Ecclesiastes Chapter One, Universal Vanity

Ecclesiastes 1:2 “Vanity of vanities,” says the Preacher; “Vanity of vanities, all is vanity.”

Verse 2 quickly moves past the succinct introduction to one of the key points this book stresses: that of vanity, a word employed five times in this verse alone. The author refers to himself once more as the Preacher (essentially the title of the book under consideration). This preacher, whose sermon we are about to explore for the next twelve chapters, begins with a bountiful volley of vanity.

What is vanity? This question is actually two-fold. First, we must define vanity of itself. Oxford defines vanity this way: “Too much pride in your own achievements, or the quality of being pointless.” The Hebrew Tanakh renders the word “vanity,” as “futile” or “futility.” Futility further presses the simplistic expression of pointlessness. Vanity, or futility equates into pointlessness. There is no purpose behind its execution.

The second definition of vanity reaches not to the rendering of the word, but how the author employs it. Verse two concludes with a very broad, nigh-universal accusation: ALL is vanity. The theme of this book discusses purpose in life, and the preacher begins his sermon by simply, frankly, bluntly telling his readership: life has no purpose. All is vanity. The purpose men and women create for themselves ultimately boils down to utter futility, because personal purpose, or subjective purpose does not equate into ultimate or objective purpose. In other words, what we fill our time with is not equivalent to finding purpose, but artificially manufacturing purpose in lieu of possessing the genuine article. To that end, everything man says, thinks, or does is without real purpose, and therefore falls into the condemnation of the preacher, who labels every human endeavor as vanity. This too, then, can fall at least a little into the camp of Oxford’s first definition for the term: of people having too much pride in our own achievements. One must wonder if the author’s own work is included or excepted in this universal condemnation of useless effort for no purpose. The answer will be forthcoming as the book continues.

In a single verse the preacher mires human accomplishment and virtue in a cesspool of ephemeral value. It is a value posited by its maker, the person manufacturing the work, a value that is ultimately nebulous because it is subjective, prone to mutation when it is handled by others and ultimately forgotten as time turns the maker and his idea into dust or fodder for future generations that will think and speak of them just as subjectively. This book, taken at superficial value, is a journey into nihilism, seasoned by the hubris that touting man’s accomplishment of itself is something that can bestow lasting meaning on human existence. But men and their accomplishments, and the will that empowered and birthed them, live and die on the world stage, and the relevance of their effort does indeed seem to add up to sheer vanity. Every conqueror is countered by a pacifist, every materialist is rebuffed by a spiritualist, every movement spawns a counter movement, ad infinitum. The world turns as ancient ideas are given modern interpretations and updates, new only to the generations currently pondering them.

All, says the preacher, falls under the canopy of what he refers to as vanity. However harsh this indictment is, there is one descriptor that serves to narrow the intention of the author’s accusation. It’s an important one, though it is just three little words. Like the term vanity, which we will see used many times throughout the book, we must also pay attention to the phrase used in verse 3, which we will get to in due time, a phrase that provides clarification as to what, specifically, the preacher is preoccupied with sharing with his readership.