Ecclesiastes Chapter Two, The Failure Of Accomplishment

Ecclesiastes 2:10 Whatever my eyes desired I did not keep from them. I did not withhold my heart from any pleasure, for my heart rejoiced in all my labor; and this was my reward from all my labor. [11] Then I looked on all the works that my hands had done and on the labor in which I had toiled; and indeed all was vanity and grasping for the wind. There was no profit under the sun.

The preacher ventures into what may be categorized as rampant hedonism at this point. Oxford defines hedonism as, “behavior based on the belief that pleasure is the most important thing in life.” There is a modern American saying in our popular culture, “if it feels good, do it.” Or more to quote the musical artist Leon Bridges’ song title, “If it feels good (Then it must be).”

The preacher indulges in “whatever my eyes desired.” He spent 6 verses laying the foundation for how far his riches and influence reached. So he is speaking rather literally instead of figuratively when he tells his readership that anything he saw and desired, he indulged in. The man had multiple homes, gardens, slaves, singers, and concubines. More than purely sensual or aesthetic gratification, the preacher studied botany, zoology, ichthyology, not to mention his profound contributions and poetry and music, 1 Kings 4:32, 33.

Verse 10 culminates with the preacher extolling the virtue of his efforts. Or rather, he found that following through on whatever it was that he sought to accomplish was itself the reward for his time and trouble. His heart rejoiced in what he set it to, and that was his reward. What did the preacher set his heart to? We read earlier in the same verse that it was simply defined as, “any pleasure.” That is a risqué descriptor, to be sure. The prophet Isaiah spoke about the people of Jerusalem, and how God called on them to mourn and weep; but instead the citizenry were filled with joy and gladness, stating, “Let us eat and drink, for tomorrow we die!” Isaiah 22:13. Similarly, the preacher speaks in the same vein later, writing, “So I commended enjoyment, because a man has nothing better under the sun than to eat, drink, and be merry,” Ecclesiastes 8:15.

The pursuit of pleasure is the fulfillment of one’s life under the sun for many. They look beyond the now and see death, and so plunge into the moment, desperate to fill that moment with as much gratification as possible, because as the prophet wrote, tomorrow we die. In death pleasure is removed and our lack of purpose exposed. But in lieu of purpose we may indulge our senses and the flesh. If there is nothing above the sun and life on earth is all that is, then doing what is right or wrong, being wise or a fool, serves no ultimate end and does not commend or condemn the practitioner. The preacher later commends enjoyment, which he summarized in eating, drinking and being merry. The people of Isaiah’s time looked beyond their revelry to their ultimate purpose: to die. This fear of life’s termination prompted not mourning and weeping, but a frantic and perhaps pathetic attempt to cast up a veneer of purpose over the vacuous lives they lived.

Mankind craves purpose. If one ever wonders why someone joins a cult or clings to the most peculiar beliefs imaginable, it is because they seek purpose. They want to belong to a source of truth, and claim to have laid hold of something that defines the narrative not only of their own lives, but life in general. When that is denied to humanity, we will cling to whatever crumbs we may find, no matter what corner we find them in. The preacher commends materialism for the instant gratification technique. It sates the senses as long as one continues to amass or expand their ventures. For those consumed with greed, no amount of money will ever be enough to satisfy. For those who think that intimacy is the answer, love and sex are at best distractions that confuse and pollute the mind and body when one seeks to find purpose in them of themselves. Today materialism is a tenet of Darwinian Evolution, an explanatory theory whose explanation is exceedingly simple: there is none. There is no purpose behind existence in general or life in particular. Life is random and meaningless because it was entirely undirected and accidental. Modernity has lovingly embraced the concept that life “under the sun” is all that is, and it has reaped the toxic and fatal consequences.

The preacher finds momentary respite in lauding his ambitions being realized. Whatever he desired, he took. Whatever his heart craved, he did not deny himself. At first he sounds optimistic as verse 10 concludes, asserting that his reward was to bask in the fulfillment of all he desired set before his greedy eyes. But his greedy eyes became sick with a bad case of a reality check, and his view soured.

He looked on all that he accomplished. The Tanakh writes, “Then my thoughts turned.” The ESV states, “Then I considered.” The NASB and HCSB both use the word consider as well. Superficially and immediately he was satisfied, but as is the case with material acquisition, especially when someone seeks to derive meaning from it, or to somehow define themselves by it, introspection gives clarity. Things, no matter how grand, how expensive, how many, or how long it took to acquire, will not contribute to the pursuer. The preacher toiled, as he puts it, only to grieve in the end, complaining that all—indicating all of verse 4-9—was vanity. There was something immaterial that the preacher sought, and by its very nature nothing material could provide. Wine, houses and gold failed. He punctuates this point by reiterating that it was like grasping the wind. The wind is immaterial in the sense that one may not lay hold of it; it is an invisible and elusive substance that comes and goes, giving us glimpses of its presence, so to speak.

As does God, as the creation and the human conscience attest to everyday, according to Scripture, Psalm 19:1-4, Romans 1:20, 2:14, 15. There is the first serious glimpse of the book’s purpose, as it relegates materialism and hedonism to a dangerous distraction that helps one avoid considering the meaning of life under the sun instead of providing one. Nothing material, that is, nothing that stimulates and operates on man’s senses, substitutes for objective, universal purpose. As the preacher states, “there is no profit under the sun.” For all of his ventures, nothing profited him. Now that is not to say that such ventures cannot profit, but let us for the time being relegate material pursuit to a train car without an engine. The preacher is good at building and filling up train cars, but he is searching for an engine to drive these things, to direct them and by its presence and power, vest them with meaning. Can that be found under the sun? The preacher’s inquiry goes on.