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Ecclesiastes is a difficult book for many reasons. It’s very philosophical, and many people prefer not to think. That’s why you rarely see sermons based on this book, and whenever anyone quotes it, it’s usually the same handful of verses that everyone uses to give window-dressing to some point in a lesson. 

But the book also seems very pessimistic. Many people have that impression, but it’s negative for a reason. It’s an example of what we call “pessimistic wisdom literature.” For example, there’s one ancient text that was written before the Bible that responds to the question, “What is good?” with this answer: to have my neck and your neck broken and be thrown into the river.” That sounds like a mob hit—anyone can think of something better than “sleeping with the fishes!” These texts wrestle with the dark truths of life we all know exist but prefer to ignore.

The Hebrew text of Ecclesiastes is complicated. Sometimes, Hebrew words are very flexible, and the wording can be challenging to translate in poetic literature. Most people don’t realize that when looking at an English translation, they’re looking at the product of centuries of scholarship where experts have spent hundreds of thousands of hours wrestling with text. 

Ecclesiastes 6 references the “good life,” in which a wealthy man would be expected to have wealth, a long life, and many children. But for some reason, the man is not able to enjoy his possessions, and a stranger has them instead (literally “eats them,” v. 2). He concludes that the miscarried child is better because he or she has not wasted a life in a fruitless pursuit of stuff (v. 3). 

Possessions, wealth, pleasure, and power are all things our culture says we need to enjoy a meaningful life. In some places (e.g., elite circles), they are required for someone to be considered a meaningful person. But for some, a human being doesn’t have inherent dignity or worth; we only have it through what we can accomplish or acquire. But in the end, we all go to the same place—the realm of the dead. That helps us keep material things in proper perspective. 

Ecclesiastes explores what we call the hedonistic paradox. The more we look for pleasure, the more elusive satisfaction becomes. All of us have a longing for something greater. Deep down inside, everyone knows there must be more to this life than things or experiences. But some people get trapped into thinking that they can find meaning in something here in this world, so they live a life of perpetual dissatisfaction. What do they do? If they sleep around, they sleep with more people; if they do drugs, they do more drugs; if they are materialistic, they get more stuff; if they prize experiences, they go more places. 

They devote their lives to a god named “more”—without realizing that “more” isn’t a god. 

It’s a parasite. 

It will devour your happiness because you’ll constantly compare yourself to others. It will consume your peace of mind because you’ll always think about how to outdo, outscore, outshine, or outperform your competitors. It will destroy your satisfaction with life because it will have us running in circles on a fool’s errand for something we will never find. All of us can imagine an existence that is more comfortable than the one we presently enjoy, and “more” will constantly remind us of this fact.

Looking around at our world, “more” has hundreds of millions of slaves. We need to realize that it’s not a god worth serving.