- So I hated life, because what is done under the sun was grievous to me, for all is vanity and a striving after wind. -
Have you guys noticed that this vanity word keeps popping up?
It’s easy to skip over these verses since it’s an idea you’ve already seen in the second verse of the book.
Remember how we broke down the book in the beginning? Part 1 is the poetic thesis. It’s telling you what the book is about.
From then on out, we are in part 2, the prose method, or perhaps the argument, explaining how what’s asserted in the first few verses is true.
When we encounter “vanity” verses, treat them as punctuations. They mark the end of examples where Solomon tried to find purpose and failed.
In short, they state, “Yes, this too isn’t a good answer.”
They act both as gentle reminders of what we read in the start of the book and as transitions to the next dismantlement of meaning.
So, with that said, let’s look back at Chapter 2 today. What have we learned so far?
We can break this chapter into two parts. Part 1 is verses 1-11, and part 2 is verses 12-17.
Remember how this chapter starts? Solomon decides to test his heart with pleasure, cheering his heart with wine, and throwing himself into good works.
He achieves more than anyone else before him, looks on all the pleasures and good works that will be left behind when he dies, and says – vanity.
Solomon then says, “Ah, but if meaning can’t be found here, then surely it’s in living a wise life!”
He wakes up because he begins to think about his legacy, what his children will do after he is gone.
The great part about being wise? That’s right. You can see what’s coming.
The bad part about being wise? You still die like all the other idiots.
So why does this make Solomon hate life?
Well, he hits the big parts of how most of us find meaning. You can’t enjoy, work, or reason your way out of the world’s suffering.
Remember the end of verse 1? Solomon had been applying wisdom to find purpose in everything under the sun. It wasn’t until that failed that he started again his search in earnest.
Why is this failure especially potent for Solomon?
Many of us are content to live with suffering if it means we can make the future better for others.
Manuel was a carpenter at the construction company I now work for. He is a first-generation immigrant who put two daughters through college, one who even interned with us.
He did all kinds of labor, even carrying 5-gallon buckets of concrete in both hands up flights of stairs to pour a concrete slab.
Why? For a better future for his children.
Remember verse 12? “For what can the man do who comes after the King?”
That’s why Solomon hated life. Not only would it be miserable for him, but he now realizes he can’t do anything to make it meaningful for his family as well.
Now, I’ll permit. I can buy that philosophy.
But who of us looks at a life like Manuel and says it wasn’t a purposeful life?
Why does that shocking disconnect between intellect and wisdom exist?
Perhaps because there is more to the story. Perhaps there is indeed a God who was willing to secure a brighter future for his children.
When we act on that knowledge, our souls sing in worship.