Memento Mori / Tír na nÓg
Memento Mori. Remember...
Our task presently is to read chapters 5 and 6 and seek to discover, daily, where the ideas of Ecclesiastes intersect our lives.
We began our last conversation with a story — Memento Mori. In ancient times, when a Roman general returned victorious from a battle, they would have someone follow them, repeating the phrase Memento Mori, which means remember that you will die. This was to remind them that even though they survived the battle, they needed to remember their own mortality. This is a very sobering thought, like much of Ecclesiastes.
A word that appeared and reappeared in our conversation was struggle. When we meditated on our daily lives and brought those meditations back to Ecclesiastes, we found that our lives had some element of struggle in them. This week, we heard a speaker on a panel say that we have gotten so used to doing things the easy way that we never do things the fun way. There is some joy to be found in persistence and struggle. Certainly, Qoheleth in Ecclesiastes seemed to have struggled; greatly. We tend to blame him, if not disdain him, for that.
Yet scripture is filled with stories of struggle. Jacob wrestled the Angel, Solomon struggled, King David had his issues, and the apostle Paul fought hard to persevere. Even the disciples of Jesus did not understand him. Were they blind? Are we also disciples of Jesus who misunderstand him? Not understanding is the pathway to understanding. Do we see imperfectly? And yet our honesty about our struggle makes us vulnerable and open to others: “I struggle too.”
The Gospels seem to suggest that Jesus created a “messianic secret” about his identity. (See Mark 1:43–45, 4:11, 8:29–30, 9:9.) Oddly, two things stand out in Ecclesiastes. In Ecclesiastes, there also seems to be a “messianic secret” — little is said and little is known about the messiah. Secondly, Qoheleth does not seem to have a well-developed concept of the afterlife.
“In World War I, the soldiers did not know what they were getting into. In World War II, they knew.” Life is like a mystery road trip with an uncertain destination. This creates the possibility that we might be surprised by joy. Qoheleth counsels us to accept the gift of circumstance. Much of what the writer states seems to be so unorthodox. Is it possible that unorthodoxy is orthodox and that we, in our misunderstanding, are unorthodox?
We have the opportunity to accept the gifts from the Creator, the cup of blessing, and the bread of the harvest. But can we find a way to bless everything? Our conversations demonstrate that we want to create An Optimist’s Guide to Ecclesiastes. The writer notes “the tears of the oppressed” and, paradoxically, how the worker can be “preoccupied with joy.”
In our discussion, we quickly envisaged a see-saw, the ups and downs, a season for this and a season for that. A time to heal. Is Ecclesiastes a passion play complete with suffering and death? Is it a kind of gospel? But where is the resurrection? Strangely, the repetition in the text to live well because God will judge every act suggests that there is something more. However, “there is no life without death.” Likewise, there is no death without life. So, live live. The tree is pruned to bring a fuller life. The Wye Marsh, like all marshlands, is dying slowly but is still teeming with life.
There is immense value in Ecclesiastes for the spiritual nomad, one who continues to struggle and persist in their search. Qoheleth, the writer, is grasping at thin vapours, vaping. Chapter 5 begins with a reminder to us to draw near to God to listen. At some point, all of the questions will fade away to accept the gracious gift of a listening silence.
What started as flowers
are quickly becoming seeds,
brown and heavy on stalks
bent low to the earth.
I had a dream for my life.
It bloomed and withered
and left me laden with—
regrets, I thought, and fears.
For years the load I carried!
Until one day I found it
growing lighter on my shoulders,
and behind me a trail of seeds.
