Abstract
In a refreshing new reading of Ecclesiastes, Rabbi Segal argues for a ‘discernible direction’ within the book which he sees as a narrative containing a progression of ideas. His ‘reading’ contains a brief introduction and then commentary with translation of the Hebrew text. The final section contains review essays and further thought. Segal has an interesting section on ‘roads not taken’, so he does not regard Ecclesiastes as a philosophical text; he does not like those who ‘reduce’ its complexities; he does not think it is ambiguous, nor pessimistic and certainly not absurd and he rejects reconstructions that seek to place new ideas into Kohelet’s mouth.
Segal finds two speakers in the book – the narrator in 1:1–2; 7:27b and 12:8–14 and the rest ‘Kohelet’. He sees the ‘narrator’ as a countervoice, displaying clear reservations with the text he narrates. However, he ultimately argues for one author uniting these speakers. Segal puts an interesting, postmodern emphasis on the reader who is invited into the complex relationship with Kohelet and his quest for meaning. This quest is conveyed in the text—Kohelet tries to understand but ultimately fails, thus challenging his own stated aim.
Segal argues for progression as the book unfolds. The writer changes and. after all, there is something new under the sun. Segal argues of Kohelet that ‘he is not at the end of the book who he was at the beginning’ (p. 107). The book moves from ‘big ideas’ about nature and time and a presentation of the richest and wisest king ever known (Solomon) in Part 1 (1:3–3:9) to a large section of observations and anecdotes in which Kohelet shows empathy with others and their experiences (Part 2: 3:10–11:7). Segal argues that this section can be subdivided into six smaller sections built around the theme of ‘enjoyment’: i.e. the experience of joyous moments within an otherwise less than happy life. In Part 3 (11:8–12:7) Kohelet narrows his field of observation further, with increasing personalization of his experience towards old age and dying. Segal notes that, in line with this progression, Kohelet’s language changes in three ways: 1. Terms change their primary connotations as they reappear; 2. Terms cease (or begin) appearing and 3. Concentrations of words shift. So the famous term ‘hevel’ usually translated ‘vanity’ (KJV) but translated ‘vapour/vaporous’ by Segal decreases in use, so he argues, towards the end of the book with increasing personal application. This progression of ideas reveals a narrative time sequence and plot of sorts, parallel to Kohelet’s own ageing. Hence more philosophical musings gradually evolve into a personal urgency in the search for meaning. For the reader, as for the writer, there is no resolution.
Segal finds eight different ‘voices’ of Kohelet, also reflecting the different stages and circumstances of his life and using different modes of literary reflection. The ‘contradictions’ can be understood as having evolved as the author himself aged, but they are not the author contradicting himself rather they are the observation of contradiction in life. This is a thought-provoking ‘reading’ and Segal manages to convey the complexity both of Ecclesiastes the book and of the issues surrounding it. He cites more than once a phrase of Thomas Mann which seems to sum up Kohelet’s contradictory nature: ‘a great truth is a truth whose opposite is also a truth’. The story of Kohelet’s quest reveals such truths.