The wisdom of a man illuminates his face, and the boldness of his face is changed" (Ecclesiastes 8:1).

Right away, the Rabbis ask: Who is this wise man? And their answer, in a move that might surprise you, is God. "Who is like the wise man' – this is the Holy One blessed be He," the text declares, pointing to Job 9:4, "Wise of heart, mighty in strength." It's a bold claim. But it sets the stage for understanding wisdom itself as something divine, something that originates from the source of all creation.

And what about “who knows the meaning of a matter?” That, the midrash explains, is because God "explained the Torah to Moses." It's a powerful image: God, the ultimate teacher, imparting divine wisdom directly to humanity's greatest prophet.

Now, things get really interesting. "The wisdom of a man illuminates his face..." Rabbi Shimon takes this in a fascinating direction. He says: "Great is the ability of the prophets, as they compare the [human] form to its maker." What does that mean? Well, the prophets, in their visions, sometimes describe God in ways that sound… well, human.

Rabbi Shimon cites Daniel 8:16, "I heard the voice of a man between the banks of Ulai." Another rabbi, Rabbi Yudan, chimes in, saying, hold on, we have an even clearer verse! He brings up Ezekiel 1:26: "And upon the likeness of the throne there was a likeness like the appearance of a man upon it, from above." The prophets, in their most profound moments of connection with the divine, perceive something… relatable. Something human-like. It's not to say that God is human, of course. But maybe it suggests that humanity, in its essence, reflects something of the divine.

Finally, the verse concludes, "and the boldness of his face is changed." The midrash interprets this as a shift in God's attributes. "He changes from the attribute of justice to the attribute of mercy regarding Israel." This is a key concept in Jewish theology: God is both just and merciful. Sometimes, the scales tip towards justice, other times towards mercy. But the midrash suggests that even God's "face," so to speak, can change, softening with compassion.

So, what does it all mean? This passage from Kohelet Rabbah isn't just about understanding a single verse. It’s about grappling with the very nature of wisdom, the relationship between humanity and the divine, and the dynamic interplay between justice and mercy. It invites us to see God not as some distant, unknowable force, but as a source of wisdom that can illuminate our own faces, and perhaps, even change the course of our lives.

And doesn't that give you something to think about?