The book of Ecclesiastes, or Kohelet, grapples with this very human experience. "I returned and saw all the oppressions that are performed under the sun; and behold the tears of the oppressed, and they have no one to comfort them; and their oppressors possess power, but they have no one to comfort them" (Ecclesiastes 4:1). Heavy stuff, right?
Kohelet Rabbah, a fascinating collection of rabbinic interpretations on Ecclesiastes, dives deep into this verse. It's like sitting in a beit midrash, a house of study, listening to different rabbis unpack its meaning. What does it really mean to see oppression and find no comfort?
One interpretation, attributed to Rabbi Yehuda, sees this verse reflecting the plight of children who suffer because of their parents' sins. Imagine, as the text describes, children who die young due to their fathers' wrongdoings, standing in the World to Come alongside the righteous, while their fathers are relegated to the side of the wicked. They plead with God: "Master of the universe, did we not die only due to the iniquities of our fathers? Let our fathers enter [the group of the righteous] on the basis of our merits." But God responds that their fathers continued to sin even after their children's death.
It sounds harsh, doesn't it? But then, Rabbi Yehuda ben Rabbi Ilai, citing Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi (though some scholars, like the commentaries, think it might actually be Rabbi Yehoshua ben Ḥananya), offers a glimmer of hope. The prophet Elijah, zichrono livracha – may his memory be a blessing – will come and teach the children how to argue their case. They will point out that God's attribute of beneficence, of kindness, is greater than His attribute of punishment. If so, shouldn't their fathers be redeemed through their children’s merit? And God, acknowledging the strength of their plea, will bring the fathers to join their children. As it says in Zechariah 10:9, "They shall live with their children and return," meaning they return from descending to Gehenna – often understood as hell – rescued by the merit of their children. This highlights the profound responsibility each of us has to teach our children Torah, shielding them from Gehenna.
But the interpretations don't stop there. Rabbi Ḥanina sees this verse as a promise of redemption for those unjustly executed by tyrannical regimes, who are ushered into the World to Come even if they couldn't confess their sins before death. Rabbi Binyamin applies it to those who misuse their Torah knowledge for personal gain, appearing righteous but acting deceitfully. The text paints a vivid image: someone "clad in his caftan with phylacteries on his head," striking a pose of righteousness while being anything but. God, witnessing the tears of the oppressed, declares, "It is incumbent upon Me to exact retribution from them," quoting Jeremiah 48:10, "Cursed is one who performs the labor of the Lord deceitfully."
The Rabbis extend the interpretation to the nations of the world, emphasizing God's role as the ultimate defender of the oppressed. "Their Redeemer is strong, the Lord of hosts is His name; He will champion their cause" (Jeremiah 50:34).
Then there's Daniel the tailor's interpretation, focusing on mamzerim – those born from forbidden relationships. What sin did the mamzer commit? What is their connection to the parents' transgression? Rabbi Yehuda ben Pazi offers a surprising perspective: even the mamzer enters the World to Come. God acknowledges their exclusion in this world but promises purity in the future, referencing Zechariah 4:2: "And behold a candelabrum entirely of gold…and there are two olives upon it [with its bowl (gulah) at its top]."
The gulah, or bowl, becomes a point of discussion between two amora'im – scholars from a later period. One sees it as a symbol of exile (gola), representing the Babylonian exile and the Divine Presence's suffering alongside the exiled people. The other sees it as redemption (go'ala), referencing Isaiah 47:4, "Our Redeemer, the Lord of hosts is His name," and Micah 2:13, "The one who breaks out will go up before them…[with the Lord at their head]."
So, what does it all mean? This passage from Kohelet Rabbah isn't just about understanding a verse in Ecclesiastes. It's about recognizing the suffering in the world, acknowledging the complexities of justice and redemption, and understanding the multifaceted dimensions of divine compassion. It reminds us that even in the face of seemingly insurmountable oppression, there is always hope for comfort, for justice, and for ultimate redemption. And perhaps, most importantly, it reminds us of our responsibility to be a source of comfort and justice in a world that desperately needs it.