The End of the Matter
April 9, 2023
Preached by Benjamin Vrbicek
Scripture Reading
Ecclesiastes 12:9–14
9 Besides being wise, the Preacher also taught the people knowledge, weighing and studying and arranging many proverbs with great care. 10 The Preacher sought to find words of delight, and uprightly he wrote words of truth.
11 The words of the wise are like goads, and like nails firmly fixed are the collected sayings; they are given by one Shepherd. 12 My son, beware of anything beyond these. Of making many books there is no end, and much study is a weariness of the flesh.
13 The end of the matter; all has been heard. Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the whole duty of man. 14 For God will bring every deed into judgment, with every secret thing, whether good or evil.
For at least three months I’ve been asking myself a question. Some of you have been asking the exact same question. I know because in hushed tones and text messages you’ve asked me the question. The book of Ecclesiastes “works” during Lent. A preaching study through the book of Ecclesiastes works during Lent because Lent is a time of searching and sacrifice, a time for sober repentance and serious reflection. But does Ecclesiastes work on Easter? That’s the question. Does Ecclesiastes work on Easter, on resurrection morning? We’ll find out. But I think it does.
At the end of the book, we come to what the Preacher calls “the end of the matter.” Reading from v. 13: “The end of the matter; all has been heard,” he says. The phrase implies a final verdict. No more discussion, no more deliberation, no more footnotes or nuance—only verdict, only finality.
About this time two years ago I had jury duty. Jury duty, for me, took a wild turn of events. Beforehand I asked a lawyer at our church what I needed to do so I’d have a great chance of being picked for the jury. (Yes, I’m the weird sort of person who wanted to be picked.) He told me the best thing I could do was to have a “low jury number,” which was his way of teasing me that I should control something I had no control over. I show up on the day of selection to find out I’m number 47 of 50. I’m seated so far in the back I can’t see the face of the judge or the lawyers. I don’t get picked for the jury. I don’t get picked as the first alternate. But I do get picked as the second alternate.
A week later, I report for our day in court. Two jurors don’t show. Now, I’m the twelfth juror. After seven hours of testimony, the jury selects me to be the foreman, which means I lead discussion for several hours into the evening, which didn’t go particularly well. Then, after all the testimony and examination and cross-examination, all the witnesses and experts and law enforcement and detectives the defendant have spoken, and after the prosecution and defense have made closing arguments—then after all the deliberation by the jury—I stand up and read the verdict to the courtroom generally but particularly to the defendant and state he is . . . guilty. The end of the matter.
Ecclesiastes is a book about the meaning of life, the end of the matter. How do you summarize the meaning of life? How do you boil everything down? When it comes to your life, what is the end of the matter? Maybe you don’t like that question because it feels too big. I’m not sure many of us like the question, which is why most of us don’t major in philosophy. But whether we like the question or not, I suspect we can see the usefulness, even the necessity, of such a question.
A Preacher with the Final Word and a Good Book
In the beginning of our passage, the Preacher—as he’s called himself throughout the book—reminds who he is. In v. 9 we read, “Besides being wise, the Preacher also taught the people knowledge, weighing and studying and arranging many proverbs with great care.” This is one of many details that help readers see the connection to King Solomon, a king renowned for his wisdom and writing of proverbs. Perhaps Solomon himself is the Preacher in Ecclesiastes or perhaps someone wrote Ecclesiastes the way Solomon could have written the book, indeed should have written the book.
Weeks ago, when we first began this series, I mentioned Prince Harry and his new memoir Spare. The world is interested in Spare because Prince Harry is an interesting person. He’s the son of the iconic Princes Diana, he’s the husband to actress and model, Meghan Markle, and he has a lot of wealth and influence.
Prince Harry’s new book opens with a story of him in a garden cemetery waiting for a secret meeting with his father and older brother. It’s a few hours after Harry’s grandfather’s funeral. After talking about other royal family members who have died and their bodies are in that garden cemetery, and after talking about all their lives’ work and all their royal family squabbles, Prince Harry asks, “Did any of it matter in the end? I wondered if [those who had already died] wondered at all. Were they floating in some airy realm, still mulling their choices, or where they Nowhere, thinking of Nothing. Could there really be a Nothing after this? Does consciousness, like time, have a stop?”
“Did any of it matter in the end?” he asks. Prince Harry seems not to know. But the Prince in the book of Ecclesiastes, the Preacher of Ecclesiastes, does know what matters in the end matters a lot. And he wants you to know too.
He knows what he say about the end of the matter may poke us a bit, so before he tells ends his sermon, before he gets to the end of the matter, he first wants to say something about the Bible and the God who wrote it. Look again at what he says in vv. 11–12.
The words of the wise are like goads, and like nails firmly fixed are the collected sayings; they are given by one Shepherd. My son, beware of anything beyond these. Of making many books there is no end, and much study is a weariness of the flesh. (Ecc. 12:11–12)
We don’t speak goads or an ox goad very often—most of us, anyway, and especially on Easter. A goad is a stick with a point on the end. The point on the goad isn’t to injure the oxen but for the shepherd to apply pressure to redirect the oxen to keep them safe. The Preacher says that is what the Bible is like. It might poke and prod at times, and the Bible might feel like it’s pushing us in directions we don’t want to go. But the Preacher wants us to know who holds the goad: the one Shepherd, meaning God. The Preacher is saying that behind the words of human authors is the voice of God.
This statement about the Bible and this phrasing about “goads” makes me think of the apostle Paul. Paul, who was first called Saul, had thought he was following God. In reality, he was guilty of following his own pride, trying to earn is way to God. But then the risen, resurrected, living Jesus showed up to Saul while he was on the way to a town called Damascus. Jesus confronts Saul for his sin, tells Saul of his guilty verdict, and makes Saul temporarily blind. Then Jesus sends other Christians to tell him more about God’s love and forgiveness and the plan God has for Paul’s life. You can read the story in a book of the Bible called Acts. It’s in chapter 9.
Here’s what’s interesting, though. About twenty-five years later, Paul retells that same story of how Jesus changed his life. He tells the story to people who don’t know Jesus; they don’t know God, and yet Paul wants them to know Jesus. Here’s how Paul recounts his interaction with the living, resurrected Jesus in Acts 26.
I journeyed to Damascus . . . . At midday . . . I saw on the way a light from heaven, brighter than the sun, that shone around me and those who journeyed with me. And when we had all fallen to the ground, I heard a voice saying to me in the Hebrew language, “Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me? It is hard for you to kick against the goads.” And I said, “Who are you, Lord?” And the Lord said, “I am Jesus whom you are persecuting.” (Acts 26:12–14).
That language of “kicking against the goads” isn’t mentioned in the first account. The phrase likens Paul to an ox who, when Jesus tried to get his attention with his Word, Paul kicked violently. How about you? You ever done that? God’s getting your attention and you kick at him? I find Paul’s mature reflection on his own conversion fascinating. The gospel is the good news about the risen Jesus who offers salvation that can’t be earned. And to Paul, in his pride, that good news felt like something to kick against. But—later—the good news of the risen Jesus became what he built his life upon.
What about you? Maybe you find yourself this morning kicking against good news.
A Judgement that Brings Victory
All this in Ecclesiastes sets us up for the Preacher’s final comments. The end of the matter has two things that we might kick against, but they are for our good. Look with me again at the final words of Ecclesiastes.
The end of the matter; all has been heard. Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the whole duty of man. For God will bring every deed into judgment, with every secret thing, whether good or evil. (Ecc. 12:13–14)
The preachers speaks of “fearing God” and “God’s judgement.” These “goads” might not seem like good news. But they are. We have to understand fear and judgment in light of the Preacher’s whole sermon, in light of the whole book in light of the Bible.
Remember, here we have the mature Grandpa Solomon sitting on the porch talking with his son talking about life. Solomon had nearly limitless wisdom, servants, and pleasure. The Queen of Sheba visited Solomon and could not believe the extent of Solomon’s wisdom and wealth. And about all that wealth and knowledge and pleasure, the Preacher says, “Boy, that’s ain’t it.” The Preacher tells his son—indeed he tells you—that the end of the matter is to fear God.
That may be strange wording to you; it may goad. But when you think about the things you fear, they have a power over you. If you’re afraid of the dark—or afraid of snakes, spiders, mice—you’ll have a reaction. If you fear people, or a health challenge like cancer, or you fear relationships might never happen or career moves might never happen, those fears have a power over you. Fears shape your behavior.
Solomon says, if your highest fear and reverence and awe is toward God, then that fear will order your life. But in a good way. Here we see the link between Solomon’s two books, the book of Proverbs and Ecclesiastes. The two books overlap in their application for readers to fear of the Lord (cf. Ecc. 3:14; 5:7; Prov. 1:7).
We might use other words, but Solomon wants you to be in a relationship with God where God has the highest authority over your life. That would be terrible news if God were not good. But the one Shepherd is the Good Shepherd. At the end of Solomon’s life, after he chased all that could be chased and ruined all that could be ruined, the Preacher wants you to know God.
And that changes how we view his lines about judgment. Look at the final verse in the book. We read, “For God will bring every deed into judgment, with every secret thing, whether good or evil” (12:14). The mature reflection from the Preacher sees God’s judgment as a blessing (see Zack Eswine, Recovering Eden).
That might seem strange to us, but nearly thirty times the Preacher has said we live “under the sun.” And life under the sun is harsh. In life under the sun, injustices seem to have the final word, the final verdict. Throughout the book the Preacher has given example after example of injustice and evil. Good people get punished, and bad people get blessings (cf. 3:16; 8:11; 9:13–15). This is why God’s final judgement is good news.
We often find ourselves as the semi-comfortable middle class who are thankful to God, but often only believe we need God for better lives. To us, judgement seems strange. But think of how this promise of judgment encourages the oppressed and the abused.
I’ll put it like this. I’m a pastor who sends his children to a school called Covenant. It’s just five minutes from here. But there is another pastor at who sent his child to a different school also named Covenant—one fifteen hours from here—and he lost his daughter two weeks ago in violence under the sun. These words here in Ecclesiastes about a final judgement are words of hope to those who mourn. They promise that this world will one day be what it was meant to be. Church, this is where Ecclesiastes and Easter beautifully collide.
After all the testimony and evidence has been considered, and all the examination and cross-examination, when the Judge looks Solomon in the eyes, the final verdict over Solomon’s life was guilty. When every thought, word, and deed are weighed, a guilty verdict hangs Solomon’s life—just as it hangs over mine, just as it hangs over yours.
So what’s Solomon’s hope? What is the end of the matter? Solomon’s hope is that someone greater than Solomon would come and make this world right. Solomon knew our problems in this world and our problems with God would only be fixed by God.
When Jesus was once asked a question, in the course of answering he said, “something greater than Solomon is here” (Matt. 12:42). Oh, church, on this Easter morning, lift up your heads. The cross is empty, the tomb is empty, and if you by faith fear God, then you have nothing to fear. When Solomon died, he died. When the one greater than Solomon died, he rose again.
And because Jesus is risen from the dead, everything the Bible ever promised will come true. Because Jesus—the one Shepherd—is risen from the dead, it means for you that he will come again in glory and to bless his people. Because Jesus—the Good Shepherd—is risen from the dead, it means for you that every sin and wrongdoing will be finally defeated.
Prince Harry said he doesn’t know whether one day we’ll just cease to exist. But Prince Solomon is part of the greater story, the collected sayings that tells us that because Jesus is risen from the dead, anything and everything that has kept you from experiencing the highest joys and happiness will one day be no more. Because Jesus is risen from the dead, everything sad will come untrue. Because Jesus is risen from the dead, the one greater than Solomon gives us what we could never earn: instead of guilty in God’s final judgment, we don’t simply hear forgiven, but we hear “friend.”
When we sit so close to the final Judge and jury, indeed when we sit so close to God himself that we can see his face, we’ll see him smile.
Ecclesiastes works on Easter because the Preacher’s only hope is the Easter story. The Preacher’s only hope, and our only hope, is the story of the one greater than Solomon who has come, and because he’s alive, will come again. And his coming again will be good news.
I’ll invite the music team forward as I pray. Let’s pray. “Dear Heavenly Father. . .”
Sermon Discussion Questions
How has your understanding of the book of Ecclesiastes changed as we’ve studied it together? Do you find yourself liking the book more or less?
The author speaks of the “whole duty of man,” which indicates that we are to live before God wholly, or without compartmentalizing our lives (work, sexuality, money, relationships, religious, and recreations). When we divide our faith from other parts of our life, what are we saying about ourselves and about God? How have you been guilty of compartmentalizing your faith? Why is it better to live for God in an un-compartmentalized way?
The Preacher likens the Bible to an “ox goad,” that is, a tool of the shepherd to keep his animals on the safe path. The imagery also features prominently in Paul’s conversion on the Damascus Road (see Acts 26:14). In your life, where do you most feel the Bible as a goad—in other words, in what ways is God trying to get your attention through his Word?
The passage speaks of a judgment where every good and evil deed will be punished. This brings up several questions. For the Preacher, the judgement is a blessing because the miscarriages of justice “under the sun” will finally be corrected. Can you think of injustices in this life that have happened to you or those you love? How is a final, perfect judgement an encouraging promise? Also, how should the reality of an eternal judgment change the way you live now? Finally, how is this reality about judgment in the book of Ecclesiastes preparing readers to receive the gospel story?
The passage speaks of the “one Shepherd” who gives authoritative wisdom in the Bible. Jesus calls himself the good Shepherd (see John 10). Name a few of the many ways that Jesus a good Shepherd to his people?
