One of the more disturbing themes in Ecclesiastes is Solomon’s near-exaltation of death. In Chapter 6, he claimed that stillborn children are better off than people who have lived long lives. Chapter 7 takes up this theme with a vengeance. Anyone who doesn’t read these passages in the context of the whole book may think that Solomon was a nihilist who promoted suicide.

He starts in verses 1–3: A good name is better than precious ointment, and the day of death than the day of one’s birth; better to go to the house of mourning than to go to the house of feasting, for that is the end of all men; and the living will take it to heart. Sorrow is better than laughter, for by a sad countenance the heart is made better Ecc. 7:1–3.

Was Solomon a nihilist?

Rather than promoting suicide, I believe that Solomon is presenting a paradox that is designed to make us stop and think about it. In the context of our search for the meaning of life, Solomon is pointing out that this very quest is inspired by death, mourning, and sorrow. If life was always about celebrating births, feasting, and laughing, most people would never even think to ask, “What’s the point of it all?”

C.S. Lewis made this point in his book The Problem of Pain: “We can ignore even pleasure. But pain insists upon being attended to. God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world.”

This is not to say that pain is a wonderful thing and we should all be masochists. Not at all. The point here is that pain itself is not meaningless. If we believe that life itself is meaningless, then pain is just pain, and there is nothing to learn from it. But if you think that life has meaning, then so does pain.

Solomon agrees: Consider the work of God; for who can make straight what He has made crooked? In the day of prosperity be joyful, but in the day of adversity consider: surely God has appointed the one as well as the other, so that man can find out nothing that will come after him Ecc.7:13–14.

For the Christian, we have the assurance that our lives are in the hands of our loving Father, which allows us to endure suffering with hope. No one enjoys suffering, and we are not commanded to do so (that would be cruel), but unlike those for whom suffering is senseless, we can cling to God in hope, even when nothing makes sense.

The idea that we can find out nothing that will come after us suggests that we may never get the answer to why God allows specific episodes of suffering in our lives. Nor does God owe us an explanation. He knows that some things will only be clear when we can see them from His eternal perspective, as we look back on our lives from our seat in Heaven.

Linked with this question of suffering is the popular idea that good people deserve good things in life, while the bad people will “get what’s coming to them.” Some people may consider this to be their main incentive for being a “good person.” While it is generally true that people reap what they sow, Solomon points out that this is not an inviolable law: I have seen everything in my days of vanity: There is a just man who perishes in his righteousness, and there is a wicked man who prolongs life in his wickedness Ecc. 7:15.

He then says something that no one would expect in a book of the Bible: Do not be overly righteous, nor be overly wise: Why should you destroy yourself? Do not be overly wicked, nor be foolish: Why should you die before your time? Ecc.7:15–17.

I think he is speaking to that person who uses the reap-what-you-sow concept as an incentive to “be good.” Their righteousness and wisdom are self-generated and self-reliant and often linked with their hope of making it to Heaven. “If I can just be good enough and clever enough,” they think, “I will have a good life here on earth, and maybe they’ll look kindly on me when I get to the pearly gates.”

Solomon’s warning applies equally to religious and non-religious people: this kind of righteousness is self-destructive. I would argue that it is particularly so for the religious kind who are sure that these works will earn them a place in Heaven. We need to be reminded: For there is not a just man on earth who does good and does not sin Ecc.7:20. Even the most righteous person you know has sinned and therefore falls short of God’s standard.

Of course, being wicked and foolish is likely to lead to prison or a shortened lifespan, so don’t do that either. How do we escape from these horns of dilemma? It is good that you grasp this, and also not remove your hand from the other; for he who fears God will escape them all Ecc.7:18.

Translating this into our New Testament context, if we are saved by God’s grace and obey Him out of love, then a righteous life is fulfilling rather than self-destructive. The righteousness we now display is not out of relentless self-effort but flows naturally from the throne of grace.

Was Solomon Sexist?

Solomon continues this chapter with yet another assault on our modern sensitivities: And I find more bitter than death the woman whose heart is snares and nets, whose hands are fetters. He who pleases God shall escape from her, but the sinner shall be trapped by her Ecc. 7:26. And again, in case you didn’t hear him the first time: One man among a thousand I have found, but a woman among all these I have not found Ecc. 7:28.

Before we hastily conclude that Solomon was sexist (just like we earlier felt like condemning him as a nihilist), let us consider these remarks in the context of his life. Solomon’s relationships with women were his downfall, and we can learn from those mistakes as much as we can learn from his wisdom.

His marriages with foreign women were mostly due to political convenience, since if you were married to Pharaoh’s daughter, it was unlikely that Pharaoh would go to war with you. Besides Egypt, many other peace deals were signed between Israel and the other nations through marriage. This probably seemed like a good idea at the time, and it did actually work — rather than doing constant battle with every neighbor like David did, Solomon’s reign was marked by peace.

Yet this peace was earned at a terrible price: For it was so, when Solomon was old, that his wives turned his heart after other gods; and his heart was not loyal to the LORD his God, as was the heart of his father David 1 Kings 11:4.

Translating this to our present situation, these political marriages represent compromise between the church and the world for the sake of keeping the peace. When the world calls us bigots because of our stance on sexuality, for example, we could choose to compromise on that point. It will make us more likeable and less offensive. On this and a hundred other issues, we can “win their hearts” through marriages of convenience and compromise.

Yet we would be falling into the same trap as Solomon. After marrying many foreign women and compromising by allowing them to build altars in Israel to their own gods, he started to worship those gods. If we allow any kind of falsehood into the church as a concession, it won’t be long before the church forgets her Husband and falls head-over-heels for an idol. Sadly, many churches today have not heeded Solomon’s warning.

Are we good or evil?

We end this chapter with a final declaration on the sordid state of mankind: Truly, this only I have found: That God made man upright, but they have sought out many schemes Ecc.7:26–29.

In our search for meaning, we often pose a related question: Who are we? Are humans essentially evil, in need of salvation, or are we essentially good, in need of nothing? How we answer this question has implications for whether we continue on our quest for meaning. If we think we are evil, desperately requiring rescue from ourselves, we will search for meaning in earnest. Perhaps when we find it, we will find our rescuer. If we think we are good, then our search for meaning becomes a theoretical endeavor. It would be nice to know why we are here, but it doesn’t matter too much.

Solomon’s answer harks back to Genesis and explains why people living in an evil world can still imagine that humans are ‘good.’ God made us good in the beginning, and that goodness is one aspect of His image in us. But we fell into sin, and that image has been shattered into millions of pieces. The occasional glimpse of goodness in man is an echo of our past, but it is no longer an accurate reflection of the pure goodness of God. We really need that Rescuer after all, and with Him, we will find meaning.