If you’re counting, the words “dead” and “die”
occur six times apiece, “dust” and “death” three times, “one place” (guess
where?) twice, and “Sheol”, “burial” and “stillborn” once each.
To top it all off, the infamous chapter 12 contains such an impressive stack of poetic aging-and-death
metaphors that the first thing most Christians do upon finishing the book is
scramble to the New Testament post-haste in search of something to wash the
taste out of their mouths. I find the
last
nine verses of Romans 8 usually do nicely.
However, as I have probably repeated ad nauseum by now, the Preacher didn’t have the bright, lucid hope we Christians
enjoy to lift his spirits when he wrote Ecclesiastes. He was a believing man attempting
to analyze his world without the aid of revelation, so instead of “neither
death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come,
nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be
able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord”, we get a
bunch of stuff about silver cords and golden bowls and the ceasing of the
grinders.
Meh.
Here in chapter 9, he returns to his
favorite subject, this time without all the poetry.
Ecclesiastes 9:1-3 — The Universality of Death
“But all this I laid to heart, examining it all, how the righteous and the wise and their deeds are in the hand of God. Whether it is love or hate, man does not know; both are before him. It is the same for all, since the same event happens to the righteous and the wicked, to the good and the evil, to the clean and the unclean, to him who sacrifices and him who does not sacrifice. As the good one is, so is the sinner, and he who swears is as he who shuns an oath. This is an evil in all that is done under the sun, that the same event happens to all.”
We’re all going there, says the Preacher, clearly wishing he were not.
Love or Hate
Until the coming of Christ, God’s love for mankind as a whole was at times very much in doubt. It was understood that certain righteous men and women pleased him (“Noah found
favor in the eyes of God”, “Have you considered my
servant Job?”, “Oh man greatly
loved, fear not”), and that Israel was his chosen people, enjoying his special favor, but the love of God for the world at large, and the
explicit offer of salvation for all men, found its perfect expression only in Christ, “For God did not send his Son into the
world to condemn the world, but in order that the
world might be saved through him.”
A God of justice, certainly. A God of love? Maybe only for some favored few. In Solomon’s day it was impossible
to tell. Certainly God’s hatred toward the wicked and sin generally was
very clearly expressed even in Old Testament times: “His soul hates
the wicked and the one who loves violence.” It was understood that the
wicked would be cut off. But what constituted wickedness in the eyes of God?
How “righteous” did one have to be to merit his favor? Would God’s standard be
the same as man’s? Would his approval and love only be expressed to a chosen
few?
“Whether it is love or hate,” says the Preacher, “man does not know.” We needed Christ to make it clear.
The Same Event
When the Preacher says that the “same event happens to all”, and that it is “the same for all”, we should not imagine he is
teaching some sort of universalism or, worse, annihilationism. The Preacher
cannot see beyond the death event itself. He is not contemplating Heaven, Hell,
the extinguishment of the human soul, or any such thing.
The Hebrew Sheol is not the precise equivalent of either Hades or Gehenna, the
lake of fire. It refers to the world of the dead more generally, and to the
grave in particular. Depending on the context, different aspects of death may
be in view, but Sheol’s most prominent features are all expressed negatively: as the Preacher will put it
shortly, “There is no
work or thought or knowledge or wisdom in Sheol, to which you are going.” The
grave is characterized by inactivity, by disconnection
from the physical world, by the
ruination of the body, and by the way in which a common destiny unites
man and beast.
What is absent from the Old Testament Hebrew concept is any sense of a final judgment or torment. That would come
later. The sorrows of death to which the Preacher refers are all centered
around its disconnection from this life and its wrongness in principle, a
complaint which goes all the way back to the fall of man.
So when Solomon says, “the same event happens to all,” he means nothing more profound than that all die and are
buried, and no longer have a place in the land of the living. We should not
stretch its meaning beyond that.
Six Contrasts
The Preacher then says much the same thing six different ways, presumably to stress the universality of the death
experience (or perhaps to get to the magic number six, which we are told is the
number of man). Here are the six contrasts:
righteous / wicked
good / evil
clean / unclean
him who sacrifices / him who does not sacrifice
good / sinner
he who shuns an oath / he who swears
good / evil
clean / unclean
him who sacrifices / him who does not sacrifice
good / sinner
he who shuns an oath / he who swears
It is probably not useful to press these distinctions much beyond the obvious, but it is clear they include the covenant
people of God and Gentiles alike, those who behave honorably and those who do
not, those who are lawkeepers and those who are ignorant of the Law, and even
those who rightly understand the spirit of the Law (“he who shuns an oath”).
None may escape the clutches of death.
This is an Evil
An evil. Here the Preacher associates death with the judgment of God. He has been
speaking of “vanity” throughout Ecclesiastes, but the apparently-indiscriminate
association of the righteous and wicked in death is something that strikes him
as “an evil”. This would seem to compound the problem.
Mind you, this is not the first time Solomon has used the term. Slightly less than half the things he calls “vanity” he also
calls “evil”. If you’re keeping track, depending on how you count them, it’s
actually the seventh time he has remarked on the evilness of a particular event
that commonly takes place in our world. If the same event affects both the
righteous and the wicked, the Preacher says it is more than incomprehensible
and frustrating: it is evil.
Now, he is not wrong in saying that, in the sense that Abraham made much the same point to God. What he said was absolutely
true, and the
Lord even acknowledged his point. If indeed the
righteous fare as the wicked in the hands of God, we might reasonably call
that an evil thing.
Death ≠ Judgment
But the Preacher is wrong if he assumes the death of any particular individual is God’s judgment on him personally. That is
manifestly not the case. As the writer of Psalm 116 puts it, “Precious
in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints.” That unnamed writer is
thought to have been the Preacher’s own father, so it’s a phrase he may have
heard around the house as a child. When God takes his loved ones home, there is
no judgment involved. The fact that wicked men also die is God’s mercy on the
rest of us.
Death came with Adam. Death comes to all. We may rail against it as indiscriminate, and fume about how in death the
righteous “fare as the wicked”, but that is only because apart from revelation
we would not have a clue what happens to us after we exit this world. The event
itself is in one sense a judgment, sure, in that it was the result of original
sin. But the judgment was not of your works or mine, but rather of Adam’s choice
to stand with Eve over everything else.
In fact, we do not know that the righteous fare as the wicked as of the moment of death. We do not know that at all. The
Lord Jesus corrects this misapprehension in
the gospel of Luke. From the moment of death, the rich man does not fare as
Lazarus. He is “in Hades, being in torment”, while Lazarus is at Abraham’s
side, with a great chasm fixed between them which nobody can cross. Their fates
could not be less alike. But of course the Preacher cannot see this while
writing Ecclesiastes. It had yet to be explicitly revealed.
The Character of God and Resurrection
Now, there are certainly hints of immortality and reward sprinkled throughout the Old Testament, but these could
only be arrived at by faith in the character of God as opposed to through
specific, detailed information divinely granted to mankind.
For example, Abraham’s conviction that God will not judge the righteous with the wicked comes out of a strong sense of the
injustice of the act, and he knows with certainty that God is not unjust. So he
says, “Far be that from you! Shall not the Judge of all the earth do
what is just?” Far from questioning God’s justice here, Abraham is strongly
asserting it. He knows injustice is impossible for God, and he is sure that
judging the righteous and the wicked together, treating them the same way, is
impossible for God. And God proves him correct. But it’s God’s character on which he has taken his stand, not some specific Bible
promise.
Likewise, Job
can say:
“I know that my Redeemer lives, and at the last he will stand upon the earth. And after my skin has been thus destroyed, yet in my flesh I shall see God.”
The first-time reader quite reasonably
asks, “How, Job? How can you know?” Only by faith in the character of God.
Unproven But Firmly Believed
Like this chapter of Ecclesiastes, Psalm 49, which is attributed to the sons of Korah, is all about the universality of
death. And yet the writer(s) make a
clear distinction between the fate of the upright and the fate of the rich
and proud:
“Like sheep they are appointed for Sheol; death shall be their shepherd, and the upright shall rule over them in the morning. Their form shall be consumed in Sheol, with no place to dwell. But God will ransom my soul from the power of Sheol, for he will receive me.”
That’s a remarkable statement for which the
writer offers no hard evidence, and yet Christ himself would later vindicate
the faith expressed in this prophetic word.
Finally, there is the Preacher’s father David, who writes
prophetically about resurrection:
“Therefore my heart is glad, and my whole being rejoices; my flesh also dwells secure. For you will not abandon my soul to Sheol, or let your holy one see corruption.”
Hindsight enables us to see clearly that
David is speaking primarily of the resurrection of Christ, but surely in Christ
he is also able to anticipate his own escape from the grave. The whole tone of
the Psalm is joyous: it is not, “God will revive Messiah but leave me to rot.”
Of course David didn’t understand all the details, but he trusted in the
character of God. “You will not abandon
my soul,” he says, completely confident the God in whom he has always put his
trust would never do such a thing.
Did Solomon lack his father’s confidence in the character of God? Perhaps at times. Or maybe it is simply that the authorial
perspective in Ecclesiastes is deliberately restricted to that which a man may
observe with his senses, even if his whole being throbs with longing
for the eternal.
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