Now we are working through Ecclesiastes. I have found Jeffrey Meyer's commentary very helpful for our study. I think he has captured the essence of what the "Preacher" is saying: We are to live a thankful life and trust in God, who is the only One that can "shepherd the wind." Repeatedly, I've been astounded at the way God has blessed our study of the Word. Today was another blessing upon blessing.
This morning's text was Eccl. 7:1-4.
The Preacher sets forth a list of comparisons: good name > precious ointment, day of death > day of birth, house of mourning > house of feasting; sorrow > laughter. The latter three comparisons are to be seen in relation to the first. A good name and a precious ointment are both valuable to possess. The question here is not "do I have to choose one or the other?" Rather, if both can be had, then by all means, take both. However, recognize the superior value of the good name.
But how is the day of death better than the day of birth? It is not a question as to possession or even preference. It is a question of real value for a man. And I don't believe it's talking about your death or mine. Instead, it's talking about the day of death. And this is made plain by what follows. The day of death, the house of mourning, and sorrow are all part of the same event. Someone died. Our experience of a person's death is valuable to us. It betters our hearts (Eccl. 7:3b). Of course, the joy that I have upon the birth of someone I love betters my heart, too. But it doesn't increase my wisdom and understanding of my life upon this earth like death of someone I love.
We're not talking about pleasure here. Someone's death gives us no pleasure, while someone's birth gives us much pleasure. However, our experience of one is more valuable than our experience of the other. Death is an amazing commentary upon the state of things. It is shocking. Our revulsion of it, our anger and sadness that we feel at its "injustice" let us know that something is dreadfully wrong with the world. It is God's mighty commentary upon my life. I, too, will die. And the knowledge my mortality sobers me so that I can identify the problem. The locality of that problem is, of course, man's rebellion and sin, not God's malice or caprice. I can only discover this in the house of mourning. The house of feasting doesn't include this knowledge. Both are good houses to visit. But one is "better" than the other. One betters my heart in a way the other cannot.
This exegesis led us to a discussion about whether children should be brought to funerals. Our conclusion was unanimously in favor of it. True, there is some knowledge that is too heavy for a child to bear. But this is mostly sexual knowledge, perhaps even the knowledge of war. But the knowledge of death is something even a child must face. A child must mature before he can experience his sexuality, but even a child can die. And though bedroom doors may be closed, those whom children love are taken from them by death. Can we guard our children from this experience? Should we? Why? The only suggested answer is that it may be difficult knowledge for a child to bear. But how then can a child otherwise understand the cross of Christ? No, the knowledge of death is not too heavy for a child. Children, too, have the capacity to grieve (and amazing resilience). Rather, the house of death is an opportunity to instruct this child about his own mortality, about Jesus' death, about our hope in Jesus' resurrection and our own. To "shield" a child from the house of mourning for his happiness' sake is to keep that child a child. His heart may be "happier" for a while. But he will not be better. And God prefers our betterment to our happiness. For our deepest joy can only be had when we know the whole story. The resurrection can only be known when we learn death.
1 comments: