Ecclesiastes 1:12–18

The Hebrew word Koheleth can hardly mean preacher. It comes from the verb "kahal," which means "to gather" or "assemble." Translators have rendered "kahal" as "congregation," and the Greek Septuagint as "ecclesia." Koheleth is feminine — evidently a word specially provided, and some suggest this was to match "wisdom" in Proverbs, which is also feminine. Perhaps the word "debater" comes nearest to the meaning of the original. The word Koheleth is found nowhere else in the Bible; but in Ecclesiastes it occurs seven times.

He would gather around him those who were eager to hear, and teach them; that is what the title means. Other parts of Scripture deal with the future and with the path of the righteous on earth. This book speaks to everyone whose heart is in the world, busy with the occupations of life, and tells them what they really are.

He tells us too that he was "king over Israel in Jerusalem." Who could this possibly be but Solomon? Even his own heir soon stopped being king over Israel. He lost ten of the twelve tribes and became king over Judah rather than over Israel. But even without such marks as Ecclesiastes 1:1 and 1:12, who else does — who else could — speak of wisdom as the second half of Ecclesiastes 1 does, but Solomon? … There is no real ground for imagining an unknown writer pretending to be Solomon. That idea is quite foreign to Scripture, though it looks reasonable to worldly men who are used to fiction.

These scholars declare that the writer of the book says, "I, the preacher, was king over Israel," and that Solomon could not have written this, since he never ceased to be king. This objection is foolish. The question is not whether the writer of the book reigned as king. The question is what his position was at the time when he wrote it.

This is the preface to his book. From here the Preacher shows that he does not write from hearsay, and does not collect the wisdom of others. He has tried for himself what life under the sun is for a member of the human race.

What gives this its sharp point is the Preacher's own position. If anyone could have escaped the sense of misery that comes from looking at man as he is on the earth, you would have expected it to be king Solomon. What lies before us is his verdict in the Spirit, so that faith might gain from all he tells us. His conclusion did not come from any lack of power, interest, or research, nor from any lack of ability or resources. He gave his heart to seek and search out by wisdom all that is done under the heavens. The sense that it was fruitless, and the sorrow over its evil, only ran deeper in the man who could value it all best.

Solomon is the writer. He goes through his experience of wisdom, of riches, of labour, and of everything his heart as a man could desire — and who can come after the king? He records it by inspiration. So when he proves it all to be nothing but vanity and grief of spirit, this is not the mere talk of a disappointed man, but conviction recorded by God. The actions in the book are marked out as done "under the sun," with no thought of being done toward God. Man is not seen as in direct relationship with God, though he is still responsible to his Creator.

When he says, "I communed with my own heart," he states the method of his search. He does it by meditation and not through revelation. He does not search by the light that comes from above, but by the light that comes from nature and observation.

If anyone could look at man as he is on the earth and escape the sense of misery, you would expect that man to be king Solomon... It was not for lack of power, interest, or research, nor for lack of ability or resources. He gave his heart to seek and search out by wisdom everything done under the heavens. The sense of how fruitless it all was, and the sorrow over its evil, only ran deeper in the man who could take it all in best.

It is not work: in Eden man had work to do. It is toil, the drudgery of work, and most of all the drudgery that a heart away from God drives us into. "All things are full of labour," says the preacher: "man cannot utter it; the eye is not satisfied with seeing, nor the ear with hearing."... And the grace of God in Christ would draw us away from this: "Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."

One striking difference from Proverbs stands out on the face of this book: here Elohim, or God, appears from first to last, never once Jehovah. So the subject is not the people in a special relationship with Him, but man as he is... Ecclesiastes is not about covenant relationship and its set order. It is about God, the Creator, and about man searching in vain for happiness in a ruined creation.

He gave himself completely to the task of searching out by wisdom everything done under the sun... Man may see the defects and feel the lack, but he cannot supply it. What a condition to be in! This is man's condition on earth, as one who has turned away from God... He sees what is crooked and sees what is missing, but he cannot put things straight or supply what is lacking... And remember, this is not the experience of a sinner reaping what he has sown. It is a man of the old creation — himself a sinner — feeling the ruin and disorder sin has brought on the earth.

The expression "under the sun" comes up no fewer than twenty-eight times in these twelve chapters, and it gives the book its character. It describes life "in Adam," and it looks for an answer to these questions: What is best for man? How should he spend his life to be happy on earth?... The last few verses of the book hold the direct teaching from God. The last two verses answer the searchings of Ecclesiastes 1:13.

Its main lesson, it is true, is the general vanity of the whole scene around us. But it also lets us know that there is one way out, one relief from the crushing sense of that common, universal emptiness: we find it in the service of God.

The second phrase we notice is "under the sun." It appears twenty-nine times in this book. Now what is "under the sun" is on the earth. There is, of course, something above the sun — heaven, the heavenly things. Ecclesiastes deals with earthly things — with what man does apart from God, the natural man. The book describes the things under the sun. It shows that everything man does — his pursuits, his work, whatever he takes on and all that goes with it — is nothing but vanity and vexation of spirit. It never satisfies, and it is full of sorrow and perplexity.

What gives this its special point is the Preacher's own position. If anyone could escape the sense of wretchedness in surveying man as he is on the earth, it might have been thought to be king Solomon. It is his estimate in the Spirit that lies before us, so that faith might profit by all he tells. It is not for lack of power, interest, or research, any more than of ability or resources... The one who could best appreciate it all felt its emptiness, and grieved over its evil, more deeply than anyone.

Solomon records his experience by inspiration. So when he proves it all to be only vanity and vexation of spirit, these are not the words of a disappointed man. They are conviction that God Himself has recorded.

This is man's condition on earth: he has departed from God. If he feels at all, he must feel sharply how bitter the results are of turning from the living and true God. He sees what is crooked and knows what is missing, but he cannot put things straight or supply what is lacking. "All is vanity and vexation of spirit" is the experience of the king's son. And remember: this is not the experience of a sinner reaping what he has sown. It is one of the old creation — though a sinner himself — feeling the ruin and disorder sin has brought on the earth.

It was not so before sin entered the world; on the contrary, God saw everything that He had made, and behold, it was very good. When sin was there, God made the evil felt... Today is very different. Crookedness and defect remain. They are too great for man, and God's time has not yet come; but meanwhile the misery is felt in full and described in detail.

No human object could satisfy an immortal soul. A dying man could find no rest in what he must die and leave behind. Yet when he thought of himself, it was all I, I, I: I did it, and I found it vanity... As it has been said: in Ecclesiastes the heart was too great for the object. In Song of Songs the object is too great for the heart.

Turn wherever you like "under the sun" and you will find nothing the heart can rest on. You must rise on the steady, strong wing of faith to the regions "above the sun." There you find "a better possession and an abiding one."

What satisfies, what is not vanity and vexation of spirit, is what is above the sun, not under it. From above the sun He came, who is the wisdom of God, the Son of God... He died for our sins and is now back above the sun. He is the One "in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge." Christ alone can satisfy.

What gives it particular point is the personal position of the Preacher. Could anyone look at man as he is on the earth and stay free from the sense of wretchedness? If anyone could, you would expect it to be king Solomon... It is not from lack of power, interest, or research, any more than of capability or resources. He gave his heart to seek and search out by wisdom all that is done under the heavens. The one who could best take it all in felt its fruitlessness, and grieved over its evil, all the more deeply... Crookedness was here; failure or defect there.

What a condition to be in! This is man's state on earth once he has departed from God... He sees what is crooked and knows what is missing, but he cannot put things straight or supply what is lacking... And remember, this is not the sinner reaping the fruit of what he has sown. It is a man of the old creation — a sinner himself — feeling the ruin and disorder that sin has brought on the earth.

It was not so before sin entered into the world; on the contrary God saw everything that He had made, and behold, it was very good. When sin was there, God made the evil felt... That honour waits for Him who is worthy: the conqueror of Satan, the One who carries out God's will in and for the universe. He reconciles not only us who believe, but all things, for that day and for ever. This day is very different. Crookedness and defect remain, too great for man, and God's time to act has not yet come. Meanwhile man feels the misery in full and spells it out in detail.

When he turns to look into what men do, he learns the evils done under the sun: the crying injustice, the lawlessness, the frauds, and the many acts of oppression men practise all the time. He sees them, and finds he has no power to stop them... Only another arm can restrain the lawless. Only a mind outside Adam's fallen family can devise the remedy. The day of the Son of Man must dawn before earth sees One able to put things straight.

The birth of Isaac did not improve Ishmael; it only brought out his real opposition to the child of promise... What then was the remedy? To make Ishmael better? Not at all; but, "Cast out this slave woman with her son, for the son of this slave woman shall not be heir with my son Isaac." Here was the only remedy. "What is crooked cannot be made straight." So you need only get rid of the crooked thing altogether, and take up what God has made straight. It is wasted labour to try to make a crooked thing straight.

How blind we have been and still are! The judgment has come on us, and we are unable to make crooked things straight (Eccl. 1:15), or to bring a clean thing out of an unclean. To own the failure, and be ashamed of it and of our part in it, while admiring what once was — that was right, and is right now... He will not restore man in ruin, by human means, to what divine power and goodness set up; but He gives it all over to His Son... So I do not despair of God and His grace, even though everything has failed in me and in man. Nor do I go on in wickedness as though there were no hope.

When he says, "I communed with my own heart," he states the method of his search. He does it by meditation and not through revelation. He searches not in the light that comes from above, but in the light that comes from nature and from observation. He tells us a little more about himself: "I have acquired great wisdom, surpassing all who were over Jerusalem before me, and my heart has had great experience of wisdom and knowledge." Is this language not enough to prove beyond a shadow of doubt that Solomon is speaking? And if not Solomon, who else dared to write these words?

God gave that remarkable man the most astonishing opportunities to dig into every possible source of human enjoyment, such as you and I will never know. He had the position. He had the special wisdom given to him, and a magnificent mind. He was a king, and he came into a kingdom made splendid by the work and conquests of his greater father David. Wealth rolled in on him from every side. He had every possible luxury and every chance for self-indulgence. The very world lay at his feet.

What gives this its particular force is the personal position of the Preacher. If anyone could be spared the sense of misery while looking at man as he is on the earth, we would have expected it to be king Solomon. What lies before us is his own assessment in the Spirit, so that faith might profit from all he tells us. It is not from any lack of power, interest, or research, any more than of ability or resources. The sense of life's fruitlessness, and the sorrow over its evil, were only deeper in the man who could best appreciate it all.

Thank God, before Solomon ended his life his eyes were opened. God led him to write this striking book, in which he records the results of the experiment. He was not inspired in doing what he did, but he was certainly inspired to record the result of it. Listen to what he says: I have investigated on a grand scale, on a scale others can never touch. Others might have one per cent of it. I have had the whole hundred per cent. And the verdict is, there is no profit in it at all.

As God first made him, man was meant to find pure delight on earth. He had a nature able to enjoy, a mind able to learn and grow, and a body able to work. Is that the case now? This is human experience. It is not the experience a man has to have, but it is the experience of everyone still suffering under the consequences of the fall. However great a man may be on earth, and whatever the powers of his mind or the longings of his heart, as a child of Adam he cannot get beyond what is described here. He is like a beautiful ruin. Here and there traces of fine workmanship still remain, and by them we can compare the architect's clear design with the present condition of the building. So we can see in man's feelings and powers what he was once capable of, while we are forced to admit that he is only a wreck.

This teaches us with great force that the greatest wisdom and knowledge cannot by itself protect us from evil. Only a steady, dependent submission of heart to the Lord Himself gives that protection. To know the truth is one thing; to obey it is another. Which would we rather have? A mind of great intelligence that knows and sees facts as they are, or a heart that obeys the truth God has made known to us?

What gives this its special force is the personal position of the Preacher. If anyone could be free from the sense of wretchedness while surveying man as he is on the earth, you would have expected it to be king Solomon. What lies before us is his assessment in the Spirit, so that faith might profit from all he tells us. The failure was not from lack of power, interest, or research, any more than of ability or resources. Solomon's vast experience of wisdom and knowledge only pressed on the wound, whether he was cultivating wisdom or avoiding madness and folly. He felt this too was only chasing the wind.

Ecclesiastes 1:17 blends things that differ: "And I applied my heart to know wisdom and to know madness and folly." Ecclesiastes 2:12 does the same. Surely not at the same moment! First he valued wisdom as more precious than rubies and fine gold; then he resorted to madness and folly.

So much for Solomon's wisdom. But then he said, I am going "to know madness and folly." If there is any pleasure in a thing, I am in for it. He turned to wine — a dangerous thing. He married wives. He carried out great works. He gathered riches. He did not just sip. He drank deeply from every sparkling cup. He tried every imaginable pleasure. He not only ruined his testimony, he very largely wrecked his kingdom.

This is human experience. It is not the experience a man must have, but the experience of all men who still suffer under the consequences of the fall. However great a man may be on earth, he cannot get beyond what this passage describes. Whatever the powers of his mind or the longings of his heart, he is still a child of Adam. Think of a beautiful ruin. Traces of fine workmanship are still visible here and there, and by them we can compare the architect's clear design with the present state of the building. In the same way, man's feelings and powers show us what he was once capable of, though we must admit that he is a wreck.

"In much wisdom is much grief; and he that increases knowledge increases sorrow." So we read in Ecclesiastes 1:18, Solomon being the writer. There is truth in his words. The thinking man must suffer more than the carefree crowd. His studies show him the evils at work around him that others miss. But is this true where God is concerned? A thousand times no. The better we know our God, the more our joy grows.

Man under the sun, whatever he does — all his labours, all his riches, all his seeking for good, all his achievements — cannot satisfy him. It cannot give what the soul of man craves and needs. No searcher can ever discover it — not the wise man, the philosopher or the scientist. What man needs is not anything "under the sun" but that which is "from above the sun."

No human object could satisfy an immortal soul. A dying man could not find rest in what he was about to die out of… As it has been said, in Ecclesiastes the heart was too great for the object; in the Song of Songs the object is too great for the heart. We need a largeness of capacity to enjoy God Himself — a largeness that none but God can give and none but God can fill.

What gives this its special force is the personal position of the Preacher. If anyone could be exempt from the sense of wretchedness in surveying man as he is on the earth, it might have been supposed to be king Solomon. What we have here is his verdict, given in the Spirit, so that faith might profit from all he tells us. He gave his heart to seek and search out by wisdom everything done under the heavens. The sense of its fruitlessness, and the sorrow over its evil, were only deeper in the one who could best appreciate it all.

When he says, "I communed with my own heart," he states the method of his search. He does it by meditation and not through revelation. He does not search in the light that comes from above, but in the light that comes from nature and observation. … And what results does the great and wise king of Jerusalem give? The result is twofold. "I have seen all the works that are done under the sun; and behold all is vanity and vexation of spirit" — the pursuit of the wind, that is, chasing air-bubbles. And another conclusion: "In much wisdom is much grief, and he who increases knowledge increases sorrow."

There is truth in his words. The thinking man is bound to suffer more than the frivolous crowd. His studies give him an understanding of the evils at work around him that others lack. People sometimes say, "Ignorance is bliss." The man who increases his knowledge increases his capacity for suffering. But is this true where GOD is concerned? A thousand times no. The better we know our God, the more we increase our joy. And the better we understand His purposes for this poor devastated world, the fitter we are to live and testify in it.

This is human experience. It is not the experience a man had to have. It is the experience of all men who are still suffering under the consequences of the fall. A man may be great on earth. His mind may be powerful and his heart full of longing. Yet as a child of Adam he cannot get beyond what this passage describes. Think of a beautiful ruin. Traces of fine workmanship still remain here and there, and by them we can compare the architect's clear design with the building as it stands now. In the same way, man's feelings and powers show what he was made capable of, while we are forced to admit he is only a wreck.

Knowledge may make you a scholar, but not a saint; orthodox, but not gracious. If a man increases in knowledge and does not get grace along with it, he increases sorrow to himself — yes, eternal sorrow.

But is there something else that satisfies? Is there a higher wisdom and knowledge? There is, but the book of the natural man does not reveal it. What satisfies, what is not vanity and vexation of spirit, is what is above the sun, not under it. From above the sun He came, who is the wisdom of God, the Son of God. He has come and gone, but He brought to the poor thirsting and hungry heart of man the true knowledge. He died for our sins and is now back above the sun. He is the One "in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge" (Colossians 2). The only thing that can satisfy is Christ.