View from Above, Click to enlarge.

There’s a picture painted in Ecclesiastes that we never hear preached, but it might be a good day for it now.

In a small and vulnerable city lived a man who, though wise, was poor and unnoticed. A powerful king came against the city and built a siegeworks to starve them out. They were as good as dead. Then the previously unknown man offered something that (though it’s not told how) changed everything.*

That’s my summary. The  original writer wraps it up with: “Wisdom is better than strength.”

He also makes another point: “After it was all done, the poor man was forgotten and his wisdom was no longer heeded.

It’s one of the ironies of life.

Irony: When things go in an opposite way than expected. Life has so much of it, I sometimes wonder if it’s more the rule than the exception. (If that were possible.)

How often it is that no credit is given to the one it is due.

Or sometimes it’s worse: Rather than credit there’s blame. You’ve heard it said: “No good deed will go unpunished.” It’s another irony, and we’ve seen it happen.

It happened at the central moment of history!

Too often the wise are despised. It’s the popular who are popular. Wisdom is handy in a pinch. But until then, and after then, “Let’s party.”

Sounds sort of depressing if it wasn’t so familiar.

It’s right there in Ecclesiastes: We tend to forget the One to whom we owe our lives . . . the One that, though poor, was wise, and provided a solution to save us.

Let’s remember.

Happy Easter.

_________________________
*Ecc. 9:13-18

Feel free to share with others.

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I got an e-mail out of the blue asking if I was related to one Hyatt Moore who had been married late in life to the inquirer’s great-grandmother. She said she’d been doing some family research and happened upon the connection. A quick Internet search and she found me.

As the number of people on the earth with that name is limited (five that I know of—and all in a line) her research was quickly rewarded. It began an interesting exchange of sparse information and a few old photographs. It had been a second marriage for both of them, and hardly remembered two generations later.

If the inquirer had waited another generation, she would have received no information at all.

There is no remembrance of men of old, and even those who are yet to come will not be remembered by those who follow.*

That’s how it is.

The memory of me and the memory of you will last about two generations and that’s it. Even then, it’ll be only a name and a few facts, and those the mundane ones.

All the good stuff, about what an interesting person I was, what I thought about, the challenges I overcame, my glorious resume of jobs, the influence, the friends, the books, the travels, my unique tastes, the symbols of various successes and interests and everything else will all be just the stuff of dust. And the same with you.

My grandfather was a railroad conductor, had seven children, and struggled to make it for a time as a homesteader in the wilds of Wyoming. That’s about all I know.

About his father, I know nothing.

Some people can go back farther, and some people make a study of it. But it’s pretty normal that before long, it’s gone.

. . .

Remember Yertle the Turtle by Dr. Seuss? Yertle wanted to be king of all he saw so he gathered all the turtles he could—first nine, then 5607—and got them all stacked up under him so he could see (and be king of) more. Finally, Mack, the turtle at the bottom broke (actually burped) and all came tumbling down. There is a point, maybe numerous, but mine is that in all those turtles only two are named, Yertle and Mack.

There’s me, Yertle—the central figure in my own story—and there’s Mack, some ancestor way back there generations ago. All the rest are nameless, and only sort of important for bringing me to my place at center stage.

Sounds a bit ego-centric, but don’t worry—that’ll go too. Soon enough each of us will be one of the nameless turtles teetering in the middle of somebody else’s stack.

No wonder our Ecclesiastes writing turtle ancestor wrapped it up with, “Meaningless, meaningless.”

Except at the end, he said: “Fear God . . . for He will bring every deed into judgment, large or small . . . **

It’s a comforting thought that at least we’ll be remembered by “Somebody.”

I’m trusting, by grace, He’ll overlook a lot.

_______________________

*Ecc. 1:11
**Ecc. 12:13,14

Next: e-gallery–New paintings and prints. Coming Tuesday.

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The Scream, by Edvard Munch, reminding us to not panic but accept the things we cannot change.

Whether a tree falls to the south or to the north, in the place where it falls, there it will lie.

Things happen. Why they happen one way and not the other is beyond anyone’s control. Sometimes they’re inconvenient, sometimes disastrous. Either way, they just are.

How much in life do we really control?

Our attitude, maybe, and that’s hard enough.

It may be the thing you’re chaffing at right now is in the category of things that can’t be changed.

We can only change our mind.

Things beyond our control include:
The weather
Taxes
Other people
That building blocking our view
The reality that “right or wrong, he’s still the boss”
That life contains pain
Taxes
Our past
Aging
The speed limit
Taxes
Death

These are just a sample of the things that are what they are. To recognize what we can’t change is a step toward acceptance. And acceptance is grace.

We should all want to grow in grace.

We should also note the kind of things that just are but we’re well used to, like the race we were born into, and the times, our country of origin, our gender. We had no choice in a great many things; we just accept them and go on from there.

“Who can straighten what is crooked?” 

“What is twisted cannot be straightened.” 

Accept it.

But don’t sit idle. Identifying what can’t be changed may just be context for action.

Another from the Ecclesiastes sage:

“Whoever watches the wind will not plant; whoever looks at the clouds will not reap.”

Things are what they are, but still there’s response to be made, work to be done, life to be lived.

We recognize the things we can’t change, accept them, and we go from there.

It’s just another thing that is.

_______________________

Ecclesiastes 11:3, 7:13, 1:15, 11:4

Next time: Face it–We Won’t be Remembered. Coming Saturday.

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All Day in the Sun, 11×7, oil, painted 1998 in British Columbia, Canada 

Get to work; it’s a gift of God.

What? Yes! Our Ecclesiastes author says so repeatedly, at least six times, each as wrap up of other ponderings. “I don’t understand this and I don’t understand that,” he says, “but one thing I know: To enjoy my work is a gift of God.” That’s my paraphrase. It’s also become my own conclusion.

Think about it. Each of us has a talent, likely a number of talents. To put them to use gives us pleasure, focus, purpose. Without them, we’d be lumps of nothing. With, we’re engines of energy just looking for how to put them to use. That’s our work.

It was a gift from the beginning. Adam was a landscape gardener. And that was before the curse!* He may have been in paradise, but God knew he was going to need something to do. The maintenance and rearrangement of the created resources, that’s been our part ever since.

A person who has found where and how to make his particular contribution according to his own talent will never “work” another day. If you haven’t found it yet, keep looking. Or rethink your current situation.

Work is only onerous when it’s against the grain.

Okay, it’s always a little against the grain. Very little is “easy.” There’s always at least a bit of resistance, sometimes a lot. But facing up to the challenge, overcoming the inertia, and expressing our own uniqueness in the process, that’s what we do. That’s our work, and one of our great reasons for being.

“TGIM,” that’s what Ecclesiastes says. “Thank God it’s Monday!”

Here are some direct quotes:

Six Direct Quotes

My heart took delight in all my work. 2:10

A man can do nothing better than to eat and drink and find satisfaction in his work. 2:24

There is nothing better for a man than to be happy and do good while he lives . . . and find satisfaction in all his toil. 3:12,13

It is good and proper for a man to eat and drink, and to find satisfaction in his toilsome labor. 5:18

Nothing is better for a man . . . than to eat and drink and be glad . . . then joy will accompany him in his work. 8:15

Whatever you hand finds to do, do it with all your might. 9:10

For Good Reason

That’s a lot of restating of the same theme. There must be good reason.

Rest is fine, diversions and entertainments have their time; but they’ll never give meaning.

Even a job that’s not particularly wonderful at least provides a rhythm to the life, a self-experssion in some way, a context for a bit of creativity, for relationship, and a part to play in some larger cause.

It’s a gift. Each of us has something, first to hone, then to contribute. The opportunities are everywhere. The garden still needs tending.

So get your gloves, get your shears, and get going.

It’ll make you who you are.

_______________________

* Gen. 2:15

Next time: Things are What they Are. Coming Wednesday.

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Antigua Street (detail), an experimental painting after the style of experimenter Paul Gauguin. (For full and larger view, click and click again.) 

I wanted to see what was worthwhile for men to do under heaven during the few days of their lives.*

Now there is a responsible approach to life. Consider it as one grand experiment.

Not everybody can, or will, but if we have a modicum of wherewithal, live in a free culture, trust that we have some years still ahead, and any curiosity about how it would be if . . . . Then we can experiment. And should.

We only live once. Much of it is proscribed. But there’s a great deal that’s just up to us. It seems only right that we take at least a few calculated risks that might eventuate into something that would never otherwise happen, or be learned. And maybe daily.

I read a book once on the creative process suggesting we can create, and even name, an “alter ego” for ourselves. That “other person” then has the permission and expectation to try things our own person might never consider. Sounds wild. I toyed with it. I kept my last name but took on the new first name of “Risk.”

“Risk Moore.” It became a reminder that taking risks is part of what I’m supposed to be doing, at least sometimes.

Risk, in some areas, is another word for faith.

The painter Paul Gauguin took a lot of risks. Actually many were irresponsible and in the end he died singularly unsuccessful and miserable. But artistically he experimented in ways that opened a whole new way of making art. If he hadn’t done it, we wouldn’t have it. He himself didn’t know what was in him until he began to experiment.

I’ve let some of what he learned–about strong color and simplified shapes, not to mention the intrigue of peoples in another culture–influence me. I just made a painting along those lines. It’s here, from a photo I took on the streets of Antigua, Guatemala some years back. It was fun to do, and further stretched my horizons.

So, I say, experiment. Go beyond current experience.

Keep your moral boundaries intact, of course, lest the results of your experiments suck you under.

But under God there’s a wide world yet to be explored, a universe actually, starting within our own minds.

It requires a bit of courage, a bit of faith, a bit of imagination. Who knows what will come of it?

Except that much more life.

_______________________

*Ecc. 2:3b

For more on this, see “Try Things–You Never Know” (listed at right).

Feel free to share with a friend.

Next time: Here’s a Gift: Work. Coming Sunday.

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Why do I love Ecclesiastes so much? A lot of reasons. There’s great wisdom in it. It aligns with how I see life. It aligns with my own life.

The writer is one blessed with more human gifts, brains, money and glory than anyone could imagine. Yet, in the end, he’s just a man needing God.

Rich or poor, it’s the same for all of us. It’s pretty normal to feel that true happiness is waiting for us with the next thing. If we could just have ___________ (fill in blank) then we’d be content. Then we get it, and we’re not. So we try again. And again and again and again.

In Ecclesiastes, the writer got to the top of all this and, with nothing else to get, he looked around and saw it was all meaningless.

What was left but CQE&D? (That’s cynicism, questioning everything and despair.)

He’s not the only one that’s come to this. Like I said, it’s my story.

It was in early adulthood I began to set my goals. I was married and figured it was time to get serious. I had five goals–a certain car, a certain boat, a certain house, a certain job, and a certain wife. (Okay, I already had the wife.)

To me, most of these were far off and distant, but the pursuit would give me focus for a long time. To my surprise, within a year I had them all.

And I’d learned a principle: What you aim for you arrive at.

It’s a nice thing to know when you’re a young man starting out. Or anytime.

I also learned another principle: Arriving isn’t enough.

I was empty.

I appeared happy. I appeared successful. But I knew different. Worse, I was afraid nothing I could do was going to change it.

I could set new goals. But I knew in time I’d only arrive at them; and then where would I be but where I already was?

That’s when the CQE&D set in.

Cynicism, questioning everything and despair.

“Meaningless, meaningless, says the [Ecclesiastes] Preacher”* Not that I was listening to any preacher. Such voice I’d long fled—and covered my tracks.

Now I was alone with my success and, like I said, empty.

To give the rest of the story would mean another book. Suffice to say, in time, God entered the picture and showed me what was missing. Namely: Him.

What’s happened since then is a third book. (Yet Moore on That.)

But this was to be a meditation on the honest perspectives in Ecclesiastes, and how they align with our lives—at least mine.

I can say with the Joni Mitchel song, “I’ve looked at life from both sides now.”

Happily, I’m on the brighter side.

And everything is meaningful.

Let me know if this resonates with you.

_______________________

*Ecc.1:2

Next time: Life, the Great Experiment. Coming Thursday

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Additional titles could include: Fun with Ecclesiastes; Outside What Box?; Some Answers–More Questions; A Time for Most Things; Full of Meaninglessness; and A Guide for Non-Conformists (Group Study).

I said I might be working on a book. But what to title it? The mind fairly races with options. Here are a few:

Life’s Little (Unlikely) Instruction Book (already suggested)

Meaningless, Meaningless (already used)

Vanity, Vanity (variation on “already used”)

Life’s Little Inscrutable Instruction Book
(more telling of the contents)

Life’s BIG Inscrutable Instruction Book
(large print edition for seniors)

Ecclesiastes–The Good Parts Version (for incurable optimists)

Ecclesiastes Lite (Cliff Notes Version)

Life for Dummies (these always sell)

Life for Geninuses, Genusiness, Smart People

Will This be on the Test? (college student edition)

Life–In Which the Author takes on Various Conundrums and Ironies and Makes Observations and Declarations Starting with it (Life) Being Only Futile with Everything Having been Done Before, and Sometimes with the Bad Guys “Winning”–but Ending with the Proposition that There is a Judgement Indeed and that Things are Not so Meaningless After All and the Youth Should Take Warning  (Maybe too long)

I Declare (shorter, simpler)

Well, I Declare (more colloquial)

Well, Well (more accepting)

Well, Well, Well (too deep)

Life: How To (“How To” books are always in vogue)

Life: How Not To (could be a sequel)

That’s the list to date. Let me know your favorite, including None of the Above.

(Hey, there’s another one.)

Feel free to add your own.

____________________________

Next: Ecclesiastes: My Story, Maybe Yours, Coming Monday.

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Love Flags, bright spots in an otherwise incomprehensible space. Click and click again for larger view.

“All is meaningless?” Somebody should have told this guy this is no way to start a book, particularly not one that’s supposed to be helpful.

But he couldn’t be stopped; he was writing from experience.

He was looking at life from the other side of hope. NOT HOPES DASHED, BUT HOPES FULFILLED!

He was one of those rare among us who was able to achieve everything he could imagine. Most who do that end up disappointed. And he did too, until he saw greater light.

Here’s the account in his words:

All

I had everything
so I could do anything
so here’s what I did:

Kicks

First, I went after pleasure
and found it . . .
pleasureless.

Laughs

Not enough laughter, I thought,
knowing it’s good for the bones,
but found it pretty shallow as a reason to live.

Wine

I became a wine connoisseur,
loving its pleasure, its nuance, complexity (and conversation);
but in the end every bottle is only empty.

Giving

I became an altruist,
used my resources for the public good,
providing beautiful spaces,
landscapes of lakes, whole arboretums,
bearing fruit for the mouth and for the eyes.

Staff

To do it I amassed a great workforce,
had my own mega-farm to feed them all.
No spread had more acres, more livestock.

Money

My investments kept producing.
I didn’t have Swiss bank accounts, I had Switzerland.
Nothing I could do could prevent the money pouring in.

Women

And women, I won’t even mention,
Except there were plenty,
always.

King

Suffice to say, I had more of everything than anybody;
there was nothing I needed to refuse myself . . .
so I didn’t.

But

I enjoyed it all . . .
for the most part.
Until I finished.
Then I didn’t.

Zero

Because there was nothing else to do,
except write up my will.
And who knows what whoever would get all this would do with it?
He could be a fool and lose it all . . .
and likely so, as he wouldn’t have worked for it.

Joy

Then I realized it was the work itself that brought the pleasure,
that with a little food and drink,
and a certain sense of God.

?

Other than that, death wins,
and what was it all for?*

There it is. An opening overview. Whatever we pursue, whether or not we attain, in the end, death wins.

Some have suggested that the oft-repeated phrase “under the sun” explains the whole thing, that Ecclesiastes is how life looks without the light of God shining through. Simplistic? Maybe.

Here’s a take from 20th-century novelist, Thomas Wolfe:

“Of all I have ever seen or learned, that book seems to me the noblest, the wisest, and the most powerful expression of man’s life upon this earth — and also the highest flower of poetry, eloquence, and truth. I am not given to dogmatic judgments in the matter of literary creation, but if I had to make one I could say that Ecclesiastes is the greatest single piece of writing I have ever known, and the wisdom expressed in it the most lasting and profound.”

It’s a book worth pondering, and applying its wisdom.

Next time, however, we’ll take a break for some humor. We don’t want to get too heavy. Hold your paddle light.

____________________________

*Ecclesiastes 2
Next: More Title Options. Coming Friday.

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Joe Btfsplk of cartoonist Al Cap fame is not Qoheleth of Ecclesiastes, but I couldn’t resist the connection, and both their names are beyond pronouncing.

Maybe you’ve figured out by now, if you’ve been reading these, that Ecclesiastes is my favorite book. At least it’s up there with my top 66. The fact that it starts out with everything being meaningless doesn’t bother me much, particularly when in the end it says the opposite.

The word “meaningless” is really better translated “vapor.” And vapor turns back into rain, which waters the earth. I know I’m wonderfully watered by the words in this book.

The book of Ecclesiastes seems esoteric at times, even inscrutable, and positively negative! But it faces life as it is, not how it should be. I can trust a God that includes in His book the admission that things don’t always go as we think they should, that a lot of life is hard to fathom.

I see in Ecclesiastes a thought process many of us have traveled, questioning the ultimate meaning of everything and ending up, shudder, empty.

There was a time when I concluded that a pessimist is just a realist who is honest.

Ecclesiastes was written from the perspective of a person who has tried everything, attained everything, and then reflected on it. By the way, he never claims to be King Solomon, and the writing style is that of a later usage than Solomon’s era. The writer, Qoheleth,* has taken on a Solomonic perspective and writing as if . . .

Since none of us will experience as much as Solomon did, the writer gives us the benefit of the conclusion he would have reached.

And that is:

When all is said and done, all is meaningless–unless and until greater light is found. Of course, that is God Himself. After that one may still see the anomalies, but there’s plenty of reason to be happy . . . in the simple things.

I find a highly positive thread weaving through it all . . . something I’ve already alluded to in a handful of these blog posts. (See below.)

Another Book?

I’ve actually thought of putting together a little book using Ecclesiastes as the point of departure. Not that it hasn’t been done before, but then everything’s been done before–that’s one of Ecclesiastes’ truths.** It’s just never been done by me. And my perspective will be different.

Just like yours.

“Of the making of books there is no end.”*** There’s another from Ecclesiastes. It just gives me all the more permission.

So, with your permission, I’ll embark. And I’ll invite you along. You’ll be valuable help just by reading, possibly commenting, looking for its completion and sharing it with any others.

I do not intend to go chronologically. I’ll jump around, and not cover everything. Nor will every post be on the theme. It’s a Blank Slate. I will want to retain my moments of spontaneity and humor, and so will you, I think. It’ll be up to you to know when it’s which.

So here we go. Come along, and grab a paddle; we’ll be pulling up stream. And, like I said, invite others. There’s plenty of room in the boat.

And if it tips over, so be it. It’s just water (vapor).

Past Posts on the Theme

Posts already based on Ecclesiastes segments include:
So, Go, Says God, Ecc. 9:7-10
Try Things, You Never Know, Ecc. 11:6
On Seeing the Future, Not, Ecc. 10:14
Don’t Leave Your Post, Ecc. 10:4
Light is Sweet, Ecc. 11:7
Slow, Beauty Ahead, and Strong in its Kind, both taken from Ecc. 3:11
A Time for Everything, Ecc. 3:1-8

____________________________

*The original Hebrew name of the book is Qoheleth, coming closest to “preacher,” the self-description of the author. Translated to Greek it became Ecclesiastes.
**Ecclesiastes 1:9
***Ecclesiastes 12:12
Next: All is Meaningless–What a Way to Start a Book! Coming Tuesday.

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A time to dance, a time to adjust our shoe. (Click, and again, for larger view.)

One of the most known passages in Ecclesiastes is the time poem . . . a time for this and a time for that.* Then the Byrds came along and made it more so, setting it all to arresting harmonies. The truths seems pretty basic really. Then again, there is a certain permission given, not to mention an understanding about how life works. Whatever the situation is now, there will be another later, and likely opposite. Ours is to not only accept it, but rise to the moment with appropriate response.

The list is complete enough to symbolize just about everything else we could think of. There’s a time to be born, a time to die, a time to plant, a time to uproot, a time to mourn and a time to dance. So it goes for seven plus seven couplets. It’s double complete. But I could add some of my own, like:

There’s a time to sleep, a time to wake.
There’s a time to give, and a time to receive.
A time to kiss, a time to not.
A time to be light hearted, a time to get serious.
A time to give advice, a time to just listen.
A time to work, a time to rest.
A time for risk, a time to refrain from risking.
A time to be sensual, a time to be coy.
A time to speak up, a time to shut up.
A time to light the fire, a time to let it die.
A time to say Yes, a time to say No . . . and another time to say Maybe, or Later, or I don’t know.

But why is this news? Maybe because we can easily get out of balance and think we should be one way all the time . . . like, always pious and lose the joy.

There’s a time to laugh, but we don’t always laugh.
There’s a time to cry, but not always to cry.
There’s a time for ideas, and a time to put them to work.
There’s a time to win, but we don’t always win.
There’s a time to follow, but sometimes we’re to lead.

The person who feels s/he always has to act in a certain way is acting against nature. Playwrights cast their actors that way so we can follow the play; but it’s not how God casts us.

Life is more full, more complex, with sometimes calms and sometimes storms.

Sometimes we fight; sometimes we refrain from fighting.
Sometimes we hoist sails, sometimes we take them down.

There’s a time for everything; but it’s up to us to know what time it is.

There’s a time to forgive, a time to ask forgiveness.
A time to initiate, a time to be passive.
A time to fish, a time to cut bait.

There’s a time to pray, a time to act.
A time to spend, a time to save.
A time to train a child, a time to watch him go.
A time to mow, a time to let the grass grow.

There’s a time for everything. And everything comes just in time.

Time. We don’t understand it much, but we live in it. We act like we own it. Rather, it’s given as loan to us.

“It’s my time,” we like to say, “and what I do with my time is my business.” Sounds impressive . . . but whose business is it when your time comes?

There’s a time for every deed.
Once again I say, Godspeed.

____________________________

*Ecclesiastes 3:1-8
Next: Life’s Little (Unlikely) Instruction Book. Coming Saturday.

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