HERMAN MELVILLE, in Moby Dick, said that “the truest of all books is Solomon’s and Ecclesiastes is the fine hammered steel of woe.” The Song of Songs has garnered similar “critical” acclaim. Iain Provan, the author of this fine commentary, agrees, although he doesn’t sugarcoat the exegetical task: “Ecclesiastes is a difficult book.”
Why is Ecclesiastes so difficult? The language is difficult, the book is filled with word plays, the argument is complex, it doesn’t mention other major biblical figures like Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and it doesn’t refer to any of God’s dealings with Israel. Its themes, other commentators have said, border on contradictions, heresies, and licentiousness. It is a difficult book because when compared with the rest of the Old Testament books, it is different.
So too with the Song of Songs. An erotic love song, even if its ultimate meaning is an extended metaphor of God’s love for Israel and/or the church and vice versa, does not lend itself easily to division into pericopes and word studies. On a human level, it seems almost too explicit for our sensitivities.
So what can we learn from these unusual pieces of writing? According to Iain Provan, these two book are in fact not filled with contradictions, heresies, and licentiousness. Rather, as he so ably points out, they reveal truth in ways different from historical and prophetic literature.
Consider the authorship of Ecclesiastes. In truth, we do not know who the author is. The book effectively veils the writer’s identity so that we are forced to focus on the content. This pattern was typical of ancient Near Eastern literature, where it was commonplace to write anonymously. Conversely, in the Greek pattern, the author usually proudly proclaimed his or her identity—a pattern still evident today. We therefore have difficulty digesting or paying attention to an idea unless it is personified in a personality. Perhaps one lesson we need to learn is that ideas don’t always need personality.
Consider another example: The text of Ecclesiastes is filled with what appear to be contradictions. In one place pleasure is condemned (“What does pleasure accomplish?” 2:2) and in another place endorsed (“I commend the enjoyment of life,” 8:15). Two theories have regularly been put forth to try to explain these contradictions. According to the quotation theory, the author of Ecclesiastes quotes people he does not agree with in order to highlight his own view. The addition theory, by contrast, maintains that a later editor added material in order to “correct” the author’s view. But an even better explanation is that by the juxtapositioning of these simple though contrasting statements, the author reveals a deeper truth on the subject—revelation through comparison and paradox.
Or consider a third example: The tone of Ecclesiastes is often seen as gloomy. Perhaps the most well-known and oft-quoted verse in the whole text is 1:2 (“Everything is meaningless”), although 12:7 (“The dust will return to the ground it came from”) will win no happy-face awards. Note what Professor Provan says: “The emphasis [in 1:2] lies on the passing nature of existence and on its elusiveness and resistance to human and physical control.” It is true that death is a frequent topic in Ecclesiastes. Yet one does not come away from reading this book seeing death as victor. On the contrary,. it is obvious that life is the theme—more specifically, the life we have in God. Such life, Qohelet seems to say, can only be fully enjoyed in the context of human death and futility.
Finally, a fourth example: What better way to gain an appreciation for the inexhaustible love of God than by comparing it to human love? By telling a love story with explicit imagery of love, the author of the Song of Songs points us beyond human love to God’s love. This can be dangerous because human love, like everything else human, is tainted by the Fall, and as such is open to abuse. Yet one cannot come away from reading the Song of Songs without a deepened appreciation for God’s passionate providence for us.
We live in a paradoxical age. It is a time of unparalleled discovery and knowledge. Science has made it possible for us to approach the distant stars and the microscopic atom. We know more than our ancestors could have ever dreamed. Yet somehow we don’t seem to understand the many facts of our existence with any more alacrity than our ancestors understood the far fewer number of facts they had at their fingertips. Nevertheless, when all is said and done, these two books encourage us to fall at the feet of God and find out meaning in life through him.