And moreover, because the Preacher was wise, he still taught the people knowledge; and he pondered, and sought out, [and] set in order many proverbs.
Ecclesiastes has just come back to where it began: everything under the sun is vanity. Then the writer steps back and speaks of himself in the third person. He describes not his conclusions but his craft. Who is this Preacher, what work lay behind the book, and how far can the wisdom he collected actually carry a reader?
The detail about arranging proverbs is one clue to who wrote the book. Commentators read it next to chapter 1 and the record of Solomon's reign.
In Ecclesiastes chapter 1:1, 12 the author calls himself son of David and king in Jerusalem. In verse 16 he speaks of his great wisdom, which according to 1 Kings 3:12; 4:2 and following; 10:1 only King Solomon had. In Ecclesiastes 12:9 he mentions that he set in order many proverbs. This fact also speaks for Solomon only (see 1 Kings 4:32; Proverbs 1:1).
The book itself reads as the work of a man near the end of his life.
The boundary of Solomon's horizon is the sun. Beneath it he calls everything "Vanity." Read the book, and you will say Solomon wrote it at the close of his reign, in the evening of his life.
The verse opens by calling him wise. That wisdom was not self-made; it was handed to him, and it outstripped everything around him.
He preached about wisdom, set against the "vanity of vanities" that marks everything beneath the sun. The wisdom of God was in this royal preacher (1 Kings 3:28). God gave him wisdom and understanding beyond measure. Moses had learned all the wisdom of Egypt, but Solomon's wisdom went beyond even that (1 Kings 4:29-30).
The "many proverbs" he arranged are a set kind of saying. The Hebrew word behind them shows what that kind is.
The word usually translated "proverb," and used for the Book of Proverbs, is mashal. It means "comparison, likeness." Proverbs are short sentences designed to catch attention and stay in the memory (Deuteronomy 28:37; 1 Samuel 24:13; Proverbs 1:1; Ecclesiastes 12:9; Isaiah 14:4).
Weighing, studying, arranging — the verse describes effort, not sudden inspiration. Commentators take this as a pattern for anyone who speaks to others for God.
There is a right fitting of words to such an end, and we must not overlook it. Only a wisdom born of love can supply that skill. And that wisdom does not despise hard work in reaching its goals (Ecclesiastes 12:9).
Another writer warns what happens when a speaker skips that work.
Preach wisely. The preacher was wise, and he sought to find acceptable words (Ecclesiastes 12:9-10). Do not serve rough, loose, half-prepared material in a sloppy way. The cook's untidiness may turn the guests' stomachs.
His wisdom was not kept private. What he gave the people was knowledge of God set against the ruin of man — though within limits.
But among all that spoke of vanity, he touched on another subject: being wise, he taught the people. He had spoken at length about man and his works. He speaks briefly about God and what He does… He would tell the creature about the Creator. He is not sent here to proclaim grace. He is not given power here to offer salvation. But he would speak to God's creatures, who are responsible to the One who made them.
The teacher's own life shows what wise sayings cannot do.
Moral maxims, such as those we owe to this old-time preacher, are of immense value. But they have no power to regenerate or to save. Solomon himself, the wisest of men, fell victim to folly and in the end turned to idolatry.
The closing verses reach the top of what human wisdom can climb — and leave the climber stranded.
This is great wisdom, but does it help man? Does it bring comfort to his soul?… And this masterful conclusion of the royal searcher still leaves God and man apart, without even the faintest glimmer of light. Man is a sinner. How can his sins be forgiven?
- Given wisdom. Commentators identify the Preacher as Solomon. God gave him the wisdom this verse names, and it went beyond all the wisdom around him.
- Worked wisdom. He pondered, sought out and arranged. Care and skill in choosing words are part of teaching, not beneath it.
- Shaped wisdom. Proverbs are comparisons — short sayings built to catch attention and stick in the memory.
- Shared wisdom. Because he was wise, he taught the people. He told the creature about the Creator, but his task here was not to offer grace or salvation.
- Limited wisdom. Wise sayings have great value, but they cannot save. The wisest man fell, and the book's own conclusion still leaves God and man apart.
The Preacher sought to find out acceptable words; and that which was written is upright, words of truth.
The last verses of Ecclesiastes turn from the Preacher's search to the way he wrote it down. He tells us his method: he hunted for words that would please his hearers, and what he set down was straight and true.
Words have to be fitted to their aim, and that takes work. One writer names what the fitting requires:
There is a right fitting of words to that end, and it must not be overlooked. It is a skill that only a wisdom born of love can supply. And it is a skill that does not despise diligence in reaching its aim.
"Words of delight" and "words of truth" stand in the same sentence. One writer on preaching keeps both: manner matters, but the power is in the Word:
The power of gospel preaching rests in the Word of God; it has nothing to do with technique. That does not mean the preacher can ignore the way he does his work. He is to seek out acceptable words, "even words of truth" (Eccl. 12:10). He is not to throw a bundle of pious clichés at his hearers with no spiritual thought or preparation. Instead he is to be wise and win souls (Prov. 11:30).
Note: where older translations read "acceptable words," the ESV has "words of delight."
Seeking out words rules out careless work. One writer makes the point with a picture from the kitchen:
Preach wisely. "Because the preacher was wise, he … sought to find out acceptable words" (Eccles. 12:9-10). Not rough, loose, half-digested material, thrown together in a careless way — the dirtiness of the cook may turn the stomachs of the guests.
Fitting words also means fitting them to the people in front of you:
The word of God is too sacred, and preaching too serious a work, to be toyed and played with. Yet some do just that, making a sermon nothing but a matter of wit and fine speaking. Their sermon is like a child's doll: take away its dress and the rest is worth nothing. It is well indeed when the people can keep pace with the preacher. To preach truths and ideas above what the hearers can take in is like a nurse feeding a child with a spoon too big for its mouth.
The words the Preacher found were pleasing, yet his book is heavy. One writer asks why:
But why this cry of the Preacher who "sought to find out acceptable words"? And why does he view things so mournfully? The secret comes out. "A generation goes, and a generation comes, but the earth remains forever." The earth remains; man does not. So comes the question that needs no answer: "What profit?"
But this verdict is not just one man's bad mood:
Solomon is the writer. He goes through his experience of wisdom, riches, labour, and 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 a striving after wind, this is not the mere talk of a disappointed man. It is conviction recorded by God.
Note: older translations say "vexation of spirit" here; the ESV says "a striving after wind."
A hearer can refuse words chosen with all this care. One writer puts the fault with the hearer, not the words:
In an age of growing self-satisfaction, men trust their own reasoning. No wonder they think themselves fit to question the wisdom of the Preacher, and his acceptable words. For such people the words of the wise cannot be goads. Their fatal self-sufficiency turns those words into pitfalls or stumbling-blocks. To the faithful they are words of truth, and the collections of them are like nails fastened in.
Where people take them in, the search reaches its aim — the words stay put:
He was wise also in the way he prepared his messages. He "sought to find out acceptable words," so that what he "taught the people" would stay with them, as firmly fastened nails stay in the wood they are driven into.
- Sought. The wise Preacher worked at his words — a skill born of love that does not despise diligence.
- Suited. Fit the words to the hearer: no wit dressed up as a sermon, and no truth served in spoonfuls too big for the mouth.
- Sincere. Pleasing never means softened. He wrote what was upright — "words of truth" — and the power stays in the Word, not in technique.
- Sure. God recorded his verdict of vanity by inspiration. So it is settled conviction, not one disappointed man's complaint.
- Settled. Take such words in faith and they hold like nails driven home. Meet them with self-sufficiency and they turn into stumbling-blocks instead of goads.
The words of the wise are as goads, and the collections [of them] as nails fastened in they are given from one shepherd.
Ecclesiastes ends with two sharp pictures of wise words: a goad and a nail driven home. Both come from one source. So the verse asks not only what such words do to us, but who is speaking them.
A goad was a farm tool. Its daily use explains the comparison.
A long slender pole with a sharp point at one end, used for guiding and urging the oxen in ploughing. It also makes a fearsome weapon. Shamgar killed six hundred men with an ox goad, Judges 3:31; 1 Samuel 13:21. The goad pictures the energy that the words of the wise give, Ecclesiastes 12:11. Acts 9:5 and Acts 26:14 mention the goad, translated "pricks": if the ox kicked against the goad, he only hurt himself the more, as do all those who oppose God.
A goad is also a weapon. One writer applies that to God's fight with the Philistines, Israel's enemies.
The goad seems to match those words of the wise which are like goads. It is a word of simple encouragement and warning that appeals to the conscience, and true faith will always use it. Even the Philistines cannot take that away from God's people. A plain tool, needed in times of peace, can in the hands of faith strike the enemy with terrible effect.
A goad moves you; a nail holds. The Preacher worked at his teaching with that second picture in view. He searched for "acceptable words" — "words of delight" in the ESV.
He was wise also in the way he prepared his talks. He "sought to find out acceptable words", so that what he "taught the people" would stay with them. A firmly driven nail stays in the wood, and his words were to stay like that.
The verse does not say the words are goads to everyone. One writer says the effect depends on the hearer.
Our age grows more and more pleased with itself and sure of its own reason. No wonder men think they can question the wisdom of the Preacher and his acceptable words. To such men the words of the wise cannot be goads; their fatal self-sufficiency turns them into pitfalls or stumbling-blocks. To the faithful they are words of truth, and the collections of them are as nails fastened in. They are given from one shepherd, and they do not fail to warn the reader.
Anyone stopped in his tracks by a single line of Scripture has felt what this verse describes. The writer below quotes an older translation: where the ESV has "the collected sayings", it reads "nails fastened by the masters of assemblies".
It is often wonderful to notice the way in which the words of Scripture seize the heart. They are "as goads and as nails fastened by the masters of assemblies." At times one short sentence, or part of a sentence, will lay hold of the heart, pierce the conscience, or fill the mind. It does so in a way that proves beyond all question that the book it comes from is divine. What force of reasoning we meet throughout the sacred pages! What fullness of meaning, what power of application, what point and sharpness!
The verse traces every one of these scattered sayings back to one Shepherd. One writer draws a practical test from that: will we accept a message we would not have chosen?
How important to see that the servant must say and do what God gives him! It may not be what the servant himself wants, or what pleases others. Let us all be willing to accept such ministry as coming from "the Master of assemblies" (Ecclesiastes 12:11).
One writer takes the title as a description of the Holy Spirit, who works through the different writers of Scripture. That is why John's Gospel, his letters and Revelation all agree.
All is harmonious: Gospel, Epistles, and Revelation. All is John. All is that perfect wisdom of the Holy Spirit, who breathes through His instruments and fills His vessels. He tells us what a Master of assemblies He is, stooping to serve and furnish our tables.
- Goad — a farm tool that drives oxen forward. Wise words prod the conscience, and kicking against them only hurts the kicker.
- Nail — the same words stay where they are driven. So the Preacher searched for words that would stay with his hearers.
- One Shepherd — the many sayings come from a single giver, so they hold together rather than compete.
- Two hearers — the faithful find truth fastened in. The self-sufficient trip over the very same words.
- One test — take the message as from the Master of assemblies. That holds even when the servant did not choose it and you did not want it.
And besides, my son, be warned by them of making many books there is no end, and much study is a weariness of the flesh.
The Preacher's last word to his son warns about reading itself: books never stop coming, and study tires the body. The question the verse forces is not whether to read, but what deserves the wear on your mind.
"These" points back to the collected sayings of verse 11. The verse sets those words against the books people keep producing: one collection holds and steadies, the other only grows.
To the faithful they are words of truth, and the collections of them are like nails fastened in. They are given from one shepherd, and the reader is not left unwarned by them. Of the many books of man there is no end, and studying them is only weariness of the flesh.
Solomon wrote long before printing existed. One writer applies his words to an age when anyone can publish anything.
We need to pay special attention to words like these in a day like the present. The printing press stands ever ready to publish and spread every thought that rises out of the human mind, religious or otherwise.
You might assume the warning is only about trashy reading. The same writer says the opposite. Books that look most like the truth can carry the greatest danger.
Religious books are in fact far more dangerous. Even what has the greatest appearance of truth about it may be the most dangerous of all. The devil has a tremendous pull on the printing press. He is not fussy about what he occupies people with, so long as it is not Christ.
The weariness is not laziness. It comes from a real ceiling on what a mind can reach, and every answer found opens more questions.
There are fields of knowledge beyond man's capacity to explore or even reach. He may, like Solomon, arrive at this point. He learns from all he knows how little he knows. He finds that knowledge gained is the mother of many a question the student cannot answer. He sees how unable he is to understand even everything around him. This must always be his condition here. By the light of revelation we can look forward to a day when we shall know as we are known — but not down here (1 Cor. 13:12).
The warning does not shut down all Christian writing. It sets a test for it: does a book send you back to Scripture, or does it replace it?
The word of God is more important than the best word of man about that Word. The Bible itself states things infinitely more wisely and clearly than the wisest books of men... We may say, in general, that the most helpful books are the most stimulating. A book that satisfies us with itself, and stirs no longing to turn to the word of God, has something wrong about it. The best books ever written are only signboards pointing to where all knowledge lives.
Another writer warns about a quiet swap. Good books take the hours that belonged to the Bible.
Honour their authors, but do not make them your authority... Suppose a Christian has formed the habit of spending most of his reading hours on religious books, and only the smaller part — sometimes a tiny fraction — on reading his Bible. The result will always be the same. Scriptural knowledge gathered from those books ends up stored in the head instead of treasured in the heart.
Man's books have "no end" because more keep coming. The Bible is one fixed collection, and it still outruns every reader.
Even the Bible as it is — how little it is really known by those to whom it is dearer than life! ... Suppose you read the Bible often every day of your life, in a way both devout and studious. Any real Christian will tell you how far you would still be from fathoming its depths. It is always beyond the greatest teacher.
The caution about books is not the destination. It clears the way for the single conclusion that follows in verses 13–14.
But one thing is needful, as our Saviour said; and the royal Preacher points to the same conclusion... Christ alone, while confirming this, gives us far more as in Him. He lets us into heavenly things and the divine nature in a way that could not be known or enjoyed before. But to fear and obey Him is always right.
- Goad, not flood — The words of the wise are nails driven home by one shepherd. Man's books have no end. The contrast is the point, not reading itself.
- Flood is real — The press publishes every thought that rises in the human mind. Religious titles are not the safe exception.
- Signboard test — A book that satisfies you with itself, and leaves no longing for Scripture, has something wrong with it.
- Head or heart — Honour authors, but do not make them your authority. Books about the Word can fill the head and leave the heart untouched.
- One end — Study wearies because man cannot reach the end of knowledge. The Preacher lands instead on fearing God, and Christ alone gives far more besides.
Let us hear the end of the whole matter Fear God, and keep his commandments; for this is the whole of man.
Ecclesiastes tests everything life "under the sun" can offer and finds it empty. Its final verse sums the whole book up. After all the searching, the writer turns from man and his works to God. Why does the book land there?
One writer traces how the closing chapters reach that point:
Still, the wisdom of the upright and the folly of the fool each have their own consequences, and in the end God judges. To sum up the whole, God must be remembered, and that before weakness and old age overtake us. For the obvious conclusion of all that has been said is "Fear God and keep His commandments, for this is the whole of man."
The ESV reads "the whole duty of man." Other translations read simply "the whole of man." That difference matters:
A distinct division follows. Sinful man should not expect happiness except in God. "The whole of man" is to "fear God and keep His commandments." The phrase does not mean his duty. It means the one thing for man, the one principle of life. God will bring every work into judgment.
The book offers no rescue. The writer speaks as one creature to others about the God who made them all:
He would tell the creature of the Creator. He is not charged to proclaim grace; he is not empowered here to offer salvation. He speaks to God's creatures, who are responsible as such to Him who made them. The Creator will take notice of, and make judicial inquiry into, the actions of His creatures. This none can escape, and of this all need to be reminded.
That limit shows even in the names the book uses for God:
Ecclesiastes looks at this world under the same government, in its present fallen state. It asks whether man can find happiness and rest there by any means. There is no trace of the knowledge of redemption. Nor is there any recognised relationship with God. The name used is always Elohim (God), never Jehovah. Fearing God and keeping His commandments is the whole duty of man as such.
Read as an answer to man's real problem, the verse falls short:
This is great wisdom, but does it help man? Does it bring comfort to his soul? Does it give him what satisfies his heart? God is in heaven and man on the earth, he said before. There is an immeasurable distance between. And this masterly conclusion of the royal searcher still leaves God and man apart. There is not even the faintest glimmer of light. Man is a sinner; how can his sins be forgiven? How can man, with a sinful heart, "obey commandments"? What about that judgment of every hidden thing? Alas! no answer.
One writer answers the person who assumes he has already done that:
Alas! he thought that he had feared God and kept His commandments. Now none have fully done that; hence the necessity of the work of Christ.
Romans ends at a different place. Commentators do not set the two books against each other:
Is there contradiction in the two conclusions? Not at all. Ecclesiastes deals with "man's duty" while he lives "under the sun," and with God's judgment in the very last verse. Romans presents man's complete failure and guilt, and God's justification. The entire difference consists in this — that the cross of Christ comes between the two books.
Does grace set the command aside? Commentators say no.
Christ confirms this, and He alone gives us far more as in Him. He lets us into heavenly things and the divine nature, in a way that no one could know or enjoy back then. But to fear and obey Him is ever right.
Grace also changes the ground a person stands on:
Sovereign grace appears. It saves him, makes him a new creation, and changes the whole ground of responsibility. It does not cancel the command — the duty of fearing God. Instead it puts him where the righteousness of the law can be fulfilled in him, and it supplies the power for that.
- Conclusion. The book weighs everything under the sun, finds it empty, and points away from man's works to God Himself.
- Whole. The phrase is not one duty among many but "the whole of man" — the single principle on which a life can rest.
- Creature. The writer speaks as a creature to creatures about their Creator. He was not sent to offer grace or salvation.
- Distance. On its own, the command leaves a sinner exposed. No one has fully feared God and kept His commandments.
- Cross. The cross stands between this conclusion and the gospel's. It does not cancel the duty. It forgives the failure and gives the power.
For God shall bring every work into judgment, with every secret thing, whether it be good or whether it be evil.
Twelve chapters have tested everything under the sun. The book ends not with a summary but with a courtroom, where God weighs every deed and every hidden thing no one ever saw.
The book speaks of God as Creator and of people as His creatures. One writer shows why that relationship makes the closing verse inescapable.
He would tell the creature about the Creator. He is not commissioned here to proclaim grace; he is not empowered here to offer salvation. But he would speak to God's creatures, who are responsible as such to the One who made them. The Creator will take notice of, and make judicial inquiry into, the actions of His creatures. Nobody can escape this, and everyone needs reminding of it.
The verse just before this one calls fear and obedience "the whole duty of man." One writer reads that phrase as something larger than duty.
Sinful man should not expect happiness except in God. "The whole of man" is not his duty. It is the one thing for man, the one principle of life: to "fear God and keep his commandments." God will bring every deed into judgment.
The verse pairs "every deed" with "every secret thing." One writer explains why God leaves so much of life hidden for the moment.
Darkness suits men now. Clouds and darkness often surround the throne of God, and His ways are a mystery we cannot fathom. He looks for faith now. But He will bring to light the hidden things of darkness, and make everything plain in the day that is at hand.
The verse says God will do this. One writer asks why, and finds the answer in God's own character.
The principle the Old Testament states is plain: God will bring every deed into judgment, with every secret thing. Nothing else would be worthy of Him. He has nothing to hide, and no act of His has been in vain. Everything will be appraised and given its right value, so that each one may have his praise from God.
The verse states a rule the whole Bible repeats. One writer sets it beside what God has done about it.
Scripture reveals plainly that God will judge men according to their works. The Old and New Testaments are equally clear… Man's portion is death, and after death, judgment. He is sinful and lost. But grace has stepped in after the sin and before the judgment. God has sent His Son to save all who believe. They receive life in Him who died and bore their judgment on the cross, and they show that life by bearing fruit here below. So the Lord who is to judge has Himself ruled that the believer does not come into judgment. Even while here, he has passed out of death into life.
Kelly points out that Scripture uses two different words here.
Even so, all of us, absolutely all, must be manifested before the judgment seat of Christ, and each will receive what is due for what he has done in the body, whether good or bad. Notice the wording: "manifested" is the word used where the faithful are included, while "judged" is kept for those who refuse God's mercy in Christ and must own that His judgment is righteous.
Read on its own, the verse is the peak of what human wisdom can reach — and it stops short of comfort.
This is great wisdom, but does it help man? Does it bring comfort to his soul? Does it carry with it what satisfies his heart?… Man is a sinner; how can his sins be forgiven? How can man, with a sinful heart, "obey commandments"? What about that judgment of every hidden thing? Sadly, there is no answer. Lost, sinful man stands face to face with the highest that natural wisdom can produce, and he must shake and tremble.
The same writer shows where that unanswered question leads.
So Ecclesiastes prepares the way for the gospel of Jesus Christ. Like every other Old Testament book, it points and leads to Christ. He solves every problem and answers every question. In Him the old creation ends and the new begins.
- Every creature. The book speaks of God as Creator, and every creature is answerable to the One who made them. Nobody escapes the inquiry.
- Every work. Judgment according to works is not one book's opinion; the Old and New Testaments say the same thing.
- Every secret. Darkness suits people now, so God asks for faith. The hidden things get their light later.
- Every question. The verse leaves the problem open. A sinful heart cannot keep commandments, and the highest human wisdom has no answer.
- Every answer. Grace stepped in after the sin and before the judgment. Christ bore that judgment. The believer is manifested, not judged, and has already passed from death into life.