That feeling of existential dread isn't new. In fact, it’s wrestled with in some of our most ancient texts. to a passage from Kohelet Rabbah, a collection of rabbinic interpretations on the Book of Ecclesiastes. It grapples with this very question, using the contrasting figures of Moses and Bilam to explore the value of wisdom and righteousness.
The verse in question is from Ecclesiastes 2:14: “The wise man, his eyes are in his head, but the fool walks in darkness.” Kohelet Rabbah interprets this quite powerfully. It says, "The wise man, his eyes are in his head – this is Moses; but the fool walks in darkness – this is the wicked Bilam.” Moses, the ultimate leader, lawgiver, and prophet of the Jewish people, is contrasted with Bilam, a non-Jewish prophet known for his attempted curse on the Israelites. Quite the pairing. The text continues: “I also know that one event will happen to them all, I said in my heart [like the fate of the fool, so will befall me]” (Ecclesiastes 2:14–15). Here, the Rabbah attributes these words to Moses himself. He's reflecting on the apparent similarities between himself and Bilam. Both are called prophets! So, Moses wonders, “Why did I become wiser? Why did I give my life for the sake of the Torah (the teachings)?”
It's a raw, vulnerable moment. Moses, the hero, is questioning his life's purpose. He sees that both he and Bilam share the title of "prophet," and he fears that their ultimate fates might be similar – forgotten with time. What was the point of all his effort, all his struggles, if he'll be remembered no differently than the wicked Bilam?
He laments, "For there is no remembrance of the wise man with the fool forever…everything is forgotten.” He anticipates a future where the Israelites, facing hardship, will cry out, “He remembered the days of old, Moses, his people…” (Isaiah 63:11). But will the nations of the world similarly invoke Bilam? Will they say, "He remembered the days of old, Bilam, his people?" The answer, of course, is a resounding no.
And that, ultimately, is the point. Kohelet Rabbah is suggesting that true wisdom and righteousness create a lasting legacy. While both the wise and the foolish may eventually die, their impact on the world is vastly different. Moses's actions, driven by his commitment to the Torah and his people, will resonate for generations. Bilam's wickedness, on the other hand, will be remembered with scorn. That's why the text concludes: “How can the wise man die like the fool?”
So, what does this mean for us? Maybe it's a reminder that our choices matter. That even when we feel like our efforts are insignificant, they contribute to a larger narrative. That striving for wisdom and righteousness, even when it's difficult, leaves a lasting impact on the world, one that transcends our individual lives. Perhaps the question isn't whether we will be remembered, but how we will be remembered.