Sermon Discussion Questions:
1. What does the section on "time and chance" (Eccl 9:11-12) teach you?
2. Why do you think Solomon uses the example of the "poor, wise man" in Eccl 9:13-16 as an example of greatness? Can you see any ways that the world's definition of "greatness" has influenced you?
3. Why is "might" (shouting of a ruler, weapons of war) such a tempting substitution for quiet wisdom?
4. Can you think of anyways you are tempted to "use the enemy's Ring", ways you try to use sin for good intentions in your life?
5. How is the path of righteousness, in a way, less effective than the path of sin?
As a teenager, John Ronald met and fell in love with a young woman named Edith Bratt. But, being an orphan, the young John Ronald was under the guardianship of a Catholic priest who opposed their relationship. He banned John from seeing her. Remarkably, John Ronald submitted to him and had no contact with Edith for several years. It was only after the guardianship ended when he turned twenty-one that he resumed contact with Bratt. Upon doing so, he learned that she was engaged to another man. He spent a week trying to persuade her to break off the engagement and resume their relationship. He was successful, and they married soon after. (I am indebted to Jake Meador’s wonderful article, “The Long Defeat of History” for this anecdote).
The young couple was married in March of 1916. Not three months later, John Ronald left to serve with the British army in WWI as a junior officer, despite personally having no desire to fight or join the war. Later, he wrote, “Junior officers were being killed off, a dozen a minute. Parting from my wife then ... it was like a death.” In fact, while serving in France, nearly all of his friends were killed.
These two vignettes give an insightful picture into the moral psychology of John Ronald. Why submit to the whims of a guardian when he was in love? (He obviously did not agree with his guardian, since he went on to marry her anyways.) Why enlist in a war that he felt no compulsion to support? We know that he wound up, miraculously, still marrying his wife, and (even more miraculously) wasn’t killed at the Somme, like so many British men were. But he had no guarantee of those outcomes! He risked so much! You can toss a marble into a teacup from a roof, but the odds aren’t likely. Why do it? Because honor and duty demanded it. Because it was right, even if the end was uncertain. To disobey his guardian or fail to support his country would be dishonorable, **regardless of what he felt.
This unyielding commitment to do what was right, regardless of the outcome, in the face of great risk and danger, eventually permeated John Ronald Reuel Tolkien’s great work, The Lord of the Rings. In fact, the main theme of the Lord of the Rings is that the right thing almost always seems doomed to failure—it is a “fool’s hope.” The forces of evil are stronger, more numerous than the forces of good. The influence of Mordor permeates all lands, and even begins to work in the hearts of those within the small fellowship assigned to guard the ring. And the only hope for salvation comes through the impossible chance of a defenseless pair of hobbits, infiltrating the enemy’s land, armed with little but friendship and faith, to destroy the one ring—a marble tossed from a skyscraper! In fact, the great tension and temptation of the story is that the only fool-proof chance the forces of good have to defeat the enemy is to use the enemy’s greatest weapon—the one ring—against him. But if they do, they themselves will become the next Dark Lord. So the turmoil throughout is that they must cast away strength and instead rely on weakness. Why?
Why did Tolkien obey his guardian? Why did he fulfill his duty to his country? Not because the outcome was guaranteed. But because it was right. Tolkien’s work is a true myth. And is why it was voted the greatest book of the 20th century. It is unapologetically Christian in its framework and presents to us the eternal truths of God, breathed through silver. Our passage in Ecclesiastes today will show us this same theme.
11 Again I saw that under the sun the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, nor bread to the wise, nor riches to the intelligent, nor favor to those with knowledge, but time and chance happen to them all. 12 For man does not know his time. Like fish that are taken in an evil net, and like birds that are caught in a snare, so the children of man are snared at an evil time, when it suddenly falls upon them. 13 I have also seen this example of wisdom under the sun, and it seemed great to me. 14 There was a little city with few men in it, and a great king came against it and besieged it, building great siegeworks against it. 15 But there was found in it a poor, wise man, and he by his wisdom delivered the city. Yet no one remembered that poor man. 16 But I say that wisdom is better than might, though the poor man’s wisdom is despised and his words are not heard. 17 The words of the wise heard in quiet are better than the shouting of a ruler among fools. 18 Wisdom is better than weapons of war, but one sinner destroys much good.
- Eccl 9:11-18
Time and Chance (11-12)
Again I saw that under the sun the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, nor bread to the wise, nor riches to the intelligent, nor favor to those with knowledge, but time and chance happen to them all. (Eccl 9:11)
The Preacher gives us five examples of unexpected outcomes. “Under the sun” (read: on the earth), he sees that sometimes the faster runner doesn’t win the race, the strongest warrior doesn’t win the battle, the wisest and smartest are not always rewarded with money and favor. Sometimes, the runner slips, the strongest fighter is slain by an unforeseen arrow, the eloquence and knowledge of the wise goes unheeded.
The examples given feel so removed from our life, maybe we could think of a modern version:
“Again I saw that under the sun the high-paying job is not to the most qualified, nor the desirable spouse to the most eligible, nor the well-behaved children to the most intentional, nor the political win to the wise and virtuous, but time and chance happen to them all.”
The Preacher’s words are not denigrating wisdom, strength, or skill. We could even say that most of the time the race does go to the swift, the battle to the strong. We will see in just a bit that the Preacher will commend wisdom. The same voice that is speaking here, speaks in the book of Proverbs, where he commends wisdom, hard work, and strength. But it is a consequence of living in a fallen world that sometimes, hard work doesn’t pay off—even if most of the time it does.
So, there is this note of uncertainty and angst that hangs over all our endeavors. You cannot guarantee an outcome. You study all night for the test, but the professor surprises you by asking a series of questions that you didn’t anticipate; and somehow, the guy who didn’t stay up late to study, through sheer luck, aces the test. What!? We are left outraged—the world has not opened itself up to us the way we thought, it doesn’t play fair. Time and chance happen to them all.
Time and chance sounds like a blind, impersonal force that moves the cogs of history. We know that isn’t true, of course. God sovereignly, providentially governs history, even the very details of our lives. Jesus teaches us that sparrows cannot fall from the sky, hairs cannot fall from your head, apart from God’s will (Matt 10:29-31). Which is very comforting, indeed. The school bus is not barreling down the highway with no driver, just time and chance governing where it crashes. There is a good, loving, wise Father in control. Yet, we do not know what God’s will looks like. And, in fact, sometimes it looks very peculiar to us.
Sometimes, according to verse 11, God’s will appears to us as random and haphazard—like, the swiftest runner tripping and losing the race. Practically, we ought to be slow to interpret our own (and other’s) plight as proof that God is not at work, or that God is judging someone. When Tolkien was sitting in the trenches in France, his company was overwhelmed by a plague of lice. The de-licing cream given by the medics did nothing to stop it, and eventually Tolkien contracted trench fever from the lice. He became so violently ill that he was eventually sent back to England where, too emaciated and weak, was deemed unfit for combat. Shortly after Tolkien left, his entire company was slaughtered. Had Tolkien remained, he too would have likely perished. The mysteries of providence are hard to discern in the moment.
12 For man does not know his time. Like fish that are taken in an evil net, and like birds that are caught in a snare, so the children of man are snared at an evil time, when it suddenly falls upon them. (Eccl 9:12)
The ultimate expression of this frustration is our own death. At a certain point, unknown to us, we will be caught in a trap we cannot shake loose. Tolstoy, in The Death of Ivan Illyich, describes dying like being shoved into a dark sack against our will. Maybe you are a “type A” person who loves makings plans for your life. Or maybe you are a person who is easily irritated when things don’t go your way. Or maybe you are just a person who has become accustomed to the conveniences of modernity—microwaves, streaming software, doorstep grocery delivery. Whoever you are, you hate it when your will is thwarted—the software crashes, the traffic stops, the child ignores you. And that is irritating, but that is also just part of life. But maybe more than ever, it is tempting for us to believe that nothing should run contrary to our will. All of us today assume that our lives are like yachts that can cut straight lines through the waves and currents of life, arriving precisely at our destination when we desire to. Sometimes a wave knocks us off course, but with enough power and technique, we can get back on course. But Ecclesiastes tells us, in reality, we are like the fish in the water who are one day caught in a net and thrown into the boat of death, forced into a dark sack that we cannot come out of. When is that? We don’t know. God’s will is a mystery. Man does know his time…it happens suddenly, without warning.
This is the ultimate expression of the “time and chance” the Preacher speaks of back in vs. 11. Which tells us that every inconvenience, every failure when we expected success, every detour, every disrupted plan should serve as a dress-rehearsal for the final, last detour: death itself. Some day, when you have many things planned, a rock will fall across your path that you will not be able to traverse. So now, when things don’t go your way, remind yourself: A much greater impediment is coming, I know not when. Take a minute to ask yourself: Am I prepared to die? How can you be ready to die? Put your trust in Jesus Christ, the One who conquered not only death, but the very aspect that makes your death so terrifying: your sin. If you put your faith in Jesus Christ, and make Him Captain and Lord over your life—if He gets to call the shots, not you; if His Word is Supreme, not yours—then He will take your sins from you, and bear them away on the Cross. The work of Jesus Christ makes death—the greatest enemy of mankind—into our servant. The means by which we are ushered into life and glory, forever.
Greatness and Power (13-16)
I have also seen this example of wisdom under the sun, and it seemed great to me. 14 There was a little city with few men in it, and a great king came against it and besieged it, building great siegeworks against it. (Eccl 9:13-14)
What does the Preacher consider a great example of wisdom? It is a David and Goliath story. On the one hand, there is a “little city with few men in it.” On the other, you have a “great king” with “great siegeworks” and, we presume, a great army! Pause for a moment: remember, Solomon was a great king himself, with a great army. And here, he is telling us that he has seen something that “seemed great” to him. It would not be misplaced to assume that the “great” thing he has seen is the great king with his great siegeworks. Greatness recognizes greatness! But Solomon’s eye turns elsewhere, to a different kind of greatness.
15 But there was found in it a poor, wise man, and he by his wisdom delivered the city. Yet no one remembered that poor man. 16 But I say that wisdom is better than might, though the poor man’s wisdom is despised and his words are not heard. (Eccl 9:15-16)
Here the wise man is the “great” thing the Preacher has taken notice of. This nameless man is great in Solomon’s eyes because of his extraordinary wisdom to turn a powerful army away. But he is not great by many standards that the world gives us for greatness. First off, he is poor, and there are fewer things that immediately disqualify you from the halls of greatness today than poverty. Further, despite his remarkable act of delivering the city from destruction, he is quickly forgotten (cf. Eccl 4:13-16), and his wisdom is even despised and so his words are ignored. This poor, wise man was instrumentally useful to deliver the city in its crisis, but no one honors him afterwards.
The world constantly disciples us about what it means to be “great.” Money, education, influence, status, beauty, charisma…no one becomes an Instagram influencer by quietly fulfilling their responsibilities; you have a splashy, shiny, exciting life! But a quiet life is quite literally the posture commended in the next section by the Preacher. The Preacher includes this short observation because he (rightfully) assumes that we are more influenced by worldly greatness than we realize. It is hard for us to avoid the allure of wealth and power because wealth and power get stuff done, they can guarantee results! Wisdom is better than might, Solomon argues, even if it relegates you to the rolls of the forgotten and despised.
But can’t we be wise and strong? Wise and wealthy? Sure. They are not mutually exclusive categories. In fact, the book of Proverbs has much to say about how wisdom, in general, will likely make you wealthier and more influential!
But Solomon’s point is (1) Time and chance happen to everyone. This man was so wise he was able to persuade a mighty king to call off his army from a defenseless city…yet, he was poor and despised. Pursuing wisdom and righteousness is not a fool-proof guarantee to success. And (2) if that is true, then always prioritize wisdom over success, over strength, over wealth. Wisdom is better! Righteousness is better! What will it profit a man if he wins the world, yet forfeits his soul?
Why is this “great” in Solomon’s eyes? Obviously, it shows the power of wisdom. As he will say soon, wisdom is better than weapons of war. This poor man won the fight without drawing a sword. That is great. But also, I think Solomon zeroes in on this example because the poor, wise man does the right thing, despite not earning any accolades or fanfare. Sometimes we only ever do the right thing for the right payout. Who wants to do the hard and thankless job? But when someone does the hard and thankless job, you know they are not doing with ulterior motives.
Jesus, the one greater than Solomon, helps recalibrate our definitions of greatness:
And they came to Capernaum. And when he was in the house he asked them, “What were you discussing on the way?” 34 But they kept silent, for on the way they had argued with one another about who was the greatest. 35 And he sat down and called the twelve. And he said to them, “If anyone would be first, he must be last of all and servant of all.” 36 And he took a child and put him in the midst of them, and taking him in his arms, he said to them, 37 “Whoever receives one such child in my name receives me, and whoever receives me, receives not me but him who sent me.” (Mark 9:33-37)
Notice what Jesus does here: (1) without qualifications or conditions, He categorically inverts the order that we assume. He does not say: “if anyone wants to be first, he must be last of all, but that doesn’t mean…” No, he simply says: Greatness is found in the low places. The most exalted in my Kingdom, is the greatest servant. Qualifications are helpful, but sometimes Jesus realizes that the thorn is wedged in so deep, a direct and piercing confrontation is needed. (2) Notice the example he gives. Solomon uses the example of a poor, wise man who is forgotten and despised as his example of true greatness. Jesus uses another person who is often forgotten and left with the hard and thankless task: those who take care of children.
Jesus offers us a brilliant test-case for whether or not we actually take His words seriously. You can theoretically agree that the upside-down kingdom of Jesus is subversive and be quick to publicly decry those who exploit power in Jesus’ name. Sure. But, do you serve in the church nursery? Do you like kids? Do you receive them into your life the same way you would receive Jesus? Talk is cheap. One way the world disciples us into its mold of “greatness” is by making children seem like an inconvenience and burden, something you can edit out of your life. Why is our nation so fixated on abortion as a pillar of social rights? Because, the underlying message is, “Children are only good when I get to choose when I have them. Otherwise, they ruin your life.” And one way that Jesus helps disciple us into His Kingdom is prioritizing the hard, thankless, and often invisible, always worth-it task of caring for children.
Silence and Shouting (17-18)
17 The words of the wise heard in quiet are better than the shouting of a ruler among fools. 18 Wisdom is better than weapons of war, but one sinner destroys much good. - Eccl 9:17-18
Earlier, the Preacher told us that wisdom is better than might (9:16). Here, he gives different forms of “might”—the shouting of a king, and weapons of war. These are attractive tools of strength because they ensure that you can get what you want! Speaking wise words quietly does not guarantee that anyone will hear you! In fact, the poor, wise man was despised and “his words were not heard”! But if you shout? If you use mockery and mud-slinging? If you point a gun at someone? You can typically get what you want. You can guarantee results! Raising your voice or having weapons of war aren’t inherently evil, of course. But, they are often seen as sufficient replacements for wisdom. If you have to choose between quiet wisdom, or loud folly that can guarantee results? And the final line, “one sinner destroys much good,” shows us that the ultimate contrast here is between wisdom and folly, righteousness and sin. But this sin is particularly dangerous for us, for it is the sin that presents itself in the guise of effectiveness.
And we don’t want to be ineffective, right? But the contrast here between the quiet words of the wise (that are often unheeded) and the shouting of a foolish ruler who has weapons of war is meant to show you that there is an inherent inefficiency baked into righteousness. What do I mean? If you are committed to righteousness and wisdom, then you will be conscience bound to not lie, cheat, or steal. But evil has no such restriction. They can lie, they can slander, they can cheat, they can use force to intimidate others. The boundaries you are hemmed in by, they are not. So the fight isn’t fair. It never is. It is a common trope in movies and stories now that the hero, when given the chance to execute his enemies, usually spares them, and hands them over to a court for justice. That reveals that our collective conscience as a culture still valorizes the ideal of mercy over vengeance. But that is the point, the good guy is limited in a way that the bad are not—wicked men don’t deal in mercy, and so are effective in silencing their enemies.
At one point in the Lord of the Rings, Gandalf the wizard, explains: “War is upon us and all our friends, a war in which only the use of the Ring could give us surety of victory. It fills me with great sorrow and great fear: for much shall be destroyed and all may be lost. I am Gandalf, Gandalf the White, but Black is mightier still.”
Shouting is mightier than silence, weapons of war stronger than wisdom. And, you may be tempted to dispense with your conscience for the sake of results because you are tired of being on the losing side. Maybe you are in an argument with someone and you know that you are right, they are wrong, but you can’t think of how to convince them, and the thought “I could lie” flashes across your mind. Maybe you have been procrastinating at work and think, “I could skip church and get caught up.” Maybe you are frustrated that things aren’t going your way, and exploding in anger seems like the only way to reassert control. Apologizing, telling the truth, refusing to cut corners, practicing humility, restraint, love of enemy, believing the best about others, working hard when no one else is, integrity, charity, patience, gentleness, being quick to forgive—none of those things will guarantee you any kind of certain results in a fallen world. Black is mightier still.
Yet, “one sinner destroys much good.” The path of righteousness may seem like it is taking you on a winding and bizarre path into obscurity and irrelevance, it may feel like you are dying on that path. While the path of sin is well-lit, comfortable, certain, and popular. But if you attempt to use the enemy’s path to arrive in the kingdom of God, you’ll find that the broad path doesn’t take you where it promises. It’s end is destruction. Thomas Aquinas wrote that of the many reasons we should avoid sin, one of them should be not only how it affects the world around us, but how it affects our own souls. Sin “binds the will and darkens the intellect.” Sin, in other words, twists you into something else, and a small compromise now will make room for a larger one later.
In a letter to his son, Christopher, who was deployed in Germany during WWII, Tolkien writes of how frustrated he is that the BBC has sunk to the same level of jingoistic propaganda that the Germans use. When describing the enemy, they describe all Germans as “rattlesnakes” fit only for “extermination.” And Tolkien quickly finds himself wanting to then describe the authors in the BBC as “rattlesnakes”, but he catches himself: “You can't fight the Enemy with his own Ring without turning into an Enemy.”
What Do You Do?
Do the Right Thing, No Matter What
Life is complicated. Outcomes are not guaranteed. Time and chance happen to us all. Therefore we should be prepared to make the hard choice of doing the right thing, even when sin seems more effective. Maybe if you lost your temper you would win the argument, maybe if you slept with your boyfriend he wouldn’t break up with you, maybe if lied on your taxes you’d have more money…but you would destroy much good.
Not every decision before us is simple. Sometimes discerning the right thing to do is hard. But, one element that we can remove from our calculations that make things hard is the element of “how to manufacture the most desirable outcome.” Reject that. Entrust yourselves to a faithful God who controls your times and chances, and pursue wisdom and righteousness. Be content with a small, good thing. Maybe you won’t change the world, but that’s okay. You don’t need to see the end, you don’t need guaranteed results—you’ve already accepted that the world, the flesh, and the devil are mightier than you. Your efforts are doomed, in a sense. You cannot win. Jesus sends you out as sheep amidst lions and wolves! He told us that we should expect the world to hate and misunderstand us, because that’s what they did to Him! We want to use whatever influence and power we have to do as much good as we can. We don’t pursue obscurity and irrelevance as an end in itself, we don’t pursue defeat and weakness as ends in themselves: we pursue wisdom and righteousness and when they take us into the path of what the world describes as folly, we don’t walk away! We don’t compromise to keep a seat at the table! To win the argument! We don’t use the enemy’s ring!
We remember that all things are ultimately in God’s hands, so we can pray, do good, and let God worry. Our job isn’t to engineer the world into what we think it should be; that’s God’s job. You may hate the darkness of our days: “So do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us. There are other forces at work in this world Frodo, besides the will of evil.”
Reject Despair and Anxiety
“Despair is only for those who see all ends. We do not.” Anxiety is imagining the future without God in it. Both despair and anxiety feed on a presumed knowledge of the future.
The poor wise man had no certainty that the great king would listen to him. He could have had his head chopped off as an example of what the king would do to the rest of the city. Peace and joy in the Christian life don’t come from certain outcomes in this life. This life is a long defeat against the forces of evil. But we are certain of some things. In a letter, Tolkien explains:
“Actually I am a Christian…so that I do not expect 'history' to be anything but a 'long defeat' –though it contains (and in a legend may contain more clearly and movingly) some samples or glimpses of final victory.”
Final victory! Why risk your life? Why do the right thing, even if it leaves in the dustbin of history? Why plod along in quiet faithfulness, working a thankless job? Because final victory is coming. Your small, good deeds will be caught up in the final wave of healing that will wash over the land. The king shall return to His throne, and his hands are healing hands; the darkness of evil will be banished forever, and the white tree shall bloom again, and everything sad will come untrue.
And man does not know his time. At any moment that could happen. Or we could die and be brought into God’s presence immediately. So don’t lose heart. Maybe you are panicking about the state of the world, about what will happen with the election, about what your children will experience. And that can generate a great deal of anxiety and despair. But for the Christian, we are certain that the path of sin is closed to us. The path of righteousness may be hard, but its end is life. All things are in God’s hands. And He is coming soon to restore all things. So, we need not live as if life under the sun is all. There is life beyond.
“If we are all going to be destroyed by an atomic bomb, let that bomb when it comes find us doing sensible and human things—praying, working, teaching, reading, listening to music, bathing the children, playing tennis, chatting to our friends over a pint and a game of darts—not huddled together like frightened sheep and thinking about bombs. They may break our bodies (a microbe can do that) but they need not dominate our minds.” (Lewis, “On Living in an Atomic Age”)
