In
vain!” says the Preacher. In vain! All is that is done is done in vain. What
does man gain from all his labor in which he labors under the sun? One
generation goes, and another generation comes; but the earth remains forever. The
sun also rises, and the sun goes down, and hurries to its place where it rises. The
wind goes toward the south, and turns around to the north. It turns around
continually as it goes, and the wind returns again to its courses. All
the rivers run into the sea, yet the sea is not full. To the place where the
rivers flow, there they flow again. All things are full of weariness
beyond uttering. The eye is not satisfied with seeing, nor the ear filled with
hearing. That which has been is that which shall be; and that which has
been done is that which shall be done: and there is no new thing under the sun. Is
there a thing of which it may be said, “Behold, this is new?” It has been
long ago, in the ages which were before us. There is no memory of the
former; neither shall there be any memory of the latter that are to come, among
those that shall come after.
I,
the Preacher, was king over Israel in Jerusalem. I applied my heart
to seek and to search out by wisdom concerning all that is done under the sky.
It is a heavy burden that God has given to the sons of men to be afflicted
with. I have seen all the works that are done under the sun; and
behold, all is done in vain and a chasing after wind. That which is
crooked can’t be made straight; and that which is lacking can’t be counted. I
said to myself, “Behold, I have obtained for myself great wisdom above all who
were before me in Jerusalem. Yes, my heart has had great experience of wisdom
and knowledge.” I applied my heart to know wisdom, and to know
madness and folly. I perceived that this also was a chasing after wind. For
in much wisdom is much grief; and he who increases knowledge increases sorrow.
Ecclesiastes
1:2-18
The
typical interpretation of this passage uses the term, “vanity,” which distracts
from the true meaning and suggests this is a passage about humility.
In
fact, this passage and all of Ecclesiastes is an extraordinary study in existentialism. The Preacher notes that everything we can
accomplish in our lifetimes will inescapably be erased. Even the pursuit of wisdom is, ultimately,
not worth anything. Nature itself
reflects this – the sun goes up, but its progress in the sky is reversed as it
goes down; the winds blow one way and then another; the rivers labor to fill
the ocean to capacity but it never happens.
Most
of us define ourselves by our accomplishments – whether it is building a business,
building a family, promoting good, filling our eyes with memorable sights, or
filling our minds with memorable experiences (e.g.: the recently minted term, ‘bucket
list’). If we are asked to say a little
about ourselves, we inevitably start with career, vocation, family or something
else that identifies us with a group or an interest. At
life’s crossroads, especially at the end of earthly life, this can all seem
like an exercise in futility. And it is.
Fortunately,
our relationships to each other are not about what purpose we serve for each
other. Our relationships transcend what we can accomplish for one another. This is especially, transcendentally true of
our relationship to God. We are not what
we can accomplish for God, and God is not what He can accomplish for us. We
stand is an existential relationship – He loves us regardless of our
accomplishments on our résumés and regardless of our wisdom, experiences or
goodness.
It
is said that faith provides us with meaning and purpose. I don’t think that’s
entirely true. Faith confirms we need
not serve any purpose and still be the beloved of God. And that
infuses our lives with extraordinary meaning.
Image: Tim Daniels, Autumn Leaves. www.lapseoftheshutter.com
