Spiritual Hiccups - What's the point?

I'm not sure why, but I've decided to call my thoughts on the lectionary readings "Spiritual hiccups." I suppose that's closer to what they really are, things that pop up after I've looked at the readings for the day.

Today, when I read the Old Testament passage from Ecclesiastes, I was struck by how difficult it can be to fit these verses into conventional Christian notions of going to heaven because you (a) lived a good life, (b) believed the right things, or (c) did some combination of both. The writer goes on about how all people, both the good and the bad, meet the same end, and reaches the following conclusion:

Go, eat your bread with enjoyment, and drink your wine with a merry heart; for God has long ago approved what you do. Let your garments always be white; do not let oil be lacking on your head. Enjoy life with the wife whom you love, all the days of your vain life that are given you under the sun, because that is your portion in life and in your toil at which you toil under the sun. Whatever your hand finds to do, do with your might; for there is no work or thought or knowledge or wisdom in Sheol, to which you are going.

(I should note that Sheol is not the same as heaven or hell. There is no punishment or reward there. It's mostly a metaphor for death, but in so much as it is understood as a place or condition, it speaks of a murky, almost non-existence.)

If nothing else, verses such as this should make it obvious that the Bible is more of a conversation than it is an encyclopedia. And the conversation sounds very different at different points in history, when people have come to different conclusions about God and life with God.

Also clear is how people of deep faith have long wrestled with questions of meaning and purpose, have struggled to understand what the point of it all is.

I've said this before, but I think Christian faith, at least the faith I grew up with in the Presbyterian Church, has become far too settled. We've claimed the Bible and our theology as a definitive encyclopedia containing all the answers to all the questions. But such a view doesn't leave a lot of room to ask new questions or to question old answers.

What is the point of it all? And if someone genuinely asks us this question, can we really engage them in a conversation, or can we just give canned answers? And if the Bible is itself a faith conversation, shouldn't we who claim a biblical faith want to join that conversation, and invite others to share in the discussion?

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