When the Teacher Runs Out of Answers
Ecclesiastes 7 might be the hardest chapter in the book so far. For six chapters, the Teacher has been building trust with us, offering observations that, however cynical or dry, generally line up with the rest of Scripture. Then we hit chapter 7, and Qohelet seems to lose it. This chapter is part cynicism, part anger, part protest, part lament. It's the sound of a weary heart finally boiling over.
Before we dig in, one reading principle matters more here than almost anywhere else in Ecclesiastes: the difference between prescriptive and descriptive. Is the Teacher telling us what to do, or just telling us what he sees? Keep that question in mind, because it will save us from some bad theology.
The Trouble with "Wise" People
Qohelet opens with a hard truth about wisdom and the people who claim it: wisdom is good, but people are fallible. Wisdom is priceless, but everyone has a price.
In verse 7 he puts his fellow sages on blast. Money makes people stupid. Advisors and experts can be bought, made to say whatever the highest bidder wants. Wisdom is no insulator from the corruption of wealth, and it doesn't always put bread on the table either. "Knowledge is power," sure, but money talks. It doesn't matter how smart you are if the systems around you are pay-to-play. As the cynical saying goes, "The Golden Rule of politics is: he who has the gold makes the rules."
Even those of us who think of ourselves as wise are hypocrites in the end. In verses 21-22 the Teacher calls this out directly: we don't want to hear what others say about us, yet we know good and well we've said the same kind of things about them. Wisdom doesn't shield us from criticism, and it doesn't shield us from our own hypocrisy.
Jesus knew all of this too. It's why so much of his ministry warned against the love of money, the danger of hypocrisy, and the corruption of religious and political power. None of that has a place in the Kingdom of God. We're called to be people of integrity, people who can't be bought, because we've already been bought by the blood of Christ. We're called to let our actions match our words, and to hold leaders to a high moral standard while still honoring their authority.
Moderately Wicked?
One of the strangest passages in the chapter is the Teacher's advice to pursue moderation in both goodness and wickedness. Don't be too righteous. Don't be too wicked. Walk the middle road.
Moderation is usually good advice. Don't starve yourself, but don't overindulge either. Don't drive 95, but don't putter at 40. Avoid extremes. But does that logic apply to morality and faith? According to the Teacher, yes. Does that fly in the face of the rest of Scripture? Also yes. Let's unpack it.
Qohelet is right to warn against being "excessively righteous." There's a word for it: scrupulosity, the tendency to obsess over doing good until it curdles into legalism. Jesus didn't confront the Pharisees for breaking the Law. He confronted them for building fences around the Law and binding others to those man-made boundaries. We do the same thing today. A call for modesty becomes a rule about hemlines. A warning against drunkenness becomes a ban on all alcohol. Sexual ethics morphs into "thou shalt not dance."
This pattern goes all the way back to Eden. God told Adam not to eat from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. When Eve repeats the command to the serpent in Genesis 3, she adds a layer: "you must not eat it or touch it." Extra rules rarely deter the behavior they're meant to prevent. If anything, they draw more attention to it. (Ever seen Footloose?) But they can look like wisdom.
Paul names this directly in Colossians 2:20-23, warning believers against submitting to man-made rules like "don't handle, don't taste, don't touch." He says such regulations have "a reputation for wisdom" through self-made religion and severe treatment of the body, but they carry no actual power to curb self-indulgence. We shouldn't try to "out-Christian" Christ by piling on rules he never gave. It only feeds our ego and our judgment of others, and that's just as worldly as the hedonism on the other end of the spectrum.
So does the Teacher's warning against being "excessively wicked" mean a little wickedness is fine? This is where the descriptive-versus-prescriptive lens matters most. I don't think Qohelet is prescribing a middle path through morality. I think he's venting his frustration that no one can live up to their own standards, let alone God's. The Law of Moses has 613 commands, none of us keep them perfectly. Jesus said "love God, love your neighbor" and "be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect." Adam and Eve had exactly one rule, and they broke it. It can feel like we're set up to fail. So why bother? (asks the Teacher).
Thank God for grace.
In Romans, Paul builds the case that everyone, Jew or Gentile, has sinned and fallen short of God's glory. His language in Romans 3:10, "there is no one righteous, not even one," echoes Ecclesiastes 7:20 almost word for word. It's as if Paul is writing back to Qohelet directly. And where the Teacher is ready to throw in the towel, Paul offers the answer in Romans 5: while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. Where one man's trespass brought condemnation, one man's obedience brings justification and life. Where sin multiplied, grace multiplied even more.
We're saved by grace through faith, not moral perfection. When we fall short, God's grace covers us and empowers us to actually live the life we're called to. Self-righteousness will destroy us. So will rebellion. The solution to both isn't moderation, it's grace, mercy, forgiveness, and love.
For Better or Worse
Finally, consider Ecclesiastes 7:13-15, where the Teacher says God has made some things crooked, that God is behind both our good days and bad, and that sometimes the righteous die young while the wicked live long. Is God to blame for the evil in this world?
Job certainly assumed so; in Job 2:10 he asks, "should we accept only good from God, and not adversity?" Isaiah says something similar on God's behalf: "I form light and create darkness, I make success and create disaster; I am the Lord, who does all these things" (Isaiah 45:7).
But Jesus reframes the picture in the Sermon on the Mount: God "causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous" (Matthew 5:45), a statement made in the context of loving our enemies, not just our neighbors. James echoes it: "every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights" (James 1:16-17).
Interestingly, Qohelet himself seems to shift by verse 29: "God made people upright, but they pursued many schemes." He stops pointing at God and starts pointing at us. God made creation good, very good, but we made a mess of it. Once sin entered the picture, creation itself was "subject to futility" (Romans 8:20).
God's answer to suffering was never to erase our pain, but to enter into it with us. God-made-flesh experienced everything this world could throw at him, and redeemed it. There may not be a tidy reason behind the suffering you're facing, but God can still bring meaning through it. Joseph put it this way: "you meant it for evil, but God meant it for good." Paul said God "works all things together for the good of those who love him."
One day, every crooked path will be made straight. Every tear will be wiped away. There will be no more sorrow, death, or separation. If only Qohelet could have seen how the story ends.
Think About It
Where in your own life has "scrupulosity," turning a good desire into a rigid rule, done more harm than the thing you were trying to avoid in the first place?
Qohelet seems ready to give up on wisdom altogether once he sees how easily it's corrupted or bought. What keeps you pursuing wisdom and integrity even when you see wise people fail?
When have you been tempted to blame God for something crooked in your life, only to realize later the mess was closer to home than you thought?
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