Ecclesiastes 1:13

“I the Preacher was king over Israel in Jerusalem.” The Preacher begins his own story with who he was. “Preacher” translates qôheleth, from a root meaning to assemble or gather. It names one who calls people together to teach them, a wise man sharing with a wider audience what he has gathered from long observation. The word is feminine in form, which may point to an office, the work of one who assembles and teaches, and the book uses it as his title. The opening line has already named him “the Preacher, the son of David, king in Jerusalem” (Ecclesiastes 1:1). Since then he has announced his theme, “Vanity of vanities” (Ecclesiastes 1:2), and described the wearisome rounds of nature and history (Ecclesiastes 1:4–11). Now he speaks as “I” and tells how he came to his conclusion.

The word for king, melek, names a monarch who holds royal authority. Yᵉrûwshâlaim, Jerusalem, was the capital, the centre of Israel’s government and of its worship, where the Temple stood. The Hebrew name has a dual form, explained as an allusion to the city’s two main hills, and the name probably means “founded peaceful”. A king over all Israel who reigned in Jerusalem stood at the heart of the nation, with every resource of the kingdom within reach. That is the point of the verse: the man who is about to weigh all that is done under heaven had the means to try it.

“And I gave my heart to seek and search out by wisdom concerning all things that are done under heaven.” The heart, lêb, is the whole inner person in Scripture: mind, will, feelings and moral character. To give the heart to something is to commit all of oneself to it, so this was a wholehearted undertaking. Two verbs describe the search. Dârash means to seek or inquire, and it is used elsewhere of seeking God in worship. Tûwr means to go about exploring, to search out or spy out. Together they describe a thorough exploration. His tool was wisdom, chokmâh, the power to observe, weigh and understand, and its field was “all things that are done under heaven”, every activity of men and every event of life on earth.

“Under heaven” here, and “under the sun” in the next verse, mark the book’s field of view: life on earth as people can observe it. “Under the sun” first comes in Ecclesiastes 1:3, returns in “there is no new thing under the sun” (Ecclesiastes 1:9), and runs through the whole book, twenty-nine times in all. “Under the heaven” comes back when the Preacher speaks of a time to every purpose (Ecclesiastes 3:1). Within that frame he weighs what life holds when it is seen from the earth alone, and the frame explains the sober tone of what follows.

Then he names the search for what it is: “this sore travail hath God given to the sons of man to be exercised therewith.” “Sore travail” is raʻ ʻinyân. The noun ʻinyân means a business, an employment or an affair, and raʻ means bad and is used for adversity, distress and what vexes. The phrase describes a grievous business, a task that weighs heavily and wears a person out. The Preacher gives this name to the search for wisdom, the pursuit Israel prized most, and he names God, ʼĕlôhîym, as the one who gave it. The struggle to understand life belongs to the way God has made us, and it is given to “the sons of man”, to all mankind.

The verb behind “exercised”, ʻânâh, here means to be occupied or busy with something. The search keeps people busy, and it humbles them too, because it shows how far human wisdom reaches and turns them toward their Maker. The book follows the same search through pleasure and through toil (Ecclesiastes 2:18–23), and brings it at last to the fear of God.

“I have seen all the works that are done under the sun; and, behold, all is vanity and vexation of spirit.” Râʼâh is the usual verb for seeing, and it also covers perceiving, considering and learning by experience. The Preacher speaks as a witness who has looked closely at all the works of men, and “behold” points to what he found.

“Vanity” is hebel, the key word of Ecclesiastes. Its base sense is a breath or vapour, and the Preacher uses it for what is fleeting, insubstantial and futile, here for a moment and then gone. The word describes how little lasts, and it passes no verdict of moral evil on the things it names. A psalm uses the same picture for human life: “verily every man at his best state is altogether vanity” (Psalm 39:5–6). Isaiah sets the passing of all flesh against what endures: “The grass withereth, the flower fadeth: but the word of our God shall stand for ever” (Isaiah 40:6–8).

“Vexation of spirit” joins rᵉʻûwth, a feeding upon or grasping after, with rûwach, the word for wind, breath and spirit. To grasp at wind or feed on it is to labour for something that slips away, and the phrase is often rendered “striving after wind” or “chasing after wind”. It describes the weariness of reaching for what is hebel. When the Preacher looks back on his great works in the next chapter, he reaches the same verdict in nearly the same words: “and, behold, all was vanity and vexation of spirit, and there was no profit under the sun” (Ecclesiastes 2:11). The account of his experiments in Ecclesiastes 2 unfolds what this verse sums up.

Verse 17 has the same English phrase, “vexation of spirit”, with a different first word, raʻyôwn, meaning desire or striving, again joined to rûwach. The two verses share the English rendering and the same picture of reaching after wind.

“That which is crooked cannot be made straight: and that which is wanting cannot be numbered.” The Preacher puts what he has seen into a proverb of two parallel lines. ʻÂvath means to wrest, to bend or make crooked, and it can describe what is twisted out of line morally as well. Tâqan, “be made straight”, is to set something right. Cheçrôwn, “wanting”, means a lack, a deficiency, what is missing. Mânâh means to count or number, and here it is the plain passive, “be numbered”. Yâkôl means to be able, and the verse joins it to a negative in both lines, so the impossibility comes from the wording of the verse.

The first line speaks of the distortions and injustices that have become fixed features of the world, things wisdom can see clearly and has no power to straighten. The second speaks of what is lost or missing, from opportunities and justice to life itself, gaps too many to count and too deep to fill. After the wearisome rounds of nature and history earlier in the chapter, this is a concrete case of the futility the Preacher has described. It fits what Paul says of the whole creation groaning together (Romans 8:22), a world bent out of true by the fall.

The verse speaks of what human hands can do, and Scripture shows that God does what we are unable to do. The LORD promises to “make the crooked places straight” (Isaiah 45:2). A man devises his way, and the LORD directs his steps (Proverbs 16:9). At the end of all things God says, “Behold, I make all things new” (Revelation 21:5).

“I communed with mine own heart, saying...” Dâbar is the ordinary verb to speak, to mention or to tell, and the Preacher uses it of speaking with his own heart. He talks it over with himself and takes stock of his life, and we overhear him. “Lo, I am come to great estate” uses gâdal, to be or become great, here of the growth of his power, honour and standing. Then he says he has “gotten more wisdom than all they that have been before me in Jerusalem”. Chokmâh is wisdom in its full sense: skill, discernment, practical understanding and insight into the nature of things. Israel prized wisdom as a gift from God and expected its kings to govern with it, and the claim matches what Scripture says of the wisdom God gave Solomon.

“Yea, my heart had great experience of wisdom and knowledge.” “Had great experience” translates râʼâh, the same verb as “I have seen” in verse 14. His heart had seen much of wisdom and knowledge, and he knew them by long first-hand acquaintance. Wisdom and knowledge are paired here as they are again in verse 18.

The boast is real and the claim is sweeping. It stands here so that the next two verses can show where even this wisdom ended. The greatest store of wisdom anyone in Jerusalem had gathered, held under the sun, ran into the same limits as everything else.

“And I gave my heart to know wisdom, and to know madness and folly.” The Preacher repeats the words of verse 13, “I gave my heart”, with the same word lêb, and now his aim is “to know”. Yâdaʻ covers knowing in a wide range of senses, from ascertaining by seeing to understanding, recognising and knowing by experience. He set himself to know wisdom and also its opposites. Hôwlêlâh, “madness”, means folly or madness, the irrational and wild side of human thought and behaviour, and “folly” is the lack of sound judgement. He looked at the whole range of human life, the wise and the foolish together, to see whether any of it could satisfy.

“I perceived that this also is vexation of spirit.” The word “also” puts this search alongside all the works of verse 14. The phrase is raʻyôwn rûwach, a striving after wind. Even the study of wisdom and folly side by side brought him back to the same emptiness.

“For in much wisdom is much grief: and he that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow.” “For” gives the reason for verse 17, and the verse is a proverb of two parallel lines. In the first, chokmâh stands beside kaʻaç, “grief”, a word that carries vexation, anger, indignation and deep distress. In the second, daʻath, knowledge, a word from yâdaʻ that covers perception, understanding, skill and discernment, stands beside makʼôb, sorrow or pain. “Increaseth” stands twice in the verse. It translates yâçaph, to add or augment, so that whatever is added to knowledge is added to sorrow.

The reason lies in what wisdom sees. The wiser a person grows, the more clearly he sees the crooked things and the missing things of verse 15, the injustice, the suffering and the shortness of life, and the more he feels how little he can mend them on his own. Wisdom sharpens the eyes and leaves the hands as weak as they were. That is why the Preacher’s great wisdom brought him grief. This verse closes his first report and leads into the experiments of the next chapter.

The Preacher, a wise king, could describe the world’s emptiness and leave it as he found it. The New Testament shows us a greater King and a wisdom that reaches where his could not. Jesus is “KING OF KINGS, AND LORD OF LORDS” (Revelation 19:16), and his kingdom is not of this world (John 18:36). Paul calls Christ “the power of God, and the wisdom of God” (1 Corinthians 1:24) and says that in him “are hid all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge” (Colossians 2:3). The wisdom and knowledge the Preacher gathered in verse 16 and found so heavy in verse 18 are found whole in Christ. He is the Word through whom all things were made (John 1:3) and in whom all things hold together (Colossians 1:17), so the works done under the sun have their maker and their meaning in him. And where the Preacher gathered an assembly to tell it of vanity, Christ gathers his people to give them life.

To people worn out by sore travail he says, “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28–30). Where the Preacher fed on wind, Jesus is the bread of life (John 6:35) and the living water that satisfies thirst (John 4:14), and he came that we might have life more abundantly (John 10:10). He is the way, the truth and the life (John 14:6), and God’s purpose, made known in him, is to gather all things together in Christ (Ephesians 1:9–10).

Christ also answers verse 15. John the Baptist cried, “Make straight the way of the Lord” (John 1:23), as he prepared for Christ, and Christ straightens what is crooked in us by his atoning death and covers what is wanting with his own perfect righteousness.

And he answers verse 18. Jesus “increased in wisdom and stature, and in favour with God and man” (Luke 2:52), and his knowledge of sin and suffering led him to the cross. There the “man of sorrows” bore our griefs and carried our sorrows (Isaiah 53:3–4). The grief the Preacher could only lament, Christ carried. In him wisdom leads to joy: the Scriptures make us wise for salvation (2 Timothy 3:15), and the peace of God passes all understanding (Philippians 4:7). Paul, who had much to boast of, counted it all loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus his Lord (Philippians 3:7–8).

The Preacher’s search is an honest one. He tells us that the God who made us also gave us the restless wish to understand, and that the task of understanding everything under heaven is heavier than any one mind can carry. He shows us a king with every advantage reaching the end of his own wisdom and finding there grief, crooked things beyond his straightening and gaps past his counting.

These verses also show who God is. He sets the task, and he knows its limits better than we do. He makes the crooked places straight and all things new, and in Christ he gives the wisdom and the rest that the Preacher’s search pointed toward. The book’s last word stands over the whole of it: “Fear God, and keep his commandments.” When learning brings you grief, this passage tells you that the grief is real, that a wise king felt it before you, and that God has met it in his Son.