by Chris Alexion, Copyright October 26, 2006, all rights reserved. 365 views
In Ecclesiastes, the Preacher ransacks human experience for some shred of hope or purpose "under the sun." He sifts through the rubble, listening for a whisper that maybe man has some chance of meaningfully defining himself.
One of the sources which Solomon raises and dismisses early on in the search is nature. Several hugely-influential schools of thought have looked in the same place for knowledge and ethics. Empiricism, boasting great names like Locke and Hume, claims to base all knowledge on man's experience of the world. Romanticism–with poets like Wordsworth singing its praise–looks for moral truth in syruppy impulses from vernal woods. And then there are Buddhist and Native American religions, which talk of peace and even oneness with the world.
All these outlooks tend to view the repetition of nature as something good. But Solomon comes to a different conclusion, viewing the cyclical nature of the world as a sign that no progress is really ever made. As Bill Einwechter points out, the circularity of Ecclesiastes is that of a hamster running in a wheel.
The natural, without reference to the supernatural, is an endless cycle of toil and repetition; there's nothing new. The sun rises and sets, only to hurry back to do it all over again. The wind whirls in swift circuits around the earth, but always ends up back where it started. Numberless streams and rivers all pour their loads into the sea, but do they ever finish filling it? Men are born, grow old and die, but one generation hardly remembers the next. Where's the hope for something new? That which has always happened will go on happening.
Solomon's healthy skepticism here can teach us a few things. We can learn, not only that nature is incomplete as a reference point, but that she provides faulty guidance in morality. Clark pointed out that following the "natural" order of things leads just as easily to brutality and tyranny. Caesar and Stalin can be proud:
Looking carefully on nature and seeing it red in tooth and claw, they can conclude that the universe is indifferent to the fate of any individual and that it is the law of nature for the brutal to rule the meek. There are natural [emphasis mine] inclinations for domination and a will to power. And if Aquinas says otherwise, he can't see straight and reasons like a bourgeois gentilhomme. (Clark, "Natural Law and Revelation," The Christian Statesman, vol. 143, no. 4)
This highlights the absurity of looking to "Mother Nature" as a yardstick of how we should act. Nature may be our mother, but she's quite a wench.
Apart from grace, what does that make us?
1 • LHR • October 27, 2006 • 7:53 PM
Great post! The study of Ecclesiastes has been very interesting.
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