Vanity! Vanity! All is vanity! It always reminds me of Kenneth Williams as Julius Caesar, as the daggers rain down upon him: Infamy! Infamy! They’ve all got it in for me!
The writer of Ecclesiastes is not in fact a pessimist or cynic, but rather a realist. Jesus himself echoes the same sentiment in the parable of the rich man who built bigger barns to hoard his possessions (Luke 12). The irony – and indeed the point – was that the man who hoarded things then died, and had no benefit from all his stuff.
There are few things in life more frustrating than spending hours and hours working hard, trying to master and control our situations, only to find that it was utterly futile and pointless. In this respect, the writer of Ecclesiastes is absolutely spot on. From this perspective it is indeed vanity, all in vain. In the end, everything we do is handed on to others, whether in our lifetimes or after our death. We are not in final control, no matter how much we might like to imagine we are, because the story always continues after we have finished our time on stage.
Ecclesiastes chapter 2 is realisation and acceptance that, from the perspective of control, all is indeed futile. Life is short. Possession is temporary; it might be better and more truthful to say that we are stewards, and we simply look after “stuff” for a time, whether that be people, places, projects, situations, other creatures, or things. When we get to Ecclesiastes 3.12-13, the writer concludes, “I know that there is nothing better for people than to be happy and to do good while they live. 13 That each of them may eat and drink, and find satisfaction in all their toil—this is the gift of God.”
So how do we count value? Is it in possession and control? Or rather might it be in the enjoyment and looking after of what is entrusted to us? And if we can acknowledge that all we have will one day belong to others, then perhaps the pain of loss can be more easily endured.
This may sound like some kind of atheist fatalistic non-engagement, but that could not be further from what I mean. If we truly realise that what we enjoy is not in the end under our control, then we can enjoy it and let it go with more freedom. God gives us all we have. He is the Creator, the Organising Principle of the universe. He gives us the Lego to play with, and sits back and watches with love as we create beautiful and wonderful things, and also as we make almighty and far-reaching messes. But in the end, all the bricks are gathered in from us, and given to others to play with, when our turn has ended and we take our places beside God and the angels, watching those who come after us.
Who knows, maybe we get given other things to enjoy and nurture and create with. Maybe we have to sit out and watch and help others for a while. But I know that I don’t want to be the person who misses out on the next game because I’m so busy throwing a tantrum at losing my “bricks” from the first game. I’d rather trust that God who knows and loves and nurtures us will always have something else for us. It may not be easy – in fact it almost certainly won’t be – but it will almost always be worthwhile, provided we don’t make the mistake of trying to own it.
Revd. Talisker