The book of Ecclesiastes, or Kohelet as it's known in Hebrew, grapples with this constantly. And one particular verse, Ecclesiastes 8:10, has sparked a lot of fascinating interpretations. It says, "So I saw the wicked buried and come; they would go from a holy place, but would be forgotten in the city where they acted like that; this, too, is vanity."
Now, on the surface, it's about seeing wicked people getting a good burial and then… what? Coming back? Where are they coming from? Where are they going? The rabbis of the Midrash, those ancient interpreters of scripture, weren't content with a simple reading. They dove deep, searching for layers of meaning.
Kohelet Rabbah, a collection of rabbinic commentary on Ecclesiastes, unpacks this verse in surprising ways. The Midrash asks: Who is this wicked person who died and came back? Rabbi Yehuda bar Simon challenges us: Is it about the dead of Ezekiel’s vision in Ezekiel 37? But those were righteous people! Is it about the son of the woman from Tzorfat (I Kings 17)? But he wasn’t even buried! Is it about Tzidkiya ben Kenaana, the false prophet? The Midrash identifies him as the wicked man whose remains were thrown into the prophet Elisha’s burial cave, as told in II Kings 13:21. The story goes that contact with Elisha’s bones miraculously brought him back to life – but only temporarily! The verse specifies that "he stood on his feet" (II Kings 13:21), emphasizing that his revival was just for that moment, to separate him from the righteous Elisha.
What does "and come" (vava’u) even mean in this context? Rabbi Shmuel offers a different take altogether. He suggests it's not about resurrection, but about ritual purity. "Their sun set and they were purified," he says, linking it to Leviticus 22:7: "The sun will set [uva] and he will be purified." So, instead of a literal return from the dead, it's about those who were ritually impure becoming pure again.
Rabbi Levi throws another log on the fire. He connects it to Job 15:20, saying, "All the days of the wicked, he trembles [mitḥolel]" – he is dead [met] and a corpse [veḥalal], just as you say: "You are a wicked corpse [ḥalal]" (Ezekiel 21:30). It's a stark image, painting the wicked as perpetually tormented, even in life.
But wait, there's more! Another interpretation suggests it's about proselytes, converts to Judaism, who come and repent. "They would go from a holy place" – the synagogues and study halls. "But would be forgotten in the city" – their wicked deeds will be forgotten. "Where they acted like that" – and the good deeds they performed in the city will be found.
And what about that final line, "This, too, is vanity"? Rabbi Yitzchak challenges this, saying it's not entirely vanity, but it is vanity "that they do not come on their own." Rabbi Bon expands on this, pointing to examples like Joseph and Asenat, Joshua and Raḥav, Boaz and Ruth, and Moses and Ḥovav. In each of these pairings, a righteous individual directly influenced a gentile to become a righteous convert.
Finally, Rabbi Aḥa sums it up poignantly: "It is vanity only that the people do not come and sanctify themselves under the wings of the Divine Presence."
So, what are we to make of all this? It seems that Ecclesiastes 8:10 isn't just about the afterlife or the fate of the wicked. It's about transformation, about purification, about the potential for everyone to draw closer to the Divine. It's a reminder that even in the face of seeming injustice and meaninglessness – that "vanity" Kohelet keeps talking about – there's still the possibility of redemption, of finding holiness, and of making a real, lasting difference in the world. But maybe, just maybe, we need to actively seek it out rather than waiting for it to find us.