Ecclesiastes 4

Ecclesiastes 4

Once again I am frustrated reading the King James Version. How can I read Shakespeare with comprehension but struggle to make out of some of these wordings and phrasings? That said, some of the pleasure of interpretation is in attempting to piece together a confusing puzzle. So I’ll attempt to make sense of the KJV before consulting another translation.

In this chapter, Ecclesiastes once again observes some of the “rules” of existence by noting the relationship between the oppressor and the oppressed, claiming that those never born are better off than those who have lived to experience the inevitable suffering of life, seeing that it is better to be a member of even a small community than to be alone, and once again lamenting the fact that after death no one is remembered.

Analysis and reaction

4:1 “So I returned and considered all the oppressions that are done under the sun; and behold the tears of such as were oppressed, and they had no comforter; and on the side of their oppressors there was power; but they had no comforter.”

Oppression is a cycle, and it is one nearly impossible to break because those who oppress are also the ones who hold power in a society. Well, this is certainly true, and I’m sure this reality has dampened many a spirit of those who have attempted to combat this cycle. I’d like to focus on the phrase “they had no comforter.” Once again, even though Ecclesiastes isn’t a book of prophecy or of history, it’s hard to read it without thinking ahead to the New Testament and to the ways in which Jesus changed reality. As his company, Jesus took the impoverished and the oppressed. He saw them, he touched them, he conversed with them. He did not seize power from their oppressors; however, it does seem that in Jesus the oppressed finally received a comforter of sorts, and of course, with his going away he even named his successor, that other part of the triune God, “the Comforter.” The rules haven’t exactly changed: Ecclesiastes' observations about the oppressed and their oppressors remains equally true now, but after Jesus, and in the time of the Holy Spirit, we see an illustration of the already-not-yet-kingdom in that a Comforter for the oppressed is among us. It may not be possible to see this without faith, but this is yet another way in which God has broken through and into world history to change reality.

It is unclear who the second “they had no comforter” refers to in the KJV. The nearest antecedent to this “they” suggests that the oppressors don’t have a comforter either, but the obvious question is, Why would they need one? I’m assuming this is a miscommunication by the translation. (Having consulted the NRSV, NLV, and The Message, I've concluded the most logical interpretation is the correct one: the second reference to "no comforter" is simply a reinforcement of the first, meaning the oppressed have no one to comfort them.)

4:2-3

[paraphrased] It’s better to be dead than alive. It’s even better to have never been born, so that you won’t know the evil and suffering that life brings.

I must confess, I’m a sucker for this sentiment. When babies and toddlers cry, I like to say to them “Life is hard, isn’t it.” In my very young days, I used to fantasize about having come into existence as an inanimate object like ketchup instead of as a human being who has no choice but to experience consciousness, to make choices and to struggle with relationships, even those naturally forming ones like the ones we have with our fathers, mothers, and siblings. There is difficulty and struggle from the get-go. Though life is full of blessings, we must constantly remind ourselves to see them, and when there is suffering, pain, and anxiety, though we must acknowledge these things, if they remain our focal point we will fail to discover joy and to love those around us.

As a “book of wisdom,” it is interesting that Ecclesiastes is so consistently pessimistic. In writing about Chapter 4, I’m beginning to wonder if perhaps this is an emotional book. It is not emotional in the way the Psalms are, full of the highs and lows of joy and grief, ecstasy and regret, intimacy and disconnection, but it nonetheless has an underlying whiff of what could be bitterness or anger. The Preacher’s observations, however, are delivered rather matter-of-factly, and thus I think the overall tone remains a make-the-best-of-it kind of perspective rather than a ranting against all the injustices that can be named.

4:8-12

[summarized] It is better to be with others than to be alone.

[paraphrased] In these verses, the writer recounts multiple ways in which this premise is supported: it is more satisfying to work alongside someone involved in the same work; it is more rewarding to share the fruits of one’s work with others than to enjoy them alone; it is useful to have the support of someone else, whether that support be physical or emotional; it is better to have the physical presence of someone else than to be physically isolated; and it is safer to go through life together with someone else because friends will stand up for you when others run you down. Having one friend is a big help, but having two makes one nearly indestructible.

This is a wonderful section of verses, and they represent ancient wisdom confirmed by modern psychology: not being alone actually extends one’s life-expectancy. But I would add that part of this powerful effect comes from the reality of being accepted as one is, and this can only happen when we are “known.” Those with whom we work alongside “know” us in a way that is unique. They witness our labors and see (hopefully) some aspect of our strength as unique individuals. We spend large amounts of time with these people, and there is no substitute for time together; like a book we have re-read, a poem we have memorized, a painting we have gazed on time and again, there is something about the sheer element of time in someone’s presence that creates a level of knowing. It may not qualify as intimacy, but being known even in partial ways is something that builds us up. And in some settings, for example in the fiction of Wendell Berry, we see that even this community formed through labor can build true intimacy and lead us to the astounding commitments of trust and love. But this level of life-extending intimacy is even more common in the company of friends, relationships that in our current culture are usually even more special than shared labor. These are relationships in which we can let down all walls and feel a freedom to be ourselves, and to be fully seen and still accepted is a powerful experience. In thinking of this truth, I cannot help but think of a three-word line from a nearly three-hour movie, James Cameron’s Avatar: “I see you.” Within the context of the movie, this brief, spoken statement carries the weight of the entire film. The statement “I see you” could easily be translated “I love you” if not for our cultural watering down of this latter phrase. For what is behind “I see you” is simply this: I recognize who you are and I accept you. I have no illusions about you and I am committed to you. This is the power of going through life not alone.

4:13-16

The King James Version presents all manner of confusion in attempting a straightforward interpretation. It seems that the writer is saying something about someone who rises up from low estate to have some magnitude of influence, that this is an admirable accomplishment, and that it will nonetheless be forgotten after this person’s death.

After consulting the NRSV I can confirm the above interpretation and add a nuance. As his example, the writer observes that even someone who has been in prison can become a leader and be followed by many (historical example = Malcolm X) and yet that even this astounding example of achievement will be forgotten by future generations. It seems only fitting that the writer closes this chapter with his consistent theme: this too is vanity, i.e. all accomplishments are temporal in the most literal sense. They are short-lived, as are our lives.

Commentary: There’s certainly no denying the distillation process of history, as only minuscule bits of it remain preserved over time. I suppose the logical question is, Does this make our lives meaningless? My guess is that the Preacher’s answer would be, Yes. Essentially. To some extent. Yet this is not all he has to say. The theme of his wisdom so far has been to observe the unchangeable realities we face as living beings: we have a finite amount of time; the influence of our actions are limited by the rules of the cycle of life; we should nonetheless engage with our lives and take pleasure in them. Given these parameters, we can be the fool and “eat our own flesh,” or we can be the poor prisoner who does something with himself. Which is better? Does it even matter? It seems to the Preacher that it does. Despite his pessimism, recognizing that what God has given us is good is the rallying call that combats fatalism. If what we do won’t be remembered, why should we do anything? Because doing something brings pleasure, enacts our gift of choice, and is perhaps what we have been created for. With this perspective, we can acknowledge that life is both a “burden” and a “gift,” and we can choose to focus on the gift.

In closing, I'd like to return to the example of Malcolm X. He was assassinated fifty-two years ago at the age of thirty-nine. He taught himself to read and write effectively while he was in prison. While there, and thanks to his commitment to make the most of his situation, he found a purpose in life. I suspect that whatever decisions led to his imprisonment, he was never "the fool." But he was certainly the oppressed. Will he be remembered? He is certainly remembered a half-century after his death, though the extent to which history preserves his memory is yet to be determined. I don't yet know if Ecclesiastes will pontificate on the weight of memory versus action, but I do believe that Malcolm X exemplified the resignation of the Preacher; he saw the injustices in the cycle of life and he chose to labor within and against them. He was driven by both hate and righteousness, and despite the apparent contradiction, such a course is no deviation from the wisdom of Ecclesiastes. One only need look back one chapter to see there is (in no particular order) "a time to hate," "a time for war," "a time to uproot," "a time to refrain from embracing," and "a time to speak," and Malcolm X did all these things in the interest of "a time to mend," "a time to plant," "a time to heal," and "a time for peace." Regardless of our conceptions of others, and regardless of others' conceptions of ourselves, we would do well--within the realization of our temporal impotence--to commit our lives to such purposes.