Since contradictions in Ecclesiastes were mentioned, the Gemara cites additional relevant sources. Rav Yehuda, son of Rav Shmuel bar Sheilat, said in the name of Rav: The Sages sought to suppress the book of Ecclesiastes and declare it apocryphal because its statements contradict each other and it is liable to confuse its readers. And why did they not suppress it? Because its beginning consists of matters of Torah and its end consists of matters of Torah. The ostensibly contradictory details are secondary to the essence of the book, which is Torah. The Gemara elaborates: Its beginning consists of matters of Torah, as it is written: “What profit has man of all his labor which he labors under the sun?” (Ecclesiastes 1:3), and the Sages of the school of Rabbi Yannai said: By inference: Under the sun is where man has no profit from his labor; however, before the sun, i.e., when engaged in the study of Torah, which preceded the sun, he does have profit. Its ending consists of matters of Torah, as it is written: “The end of the matter, all having been heard: Fear God, and keep His mitzvot; for this is the whole man” (Ecclesiastes 12:13). ...
And to the essence of the matter, the Gemara asks: What is the meaning of: Its statements that contradict each other? It is written: “Vexation is better than laughter” (Ecclesiastes 7:3), and it is written: “I said of laughter: It is praiseworthy” (Ecclesiastes 2:2), which is understood to mean that laughter is commendable. Likewise in one verse it is written: “So I commended mirth” (Ecclesiastes 8:15), and in another verse it is written: “And of mirth: What does it accomplish?” (Ecclesiastes 2:2). The Gemara answers: This is not difficult, as the contradiction can be resolved. Vexation is better than laughter means: The vexation of the Holy One, Blessed be He, toward the righteous in this world is preferable to the laughter which the Holy One, Blessed be He, laughs with the wicked in this world by showering them with goodness. I said of laughter: It is praiseworthy, that is the laughter which the Holy One, Blessed be He, laughs with the righteous in the World-to-Come. Similarly, “So I commended mirth,” that is the joy of a mitzva. “And of mirth: What does it accomplish?” that is joy that is not the joy of a mitzva. The praise of joy mentioned here is to teach you that the Divine Presence rests upon an individual neither from an atmosphere of sadness, nor from an atmosphere of laziness, nor from an atmosphere of laughter, nor from an atmosphere of frivolity, nor from an atmosphere of idle conversation, nor from an atmosphere of idle chatter, but rather from an atmosphere imbued with the joy of a mitzva.
Nobel Acceptance Speech
- Wislawa Szymborska
I sometimes dream of situations that can’t possibly come true. I audaciously imagine, for example, that I get a chance to chat with the Ecclesiastes, the author of that moving lament on the vanity of all human endeavors. I would bow very deeply before him, because he is, after all, one of the greatest poets, for me at least. That done, I would grab his hand. “‘There’s nothing new under the sun’: that’s what you wrote, Ecclesiastes. But you yourself were born new under the sun. And the poem you created is also new under the sun, since no one wrote it down before you. And all your readers are also new under the sun, since those who lived before you couldn’t read your poem. And that cypress that you’re sitting under hasn’t been growing since the dawn of time. It came into being by way of another cypress similar to yours, but not exactly the same. And Ecclesiastes, I’d also like to ask you what new thing under the sun you’re planning to work on now? A further supplement to the thoughts you’ve already expressed? Or maybe you’re tempted to contradict some of them now? In your earlier work you mentioned joy – so what if it’s fleeting? So maybe your new-under-the-sun poem will be about joy? Have you taken notes yet, do you have drafts? I doubt you’ll say, ‘I’ve written everything down, I’ve got nothing left to add.’ There’s no poet in the world who can say this, least of all a great poet like yourself."
A Confession
- Tolstoy
"All that is in the world--folly and wisdom and riches and poverty and mirth and grief--is vanity and emptiness. Man dies and nothing is left of him. And that is stupid," says Solomon.
...The fourth way was to live like Solomon and Schopenhauer--knowing that life is a stupid joke played upon us, and still to go on living, washing oneself, dressing, dining, talking, and even writing books. This was to me repulsive and tormenting, but I remained in that position...
I did not then think like that, but the germs of these thoughts were already in me. I understood, in the first place, that my position with Schopenhauer and Solomon, notwithstanding our wisdom, was stupid: we see that life is an evil and yet continue to live. That is evidently stupid, for if life is senseless and I am so fond of what is reasonable, it should be destroyed, and then there would be no one to challenge it. Secondly, I understood that all one's reasonings turned in a vicious circle like a wheel out of gear with its pinion. However much and however well we may reason we cannot obtain a reply to the question; and o will always equal o, and therefore our path is probably erroneous. Thirdly, I began to understand that in the replies given by faith is stored up the deepest human wisdom and that I had no right to deny them on the ground of reason, and that those answers are the only ones which reply to life's question.
לאה גולדברג
הדרך יפה עד מאד – אמר הנער.
הדרך קשה עד מאד – אמר העלם.
הדרך ארכה עד מאד – אמר הגבר.
ישב הזקן לנוח בצד הדרך
צובעה השקיעה שיבתו בפז ואדם,
הדשא מבהיק לרגליו בטל-הערב,
צפור אחרונה של יום מעליו מזמרת:
- התזכר מה יפתה, מה קשתה, מה ארכה הדרך?
אמרת: יום רודף יום ולילה – לילה.
הנה ימים באים, - בלבך אמרת.
ותראה ערבים ובקרים פוקדים חלוניך,
ותאמר: הלא אין חדש תחת השמש.
והנה אתה בא בימים, זקנת ושבת,
וימיך ספורים ויקר מנינם שבעתים,
ותדע: כל יום אחרון תחת השמש,
ותדע: חדש כל יום תחת השמש
Lea Goldberg
The path is so lovely – said the boy.
The path is so hard – said the lad.
The path is so long – said the man.
The grandfather sat on the side of the path to rest.
Sunset paints his grey head gold and red,
the grass glows at his feet in the evening dew,
above him the day’s last bird sings
—Will you remember how lovely, how hard, how long was the path?
You said: Day chases day and night – night.
In your heart you said: Now the time has come.
You see evenings and mornings visit your window,
and you say: There is nothing new under the sun.
Now with the days, you have whitened and aged
your days numbered and tenfold dearer,
and you know: Every day is the last under the sun,
and you know: Every day is new under the sun.