YOU CAN GET SOME SATISFACTION

Over Sukkot, there is a tradition to read Kohelet, otherwise known as Ecclesiastes. It is a biblical work attributed to King Solomon, and as the rabbis put it, a King Solomon whose cynicism, so prevalent throughout the work, is a reflection of his advanced years and a man who has possibly seen more than one would ever care to see. In fact, some have read Kohelet and come to the conclusion that it is a depressing work. As a case in point, consider this verse from chapter three (19):

“…they [man and beast] have one and the same fate: as the one dies so does the other,and both have the same life breath; man has no superiority over beast,

since both amount to nothing”

Ouch. I wonder if the depressing valence of Kohelet is due to the absence of a strong rock beat that might mask the otherwise gloomy lyrics? For example, have you ever considered this song dark and gloomy?

I can't get no satisfaction / I can't get no satisfaction

'Cause I try and I try and I try and I try

I can't get no, I can't get no...

OK, OK…we hear you! Now it is unlikely that Kohelet was written by Mick Jagger and Keith Richards of the Rolling Stones, but the plaintive cry of an unfulfilled life is strangely contemporary. In fact, Kohelet could be, in some sense, a precursor to modern day existentialists were it not for Kohelet’s profound belief in a God who is very much in charge of the world. But absent that significant detail, I would not characterize Kohelet as depressing as much as brutally honest. The realities of life ought to put a few questions in our heads about our own self-importance or the possibility of a just world. Maybe our discomfort with Kohelet stems from the fact that it sounds so at odds with what we would expect from the Bible. Then again, Kohelet is part of the Bible. What we ought to expect of the Bible is brutal honesty and in Kohelet, we get it in spades.

Kohelet recognizes that human beings are simply animals (chapter 3), which just happens to be the conclusion of contemporary anthropologists; that the wealthiest among us leave this world naked and penniless—our apologies to the Trumpster (chapter 5); and that governmental patronage makes for unjust and corrupt judgments against the innocent (chapter 5). This may cynically be framed as pessimism, but a more sobering assessment may be that it is simply reality.

Kohelet, the man, tells it like it is, and aside from his disturbing misogynistic views (to be fair, he isn’t terribly fond of men either), he ends up advising us to follow a very pragmatic and balanced lifestyle which includes keeping our promises, tempering our Temple attendance, enjoying what we have, seeking companionship, being discreet, dismissing much of the gossip around town, and most importantly, following God’s mitzvot and, as Kohelet put it, to “cast your bread upon the waters for after many days you will find it” (Ecc. 11:1). I was always bothered by that phrase because as a metaphor, it’s impossible. After you’ve cast your bread upon the water, you never find it—a bird eats it, a fish swallows it, or the waters dissolve it. Cast your bread upon the waters and it’s gone, period. But not according to Kohelet. Be generous, be giving, loosen your grasp on your material wellbeing, share with others and in time, your generosity will be requited in some way. And in this world of longing and desire, in this world of existential meaninglessness, that may just be the way to get some satisfaction.