[One] generation passeth away, and [another] generation cometh, but the earth standeth for ever.
Solomon points to something anyone can see. People come and go, while the ground under their feet stays. Why record that plain fact as a complaint? And does an earth that lasts give a man anything at all?
This verse starts the evidence for the book's opening claim. One commentator maps the structure:
Four pictures from nature follow the thesis (verses 4-7), and just as many from the moral side (verses 8-11).
The book's subject is not the same as in Psalm 32 and Psalm 51:
This book does not discuss guilt, as Psalm 32 and Psalm 51 do. It deals with the unhappiness of a man whose heart never rises above created things. The fullest means, the highest ability, the highest rank, the most active mind, the finest taste — yes, and wisdom above all men — only make the dissatisfaction and the misery sharper. Solomon lived through it when he turned away from God. Grace later let him review it all and pass the profit of it on to us, as a warning that lasts forever.
The verse before asked what a man gains from all his work. This verse gives the reason the question needs no answer:
He takes up the busy, hard-working man. This man finds plenty to do, is happy doing it, and is caught up in the business of life. But why this cry from the Preacher, who "sought to find words of delight"? And why does he look at things so sadly? The secret comes out. "A generation goes, and a generation comes, but the earth remains forever." The earth stays; man does not. So the question needs no answer: "What profit?"
Ecclesiastes has its own angle on death:
Death is the wages of sin, but it is not viewed in this aspect in Ecclesiastes. Solomon does not dwell on how death entered the world. He dwells on its presence here, like a worm at the root of the tree of pleasure… What takes place after death is another matter; other scriptures set that forth. This book looks at death from this side of the grave. It shows how death separates a man from the fruits of all his work, just when he thinks he is about to reap them.
The sting is sharper because man is not merely part of the scenery. He outranks the soil, and still it outlasts him:
There is all the difference between the lifeless earth and what has life upon the earth or in it. But what a gap between a creature that feels and one that only grows! The gap is greater still between what has only natural life and the human body into which the LORD God breathed the breath of life. By that breath man, and man alone, became a living soul. As this very book puts it, "the spirit of man goes upward and the spirit of the beast goes down into the earth" (Ecclesiastes 3:21). Yet "a generation goes, and a generation comes, but the earth remains forever." What is there here to meet the void of man's heart?
Nature repeats itself, and the repeating teaches the same lesson as the passing generations:
The work begun is never perfected. Things in heaven and things on earth proclaim this… Each day the work is done, only to be repeated the next. Each year retraces the course it has already run… So nature would teach him, if he looked at it properly, that no one can find lasting rest here yet.
One writer shows both the limit of this endless round and the way past it:
The generations pass, and they do not return. If they do return, experience knows nothing about it. So the bat's wing of death throws its dark and sinister shadow over everything. What lies beyond? "Who knows?" Here only God, who is light, can give light. Revelation is our one source of certainty. Then, indeed, the wheel still turns; but the wheel of fate becomes the chariot-wheel of God, as in Ezekiel.
One writer looks on to the earth's final and eternal state, where these words come true:
"You have established the earth, and it stands fast" (Psalm 119:90); "but the earth remains forever" (Ecclesiastes 1:4). In that state these divine statements are fulfilled. Many Christians have a very vague idea of the eternal state of the earth and the home of the redeemed. They think of it as a spiritual state with no location. But it is not so. The earth and the heaven abide as definite places throughout all eternity.
- Thesis. The verse is the first of four pictures from nature that back up Solomon's question about profit.
- Contrast. The earth stays, man goes — and that single comparison is why the question needs no answer.
- Death. Here death is not traced to its cause. It is felt as the thing that cuts a man off from the fruit he was about to enjoy.
- Void. Man ranks far above the ground he walks on, yet the endless round of generations leaves his heart empty.
- Light. Left to itself the wheel just turns. Revelation alone makes the wheel of fate the chariot-wheel of God.
The sun also riseth, and the sun goeth down, and hasteth to its place where it ariseth.
The sun's daily round is one of several pictures Ecclesiastes takes from nature. The question is not whether the world runs in good order. It does. The question is whether all that faithful motion ever gets anywhere, or gives a man anything worth having.
This verse belongs to a run of pictures in verses 4–11. They all make one observation about how the world moves.
Verses 4–11 sound the first note about vanity. There is a law of repetition, or circle-movement. It works in nature as well as in human life. Generation follows generation. The sun has his circle. The winds too have their currents, and they blow from north to south and south to north. The waters are under the same law. History repeats itself... There is then nothing new under the sun. Nothing is new. All is repetition, a dull sameness that never changes. Man is in the middle of it, and he too is under this law.
The sun works all day. Each evening it ends where it started. One writer hears in that what all creation says about human labour.
Death robs a man of enjoying the fruits of his work. And his life and everything around him speaks of endless, repeated labour too. The work begun is never finished. Things in heaven and things on earth proclaim this… Each day the work is done, only to be done again the next day. Each year the sun travels once more the course it has already travelled.
One writer points the reader to the object that rules the sky. What does it do for the man standing under it?
Let him look up then at the sun. It is the brightest object a man can see, and to his senses it gives light and heat above all else. Without it, what would the earth be, and all who live on it, and most of all man? What profit, or happiness, does he get from it, as he looks up from under it?… Its movement in relation to the earth is clearly orderly and never fails. But does that touch a man's sense that everything in him and around him is passing away? Or does it only make that sense worse?
The sun of this verse gives the book its most repeated phrase. It marks the limit of what Ecclesiastes looks at.
This expression comes twenty-nine times in this book. What is "under the sun" is on the earth. And there is, of course, something above the sun: heaven, the heavenly things. Ecclesiastes then deals with earthly things, with what man does apart from God — that is, the natural man. The writer makes his method clear. In all his searching and describing of the things under the sun, 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… Ecclesiastes is in the Bible for one purpose: to show the natural man the hollowness and vanity of everything under the sun, and to convince him by that to seek and find what is better, what is above the sun.
The sun's unbroken round is not only wearying repetition. Another writer points to the same motion as evidence — evidence no man can tamper with.
Creation in all its parts declares the eternal power and divinity of God. And it is highly significant that the inspired writer of Psalm 19 speaks of parts of creation which man has no power to touch or corrupt. He speaks of the unceasing procession of day and night, and of the perpetual circuit of the sun. In God's estimate, this witness to His power and divinity is so powerful and convincing that it leaves men without excuse.
Observation alone cannot tell you where the turning wheel of days and generations is heading.
So "for everything there is a season" — and only a season. But the generations pass and do not return… Beyond that, who knows? Here God, who is light, can alone give light; and revelation is our one source of certainty. Then, indeed, the wheel still turns; but the wheel of destiny becomes the chariot-wheel of God.
That has a practical shape. One writer compares Ecclesiastes with what the apostle teaches about escape from condemnation.
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 way out of a state of condemnation. Living to Jesus, says the Book of Ecclesiastes, is the one and only way out of a state of vanity.
- Circle. The sun's rising and setting is one of four pictures of a law of repetition. It rules nature, history, and man himself.
- Labour. The circle is busy but never finished. Each day's work is done only to be done again the next day. Nature itself says you will find no lasting rest here.
- Limit. "Under the sun" names the viewpoint: earth without revelation, a man reasoning from his own resources.
- Light. The very same circuit, seen from above the sun, is a witness to God's power that men cannot corrupt or excuse away.
- Outlet. Revelation turns the wheel of destiny into the chariot-wheel of God. Living to Jesus is the one way out of a life of vanity.
The wind goeth towards the south, and turneth about towards the north it turneth about continually, and the wind returneth again to its circuits.
Ecclesiastes 1:6 is the third of four pictures drawn from nature. The wind swings south, then north, then circles back — so is there anything here for a restless heart to rest on?
The book does not argue its opening claim. It illustrates it, in two matching sets.
Four illustrations from nature follow the thesis (verses 4-7), and just as many from the moral world (verses 8-11).
The wind stands third, after the passing generations and the circling sun, and before the rivers.
The Hebrew word here does double duty — it is also the word for the highest, thinking part of a person. Its movement is unlike anything on the ground. So of the four pictures, this one looks the most likely to answer a man's unrest.
But what about the wind? The Hebrew word for wind is also the word for the highest part of feeling and even thinking nature. Its movements stand in the sharpest contrast with earthly motion. Is there any relief there for his tired spirit? ... There is nothing here to console his anxious spirit.
The wind is one case of a wider rule. Man is caught inside that rule too.
The first note about vanity is found in verses 4-11. There is a law of repetition, or circle-movement. It works in the sphere of nature as well as in human life. Generation follows generation; the sun has his circle; the winds too have their currents in which they blow from north to south and south to north; the waters also are subject to the same law. History repeats itself... Nothing is new; all is repetition, a monotonous sameness. Man is in the middle of it; he too is subject to this law. Everything under the sun is restless, unstable (except the earth itself, which abides forever: verse 4), hollow and empty, therefore all is vanity. Here is a picture of unrest, weariness, if not melancholy and despair.
The problem is not idleness. The problem is labour that never finishes.
A man's life and all that surrounds him speaks of ceaseless and repeated labour. The work begun is never perfected. Things in heaven and things on earth proclaim this... Each day the work gets done, only to be done again the next day. Each year it travels the same course again.
Seen the right way, nature itself is teaching a lesson.
Nature would teach him, if he looked at it the right way, that here, as yet, he can enjoy no lasting rest. Life is a busy scene.
One commentator pictures this circling as a turning wheel. God Himself set it turning — and that is exactly what perplexes.
In the book of Ecclesiastes we find the wheel in motion, but we do not see that it is the wheel of God's triumphal chariot. On the contrary, "vanity of vanities" is written on it; and that God has ordained the wheel is the cause of infinite perplexity.
What changes the picture is not new evidence from nature but light from outside it.
Here God, who is light, can alone give light; and revelation is our one source of certainty. Then, indeed, the wheel still turns; but the wheel of destiny becomes the chariot-wheel of God, as in Ezekiel.
If the circuit gives nothing, the search must move higher.
Turn where you will "under the sun" and you will not find anything the heart can rest on. You must rise on the steady and vigorous wing of faith to regions "above the sun," to find "a better and enduring substance"... None but Jesus can give substance. None but He can fill. None but He can satisfy. Christ's perfect work meets the deepest need of conscience. His glorious Person can satisfy the most earnest longings of the heart.
- Circuit — The wind's swing south and north is one of four pictures from nature (verses 4-7). It sits between the circling sun and the rivers.
- Spirit — The word for wind is also the word for the highest part of a person. Yet the freest mover in creation only goes round. It offers a tired spirit nothing.
- Repetition — The same law rules the wind, history and human life. It is a law of circle-movement, and man is inside it.
- Unfinished — The work begun is never completed. Each day and each year retraces the same course. Nature itself teaches that nothing here gives lasting rest.
- Above — God ordained the wheel. Without revelation that fact only perplexes. With it, the wheel of destiny becomes God's chariot-wheel — and the heart looks above the sun for what nothing under it can give.
All the rivers run into the sea, yet the sea is not full unto the place whither the rivers go, thither they go again.
Solomon watches the water. Streams pour into the sea, and the sea never rises. It is motion without gain. If nature itself runs in a closed circle, where can anyone find something that lasts?
Verse 7 completes a short list. Generations, the sun, the wind, and now the waters all follow one pattern.
The first note of vanity comes in verses 4-11. There is a law of repetition, or circle-movement. It works in the sphere of nature as well as in human life. Generation follows generation. The sun runs its circle. The winds have their currents, blowing from north to south and south to north. The waters follow the same law too. History repeats itself: what has been is what will be, and what is done is what will be done. So there is nothing new under the sun. Nothing is new. It is all repetition, a dull sameness. Man is caught in it too; he is under the same law.
The verse describes what we now call the water cycle. Writers note that Solomon stated the balance long before anyone could measure it.
"All the rivers run into the sea yet the sea is not full: to the place where the rivers come, there they return again." Even Solomon's sharp observations could not have led him to know that evaporation is equal to the rainfall.
The system works. That is the point: it serves the earth well and gives nothing to the man watching it.
There remain the rivers or mountain streams: can they refresh a mind that is sick? "All streams run to the sea, but the sea is not full; to the place where the streams flow, there they flow again." Admirable for the earth and its atmosphere and every living creature; but not a drop of comfort for the man God made in His own image, after His likeness. All creation is now ruined and wretched through sin, all of it subject to vanity, groaning and suffering together until now. Man, its chief, feels and laments this most of all — unless he turns away from God and gives himself up to the dream of being perfected by education and science.
Commentators turn the image inward. The sea that swallows every river and stays level is a portrait of what a person is like.
Solomon says, "All streams run to the sea, but the sea is not full." The sea is the human heart. If you could direct into those discontented hearts every river of earthly pleasure, they would still remain unfilled, unsatisfied. Men hunt for satisfaction where it never can be found. An iceberg yields no heat, salt no sweetness, and you cannot press wine from turnips. Man's heart was made for God, and only God, in Christ, can fill and satisfy it.
Another writer names the reason for the failure. The heart is the wrong size for what the world pours into it.
As all the rivers run into the sea, and yet the sea is not full, so all the waters of this world's resources may flow into the heart of man and he remains unsatisfied. His heart is too big for the world; for he was created for God, and God alone can satisfy his thirst. The world's pleasure cannot give him lasting joy, and its religion cannot save his soul or lift it up.
One phrase runs through the whole book, and it explains the bleak verdict.
The 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, and at other times he is far from it. The direct teaching from God comes in the last few verses of the book.
Against a sea that never fills, the New Testament sets a different kind of water — one that ends thirst instead of feeding it.
The Lord, in His reply, contrasts the water which occupied the woman's thoughts with the living water of which He was speaking. The water of the well, like all earthly joys of which it is the symbol, can never satisfy. Money, pleasure, ambition, duties and earthly relationships, if you pursue them, may give a moment's distraction or a brief pleasure. They give no lasting satisfaction. "Everyone who does not know Christ has either a disappointed heart, or a heart seeking what will disappoint it" (J.N.D.).
- Circle. Generations, sun, wind and rivers move in a fixed loop. Constant motion, no progress, "nothing new under the sun."
- Sea. The waters pour in and the level never rises. The observation is exact; the lesson Solomon draws from it is emptiness.
- Heart. Commentators read the sea as the human heart. Pour in every river of earthly pleasure and it stays unfilled. The heart is too big for the world.
- Sun. The gloom is by design. The book keeps to life "under the sun," a phrase used twenty-eight times, and saves God's own answer for its closing verses.
- Spring. What no river can do, Christ does. He offers living water, and only God in Christ can fill and satisfy the heart.
All things are full of toil; none can express it. The eye is not satisfied with seeing, nor the ear filled with hearing.
Here Solomon turns from the cycles of nature to life close at hand, and to the senses that take it in. His verdict is blunt: everything wears a man out, no words can capture it, and the two senses easiest to please never reach "enough."
One commentator explains what the Preacher turns to here, and why the eye and the ear are named:
Here the Preacher turns to the things closest at hand, the things people care about directly. He says that all these things — or all these words — wear us out (or, as some think, they are feeble), and that no one can put them into words. More than that: take the senses with the widest reach, the ones easiest to please — even there, the eye is not satisfied and the ear is not filled. The result is weariness and disappointment, not happiness.
The man behind this verdict lacked nothing. He had everything earth could give, and he tested all of it:
Such is the withering commentary on all earth's resources, given by the pen of one who had all that earth could give — one who was allowed to drain every cup of human and earthly pleasure to the very dregs. And what was it all? "Vanity and vexation of spirit." The resources of earth can never satisfy the poor human heart. Streams from created things can never quench the thirst of the immortal soul. Material things cannot possibly make us truly happy, even if they were permanent.
(The older translation reads "vexation of spirit"; the ESV has "a striving after wind.")
One writer traces this to a mismatch between the soul and everything it reaches for:
In Ecclesiastes, Solomon's self was seeking its own satisfaction. So there was no rest and no peace; it could not be otherwise. No human object could satisfy an immortal soul. A dying man could not find rest in what he was to die out of… 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. We need a large capacity for enjoying God Himself — a capacity that only God can give and only God can fill.
An eye that is never filled is not harmless. One writer names what it breeds:
What the eye sees seems to wake covetousness again and again, and it takes stern self-judgment to hold back this natural impulse of our hearts… Death feeds on mankind without a pause. It lays the body low in destruction and sends the spirit into the realms of the unseen, leaving only mourning and depression. In the same way, our eyes feed on all they can see, and never with a satisfying, living, vital result. All is passing and empty.
The Preacher weighs everything "under the sun." One writer marks that boundary and looks past it:
You will remember the old words, "The eye is not satisfied with seeing" (Eccl. 1:8). But the "preacher" was writing only about what is "under the sun." We who follow Christ are waiting to see what is above the sun. When we see Him "as He is," will we not then be fully satisfied?
The satisfaction this book cannot supply has a name:
That which satisfies, which 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 the true knowledge to the poor thirsting and hungry heart of man. He died for our sins, and He is now back above the sun. He is the One "in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge" (Col. 2). That which alone can satisfy is Christ.
- Wearying — All things wear a man out. The Preacher says no one can put that weariness into words.
- Unfilled — The eye and the ear reach furthest and are easiest to please. Neither ever arrives at "enough." What comes back is disappointment, not happiness.
- Mismatched — No human object can satisfy an immortal soul. No dying man rests in what he must die out of. The heart is too great for what earth offers it.
- Costly — An eye that is never filled breeds covetousness. Holding it back takes stern self-judgment.
- Above — Solomon's verdict covers only what is "under the sun." Christ came from above the sun, and He alone satisfies. When we see Him as He is, the eye will be filled at last.