This leads to the timeless question: What true advantage does a human being have in life by his own strength? Our lives are only vapor, soon gone and quickly forgotten. Work itself, apart from God, is meaningless. Rabbi Abahu offers insight when he says: “Under the sun there is no profit, but above the sun—in Torah—there is profit.” (Kohelet Rabbah 1:3). In other words, what we labor for in earthly terms perishes, but what is bound up in God’s word endures. Similarly, Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai comments that the phrase “under the sun” always points to futility, but “above the sun”—that is, matters of Torah and mitzvot—carries eternal value (Kohelet Rabbah 1:9).
Nature itself testifies to this cycle of futility. The sun rises and sets; rivers run endlessly into the sea, yet the sea is never full. The endless repetition shows that humanity alone cannot escape this cycle. Stripped of God, we are nothing more than “meat bags,” animated dust destined to return to the ground. Even the idea of progress proves illusory. What seems new has often existed before in some form. Rabbi Abraham ibn Ezra comments on this theme: “Should you say, if a thing which [appears to be] new already existed in previous times, then we would have heard of it, [then know: there is no remembrance of the events that occurred in former times] and the same shall happen to the events of latter times, and those that transpire after the latter times.” (pg. 38 Rabbi Chaim Nachum (H. Norman) Strickman; 2017). Humanity continually forgets the lessons of the past, endlessly repeating mistakes. The Midrash further adds that even great rulers and inventors vanish from memory, for “there is no remembrance of earlier generations” (Kohelet Rabbah 1:11). What mankind calls “progress” is little more than recycling what has already been.
If wisdom is God’s gift, it is also a burden. King Solomon himself admits, “Because in much wisdom there is much grief, and increasing knowledge results in increasing pain.” (Ecclesiastes 1:18 NASU). Knowledge opens the eyes to the brokenness of the world, but it does not provide the cure. Wickedness cannot be corrected by man, and learning for knowledge’s sake alone leads to despair. Rabbi Yose ben Hanina interprets this verse to mean that wisdom increases sorrow because the more one understands the fleeting nature of life, the more one mourns for wasted days (Kohelet Rabbah 1:18).
If knowledge fails, then perhaps pleasure can provide meaning—or so many in society believe. People chase after laughter, alcohol, work, entertainment, and distraction, hoping these will satisfy the soul. But Ecclesiastes shows that pleasure too is fleeting. Laughter proves hollow, wine numbs but cannot heal, and burying oneself in work only leaves emptiness at the end of the day. To live for pleasure alone is, as the Teacher says, to “strive after the wind.” Rabbi Eliezer taught that “all laughter is meaningless unless it leads to joy in the commandments” (Kohelet Rabbah 2:2), for only in serving God can joy have substance.
What then of wisdom compared with foolishness? Clearly, wisdom surpasses folly as light surpasses darkness. A wise person may see further down the road of life than a fool. Yet Ecclesiastes points out the crushing reality: both the wise and the fool die. The same fate awaits them, and eventually both are forgotten. As time erases memory, the wise man is remembered no differently than the fool. Once again, all is futility. The rabbis reflect that this is why Solomon concluded, “Better the bitterness of wisdom than the sweetness of folly,” for even if temporary, wisdom aligns the soul with truth (Kohelet Rabbah 2:13).
Where then can meaning be found? The answer is not in ourselves, our intellect, our achievements, or our pleasures. Ecclesiastes directs us back to God. For as it is written, “For who can eat and who can have enjoyment without Him?” (Ecclesiastes 2:25 NASU). True meaning begins and ends with the Lord. All good fortune, joy, and wisdom flow from Him, and apart from Him, all things collapse into emptiness. Rabbi Levi taught that when Solomon said, “without Him,” he meant that all joy is meaningless unless accompanied by the fear of Heaven (Kohelet Rabbah 2:25). Thus, both the Christian and rabbinic traditions unite on this point: the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, and in Him life finds its purpose.
