The Futility of Impermanent Things
Ecclesiastes tells us about the futility of impermanent things so that we might find stability in the permanence of God.
The only stable thing in our world is change. As technology accelerates and transforms life, we lose stability. We no longer have the sturdiness of permanence. Our hometowns can’t remind us of days gone by, because they have been so transformed by industry that we can barely recognize them. Change is constant.
And as Augustine recognized in his Confessions, we feel just as unstable as the things we hope in. So, he reasons, we need to place our hopes in something that cannot change, something more stable than the changing world around us.
His observation was not novel. Hundreds of years before, the Book of Ecclesiastes made much the same point. Its author, Qohelet, argues that life under the sun is transitory and cannot satisfy our deepest longings. And if we seek anything under the sun to satisfy the eternity set into our heart, it amounts to vanity.
The Christian theologian Theodoret of Cyrus (393–458) calls this “the futility of impermanent things.” I think it’s an apt description of a key theme in Ecclesiastes, one that marks our world as one in which hoping in impermanence leads to hopeless vanity.
In this article, I explore this theme of the futility of impermanent things in Ecclesiastes. By doing so, not only will we gain a better sense of the whole book but also of its ending, which has long puzzled interpreters.
Vanity as Impermanence
According to Theodoret, Ecclesiastes leads us “to discern the futility of impermanent things and the transitory character of what seems pleasant.” It is hard to deny Theodoret’s view, since the opening verses say:
“Vanity of vanities, says the Teacher, vanity of vanities! All is vanity. What do people gain from all the toil at which they toil under the sun? A generation goes, and a generation comes, but the earth remains forever” (Ecc 1:2–4).
The earth remains forever, and our efforts are “vanity of vanities!” Note the contrast between life under the sun (vanity) and the implied permanence of the earth. Here, we begin to see Qohelet’s theological argument in practice. The world of impermanence cannot satisfy. God, Qohelet says, “has put eternity into man’s heart” (Ecc 3:11). And further: “whatever God does endures forever” (Ecc 3:14).
Life under the sun cannot satisfy our longing for eternity, because only God and his work lasts forever. But we do not, nor does our work under the sun.
What makes Theodoret’s point of view so compelling, however, has to do with the word “vanity” itself. The term translates the Hebrew term hevel, which means breath or vapour. Imagine seeing your breath on a cold day. The vapour appears for a moment, then is gone again. That is the kind of thing meant by the phrase “vanity of vanities.” It refers to transience.
Throughout Ecclesiastes, human life approximates vanity, life as a vapour. But God’s work lasts (Ecc 3:14). And evidently, God lives beyond us since our spirit returns to God at death (Ecc 12:7).
The vanity of life lies in its impermanence, in its temporary character. Nothing lasts but the work of God. Everything we do, whether great or mighty by human standards, cannot survive the test of time. Time comes for us all, whether we will it or not.
God as Permanence
Of this paradigm in Ecclesiastes, Theodoret explains, “Ecclesiastes comments on the nature of visible realities and thoroughly explains the futility of the present life so that we may learn its transitory character, despise passing realities and long for the future as something lasting.” (Preface to Commentary on the Song of Songs).
In other words, the things of this world cannot satisfy our eternal longings because they are temporary. Thus, Theodoret says Ecclesiastes helps us, “to discern the futility of impermanent things and the transitory character of what seems pleasant.” While Ecclesiastes does not aim to show how we find satisfaction in what is eternal (Theodoret reserves that purpose for Song of Songs), it does give us enough hints to understand the only answer possible in the book.
First, God sets eternity in our hearts (Ecc 3:11). Next, his work alone remains (Ecc 3:14). And finally, when we die, our spirit returns to him (Ecc 12:7). For such reasons, the book concludes “Remember also your Creator in the days of your youth” (Ecc 12:1) and: “The end of the matter; all has been heard. Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the whole duty of man. For God will bring every deed into judgment, with every secret thing, whether good or evil” (Ecc 12:13–14).
This conclusion for Ecclesiastes has long puzzled readers because it seems disconnected from the rest of the book. In other words, the injunction to fear God and keep his commands does not appear to follow from its twelve-chapter argument on the vanity of life (Ecc 12:13).
Some have suggested that the implied argument is that life is meaningless; so obedience to God is all that is meaningful. Others think a pious scribe placed the conclusion there to ensure that readers would not get the wrong impression. Others have tried to correlate the book’s argument with its conclusion.
But no matter where we end up, we need to ask: why mention life’s purpose here in explicitly religious terms, only in the final two verses of the book, in a way that appears disconnected from the book’s structure and internal development?
The answer is that Ecclesiastes 12:13–14 makes sense as the conclusion to a book in which life’s impermanence shows its futility, its vanity. And so the only way to find permanence is to find God. In this way, the concluding two verses fit into the larger argument of Ecclesiastes, acting as an anchor that provides stability for the fleetingness of life.
Why not Argue Throughout That We Should Contemplate God then?
First, because Ecclesiastes aims to show us what it looks like to pursue wisdom under the sun. Its purpose, we might say, is natural philosophy. And second, of the three Solomonic books, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, and Song of Songs, Ecclesiastes aims to show us the futility of impermanent things, while other books emphasize the satisfaction of contemplating God.
It is worth noting Theodoret’s longer explanation for how these three books fit together to inform our moral life, our natural life, and our contemplative life. In his words:
“It is also necessary to say by way of introduction that three works belong to Solomon: Proverbs, Ecclesiastes and the Song of Songs. Proverbs offers those interested moral benefit, while Ecclesiastes comments on the nature of visible realities and thoroughly explains the futility of the present life so that we may learn its transitory character, despise passing realities and long for the future as something lasting. The Song of Songs … brings out the mystical intercourse between the bride and the bridegroom, the result being that the whole of Solomon’s work constitutes a kind of ladder with three steps—moral, physical and mystical. That is to say, the person approaching a religious way of life must first purify the mind with good behavior, then strive to discern the futility of impermanent things and the transitory character of what seems pleasant, and then finally take wings and long for the bridegroom, who promises eternal goods. Hence this book is placed third, so the person treading this path comes to perfection” (Preface to Commentary on Song of Songs)
Theodoret follows a long line of Christian thinking on these three writings. Indeed, Ecclesiastes is something of a half-way house between Proverbs and the Song of Songs.
That Song is the Holy of Holies among these writings. Years ago, Rabbi Akiva made this point when he said, “for all the writings are holy but the Song of Songs is the holy of holies.” (Mishnah, Yadayim 3:5). As God sat enthroned in the holy of holies, the place where Israel met God, so when we read Song of Songs do we meet God there.
But Ecclesiastes is not that book. It tells us about the futility of impermanent things so that we might find stability in the permanence of God.