We are drawing near the end, and to the highest conclusions of true
human wisdom; and full of deepest interest it is to mark the character
of these conclusions. Reason speaks; that faculty that is rightly
termed divine, for its possession marks those who are "the offspring of
God." He is the Father of _spirits_, and it is in the spirit that
Reason has her seat; whilst in our Preacher she is enthroned, and now
with authority utters forth her counsels. Here we may listen to just
how far she can attain, mark with deepest interest, and indeed
admiration, the grand extent of her powers; and at the same time their
sorrowful limit,--note their happy harmony up to that limit, with her
Creator; and then, when with baffled effort and conscious helplessness,
in view of the deepest questions that ever stir the heart, she is able
to find no answer to them, and groans her exceeding bitter cry of
"Vanity," _then_ to turn and listen to the grace and love of that
Creator meeting those needs and answering those questions,--this is
inexpressibly precious; and with the light thus given we must let our
spirits sing a new song, for we are nigh to God, and it is still true
that "none enter the king's gate clothed with sackcloth." Joy and
praise have their dwelling ever within those boundaries; for He
inhabiteth the praises of His people.
In the first eight verses of our chapter we shall thus find man's
Reason running in a beautiful parallel with the divine, and yet in
marked contrast with the narrow, selfish, short-sighted policy of the
debased wisdom of this world. Their broad teaching is very clear; look
forward,--live not for the present; but instead of hoarding or laying
up for the evil day, cast thy bread--that staff of life, thy
living--boldly upon the waters, it shall not be lost. You have, in so
doing, intrusted it to the care of Him who loseth nothing; and the
future, though perhaps far off, shall give thee a full harvest for such
sowing. But, to be more explicit, give with a free hand without
carefully considering a limit to thy gifts ("a portion to seven and
also to eight" would seem to have this bearing), for who knows when, in
the future, an evil time to thee may make thee the recipient of others'
bounty.
Can we but admire the harmony, I say again, between the voice of poor,
feeble, limited human wisdom and the perfect, absolute, limitless,
divine wisdom of New Testament revelation:
"For I mean not that other men be eased and ye burdened; but by an
equality, that now at this time your abundance may be a supply for
their want, that their abundance also may be a supply for your want:
that there may be equality." This is very closely in the same line.
But Solomon continues: Nay, see the lessons that Nature herself would
teach (and he is no wise man, but distinctly and scripturally "a fool,"
who is deaf to her teachings, blind to her symbols). The full clouds
find relief by emptying themselves on the parched earth, only to
receive those same waters again from the full ocean, after they have
fulfilled their benevolent mission; and it is a small matter to which
side, north or south, the tree may fall, it is there for the good of
whoever may need it there.[1]
The accidental direction of the wind determines which way it falls; but
either north or south it remains for the good of man. In like manner
watch not for favorable winds; dispense on every side, north and south,
of thy abundance; nor be too solicitous as to the worthiness of the
recipients. He who waits for perfectly favorable conditions will never
sow, consequently never reap. Results are with God. It is not thy
care in sowing at exactly the right moment that gives the harvest; all
_that_ is God's inscrutable work in nature, nor can man tell how those
results are attained. Life in its commencements is as completely
enshrouded in mystery now as then. No science, no human wisdom has,
or--it may be boldly added--ever can throw the slightest glimmer of
clear light upon it. Thy part is diligence in sowing, the harvest
return is God's care. "In the morning sow thy seed, and in the evening
withhold not thy hand" is wisdom's counsel here, just as a higher
wisdom teaches "Preach the word: be instant in season and out of
season."
Thus human reason and divine wisdom "keep step" together till the
former reaches its limit; and very soon, in looking forward, is that
limit reached. For listen now to her advice, consequent on the
foregoing. Therefore she says, Let not the enjoyment of the present
blind thee to the future; for alas there stands that awful mysterious
Exit from the scene that has again and again baffled the Preacher
throughout the book. And here again no science or human reason ever
has or ever can throw the faintest glimmer of clear light beyond it.
That time is still, at the end of the book, the "days of darkness." As
poor Job in the day of his trial wails: "I go whence I shall not
return, even to the land of darkness and the shadow of death; a land of
darkness as darkness itself, and of the shadow of death, without any
order, and where the light is as darkness." So Ecclesiastes says, "let
him remember the days of darkness, for they shall be many." Oh sad and
gloomy counsel! Is _this_ what life is? Its bright morning ever to be
clouded,--its day to be darkened with the thoughts of its _end_? Oh
sorrowful irony to tell us to rejoice in the years of life, and yet
ever to bear in mind that those years are surely, irresistibly,
carrying us on to the many "days of darkness." Yes, this is where the
highest intellect, the acutest reason, the purest wisdom of any man at
any time has attained. But
Where Reason fails, with all her powers,
There Faith prevails and Love adores.
Where the darkness by reason's light is deepest, there Love--Infinite
and Eternal--has thrown its brightest beam, and far from that time
beyond the tomb being "the days of darkness," by New Testament
revelation it is the one eternal blessed Day lit up with a Light that
never dims; yes, even sun and moon unneeded for "The glory of God
enlightens it, and the Lamb is the Light thereof." Think of a
Christian with that blessed hope of the coming of his Saviour to take
him to that well-lighted Home--His Father's House--with the sweet and
holy anticipations of seeing His own blessed Face,--once marred and
smitten for him; of never grieving Him more, of sin never again to mar
his communion with Him, of happy holy companionship for eternity with
kindred hearts and minds all tuned to the one glorious harmony of
exalting "Him that sits upon the throne and the Lamb,"--of loving Him
perfectly, of serving Him perfectly, of enjoying Him perfectly,--think
of such a Christian saying, as He looks forward to this bliss, "All
that cometh is _vanity_," and we may get some measure of the value of
the precious word of God.
But now with a stronger blow our writer strikes the same doleful chord:
"Rejoice, O young man, in thy youth, and let thy heart cheer thee in
the days of thy youth, and walk in the ways of thy heart, and in the
sight of thine eyes: but know thou, that for all these things God will
bring thee into judgment."
One would think that there could be no possible misunderstanding the
sorrowful irony of the counsel "to walk in the ways of thy heart, and
in the sight of thine eyes,"--expressions invariably used in an evil
sense (compare Num. xv. 39; Isa. lvii. 17); and yet, to be consistent
with the interpretation to similar counsel in other parts of the book,
expounders have sought to give them a _Christian_ meaning, as if they
were given in the light of revelation and not in the semi-darkness of
nature. But here the concluding sentence, "know thou, that for all
these things God will bring thee into judgment," is quite unmistakable.
But here is indeed a startling assertion. Where has our writer
learned, with such emphatic certainty, of a judgment to come? Have we
mistaken the standpoint whence our book was written? Has the writer,
after all, been listening to another Voice that has taught him what is
on the other side of the grave? Does Revelation make itself heard here
at last? Or may, perhaps, even this be in perfect harmony with all
that has gone before, and be one step further--almost the last
step--along the path that unaided (but not depraved) human Reason may
tread? In a word, does Nature herself give Reason sufficient light to
enable her, when in right exercise, to discover a judgment-seat in the
shadows of the future?
This is surely a question of deepest--yes, thrilling--interest; and, we
are confident, must be answered in the affirmative. It is to this
point that our writer has been climbing, step by step. Nature has
taught him that the future must be looked at rather than the present;
or, rather, the present must be looked at in the light of the future;
for that future corresponds _in its character_ to the present, as the
crop does to the seed, only exceeds it _in intensity_ as the harvest
exceeds the grain sown. Thus bread hoarded gives no harvest; or, in
other words, he who lives for the present alone, necessarily, by the
simplest and yet strongest law of Nature, must suffer loss: _this is
Judgment by Nature's law_. This, too, is the keynote of every
verse--"the future," "the future"; and God, who is clearly discerned by
Reason as behind Nature, "which is but the name for an effect whose
Cause is God,"--God is clearly recognized as returning a harvest in the
_future_, in strict and accurate accord with the sowing of the
_present_. This is very clear. Then how simple and how certain that
if this is God's irrefragable law in Nature, it must have its
fulfillment too in the moral nature of man. It has been one of the
chief sorrows of the book that neither wrong nor confusion is righted
here, and those "days of darkness" to which _all_ life tends are no
discriminative judgment, nor is there anything of the kind in a scene
where "all things come alike to all." Then surely, most surely, unless
indeed man alone sows without reaping,--alone breaks in as an exception
to this law,--a thought not consonant with reason,--there must be to
him also a harvest of reaping according to what has been sown: in other
words a _Judgment_. Although still, let us mark, our writer does not
assume to say anything as to where or when that shall be, or how
brought about, this is all uncertain and indefinite: the fact is
_certain_; and more clear will the outline of that judgment-seat stand
out, as our writer's eyes become accustomed to the new light in which
he is standing,--the fact is already certain.
Solemn, most solemn, is this; and yet how beautiful to see a true
reason--but let us emphasize again not _depraved_, but exercising her
royal function of sovereignty over the flesh, not subject to
it--drawing such true and sure lessons from that which she sees of the
law of God in Nature. It is a _reasonable_, although in view of sin, a
fearful expectation; and with exactness is the word chosen in Acts:
Paul _reasoned_ of judgment to come; and reason, with conscience,
recognized the force of the appeal, as "Felix trembled." Thus that
solemn double appointment of man: death and judgment has been discerned
by Nature's light, and counsel is given in view of each. We said that
our writer had reached the climax of his perplexities in view of death
in chap. ix. when he counseled us to "merrily drink our wine"; but now
judgment discerned, death itself even not necessarily the end, at
length soberness prevails; and with an evident solemn sincerity he
counsels "Therefore remove sorrow from thy heart, and put away evil
from thy flesh, for childhood and youth are vanity."
[1] The current interpretation of this clause, that it speaks of the
future state of man after death, seems hardly in keeping with the
context, and certainly not at all in keeping with the character and
scope of the book. Ecclesiastes everywhere confesses the strict
limitation of his knowledge to the present scene. This is the cause of
his deepest groanings that he cannot pierce beyond it; and it would be
entirely contrary for him here, in this single instance, to assume to
pronounce authoritatively of the nature of that place or state of which
he says he knows nothing.