What gain have the workers from their toil?
Mennonite Heritage Museum |
“What
gain have the workers from their toil? I have seen the business that
God has given to everyone to be busy with. He has made everything
suitable for its time; moreover he has put a sense of past and future
into their minds, yet they cannot find out what God has done from the
beginning to the end. I know that there is nothing better for them
than to be happy and enjoy themselves as long as they live; moreover,
it is God’s gift that all should eat and drink and take pleasure in
all their toil (Ecclesiastes 3: 9-13).”
Ecclesiastes’
author (the preacher? philosopher? son of David? all three?) expends
a lot of ink in the early chapters to make the point that work as
hard as we might, death can make of it all a big disappointment. I’m
reminded of the abandoned, collapsing fences and barns we see beside
the roads and highways of Saskatchewan; people once toiled to build
what were proudly erect edifices that are now nothing but nuisances
to be left to decay or be ripped up and discarded. The philosopher
characterizes all this labour as vanity, as a chasing of the wind.
This
week we buried a friend who “took pleasure in all his toil.” Jim
was the kind of guy who could build model airplanes using mainly
found materials, find a way to attach a camera and take aerial photos
of the community . . . long before drones. He could build a metal
lathe, meticulously machining all the gears and chisels and slides
and wheels to precise tolerances. He could fix virtually anything,
could build a house including all the plumbing and wiring.
As
museum curator, I’ve set myself the task of memorializing some of the inventive achievements of Jim’s life, a life which the preacher might have
characterized as vanity if he had been there to witness his spent
body being lowered into the cold ground. I doubt that Jim ever read
and pondered Ecclesiastes at any depth; Jim was dyslexic, had a hard
time wrestling meaning from the written word. But understanding the
mechanical, including the mathematical calculations and calibrations
necessary to do
the mechanical or the electrical, these things he aced and from this
“toil,” took a goodly measure of happiness.
Henry
David Thoreau said, “The mass of men live lives of quiet
desperation.” It’s an Ecclesiastes-like comment, and probably
valid. But neither Thoreau nor the preacher end with “that’s just
the way it is.” Thoreau found happiness in simplicity and a
bonding with the natural world; the preacher who wrote Ecclesiastes
found his contentment in the inevitable goodness of God. Neither
conceded that quiet desperation and vanity are the governing
principles of a short life lived. “. . . it is God’s gift that
all should eat and drink and take pleasure in all their toil,” says
the preacher.
To
toil at work that provides satisfaction is never vanity, even if in
the end that toil goes unrecognized, its “product” abused or
unappreciated. It’s a gift that blesses its recipient’s short
life. To determine to change the world is one thing, but to denigrate
the gift that gives pleasure may be just plain stupid. Isaiah 22:13:
“Let us eat and drink; for tomorrow we shall die.” It’s not
license for self-indulgence, more a cry for balance, more of an
antidote to the dieting maxim, “If it tastes good, spit it out!”
All
who are obliged for survival to do mundane, mind-numbing work should
probably take a page from Jim’s manual: take up art, grow a garden,
build a model train landscape, felt an owl, buy a horse and learn to
ride, swim the English channel, refinish a very old table, cook and
bake food that schmecks. Then enjoy what you’ve accomplished.
Or
build a metal lathe from found material. Goodbye, Jim . . . and
thanks.
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