By the time Kohelet reached the plaza, Eli had propped up his broken fruit cart and was picking up the oranges that had fanned out across the cobblestones. Kohelet crossed over and bent to rescue two from the mud.
Eli looked up with a wry smile. "I know, I know. If you don't fix your rafters, the roof will eventually leak. I keep planning to fix the leg on my cart, but then it's either a market day or a Sabbath, and it never gets done. I tell myself I can't afford to take a day to fix it, but then it breaks, and I lose money on all this ruined produce."
Kohelet carried the dirty fruit back to the stand. "At least it's only the oranges this time. They don't bruise, and you can wash them off. You still have time before the market gets busy. I'll give you a hand."
"You're a good man, Kohelet." Eli glanced over his shoulder and lowered his voice. "The palace didn't deserve you." He carefully placed his dirty oranges into a wooden bin and grabbed a bucket from inside his shop. "Will you watch the stand for me while I run to the well?"
Kohelet nodded, repressing a quip about Eli actually running as the old man ambled away toward the upper end of the plaza. Eli was not the most industrious man in the market, but he was easygoing and generous. Often, as Kohelet passed his booth, Eli would hold out a piece of fruit and invite him inside for a chat. Eli wasn't the best at making a profit, but he had a good reputation with everyone in the market, including his customers.
A door flew open to the left of Eli's stall, and a dog ran out, yelping, its tail between its legs. Immediately behind it, broom in hand, charged a disheveled woman in a stained frock. The broom smacked the ground, and the dog ran even faster, ducking through Eli's legs and almost knocking him down. With an air of great satisfaction, the woman turned back to the doorway and caught sight of Kohelet.
"A glorious, completely futile morning to you, Kohelet."
"That it is, Esther. It is good to see the sun once again."
"And today will be fully enjoyed." She beamed at him and retreated back into her shop. Esther sold fish for a living, and whenever he passed her shop, she would give him a broad grin and call out, "Have a wonderful, futile day!"
People thought she was a bit simple, but she was one of the few who had grasped what Kohelet was teaching. A great joy could be found when one fully embraced the futility of all human endeavors. You could quit fighting to get ahead and enjoy each day with what you already had in hand.
The exaggerated sound of a rooster crowing directly in his ear startled Kohelet so badly that he almost knocked Eli's fruit cart over again. It was only Nabal, the marketplace fool, who had crept up behind Kohelet and now launched into his overused chicken imitation, clucking out his rendition of Kohelet's often-used words. "'Hebel, hebelim,' says Kohelet. 'futile, futile. All is futile.'"
When Kohelet didn't respond, the young man finally stopped and picked up one of the soiled oranges. "I always knew peddling wisdom was a poor business, but I don't think anyone will buy a muddy orange from you either. You need a new line of work, Kohelet. Something to bring in a bit more yithron."
Kohelet raised his eyebrows but didn't respond. There was an old proverb about responding to fools. The first half said to answer them so they could learn and become wise, but the second half said not to waste your breath, because some fools will never learn. Nabal was of the second variety despite what his father desperately wanted to believe.
Eli returned, huffing along with his bucket of water. "I had to wait for Caleb to douse his head with water. I think he drank a bit too much last night."
Nabal snorted. "That was my money he was drinking. He and I are working on a new business that is going to make me a lot of yithron." He grinned at Kohelet as if he had just proved something great. "My father wants me to start up a new shop down here in the market, and Caleb has some great ideas. Last night we came up with a plan that will bring many new customers down to this market. It's going to change things around here—that's for sure. We are going to—"
YOU ARE READING
The Scroll
Historical Fiction2000 years ago a person named Kohelet wrote the world's oldest philosophy of work. Over time his amazing thoughts were buried under traditions and viewpoints that robbed us of his great wisdom. This short novelization of Kohelet's life is intended...