Acknowledgment
This piece is dedicated to another fabulous professor I studied under at Emory University’s Candler School of Theology. This person has played a tremendous role in both my theological education and personal journey.
Dr. Lauren Calvin-Cooke is my John Keating. One of the assignments in her class was literally to write and present a proverb or parable—already echoing a pivotal scene in Dead Poets Society. But Dr. Calvin-Cooke is also, in my eyes, a Qoheleth. A true teacher.
I did not meet her until my very last semester. She taught a class titled Teaching for Wisdom. I took the class because the first half dealt with Wisdom literature of the Hebrew Bible. And looking at the syllabus, I knew I was supposed to take this class. On February 12th, the anniversary of my mother’s passing, she would teach on Ecclesiastes, my mother’s favorite book and my niche focus.
This acknowledgement, itself, could be a full post. In just 4 months, Dr. Calvin-Cooke made a tremendous impact on my overall experience. I am deeply grateful for her guidance and mentorship, but more so, the unique love she holds for each of her students. Thank you, *Lauren!
Additionally, this post is an adaptation of my final project for her course. It was due a day or two after my final thesis submission. I did not get to revise it as much as I had wanted; as such, it is my hope that this version will achieve the polish I previously hoped for.
Lauren Calvin Cooke is a Visiting Assistant Professor in the Practice of Religious Education at Candler School of Theology. Like my advisor, Susan Hylen, she is a graduate of Princeton Theological Seminary (MDiv) and Emory University (PhD). To this student, however, she is not just brilliant; she is a healer.
Introduction: Ecclesiastes and Dead Poets Society
In the 1989 drama Dead Poets Society, Robin Williams’ character says,
“We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion.”
That is how I approach the Wisdom literature of the Hebrew Bible. Williams’ character, John Keating, especially resonates with my favorite Wisdom book, Ecclesiastes (or Qoheleth). Whether or not Ecclesiastes directly influenced the film, the resonance is hard for me to ignore.
The primary point of comparison is that carpe diem statements appear throughout both Ecclesiastes and Dead Poets Society. The phrase (literally meaning “pluck the day,” but more commonly, “seize the day”) is used explicitly by Williams’ character throughout the film. A Latin phrase, it certainly doesn’t appear in the Hebrew Qoheleth.
What does Hebel mean in Ecclesiastes?
But the later label need not appear for the sentiment to hypnotize the reader. Whether Qoheleth is a true pessimist is up for debate, but it is undeniable that Qoheleth displays some pessimistic traits. This too is hebel—and, also—a grievous ill? A great evil? An unhappy business? A chasing after wind, not just the wind itself? There is an element of frustration here.
If all is hebel—whether we take that to be vanity, futility, absurdity, etc.—then, well, what are we supposed to do? All toil and all skill are driven by envy, and are thus hebel (Ecc. 4:4). The same fate “befalls” the wise and the foolish (2:14). That too is hebel (2:15). God gives people wealth and possessions, but does not allow them to enjoy such gifts, which is not just hebel, but also a “grievous ill” (6:2). In the end, “all is hebel” (1:2; 12:8; cf. 3:19).
So Qoheleth is a cynic, right? If we accept the NIV/NLT’s translation of hebel as “meaninglessness,” then Qoheleth borders on nihilism. But few people are so simple to figure out, let alone a wisdom teacher from ancient Jerusalem. Qoheleth balances his frustrations with commands modern religions could use a stronger emphasis on: enjoy “your vain life” (9:9).
Eat, Drink, and Be Merry
Where does that famous phrase come from? Believe it or not—the Bible! This phrase, found in dining rooms and kitchens everywhere, is notably present in Ecclesiastes 8:15, one of the so-called carpe diem passages.
Let’s look at the full context:
“There is a [hebel] that takes place on earth, that there are righteous people who are treated according to the conduct of the wicked and wicked people who are treated according to the conduct of the righteous. I said that this also is [hebel]. So I commend enjoyment, for there is nothing better for people under the sun than to eat and drink and enjoy themselves, for this will go with them in their toil through the days of life that God gives them under the sun.” ~Ecc. 8:14–15, NRSVue.
As I have argued previously, “this too is hebel” is a sort of ancient equivalent of “this sucks.” My thesis does not focus on the optimistic side of Ecclesiastes; so, for this post, I will lightly consider it. The professor to whom this piece is dedicated, after reading my thesis, met with me to discuss my research. She asked:
“What—or who—is Qoheleth? Is he a pessimist or a preacher of joy?”
“Qoheleth is a… hebel. An absurdity. An enigma. Impossible to comprehend.” I answered, both jokingly and seriously.
If Qoheleth just “hated life” (2:17), he’d be a pessimist. If Qoheleth only said pleasure is “from the hand of God” (2:24), he’d be an optimist. But when Qoheleth issues both… he becomes, well, Qoheleth.
John Keating, Qoheleth, and the Gift of Enjoying Life
John Keating differs from Qoheleth in this regard, but that differentiation is nuanced. Keating never says “everything is meaningless.” I believe it’s pretty easy to agree that he’s quite the optimist. He wants people to enjoy their lives… but why? For him, life is short; life is fleeting. That is strikingly similar to an interpretation of Ecclesiastes put forth by scholars like Bart Ehrman… who does not specialize in Hebrew Bible. Sorry, Bart.
Under this framework, life is short and death is guaranteed. There isn’t anything inherently negative in literal “vapor.” It’s here one moment, gone the next. So too, Keating wants his students to enjoy each day as their last rather than let their lives be defined by the rigid structures of Welton Academy. If the more literal, “vapor” translation of hebel is used here, sure… an argument can be made that they are the same person in different centuries.
But this is where I find the two differ. Qoheleth presents a world in which God does not intervene in the course of human history. God does not stop oppression, does not stop the wicked from succeeding, and doesn’t even provide consolation to the sufferer (4:1). It is a bleak world, this hebel world. Qoheleth even commends death and/or non-existence over life itself (4:2–3; 7:1–2). It’s an endless tragedy.
So, what does one do? God won’t stop the madness, and earthly hierarchies cannot be trusted (5:8). For Qoheleth, the most rational response is to enjoy life as best as one can.
Sucking the Marrow… Does Not Include Choking on the Bone
Now, this is not a call to hedonism. Qoheleth isn’t saying “go make bad choices; it doesn’t matter.” For Qoheleth, there is a time for everything (3:1). Qoheleth is a moderate. As he commands elsewhere:
“Do not be too righteous, and do not act too wise; why should you destroy yourself? Do not be too wicked, and do not be a fool; why should you die before your time?” ~ Ecc. 7:16–17
Don’t be an extremist. It’s simple. Don’t be gluttonous, but also do not deny yourself the chance to enjoy life. After all, “In the day of prosperity, be joyful, and in the day of adversity, consider: God has made one as well as the other” (7:14). God is the maker of both the good days and the bad days. For Qoheleth, everything outside of how we respond to such days is beyond control.
It isn’t just about “sucking the marrow” for Qoheleth, like it famously is for Keating; it’s about making it last, but not letting it go to waste. As Keating reminds one insolent student, “Sucking the marrow out of life doesn’t mean choking on the bone.” We should not deprive ourselves of the gift of enjoying life, and we should not make our own pleasure our only destiny. It’s all we have; we should use it wisely.
Peter Enns, Ecclesiastes, and Resigned Joy?
Still, some read Qoheleth much more cynically than I do. Peter Enns, a prominent scholar of Ecclesiastes, says in an interview with Kurt Willems:
“Again, [Qoheleth] is resigning himself that life truly is senseless. So, there is nothing better than to have a beer or two and watch some football… There is not the slightest hint of encouragement in these carpe diem passages.”
As such, he argues, the carpe diem statements in Ecclesiastes couldn’t differ more from those of Dead Poets Society.
I disagree with Enns’ interpretation of Qoheleth here. It seems to push Qoheleth into a box of “well, what does it matter? We all die anyways.” Super goth, which is indeed attractive to a goth… but not a goth who is obsessed with Ecclesiastes. Like the NIV’s approach to hebel as meaninglessness, Enns’ advice frames Ecclesiastes as a work of existential nihilism. In that framework, life has no intrinsic value or meaning… again, I do not think that is what Qoheleth is suggesting.
“Go, eat your bread with enjoyment and drink your wine with a merry heart, for God has long ago approved what you do.” ~ Ecc. 9:7.
I do, however, think Ecclesiastes 9:7–10 shatters such an interpretation. Take verse 7, for instance. Qoheleth does not say “Go, eat your bread and drink your wine.” To remove the qualifiers in 9:7—”with enjoyment” and “with a merry heart”—would shatter the entire verse, grammatically and theologically. Qoheleth does not instruct the reader to live merely because living is the only available option. Rather, he urges the reader to receive life as a gift while it is still possible to receive it. This distinguishes his philosophy from the self-consuming fool in 4:5, who is so deeply invested in apathy and laziness that he begins to consume his own flesh.
Sheol and Worm Food: Death in Ecclesiastes and Dead Poets Society
In my interpretation, God’s non-intervention is not the sole reason for the carpe diem statements in Ecclesiastes. And in this regard, Keating and Qoheleth share some stronger similarities. They both understand that death is guaranteed, though its timing is never certain (9:11–12). Everyone who is born eventually dies. And what happens after that may be even worse.
In his first lesson, Keating walks his students to a trophy case. He shows them pictures of students of Welton from long ago. “Invincible, just like you feel. The world is their oyster,” he tells them. But in that very moment, where are these long-forgotten students? They are “fertilizing daffodils.” They are “worm food.”
And for Qoheleth, why should one eat their bread with enjoyment? Why enjoy life? Because “all go to one place” (3:20). Because “there is no work or thought or knowledge or wisdom in Sheol, to which you are going” (9:10). Spoken with such finality.
We might as well enjoy the life we have, for as far as we know with utter certainty, it is the only one we have. Next stop is the pit.
Keating: The Protagonist, Qoheleth: The Misfit
I believe Keating is the protagonist of Dead Poets Society. Some do not share this sentiment. There is much debate about whether Keating is responsible for the suicide of one of his students, Neil, at the end of the film. I deeply reject such a notion.
Neil has an abusive father. Neil wants to pursue his dreams, but his father wants him to follow in his rigid footsteps. The problem is not that Keating turns Neil into a rebellious dissenter; it’s that Neil is expected to repress his identity to please a rigid hierarchy. Keating teaches Neil to follow his dream, but his father forces him into a box. Neil does not take his life because of a hippy teacher; he takes his life because his only “support system” is holding his neck to the ground. He is not allowed to breathe, or live, without the express approval of an authority figure. And some think Keating is the villain?
Rory Shiner and the Anxiety of Fundamentalism
Rory Shiner, writing for The Gospel Coalition, holds a particular resentment for the famous scene in which Keating instructs his students to rip out pages of a textbook. Shiner argues that the sight of students destroying a text “ought to strike terror into the heart of anyone who remembers the darker moments of the twentieth century.” But Keating is not burning books, nor is he teaching anti-intellectualism. He is asking his students to reject a deadened way of reading that mistakes measurement for encounter. He is asking them not to analyze poetry, but to inhabit it.
This matters because Shiner’s critique risks reproducing the very structure the film is warning against. It centers the anxiety of institutional order while minimizing the suffering of the student crushed beneath that order. From the perspective of someone like Neil, the danger is not that Keating teaches young men to think, feel, and live for themselves. The danger is that no one else does. Keating is threatening only if one assumes that submission to inherited scripts is always safer than the terrifying work of becoming a person.
The Failure of Rigid Systems
Furthermore, Shiner neglects the Wisdom literature, particularly Ecclesiastes. Such literature functions as the ultimate iconoclast of rigid structures. Qoheleth does not preserve tradition for its own sake; he interrogates it. He looks at the world and sees oppression, injustice, toil, death, and silence, and declares it all hebel. For the Teacher in Jerusalem, the “proper” system has already failed. There is no long game of education, achievement, or obedience that can finally protect anyone from Sheol.
After all, “Of making many books there is no end, and much study is a weariness of the flesh” (12:12). What gain is there in toiling in endless readings and tests, without a moment to enjoy life? I will tell you—absolutely none.
One of Qoheleth’s defining characteristics is that he vehemently challenges conventional wisdom. That is, wisdom that is accepted by the majority and always leaves guaranteed results, such as “the customer is already right.” Or even in the Bible itself: “Be assured that the wicked will not go unpunished, but those who are righteous will go free,” Proverbs 11:21 says. Qoheleth’s response?
“In my vain life I have seen everything; there are righteous people who perish in their righteousness, and there are wicked people who prolong their life in their evildoing.” ~ Ecc. 7:15.
There is no reason to “resign” oneself to rigid structures or logic that, according to empirical evidence, are baseless.
Conclusion: The End of the Matter
It amazes me that I cannot find one (scholarly) source on Ecclesiastes and Dead Poets Society. It further amazes me that Keating himself never quoted the Teacher. But Qoheleth’s words have survived over two millennia, and they have profoundly impacted numerous thinkers, artists, leaders, and more. I do not believe a fictional teacher, portrayed by a tragic and beloved comedian, is excluded.
Eat, drink, and be merry. That is the message, I find, both figures make. Their intentions may differ significantly, but it is certainly a worthy point of comparison. They are not one and the same; but what joy would there be in that? They both acknowledge that tomorrow is never guaranteed. As such, one should not waste away in misery, like the self-consuming fool (4:5).
When Keating stands on his desk and when Qoheleth commends enjoyment, they are both calling out from the assembly, inviting the disillusioned to suck the marrow out of life before they reach the “one place.” In a world where we are all, eventually, worm food, joy is not denial. It is defiance. It is protest.