Ecclesiastes Talk 3. Wisdom, Intelligence, and Virtue

We’ve noted that the Preacher seems to doubt that wisdom and knowledge are enough to give life meaning. He said:

“For in much wisdom is much grief: and he that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow.” (Ecclesiastes 1:18)

We then turned to the famous poem of Ecclesiastes 3:

“To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.” (Ecclesiastes 3:1)

We noted in particular that the eternity set in the hearts of human beings (Ecclesiastes 3:11) seemed to ameliorate but not resolve his doubt about wisdom and the meaning of life, and we contrasted his acceptance of the possibility of meaning with the certainty of meaning and the transformative vision of Jesus and the Kingdom of God.

Today, more people can read and more people can attend universities than ever before. Vast libraries of information sit in our pockets. ChatGPT and Claude and other AI entities answer questions in seconds that once required weeks, months, and even years of study. Our knowledge has increased by leaps and bounds and is accelerating. 

The question I want us to consider this week is this: Shouldn’t our wisdom be keeping pace with the knowledge generated by AI—and is it? You might also like to consider whether our grief and sorrow is mounting as AI gets smarter and produces  even more knowledge, as Ecclesiastes might have predicted if he were here today? 

For sure, we continue to struggle with questions of justice, purpose, happiness, character, and meaning. We know so much more than our ancestors, but with all due respect, it seems to me that none of us is the least bit wiser than Socrates or Solomon. 

The Preacher seems less interested in promoting wisdom than he is in investigating it. He asks what wisdom can accomplish—and what it cannot. He certainly respects it:

“Wisdom strengtheneth the wise more than ten mighty men which are in the city.” (Ecclesiastes 7:19)

And again:

“Wisdom is better than weapons of war.” (Ecclesiastes 9:18)

And by the end of his investigation the Preacher concludes that wisdom is real, valuable, and better than folly—but still is not, by itself, enough to satisfy our need to understand the meaning of life.

The seventh chapter contains many of the book’s most memorable observations about wisdom. Some are surprising. Some are unsettling. Several seem almost paradoxical; nevertheless, we are to assume that they are wise observations:

“A good name is better than precious ointment; and the day of death [is better] than the day of one’s birth.

It is better to go to the house of mourning, than to go to the house of feasting: for that is the end of all men; and the living will lay it to his heart.

Sorrow is better than laughter: for by the sadness of the countenance the heart is made better.” (Ecclesiastes 7:1–3)

We might associate wisdom with happiness, success, and positive thinking; but the Preacher doesn’t. He suggests that wisdom often emerges not from comfort but from confrontation with reality. Funerals reflect the stark reality of death, so teach us more than the frivolity of banquets. Tragedy, which is inherently heavy, teaches us more than comedy, which is inherently light. The point is not that mourning and tragedy are inherently desirable, but rather that wisdom grows when we face such conditions of human existence without looking away. Or as the Preacher puts it:

“The heart of the wise is in the house of mourning; but the heart of fools is in the house of mirth.” (Ecclesiastes 7:4)

The wise person does not seek misery. But neither does the wise person avoid unpleasant truths. Wisdom requires a willingness to look at reality as it is, not merely as we wish it to be.

Throughout the chapter the Preacher repeatedly contrasts wisdom and folly. His verdict is never in doubt:

“For wisdom is a defence, and money is a defence: but the excellency of knowledge is, that wisdom giveth life to them that have it.” (Ecclesiastes 7:12)

And as we’ve just noted:

“Wisdom strengtheneth the wise more than ten mighty men which are in the city.” (Ecclesiastes 7:19)

The Preacher values wisdom because it provides perspective, resilience, and a measure of protection against life’s confusions and temptations. Yet even in these affirmations there are hints that something still troubles him. Unlike Proverbs, which presents wisdom as the path to a well-ordered life, Ecclesiastes continually encounters contradictions: Wise people suffer while foolish people prosper. Wise choices do not always produce good outcomes.

The Preacher can’t deny the value of wisdom, because his experience continually confirms it, but neither can he claim that wisdom solves all of life’s problems, because experience continually contradicts that conclusion. This, it seems to me, is the tension that lies at the heart of Ecclesiastes. The Preacher loves wisdom too much to abandon it, but he is too honest to exaggerate its power, and that honesty leads him to a remarkable confession:

“All this have I proved by wisdom: I said, I will be wise; but it was far from me.” (Ecclesiastes 7:23)

His admission is both humbling and unsettling. The very wisdom he valued so highly turned out to have limits. He continues:

“That which is far off, and exceeding deep, who can find it out?

I applied mine heart to know, and to search, and to seek out wisdom, and the reason of things…” (Ecclesiastes 7:24–25)

There is something poignant in these verses. The Preacher is not a lazy person who has given up too easily. He has devoted heart and soul to understanding. He has pursued wisdom deliberately and systematically. He has examined life from every angle available to him. Yet after all his searching he discovers that it remains beyond his grasp.

“I said, I will be wise; but it was far from me.”

Perhaps every thoughtful person eventually reaches this point. When we are young, knowledge often appears limitless. We imagine that with enough study, enough intelligence, and enough experience we will eventually find answers to all the important questions. As the years pass, we discover the opposite. The more we learn, the more we become aware of how little we know. 

The quest for wisdom through knowledge does not eliminate mystery. But what it does do is: It deepens our awareness of it.

Ecclesiastes teaches that we are limited creatures trying to understand a reality that far exceeds our capability to understand. We long for ultimate understanding, yet even with eternity in our hearts, it eludes us. We sense that there is meaning, but we cannot see it. The Preacher said:

“Then I beheld all the work of God, that a man cannot find out the work that is done under the sun: because though a man labour to seek it out, yet he shall not find it; yea further; though a wise man think to know it, yet shall he not be able to find it.” (Ecclesiastes 8:17)

Wisdom may take us a long way in our search for meaning, but it cannot take us all the way. Even so, it is not worthless. The Preacher eschews ignorance. He does not abandon the search for meaning, but he learns to do so with humility. The truly wise person does not claim to have all the answers, but understands the difference between what can be known and what can’t. Wisdom involves the recognition and acceptance of limits.

This may be one reason Ecclesiastes has remained relevant for so many centuries. Every generation expands the boundaries of knowledge. Every generation discovers new mysteries beyond those boundaries. The pursuit of wisdom remains worthwhile. But wisdom and knowledge do not abolish mystery.

Even if wisdom can’t explain everything, perhaps it can at least help us navigate life under the sun successfully even in the presence of mystery. But as the Preacher continued his observations, he found that life under the sun does not always reward wisdom—that life is not always fair.

Most of us want to believe in cause and effect. Wisdom should lead to success, good judgment should be rewarded, and foolishness should get what it deserves. It seems true that wise decisions generally produce better outcomes than foolish ones, does it not? Well, asks the Preacher, so what?

For all this I considered in my heart even to declare all this, that the righteous, and the wise, and their works, are in the hand of God: no man knoweth either love or hatred by all that is before them.

All things come alike to all: there is one event to the righteous, and to the wicked; to the good and to the clean, and to the unclean…” (Ecclesiastes 9:1–2)

The “one event” is death. The wise, the foolish, the righteous, the wicked… they all die. Whatever distinctions exist during life, mortality eventually overtakes everyone.

For that which befalleth the sons of men befalleth beasts; even one thing befalleth them: as the one dieth, so dieth the other…

All go unto one place; all are of the dust, and all turn to dust again. (Ecclesiastes 3:19–20)

And again:

How dieth the wise man? as the fool. (Ecclesiastes 2:16)

These stark passages remind us why Ecclesiastes tends to be regarded as the most skeptical book in the Bible. The Preacher refuses to look away from the reality that many of us would prefer to ignore. 

Yet mortality is only part of the problem. Even in the springtime of life, when our mortality is furthest from our minds, outcomes often fail to correspond neatly with merit. In words as recognizable and meaningful today as they were nearly three thousand years ago, the Preacher says:

I returned, and saw under the sun, that the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, neither yet bread to the wise, nor yet riches to men of understanding, nor yet favour to men of skill; but time and chance happeneth to them all. (Ecclesiastes 9:11)

While not denying the value of speed, strength, wisdom, skill, or understanding, the Preacher rejects the illusion that these qualities guarantee success. This insight is uncomfortable because it conflicts with our deeply rooted instinct. We expect the universe to operate according to clear and predictable rules of cause and effect. We expect the swift to win the race, and the strong to win the battle.

The Preacher thus finds himself caught between two truths. On the one hand, wisdom improves judgment, provides perspective, and helps us navigate life more effectively. On the other hand, it does not place us beyond the reach of chance, misfortune, mortality, or mystery. This tension is captured in a story that concludes the ninth chapter, in which a small city besieged by a powerful king is saved by the wisdom of a poor man:

There was found in it a poor wise man, and he by his wisdom delivered the city; yet no man remembered that same poor man. (Ecclesiastes 9:15)

So wisdom…

… is better than strength. (Ecclesiastes 9:16)

It does not guarantee recognition, reward, remembrance, success, justice, or happiness, but it is better than any alternative. It remains worth pursuing even in a world where its outcomes are uncertain. That is a mature and uncynical conclusion, but it raises several important questions. 

If wisdom is valuable but does not ensure good outcomes, what exactly is it for? If intelligence, knowledge, skill, and wisdom all have limits, why do we place such confidence in them? Ecclesiastes uses these terms interchangeably, but today we differentiate them. Intelligence can be measured, up to a point, through examinations, degrees, technical skill, memory, analytical ability, and the capacity to solve complex problems. Wisdom is more elusive. It has less to do with what a person knows than with what a person understands. It is revealed less by the ability to answer questions than by the ability to ask them. Intelligence analyzes. Wisdom discerns. Intelligence helps us understand how things work. Wisdom helps us understand why they work and what they mean.

Many years ago, I belonged to a somewhat elitist group of well-educated young adults. We were ambitious, intellectually curious, and more than a little full of ourselves. We were James Bonds in training. Our institution employed an older porter—a kind of caretaker in the traditional English sense—who had little formal education but a great deal of practical understanding of human nature.

He called us, fondly, his “intelligent idiots.” We laughed, but we loved and respected him, and the phrase stayed with me. What he knew, and we did not, was that intelligence and wisdom are not the same thing. A person can be brilliant and still make disastrous decisions. A person can possess enormous knowledge but display very bad judgment. History offers countless examples.

The Preacher understood this distinction long before psychologists, philosophers, or management consultants began discussing it. Much of Ecclesiastes can be read as a warning against confusing intelligence with wisdom. The Preacher repeatedly acknowledges the value of knowledge and understanding. Yet he also observes that knowledge alone does not answer life’s deepest questions.

One reason is that intelligence and wisdom operate in different domains. Intelligence is concerned primarily with facts. Wisdom is concerned primarily with concepts. Intelligence asks: What is true? Wisdom asks: What does it mean? Intelligence asks: What can be done? Wisdom asks: What ought to be done (in a pragmatic—not necessarily moral—sense)? Intelligence builds tools. Wisdom determines how tools should be used.

The distinction becomes clearer when we consider some of humanity’s greatest achievements. Science has given us antibiotics, aviation, computers, and space travel. Yet the same scientific knowledge has also contributed to chemical warfare, nuclear weapons, and other sophisticated means of destruction.

The problem is not intelligence. The problem is that intelligence alone cannot tell us what goals are worth pursuing. Throughout Ecclesiastes the Preacher encounters individuals who, like him, possess wealth, power, knowledge, and skill, yet still struggle to discover meaning. Modern society is focused intensely on increasing knowledge through better science, better technology, better education, and better information. These are assumed to be the primary solutions to human problems.

We can communicate instantly across continents. We can sequence genomes. We can create machines capable of performing intellectual tasks that once seemed uniquely human. But at last, today we seem to be coming out of our technology thrall and getting back to those fundamental questions about how power should be exercised, what we owe one another, what kind of society we want, what constitutes a life well lived. These are not engineering problems. They are wisdom problems. Increasingly, there is recognition that intelligence, by itself, is insufficient to answer them. The crucial question is no longer merely how much we know, but what we choose to do with what we know. 

If there is something beyond wisdom, perhaps it is good old-fashioned virtue. The qualities we most admire in people are rarely intellectual. It is their honesty, kindness, courage, generosity, faithfulness, humility, and integrity. We hope for intelligence and success in our children, but what we want to see most in them is character. We want those we love to become good people. Intelligence determines what they can do. Wisdom determines what they choose to do. Virtue determines their underlying character. A person may be intelligent without being wise. A person may be wise but lack virtue. The highest ideal is the integration of all three.

The Preacher, it seems to me, is gradually leading us toward this realization. He examines knowledge and wisdom and finds genuine value in them, but also limitations. Neither intelligence nor wisdom alone can bear the full weight of human existence. Something more is required.

The Preacher does not fully develop this idea. He is more effective (and more wise) in exposing inadequate answers than supplying complete ones, so the question remains: If intelligence is not enough, and if wisdom is not enough, then what qualities ultimately guide a meaningful life under the sun? The search for an answer to that question is bound to lead us beyond knowledge and even beyond wisdom toward questions of character, purpose, and the kind of people we are becoming.

As artificial intelligence systems become increasingly capable, technology companies, universities, and governments have begun seeking guidance not only from engineers and computer scientists but also from philosophers, ethicists, theologians, historians, and students of human behavior.

The realization is dawning that intelligence and wisdom are not the same thing. A machine may be able to answer a question but may not know whether the question is worth asking. A system may be able to optimize a process but not understand the purpose of the process. An intelligence may become extraordinarily powerful, but that does not make it wise.

The Preacher recognized, of course, that this is true of human beings. The problem he encountered was not a lack of intelligence. It was the inability of both intelligence and worldly wisdom, by themselves, to answer the deepest questions of existence. Indeed, greater intelligence often makes those questions more pressing rather than less. This is why the discussion leads us to virtue. If you were asked to select the leader of a nation, the CEO of a hospital, the pilot of an aircraft, or the designer of a powerful artificial intelligence system, the candidates’ intelligence, knowledge, and experience would matter. But would we choose a brilliant candidate who lacked honesty, integrity, good judgment, compassion, humility, and a sense of responsibility toward others? (On second thoughts, I withdraw the question.)

The Preacher may not have used the language of artificial intelligence, biotechnology, or advanced civilization, but he understood the underlying issue. Human beings possess remarkable capacities, yet those capacities do not tell us how to live. As individuals, institutions, and technologies acquire greater power, the ancient questions of wisdom literature become increasingly relevant. What is worth pursuing? What is worth loving? What is worth sacrificing for? What kind of people should we become? These are not technical questions. They are questions of not just wisdom but also, ultimately, of character.

I’ll end by repeating the questions I asked near the beginning: 

Shouldn’t our wisdom be keeping pace with the knowledge generated by AI-and is it doing so? 

And: 

As AI gets smarter and produces  even more knowledge, is our grief and sorrow mounting, as Ecclesiastes would seem to predict? 

Donald: While David was speaking, I asked AI to make a chart comparing and contrasting the terms answer, knowledge, and wisdom. It was pretty remarkable in terms of providing a quick answer that would take a long time to create if you were pondering it yourself. Across the top, the chart had the categories aspect, answer, knowledge, and wisdom. The basic meaning of an answer was simply a response to a question or problem. Knowledge was facts and information acquired through learning or experience, and wisdom was the ability to use knowledge with sound judgment and discernment.

You can see the progression: solving the problem, knowing the truth, and knowing what is right and best. Certainly, foundationally, to have wisdom you must have some sense of answers, but this was a progressive chart, and it supported exactly what I think David introduced this morning: resolve a question, increase understanding, and live and act well. The example was: the train leaves at 10:30; knowledge is understanding how the rail system works; wisdom is choosing the best time to travel based on the weather and so forth. Since we are traveling, that is probably why it gave me that example.

Then I asked it for a simple way to remember the distinction. It said answers are what; knowledge is how and why; and wisdom is whether and when. I thought that was great. From a biblical perspective, knowledge fills the mind, wisdom shapes the heart, and answers are often the result of applying these foundational pieces.

Then I went on and asked, “If wisdom seems ultimately to be what humans strive for, what would be the next column?” The way it extended the chart was: answers, knowledge, wisdom, love, and Christlike character. The questions became: How shall I live toward God and others? How do I become the kind of person God intends? I thought that was very, very interesting—that the fourth column it would add after wisdom is love, which supports everything David said.

Don: I’m wondering whether Ecclesiastes gives us a definition of wisdom.

David: I don’t recall that it does. I’ve inferred his definition of it, but he seems to conflate worldly wisdom with intelligence and other things. I’m going to get to that in my next talks. I think we arrive at a different form of wisdom—an otherworldly wisdom, if you like—which I’ll be talking about. But I’d be preempting my next talks if I talked about it now.

Anonymous: I was thinking, since you started speaking about the two different kinds of wisdom, that the wisdom Solomon is talking about is the kind of wisdom that brings sorrow and vexation of spirit. That is definitely not the wisdom the Bible speaks about, which brings a lot of better things and begins with the fear of God and the understanding of the Holy One.

So my question is this: if Solomon is recommending this kind of wisdom, the worldly wisdom, with all its doubts, sorrow, grief, and all of that, how do we get it? What is the source of this kind of wisdom? How can I be wise for this world, at least, even though it is going to bring me sorrow?

David: His answer seems to be that you need to face life as it is—not running away from it, and not trying to avoid it by going out for a nice meal and forgetting all your troubles. That will make you wise and provide some measure of an answer to the meaning of life. That’s how I read it.

But don’t you all think that Ecclesiastes really is an extraordinary book in the Bible? I don’t think my interpretation of it is especially far out. It might be a bit different from some other interpretations, but I don’t think I’m wildly out of whack with what he is saying. What he is saying is indeed deeply odd, yet it is also deeply attractive.

Don: Were you surprised to find meaning that is relevant today in the Book of Ecclesiastes?

David: Yes, and not just a surprise, but a delight in a way, because modern society is struggling with what the heck is going on in the world today—AI, global warming, corruption in politics, and so on and so forth. We are at a loss, and then we turn back to Ecclesiastes and find that this guy has been there and done that, and he is helping us by pointing us toward something that perhaps we tend to forget. So I think it is an extremely valuable book in the Bible, although I also think it is very hard to take in some ways.

Sharon: I’ve been thinking about this verse: “For in much wisdom is much grief: and he that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow.” I can understand the possibility that wisdom is well integrated with a deepening experience of sorrow. I think the more we have lived, and the more we experience life, the more depth we have to that human experience.

If ignorance is bliss, when a person is simple and unaware, obviously that person has less pain about the injustices, complexities, and suffering of the world. But the more wisdom we have, the more in tune we are to see the flaws and the depth of those problems. Greater wisdom could also bring more sympathy and more empathy into our existence, because we have a deeper understanding of the pain humanity is suffering. It could turn us a bit melancholy because we feel powerless to make changes.

The nineteenth-century philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer argued that as intellect and consciousness evolved, the capacity for suffering increased. He suggested that true insight reveals the relentless striving, friction, and ultimately tragic nature of existence. From this perspective, wisdom strips away our comforting self-deceptions, our denial, and our coping mechanisms, and leaves us with the naked reality of life.

This has opened new ideas to me today—that sorrow itself can be a catalyst for depth of living experience and can bring more meaning to us. I think the challenge we have in this day and age is to let that depth surround us without overwhelming us. With the increased suicides that we see and the increased mental illness that we see, is all of that part of our increased knowledge? Is our wisdom and understanding actually causing us to hurt?

I think that is where AI could be creating some challenges for us, because it adds new pressures and all kinds of deeper meanings to things than I was used to finding. This week I have been using AI on assignments. I can put in a simple prompt and come out with something that, earlier in my career, would have taken me three or four days to produce as a PowerPoint presentation.

I think there is a balance between the fact that all of this can be quite overwhelming and the need to make sure that the deeper knowledge we have does not overwhelm us or make us extremely melancholy, to the point where we actually have trouble coping with the level of pressure we feel from the new understanding.

David: There is, of course, another way too, which I was thinking about talking about but decided not to, and that is the Daoist way, which is to ignore all of this and simply go with the flow. It is reminiscent of “ignorance is bliss.” But I also think Ecclesiastes is, in a sense, saying something like that. With much knowledge comes much sorrow, so why go looking for it? Why not just let it be? Don’t worry about it. This is not necessarily bliss, but at least you are not worried all the time.

Anonymous: The earthly wisdom Solomon is talking about could have a great role because, according to him, it can lead us to the real wisdom—to God. Otherwise, we would be lost and would not even know where this road has taken us. But when we reach the real wisdom after passing through worldly wisdom, that would be something more. I don’t know whether I can say it is inherited by us or given to us. It was certainly given to Solomon.

We begin with worldly wisdom, and if we have that kind of wisdom, it may lead us to God. That is the ultimate goal.

C-J: I’m thinking about how the brain works and about the chemicals that are released when we experience life. At the different levels we experience as children, we interpret our environment in one way. Then, as professionals, as educated people, and as people with different degrees of understanding, power, and authority over our environment, that interpretation changes.

I think part of the anxiety is that all of this is happening so quickly, regardless of the tool or the means. It could be war. It could be sickness. We do not have time to recover. Our brains do not have enough time for those chemicals to be restored to their natural, intended balance. When that happens, our bodies are out of sync.

Intuitively, we often say, “I’m just exhausted. I’m going to take a nap,” or “I need to take a walk,” or “I think I’ll distract myself and take a long shower or read a book,” because we know intuitively that our brains need to recover.

I think we are in a very difficult place culturally in terms of letting a machine do the heavy lifting. I find it insulting when someone is clearly sending me a beautifully crafted communication and I know that three-fourths of it has been produced by a machine. It may be better than what the person would have written if they had taken the time to do it themselves, but time is something we do not give back. It does not have to be a heavy lift. What matters is that the person is saying, “I am pouring myself out to you because I value you.”

That machine does not care. It generates information, collates it, summarizes it, and makes it look beautiful. Then the person says, “Oh, I’m so glad that’s done,” and moves on. But when I receive it and can tell that it has been scripted, it makes me angry. It really does. I think, “Did I interrupt your life? If this is how much you value the relationship, I’m not interested.”

When I read the Bible, I do not feel that way. When I read the Bible, I want to drink it in. I want to reflect. I do not want to feel pressured to respond. I want simply to pause and let it heal my brain and my spirit.

That is the danger of AI. We are not doing the lifting. We are becoming more and more lazy and addicted to bright lights and quick movement, without having to do anything more than decide which button to push next or what we want something to look like. We are dumbing down the higher-order executive function of our brains because we do not need it anymore. The machine will do it for us. It has more information. It has library upon library of content that I do not have access to.

It is a very dangerous kind of suicide for humanity because you cannot simply separate the spiritual from the real needs of life. I am not opposed to AI in terms of fact-checking, checking information, or staying current. But if we took our eyes off the iPad or whatever screen we are looking at, we would know intuitively that some of this simply cannot be right.

I do not need the statistics about how many missiles went into Palestine. It is a hot mess, and will it affect me? It already does. The mechanisms of leadership are there, but we are not activating them. The mechanisms for accountability, removal, and checks and balances are there, but we are not using them. That is true globally and in our classrooms. We are not asking people to substantiate what they are putting into the basket. Why do you believe that? We are not asking those hard questions or expecting personal accountability, and that is a major problem.

That, I believe, Sharon, is where the disconnect is. The work is done. The task is done. “Oh, it saved me all that time.” But the value of humanity is not just incrementally being discounted; it is being hugely discounted. We do not need that. We do not need it anymore.

The problem is that the machine is going to consume all the power it can get and then want more. It is also going to take our water, our attention, and our future because we keep saying, “Well, it can do it better.”

Woe be unto us. To whom much is given, much is required, and we are accountable as a collective whole. We have to remember that this organism we call the body is finite. The spiritual world is eternal. That is a very different paradigm.

Put your trust in God. Humanity will disappoint you. Yet we live here, and we have power and authority over the earth. If I remember the verse correctly, we were given dominion over all the earth. But that must stand alongside the goodness of God and the grace of God. We are not doing that.

Reinhard: What Connie mentioned about the brain is important. We have a limited number of brain cells, but there is an enormous amount of information out there. We need to decide which information to absorb. First, we need to know what to believe, and then we need to act upon the information we receive.

I think intelligence belongs under the broader term knowledge. Knowledge includes everything. Intelligence, to me, is like a one-way road. Humanity tries to build something through technology. We have AI now, and people are trying to discover new frontiers in technology and in space. That is the intelligence of human beings.

Wisdom, on the other hand, is the knowledge and discernment needed to determine what is good for us and for others. Intelligence, I think, has almost nothing to do with morality and ethics. There are laws being put in place to limit some uses of technology, but wisdom goes hand in hand with ethics and morality. To act upon something wisely means using good judgment.

When we combine wisdom with our knowledge of spirituality and God, we can arrive at the right decision, whether for ourselves, our families, or others. That is the difference between wisdom and intelligence.

The more we know, the more we realize we do not know. I think that is true. The word discernment is very important. I do not know whether someone who is very religious always applies discernment when using technology, but there is so much information and so little time. Sometimes we rush to decide what to believe.

Paul says in 1 Corinthians 8:1 that knowledge puffs up, but love builds up. In 1 Corinthians 13 he says that we can have all this knowledge, but if we do not have love, it means nothing. So, as Christians, if we apply love to everything we know and to all the decisions we make, then life can be beautiful.

The Bible also says that wealth without knowledge, or riches without understanding, can be like an animal that perishes. In terms of our limitations, our physical bodies have limits, but we also have a spiritual life. Paul speaks about renewing our minds and about spiritual growth. Our bodies will stop someday. We can exercise, eat the right food, sleep, and do the right things, but the physical body still has limits.

Our souls and our spiritual lives, however, continue. We are going to have a new body someday. God teaches us to keep our spiritual minds above all our knowledge, renewing our minds through the Word of God. When we relate what we know to God’s commandments and to what Scripture says, that is how we can move forward in this world.

Someday our bodies will reach the end of life, but if our minds are close to God and we believe that life continues, then we do not have to worry about the future. We can have joy in the Lord. No matter how long we live in this world, if we hold to that principle and remain close to God, we do not have to fear what we will face.

Donald: Right now it is summer graduation here. In relation to this conversation, I thought about what summer graduation actually is. Students walk across the platform and receive a degree or diploma. What does that diploma represent? The diploma represents the accumulation and totality of a certain set of pieces of knowledge, recorded in a transcript. We say, “You have now earned your diploma.” I would not suggest that classes are filled only with knowledge. I think they are also filled with wisdom and, in some places, discussions of character. But that is not really what is shown on the transcript.

What is shown on the transcript is that you took this class, this class, this class, and this class. When you take enough credits in the right combination, you earn a diploma. I know that for a number of years, at a faith-based and character-building institution, there was an effort to put character on the transcript. It never gained traction. I do not know whether that was because character was too difficult to measure, but the idea never gained traction.

I think that is interesting when you think about parents and young children. During the first six or seven years of a child’s life, there is certainly a lot of knowledge being acquired, but character seems to be the primary thing being built. Then you send your child off to school to gain knowledge.

So my point is that for twelve years, plus at least four more, we accumulate credits representing the classes that were taken. I know that I loved classes where, in a fifty-minute session, I could spend the first thirty minutes introducing ideas, answers, and knowledge, and then use the last twenty minutes to apply them to life and to one another. That was an integrated approach, I suppose, although it did not happen in every class.

I just think it is interesting that what we primarily measure is knowledge. We hope character is being integrated along the way.

C-J: This past week I took a long walk through downtown Rochester, looking at all the historical buildings that are being renovated. I walked into one building and thought, Wow, this has really been transformed. In the center was this huge bar. It was noon, and people were gathered around it drinking and eating lunch.

I stopped and started talking with the fellow at the entrance. He might have been called a greeter, but he looked more like a bouncer—a big guy who looked as though he should have been in the Marines. We started talking about all the different businesses in the building. It is thirteen stories high and completely occupied. I said, “Boy, they have really transformed this place.”

Eventually we started talking about the influence of AI and the kinds of businesses in the building, everything from pizza to dentistry to corporate offices. He kept coming back to the same conclusion: “The technology is too big to fail. The money involved is too big to fail.”

I asked him, “What happens when they pull the plug?”

He said again, “Too big to fail.”

I asked, “Oh, so you have a generator? What happens when that doesn’t work? What happens when the amount of power required exceeds what it can provide? Solar panels on the roof—do you think that will be enough?” He just kept saying, “Too big to fail.”

I was ready to tell him that HSBC Bank thought it was too big to fail as a global financial institution, but it failed. It was broken up, and you do not see it the way you used to. It was pretty big for about thirty years.

I want to come back to this idea of “too big to fail,” not just in terms of technology today. Personally, I would not want to live on the moon, even if it were considered a privilege or a once-in-a-lifetime experience. I would not want to be put into suspended animation to travel to Mars. I am actually pretty happy here. Even though I experience pain at times, there is a kind of richness in that, as Ecclesiastes alludes to.

When we stop recognizing how God valued us in His creation and what His intention was for us, we lose something important. His purpose was not simply that we worship Him. He had angels to do that, if angels are in fact what Scripture says they are. Rather, He gave us something of what He has—the ability to create—but always with accountability.

Donald mentioned character. On a DD-214, the military discharge paper, there is a place for conduct. Good conduct has great value in the military. There are different levels of trust that are reflected in the responsibilities you are given and in your ability to make broad but thoughtful assessments. Who will this affect? How will it affect them?

Character is woven throughout great literature, including the Bible. I think we are accountable. We are accountable to one another. As David said, you can be very smart and still be an idiot. You can have all the potential in the world, but you still have to grow into those boots.

That is why good teachers are so highly respected. They do what Donald described. They do what Solomon did. They ask questions. The Stoics also learned through questioning. They encouraged higher-order thinking and gave people opportunities to practice it. What are we doing? Why are we doing it? How could you have done it differently? Here is another element to add—how will you incorporate that?

What do you do with someone you simply do not like? Do you move away? Find another job? No. You have to make adjustments. You have to learn to see that other person from where they are sitting. Where did they come from? What made them the way they are? How can I be a better ambassador? How can I be a better representative?

At the end of the day, as you put your head on the pillow, you should be able to ask, “What could I have done better? Did I use the hours I was given today as well as I could have?” There is accountability in life. There is a record, not only with God but with everyone who knows us.

Someone mentioned earlier the person who was famous but whose funeral nobody attended, and another person who was almost invisible, yet people came from everywhere to that funeral because of the impact that quiet, kind, faithful person had made. That person never had medals or titles, but everyone knew them. They volunteered. They had good moral character. Perhaps all of that was simply learned around the family table. Maybe they never had much formal education. But if they needed help, people never hesitated. “I’m going that way. Do you want to come? Is there anything you need?”

That is what you cannot get from AI. That network of relationships, that knitting together, that tapestry in which every single piece has a purpose and an intention—that is what God created. I do not want to become wedded to AI because I know it will fail. Whenever humanity ultimately puts its trust in its own hands, we fail.

Carolyn: I just want to say thank you. I am still contemplating all of this. I have read Ecclesiastes before, but now I need to think about it again and ask how the Lord wants to use me. This discussion has raised a great many questions for me.

David: I do want to push back a little on the assumption that letting technology do our heavy lifting is necessarily a mistake. It is something we have always done. In fact, we are doing it right now.

We are meeting on Zoom when we all could have picked up our walking sticks, walked to Detroit, gone to the church, and met together in person. Arguably, that would have been a richer and more meaningful meeting. But here we are, letting Zoom do the heavy lifting for us.

Donald might have become—not necessarily a better professional photographer—but perhaps a better person if, instead of picking up a camera in hs youth, he had sat in a cave with a pot of mud and drawn pictures on the wall with his fingers. No technology involved.

I simply do not accept the idea that we should not let technology do the heavy lifting. We have always done it. We could not live as we do if we had not, unless we wanted to remain cave men and cave women forever.

On the matter of character, however, if character matters more than cleverness, then what happens when those who hold power lack character?

Next week we follow the Preacher into the courts and palaces of his world, where he finds wickedness in the place of judgment and oppression in the place of righteousness—and where the oppressed, he says twice over, have no comforter.

We will ask why injustice troubles us at all, if the world is simply as it is; what the tears of the oppressed reveal about the eternity set in our hearts; and where the Preacher turns when governments, markets, and institutions fail him. His answer is not to seek a better system, but to turn to one another.

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