The Book of Ecclesiastes, or Kohelet, wrestles with these very questions. It asks, "For who knows what is good for man in his life, all the days of his life of vanity, that he spends like a shadow? For who can tell man what will be after him under the sun?" (Ecclesiastes 6:12). Pretty heavy stuff, right?
But the beauty of Jewish tradition is that we don't just leave these questions hanging. We grapple with them, we debate them, we try to find answers, or at least, different ways of looking at them. And that's what Kohelet Rabbah, a collection of rabbinic interpretations of Ecclesiastes, does here.
According to Kohelet Rabbah 12, Rabbi Huna, quoting Rabbi Aḥa, shares a fascinating idea: King David made a statement, but didn't fully explain it. Then, his son Solomon came along and shed light on it. Conversely, Solomon made a statement that needed his father David to clarify. It's a beautiful image of intergenerational wisdom, each building upon the other’s insights.
Let's break it down. Solomon, in Ecclesiastes, asks: "For who knows what is good for man in his life… that he spends like a shadow?" The rabbis in Kohelet Rabbah dig into this idea of a "shadow." They ask, what kind of shadow are we talking about? Is it the shadow of a wall? No, that has substance. Is it the shadow of a palm tree? That, too, has a tangible presence.
Then David comes along and offers a crucial distinction. As we read in Psalms 144:4, "His days pass like a shadow." It’s not just any shadow, but the fleeting, insubstantial shadow of passing time itself.
But the conversation doesn't stop there. David also says, "Man is like hevel" (Psalms 144:4). Now, hevel (הבל) is a key word in Ecclesiastes, often translated as "vanity," "breath," or "vapor." But what kind of hevel is David referring to? The hevel rising from an oven? The hevel from a stove? Both have a purpose, a significance.
Solomon, again, steps in to clarify. He declares, "Vanity of vanities [havel havalim] said Kohelet" (Ecclesiastes 1:2). It's hevel to the highest degree, an ultimate transience, a fleetingness that permeates everything.
Rabbi Pinḥas adds another layer to this understanding. He points out that since our days are fleeting, numbered, and like a shadow, what real pleasure can we find in life? His answer? Engage in the Torah, which is all life. It's an invitation to find meaning in something eternal, something beyond the ephemeral nature of our existence.
And finally, Solomon offers a counterpoint to the despair of vanity. He declares that “A good name is better than fine oil” (Ecclesiastes 7:1). In other words, legacy, reputation, the impact you have on the world – that's what truly matters.
So, what do we take away from all of this? Perhaps it's this: acknowledging the fleeting nature of life isn't about succumbing to despair. It's about making conscious choices about where we invest our time and energy. It's about seeking meaning beyond the shadows, whether through Torah, acts of kindness, or building a legacy that outlasts our brief time "under the sun."