Ecclesiastes

The Preacher names a common evil he has seen under the sun: a man to whom God gives riches, wealth, and honor, so that he lacks nothing his soul desires — yet God does not give him the power to enjoy any of it, and a stranger consumes it instead. This is vanity, and it is an evil disease. He pushes the comparison to its most extreme point. Suppose a man fathers a hundred children and lives many years — a long life and a large family, both traditional signs of blessing. But if his soul is never filled with good, and he ends without even a proper burial, the Preacher says a stillborn child is better off than he is. The stillborn came in with vanity and departed in darkness, its name covered in darkness. It never saw the sun, never knew anything — and precisely because of that, it has more rest than the man who lived and never found satisfaction. Even if that man lived a thousand years twice over — two thousand years — and saw no good, does not all go to one place in the end? All the labor of man is for his mouth, and yet the appetite is never filled. And what advantage does the wise man have over the fool in this? What does the poor man gain by knowing how to conduct himself among the living? Better is the sight of the eyes — what is actually in front of you — than the wandering of desire. That too is vanity and vexation of spirit. What has been already exists and is already named, and it is known what man is. He cannot contend with one who is mightier than he. The more words there are, the more vanity increases — and what does man gain from that? The chapter closes with two questions the Preacher does not answer: who knows what is truly good for man in this life — all his days which he passes like a shadow? And who can tell him what will come after him under the sun?