do for someone?

It took me all year, but eventually I learned that Priscilla was serious. She truly did want me to find pictures of Jesus. In my own judgment, she was poor and unhealthy, and there were many other higher priorities. But Priscilla was communicating her heart’s desire, and I finally heard. What a big relief it was to see a beautiful picture of Black Jesus in a thrift store. The look on Priscilla’s face when I brought that picture was worth all the weeks of food bags I delivered. She had the look of someone who had found what her heart desired.

What our heart desires is very often where we find true joy, but our culture has made it hard to discern true desires apart from media and social pressure. You may remember a book several years ago called The Paradox of Choice, which demonstrated that the more choices there are the less sure we become about what we desire. Shall I choose these blue jeans or the 10,000 other choices? Shall we travel to the Big Horn Mountains or to the Sahara Desert? What sometimes happens with abundant choice is that our mind comes to be confused about our true desires, and muddled about our true joy.

Unlimited choice, as alluring as it is, does not give us control over all our circumstances. And here is where I agree with both Jesus and Ecclesiastes on this topic. Jesus says, “The rain falls on the good and evil alike.” Ecclesiastes goes so far as to say that our own actions are not what determine our future. Remember, Ecclesiastes started off this passage I read with “So all this I laid to my heart, and I concluded that the righteous and the wise, as well as their deeds, are in the hand of God. So, no one knows anything that will come to them, whether it will be love or hatred. The same fate comes to everyone.”

Biblical scholar Choon Long Seow says about this teaching of Ecclesiastes, “There are no rules that will guarantee one certain desired results.” In other words, you can’t earn your way into heaven, and you cannot guarantee your future by your works. Soli deo Gloria—God’s grace alone, and not by our merit—as Luther says.

So how do we take meaninglessness and live as well as we can? Choon Long Seow speaks about this dance between meaningless and enjoyment. She says: “For Quohelet, people ought to enjoy life precisely because life is ephemeral. The living still have the possibility of enjoyment, and the dead do not.” Ecclesiastes emphatically cajoles us to enjoy life in communion with others. Go, eat your food with gladness, and drink your wine with a joyful heart, for God has already approved what you do. Always be clothed in white, and always anoint your head with oil. Enjoy life with your wife, whom you love, all the days of this meaningless life that God has given you under the sun—all your meaningless days.

Yet another theologian, Jurgen Moltmann, gives a further context to prioritizing happiness in the midst of meaninglessness. Moltmann writes:

Joy in life’s happiness motivates us to revolt against the life that is destroyed and against those who destroy life.  Compassion is the other side of the living joy. We don’t accuse God because there is suffering in the world. Rather, we protest in the name of God against suffering and those who cause it.

Joy as a revolt against suffering! This clarifies that our role is to make meaning and joy for the sake of justice and wellbeing for all. There is broader context to the position of personal joy. It widens to be communal joy as a protest against suffering. Maybe it is why Priscilla was so hell-bent on getting me to buy into the priority of pictures of Jesus. Yes, there was poverty in her home, but more important was meaning and purpose and hope. And she wanted a depiction of that force of joy that lies beyond hebel, beyond meaninglessness, beyond vanity.   

So, I think I will continue to contemplate my belly button and figure out the meaning of life because of course I think I will get there sometime! No, but in all seriousness, a smidgen of that work does bring me joy. And Ecclesiastes would put their stamp of approval on that. And for the fact that I cannot control things with my own process of meaning making, I can live with that. I don’t want to be responsible for too much.

Let God do God’s work, and I will continue my simple steps toward living well and loving well. I think I will lean on the words of Jesus when he says he has come that we may have life abundantly. That seems a good counterweight to the beginning of Ecclesiastes’ call to order. Vanity, it is all vanity. So let’s land with that passage from John 10 one last time. I have come that you may have life, and that you may have life abundantly.