And I turned myself to behold wisdom, and madness, and folly; for what shall the man [do] that cometh after the king? -- that which hath already been done.
Solomon has just reviewed everything his hands built. Now he turns to weigh wisdom against madness and folly. Behind the survey lies a challenge no one else could make: if the richest and wisest king has already run the experiment, what is left for anyone who comes after him?
The question is not a boast. Solomon had the wisdom and the wealth to test life to its limits, so his verdict carries weight.
Man wants something more. Where can he find it? The wisdom of the ancients cannot supply it. The research of people alive today cannot supply it either. It needs someone gifted with real wisdom to weigh it, someone able to search hard into the things of earth to discover it. One, and only one, of the children of Adam has been equal to the task... God gave him a measure of wisdom surpassing all before him, and no one coming after him has ever equalled it. He was king in Jerusalem, owning wealth beyond any monarch the world has ever seen. All that wealth could buy, all that power could command, all that wisdom could search out — he could enjoy and understand it. "What," then, "can the man do who comes after the king?"
The second half of the verse answers its own question before anyone can try.
His reflections follow on wisdom and madness and folly; for he knew what it must be for the man who comes in after the king: at best a repetition of the same empty pursuit of satisfaction here below.
It is striking that Solomon puts these three in one sentence. One writer finds the same odd mixture in the goods Solomon imported, and reads it as a personal descent.
As his kingdom prospered, we are told that his imports were "gold and silver, ivory, and apes and peacocks" (1 Kings 10:22). Apes stand for folly, and peacocks for vanity. For a man supreme on earth for wisdom this is a fall from the sublime to the ridiculous. We find the same strange blending of things that differ in Ecclesiastes 1:17, where he gives his heart to know wisdom, and to know madness and folly. Here in Ecclesiastes 2:12 he says it again: "So I turned to consider wisdom and madness and folly." Not at the same moment, surely! First he valued wisdom as more precious than rubies and fine gold; then he turned to madness and folly.
Pleasure and possessions have failed, so Solomon reaches for something higher. The change of subject does not change the outcome.
His search had disappointed him, but now he turns to something more ideal and less material than the things before. He turns philosopher, but it is no use. It leads down the same road and ends with the same groan — vanity and a striving after wind. Wisdom is superior to folly as far as light is superior to darkness. Yet wisdom cannot help man. It cannot give him peace or happiness. There is one event which happens to the wise man and to the fool: that event is death.
Ecclesiastes can read like the diary of a tired king, easy to wave off. Writers answer that God directed the record, and that one limit marks the whole search.
Solomon, who is the writer, goes through his experience of wisdom, of riches, of labour, and of all that his heart as a man could desire. And who can come after the king? He records it all by inspiration. So when he proves it to be nothing but vanity and a striving after wind, this is not the mere utterance of a disappointed man. It is a conviction God Himself recorded. The actions all carry the mark "under the sun," with no thought of doing them toward God.
The search under the sun ends empty. So the answer must come from somewhere else.
Is there a higher wisdom and knowledge? There is, but in the book of the natural man it is unrevealed. That which satisfies, which is not vanity and a striving after wind, is that which is above the sun, and 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. In Him "are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge" (Colossians 2). That which alone can satisfy is Christ.
- Tried — Solomon tested life with resources no one else has had. His verdict is not one man's bad mood. It is a conclusion recorded by inspiration.
- Repeated — his question answers itself. Whoever follows the king can only redo what the king already did.
- Mixed — the wisest of men searched wisdom and folly side by side, a fall from the sublime to the ridiculous.
- Levelled — wisdom beats folly as light beats darkness. Yet death comes to the wise man and the fool alike.
- Above — the whole search stays "under the sun." What satisfies came from above it: Christ Himself.
And I saw that wisdom excelleth folly, as light excelleth darkness.
Solomon has tested everything life offers and found nothing that lasts. Here he compares wisdom with folly, and admits that wisdom wins. So why does a book so full of "vanity" hand wisdom a real victory — and why does that victory solve so little?
The verdict here carries weight because of who reached it. Commentators point out that the writer was uniquely equipped by God to run the experiment and report the result honestly.
When we speak of Solomon's wisdom, we must remember that it was not mere genius, as people use that word. It was not the fruit of long study and hard work either. God gave him wisdom and knowledge, along with riches, wealth and honour, such as no king before him ever had, and such as no king after him will have (2 Chronicles 1:12). This was the man appointed to show faithfully what life on earth is for a fallen creature, and all it can ever be. And One, and One alone, who has walked this earth as man, has shown fully what man should be. David's son describes the first; David's Lord has displayed the second.
The verse is not a piece of gloom. It concedes something solid — and then immediately sets it beside a fact that spoils the pleasure of it.
Still, it is granted that wisdom has a profit above folly, as light has above darkness. The wise man has his eyes in his head, while the fool walks in darkness. Yet if the same end comes to all, what an irony!
The picture in the following verse explains the comparison. A wise man's eyes are where they belong — looking, watching, reading what is in front of him.
We usually prefer to have dealings with a man who looks us straight between the eyes, for we assume he is a man of candour, of honesty and of courage. And generally speaking, a man's clear and steady eyes and his habit of using them may be taken as reliable indications of his character. It was said of old, "A wise man's eyes are in his head," and, "The eyes of a fool are in the ends of the earth." — Ecclesiastes 2:14; Proverbs 17:24.
That open-eyed watchfulness has an everyday use. It means noticing what a life is producing and drawing the obvious conclusion.
This suggests that we keep our eyes open, and when we spot such people, we keep away from them. We know them by how they behave; watch for them. "The wise man's eyes are in his head" (Ecclesiastes 2:14). When we see persons who are marked by unclean things we should avoid them.
Solomon's admission is real but narrow. The wise man sees better; he does not last longer.
"Then I saw that there is more gain in wisdom than in folly, as there is more gain in light than in darkness." He turns philosopher, but it is no use. It leads down the same road and ends with the same groan — vanity and a chasing of the wind. Wisdom is above folly as light is above darkness. Yet wisdom cannot help man. It cannot give him peace, and it cannot give him happiness. One event happens to the wise man and to the fool: that event is death.
The reason for that limit lies in the purpose of the book. It deals only with what a man can see and test in this life.
The difficulty here, like so many elsewhere, seems to spring from a misunderstanding of God's purpose in a book. "What is under the sun" — not the revelation of what is above and beyond it — is what is being discussed. So here it is simply the result of human experience, which knows nothing at all about what comes after death. The solution of all moral perplexities is found only in the unseen — in the Word of God, not in the world that now is.
So the book's failure to satisfy is doing its work. The thirst it leaves has a purpose.
"That dissatisfaction with passing pleasures, which men mourn as the unhappiness of their nature, is in fact its privilege." That thought is right, and worth valuing. For this thirsting again, this spending of "labour for that which does not satisfy," throws the heart on Jesus.
- Tested — God Himself gave this man wisdom, wealth and honour beyond any king before or after him. No one can say the test was unfair.
- Granted — Wisdom does beat folly, as light beats darkness. The book grants this instead of sinking all into gloom.
- Seeing — The wise man's eyes are in his head. He watches, and he stays away from people marked by unclean things.
- Stopped — The advantage runs out. Wisdom sharpens sight, but it gives no peace and no happiness. One event, death, meets wise man and fool alike.
- Beyond — The book looks only at life "under the sun." God's Word alone shows what lies above it. And the thirst this book leaves throws the heart on Jesus.
The wise man's eyes are in his head, and the fool walketh in darkness; but I myself also perceived that one event happeneth to them all.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
And I said in my heart, As it happeneth to the fool so will it happen even to me; and why was I then so wise? Then I said in my heart that this also is vanity.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
For there shall be no remembrance of the wise more than of the fool for ever; because everything is already forgotten in the days which come. And how dieth the wise even as the fool?
Solomon set out to test whether wisdom gives a man anything that lasts. Here the experiment collapses: the grave treats the wise man and the fool alike, and then erases the memory of both.
This verdict carries weight because of who reached it. One writer notes that Solomon lacked nothing he could have wanted, and that his wisdom stayed with him the whole way.
That was the wide range of pleasures he explored, both of the mind and of the body. No joy was withheld from him; yet even while he threw himself into all that he describes, he tells us his wisdom stayed with him. So he was fully able to judge what it was all worth, from his own experience and from the wisdom that never left him. Would not such a man be satisfied with what this life could give? If others with fewer advantages were disappointed, he at least had his fill of everything he wanted.
The verse does not deny that wisdom beats folly. It denies that the advantage survives death, and one writer traces where that leaves Solomon.
Still, wisdom does have a profit above folly, as light has above darkness. The wise man has his eyes in his head, while the fool walks in darkness. Yet if the result is the same for all, what an irony of events! He had found it so himself. Soon all alike would be forgotten here on earth, the one dying as the other. So he felt disgust at life and hated all his toil, above all because he must leave it to a successor — and who knows whether that man will be wise or a fool?
Death does not just end the wise man. It flattens the distinctions he spent his life building. One writer notes that man comes off worse than the animals here, because he alone dreads what is coming.
Death brings everything down to its level — wise and fool, man and beast. What difference is there? Only that the beast can fill his place for a time with no regrets and no anticipations, and man cannot. Death he hates and dreads, and conscience forebodes judgment.
The verse states the case honestly. But it is the case as one man sees it, reasoning from what he can observe. Read that way, "no enduring remembrance" marks the limit of human sight, not the limit of God.
As the natural man sees it, apart from revelation, death plunges the wise man and the fool into oblivion... That is how the natural man reasons. By revelation we know that there is remembrance.
Ecclesiastes never answers death on its own terms, and writers are candid that this is by design. The book hands you the problem; the answer comes from outside the book's own horizon.
Ecclesiastes has no word of resurrection. What it deals with is death — the stamp of vanity upon everything, and the one thing all men's reasoning can do so little to penetrate or understand. Faith shows death in its true character: the calling back of the spirit into His presence. Without that, death is a worthless zero. With it, death becomes almost infinite in value.
Solomon searched only "under the sun." One writer puts the failure there — not in the search, but in where the searcher looked.
This is the experience of a man with no equal in his ability, his circumstances, and his means. (What can the man do who comes after the king?) He searched for happiness, and found only vanity and a chasing after wind in all that is "done under the sun." How could it be otherwise, if man is an outcast from paradise and does not look in faith to Him who is above the sun?
The book does not leave the reader under the sun.
The book also directs us to Christ. There is something above the sun, something that does not vanish but stays. The old creation calls for a new creation, and Christ has made that possible.
- Qualified — The man who says wisdom cannot outlast death had every advantage, and his wisdom stayed with him to the end. No one can call his verdict sour grapes.
- Real — Wisdom does beat folly, as light beats darkness. The verse does not deny its value, only that it lasts.
- Levelled — Death flattens wise and fool alike. Man feels this as the beast cannot: he dreads death, and his conscience warns him of judgment.
- Reported — "No enduring remembrance" is how a man reasons with only what he can see. By revelation we know there is remembrance.
- Answered — Ecclesiastes has no word of resurrection. Look only under the sun and you find vanity. The book itself points beyond the sun to Christ, in whom there is what abides.
And I hated life; for the work that is wrought under the sun was grievous unto me; for all is vanity and pursuit of the wind.
Solomon's search finally turns bitter. The man with every advantage looks at the world and cannot bear what he sees. Two questions follow: what made life hateful to him, and is his verdict the last word?
This is not the complaint of someone who missed out. It is the report of the one man who could try everything.
What gives this its particular point is the personal position of the Preacher. Suppose someone could look at man as he is on the earth and still escape the sense of misery. You would have thought that man would be King Solomon. What lies before us is his 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, nor of ability or resources.
His hatred of life follows what he has just said about death. Wisdom is better than folly. It still cannot save anyone from the one event that comes to all.
The old, old question is, "Is life worth living?" After all he has said, the answer must be no. If all is vanity and a striving after wind, and there is no profit under the sun in anything a man enjoys, works for, and gets, then life is not worth living. He had been disappointed in his search, but now he turns to something more ideal... Wisdom is superior to folly as far as light is superior to darkness. Yet wisdom cannot help man. It cannot give him peace or happiness. There is one event which happens to the wise man and to the fool: that event is death.
The world was not always like this. Solomon is looking at a spoiled creation, and God makes the evil in it felt.
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... This day is far different. Crookedness and defect remain. They are too great for man, and it is not yet God's time. Meanwhile man feels the misery fully and spells it out in detail.
The grief here is not a man tasting the fruit of his own sins. It is a man seeing the whole scene as it is.
He sees what is crooked and knows what is lacking. But he cannot put things straight or supply what is missing... And remember, this is not the experience of a sinner reaping the fruit of what he has sown. It is the experience of a man of the old creation (though a sinner himself), feeling the ruin and disorder that sin has brought on the earth.
The phrase Solomon keeps repeating is the key to his despair. He looks only at what lies below the sun, and that limit decides what he finds.
This is the experience of a man with no equal in his ability, his circumstances, and his means. For what can the man do who comes after the king? He searched for happiness, and found only vanity and a striving after wind in everything "done under the sun." How could it be otherwise, if man is an outcast from paradise and does not look in faith to Him who is above the sun?
Taken on its own, that earthly view has only one ending. The New Testament sets something else beside it.
Note that this is simply taking advantage of every material thing "under the sun." It looks at things only from an earthly viewpoint. So it teaches us that, apart from the revelation given by God, man's history is hopeless misery. How wonderful is the contrast in the New Testament! It presents the Lord Jesus Christ, His revelation of the glory of God, and the eternal inheritance of the saints in light.
Solomon's whole experiment paid nothing. One way of living does pay.
Now godliness means being conscious of God. It means living under the eye of God. It means having God as the trust and the glory of our hearts. Godliness like this, with the contentment that flows from it, is great gain.
- Tested — the verdict comes from the one man with the wealth, wisdom and position to try everything. No one can say he lacked the chance.
- Levelled — wisdom does excel folly as light excels darkness. Yet death comes to the wise and the fool alike, and that is what makes life hateful to him.
- Spoiled — the work under the sun is grievous because sin has ruined a creation God once called very good. Solomon feels a disorder he cannot straighten.
- Bounded — his search never rises above the sun, and a life measured only by what is below it must end in "hopeless misery."
- Gained — Solomon found no profit under the sun. Godliness with contentment is great gain — living under God's eye is the one thing that pays.
And I hated all my labour wherewith I had been toiling under the sun, because I should leave it unto the man that shall be after me.
Solomon has just described the greatest building projects, wealth and pleasure any man could gather. Now he turns from what he made to who gets it. His complaint is not that the work was bad. It is that his work will pass to hands he cannot choose, test or control.
The verse names the boundary Solomon works inside. One writer counts that phrase and shows what it leaves out.
The expression "under the sun" comes twenty-nine times in this book. What is "under the sun" is on the earth. There is, of course, something above the sun — that is heaven, the heavenly things. Ecclesiastes deals 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 takes up and all that goes with it — is nothing but vanity and a chasing after wind. It never satisfies, and it is full of sorrow and perplexity.
The thing that spoils the work is not failure but death. It arrives exactly at the moment the worker expects his reward.
Here we get a view of death that man does well to remember. Death is the wages of sin, but it is not viewed in that aspect in Ecclesiastes. Solomon does not dwell on the reason death entered the world. He dwells on its presence here, as a worm at the root of the tree of pleasure. It spoils pleasure and chills enjoyment. It cuts a man off just when he would sit down after years of toil to reap the fruit of his labour... This book looks at death from this side of the grave. It shows how death separates a man from the fruit of all his labour, just when he thinks he is about to gather it.
The next verse asks who that successor will be. One commentator traces Solomon's mind from weariness to open despair.
Soon all alike would be forgotten here below, the one dying as the other. So he came to loathe life and hated all his toil, above all because he had to leave it to a successor — and who knows whether he will be wise or a fool? Yet that man must have authority over all the toil and fruit of wisdom under the sun. This too was vanity. A feeling of despair followed over all his toil, as he thought of an heir who had never toiled.
History answered Solomon's question. The heir was not wise, and ten tribes broke away.
According to the king's lament (Ecc. 2:19), the man to whom Solomon left all the fruit of his labour was not wise. His folly brought on him the consequences that God's counsels had attached to his father's sin. Under Jeroboam's leadership, ten tribes threw off the authority of the house of David. Looked at in terms of responsibility, the house of David has entirely and for ever lost its glory.
The uncertainty runs both ways, and not only on thrones. A wicked father can have a good son.
Hezekiah was a remarkably good man, and his father was notably wicked. How truly and how widely the wise Preacher's reflection about successors applies! It holds in a kingdom, and in the smaller circle of the household: "Who knows whether he will be wise or a fool?"
The book does not solve the problem it exposes. The answer comes from outside its limits.
There is no question in it of grace or of redemption. It is the experience of a man — a king with wisdom and riches — about human life. He tries to solve every contradiction in the world while he views it all "under the sun." Only the wisdom that comes from above can solve these things, or leave them unsolved in peace. Only in the New Testament do we get "new creation." It rises above the confusion of fallen humanity and reveals "eternal life" that is in God's Son.
So hatred of one's own work is not the last word for a believer. Resurrection changes the value of what he does.
We have the strongest reason to work hard in the Lord's interests. We know that "in the Lord your labor is not in vain." The work may look useless as far as man and his little world are concerned. But in the Lord, and connected with the order of things established in resurrection, it is not in vain.
- Under the sun. Solomon speaks inside a fixed limit — earthly things only, what man does apart from God.
- Death. Inside that limit, death is the worm at the root: it cuts a man off just when he sits down to enjoy what he built.
- Successor. What death removes, an unknown heir receives. He may be wise, he may be a fool. No one can tell in advance, in a kingdom or in a household.
- History. Solomon's fear was not just theory. His own heir proved unwise, and ten tribes broke away from his house.
- In the Lord. The answer lies above the sun: grace, new creation and eternal life. Work done for the Lord belongs to the order of resurrection, and is not in vain.
And who knoweth whether he will be a wise [man] or a fool? yet shall he have rule over all my labour at which I have laboured, and wherein I have been wise under the sun. This also is vanity.
The day Solomon dies, everything he built passes to somebody else. He cannot choose that person, and the verse asks the question no one can answer in advance: wise or a fool?
The verse ends with two of this book's key terms: "vanity" and "under the sun." One writer explains each:
The word "vanity" means that which soon vanishes, nothingness. The other phrase to notice is "under the sun." It appears twenty-nine times in this book. What is "under the sun" is on the earth. There is, of course, something above the sun — that is heaven, the heavenly things. So Ecclesiastes deals with earthly things. It deals with what man does apart from God — the natural man. The book describes the things under the sun. It shows that everything man does is nothing but vanity and a chasing after wind. His pursuits, his labours, whatever he takes on and all that goes with it — all of it is always unsatisfying and full of sorrow and confusion.
One writer traces how the thought of a successor turned Solomon's disgust into despair:
He hated life, and he hated all his toil — above all because he must leave it to a successor. And who knows whether that man will be wise or foolish? Yet that man must have power over all that toil and fruit of wisdom under the sun. This too was vanity. A feeling of despair followed over all his toil, as he thought of an heir who had never toiled.
The problem is not the work. Death cuts in at the moment the harvest is ready:
Death is the wages of sin, but it is not viewed in that light in Ecclesiastes. Solomon does not dwell on why it entered the world, but on its presence here as a worm at the root of the tree of pleasure. It spoils pleasure and chills enjoyment. It cuts a man off just when he would sit down to reap the fruit of years of toil.
Solomon's son Rehoboam inherited what Solomon built:
History answers the question. It shows with force the emptiness of all things that he felt so keenly. Rehoboam abandoned the advice of the old men who had served his father Solomon. That act of folly cost him the loyalty of the ten tribes. After three years of his reign he also abandoned the Lord. Shishak king of Egypt invaded, and Rehoboam lost the treasures Solomon had gathered. The shields of gold went to fill the treasuries of Egypt, and Rehoboam had to put shields of bronze in their place.
The uncertainty runs the other way too:
Hezekiah was a remarkably good man, with such a notably wicked father. The wise Preacher's reflection about one's successors applies truly and widely, whether in a kingdom or in the smaller circle of the household: "who knows whether he will be wise or a fool?"
People still hoard for their children. One writer says this can harm the child:
Yet people will build and hoard. If not for themselves, then for their children — or in other words, their second selves. If I hoard for my children, I am hoarding for myself. And not only that. In countless cases the hoard proves a positive curse to the child instead of a blessing. It takes him off the proper ground appointed for him, as for everyone, in God's moral government. That ground is "doing honest work with his own hands, so that he may have" — not to hoard for himself or for his second self, but — "something to share with anyone in need."
One kind of work is never lost:
No toil, no testing, no suffering gone through in faith for the Lord will be lost. It is all treasured up. When our Lord Jesus Christ is revealed at the resurrection, it will be found to result in praise and glory and honour.
- Under the sun. The verse measures life by what we can see on earth, apart from God. On that measure every pursuit ends in emptiness.
- The unknown heir. The successor tipped Solomon into despair, not the work. A man who never toiled will rule all the toil produced — and he may be wise or a fool.
- Death cuts in. The sting is timing. Death takes a man just when he would sit down to enjoy the harvest.
- Rehoboam. History gave the answer Solomon dreaded. His son lost ten tribes and the gold, and hung bronze shields where gold ones had been. Hezekiah shows the uncertainty runs both ways.
- What survives. Hoarding for a child can rob him of honest work and of dependence on God. Work done for the Lord is the one treasure no heir can spend.
Then I went about to cause my heart to despair of all the labour wherewith I had laboured under the sun.
The Preacher has just said he hated life and hated his work, because all he built must go to whoever comes next. Verse 20 is where that reasoning turns inward and settles into despair — but is despair the last word on life "under the sun"?
Despair did not come first. One writer follows the steps to it: he hated his work, then he thought about the man who would inherit it.
So he came to loathe life and hated all his toil. He had to leave it to a successor, and who knows whether that man will be wise or a fool? Yet the successor will hold power over everything he toiled for and gained by wisdom under the sun. This too was vanity. Despair came over him about all his toil, as he thought of an heir who had done none of the work. What was there in his work but pain and frustration? Even at night his heart would not let him rest.
The Preacher asks who knows whether his successor will be wise or a fool. One writer shows how history answered that question in Solomon's own family line.
Just as the king lamented (Ecc. 2:19), the man to whom Solomon left all the fruit of his labour was not wise. His folly brought on him the consequences that God had attached to his father's sin. Led by Jeroboam, ten tribes threw off the rule of the house of David. Measured by its responsibility, the house of David lost its glory completely and for ever.
Behind the despair stands death. The book does not explain where death came from. It shows what death does to the plans a man is still making.
Solomon does not dwell on the reason death entered the world. He dwells on its presence here, like a worm at the root of the tree of pleasure… It spoils pleasure and it chills enjoyment. It cuts a man off just when he would sit down, after years of toil, to enjoy the fruit of his work.
Another writer puts the problem deeper still. It lies not in the heir, but in the self at the centre of the search.
For him, self was seeking its own satisfaction. So here there was no rest and no peace, and it could not be otherwise. No human object could satisfy an immortal soul. A dying man could find no rest in what he had to die and leave behind… 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.
How should a reader take words like these? One writer answers that God recorded the despair exactly, but it is a man's despair, spoken from inside the limits of what he can see.
Ecclesiastes 1:1 tells us these are the uninspired words of Solomon. But the book is the inspired record of his words. It shows the doubt that is natural to human wisdom, working within its own limits and cut off from God's revelation. The Preacher is in despair and can see nothing beyond the grave.
If nothing under the sun can hold the heart, the search must rise higher.
Turn where you will "under the sun" and you will find nothing the heart can rest on. You must rise on the strong, steady wing of faith to the regions "above the sun." There you find "a better and an enduring" possession. The One who sits at the right hand of God has said, "I walk in the way of righteousness, in the paths of justice, granting an inheritance to those who love me, and filling their treasuries" (Prov. 8:20-21).
Solomon's despair was expensive. He wrote it down so nobody else has to pay for the same conclusion.
God did not inspire him to do what he did, but God did inspire him 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 that there is no profit in it at all. There is "no profit under the sun."
- Cause. The despair does not come from failure. It comes from success he had to hand on to a successor who might be a fool — and his heir was one.
- Worm. Death sits at the root of every earthly pleasure, cutting a man off exactly when he sits down to enjoy what he built.
- Limit. This is despair measured "under the sun" — an inspired record of a man who could see nothing past the grave.
- Mismatch. No object under the sun is large enough for an immortal soul, and no dying man finds rest in what he must die out of.
- Gift. Solomon ran the experiment once, on the largest scale possible, and wrote the verdict down. Take "no profit" from him instead of paying to learn it.
For there is a man whose labour hath been with wisdom, and with knowledge, and with skill, and who leaveth it to a man that hath not laboured therein, to be his portion. This also is vanity and a great evil.
Solomon has just described work at its best — done with wisdom, knowledge and skill — and then watches it pass to a man who never worked for it. He calls that not just empty but a great evil, and this verse makes us ask why.
Solomon feared this while he was still at the height of his success, and the fear came true in his own family.
While he was prospering, one painful thought stayed with him: the heir to it all might turn out to be a fool… As the royal philosopher feared, so it happened. Rehoboam refused to listen to the reasonable complaints of his subjects. He drove ten of Israel's twelve tribes into revolt against the house of David, and no one has repaired that damage to this day.
Nothing but death forces a man to leave his life's work behind. Ecclesiastes does not explain where death came from. It shows what death does to human ambition.
Death is the wages of sin, but it is not viewed in this way in Ecclesiastes. Solomon does not dwell on why it entered the world, but on its presence here as a worm at the root of the tree of pleasure. It spoils pleasure and chills enjoyment. A man toils for years. Then, just as he sits down to reap the fruit of his labour, death cuts him off… But now, for the man who feels the results of the fall, death is the great spoiler. It blasts all his hopes.
Another writer states plainly what the man loses and who gains it.
And the misery of it is just this: a man has laboured for years and naturally expects to enjoy what he, and not others, has piled up. But death comes in and takes him away, so he leaves all the fruit of his labour to be enjoyed by someone else.
The book keeps reaching the same verdict, and the reason lies in where the writer stands. His repeated phrase "under the sun" marks the limit of his search.
This expression 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 — that is heaven, the heavenly things. So Ecclesiastes deals with earthly things, with what man does apart from God… In all his searching and describing of the things under the sun, the writer makes one thing clear. He does not depend on divine revelation, on what is above the sun. He reaches his results by the light nature gives, and his resources are within himself… The book is in the Holy Scriptures for one purpose: to show man apart from God how hollow and empty everything under the sun is, and to make him seek and find what is better, what is above the sun.
This is not the complaint of a man who failed. The very advantages that should have brought satisfaction sharpened the ache.
The subject here is not guilt, as in Psalm 32 and Psalm 51, but the unhappiness of a man whose heart does not rise above created things. Take the fullest means, the highest ability, the highest rank, the most active mind, the most cultivated taste — yes, and wisdom above all men. All of it only makes the dissatisfaction and the misery deeper.
If wise labour can end this way, does any work escape it? Commentators point to a different account — one that death cannot close.
The highest attainments or richest prosperity in things under the sun are all vanity. But the smallest service to the Lord — even giving a cup of cold water in His name — has the value of eternity in it.
What a person holds now is not really his own.
The things you have here are your Master's goods. If you hoard them up here, you are certain to lose them later, and you will turn them into accusers. On the other hand, grace lets you transfer them truly to your own account, by laying them up where your treasure is — "in heaven."
The conclusion is not that effort is pointless.
Because mere human work is vanity is no reason to be lazy in the Lord's work. Faith in the living God and diligence go together, for in this there is no vanity: "your labor is not in vain in the Lord."
- Labour. Wisdom, knowledge and skill can build something excellent. The builder still hands it to a man who never worked for it. Solomon's own heir, Rehoboam, proved his fear right.
- Death. Death forces the handover. It is the wages of sin, but this book does not look at it that way. It shows death as the worm at the root, cutting a man off just as he sits down to enjoy the harvest.
- Limit. The writer passes his whole verdict "under the sun," from the earth only, by the light nature gives and not God's revelation. That is why the book drives the reader to look above the sun.
- Intensity. Greater means, rank and ability do not soften the ache. They sharpen it. The trouble is a heart that never rises above created things.
- Transfer. Hoard your Master's goods here and you lose them; they become your accusers. Spend them for the Lord — even a cup of cold water — and they move to an account no heir can touch. That labour is not in vain.
For what will man have of all his labour and of the striving of his heart, wherewith he hath wearied himself under the sun?
Solomon has just described the sleepless work of a lifetime, and now he asks what a man takes home after all that effort and strain. He leaves the question hanging on purpose, and everything turns on four words — "under the sun."
The phrase Solomon repeats through the book sets the limits of his question. He weighs everything on earth, using only what a man can see and work out for himself.
The next phrase we notice is "under the sun." It appears twenty-nine times in this book. What is under the sun is on the earth. There is, of course, something above the sun: heaven, the heavenly things. So Ecclesiastes deals 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 all man does — his pursuits, his work, whatever he takes up and everything tied to it — is nothing but vanity and frustration of spirit. It never satisfies. It is full of sorrow and confusion. In all his searching he does not depend on God's revelation, on what is above the sun. He reaches his results by the light nature gives, and his resources are inside himself.
If anyone could have escaped this verdict, it was the man who wrote it.
What gives it particular point is who the Preacher is. If anyone could look at man as he is on the earth and not feel the misery of it, you would have expected that man to be king Solomon. What lies before us is his appraisal in the Spirit, so that faith might profit by all he tells us. It is not from lack of power, interest, or research, any more than of capability or resources.
The strain Solomon describes was not part of the world as God made it.
Because of Adam's sin the ground was made to bring forth thorns and thistles, and from then on man must eat his bread in labour and toil, in the sweat of his face. That is to say, labour and toil began with sin — the keeping and dressing of the garden was neither labour nor toil, in the language of Scripture.
The question bites because a man is cut off from his own results. Death arrives before the harvest.
What a trouble death is — an unwelcome visitor whom nobody can keep out of his house. It comes uninvited, at a time man thinks is wrong, and it strips its victim of everything... The thread of a man's life unrolls in front of him. At one end is his birth; at the other, his exit from the world by death. All he sees is the short life of a mortal born to die. So we can understand the reason for that cry: "What has a man from all the toil...?"
Solomon names two things in the verse: the toil, and the striving of heart. The second points to what Solomon was really after.
In Ecclesiastes, Solomon says that 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 find 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.
Solomon asks his question inside a closed circle. The answer must come from outside it.
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 frustration 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... That which alone can satisfy is Christ.
That changes what a working life can come to. The same work, done for the Lord, belongs to an order death does not end.
We have the strongest reason for hard work in the Lord's interests: we know that "in the Lord your labor is not in vain." It may look useless as far as man and his little world are concerned. But in the Lord, and as part of the order of things established in resurrection, it is not in vain.
- The question. Solomon asks what a man's toil and mental strain leave him with. He gives no answer, because inside the limits he has set there is none.
- The limit. "Under the sun" means on the earth. A man works it all out by his own resources, with no revelation from above, and inside that circle everything comes back empty.
- The cause. Labour and toil began with sin and the cursed ground; the garden work before that was no toil at all.
- The verdict. Death strips a man of everything just as he sits down to enjoy it. And no object on earth was ever big enough for a soul that outlives it.
- The answer. It comes from above the sun, where Christ came from. Work done for Him is not lost, because it belongs to the order of things established in resurrection.
For all his days are sorrows, and his travail vexation even in the night his heart taketh no rest. This also is vanity.
Solomon has just watched his life's work slip toward an heir he did not choose. Now he adds up the cost: painful days, and a heart that will not switch off at night. Is this despair God approves, or the honest report of a man measuring life by what he can see?
This verdict comes from a book that stays inside what a man can see for himself. One repeated phrase marks that limit.
Another word we notice is "under the sun." This expression is found twenty-nine times in this book. Now that which is "under the sun" is on the earth. There is, of course, something which is above the sun, that is heaven, the heavenly things. Ecclesiastes deals 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 all a man does — his pursuits, his labours, whatever he undertakes and everything tied to it — is nothing but vanity and vexation of spirit. It never satisfies, and it is filled with sorrow and perplexity.
The sorrow here is not vague sadness. It grows out of what came just before.
A feeling of despair came over all his toil, as he thought of an heir who had not toiled. For what was there but pain and vexation in his employment, even in the night his heart refused him rest.
Behind the heir stands death. That is why he must hand the fruit to someone else.
It mars pleasure, it chills enjoyment, for it cuts off man just when he would sit down after years of toil to reap the fruit of his labour.
The toil in this verse is not ordinary work. One writer explains the word behind it, and points to where that drudgery finds its answer.
Then the other word, "perverseness," is rather "labour," or "travail." It is the word which, as we have seen, gives us the first part of the name "Amalek" — amal. It is not work: man in Eden was to work; but toil — the drudgery of work, above all the drudgery that a heart away from God drives us to... And from this the grace of God in Christ would draw us away: "Come to me, all who labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."
Two things keep him awake. What he owns is too small for his soul, and he must leave it behind.
In Ecclesiastes, Solomon says there is no good thing under the sun, and that 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 thinking of himself, it was all I, I, I, I did it, and I found it vanity.
Some readers stumble over a verse this bleak. Commentators draw a line between what God records and what God Himself asserts.
The explanation lies in the difference between revelation and inspiration. Not all Scripture is direct revelation from God. Some of it is history in which the sayings of evil men and even of Satan are recorded. A book like Ecclesiastes is largely the record of Solomon's thoughts, reasonings and disappointments. He was looking for happiness in satisfying his natural desires. Yet all is given to us by inspiration of God. The accounts of what was done or said are divinely accurate. God led Solomon to record his mental struggles with such divine fitness that they profit us for warning and correction.
If the night gives no rest, the answer is not harder effort. Commentators point to the opposite of this restless night: rest that comes as a gift.
The obvious contrast is between securing something by our own efforts and looking for it as God's gift... Quiet of mind and restful enjoyment can never be gained as the fruit of our own toil. God is the giver of all repose to His beloved. Once they accept this simple truth, they stop being anxious and stop their worried labour. He keeps them in perfect peace, whatever the outlook, with their minds resting on Him.
- Standpoint. "Under the sun" marks the whole search: earth only, natural reason only, and therefore sorrow and perplexity as the result.
- Cause. The grief starts with an heir who never toiled, and behind him with death, which cuts a man off just as he sits down to enjoy the harvest.
- Word. The term is not "work" but toil — drudgery driven by a heart away from God, the very thing Christ invites the weary to bring to Him.
- Sleeplessness. No earthly object is big enough for an immortal soul, and no dying man rests in what he must die out of.
- Answer. Effort never earns rest of mind; God gives it. That is why the record of Solomon's despair stands in Scripture, to warn us.
There is nothing good for man, but that he should eat and drink, and that he should make his soul enjoy good in his labour. This also I saw, that it was from the hand of God.
Solomon writes this line at the end of a long experiment. He had tried pleasure, building projects, wisdom and folly. None of it gave him lasting profit. So is "eat and drink and find enjoyment" God's counsel for a happy life? Or is it the best a man can manage when he looks no higher than this world?
The verse is a landing point, not a starting point. One commentator traces the failed attempts that come just before it:
So mirth is tried next... It was all in vain, and the feeling of disappointment returns. Might not activity in great works succeed better? Solomon tried this and carried it out with extraordinary diligence and splendour. But looking back over all this work he did and the toil he toiled at, he could rest in none of it. The whole was vanity and distress of spirit, and no profit under the sun.
The chapter that leads up to this verse is crowded with one word. A writer counts how often the speaker says "I":
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 second half of the verse changes the tone of the first. Food and work come to him from God's hand:
The conclusion reached in verses 24-26 is to receive thankfully what comes from the hand of God. He gives man good in His sight: wisdom and knowledge and joy. But to the sinner He gives hard labour, to gather and heap up, so that it may be given to the one who is good in God's sight. And what is this but vanity and distress of spirit?
Owning food, drink and work is not the same as being able to take pleasure in them. That distinction is the point the searcher finally reaches:
The conclusion reached is that, apart from God, man has no capacity to enjoy his labour.
Ecclesiastes reasons only from what a man can see "under the sun". That is why some of its lines sound almost faithless:
This book gives us the experience of man, and the reasonings of man, on all that happens under the sun. Remember that, and there is no difficulty in those passages that have the appearance of unbelief. The experience of man is necessarily unbelieving. He confesses his ignorance; for beyond what is seen, experience can know nothing. But the solution of all moral problems is above and beyond what is seen. The only rule of life then is to fear the God who controls our life, and who judges every action. There is no question, in this book, of grace or of redemption, but only of the experience of this present life.
Some read the verse as a sober, thankful conclusion. Others read it far more sharply — as Solomon's own poor thinking, faithfully preserved for our warning:
We must never overlook the difference between revelation and inspiration. All Scripture is inspired by God, but not every word found in it is a revelation from God. Take what Solomon wrote, for instance: "There is nothing better for a person than that he should eat and drink…" He was not speaking a revelation from God. He was speaking his own foolishness — inspired to put it on record for our warning.
The same writer then applies that test to this verse:
Is this a revelation from God? Is it God's voice telling us that food and drink are, after all, the highest good? Emphatically no! What, then? It is the divinely inspired record of the extreme folly that the wisest of men may be led into if he has no light above his natural reason and observation. And how good of God to give us a glimpse of this in His inspired record.
Whatever weight we give the advice, no one claims it satisfies. The book's own repeated phrase marks the boundary:
We may sum it all up in a brief sentence. Man under the sun, whatever he does, finds no satisfaction. All his labours, all his riches, all his seeking for good, all his achievements cannot give what the soul of man craves and needs... What man needs is not anything "under the sun" but what is "from above the sun."
- Search. Solomon tried mirth, wine, wisdom, folly and vast building projects. He could rest in none of it. The whole was vanity and no profit under the sun.
- Self. Chapter 2 says "I" sixteen times in nine verses: the chapter of the self-gratified "I."
- Gift. The counsel is to receive with thanks what comes from God's hand. Even the ability to enjoy your own work is not in man apart from God.
- Limit. The book records man's experience and reasoning under the sun. Experience knows nothing beyond what it sees, so lines like this can sound unbelieving. Grace and redemption are not its subject; its one rule of life is to fear God, who judges every action.
- Above. Commentators differ. Is this a sober conclusion, or Solomon's folly recorded for our warning? Both agree on one thing: what man needs is not found under the sun, but above it.
For who can eat, or who be eager, more than I?
Solomon has just said that even the simple enjoyment of food and work comes from God's hand, and here he presses the point home. Some older translations read the line differently — "who else can hasten (or enjoy) more than I?" — yet both readings raise the same issue: no one produces enjoyment for himself.
The man asking was not shut out from pleasure. He had everything a human being could want, which is why his verdict carries weight.
God gave him wisdom greater than all who came before him, and no one after him has ever matched it. He was king in Jerusalem. He held wealth beyond any ruler the world has ever seen ("for silver was counted as nothing in the days of Solomon"). All that wealth could buy, all that power could command, all that wisdom could search out — he could enjoy and understand. "What," then, "can the man do who comes after the king?" "Who can eat, or who else can hasten (or enjoy) more than I?"
Owning food and being able to enjoy it are two different things. This verse settles where the second one comes from.
The conclusion reached is that, apart from God, man has no capacity to enjoy his labor.
If the power to enjoy is His to give, the fitting response is an open hand, not a grasping one. One writer sums up how the chapter closes:
The conclusion in verses 24-26 is to receive with thanks what comes from the hand of God. He gives man good in His sight — wisdom and knowledge and joy. But He gives the sinner toil, to gather and heap up, so that it goes to the one who is good in God's sight. And what is this but vanity and frustration of spirit?
The problem was never a shortage of supply. The human heart is too large for any created thing to fill — and only God can enlarge it and fill it.
No human object could satisfy an immortal soul. A dying man could not find rest in what he was about to die and leave behind… We need a large capacity for the enjoyment of God Himself — a capacity that none but God can give and none but God can fill.
Another writer starts from the opening image of the book.
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 can never 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.
Commentators differ here. Some, as above, treat them as a real call to receive God's gifts with thanks. Others read them as the inspired record of where human reasoning ends up when it stays under the sun.
Do you need an illustration of this? Turn to Ecclesiastes 2:24: "There is nothing better for a person than that he should eat and drink and find enjoyment in his toil." Is this a revelation from God? Is it God's voice telling us that food and drink are, after all, the highest good? Emphatically no! What then? It is the God-inspired record of the extreme folly the wisest of men can be led into if he has no light above his own natural reason and observation. And how good of God to give us a glimpse of this in His inspired record!
- The tester. The question comes from the one man who could try everything wealth could buy, power could command and wisdom could search out. No one can say he lacked the means to enjoy life.
- The verdict. Apart from God, man has no capacity to enjoy his own labor. The goods and the gladness are two separate things.
- The source. The ability to enjoy is a gift. So receive with thanks what comes from the hand of God, instead of gathering and heaping up.
- The capacity. No created object can satisfy an immortal soul. Only God can give the capacity to enjoy Him, and only God can fill it.
- The caution. Commentators differ. Is this conclusion God's counsel, or a record of how far reasoning gets when it stays under the sun? Read it alongside the rest of Scripture, not on its own.
For he giveth to a man that is good in his sight wisdom, and knowledge, and joy; but to the sinner he giveth travail to gather and to heap up, that he may give to him that is good in God's sight. This also is vanity and pursuit of the wind.
This chapter's great experiment ends with a split: God gives one man wisdom, knowledge and joy, and gives another only the work of piling up wealth for someone else to spend. Yet the verse ends in the same verdict as everything before it, so why is a verse about God's gifts filed under emptiness?
Chapter 2 records a man trying everything and resting in nothing. The last three verses turn from what he grabbed at to what God hands him:
The conclusion reached in verses 24-26 is to receive thankfully what comes from the hand of God... And what is this but vanity and vexation of spirit?
The verse does not say that the good man works harder for his joy. It says God gives it. The chapter proves it the hard way. A man can own everything and still not taste it:
The conclusion reached is that, apart from God, man has no capacity to enjoy his labour.
The man who pleases God receives three things: wisdom, knowledge and joy. One writer takes up the third and shows both its worth and its limit:
Natural joy is very precious. According to the Preacher in Ecclesiastes 2:26, it is one of three things that God gives to a man who is good in His sight. Natural goodness, under the government of God, brings its own reward of natural joy. But the joys of nature soon fade when the trials and sorrows that man inherits arrive. In the end the tested soul discovers that all is vanity and vexation of spirit.
The second half of the verse describes a transfer: what one man piles up, another ends up holding. One writer explains who that other man is, and why the wealth moves:
A good man is like the One who found him evil, and by grace made him a sharer in the divine nature, escaping the corruption that is in the world through lust. The wealth of the sinner, great as it may seem, is stored up for the just. Ungodliness may prepare, devise, and pass on an estate; but God cares for those who serve Him. So the just will put on the clothing meant for others, and the innocent will divide the silver, if He sees fit.
If God is handing out wisdom and joy, why does the sentence end in emptiness? Because of what this book is measuring — happiness built out of things below, in a world where evil is present:
Evil is here. In a world like this, God's government does not work to secure happiness for man down here — a happiness drawn from the things below and resting on how stable they are. Yet as a general rule it does protect those who walk with God.
This book is honest about its own limits. It reports what a man can see and reason out under the sun, and stops there:
This book gives us the experience of man, and the reasoning of man, about all that happens under the sun. Remember that, and the passages that look like unbelief cause no difficulty. Man's experience is bound to be unbelieving. He confesses his ignorance; for beyond what is seen, experience can know nothing. But the answer to every moral problem lies above and beyond what is seen, and this book makes that clear... There is no question in this book of grace or of redemption, but only of the experience of this present life.
The chapter leaves a man with gifts he cannot hold and a hunger nothing under the sun will fill. One writer names who can end 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."
The same shortfall showed up at a wedding where the drink ran out, and what was served next was not more of the same:
The wedding feast at Cana of Galilee showed how quickly natural joy passes: the wine ran out. But there the Lord Jesus revealed a source of an entirely new kind of joy in the best wine of His own providing. This new joy is from God, and a person knows it when he receives the gospel.
- Given, not gained — wisdom, knowledge and joy come from God's hand. Receive them with thanks instead of chasing them.
- Capacity, not just contents — apart from God a man has no power to enjoy his own labour, however much of it he owns.
- Government, not luck — the sinner's heap ends up with the just, because God cares for those who serve Him.
- Fading, not lasting — natural joy is real and precious, but it fades under the trials a man inherits. That is why the verse still reads "vanity."
- Under the sun, not beyond it — this book records man's experience, with no word of grace or redemption. Only the One who invites the thirsty to come and drink can meet that thirst.