This post was originally published on October 6, 2017. I’m reposting it again in honor of my friends at Mantua Creek Church and the study we’ve begun on the book of Ecclesiastes.
There’s nothing new on this earth. Year after year it’s the same old thing…. Much learning earns you much trouble. The more you know the more you hurt. (Ecclesiastes 1:10,18 – The Message)
I love to learn new things and I hate anti-intellectualism—especially in the church. What’s more, I believe passionately that God wants us to love him with our whole being, including our minds (Matt.22:37). So, what’s the passage above getting at?
We’ve all heard the phrase “there’s nothing new under the sun,” the more familiar translation of the first part of the text above. Two thoughts are essential in beginning to understand this saying and its context:
- When the author of Ecclesiastes, “the Preacher,” uses the term “under the sun” he is referring to the earthbound life of perplexed humanity. And perplexed is an apt description. Anyone who has ever pursued learning knows the more we know, the more we see what we don’t know. More answers bring more questions.
- As David Gibson, minister of Trinity Church in Aberdeen, Scotland, points out, “There’s nothing new under the sun” doesn’t mean “that no ‘new’ things are ever invented in the word, for clearly that is not true… [What he means is] there is nothing new about humanity in the unfolding of all of our progress… there is no gain because the universe is cyclical and everything that is comes and goes.”[1]
Here’s the problem “the Preacher” is addressing: many see education as the primary fix for the world’s problems. After all, “knowledge is power.” Yes, learning can expand our horizons and help us access opportunities, but does getting smarter change our heart or desires? Any person who has ever tried to kick a habit or love an addict knows it doesn’t.
Increased learning also does nothing to change the human plight. We still face death. In fact, thinking about our mortality too deeply, especially if there is no good God in the picture, can become unbearable. Like the passage above says, “the more you know the more you hurt.”
The hurt associated with knowledge is real, but it’s not all bad. For those in community, it increases empathy.
It’s why I’m moved to compassion when my wife’s mentally-handicapped, 53-year-old cousin, Martha—whose mind is like a seven-year-old—gets cancer. On vacation with us just four weeks ago, she climbed a lighthouse and played tirelessly at the beach every day, all day. Now, in just one month, she’s gone from building sand castles to facing surgery.
It’s why we reel in shock at the incomprehensibility of the massacre in Las Vegas. Or why, while watching the evening news, we tear up at the devastation in Puerto Rico, or the slaughter in Myanmar that has forced many to flee to Bangladesh. These are perplexing realities of life on planet earth and they hurt.
Given the pain that some learning brings, one might ask: if knowledge isn’t really that powerful, and brings “trouble” and “hurt,” maybe ignorance really is bliss? No, the Preacher says: “there is more gain in light than in darkness” (2:13b). Ignorance is not bliss; it’s a big part of the problem. Rather than checking out with our phones, consumerism, games, binge-watching, novels, and addictions, we need to seek out and disseminate truth without fear. Compassion fatigue is real and it’s healthy to take a break from “the way things are” sometimes, but sticking our head in the sand is no answer.
So, learn away; just remember: “Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up” (1 Cor. 8:1-2). Few things make us uglier or more incapable of hearing God than pride. And, here’s the conclusion of the matter: Thinking deeply is a gift, a way to love God, and something that should lead to greater empathy and humility.
To date, I’ve found nothing better on pursuing knowledge and having a humble opinion of oneself than this piece by Thomas A Kempis from his early-fifteenth-century classic, The Imitation of Christ:
“Knowledge is a natural desire for all men. But knowledge for its own sake is useless unless you fear God. An unlearned peasant, whose contentment is the service of God, is far better than the learned and the clever, whose pride in his knowledge leads him to neglect his soul while fixing his attention on the stars.
True self-knowledge makes you aware of your own [need for grace][2] and you will take no pleasure in the praises of men. If your knowledge encompasses the universe and the love of God is not in you, what good will it do you in God’s sight? He will judge you according to your actions.
An over-weening desire for knowledge brings many distractions and much delusion. Many like to be considered learned and to be praised for their wisdom; how much knowledge there is that adds nothing to the good of the soul!…
Remember, the more you know, the more severely you will be judged. So, do not be proud of any skill or knowledge you may have, for such is an awesome responsibility. No matter how much you know, realize how much there is that you do not know. Do not be afraid to acknowledge your own ignorance.
Why have an exalted opinion of yourself when you know there are many, even in your own field, whose knowledge surpasses yours?…
Nothing is so beneficial as a true knowledge of ourselves, which produces [humility]… If you see another person commit a grievous sin, or whose faults are flagrant, do not regard yourself as better, for you do not know what you would do if similarly tempted. You are in good disposition now, but you do not know how long you will persevere in it. Always keep in mind that all are frail, but none so frail as yourself.”[3]
[1] David Gibson, Living Life Backward (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2017), 26.
[2] I have substituted “need for grace” for “worthlessness.” We are not worthless, but that’s a topic for another day.
[3] Thomas A Kempis, The Imitation of Christ (New York: Catholic Book Publishing Co., 198), 16-18.