Those who focus solely on the letter of the law and fixate on the superficial meaning may interpret these teachings through the lens of the Mosaic Law, which prescribes stoning for anyone found guilty of transgressing those statutes. Historical accounts of those who violated the Sabbath or mishandled sacred items illustrate such penalties (Numbers 7). If Ecclesiastes viewed it as a fitting moment to gather stones, despite lacking any explicit law or example to support this, I might also align with interpretations linking this saying to the law, using it to indicate that it is appropriate to cast stones at those who break the Sabbath or misuse offerings to God.
Yet, the notion that these stones are to be collected once more, a directive not stipulated by any law, invites a deeper examination. Let us endeavor to discern the nature of these stones, which must return to their original owner after being thrown. Ecclesiastes teaches us that when we hurl stones in due time, we shall likewise be able to retrieve them promptly. Thus, it appears to me that a literal interpretation of the law does not possess profound merit. What significant and righteous value lies in a purely literal understanding? If a person is caught gathering wood on the Sabbath, should they face stoning for this when no injustice accompanies the act? What wrong has been committed by someone collecting dry twigs scattered across the wilderness merely to ignite a fire? There lies no accusation of theft against them; thus, it appears unjust to condemn them for an act that ultimately benefits all. They are deemed culpable solely because it is the Sabbath.
It is common knowledge that every action, regardless of its nature, is assessed based on its inherent qualities, independent of the timing of the act. After all, what relation does the passage of time have with actions executed at our volition? When someone queries, "What is a day?", we undoubtedly respond: "The time when the sun is positioned above the earth," measuring it from dawn to dusk. The definition of a day does not belong solely to any specific day within the seven-day cycle; rather, it applies universally, even to the first through seventh days. The Sabbath, like any other day, is the same in its essence.
If one were to inquire about the meaning of sin and what transgressions to avoid against one's neighbor, we would undoubtedly enumerate: "You shall not commit adultery; you shall not murder; you shall not steal" (Exodus 20:13-15), and so forth. The overarching command encapsulating these directives is to love our neighbor as ourselves. This principle applies equally every day; when fulfilled, it is beyond excellent, and when violated, it stands in stark opposition to excellence. Thus, if any act performed on a given day is deemed sinful—be it a crime, murder, or another forbidden action—no one will consider that same act virtuous the following day. Therefore, if wickedness remains unchanged in its essence, regardless of the time it is committed, it follows that actions not accountable to the law cannot be rendered accountable by the mere passage of time.
If gathering wood and lighting a fire before the Sabbath poses no moral issue, why should these actions be deemed unlawful the following day? I recognize that the Sabbath is a day ordained for rest, and I understand the law prohibiting work, which, while not binding our natural instincts, commands a cessation of activity. Yet this command often necessitates the impossible; to demand inactivity of beings whose very essence embodies activity, such as seeing, hearing, smelling, breathing, speaking, and consuming food, is paradoxical. Is it feasible for the law of inactivity to remain unchanged when nature compels us to act? How can I persuade my eyes, designed to perceive, to refrain from sight on the Sabbath? How might I curtail my capacity for hearing? What method could I employ to inhibit my sense of smell from recognizing fragrances? Would my internal organs violate the law by refusing their natural functions, thereby leaving food undigested, all in an act of apparent observance of the Sabbath?
If the various parts of our being cannot adhere to the law of inactivity, as inaction equates to a lack of life, it follows that breaking the Sabbath becomes inevitable, even if one's hands and feet lie still. Hence, since the law addressed is not directed at an individual member but rather encompasses all of humanity, it stands to reason that we cannot fully uphold the law by maintaining immobility in one aspect while simultaneously transgressing natural inclinations in our other faculties.
The law is divine; therefore, all that God commands aligns with nature and is encompassed within the virtue of the law. A command that contradicts reason cannot possess true virtue. Consequently, we must discern the true intention behind the commandment concerning Sabbath rest. I assert that the entirety of divine law aims solely to guide those who receive it away from wickedness; while prohibitions protect against wrongdoings, the Sabbath command reinforces the necessity of abstaining from evil acts.
Thus, the commandments inscribed on tablets, the rites of the Levitical order, and the stringent observances mandated in Deuteronomy compel us toward stillness in matters of vice. If anyone interprets the law to suggest that one must refrain from vice, I am in agreement with the wisdom of Ecclesiastes, who ascertains the appropriateness of time—deeming it more fitting to cast stones against him who compiles dry twigs of vice than against one who gathers wood for a fire. However, if we abandon this deeper meaning, I fail to comprehend why the law should merit recognition as righteous.
Therefore, we must clarify which stones are cast at the individual in question so that the act of gathering twigs does not abruptly cease. If these represent wood meant to ignite a fire and should be understood not as a mere mystical symbolism—because the Apostle distinctly refers to flawed structures as "wood, hay, and stubble" (1 Corinthians 3:12), which are ultimately consumed by fire—then it is evident that the wood collected for kindling represents the empty ambitions of life. In seasons of judgment, as it is understood without straying from the essential meaning, this collection implies a mindset inclined toward sin.
Without doubt, it is through our thoughts that we cast stones that vanquish vice—these are the very stones we hurl from the metaphorical slingshot of Ecclesiastes. They must continually be both cast forth against that which opposes our existence and gathered for the soul's reservoir, ensuring we possess the means to retaliate should an enemy plot against us. Where shall we source stones to overwhelm our adversaries? I am reminded of the prophecy stating: "A holy stone will be a blessing in the earth" (Zechariah 9:16). These ancient words, passed down through sacred Scripture, are those we must gather into our souls so that in due season, we may wield them against those who oppress us; for throwing them proves so powerful that they vanquish our foes without leaving the hand of one who employs them.
Thus, whosoever, wielding the stone of purity amidst an unbridled mind, may gather combustible materials, will ultimately prevail against a corrupt mind by this very act of casting. In the same vein, truth serves as a stone against injustice, defeating it while remaining in the possession of the one who wields it. Everything understood as virtuous becomes a weapon against what is base, remaining ever within the grasp of the virtuous. Accordingly, it is essential to throw stones in the right season and to gather them in proper time, thereby ensuring we always have righteous means to vanquish iniquity and will never exhaust our resources in this endeavor.
THEOSIS