A [good] name is better than precious ointment, and the day of death than the day of one's birth.
The Preacher opens a new stretch of his book with a saying that sounds backwards: perfume loses to reputation, and dying beats being born. Why would either be true — and does anything change once Christ has come?
The chapter changes tone here, and one writer explains what kind of wisdom follows.
Here the Preacher turns from the arguing style of what comes before to practical sayings that urge us to act, however paradoxical they sound. They are wise words in the middle of vanity and sorrow. They guard a man at a time when the evil cannot yet be judged by power or put right.
A second writer traces the reasoning behind these comparisons.
He starts off in a new direction; he turns moralist and philosophises on the better things. He climbs high with his reason and his conclusions. He had come to the view that life is not worth living. Riches and owning everything had turned out to be nothing but vanity. Perhaps being good, having the better things morally, and doing good, will satisfy the heart "in which eternity is set" — the soul of man. And so he makes his observations in seven comparisons.
So what was this ointment the Preacher weighs a name against?
It is used for "fatness, oil, spiced oil," and so for "ointment." On joyful occasions people anointed the head with it, Ps. 133:2, and Scripture elsewhere calls it the "oil of gladness"... The ointment would be more or less costly depending on the ingredients.
Translators add the word "good" before "name" here. One writer explains why the addition changes nothing.
It is usual to supply the word "good" in the opening clause. But this is so necessarily implied that it seems needless. Who could suppose that a false pretension is of any value? One's name in Scripture shows what a person is. The object of the heart determines the character, and here that name is taken to be excellent in God's eyes as well as in man's.
Weigh a name against money, and the poor man can come out ahead.
Better than great riches, better than silver and gold, is a name and loving favour. Suppose a person has riches, but also a bad name, and people do not think well of him. He is less honourable than a poor man with a name and a good reputation.
So why is death the better day?
Men do not think so, and act on it even less; but so it is, and the loss is beyond repair. The day of death closes the sorrow of the world, into which birth brings fallen man. No doubt Christ changes everything, but that is not the truth in view here. This passage deals with the present scene.
Who keeps a birthday in the Bible?
Scripture mentions only two birthday celebrations: Pharaoh's, Gen. 40:20, and Herod Antipas's, when John the Baptist lost his life. Matt. 14:6; Mark 6:21... We do not read that the Israelites had any such custom. And the Preacher says the day of death is better than the day of birth. Ecc. 7:1.
Christ changes the verdict on death.
Sin has ruined and confused everything here below. The only wisdom and righteousness was to look to One above the ruin, Who stays the same forever. Now that He has revealed Himself in His Son, this is far plainer. Death is the end of everything here below; but in Him is life, and those who believe have it in Christ. Before He came, death could not help being dreadful: even for the believer, the light beyond was very dim... Now we can call it gain, and very much better than the life of this world; for it is to depart and be with Christ.
- Better, not bitter — The chapter is a string of "better" sayings. They guard a person who lives in vanity and sorrow and cannot yet put the wrong right.
- Better than perfume — The ointment was for glad occasions and cost whatever went into it. A good name lost is a loss beyond repair.
- Better than riches — In Scripture a name shows what a person is. Translators add "good," but the sense is there already. A poor man well thought of outranks a rich man with a bad name.
- Better than birth — Birth brings fallen man into the world's sorrow, and death closes it. Scripture records only Pharaoh and Herod keeping a birthday.
- Better still in Christ — The Preacher speaks of the present scene only. Christ changes everything: death is now gain, since it means to depart and be with Him.
It is better to go to the house of mourning than to go to the house of feasting in that that is the end of all men, and the living taketh it to heart.
Ecclesiastes 7 opens a run of short, blunt comparisons. This one sends the reader away from the party and into the house of mourning, because death is the end of every person, and only the living can still take that in.
Commentators note a shift in tone at this point in the book. The argument gives way to advice for people who must live in a world whose wrongs are not yet put right.
Here the Preacher turns from the argument that came before to practical rules for living, however paradoxical they sound. They are wise words in the middle of vanity and sorrow. They guard a man while the evil cannot yet be judged in power or put right.
The same writer adds a limit. Ecclesiastes weighs life as it stands now.
The day of death closes the sorrow of the world that birth brings fallen man into. No doubt Christ changes all, but that is not the truth discussed here. This is the present scene. So there is profit in going to the house of mourning rather than the house of feasting. There is profit too in a rebuke from the wise rather than the song of fools, which is only noise and a blaze that lasts a moment.
The funeral is useful because the mourner is still alive and can still take it in. One writer notes how hard modern habits work to stop that.
So it is with death. There is a desire to keep death out of sight as much as possible. Ugly cemeteries must go. In their place come rooms for ashes, with beautiful flowers and no sign of death about them. People build crematoriums as temples of light. They cover even the coffin with a purple cloth and lay wreaths of flowers on it. But will this feverish desire to hide every trace of death alter grim facts? Will it do away with what comes after death? Certainly not.
The same writer then names who gains when people bury this lesson:
That is exactly what the devil does not wish — that survivors should lay the solemn teaching of death to heart. On the contrary, he wants every trace of such an unpleasant thing as death put out of sight. Hiding death, by whoever does it, runs counter to this Scripture.
One writer speaks straight to the reader who dreads funerals.
I don't wonder that you dislike funerals, and would not care to be alone in a room, or in a house, with a corpse. I don't blame you for fearing death, but it just shows, my friend, where you really are as to your soul's state. You do not know the fruit and effect of Christ's death.
Death cuts through what noise and busyness keep at bay:
It is not a difficult matter to avoid the preacher of the gospel and his warnings. It is easy, in the rush of business and the whirl of pleasure, to shut out all thought of God and eternity. But then death arrives, and it will not wait. It brushes aside friends, pleasures, wealth and daily pursuits, and everything changes. When the soul is left alone with death and eternity, the solemn facts of God and forever force themselves into view. God, sin and eternity must become intensely real in the hour of death.
For the believer, the lesson does not end in gloom. Sorrow proves the better teacher, and glory will show its worth:
It is true that we learn what life really is from our sorrows rather than from our joys... There is no shadow of doubt about this. When the tried and suffering saint reaches glory and sees things in heavenly light, he will realise that his trials in times of sorrow and stress taught him the most precious lessons, and proved to him what life really is... "And many a rapturous minstrel, among those saints of light, will say of his sweetest music, I learned it in the night."
- The setting — the chapter turns to plain wisdom for people living in the middle of vanity and sorrow.
- The fact — the day of death closes the sorrow that birth brought fallen man into. The funeral tells the truth the feast hides.
- The chance — only the living can lay it to heart, which is why hiding every trace of death runs against this verse.
- The signal — dread of funerals shows where a soul stands. It does not know the fruit and effect of Christ's death.
- The outcome — sorrow teaches what joy cannot. In glory the tried saint will see that his hardest hours taught him most.
Vexation is better than laughter; for by the sadness of the countenance the heart is made better.
Ecclesiastes 7 turns from argument to short, blunt sayings about life. This one flips ordinary instinct: a grave face does the heart more good than a party. The claim raises two questions — how does sadness improve anyone, and does it always?
The verse sits inside a run of "better than" statements. One commentator marks the change of tone at the start of the chapter.
Here the Preacher turns from the reasoned argument of what goes before to practical sayings that urge us on, however much they sound like paradoxes. They are wise words in the middle of vanity and sorrow. They guard a man while the evil cannot yet be judged in power or put right.
The same writer notes that these sayings deal with life as it stands now, not with life as Christ later changes it.
The day of death closes the sorrow of the world, into which birth brings fallen man. No doubt, Christ changes all; but this is not the truth under discussion here, only the present scene.
A note on the wording. The ESV says that by sadness of face "the heart is made glad." Older translations say "the heart is made better," and render the first word as "vexation" rather than "sorrow." Commentators quote it both ways, and both senses run through what follows.
Why should a sad face help? Because grief is where the real lessons land.
It is true that we learn what life really is from our sorrows rather than from our joys… There is no shadow of doubt about this. When the tried and suffering believer reaches glory and sees things in heavenly light, he will realise the truth. It was what he went through in times of sorrow and stress that taught him the most precious lessons, proving to him what life really is.
If sorrow is the better teacher, who arranges the lesson? One writer answers from this verse.
People have often asked why God allows the people He has set His love on to suffer this way. The answer is simple. It is because He loves them. There may be other reasons, but this is the main one… The wise man tells us, "By sorrow the heart is made better," and experience teaches us that this is true. How easily evil attaches itself to the best of us! But the furnace of affliction separates the dross from the purer metal and burns it away… Going through the trial is not pleasant. It would be no trial if it were. But a morning of joy follows the night of sorrow.
The verse is not a promise that pain makes people good. Sorrow singles a person out. What comes of it depends on whether God is at work in it.
Sorrow singles each of us out. That is part of the good of it, because in this way grace and God become personal to each of us too… Greater distresses purify and enlarge the heart, when they work under the good hand of God. This is by no means their necessary effect, however: apart from Him, they may harden and narrow it. But then apart from Him, prosperity will do the same; nothing is good, except as He works in it and through it for good.
Another writer adds a warning. People can grieve hard over losses that leave their souls untouched.
There is a mourning that is far from making anyone blessed. Many can weep over a dead child who cannot mourn over a crucified Saviour. Worldly sorrows hasten our funerals. The sorrow of the world works death.
Praising the house of mourning is not the same as moving in.
Those who suffer face a danger: giving all their days to grief. That means filling the mind with nothing but sad circumstances. How wise to turn to Him who makes all things work together for good! This makes the heart cheerful, which is, or has, a continual feast.
Commentators also differ in how much weight they give the Preacher's conclusions here. One reads the whole run of comparisons as the highest reach of human reasoning rather than revelation.
He starts off in a new direction; he turns moralist and philosophises about the better things. He climbs high with his reasoning and his conclusions… Perhaps being good, having the better things morally, and doing good, will satisfy the soul of man. That is the heart "in which eternity is set." And so he makes his observations in seven comparisons.
- Setting. These are wise words spoken in the middle of vanity and sorrow, guarding a man while evil still cannot be put right.
- Sorrow teaches. We learn what life really is from our sorrows rather than our joys — lessons only seen fully in glory.
- Love sends it. God allows His loved ones to suffer because He loves them; in the furnace the dross is burned away.
- Not automatic. Distress purifies only under God's good hand. Apart from Him it hardens and narrows — and so does prosperity.
- Not permanent. Giving all your days to grief just fills the mind with sadness. Turning to Him who works all things for good makes the heart cheerful.
The heart of the wise is in the house of mourning, but the heart of fools in the house of mirth.
Ecclesiastes 7 turns from long argument to short, blunt sayings. This one names two houses — one of mourning, one of mirth — and asks which one your heart calls home.
One writer notes the turn these sayings make, and the purpose behind them:
Here the Preacher turns from the argument that went before to practical sayings that urge us on, however contradictory they sound. They are wise words in the middle of vanity and sorrow. They guard a man while the evil around him cannot yet be judged in power or put right.
So these sayings are for people who still live in a world God has not yet put right.
The same writer weighs the two houses, and marks off what belongs to this present scene:
The day of death closes the sorrow of this world, the sorrow that birth brings fallen man into. No doubt Christ changes all; but that is not the truth discussed here. Here it is the present scene. So there is profit in going to the house of mourning rather than the house of feasting, and profit in a rebuke from the wise rather than the song of fools. That song is mere noise and blaze for a moment.
Two pairs stand together here: mourning with the rebuke of the wise, mirth with the song of fools. One pair teaches; the other only makes noise. Note also what the writer sets aside. Christ changes everything — but this verse measures life as it now stands, where birth brings a man into sorrow and death closes it.
The wise are not in the house of mourning because they enjoy misery. They are there because that is where the lessons are.
It is true that we learn what life really is from our sorrows rather than from our joys… There is no shadow of doubt about it. One day the tried and suffering believer will reach glory and see things in heaven's light. Then he will realise that his trials in times of sorrow and stress taught him the most precious lessons. They proved to him what life really is.
The house of mourning is also where reality becomes unavoidable. The same writer asks who we should ask about the value of things:
Ask the dying, not the living, what they think of things. Not one of them has ever said that gold, or honour on earth, or this world's pleasure was of real value to them on a death bed.
One writer describes what the fool's laughter is worth:
It may be noisy, empty and sparkling for a moment, and then it is put out forever. That, sadly, is what the so-called pleasure of the wicked is like. But what shall we say of the fearful condition of those who are feeling the sharp sting of sin after the pleasure is gone?
The fool's heart lives where the noise is. But the sparkle dies, and the sting of sin outlasts the pleasure.
The wise heart is not a miserable heart. One writer sets two kinds of gladness side by side:
The world finds a passing merriment in filthiness, indecent talk and clowning around. That does not suit a believer. The quiet, deep joy of praise suits believers, not the laughter of the fool.
Commentators differ on how to take these verses. One writer treats them as wise guidance. Another reads the opening of the chapter as the searcher's own reasoning, after everything else had failed him:
He starts now in a new direction; he turns moralist and philosophises on the better things. He climbs high with his reason and deductions. He had come to the conclusion that life is not worth living… Perhaps being good, having the better things morally, and doing good will satisfy the heart of man, the heart in which eternity is set. And so he makes his observations in seven comparisons.
On this reading, the search is still running: reason climbs high, and still asks what will satisfy the heart.
- Two houses. Mourning and mirth are two addresses, not two moods. The verse asks where your heart lives, not where it visits.
- Two teachers. The house of mourning goes with the rebuke of the wise. The house of mirth goes with the song of fools — "mere noise and blaze for a moment."
- Two lessons. Sorrow teaches "what life really is." The fool's laughter is bright, loud and quickly out, leaving "the sharp sting of sin after the pleasure is gone."
- Two joys. The wise heart is not sour. It trades "the laughter of the fool" for "the quiet, deep joy of praise."
- Two readings. Some take these sayings as wise words to guard a person while evil goes unpunished. Others read them as a searcher's own reasoning, climbing high and still unsatisfied.
It is better for a man to hear the rebuke of the wise, than to hear the song of fools.
The Preacher has been weighing what counts as "better" in a world where everything turns out empty. Here he sets an uncomfortable word from a wise man above the entertainment of fools — the voice that corrects you against the voice that amuses you.
Chapter 7 marks a turn in the book.
Here the Preacher turns from the argument of the earlier chapters to practical advice, however contradictory it sounds. These are wise words in the middle of emptiness and sorrow. They guard a man at a time when no one can yet judge the evil with power or put it right.
The rebuke of the wise is not a stray saying. It comes in a run of comparisons, and one question lies behind them all.
He turns moralist and philosophises on the better things. He climbs high with his reasoning and his conclusions. Perhaps being good, having the better things morally, and doing good, will satisfy the heart "into which He has put eternity," the soul of man. And so he makes his observations in seven comparisons.
Why does the rebuke win? The comparison turns on how long each one lasts.
So there is profit in going to the house of mourning rather than the house of feasting. And there is profit in a rebuke from the wise rather than the song of fools, which is mere noise and a flash for a moment.
The verse assumes a listener. Wisdom does not put a man past the need for correction.
We all need rebukes, even if we are wise. In fact, in being wise we will listen to rebukes and be corrected by them, and so remain in the company of those who are wise. But one who despises instruction despises his own soul. By taking rebuke to heart a man also gains understanding, and that understanding strengthens his fear of the Lord, which is the instruction of wisdom.
Correction also sorts people out.
Correction and reproof are for those who have an ear to hear, so that they do not walk inconsistently with what they profess. So we are told here: "Reprove a wise man, and he will love you." A wise man may not always walk the path of wisdom; he may need reproof. A fool is one who never listens, though he is always ready to find fault. A wise man listens and weighs; when he recognises what is of God, he will love you.
Not every pleasant word is harmless.
Here we see the extreme wickedness of fallen man. He is not content with deceiving. "A lying tongue hates its victims, and a flattering mouth works ruin" — ruin for the one who speaks as well as for the one spoken to. "Let a righteous man strike me — it is a kindness; let him rebuke me — it is oil for my head; let my head not refuse it." This is to humble yourself under God's mighty hand, and He will lift you up at the right time.
Two men stand side by side here. One shuts his ear; the other opens it.
The readiness to take reproof to heart is a rare and precious trait in anyone. Poverty and shame must belong to the man who has no ear for the instruction that enriches everyone, and that everyone needs. But what honour falls to the wise and lowly mind that welcomes and weighs reproof! Grace alone can make it real.
Wise as these comparisons are, they do not reach far enough.
He has used his highest powers of reasoning to reach these conclusions, like other wise men, moralists and philosophers. The sacred writings and philosophies of other nations run along the same line as this book, and they prove that Ecclesiastes is the book of the natural man: here reason speaks, and not revelation. But does this satisfy? Can a man reach perfection this way? His heart has passions he cannot control. Oppression drives the wise into madness; anger sits in his heart.
- Setting. These are practical rules for a world of emptiness and sorrow. They guard a man at a time when no one can put the evil right.
- Two voices. A wise man's rebuke stands against a fool's song. It is one of seven comparisons that test whether moral good can fill the heart.
- Which lasts. The song of fools is noise and a flash for a moment. The rebuke of the wise brings profit that lasts.
- Your answer. The wise man weighs correction and comes to love the one who gave it; the fool only finds fault. Take rebuke to heart and you gain understanding, and understanding feeds the fear of the Lord.
- The limit. Reasoning at its best cannot control the passions of the heart. Honour falls to the lowly mind that welcomes reproof, and grace alone can make that real.
For as the crackling of thorns under a pot, so is the laughter of the fool. This also is vanity.
Solomon sets a sound beside a picture: a fool's laughter, and dry thorns blazing under a cooking pot. The verse sits in a run of "better than" sayings, and it raises a sharp question about which joy is worth having.
Dry thorn twigs make a loud, bright fire — and a short one.
Have you ever seen a traveller's fire just lit? How merrily the thorns crackle! But how brief that crackling is, as the fire settles down soberly to the work of making the pot boil! This is a down-to-earth illustration of king Solomon's beautiful picture of the LAUGHTER OF FOLLY.
The point of the comparison is not that the laughter is loud, but that it cannot last.
The world's laughter is vanity. That fire of thorns soon burns out — that is the meaning of it. The laughter of the fool is like the crackling of thorns under a pot; there is nothing lasting about it. There is nothing lasting in the pleasures of sin.
The thorns do not just burn out later. The fire eats them at the very moment they sound most alive. No lasting happiness can rest on a fire like that.
Without being born again — without having this divine nature — there is no possibility of any lasting happiness. The worm of conscience gnaws at the roots of all the passing pleasures of the unconverted... Even while it crackles, the laughter of the fool is being consumed, never to be heard again. But the one who is born of God is brought into eternal relationship with God.
Ecclesiastes weighs life as we find it now. Verse 5 prefers a rebuke from the wise to the song of fools. Verse 6 says why: one of the two has nothing behind it.
Christ changes everything, of course. But that is not the subject here; the subject is life as it now is. So there is profit in going to the house of mourning rather than the house of feasting. There is profit too in a rebuke from the wise rather than the song of fools. That song is mere noise and blaze for a moment.
The verse does not condemn laughter in general. It names the laugher. Commentators apply the word "fool" to two very different people. One denies God outright. The other simply forgets Him while life goes well.
Tell me, stout-hearted unbeliever — does the word "fool" apply to you? You say there is no God. What does Scripture say? "The fool says in his heart, 'There is no God'" (Ps. 14:1). The scoffing laugh and unbelief go together. Take care. That laugh is the laugh of a downright fool. For see — the thorns crackle only to be consumed.
The second fool mocked no one. He was a rich farmer, comfortable and about to enjoy what he had worked for.
But that night God spoke to him: "Fool! This night your soul is required of you, and the things you have prepared, whose will they be?" He must go. He must leave his hard-earned wealth just when he was about to enjoy it! ...His laugh of good-tempered, sleek satisfaction was only the laugh of a downright fool. He forgot God, and his eternal loss was great.
The verse ends by calling this "vanity". What is left once the noise stops?
Noisy, empty, sparkling perhaps for a moment, and then put out forever. Such is the character of so-called pleasure where wickedness lives. But what shall we say of the terrible condition of those who feel the sharp sting of sin after the pleasure is gone? Is it not misery — great misery, even in this life? But what must it be when all its bitterness is felt in the place where hope never enters!
A writer sets a psalm beside this verse. The choice is not between noise and gloom:
"In Your presence there is fullness of joy; at Your right hand are pleasures forevermore" (Ps. 16:11). Ecclesiastes 7:6 is as true as Psalm 16:11... Which is the nobler, higher, more manly, worthier, wiser path? The boisterous, hollow, meaningless mirth of the worldly person, or the calm, real, lasting joy of the Christian?
Another writer sets the verse beside joking that does not fit a Christian. That does not make the Christian a sad figure:
In the presence of Christ we find joking out of place. It is not that the one who walks in the light of God's face is unhappy. There is not a cloud on the joy of the person who is in the presence of God. But such a Christian feels which things do not suit someone called to imitate God.
- Fuel — thorns burn loud and die fast; that short blaze is the whole comparison the verse makes.
- Fire — the blaze eats the laughter at the very moment it sounds liveliest, and then the sound is gone for good.
- Fool — the word covers both the scoffer who says there is no God and the comfortable man who simply forgets Him.
- Fallout — when the noise ends, what is left is the sting of sin — misery in this life, and worse beyond it.
- Fullness — the alternative is not a long face. It is calm, cloudless joy in God's presence, and it never burns out.
Surely oppression maketh a wise man mad, and a gift destroyeth the heart.
Ecclesiastes 7 collects short, blunt sayings about life as it really runs. This verse names two forces that can undo even a wise man: pressure from outside and payment from inside. Both hit the same target — his judgment.
These sayings are not abstract philosophy. They guard people who live under wrongs that no one has yet put right.
Here the Preacher turns from the reasoning of what comes before to practical sayings that urge us on, however much they sound like contradictions. They are wise words in the middle of vanity and sorrow, given to guard a man when the evil cannot yet be judged by power or set right.
The verse does not say a wise man turns into a fool by nature. It says his judgment is knocked off balance. Older translations render the second half "a gift destroys the heart" — the heart being his settled purpose.
The affliction of life, or oppression, tends to daze a wise man, just as a gift destroys the heart's purpose.
Ecclesiastes records a man reasoning his way to conclusions. This verse shows what reason cannot reach.
He has used his highest power of reasoning in reaching these conclusions… But does this satisfy? Can man thereby attain perfection? His heart has passions which man cannot control. Oppression makes a wise man mad (verse 7); anger is in his bosom (verse 9).
Why is it the wise man in particular who is pushed to the edge? His wisdom is part of the answer.
When he looks into what men do, he may learn the evils that are done under the sun — the crying injustice, the lawlessness, the frauds, the many acts of oppression practiced among men. He sees them, and finds he is powerless to stop them… Only another arm can hold back the lawless. Only a mind other than any of Adam's fallen children can find the remedy. The day of the Son of Man must dawn before One is found on earth able to put things straight… So wisdom may show its owner what is wrong, and make him feel the bitterness of it, while he knows all the time that he cannot correct it.
The second half of the verse describes something quieter than oppression. Jehoshaphat, a king of Judah, was won over by the generous welcome of King Ahab, a man he should have kept away from.
His snare seems to have been the gift of Ahab… He let his heart be warmed by Ahab's gift, and so he was more easily swayed by Ahab's arguments… We can never weigh up the world's arguments and suggestions with spiritual calm while we are breathing its air, or accepting its compliments.
The danger is not limited to people who take envelopes of cash. It reaches anyone whose own advantage is in play.
God's law forbids every form of bribery, because a bribe appeals to the feelings of the one who takes it. Where bribery is rampant, justice is almost unknown… Let us read the verse in its spirit as well as its letter. Self-interest can blind the eyes of a sincere Christian who would never for a moment think of taking a bribe.
God knows what long pressure does to a person. He sets limits on the rod He uses.
Their rescue from Babylon has taught them this. The Lord may for a time use the wicked as a rod of anger on His people, but He will not let that rod rest or stay on them. He deals with His rod in measure. He gives it a set length as well as a set severity, remembering in grace that the spirit might fail under an oppression that lasts too long. (See Ecc. 7:7)
- Pressure. Long oppression dazes a wise man. The verse shows what hardship does to good judgment, not what folly does to a fool.
- Payment. A gift works on the same man from the other side. It destroys his heart's purpose by appealing to his feelings, and self-interest can blind someone who would never take a bribe.
- Powerlessness. Wisdom shows a man the injustice and leaves him unable to mend it. Only the day of the Son of Man brings One able to put things straight.
- Limit. God measures both the severity and the length of the rod. He remembers that a spirit can fail under oppression that lasts too long.
- Purpose. These sayings guard a person while the evil still stands unjudged, and hold him steady until the One who can put it right appears.
Better is the end of a thing than its beginning; better is a patient spirit than a proud spirit.
Ecclesiastes 7 gathers a run of short, blunt comparisons. This one sets a finish against a start, and a patient spirit against a proud one. Both halves ask one question: can you wait?
The verse belongs to a shift in the book. One writer marks where the Preacher stops arguing and starts giving rules for living:
Here the Preacher turns from the argument of what goes before to practical advice, however much it sounds like a contradiction. They are wise words in the middle of vanity and sorrow. They guard a man at a time when no power can yet judge the evil or put it right.
The same writer ties the verse to what comes just before it. Oppression and a gift both knock a wise man off balance:
Again, the affliction of life, or oppression, tends to daze a wise man, just as a gift destroys the heart's purpose. So the end of a matter is better than its beginning, and longsuffering is better than being high-minded.
"Patient in spirit" is longsuffering — the ability to stay under something for a long time. Its opposite is not just hurry. It is a high opinion of yourself.
Pride and impatience are the same fault wearing different clothes. One writer shows how fast the will revives when the waiting drags on:
Patience must have her perfect work. If not, the will revives, and confidence in self with it, instead of confidence in God. We act without God, and apart from His will. We do not wait on Him. In any case, impatience and the flesh show themselves in us. Job was submissive for a long time, but patience did not have her perfect work. Saul waited long for Samuel, but he could not wait quietly till Samuel came, and he lost the kingdom.
Saul is the picture of the verse's second half. He nearly made it, and the last minutes exposed him.
The first half of the verse forbids early celebration. One commentator looks at David's strong start and refuses to call the match early:
All this is excellent; but all this does not amount to a well-fought fight and a stainless victory for David. It is not over even yet; such holy beginnings as these are not everything. The strength of the summer sun still has to test this promise of spring. The man who straps on his armour must not boast like the man who is taking it off. "You have need of endurance" is the word, and so we shall find it here with David.
Read from the far end, the verse is a promise. Job is the case in point:
This is the only road to true greatness. When Job reached this point, God gave him a double portion, so his latter end was more blessed than his beginning. So it always is. Whether we are stripped of human righteousness as sinners, or stripped of self-satisfaction as believers, the end is always for blessing. Those who are truly great before God are truly small in their own eyes.
The largest illustration runs from the Bible's first pages to its last. One writer sets the closing vision of Revelation beside the garden of Eden:
It gives us another illustration of what we read in Ecclesiastes 7:8, "Better is the end of a thing than its beginning". When we look at the tree in Eden, the way to the tree of life was soon barred because of sin. Here there are no cherubim guarding the way. The judgment has been dealt with by the Lamb. He has endured the flaming sword of God's wrath in judgment. The tree of life now stands alone and is open to all.
One caution is needed. This is a book of observation, not of revelation, and its horizon is fixed:
There is no question in it of grace or of redemption. It is the experience of one man, a king with wisdom and riches, about human life. He tries to solve all the contradictions in the world while he views them "under the sun." Only the wisdom that comes from above can solve them, or leave them unsolved in peace.
So the verse gives a true rule, but not its reason.
- Setting. These are wise words for a time when no power can yet judge the wrong or put it right.
- Beginning. No start counts as a victory; the man strapping on his armour must not boast like the man taking it off.
- Patience. Longsuffering is the opposite of being high-minded. Saul waited long for Samuel, could not wait quietly, and lost a kingdom.
- Proving. Stripped of self-satisfaction, Job got a double portion. Those small in their own eyes are the great before God.
- End. Eden's tree of life was barred by sin; at the close it stands open, because the Lamb bore the judgment. The end is better than the beginning.
Be not hasty in thy spirit to be vexed; for vexation resteth in the bosom of fools.
Ecclesiastes 7:9 warns against a spirit quick to take offence, and gives the reason: anger makes its home in fools. Two questions follow — why is speed the danger, and what is so serious about anger that stays?
These verses come after a long stretch of reasoning about life's emptiness. One writer notes the change of tone at this point in the chapter:
Here the Preacher turns from the reasoning of the earlier verses to practical advice, however paradoxical it sounds. These are wise words in the middle of emptiness and sorrow. They guard a man at a time when evil cannot yet be judged with power or put right.
So the warning lands in a world where wrongs are real and cannot yet be put right. The same writer ties the verse to the one before it, then states its double caution:
The end of a matter is better than its beginning, and patience is better than pride. And as it is well to guard against hasty anger, so especially against holding on to it.
The verse does not say anger visits the fool. It says anger lodges there — it settles in and stays. (Older translations read "rests in the bosom.") That staying is the mark of folly. It marks off a passing feeling from a settled state:
Anger is allowable in a believer, but must not be allowed to become a settled feeling. It rests only in the bosom of fools (Ecc. 7:9)… Personal anger is a very different thing. There may be plenty of provocation, no doubt, and human nature is weak… But keep anger as a lasting feeling and it becomes sin. In its results it is nearer to cursing than to blessing.
The test is not whether anger rises. The test is whether you give it a bed to lie in.
The verse condemns anger that is hasty and anger that stays. It does not ban every stirring of displeasure. Commentators point to anger that was right, and the difference lies in what provoked it:
Moses was rightly angry. Not because he was insulted and offended, but because Pharaoh stubbornly refused God's claims on him (Ex. 11:8). The Lord Jesus was angry, not because of opposition to Him, but because of hard-hearted religious men (Mark 3:5). May the Lord help us to ignore personal attacks of any kind and reserve our anger and resentment for attacks on the Person and interests of Christ.
Scripture gives a case study of hasty anger in a good man:
David was angry. He was furious. He and his men had been insulted by a hard and selfish man called Nabal… When David asked Nabal for some help, Nabal showed base ingratitude for all the help and protection David and his men had given his interests… David's reaction was understandable. He ordered his men to strap on their swords and follow him… Nabal's wife Abigail went out to meet David before he could take revenge. She gave the credit to the Lord: it was He who had restrained David and kept him from shedding Nabal's blood in revenge. David, she said, had been chosen to fight the enemies of Israel, the battles of the Lord. She rightly saw that he was wasting valuable time in avenging an insult from one of his own people.
Understandable — and still wrong. Hasty anger feels justified in the moment, and it took another person's wisdom to stop it.
One writer places the verse in the book's bigger argument. Anger man cannot control shows that human reason alone cannot perfect him:
Ecclesiastes is the book of the natural man: reason speaks in it, not revelation. But does this satisfy? Can man thereby reach perfection? His heart has passions that man cannot control. Oppression makes a wise man mad (verse 7); anger is in his bosom (verse 9).
The Christian is not left there. But the flesh — the old nature — has not changed since David's day:
The flesh in David that caused his anger is the same fallen nature that all Christians have. They can, and do, fall into the same trap… Christians are better equipped to deal with anger than David was. They have eternal life in the Son of God and have the Holy Spirit living in them. He is the power that enables believers in Christ to express the new life. What hinders the new life being expressed? The flesh. It cannot bear to be insulted or thwarted in any way.
- Hasty — the verse first attacks speed. In a world where wrongs cannot yet be put right, guarding against quick anger is plain wisdom.
- Resting — the deeper danger is anger that stays. Feeling it is human weakness; housing it is folly, and anger kept as a lasting feeling becomes sin.
- Righteous — anger is not banned outright. Moses and the Lord Jesus were angry — at God's claims refused and at hard hearts, never at personal insult.
- David — his fury at Nabal was understandable and nearly ended in bloodshed. Abigail's wisdom turned him back to the battles God had given him.
- Power — Ecclesiastes exposes passions man cannot control. The believer has the Holy Spirit as the power to express the new life. The flesh, which cannot bear an insult, is what blocks it.
Say not, How is it that the former days were better than these? for thou dost not inquire wisely concerning this.
The Preacher has been stacking up sayings about what is "better" in life. Then he turns to a question people keep asking: why were the old days better than now? He does not answer it. He rules it out, and calls the person who asks it unwise.
These sayings are practical, not theoretical. They are aimed at a world that has gone wrong.
Here the Preacher turns from the reasoning of the earlier verses to practical sayings that urge us to act, however strange they sound in form. They are wise words in the middle of vanity and sorrow. They guard a man at a time when no one can yet judge the evil with power or put it right.
The question assumes its own answer. And every golden age it points to had its own people looking backwards. The chain never ends.
I know there is a tendency to look back and say that the days that are gone were the best days. Sometimes people say an earlier generation had the best days. I have no doubt that generation was saying what wonderful days they had in the days of Wesley and Whitefield… If you had lived in Aberdeen and met Samuel Rutherford, he might have said, "Ah! if you had only lived a hundred years ago in the days of Luther." And Luther was looking back to the days of Augustine. He again was looking back to the days of the Apostles. So they were all looking back, and all looking the wrong way.
Commenting on Job, one writer treats the backward look as a symptom of something present.
It is nearly always a sign of present weakness if we have to look back to the past for marks of God's favour. It usually goes with pride in that past, as well as with discouragement in the present… The manna of yesterday will not do for today. The bright light of yesterday's candle is the burnt wick of today. A present Christ in all His fullness; a present Spirit ministering the Word to our need — these are the believer's proper theme and occupation.
The ban has a positive side. When a shrunken present discouraged God's people, He did not send them back to the glory days. He sent them ahead.
There is no greater source of weakness than the constant tendency to compare the present with the past… God's method is to lead His people to draw their strength from thinking about the future. Take the people who came back from exile. They were cast down as they built the temple, since it looked so poor next to Solomon's. The Lord's message to them was, "The latter glory of this house shall be greater than the former." And He kept unfolding before their eyes all the glory of Messiah's presence and reign, to support and encourage them in the present.
The verse can be misused. One writer warns against using it to wave away what the Bible says about evil growing in the last days.
It is easy to blunt and whittle away how awful these charges are. Ignorance naturally offers the excuse, and accepts it, that these evil traits have always been there. In a sense that is so. But the word of the Lord cannot be broken… As people departed from the word and Spirit of God, these evils grew and spread fast. Our own days look on an enormous increase of this harvest of shame and sorrow, and all the twists put on Ecclesiastes 7:10 are useless to get rid of it.
So the verse leaves something to do, not only something to stop.
Men come and go, but God is always with His people. Let us not live in the past, lamenting that "the former days were better than these"; let us rather lay hold on God for today, sure that we shall find Him as good to us as He ever was to His saints in ages past.
- The question — "Why were the old days better?" The Preacher will not answer it. He says the person who asks is not asking wisely.
- The trap — every generation praises an earlier one that was itself looking back. All of them look the wrong way.
- The symptom — needing the past for marks of God's favour shows present weakness. It breeds pride in what was and gloom about what is.
- The redirection — God sets the future before discouraged people: the latter glory greater than the former.
- The action — you cannot change yesterday. Lay hold on God today, and expect Him to be as good to you as He was to anyone before you.
Wisdom is as good as an inheritance, and profitable to them that see the sun.
All through this chapter Solomon weighs one thing against another, and here he weighs wisdom against money. His verdict is warm but fenced in: wisdom is good and it pays, yet it pays "those who see the sun."
The verse belongs to a run of short sayings, and one commentator marks the shift in tone that begins the chapter. The Preacher stops arguing and starts advising.
Here the Preacher turns from the argument that comes before to practical sayings meant to urge us on, however contradictory they may sound. They are wise words in the middle of vanity and sorrow, meant to guard a man at a time when no power has yet judged the evil or put it right.
So these sayings are not promises that life will go well. They are guidance for a world God has not yet put right.
Commentators read the opening words two ways. Many keep the sense that wisdom is good together with property: the two go well in one hand. Older translations render it "as good as an inheritance", making the phrase a comparison of value.
"Wisdom is good as an inheritance" (that is, it can be compared with one) "and it is excellent for those who see the sun."
On that reading, wisdom is not the servant of an estate but its rival — worth as much as land handed down.
The second half of the verse sets a limit. Wisdom profits "those who see the sun" — the living, here, in this world. One writer presses that boundary.
Again he mentions wisdom. It is a good thing, just as good as an inheritance; it profits to see the sun, but not above the sun. Wisdom and wealth are both good as a defence; both give life, animate the person who has them, give a certain amount of enjoyment. But can both wisdom and wealth give a solution to man's problem? Who can make straight what God has made crooked?
Wisdom buys a better life. It does not buy an answer to life.
Verse 12 names what wisdom and money have in common — and where they part company.
Wisdom with an inheritance is good and profitable here below. It is a shadow or shelter, as money is, yet how differently! For the advantage of knowledge is that wisdom gives life to the one who has it. So we see the folly of fighting against the goads, of having no sympathy with what God orders, whether joy or sorrow. Our true wisdom is dependence on Him.
Money shields; wisdom shields and keeps alive. The outcome is not self-reliance but leaning on God through whatever He sends.
No one was better placed to praise wisdom than Solomon. Even he hit a wall.
Again the Preacher speaks and discourses about wisdom. He acknowledged its value, for no one was more qualified than he was to speak of it. It strengthens the wise more than ten mighty men in a city. It is better than strength, he could say, and better than weapons of war. But here too the vanity of everything done under the sun made itself felt. He applied his heart to know wisdom and to see the business done on the earth. Then, as he turned to look at the works of God, he found a limit to how far his searching could go.
The limit is not a failure of effort. It comes with the vantage point: under the sun a man can watch God's works but never explain them.
If wisdom under the sun hits a ceiling, does anything come down through it? This book does not say.
Is there a higher wisdom and knowledge? There is, but in the book of the natural man it is unrevealed. What satisfies, what is not vanity and a striving after wind, is what 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 has come and gone, but He brought to the poor thirsting and hungry heart of man the true knowledge. He who died for our sins and is now back above the sun is the One "in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge" (Colossians 2). What alone can satisfy is Christ.
- Setting — These are practical sayings for a world God has not yet put right. They are not promises of an easy life.
- Value — Wisdom ranks with an inherited estate. It is real capital, and Solomon said so from experience.
- Shelter — Money and wisdom both cover a man, but only wisdom keeps its owner alive. The response is dependence on God, not self-confidence.
- Reach — The profit is for "those who see the sun." Wisdom improves life here. It cannot straighten what God has made crooked.
- Beyond — The higher wisdom is not found in this book at all. It came down from above the sun in Christ, in whom all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge are hidden.
For wisdom is a defence [as] money is a defence; but the excellency of knowledge is, [that] wisdom maketh them that possess it to live.
Ecclesiastes 7:12 sets two shelters side by side: wisdom and money. Both shelter a man, but only one keeps its owner alive. So what life does wisdom give that money cannot buy?
One commentator explains why the Preacher changes gear here, from argument to advice.
Here the Preacher turns from the reasoning that came before to practical advice, however strange it sounds. They are wise words in the middle of vanity and sorrow. They guard a man at a time when no power can yet judge the evil or put it right.
One commentator holds both shelters together, then marks where they part.
Wisdom with an inheritance is good and profitable here below. It is a shadow or shelter, as money is, yet how differently! For the excellence of knowledge is that wisdom gives life to the one who has it. So it is folly ... to lack sympathy with what God orders, whether joy or sorrow. Our true wisdom is in dependence on Him.
One commentator renders the verse this way, making wisdom the actor in the second half.
"Wisdom is a protection, money is a protection: but knowledge is excellent." "Wisdom causes to live, those who have it."
The Preacher does not sneer at wealth. He grants it a real, God-given use, then shows where the shelter runs out.
Money is a defence (Chap. 7:12); it is God's gift; yet how often do men feel the vanity of it all. He craves it and works for it as the one great good. He gets wealth, fills his money-chests, and is still not satisfied... Riches cannot satisfy the soul. They cannot buy off death. And their owner cannot be sure of keeping them tomorrow.
The Preacher rates wisdom high. But his search still ran into a wall.
He acknowledged its value, for none were more competent than he was to speak of it. It strengthens the wise more than ten mighty men in the city. It is better than strength, he could say, and better than weapons of war (Chap. 7:11-19; 9:16, 18). But here too he felt the vanity of everything done under the sun. He set his heart to know wisdom and to watch the business people do on the earth. Then he turned to look at the works of God, and he found a limit to how far his search could go.
Another writer weighs what wisdom and wealth both give, then asks what neither can do.
Again he mentions wisdom. It is a good thing, just as good as an inheritance; it profits to see the sun, but not above the sun. Wisdom and wealth are both good as a defence. Both give life. They put life into the person who has them, and give a certain amount of enjoyment. But can wisdom and wealth together give a solution to man's problem? Who can make straight what God has made crooked?
Commentators differ over the accent: one hears real praise of wisdom, another presses its limits. The book itself lands somewhere simpler than either wisdom or money.
The chief subject of this book is the folly of all man's efforts to find happiness here below. And the wisdom that judges all this only makes man still more unhappy. Then all this experience, from one who had the highest capacity, is set in contrast with the simple principle of all true wisdom — submission and obedience to God, who knows all things and governs all things, because "God will bring every deed into judgment."
- Shade — Wisdom and money are both shelters. Each is a shadow you can stand under.
- Shade that fails — Money is God's gift and has a real use. But it cannot satisfy the soul, it cannot buy off death, and its owner cannot be sure of keeping it tomorrow.
- Shade that lives — Wisdom's advantage is not a better shelter. It "causes to live": it gives life to the one who has it.
- Shade with a ceiling — Wisdom profits under the sun, not above it. The Preacher searched until he hit a limit he could not pass.
- The One who gives shade — The book's answer is not more wisdom or more money. It is dependence on God, in submission and obedience. He governs all things and will judge every deed.
Consider the work of God; for who can make straight what he hath made crooked?
Ecclesiastes 7:13 sits among short, practical sayings about wisdom and wealth, and it turns your eyes to God's hand behind your life. The command is to look at what God has done — and the question that follows shuts the door on any hope of undoing it.
The book's speaker is called the Preacher. One commentator reads his words here as advice for a man who cannot change the conditions he lives in.
Here the Preacher turns from the argument before it to practical advice, however strange its form. These are wise words in the middle of emptiness and sorrow. They guard a man at a time when no power can yet judge the evil or put it right.
The call to look sounds open-ended. But the Preacher's own search ran into a wall.
He set his heart to know wisdom and to see the business done on the earth. As he turned to look at the works of God, he found a limit to how far his search could go. And as he looked at the works of men, he felt the misery and ruin that sin had brought in all the more. […] Man is only a finite being, unable to fathom the infinite. There are fields of knowledge beyond his power to explore, or even to reach.
Wisdom is worth having, and so is wealth. One commentator asks whether either one can solve man's real problem.
But can both wisdom and wealth give a solution to man's problem? Who can make straight what God has made crooked? His ways are mysterious. Man cannot solve them. He cannot work out God's providential dealings.
Commentators differ here. Gaebelein hears in such words the limit of human reasoning. Kelly hears practical advice meant to guard a believer in an evil time.
Wisdom sharpens your sight without giving you power. A man can see every injustice under the sun and still not lift a finger against it.
He turns to look into what men do. He may learn the evils done under the sun — the crying injustice, the lawlessness, the frauds, and the many acts of oppression men practise all the time. He sees them, and finds he has no power to stop them. Only another arm can restrain the lawless. Only a mind other than any of Adam's fallen descendants can find the remedy. […] So wisdom may show its owner what is wrong, and make him feel the bitterness of it, while he knows the whole time that he has no power to correct it.
If God has bent something, straining against it is not courage but foolishness. The alternative is not passivity, but leaning on the One who arranged it.
So we see the folly of fighting against the goads, and of having no sympathy with what God orders, whether of joy or of sorrow. Our true wisdom is in dependence on Him.
So who is that other arm? One commentator answers with a Person and a coming day.
Thank God, the crooked places will be made straight. The mountains of human pride will come down, and the valleys will be lifted up. One who can grapple with all earth's problems is coming. He will put the world right. In that hour how will you stand? You need not wait to know. You may know as you now ask your own heart, "What is my present attitude towards Christ?"
- Consider — Start by looking at God's work, not your own. The honest looker soon meets a limit he cannot pass.
- Crooked — A hand above you bent what is bent in your life. No man can work out God's providential dealings.
- Cannot — Wisdom shows you what is wrong and makes you feel it. It gives you no power to correct it, and money is no better.
- Cease — God ordered the crookedness, so fighting it is like kicking a goad. True wisdom depends on Him and goes along with what He sends, joy or sorrow.
- Coming — The question "who can?" has an answer outside yourself. One is coming who will make the crooked places straight and put the world right. So your attitude to Christ now is the practical question.
In the day of prosperity enjoy good, and in the day of adversity consider God hath also set the one beside the other, to the end that man should find out nothing [of what shall be] after him.
The verse just before this one asks who can straighten what God has made crooked. This verse turns that question into a rule for living, and it raises two more: why does God pair the good day with the hard day, and why does He hide which one is coming next?
One writer ties this pairing to the crooked things no one can straighten:
Who can make straight what God has made crooked? His ways are mysterious. No one can work them out. No one can explain how God governs events. Adversity follows prosperity, and prosperity follows adversity; He sets one over against the other. But who can use his reason or his wisdom to find out what God will do in the future, or what His dealings will be?
That is the point of the last line. God swaps the days on purpose. No one can read the pattern well enough to see what will come after him.
So what should a person do with days he did not choose? One writer answers in a sentence:
So it is folly to struggle against God's prodding, and folly to have no sympathy with the joy or sorrow He orders. Our true wisdom is dependence on Him.
The same writer says who this advice is for:
They are wise words for a world of emptiness and sorrow. They guard a person at a time when no one can yet judge the evil with power or put it right.
The good day and the hard day press on us in opposite ways. So each calls for a different response. One writer names the temptation in each, and a man who met it:
On our path through this world, seasons of adversity or times of prosperity may test us, as they tested the Apostle. In adversity the devil may tempt us to lose confidence in God and to question His ways of love. In prosperity we may grow self-confident and forget God. So adversity tested Job, and prosperity tested David.
The day you are in tells you nothing certain about how God regards you. One writer says it plainly, and points to a psalm that wrestles with the same puzzle:
First, worldly prosperity and celebration may well be the fruit of God's care and His dealings behind the scenes. Even so, it is not necessarily a sign of His approval, and affliction is not a sign of His disapproval. Job's case shows this far more strikingly. Second, take what Hebrews 12:6 says: "the Lord disciplines the one He loves." Read Psalm 73, and we find the same problem troubling the writer. He saw clearly wicked people prospering, while God chastened the godly. Only when he went into the sanctuary of God did he find the solution.
Sorrow does not do a person good on its own. It can also do the opposite:
Sorrow singles each of us out, and that is part of the good of it. In this way grace and God become personal to us too… Under the good hand of God, greater distress purifies and enlarges the heart. That is by no means what distress always does, though. Apart from Him it may harden and narrow the heart. But apart from Him prosperity will do the same. Nothing is good except as He works in it and through it for good.
- Paired. God sets the good day and the hard day one against the other — not as accidents, but as His arrangement.
- Hidden. The purpose of that pairing is that no one can reason out what God will do next.
- Tested. Adversity tempts us to question His love; prosperity tempts us to forget Him. Job met the first, David the second.
- Misread. Ease is no proof of His approval, and affliction is no proof of His disapproval. The writer of Psalm 73 found the answer only when he went into God's sanctuary.
- Trusted. Fighting the joy or sorrow He orders is folly. Nothing is good except as He works through it, so true wisdom is dependence on Him.