Ecclesiastes Chapter Nine, Time & Chance

Ecclesiastes 9:11 I returned and saw under the sun that–the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, nor bread to the wise, nor riches to men of understanding, nor favor to men of skill; but time and chance happen to them all. [12] For man also does not know his time: like fish taken in a cruel net, like birds caught in a snare, so the sons of men are snared in an evil time, when it falls suddenly upon them.

The preacher returns from his visit to the grave–the ultimate abode of all the living, and sees under the sun that the outcome of life’s experiences does not necessarily occur to those supposedly most deserving. He begins with the idea of the foot race. The race is not always won by the swiftest athlete.

Why does the preacher begin making these observances? The preacher is a people watcher and a keen observationalist. He understands people, being one himself, and employs his wisdom in an effort to answer riddles and conundrums. This riddle, however, baffles him, and so he fixates on several incongruities that leave him pondering what should be clear and decisive outcomes. The first of which is the swiftest racer not always being the winner in a contest.

What follows is a litany of other episodes that apparently mystify the preacher. He laments that the battle is not won by the strong. Of course in the preacher’s time warfare was markedly different. Instead of guns and bombs there were swords and spears. If you wanted a man dead you needed to look him in the eye as you took his life. The idea of personal combat seemed to radiate the notion that a superb specimen of physicality would win in any engagement he threw himself into. The preacher corrects this specious thought. Like the warrior, the wise do not always excel or gain from wisdom. The wise does not always earn wages from his ability to impart pithy sayings to potentates. They can be destitute, clad in rags, covered in disease, found in gutters where wisdom is hard won. Furthermore, possessing wisdom and obeying it are two very different things, but I digress.

Like the benefits of wisdom, men of understanding do not always amass wealth from their knowledge. Brilliant men and women are not certain to become masters of their field of study, destined for material greatness. In fact, I would posit that many knowledgeable people are not gaining said knowledge for the sake of wealth. The curiosity to know tends to compel those who are great. No matter the case, the preacher, who likely personally associates himself with the wise and understanding, is grieved that such people do not attain to a worldly standard of success.

Men of skill are artisans. Carpenters, masons, glass blowers, tailors, etc. fall into this category. They work with their hands, and not only that, they grow in ability well beyond the pale of what the average person would define as a normal threshold. For instance, there is a distinct difference in skill level between those who put together a plain stone house, and the geniuses that manufactured the pyramids of Egypt. Both parties are gifted, yes. But some things reveal the brilliance of the one who made them and are a mute testimony to the profound giftedness they possess. But for even this, the preacher mourns the fact that favor is not always given to them. What is given to them, along with the rest of the company they keep in this verse?

Time and chance. If one were to focus just on this phrase, you would be forgiven if you thought you suddenly wandered into a symposium about Darwinian Evolution. Darwin’s priests could not have framed the supposed origins of life and the universe itself in better terms. But rather than the blessed sacraments of upward progression, time and chance are coupled in this verse in terms of immense frustrations for the preacher. They are walls he cannot bypass, or a gulf he cannot cross, that swallows up anyone who dares to try. Time and chance ruin the runner, the soldier, the wise and learned, as well as the artisan. There is no knowing, because these agents have no rhyme or reason; they simply happen. They happen to the good, to the bad, to the young, to the old. When chance springs up, or when it becomes our time, there is no argument to brook. We must resign ourselves to their decision. But therein is the rub; there is no decision being made, nothing intelligent is occurring. There is nothing to gain from experiencing it, and nothing lost when it comes to pass. It simply is, and proves to be two unwitting, uncaring instruments in the almighty hand of death, that great leveler.

He says of this, that men are snared like fish or birds caught in a flash. Man does not know his time; of course this time refers to the moment of our death. We are unaware of how soon or how far away death is. Like the aforementioned animals, when the trap is sprung their fate is sealed. By the time they are aware it is completely too late to do anything but succumb. The preacher refers to the day of death as “an evil time.” He further likens death’s approach as falling suddenly upon us. Whether it is the slow wasting of disease, being hit by a car, passing quietly in our sleep, death is the same for every person. One moment we are alive; in the next instant life is gone and the body is slack and empty. We are another casualty of the war, and the length of our service, that is life under the sun, is cruelly decided upon by the agents we most despise: time and chance. The preacher mocks at the fortune tellers of the world by informing them that chance is not something a person may predict. Death is coming; but none know when, or how. Neither may we ask why, so long as life on earth is all that we observe. Why is a pointless question, because death, time and chance do not have a point to make. It’s just something that happens on a universal scale. Asking why and expecting a reasonable, objective, and universal answer would be on par with asking what the color blue smells like. There is none; and while we may personally attach our own rationale to such an answer (for either question) it is in lieu of genuinely possessing one from a source greater than death, time and chance.