I, the Preacher, was king over Israel in Jerusalem.
Here the book turns from general remarks about life to a personal report. The speaker names his title, his kingdom, and his city — and everything he says next rests on his right to speak.
The Hebrew word behind "Preacher" is not the usual word for a man who gives a sermon. Its root is the language of gathering people:
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.
The same idea shows whom the book addresses:
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.
The wording is exact. "King over Israel" — not over Judah — narrows the field to one man:
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.
Some have argued that "I was king" cannot be Solomon's, since he reigned until his death. That reading has been answered directly:
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.
What follows carries weight because the writer ran the test himself, instead of collecting other people's opinions:
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.
And nothing was missing that a man would need to make such a search succeed:
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.
The search stays on ground a man can observe for himself. Yet the record of it is more than one man's opinion:
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.
- Gatherer. "Preacher" comes from a word meaning to assemble. It marks a man calling a crowd together to hear what he found.
- Throne. "King over Israel in Jerusalem" fits Solomon alone — his own son lost ten of the twelve tribes and ruled only Judah.
- Search. From this verse on, the writer stops reporting what others say. He reports what he tested himself, with resources no one else could match.
- Verdict. The best-placed man alive ran the test. So his verdict is not the complaint of someone who missed out.
- Record. He made the search "under the sun," and recorded it by inspiration — settled conviction, not soured opinion.
And I applied my heart to seek and search out by wisdom concerning all that is done under the heavens this grievous occupation hath God given to the children of men to weary themselves therewith.
Solomon had the wisdom, the wealth and the throne to attempt what no one else could: a full survey of everything people do on earth. This verse gives the scope of that search, its cost, and its source — the task came from God Himself.
How the Preacher searched matters as much as what he found. His own words later in the chapter show the method.
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 have escaped the weariness he describes, it was the man writing. He lacked no resource, so no one can blame the result on poor means.
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.
The task God gave is not activity itself. One writer separates honest work from the drudgery that came later, and points to where we can lay that weight down.
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."
The older translation he quotes reads "labour" where the ESV has "weariness."
The verse says God gave this task. The name for God running through the whole book is deliberate: the Creator dealing with all people, not the covenant name tied to one nation.
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.
The search finds the fault. It cannot cure it. That gap is where the pain lies.
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 book does not leave the search unresolved. The phrase "under the sun" marks its limit, and the closing words of the book supply what the search could not.
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.
One writer also finds a relief inside the book itself:
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.
- Given — the task is not self-imposed. The Creator handed this search to the human race. The book names Him here as God over man as man, not as the covenant God of one nation.
- Toil — the word is not work but drudgery. Work belonged to Eden; this weight came after, and Christ's invitation to the weary meets it head on.
- Searcher — the man best supplied with wisdom, wealth and power ran the experiment. His skill only deepened the disappointment. No one can claim they would have done better.
- Limit — the search reaches only as far as the sun. He can see what is bent and what is missing; he cannot straighten or supply either.
- Answer — this verse leaves the search open on purpose; the end of the book closes it. The one outlet from universal emptiness is the service of God.
I have seen all the works that are done under the sun, and behold, all is vanity and pursuit of the wind.
Solomon had wisdom and wealth beyond anyone else, and he used them to test everything people do. This verse is his verdict: the question is not whether life holds good things, but whether any of them can hold a human heart.
The phrase that limits his survey also explains its result. The writers below use an older translation. It says "vexation of spirit" where the ESV says "a striving after wind."
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.
The verdict carries weight because of who reached it.
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.
Nor is this the sourness of a man whose plans collapsed:
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.
His wisdom found the fault but could not fix it. His grief is not that of a man harvesting his own foolish choices.
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.
The emptiness Solomon reports has a starting point in history.
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.
There is a mismatch between what a human being is and what any earthly object can offer.
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.
If the survey covers everything under the sun, then the search must move outside its range.
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."
That region is not an idea but a Person:
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.
- Viewpoint — "Under the sun" appears twenty-nine times. It fences the search to earth, to what man does apart from God.
- Verdict — The searcher had every resource, and he wrote by inspiration. His finding is not a disappointed man's complaint but a conviction God recorded.
- Cause — The world was very good before sin entered. What Solomon reports is the disorder sin brought in, not the fruit of his own choices.
- Limit — Wisdom under the sun can see what is crooked and lacking, yet cannot straighten or supply it.
- Cure — The heart is too great for anything under the sun. Rest lies above it, in Christ, who holds all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge.
That which is crooked cannot be made straight; and that which is wanting cannot be numbered.
Solomon speaks here as a man who has looked at everything happening in the world and filed a report on it. His verdict comes in two parts, and it comes from the man best placed to know.
No man ever had more power or wisdom to work with than the king who says this.
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.
Wisdom let Solomon see the bend and the gap. It could not close either.
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.
The world was not always like this. Sin brought the bend in, and one Person alone will take it out.
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.
Solomon does not leave the claim as a saying. He looks at what men actually do.
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.
If straightening is impossible, harder effort is not the answer. One writer applies the verse to attempts at improving human nature, using Abraham's two sons as the picture.
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.
One writer turns the same admission on Christians looking back at the wreck of their own history. Owning the failure is the honest step, and not the last one.
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.
- Crooked by cause. God made the world very good. The bend came in with sin, so it is damage, not design.
- Crooked and seen. Wisdom let Solomon see the defect and feel what was missing. That made the pain sharper, not lighter.
- Crooked beyond reach. The injustice, fraud and oppression he saw outran his power. He never lacked resources.
- Crooked, so leave it. Straightening is wasted labour. Drop the crooked thing and take up what God has made straight.
- Crooked until He comes. What is too great for man is not too great for God. He keeps the honour of putting everything straight for His Son. So honesty about the ruin need not end in despair.
I communed with mine own heart, saying, Lo, I have become great and have acquired wisdom more than all they that have been before me over Jerusalem; and my heart hath seen much of wisdom and knowledge.
Solomon stops his survey of life to take stock of himself, and no one in Jerusalem before him had gathered such wisdom. So the verse puts a hard question: did the best-equipped man who ever tested life find anything worth keeping?
The opening words name a method, not just a passing thought. He turned inward for his answers. Older translations read "I communed with my own heart," and one writer builds on that wording:
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?
His claim sets up a test run with resources no reader can match:
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.
Why take one man's report as the measure? Because of who was making it:
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.
The book itself is the report. One writer tells how it came to be written:
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.
What Solomon says about himself, one writer says about every one of us:
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.
More wisdom than anyone before him did not keep Solomon safe. One writer draws the lesson:
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?
- Method — He searched his own heart, by observation and not by light from above.
- Means — Position, wealth, and a mind no one could match gave him every advantage for the search.
- Measure — His hundred per cent test is the reason his verdict stands for everyone with one per cent.
- Mirror — Even his greatness left him unsatisfied: man is a beautiful ruin that still shows the design.
- Moral — Unmatched wisdom did not guard him. Only an obedient heart does.
And I applied my heart to the knowledge of wisdom, and to the knowledge of madness and folly I perceived that this also is a striving after the wind.
Solomon had already looked at the world's endless cycles. Now he turns the search inward. He sets wisdom next to madness and folly to see what each one gives him, and comes back with the same verdict: a striving after wind. Why did the best-equipped man alive come away empty?
The force of the verse lies in who is speaking.
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.
Solomon did not hold both pursuits at once. He moved from one to the other.
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.
This was not a detached study. He committed himself to the folly he was investigating, and paid for it.
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.
The disappointment is not bad luck. It is the condition of a race that has fallen from what it was made for.
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.
The verse ends with "a striving after wind" — chasing what you can never hold. The next verse names the price of the search, and then names the one exception.
"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.
Everything Solomon tested lay "under the sun." That limit is why none of it satisfied him.
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."
The failure is one of scale. The seeker is bigger than anything he can find below.
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.
- The searcher — Solomon had the power, wealth and mind to test everything. He did not fail for lack of resources.
- The search — he studied wisdom, then threw himself into folly. It cost him his testimony and much of his kingdom.
- The sorrow — more knowledge means more capacity to suffer. The thinking man feels the evil around him that others miss.
- The reason — man is a ruin. Traces of the first design still show, so nothing under the sun can reach what he was made for.
- The remedy — the heart is too big for anything below; only God gives, and fills, a capacity that size.
For in much wisdom is much vexation, and he that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow.
Solomon closes his experiment with a sentence that still stings. The more you understand, the more it hurts. Is learning itself the problem? Is there any knowledge that does not end in sorrow?
The weight of the verse comes from who says it, and from how far he pushed the search.
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.
The chapter also tells us how he ran the search, and the method set a ceiling on what he could find.
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."
Where older translations say "much grief," the ESV says "much vexation."
Understanding is a capacity, and capacity cuts both ways. But one writer marks a sharp exception.
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 grief is not how God made things. It belongs to a race living after the fall, and man's greatness is what makes the wreck visible.
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.
One writer turns the verse on religious knowledge itself.
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.
Solomon's search stopped at the horizon. The answer had to come from beyond it, and it came in a Person.
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.
- Under the sun. Solomon searched by his own heart — observation, not revelation. His conclusion is true, but limited by the horizon he chose.
- Under the fall. The sorrow is not built into knowing. It is the experience of a ruin — a masterpiece we still recognise by its broken pieces.
- Under the strain. The more you see, the more you feel; a thinking man carries the world's evils that lighter minds never notice.
- Under judgment. Knowledge without grace makes a scholar, not a saint. It increases sorrow that outlasts this life.
- Above the sun. One knowledge adds joy instead of grief — knowing God in Christ. In Him all the treasures of wisdom are hidden.
I said in my heart, Come now, I will try thee with mirth, therefore enjoy pleasure. But behold, this also is vanity.
Solomon turns his search inward. He tells his own heart to enjoy itself, and the verdict lands in the same breath as the test — so why could a king able to buy any pleasure not buy happiness?
One phrase runs through the whole book: under the sun. One word keeps returning with it: vanity.
The word "vanity" means that which soon vanishes, nothingness. It is often joined to "vexation of spirit" — literally, pursuit of the wind. Ecclesiastes is occupied with earthly things, with what man does apart from God — that is, the natural man. The book describes the things under the sun. It shows that everything man does, his pursuits, his labours, whatever he undertakes and all that goes with it, is nothing but vanity and a chasing after wind. It is always unsatisfying and full of sorrow and perplexity. The writer makes it clear that in all his searching he does not depend on divine revelation, on what is above the sun. He reaches his results by the light nature gives. His resources are within himself. The phrase "I communed with my own heart" occurs seven times in the book and confirms this.
The verse opens with a man talking to himself, and that matters for how we read it:
The whole passage is what Solomon tells us he "said in his heart" at a certain time. It is not divine revelation, but human doubt: the questioning of man's mind while speculating about the mystery of existence.
"I will test you with pleasure" is Solomon speaking to his own heart. Here is what he then tried.
He said in his heart, "Come now, I will test you" — that is, I will try now to satisfy you, that is, myself, my heart. He said to himself, "enjoy yourself." He laughed and had mirth; he tried wine, laid hold on folly. Then he made great works. He built houses, planted vineyards, and laid out beautiful gardens with fruit trees and all kinds of shrubbery. They had pools of water, springs and waterfalls — all so pleasing to the eye. To all this he added servants and maidens, with great possessions.
Most people only sample the world's pleasures. Solomon had the means to exhaust them, and he wrote down what he found.
Thank God, before Solomon ended his career his eyes were opened. He was led to write this striking book, and in it he records the results of the experiment. He was not inspired in doing what he did, but he was certainly inspired to put on record the result of the experiment. 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. The verdict is, there is not a bit of profit in it.
The next verse pronounces on the very thing verse 1 commanded. The judgment is blunt, and it is aimed at a world that still runs the same experiment.
In Ecclesiastes Solomon tells us he went in for mirth and pleasure. People are pleasure-mad nowadays, but they do not look happy. Solomon says of such laughter, "It is mad" — so it is. "For as the crackling of thorns under a pot, so is the laughter of the fools." The crackling of thorns does not last long, and the pleasures of sin last only a season. How foolish to forget God, the soul, eternity.
The experiment cost Solomon more than money.
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 not only sipped but drank deeply of every sparkling cup. He tried every imaginable pleasure. He not only ruined his testimony, but very largely wrecked his kingdom. In all this self-gratification he heaped up every delightful thing and made everything serve himself. His aim was to be able to say that he had become great.
So why did none of it satisfy him?
Solomon says that all the rivers run into the sea, yet the sea is not full. The sea is the human heart. Send every river of earthly pleasure into those discontented hearts. They would still stay unfilled and unsatisfied. Men hunt for satisfaction where it never can be found. An iceberg yields no heat, salt no sweetness, and wine cannot be pressed from turnips. Man's heart was made for God, and only God, in Christ, can fill and satisfy it.
- Speaker. The verse records a man talking to his own heart, working from his own resources, not passing on a message from God.
- Search. "I will test you with pleasure" means he set out to satisfy himself. He had the wealth, wisdom and throne to run the test in full.
- Verdict. One man tried the whole hundred per cent and filed the report: there is not a bit of profit in it.
- Cost. The search ruined his testimony and wrecked much of his kingdom — all so he could say he had become great.
- Answer. Every river of earthly pleasure leaves the human heart empty. That heart was made for God, and only God, in Christ, fills it.
I said of laughter, Madness! and of mirth, What availeth it?
Solomon set out to test happiness with every advantage a king could command. His verdict on laughter and his blunt question about pleasure are the report of that experiment.
The book records a trial. Solomon kept his wisdom while he ran it, so he could judge what he found:
This is the experience of a man who keeps his wisdom, so that he can judge everything. He tries everything under the sun that might be thought able to make men happy. He enjoys everything the human mind can imagine as a means of joy. The result of this trial was the discovery that all is vanity and frustration of spirit. Every effort to be happy by owning the earth, whatever the way, ends in nothing. There is a worm eating at the root. The greater the capacity for enjoyment, the deeper and wider the disappointment and frustration of spirit.
In "I will test you," Solomon is talking to his own heart. What follows runs through everything a fallen nature reaches for:
He experimented, so to speak, with what belongs to the natural man, a fallen nature. That nature holds three things: the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes and the pride of life. We can trace these three things in the opening verses. The lust of the flesh in verses 1-3; the lust of the eyes in verses 4-6, and the pride of life in verses 7-8. He said in his heart, "Come now, I will test you": that is, I will try now to satisfy you, that is myself, my heart. He said to himself, "enjoy pleasure." He laughed and had mirth; he tried wine, laid hold on folly.
The chase after pleasure has not changed, and neither has the verdict on it:
In Ecclesiastes Solomon tells us he went in for mirth and pleasure. People are pleasure mad nowadays, but they do not look happy. Solomon says of such laughter, "It is MAD," so it is. "As the crackling of thorns under a pot, so is the laughter of the fools." Thorns do not crackle for long, and the pleasures of sin last only for a season. How foolish to forget God, the soul, eternity.
The answer is nothing, and the reason is the size of the human heart:
The heart of man is too large for this world to fill. Its capacities are too vast for everything under the heavens to satisfy… But suppose a man reached every object he desired and had everything — what would he gain? Only a deeper sense that all is vanity, that earthly good has no power to fill the aching emptiness within. All worldly pleasures, amusements, indulgences and gratifications leave the soul more thirsty than ever: they cannot satisfy. Excitement is the right name for worldly pleasures — take that away, and they would prove a most burdensome task.
This verdict does not come from a man who missed out. He had his fill, and he kept his head while he did:
Such was the wide range of pleasures, intellectual and sensual, that he explored. He held back no joy. Yet while he entered so keenly into all that he describes, he tells us his wisdom remained with him. So he was well able to judge what all this was worth, from his own experience and from the wisdom that never left him. Would not such a man be satisfied with what this life offered? If others less favoured were disappointed, he at least had his fill of everything he desired.
If pleasure cannot deliver, what is it standing in for?
It is truly a dreary world of grief, where man seeks pleasure and mirth in place of happiness. That happiness cannot exist where the conscience is not purged in a divine way, and where the heart does not have Christ before it — God's object, and ours too.
- The test. Solomon tried everything that might make a man happy, and kept his wisdom so he could judge the results.
- The tester. He was talking to his own heart: "I will try to satisfy you." He worked through the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes and the pride of life.
- The verdict. Laughter is "mad" because it forgets God, the soul and eternity. It burns out like thorns crackling under a pot.
- The reason. The heart is too large for this world to fill. Pleasure leaves the soul thirstier, and take away the excitement and only the burden remains.
- The alternative. Mirth stands in for a happiness that cannot exist without a conscience purged in a divine way and Christ before the heart.
I searched in my heart how to cherish my flesh with wine, while practising my heart with wisdom; and how to lay hold on folly, till I should see what was that good for the children of men which they should do under the heavens all the days of their life.
Solomon ran an experiment on himself. He cheered himself with wine and reached for folly, yet kept his wisdom awake to judge the result. He was not after amusement. He wanted an answer: what is really worth doing in a short human life?
This search drives the whole book. It is fenced in by one phrase — "under the sun" — and it is a man's reasoning, not God's final word.
The first two or three verses give the subject of this book. "Vanity of vanities, says the Preacher, vanity of vanities! All is vanity. What does man gain by all the toil at which he toils under the sun?" This expression "under the sun" occurs no less than twenty-eight times in the twelve chapters, and gives the character of the book. It describes life "in Adam," and seeks an answer to the questions, What is best for man? how should he spend his life to be happy on earth? The writer speaks as a human philosopher in his wanderings. Sometimes he gets near the truth, at other times he is far from it. So some passages state man's false conclusions. The last two verses answer the searchings of Ecclesiastes 1:13 and 2:3.
One clause in the middle changes everything: his heart still guided him with wisdom. He kept a clear head while he tasted. So his verdict carries weight. Gaebelein quotes another writer's summary of the method and its result:
This is the experience of a man who keeps his wisdom, so that he can judge everything. He tries out everything under the sun that people might think could make them happy… The effect of this trial was the discovery that all is vanity and vexation of spirit; that every effort to be happy in possessing the earth, in whatever way it may be, ends in nothing. There is a worm eating at the root. The greater a man's capacity to enjoy, the deeper and wider his disappointment and grief of spirit.
Wine comes first on the list, and his own mother had already warned him against it. One writer reads the wine as standing for far more than a drink:
Did Solomon not know this without having to learn it by experience? Yet here again he ignored his mother's advice, as Ecclesiastes 2:3 tells us, and learned by painful experience that she was right… Wine stands for anything that only excites or stimulates for a time. Pleasure can intoxicate a man, as it did Solomon for a while. So can personal pride, money-making, and the many other things that stir the desires of the flesh. They can affect his thoughts so much that sound, sober judgment fails for a time.
The other half of the plan was to take hold of folly on purpose — to taste what is wrong and find out what it is like. People still try it:
We have known young Christians to go secretly to dances, theatres and worse places, to gain experience. How terrible! To eat of the tree of the knowledge of good and EVIL only brought evil results, and it will ever do so. Whoever goes in for sin (for just this once, not much harm in it, don't mean to practise it) does so at his or her peril. On these very lines Solomon in his happier days asks, "Can a man carry fire next to his chest and his clothes not be burned?"
This decision was carried through to the end, and Solomon was not the only one who paid for it.
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 built great works. He gathered riches. He did not just sip; he drank deeply from every sparkling cup. He tried every imaginable pleasure. He ruined his testimony, and wrecked much of his kingdom too. All this self-pleasing, all this piling up of every delightful thing, all this making everything serve himself — his aim was to be able to say, "So I was great."
He held nothing back, and still came up empty. The question of verse 3 stays open. No experiment under the sun can answer it.
Thank God! there is One who can still the hunger and thirst of the soul, who graciously invites, "If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink."
- Search. The verse asks what is good for a person to do in a short life. Only the book's closing words answer it.
- Sober. Solomon kept his wisdom as judge while he drank. No one can dismiss his verdict as the report of a clouded mind.
- Substitute. Wine stands for whatever excites for the moment — pleasure, pride, money-making. It clouds sound judgment while it lasts.
- Snare. Sampling folly to gain experience only brings evil results. Anyone who tries sin "just once" is handling fire.
- Satisfied. The experiment ran to the full and paid nothing. Only the One who invites the thirsty to come and drink can still that thirst.
I made me great works; I builded me houses; I planted me vineyards;
In Ecclesiastes 2 the king runs an experiment. He tries, one by one, everything life offers, and here he turns from pleasure to building — with the question whether great work can fill a human heart.
Solomon had already tried pleasure, and it came to nothing. The building projects are the next stage in the same search.
So he tries mirth next, a natural relief for those who are bitter in soul, as we hear in Proverbs 31. It was all in vain, and the feeling of disappointment returns (Ecclesiastes 2:1-3). Might not activity in great works succeed better? Solomon tried this and carried it out with extraordinary effort and splendour. But he looked back over all the work he did and the toil he toiled, and he could rest in none of it. It was all vanity and a striving after wind, with no profit under the sun.
The houses, vineyards and gardens were not random luxuries. One writer sorts the opening verses by the appetites of fallen human nature. Verses 4-6 belong to one of them.
Here we find first of all the king's personal experience. He experimented, so to speak, with what belongs to the natural man, a fallen nature. That nature holds three things: the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes and the pride of life. We can trace these three things in the opening verses. The lust of the flesh in verses 1-3; the lust of the eyes in verses 4-6, and the pride of life in verses 7-8… Then he made great works, built houses and planted vineyards. He laid out beautiful gardens with fruit trees and all kinds of shrubs, with pools of water, springs and waterfalls. It was all so pleasing to the eye — the lust of the eyes.
Solomon built for himself. Older translations repeat the word "me" in each line, and one writer makes that pronoun the key to the passage.
The result was that Solomon became extremely selfish. This too comes out in Ecclesiastes 2. Read the passage again, and notice how he puts it: "I made me… I built me… I planted me… I got me… I gathered me… So I was great." His life became one of self-gratification. It went so far that he might have said, "For me to live is — SELF." And the Apostle Paul? Well, in Philippians again we have his word, "For to me to live is — CHRIST" (Phil. 1:21). There is no greater contrast than a life lived for self and a life lived for Christ.
The same writer counts the pronoun and files the chapter alongside others in Scripture:
Ecclesiastes 2 is Solomon's "I" chapter: that personal pronoun occurs 16 times in the first 9 verses: a true chapter of the self-gratified "I."
The failure was not in the quality of the work. It lay in what Solomon was asking the work to do for him.
In Ecclesiastes, Solomon says, "There is no good thing under the sun"; "All is vanity and a striving after wind." Why so? To him, self was seeking its own satisfaction. Here, then, was no rest, no peace; it could not be otherwise. No human object could satisfy an immortal soul, nor could a dying man get rest in what he was to die out of. Yet, when thinking of himself, it was all I, I, I — I did it, and I found it vanity… As someone has said, in Ecclesiastes the heart was too great for the object. In the Song of Songs the object is too great for the heart.
The building had to be paid for, and the nation paid the bill.
Solomon tells us in his own words of the many public works he took an interest in. Houses, vineyards, gardens, orchards, and so on — never had the nation seen the like! … But there was no satisfaction for his heart… He built new cities and rebuilt others (1 Kings 9:17-19). But all this meant heavy taxation. In time the people groaned under the burden. Solomon groaned with a disappointed heart.
A man with no interest in God could say the same words. The achievement settles nothing about him:
Solomon says in Ecclesiastes 2:4: "I made great works. I built houses and planted vineyards for myself." Ahab could have said the same. But what blessing did he get out of it all?
Solomon's failure was not wasted. He lived to publish the results, so that nobody else needs to repeat the trial.
Thank God, before Solomon ended his career his eyes were opened and he was led to write this striking book in which he puts on record the results of the experiment… Listen to what he says: I have investigated on a grand scale — on a scale that 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 not a bit of profit in it. There is "no profit under the sun."
And the hunger the gardens could not feed has an answer elsewhere:
Thank God! there is One who can still the hunger and thirst of the soul. He graciously invites, "If anyone thirsts, let him come to Me and drink."
- The attempt — Pleasure had already failed. So Solomon asked whether great work would do better. He built with unmatched splendour and could rest in none of it.
- The appetite — The houses, vineyards and gardens fed the lust of the eyes. They were part of an experiment run on fallen human nature.
- The giveaway — "I made me… I built me… I planted me": the repeated pronoun marks a life that could say, "For me to live is self."
- The reason — No human object can satisfy an immortal soul. No dying man finds rest in what he must die out of. The heart was too great for the object.
- The result — The people groaned under the taxes. Solomon groaned with disappointment: "no profit under the sun." The thirst he could not fill is met in the One who invites the thirsty to come and drink.
I made me gardens and parks, and I planted trees in them of every kind of fruit;
Solomon's building programme reaches its high point here. A king with unlimited money and skill set out to make himself a paradise on earth. This book records what he found when he looked at it.
The Hebrew word translated "orchards" or "parks" is rare, and it is the ancestor of a word every reader knows. One writer traces it carefully:
"Paradise" is an Eastern word for a "park" or "pleasure-grounds." The Hebrew word pardes appears only in Nehemiah 2:8, Ecclesiastes 2:5 and Song of Songs 4:13. It is translated there once as "forest" and twice as "orchard." Hebrew does not use it for the garden of Eden; there the ordinary word for "garden," gan, appears. The Greek translation of the Old Testament, however, gives paradeisos (paradise) here. That is almost always the word it uses for the Garden of Eden, or of God. The New Testament use comes from that Greek version, but with a higher meaning: "today you will be with me in paradise" (Luke 23:43), and "the tree of life, which is in the paradise of God" (Revelation 2:7).
So Solomon was making himself a paradise: Eden planted again by his own hand.
The gardens were not idle landscaping. They belong to a deliberate experiment, and one writer sorts the whole passage into three appetites:
Here we find first of all the king's personal experience. He experimented, so to speak, with what belongs to the natural man, a fallen nature. That nature holds three things: the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes and the pride of life. We can trace these three things in the opening verses. The lust of the flesh is in verses 1-3. The lust of the eyes is in verses 4-6. The pride of life is in verses 7-8. … Then he made great works, built houses, planted vineyards, laid out beautiful gardens with fruit trees, all kinds of shrubbery, with pools of water, springs and waterfalls — all so pleasing to the eye — the lust of the eyes.
There is nothing wrong with a garden. The tragedy is that the man walking in it is no longer what he was made to be:
As God first created 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. Everything around him would have given him pleasure, or the chance to develop all his powers. Is that the case now? … Man is like a beautiful ruin. Traces of exquisite workmanship remain here and there, and by them we can contrast the architect's clear design with the building's present state. So in man's feelings and powers we can see what he was first capable of, though we must admit he is a wreck.
Solomon poured skill, wealth and effort into these projects. The result matched everything else he had tried:
Might not activity in great works succeed better? Solomon tried this and carried it out with extraordinary care and splendour. But he looked back over all the work he did and the toil he toiled, and he could rest in none of it. The whole was vanity and a striving after wind, and no profit under the sun.
Solomon's failure went on record on purpose, so nobody has to repeat it:
He was not inspired in doing what he did, but he was certainly inspired to put the result of the experiment on record. Listen to what he says: I have investigated on a grand scale — on a scale that 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 not a bit of profit in it.
If gardens, pools and fruit trees left the wisest man empty, the problem is not the quantity of the supply but the size of the container:
Solomon says, "All streams run to the sea, but the sea is not full" (Ecclesiastes 1:7). The sea is the human heart. Pour every river of earthly pleasure into those discontented hearts, and they would still remain unfilled and unsatisfied. Men hunt for satisfaction where it never can be found. An iceberg yields no heat, salt no sweetness, and wine cannot be pressed from turnips. Man's heart was made for God, and only God, in Christ, can fill and satisfy it.
The same writer names the One who meets that need:
Thank God! There is One who can still the hunger and thirst of the soul. He graciously invites, "If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink."
- Plant. Solomon's gardens and fruit trees were one stage of a planned experiment in what a fallen nature wants — here, "the lust of the eyes."
- Paradise. The word for "parks" is pardes, the root of "paradise". Solomon was building his own Eden, but that name belongs to the paradise of God.
- Ruin. God made man to find pure delight on earth. Man is now a beautiful ruin, and no landscaping repairs a wreck.
- Proof. He had a hundred per cent of what most people get one per cent of. Looking back, he could rest in none of it — no profit under the sun.
- Rest. Every river of earthly pleasure leaves the heart unfilled. God made it for Himself, and Christ still invites the thirsty to come and drink.
I made me ponds of water, to water therewith the wood, where the trees are reared.
Solomon dug reservoirs and piped the water to a whole wood of young trees. The verse raises a question every generation asks again: can beautiful surroundings ever satisfy the heart?
One word keeps returning through these verses. Commentators have counted it.
Ecclesiastes 2 is Solomon's "I" chapter: that personal pronoun occurs 16 times in the first 9 verses — a true chapter of the self-gratified "I."
Gaebelein sorts these verses by the appetite they feed. The pools and the wood they watered were made to please the eye.
He experimented with what belongs to the natural man, a fallen nature. In that nature there are three things: the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life. The lust of the flesh is in verses 1-3. The lust of the eyes is in verses 4-6. The pride of life is in verses 7-8… Then he made great works, built houses, planted vineyards, laid out beautiful gardens with fruit trees and all kinds of shrubbery, with pools of water, springs and waterfalls — all so pleasing to the eye.
Wine and laughter had already failed him. So he changed method: if pleasure could not fill him, work might. The pools are part of that second attempt.
Might not activity in great works succeed better? Solomon tried this and carried it out with extraordinary diligence and splendour. But when he looked back over all the work he had done and all the toil it cost him, he could rest in none of it. The whole thing was vanity and frustration of spirit, with no profit under the sun.
Mawson traces this instinct back further. The first man left God's garden, and people have been building their own ever since.
He brought out of that earthly paradise a craving for beautiful surroundings, and he has worked without stopping to get them. But if God's garden did not satisfy him, his own certainly cannot. And in his own garden there is always a tomb to mock his best efforts.
Verse 6 waters trees that are still growing. That is planting for a future the planter may not live to see.
The misery of it is just this. A man has laboured for years, and he naturally expects to enjoy what he, not others, has piled up. But death comes in and takes him away, so he leaves all the fruit of his labour for another to enjoy.
This failure is not one man's bad luck. Kelly sets Solomon's experiment against the world before sin, and against the One still to come.
It was not like this before sin entered the world. On the contrary, God saw everything that He had made, and it was very good. Once sin was there, God made the evil felt. The result is laid bare here by the clearest picture of the One who will yet come in power, glory and righteousness, and bring the days of heaven on the earth.
The book is not just a list of failed experiments. It leaves one door open.
In it I see one way, but one only, open to us as an escape from the condition and from the sense of a universal vanity. We are "shut up" to it… Faith in Jesus, says the apostle, is the one and only outlet from a state of condemnation. Living to Jesus, says the Book of Ecclesiastes, is the one and only outlet from a state of vanity.
The man with the reservoirs was still thirsty. Gaebelein points to the only water that ends that thirst.
Thank God, there is One who can still the hunger and thirst of the soul. He kindly invites, "If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink."
- "I made myself" — "I" appears sixteen times in the first nine verses of this chapter. The real project is the self; the landscape is only the material.
- The eye — verses 4-6 feed the lust of the eyes: gardens, shrubs, pools and waterfalls, all pleasing to look at.
- The labour — when pleasure failed, Solomon turned to great works. He built with splendour and could rest in none of it.
- The heir — the young trees grow, but death takes the planter. The fruit of his labour goes to someone who never worked for it.
- The thirst — if God's garden did not satisfy man, his own garden cannot, and it always has a tomb in it. The one way out is living to Jesus, who invites the thirsty to come and drink.
I acquired servants and maidens, and had servants born in my house; also I had great possessions of herds and flocks, above all that had been in Jerusalem before me.
Solomon's list of possessions keeps growing: servants, herds, flocks. Why was a king piling all this up? And did any of it satisfy him?
Solomon's throne gave him the means to test what most people can only guess at.
Solomon was lifted high, so that from his position and resources he could inspect and test the vanity of all human conditions. Everything that business or pleasure could provide for him was within his reach. So was everything that wealth, position, or learning commanded. And he challenged it all to say what it was worth.
One writer traces a pattern through the opening verses of the chapter. The servants and possessions come at one stage of it.
He experimented, so to speak, with what belongs to the natural man, a fallen nature. That nature holds three things: the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes and the pride of life. We can trace these three things in the opening verses. The lust of the flesh comes in verses 1-3. The lust of the eyes in verses 4-6. The pride of life in verses 7-8… To all this he added servants and maidens, with great possessions.
Where did all these servants come from, and who paid for them?
Solomon pressed the Amorites, Hittites, Perizzites, and others left in the land into service (1 Kings 9:20). He built new cities and rebuilt others (1 Kings 9:17-19). But all this meant heavy taxation. In time the people groaned under the burden, while Solomon groaned with heart disappointment. The load of taxation probably made the people ask Rehoboam to make their service less harsh and their yoke lighter (1 Kings 12:4). Men will not complain like that when the Lord reigns in Zion.
Behind the herds and flocks stands the man. One writer names the aim of the whole collection.
He turned to wine — a dangerous thing. He married wives. He carried out great works. He gathered riches. He did not only sip; he drank deeply from every sparkling cup. He tried every pleasure he could imagine. He not only ruined his testimony; he wrecked much of his kingdom too. He heaped up every delightful thing for himself and made everything serve himself. His aim in all this self-gratification was to be able to say, "So I was great."
God had set limits for Israel's kings. The same writer shows what ignoring them cost.
He multiplied horses and wives and riches. He did the three things the king was told not to do, and did them openly and without shame. All this building up of self rests on one idea: that the way to live is to get everything possible for your own pleasure. The consequence is solemn. It traps you in disobedience, and you forfeit the support of God. Solomon did not act in ignorance of God's Word. It was simply staring him in the face, which made what he did all the more shocking.
Solomon put real energy and skill into these works. Here is how it ended.
Might activity in great works do better? Solomon attempted this and carried it out with extraordinary diligence and splendour. But then he reviewed all the work he had done and all the toil it had cost him. He could rest in none of it. The whole thing was vanity, a chasing after the wind, with nothing to be gained under the sun (verses 4-11).
Why could none of it satisfy him?
To him, self was seeking its own satisfaction. So here was no rest, no peace; it could not be otherwise. No human object could satisfy an immortal soul, and a dying man could get no rest in something he was going to die out of. When he thought of himself, it was all I, I, I — I did it, and I found it vanity. But in the Song of Songs we see all his blessedness, because there he speaks of Christ being everything to him. As someone has said: in Ecclesiastes the heart was too great for the object; in the Song the object is too great for the heart.
- Scale. Solomon had resources no ordinary person has. His verdict on wealth is tested, not guessed.
- Possession. The servants, herds and flocks mark the pride-of-life stage of his search. He gathered them all so he could say, "So I was great."
- Cost. Forced labour and heavy taxes paid for the splendour. The people groaned under the burden while the king groaned with disappointment.
- Consequence. Solomon did the very things God told Israel's kings not to do. Building up self traps a man in disobedience and forfeits God's support.
- Verdict. He looked over it all and could rest in none of it. An immortal soul cannot be filled by what a dying man must leave behind. The heart was too great for the object.
I gathered me also silver and gold, and the peculiar treasure of kings and of the provinces; I got me men-singers and women-singers, and the delights of the children of men, a wife and concubines.
Solomon's list of possessions peaks here: silver and gold, tribute from kings and provinces, trained singers, and more. Two questions follow. What does the last phrase describe? And did a man who could buy anything end up owning anything worth having?
Older versions call this "the peculiar treasure." The term is not a general word for wealth. It marks a possession valued above all others.
Ecclesiastes 2:8 is the one exception, where Solomon gathers "the peculiar treasure of kings." Everywhere else, in the Old Testament and in the New Testament, these expressions refer to what God's people are to Him: Exodus 19:5; Deuteronomy 14:2; Psalm 135:4; Titus 2:14. The terms describe a possession of specially choice value.
Solomon takes the word Scripture uses for God's own people and puts it on his treasury.
One writer traces three appetites of the fallen nature through the chapter. This verse falls in the last of them.
In that fallen nature there are three things: the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes and the pride of life. We can trace all three in the opening verses. The lust of the flesh comes in verses 1-3, the lust of the eyes in verses 4-6, and the pride of life in verses 7-8… He gathered silver and gold and treasures that only kings could get. These were gifts, probably from other rulers, perhaps the ones the Queen of Sheba brought. He also paid attention to music, had men singers, women singers, and an orchestra. Then, self-satisfied, he leans back and says, "So I was great."
Commentators differ over the closing words. The ESV reads them as "many concubines, the delight of the sons of man." One writer gives both options: music, or many wives.
…the delights of the sons of men, that is, musical instruments of all sorts [or, as it may also be translated, and perhaps more correctly, "a wife and wives," that is, many wives].
If that second reading stands, this verse shows Solomon breaking the rules written for Israel's kings.
He multiplied horses and wives and riches. He openly did the three things the king was told not to do. All this self-glorifying rests on the idea that the way to live is to get everything you can for your own pleasure. The result is solemn. You are trapped into disobedience and you lose the support of God. Solomon did not act in ignorance of God's Word. It was staring him in the face, so what he did was outrageous.
Read the surrounding verses aloud and one small word keeps returning. The verbs change; the object never does.
The result was that Solomon became very selfish. This too comes out clearly in Ecclesiastes 2. Read the passage again, and note how he puts it: "I made me… I built me… I planted me… I got me… I gathered me… So I was great." His life became one of self-gratification. He might almost have said, "For me to live is — SELF." And the Apostle Paul? In Philippians we have his word, "For to me to live is — CHRIST" (Philippians 1:21). Nothing contrasts more sharply than a life lived for self and a life lived for Christ.
Solomon did not guess at the results. He ran the trial with resources no one else has ever had.
Thank God, before Solomon ended his career his eyes were opened. He was led to write this striking book, which records the results of the experiment. God did not inspire him in doing what he did, but He did inspire him to record the result. Listen to what he says: I have investigated on a grand scale, a scale that others can never touch. Others might have one per cent of it; I have had the whole hundred per cent. The verdict is that there is not a bit of profit in it. There is "no profit under the sun."
The failure was not in the quality of what he gathered. It was in what a human heart is built to hold.
You could pour every river of earthly pleasure into discontented human hearts, and they would still be empty and unsatisfied. Men hunt for satisfaction where it never can be found. An iceberg yields no heat, salt no sweetness, and wine cannot be pressed from turnips. Man's heart was made for God, and only God, in Christ, can fill and satisfy it. Riches, fame, pleasure, all fail to bring contentment to the heart.
- Gathered — the word for "treasure" is the one Scripture keeps for God's own prized people. Solomon used it for his vaults.
- Grand — singers and royal tribute mark the peak of the pride of life. The closing phrase means either music or many wives.
- Forbidden — horses, wives and riches were the three things Israel's king was told not to multiply. Solomon knew the text.
- Self — every line runs "I made me… I got me," and the whole life adds up to "So I was great."
- Empty — the man who had one hundred per cent of what money can buy returned the verdict "no profit." Only God fills a heart made for God.
And I became great, and increased more than all that had been before me in Jerusalem also my wisdom remained with me.
Solomon reaches the peak of his experiment here. He rises above everyone before him in Jerusalem, and his wisdom stays with him the whole way. So the verse raises a sharp question. If a man can have everything and still think clearly, what does he make of it?
Solomon's boast in this verse is not a stray remark. One writer reads it as the goal behind all the building, buying and collecting.
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 only sip; he drank deeply of every sparkling cup. He tried every imaginable pleasure. He not only ruined his testimony; he wrecked much of his kingdom. All this self-indulgence, all this piling up of every delightful thing, made everything serve himself. His aim was to be able to say, "So I became great."
The second half of the verse matters as much as the first. His judgment stayed sharp the whole way through. So no one can write off his verdict as the complaint of a man who lost his head.
Such was the wide range of pleasures, intellectual and physical, that he explored. He held back no joy from himself. Yet even while he threw himself into all that he describes, he tells us his wisdom remained with him. So he was fully able to judge what all this was worth. He had lived it, and his wisdom never left him. Would not such a man be satisfied with what this life could give? If others less favoured were disappointed, he at least had his fill of everything he desired.
The list running up to this verse is not random. One commentator traces a pattern through it. It ends at the self-satisfied pause this verse records.
Here we find first of all the king's personal experience. He experimented, so to speak, with what belongs to the natural man, a fallen nature. In that nature are found three things: the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes and the pride of life. We can trace these three things in the opening verses… Then he made great works. He built houses, planted vineyards, and laid out beautiful gardens with fruit trees and all kinds of shrubbery. He added pools of water, springs and waterfalls — all so pleasing to the eye — the lust of the eyes. To all this he added male and female servants, with great possessions… Then he leans back, self-satisfied, and says, "So I became great and surpassed all who were before me in Jerusalem. Also my wisdom remained with me."
If anyone had grounds to escape the sense of emptiness, it was this king. That is why his report is worth reading.
What gives special point to it is the personal position of the Preacher. Could anyone look at man as he is on the earth and be free from the sense of misery? If anyone could, we would have expected it to be king Solomon. It is his appraisal in the Spirit which lies before us, so that faith might profit by all he tells. It does not come from any lack of power, interest, or research, or from any lack of ability or resources… The sense of its emptiness, and the sorrow over its evil, ran all the deeper in the man who could best appreciate it all.
Solomon's greatness came from what he gathered. One writer names a different gain, and it comes from a life lived before God.
Now godliness means this: being conscious of God, living under the eye of God, having God as the trust and the glory of our hearts. Godliness, with the contentment that flows from it, is great gain.
Solomon's glory did not last. Even at its height it pointed beyond itself.
Solomon's own folly soon put out the blaze of his glory. Even so, it already reminds us that "a greater than Solomon" is in the mind and purpose of God.
- Aim — Solomon made everything he built, bought and gathered serve himself, so that he could say, "So I became great."
- Advantage — His wisdom stayed with him the whole way, so he could judge what it was all worth.
- Appetite — The list traces three appetites: the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes and the pride of life. It ends with a man leaning back, self-satisfied.
- Verdict — If anyone could have escaped the sense of emptiness, it was this king. Instead the man best able to appreciate it all felt it most deeply.
- Alternative — Solomon's greatness rested on what he gathered. Godliness with contentment, lived under the eye of God, is great gain. It points on to the One greater than Solomon.
And whatsoever mine eyes desired I kept not from them I withheld not my heart from any joy; for my heart rejoiced in all my labour, and this was my portion from all my labour.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
Then I looked on all the works that my hands had wrought, and on the labour that it had cost me to do [them]; and behold, all was vanity and pursuit of the wind, and there was no profit under the sun.
Solomon stops building and starts counting. The ledger comes back empty. It raises a sharp question. If the man who could buy anything gained nothing, what are the rest of us hoping to find?
The verse is a backward glance. The writers here quote an older translation: where the ESV has "a striving after wind" and "nothing to be gained," it reads "vexation of spirit" and "no profit." One writer notices that the joy Solomon described a line earlier is already in the past tense.
Notice that when Solomon wrote about his rejoicing he used the past tense. He did not say, "my heart rejoices," but, "my heart rejoiced." Then we look at the very next verse, and we find him saying, "All was vanity and vexation of spirit, and there was no profit under the sun." His disillusionment was complete.
This is not the complaint of a man who never got his chance. Solomon ran the test with resources no reader will match, and he published the findings himself.
Thank God, before Solomon ended his career God opened his eyes and led him to write this striking book. In it he puts on record the results of the experiment. Listen to what he says: I have investigated on a grand scale — on a scale that 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 not a bit of profit in it. There is "no profit under the sun."
The pleasures and building projects earlier in the chapter fall into a pattern. One writer sorts them into three appetites of fallen human nature.
Here we find first of all the king's personal experience. He experimented, so to speak, with what belongs to the natural man — a fallen nature. That nature holds three things: the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes and the pride of life. We can trace these three things in the opening verses. The lust of the flesh in verses 1-3; the lust of the eyes in verses 4-6, and the pride of life in verses 7-8.
The failure was structural, not accidental. The pronouns in the chapter give it away — the whole survey circles back on the man who made it.
In Ecclesiastes, Solomon says, "There is no good thing under the sun"; "All is vanity and vexation of spirit." Why so? To him, self was seeking its own satisfaction. Here, then, was no rest, no peace; it could not be otherwise. No human object could satisfy an immortal soul, nor could a dying man get rest in what he was to die out of. Yet, when he thought of himself, it was all I, I, I — I did it, and I found it vanity. But in the Song of Solomon we see all his blessedness, because there he speaks of Christ being everything to him. It has been said that in Ecclesiastes the heart was too great for the object. In the Song of Solomon the object is too great for the heart.
Commentators differ slightly on the register of the complaint. Others read the same verdict less as personal regret and more as an honest man feeling the wreckage sin has left in the world — "not the experience of the sinner reaping the fruit of what he has sown, but one of the old creation (though a sinner himself) feeling the ruin and disorder sin has brought on the earth" (C. E. Stuart).
"Profit" is a running word in this book, and the New Testament picks it up and turns it over.
The word "profit" occurs several times in the book of Ecclesiastes. The Lord Jesus has ruled that if a man should gain the whole world, and lose his own soul, he would not be profited (Matt. 16:26). "But godliness with contentment is great gain" (1 Tim. 6:6). The man who penned these words found more than contentment — he found satisfaction, in Christ… The things that appealed to Solomon — gold, buildings, women, and so on — had no appeal to the apostle. Having them in such abundance and combination was in the end his undoing. Poor he might be, persecuted and despised, but he delighted to say, "To me to live is Christ" (Phil. 1:21). Let Paul be our model, not Solomon.
If everything under the sun fails the test, the search must change direction, not effort.
Yes, the one who knew it by experience and wrote it by inspiration has called "all" — without any exception — "under the sun" "vanity and vexation of spirit." Turn where you will "under the sun" and you will not find anything on which the heart can rest. You must rise on the steady and vigorous wing of faith to regions "above the sun," to find "a better and an enduring substance."… None but Jesus can give "substance." None but He can "fill." None but He can "satisfy."
- Full test. Solomon ran the experiment at one hundred per cent, on a scale no reader can reach, so nobody needs to repeat it.
- Full verdict. His joy is past tense before the review ends. The disillusionment was complete.
- The reason. Self was seeking its own satisfaction, and a dying man cannot rest in what he must die out of.
- The word. Scripture answers "no profit" under the sun with "great gain" — godliness with contentment.
- The direction. The search is not wrong; the altitude is. Nothing under the sun can fill the heart — only Christ can.