So, what insights can we draw from the third conversation? It seems to convey a lesson particularly appropriate for those within the Church—the acknowledgment of experiences that fail to align with virtue, which brings forth a painful sense of shame within the soul. God has instilled this shame in us to serve as a powerful deterrent against sin, enabling us to develop an aversion to the gravest of transgressions. Shame and the painful experience of shame are closely related; both serve to crucify sin, provided we are willing to wield such inner disposition for that end. Indeed, often it is shame that teaches us to avoid wrongful actions more effectively than mere fear. The shame that ensues from acknowledging wrongdoing can deter a sinner from repeating similar errors.
If one sought to differentiate between shame and shame, the former represents the highest form of shame, while the latter signifies a lesser degree. The distinction between these feelings is manifested on the human face through blushing; a mild blush may reflect a compassionate disposition of the soul, while an intense flush arises from fear mingled with deeper emotions. Such feelings are sufficient for those who risk engaging in wrongful acts, prompting them to retreat from what has brought them shame after its recognition.
If this observation holds true—that Scripture acknowledges this essential, painful human experience, ingrained in nature as a safeguard against wrongdoing—then the confession of sins serves as a valuable lesson for the Church. Through this act, one safeguards their soul with the weapon of shame. Just as a person suffering from excessive gluttony might recognize their discomfort leading to a fever and seek remedy through surgical intervention, so too does one who admits their secret transgressions find a guide in the recollection of their shameful acts for future conduct.
This is the essence of the Church's teaching through this passage from Ecclesiastes. The speaker candidly reveals his actions before all, as if documenting a confession in a public manner, suggesting that ignorance or silence regarding such actions is more commendable than speech itself. Whether he genuinely experienced these indulgences or crafted them for our learning remains uncertain, but he articulates thoughts that a virtuous person would generally avoid. If he, with astute observation, describes unvirtuous deeds as if they were his own experiences, doing so to discourage us from pursuing what is condemned, then whether he indulged in such pleasures to better understand their opposite remains a matter of personal discernment.
However, should one assert that Solomon learned firsthand the pleasures of life, we can perceive this analogy: Just as those who dive into the ocean to seek pearls do not enjoy the distress of immersion but are driven by the hope of gain, so too might Solomon have engaged in pleasure—not to be overwhelmed by it—but to extract wisdom beneficial to the mind. What he uncovers in this manner, I believe, serves either to lessen the allure of bodily impulses by permitting moderate enjoyment, as nature tends to crave what is forbidden, or to make him an insightful teacher, rendering vanity less appealing to those who have learned its true nature through experience.
It is often noted that physicians excel in their practice when they have encountered ailments themselves, becoming reliable healers for those afflictions they have personally overcome. Let us, therefore, consider what the one who cures our life acknowledges as having suffered. He proclaims, “Magnify my creation, build my structures.” The speaker commences his discourse with condemnation, insisting on personal ownership in the act of creation, rather than attributing solely to God. His creation, in essence, caters to sensory pleasures, and while presented as singular, is, upon dissection, diversified to meet various desires.
A person who immerses themselves in materiality will likely look around, seeking pleasure from every source. Just as water from a single spring spreads across many paths, maintaining its essence yet manifesting in variety, so does pleasure derive from a singular nature, presenting diversely through different pursuits, becoming ubiquitous and responsive to life's needs. Life necessitates housing, providing a refuge from environmental extremes. Still, pleasure drives humanity beyond mere necessity, leading them to create lavish spaces not only for basic shelter but also for aesthetic fulfillment.
He laments that he has not constructed a dwelling within the skies and that sunlight is not suspended from his ceiling. He scatters rooms in every direction, fabricating a complex of structures, building walls tall and diversifying interiors with carefully selected materials from exotic places. The artistry employed in arranging stones, producing visually striking marble, and embellishing with gilded touches serves only to ignite avarice. There is an elaborate display of ceiling designs wherein cedar resembles mythical trees through craftsmanship, each branch and leaf intricately crafted to capture the illusion of nature. He highlights the golden accents that tempt the envy of beholders, and he marvels at ornate entrances adorned with ivory and silver embellishments.
Yet Ecclesiastes remarks on the futility of glorifying these numerous and extravagant houses, which serve not true necessity but rather whims that transition from one absurdity to the next. Some buildings cater to recreation while others offer passageways, while still more serve as entrances and thresholds, yet unless they elicit awe upon entry, their grandeur is of little consequence. Each aspect is designed for opulence, with abundant water flowing through fountains, dedicated exercise areas lavishly adorned with marble, and surrounding porches propped by majestic pillars. The artistry of bronze statues expresses a thousand forms, while marble sculptures and vivid paintings incite indulgence of the senses—art imitating beauty portrayed in marvelous splendor.
How can one catalog all that demands attention—an endeavor that signifies negligence toward what holds deeper significance? The greater a man's obsession with construction and opulence, the more he reveals the emptiness in his soul's ornamentation. In contrast, one who attends to their own dwelling, preparing to welcome God into it, amasses different treasures fashioned from the wisdom of divine truth. One can gather gold from the depths of sacred texts or seek silver in the light of God's eloquent words, which shine with veracity, as the walls of their temple are adorned with virtues directing their decorum.
Let self-control be the foundation, guarding the dwelling against earthly distractions; let heavenly confidence illuminate the ceiling, revealing not mere facsimiles of beauty created by artisans but the true Image of beauty, clothed in that which exceeds gold and surpasses all precious stones. Should one aspire to describe the adornment of various parts, then let incorruption and invulnerability decorate some areas, while truth and humility grace others—love harmoniously weaving each quality together.
If one desires baptismal fonts, they possess their own within, drawing from the source to cleanse their soul, similarly to how David found solace during the night. The pillars upholding their spirit should not be of rare, exotic stone but rather grounded in steadfastness and unwavering commitment to good. Such a dwelling, filled with the artistry of truth, eschews artificial replicas meant to deceive; instead, a focus on the commandment's exercise retains clear intention.
Wisdom states, “In the paths of righteousness I walk, and in the midst of the paths of justice I dwell” (Proverbs 8:20). What beauty arises from the heart engaged in these righteous pursuits? The one who fulfills divine commandments must cultivate virtue, thereby decorating life with righteousness consistently. This individual, beautifying their spirit, need not concern themselves with earthly concerns or precious relics; they possess their true wealth within, drawing from the virtues cultivated in their own souls.
The spiritually discerning recognize vice as a mark of regret, whereas for the foolish, drunkenness brings forth mockery. The multitude of passionate impulses revealed through expressions of viticulture becomes evident, showcasing how wine can incite various excessive behaviors. All the destructive outcomes provoked by wine are articulated: immoderation fuels lasciviousness and indulgence, leading to youthful corruption, disgrace in old age, dishonor toward spouses, and derangement of the soul.
From this comes laughter devoid of reason, tears without cause, boasting without merit, and numerous other misadventures. What could have spurred such disastrous acts as incest within Lot's family? Under the influence of wine, reason faded, and tragic decisions ensued—how wine brought forth these shameful incidents! How tragic that such corrupting influences were imported from Sodom!
With numerous examples divulging the calamity induced by wine, one confesses freely their indulgences—not only partaking themselves but also providing abundantly for others. “I will plant my own vines,” he states, “though I have no need for them, for I am myself a fruitful vine, adorned with clusters of virtue.” One who cultivates such virtues transforms their land according to the divine law, yielding life through discernment and trimming away the superfluous, enriching their spirit with wisdom drawn from righteousness that flows like a well-tended vineyard.
Conversely, one inclined towards earthly pleasures remains blind to true planting, as they seek embellishments of mere gardens, failing to perceive the singular paradise that embodies their true yearning. What use is such excess when, in a garden of virtue, they find true joy? If the soul remains steadfast in its health, it will desire only that sustenance which nourishes, shunning trivial pursuits as it upholds higher ideals.
Yet when lavish tastes eclipse essential needs, and desire spirals out of control, one may succumb to indulgence—seeking pleasure from nature through opulent dwellings adorned with all forms of luxurious growth. The land transforms through cultivation, presenting an illusion of paradise, while the soul longs for the true garden, forever suffused with the joy of divine craftsmanship.
As magnificent as artificial creations may appear, they pale in significance compared to the beauty found in the simplicity and purity of divine virtues cultivated within the heart. Thus, through exhaustive toil, one claims, “I planted trees of every kind of fruit,” indicating that within the realm of artificiality, an abundance of earthly delights cannot satisfy the deeper yearning for the divine.
THEOSIS