Ecclesiastes Revisited -- A Modern Take on an Old Search for Meaning -- Chap 2

In the plain of my distress I heard my name being called from the living room.  It was that gentle voice of Carl.  Softly, he said, “I know the answers . . . the answers for everything. Come with me and we will put Sophia on her throne.  Reason will guide us to making senses of all that is.”

I was enticed.  I stepped out of my trousers of faith and put Sophia in the picture window . . . she would be my beacon of hope.

Then Carl introduced me to a real beauty, whom I had seen, but I did not know. She was the universe . . . all that is and ever was.  He introduced me as well to his friends. We were all materialist. We had the formula to each aspect of reality.  Where the stones came from, where the worms came from, where I came from and where we were going.  I knew our destiny and within that I hope to find our purpose.

I gave my life to be a man of science.  I loved the universe and she loved me . . . or did she.  At the height of my new world Sophia stood behind me . . . oh, she can be a nuisance at times.  She was pulling on my shirt tale again.  She whispered in my ear, 

They’re not being honest with you.  They’re lying to you but even more, they are lying to themselves.  They are injecting meaning where there can be none. If you start with chance and the material, you can’t arrive at meaning. It is illogical. That born of chaos must always reside there.  There can be no difference between points. No difference between space and time. No difference between energy and matter, no difference between life and death, no difference between Mother Theresa and Hitler, no difference between you . . . and the stone. No difference between being and never have been. Carl talks of intent. There can be no intent. He speaks of destiny . . . which is an illusion. He speaks of love . . . there can be none. He speaks of purpose . . . which must be empty. He speaks of meaning . . . and meaning is impossible with that born of chaos.

I felt dizzy.  The purpose that I had gripped so strongly was now slipping between my fingers like sand. Not even one tiny grain was left behind.  I was lost in a universe that didn’t give a damn.  All is meaningless I thought. My career of science would be chasing after the wind.