I, the Teacher

 

I, The Teacher

 

Ecclesiastes 1:2, 12-14; 2:18-23

Search out wisdom 

 

1:2 Vanity of vanities, says the Teacher, vanity of vanities! All is vanity.

 

1:12 I, the Teacher, was king over Israel in Jerusalem.

 

1:13 I applied my mind to seek and to search out by wisdom all that is done under heaven; it is an unhappy business that God has given to humans to be busy with.

 

1:14 I saw all the deeds that are done under the sun, and see, all is vanity and a chasing after wind.

 

2:18 I hated all my toil in which I had toiled under the sun, seeing that I must leave it to my successor,

 

2:19 and who knows whether he will be wise or foolish? Yet he will be master of all for which I toiled and used my wisdom under the sun. This also is vanity.

 

2:20 So I turned and gave my heart up to despair concerning all the toil of my labors under the sun,

 

2:21 because sometimes one who has toiled with wisdom and knowledge and skill must leave all to be enjoyed by another who did not toil for it. This also is vanity and a great evil.

 

2:22 What do mortals get from all the toil and strain with which they toil under the sun?

 

2:23 For all their days are full of pain, and their work is a vexation; even at night their minds do not rest. This also is vanity.

 

Teachers have always been my heroes in life. I owe so much to my teachers, from the earliest Sunday School volunteer instructors through my seminary and post-graduate professors. To this day (and mind you, I am about to turn 71!), I can remember the wonder my favorite elementary school teachers displayed as they taught us geography, history, science, and language arts, not to mention READING, in the earliest grades! Their own fascination with learning, and the joy with which they taught, fueled what I assume was some kind of innate curiosity in me, something I have always figured came from my father, who was himself a curious and well-read individual. Miss Korb introduced me to Tom Sawyer and instilled a love of classic literature. Mr. Pelesari made mathematics palatable for me, which was a major stretch, given my penchant for the conceptual and aversion to anything that actually had to “add up.” The principal of our elementary school picked up on my love of science and “fed” it by ordering some special equipment for our classroom, and when I got involved in shortwave radio (I built a Heathkit receiver when I was 10), he got permission from my folks to take me to the home of one of his friends, who was a serious Ham radio operator. Miss Reid taught me how to write a lick, and tried to warm me about the difference between creative and academic writing, something I never really learned, as I spiced my term papers with humorous anecdotes, and my news stories with fictional references (and some might say, my sermons with malarky). Mr. Montgomery and Mr. Allen had such a passion for Pennsylvania and U.S. history and government that I couldn’t help but catch it, too, which is probably why I am so enraged by a U.S. President who clearly doesn’t have a clue about any of it.

 

I could go on AND on, detailing the teachers and professors who made a major impact on my life; you’d be shocked at the specific details I still recall of just how and even when they made key learning “connections” for me. And I can hardly talk about my two sojourns at Pittsburgh Theological Seminary without shedding a few tears over the monumental influence those teachers had on my understanding of faith, biblical studies, and social justice. The late Scottish pastor and leader, Rev. George MacLeod, wrote of places on earth where the “veil” between heaven and earth was so “thin” that one could almost “feel” the presence of the Divine. (As the founder of the Iona Community, he believed Iona to be such a “thin” place.) For me, Pittsburgh Theological Seminary was truly a “thin” place, and those professors were beloved guides on my journey of exploration. 

 

I will forever be indebted to one of my college professors—Dr. Franklin Takei—who taught philosophy with an almost giddy glee, and who helped guide me to the perfect graduate school, based on how he saw my mind work. (And yes, he WAS related to Star Trek’s “Sulu”!) Oh, and no father could have ever been more proud than I was when both of my children were chosen by the landmark program, “Teach for America,” and were sent to struggling school districts for two years to inspire troubled students. Nothing like having your KIDS as your heroes, huh?

 

Now, here in this wonderful passage from Koheleth—“the teacher.” I’m tempted to think of the author of Koheleth as a preacher, for he/she speaks for God, but honestly, ANY good teacher does, too, whether they know it or not. All great teachers could echo this author’s central pursuit: “I applied my mind to seek and to search out by wisdom all that is done under heaven…” This is the curiosity I spoke of, earlier! Friends, are YOU curious about life, the universe, and everything? Are YOU developing a passion for fascinating facts and discoveries, and if so, what are you doing about it? I know I’m prejudiced about this “life-long learning” thing, but I find it hard to believe ANY person can say they believe in God without applying one’s mind to seek and search out by wisdom all that is done under heaven! After all, God didn’t create out of some parental duty or because of some celestially-mandated need. God CREATED because God first LOVED, and then out of a curiosity of what relationships with the created might look like. If you don’t believe that, you need to go back and read your Bible again!

 

I believe that the frustration Koheleth is dealing with in this passage is over rote acceptance of life as a drudgery. How many of us might echo the author’s thoughts here, especially if your own life consists of eating, sleeping, and working to pay the bills, so you can move on to the next day of eating, sleeping, and paying the bills. The teacher here may be trying to jar us into understanding that God wants WAY more for us than this! It would be Jesus himself, who would later say, “I came that you might have LIFE, and it ABUNDANTLY!” Any good preacher or teacher will tell you that “abundant” life is not at all about monetary or temporal wealth, but about the richness of relationships and the love we culture, as well as the serendipity and passion of curiosity-driven learning. Short of these things, life is nothing but vanity—how do I LOOK, how do I FEEL, or what do I WANT? Life is a vast, empty canvas and our Creator offers us a broad palette of colorful paints and textures to go crazy upon it. When our children were little, Dara and I learned to never view something one of them created and ask, “What is it?” Instead, we would say, “Tell me about this…” A spirited conversation always followed this latter inquiry, rather than the “explanation” that would have occurred as a response to the former. If you want to have a good conversation with your pastor, friends, ask them to “tell me more” about their sermon, rather than just grading it, or disagreeing with what she/he said. Want to know what the stupidest thing I ever heard a professing “Christian” say? Here it is: “I’m just not getting fed at that church.” Really? What kind of appetite are you bringing? Are you looking for just dessert, and your pastor is trying to spread the board with decent nourishment for your soul? Vanity, vanity, all is vanity.

 

As I look back on my life, I am increasingly realizing how much I learned from those with whom I stringently disagreed. I may not have realized it at the time, but maturity and experience have a way of polishing the lenses, don’t they? I remember balking at many of the sermons by one of my home church’s more “liberal” preachers during my youthful, “evangelical” period. Thankfully, though, my curiosity-tuned brain filed away a number of those sermons in my noggin, and now, as I “re-listen” to them, I can “search them out by wisdom,” discovering the pearls. This reexamination has also illustrated just how blessed we all were by the heritage of pastors who sojourned at Grace UMC, Oil City, even a few we might have found periodically incomprehensible. 

 

Some of the futility Koheleth voices in this passage may be from an attempt by some to remain “self-taught.” Other than the “I’m not being fed” idiocy I mentioned earlier, the very concept of being “self-taught” may be in second place on my “stupid-O-meter.” No one is self-taught, about anything. We may learn from the experience of others, learn by reading or viewing videos of what others may teach us, or even by some personal measure of “trial and error,” but in any case, we don’t learn without at least comparing our results with those who have gone before us. Americans have that “rugged individualism” in our DNA from our historical frontier experience, but the notion that any of us is a true “rugged individual” without the experience of the wider community is fallacious. Show me someone who claims to be totally “self-taught” and I will show you “the fool” mentioned countless times in holy scripture.

 

Obviously, we have a wide variety of teachers in our lives, including God, via the scriptures, and certainly through the teachings of God’s Son, Jesus Christ. And was not the Holy Spirit sent to “teach us many things”? Most of us have generously benefitted by those with teaching gifts, in the schools and in the church. Ultimately, though, the effectiveness of the teaching we receive is best measured by how good of a student we make of ourselves. If we hold to an egotistical “self-taught” boast, or have only critical evaluations of those who tried to teach us the invaluable lessons of life and faith, then the resulting ignorance and error is on us. We have succumbed to the “vanity” Koheleth flags in this passage of scripture. Don’t be a victim of what this rejection of good learning leaves you with: “For all their days are full of pain, and their work is a vexation; even at night their minds do not rest.” May God help you sort out yourimportant lessons and be thankful for the bevvy of good teachers who have crossed your path! Amen!