When was the last time you walked through a cemetery? Such a stroll may seem dismal, but it’s quite good for your soul. Modern humans, especially the young, can talk themselves into immortality if they’re not careful.
If you visit a cemetery, you’ll probably find the newer graves in one area and the older graves in another. Pay attention to that older area. Notice the headstones, the names and dates carved along with a few words carefully chosen as an everlasting benediction.
The thing is, headstones don’t last. From the perspective of decades, it doesn’t take long before the carved words wear down and the stone itself starts to sink and crumble. You probably don’t know the people in these old graves, and now you can’t even read their names.
You Will Die
In Ecclesiastes 2, the Preacher takes on several investigations, starting with pleasure and turning to wisdom (Eccl 2:12). He somewhat predictably finds that there is “more gain in wisdom than in folly,” but the conclusion he reaches may be surprising: “the wise dies just like the fool” (Eccl 2:13,16).
Since “the same event” (death) happens to everyone—both the foolish and the wise—the Preacher wonders why he has tried to live according to wisdom. It is absurd that the sage and the fool both die in the same way (Eccl 2:14-15).
The Preacher was grappling with a profound and difficult lesson: Wisdom cannot protect us from death.
Those familiar with the Bible will sense a dissonance here that I believe is intentional. After all, in the book of Proverbs, Solomon extols the value of wisdom (see Proverbs 2) and urges his son (and his readers) to pursue and not abandon wisdom (Proverbs 4:1–9).
Perhaps we can feel the frustration voiced by the Preacher. Wisdom has great value in this life. But this life is so short! Is wisdom that valuable if everyone ends up with the same washed-out gravestone?
You Will Be Forgotten
In his investigation of wisdom, the Preacher lands on a second truth as difficult as our own mortality. Both the wise and the foolish die alike, and neither one is remembered.
For of the wise as of the fool there is no enduring remembrance, seeing that in the days to come all will have been long forgotten. How the wise dies just like the fool! So I hated life, because what is done under the sun was grievous to me, for all is vanity and a striving after wind. (Ecclesiastes 2:16-17)
Not many of us meditate on our mortality. But even those who do probably think the good they do in the world might outlast them. The businesses, organizations, causes, places, and people we pour our lives into—surely these will be remembered, right?
Sadly, and simply, no. They won’t, and you won’t. Not in the long run.
You might not need convincing of this, but here’s another illustration. I know the first names of all four of my grandparents, and if you pressed me on it I could probably come up with the grandparent-names my parents used for their grandparents (my great-grandparents). But I don’t know any of their first names, and I barely know anything about them. That’s just three generations! And because I know so little about my great-grandparents, my children know nothing about them. I’m tied at the top of the list of people in the world most likely to remember those eight people, and I don’t even know their names, much less their passions or accomplishments.
Exposing Misplaced Hopes
Ecclesiastes exposes our misplaced hopes in a methodical, direct way. Do you think you might find some lasting significance from pleasure? From wisdom? From work? No, no, and no.
Everyone dies. You might be remembered for a few years, but it won’t be that many. Your name will blow away from the mind of the world like a feather on the wind.
What do we do with this stiff, cold breeze from the Bible? Were you hoping for something more encouraging or slogan-friendly from the Holy Scriptures?
Ecclesiastes takes a little while to resolve this tension, but we eventually get there. The Preacher gives this counsel: fear God and keep his commandments (Eccl 12:13).
That conclusion may not sound as uplifting as we’d like, but when we arrive there I suspect we’ll see how joyful and full of hope that exhortation is.
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