That feeling isn't new. In fact, the book of Ecclesiastes, or Kohelet in Hebrew, wrestles with it head-on. "I said in my heart: Come now, I will experiment in joy, and see goodness; and, behold, it too is vanity" (Ecclesiastes 2:1). It's a verse that gets right to the heart of our search for meaning.

But what does it mean, exactly? The rabbis of old, in Kohelet Rabbah, a Midrashic commentary on Ecclesiastes, dove deep into unpacking this statement.

Rabbi Pinḥas and Rabbi Ḥizkiyya, both quoting Rabbi Simon bar Zavdi, offer fascinating interpretations. Rabbi Pinḥas takes the phrase "I will experiment" (anasekha) and cleverly plays with the Hebrew. He suggests it means, "I will experiment with this, and I will experiment." He sees Kohelet as saying, "I will try matters of Torah, and I will try matters of heresy." It's as if Kohelet is deliberately exploring both paths, ultimately fleeing from the emptiness of heresy to the goodness of Torah. "And see goodness," Rabbi Pinḥas says, referring specifically to "the goodness of Torah." But then… "And, behold, it too is vanity."

Why "vanity" when Kohelet said "joy"? That’s the question! Rabbi Ḥizkiyya, also in the name of Rabbi Simon bar Zavdi, offers a powerful idea: all the Torah that you study in this world, as precious as it is, is nothing compared to the Torah in the World to Come. In this world, we struggle, we learn, and yes, we forget. It's a constant process of remembering and relearning. But in the World to Come? Jeremiah 31:32 tells us, "I placed My Torah in their midst." It’s inherent, internal, a part of our very being.

And the Rabbis say, continuing on this line of thought, that even the yetzer hara, the evil inclination, will melt before the good inclination in that future world. They cleverly interpret *anasekha</em> to mean "will melt" (yinatekh). The internal struggle we face here and now will simply cease to exist.

Rabbi Yona, again citing Rabbi Simon bar Zevid, takes it a step further, focusing on serenity. Any peace, any contentment, any sense of well-being we find in this world is fleeting, transient, "vanity" compared to the serenity of the World to Come. Why? Because in this world, as Rabbi Yona points out, we die and leave our serenity, our prosperity, our comfort, to someone else. But in the World to Come, as Isaiah 65:22 promises, "They will not build and another inhabit." The fruits of our labor, the peace we create, will be ours to enjoy eternally.

So, what's the takeaway? Is Kohelet just a pessimist, telling us everything is meaningless? Not at all. It's an invitation to look beyond the immediate, to recognize that true and lasting fulfillment isn't found in fleeting pleasures or even in the accumulation of worldly knowledge. It's a glimpse into a future where our struggles cease, where Torah is internalized, and where serenity is not borrowed or fleeting, but an eternal inheritance. It's a reminder that the pursuit of joy, while valid, should ultimately lead us toward something deeper, something more enduring.