Ecclesiastes 4:1-6

IN VERSES 4-6, the Preacher turns to a subject that is especially relevant for Christians in Singapore: competitiveness.


Competitiveness can be said to be healthy in that it may contribute to character formation. But it has its obvious negative side: its task-oriented character diminishes the importance of relationship, and its combatant nature can easily degenerate into a nasty self-centredness that willingly casts aside moral principles.


In verse 4, the Preacher highlights one of the most powerful motivations of competitiveness: envy. "And I saw that all labour and all achievement spring from man's envy of his neighbour." Does this not ring true? Is it not the case that much of our hard work and lofty endeavours merely serve to feed our almost pathological determination to outshine and not be outshone? Is it not our envy of others and our desire to be envied by others the hidden impetus of some of our projects?


It is not just the case of keeping up with the Jones. It is the case of constantly seeking to outdo the Jones that we are concerned with here. The Preacher has this to say to those whose motivation for hard work is envy: "It is [in the end] meaningless, a chasing after the wind."


There is, however, the other extreme. The fool who folds his hands is a dropout. He has chosen to take the opposite attitude by over-reacting against the competitiveness that so pervades society by passiveness and sloth. The end result, however, is disastrous ruin, and it is graphically depicted here as a form of "cannibalism".

Derek Kidner describes the tragic consequence of such passiveness with vividness and eloquence: "His idleness eats away not only what he has but what he is: eroding his self-control, his grasp of reality, his capacity for care and, in the end his self-respect".

We encounter these two attitudes daily in the workplace. There's the unscrupulous boss who finds pleasure in bullying his subordinates and taking advantage of them. There's that colleague who would do anything to advance himself. He relentlessly drives himself with calculated deftness towards the top of the corporate ladder. "Two hands of toil" (v 5) symbolise this grasping obsession, this insatiable thirst for personal advancement, this impenetrable preoccupation with being No. 1.

Then, there's the opposite extreme. The sloth who simply opts out of the rat race, the escapist who shuns "two-fisted grasping" and embraces instead "hand-folding laziness". Both attitudes are equally destructive.


Is there a mean between the extremes? While this question is valid, it must be qualified. The Bible does not simply present the middle way between two extreme positions. Similarly the Bible is not interested in balance. Truth can be very extreme for the relativist. Here, the Preacher does not present the middle way (via media) between two extreme attitudes. Rather, he presents a radical alternative to two sinful positions. This he does eloquently: "Better one handful of tranquillity." Against the extremes of obsessive competition and irresponsible laziness, the Preacher recommends a modest and contented life.


We shall have much to say about contentment later. What the Preacher is recommending here is that we live our lives with objectivity and measured moderation.
On the one hand, we refuse to be sucked into the rat race with all its trappings and temptations. We do not give in to an obsessive competitiveness that causes us to lose our humanity. We refuse to be perverted by greed or envy. In a word, we refuse to be mastered by the prevailing zeitgeist or ethos of our times.


But on the other hand, we refuse to drop out either. We fulfil our vocation with responsibility and care and make our contribution to society as best we can. But we always do so with a profound sense of peace and contentment. We do not grasp at toil with two hands. Rather, we leave the other hand free, so that we may catch hold of God's peace. When we do this, we will achieve a proper perspective to our life, our work and our relationships.


In a culture that hails competitiveness as the highest virtue, we must learn once again the character of quiet contentment. This quality is movingly portrayed in the life of a country doctor in rural England in John Berger's book, A Fortunate Man. He has no claims to fame or notoriety, but chooses to work diligently, quietly and creatively as part of a community. He uses his skills in healing to help his patients, doing what he enjoys best, and asking no more. Well accepted and trusted by the community, he enjoys the friendships that it offers. With a profound sense of vocation, he unassumingly fulfils his role and has no desire whatsoever for wealth, status or power. There is a rugged simplicity and an untainted purity about his life that makes it very attractive.


Very few in our insatiable culture have this quality or know such contentment. But those who know such "quietness" are truly blessed. Those who know it are truly free.

Dr Roland Chia, Director of the Centre for the Development of Christian Ministry at Trinity Theological College, worships at Fairfield Preaching Point in Woodlands.