“Hevel havalim,” says Koheles, “vanity of vanities, futility of futilities, all is vanity.” Until you sit down and really study Koheles, it is hard to hear a message from it other than that everything is vanity. But if you can get past the hevel, there is a guidebook for life in Koheles, one that fits life in this world as almost no other book does.
The penultimate verse of Koheles, “The sum of the matter, when all has been considered: ‘Fear Elokim and keep His commandments, for that is all of man,” tells us that this book is about having yiras Shamayim, fear of heaven, but it is hard at first glance to tie this to, and find it in, the rest of the book.
I had been learning Koheles with a friend on a weekly basis for about eight months, but it was difficult for us to find our way past the vanity and to understand the message. Until we discovered Rav Eisemann’s shiurim on Koheles (diggingdeeperjewish.org), and his sefer, Shelter Amongst the Shadows. Rav Eisemann’s approach, based on the Maharal and Ramban, as well as other sources, has very literally turned Koheles around for us, and has made it one of the most meaningful books for me regarding everyday life.
In this article, I would like to highlight certain themes in Koheles, based on Rav Eisemann’s approach and additional sources.
“Under the Sun” vs. “Seeing the Sun”
Over and over we hear in Koheles questions about what is life worth, what is labor worth, “tachas hashemesh,” under the sun. The sun symbolizes the physical world. Living “under the sun” means living in this physical world without trying to elevate it spiritually. One is, so to speak, under the ruling power of the blazing sun. In this physical world, there is endless repetition. The sun rises and sets, all rivers go to the sea, a generation goes and a generation comes, over and over and over again. This endless repetition in life is the source of hevel, and if we can’t break out of it, we cannot rise above the level of hevel.
But the sun is not all bad. Light is good, and if one can get into the group of ro’ei hashemesh, seeing the sun but not being captive to it, life can be good and enjoyable. The way to escape from the sun’s domination is by imbuing one’s life with yiras Hashem.
Rav Eisemann brings a beautiful thought of the Maharal that can be helpful here. Tzitzis represent the ideal relationship of materialism and spirituality. The material world (the world “under the sun” in Koheles) is like the rectangular garment to which tzitzis are attached. This garment represents the limitations of physicality. It is constrained and bound by strict corners. Man leading a physical life is stuck in the repetitive nature of the material world and cannot escape from his desires. The tzitzis, the fringes that attach to the edges of the garment, represent the spiritual world; they extend past the confines of the physical world and allow one to modulate the physical world and its desires with one’s spiritual nature. The Gemara in Menachos tells of a man who went to visit a harlot in a faraway land. When he was about to approach her, his tzitzis hit him in the face and he turned away and left. Our neshama can give us the ability to rule over our otherwise limitless physical drives.
I think also the sod ha’ibur, the secret or mystical quality of the Jewish leap year, relates to this ability to bind the physical to the spiritual. The solar year (our secular calendar) has 365 days, and is called shana, meaning repetition. The lunar year, observed by the Moslems (independent of the solar cycle) is based solely on the moon’s cycles, and a month is called chodesh, indicating renewal. The Jewish calendar combines both. We live in a physical world represented by the sun, but can harness this for spiritual purposes. This is the great goal of Judaism – to combine the spiritual with the physical. To inject something worthwhile in this world, you have to sanctify time. That’s why setting the calendar (Kiddush hachodesh) is the first mitzvah we have as a people. (Some of this is based on a talk by Rabbi Reisman.)
We often say that Avraham was the first to recognize Hashem. But this is not true. Noach knew Hashem; Shem and Ever did. What was unique about Avraham is that he was the first to recognize that you could elevate the physical to a spiritual level. The gematria (numerical value) of Avraham’s name is 248, which is the number of the parts of the body, indicating that he brought his physical self along with his spirituality and elevated it. (An example of this that we are all aware of is that he had guests eat with him and then said “Let us bless Hashem.”) When our forefather Yaakov was on his way to Haran, he stopped off to learn at the yeshiva of Shem and Ever for 14 years. Why? He had attended the “yeshiva” of Avraham and Yitzchak; why would he need this additional learning? Rabbi Tatz answers that Shem v’Ever observed a more ascetic type of worship of Hashem, and Yaakov would need this approach to withstand the evil environment of Lavan’s house, where the coupling of the spiritual with the physical would be more difficult.
Yir’as Elokim (Fear of G-d)
Shir HaShirim is all about ahava, love. When someone is in love, he becomes “lovesick” and less aware of his surroundings. Koheles, as the end indicates, is all about yirah, fear or awe of Hashem. Being a yerai Elokim, one who fears Hashem, means being an eved Elokim, a servant of Hashem. A servant has to be very aware of his environment. Whatever his master asks of him, he must be able to perform. Yirah requires chochma, wisdom, in order to anticipate and fulfill our Master’s wishes. And the state of being an eved, or a yerai Elokim, implies having to work. Amal, or work, is how a yerai Elokim serves his Master and how he moves forward in this world.
Amal (Work)
In many places, Koheles speaks of work having no value. But this is work “under the sun.” There is no value to work “under the sun,” but there is great value to work that is not conducted in an “under the sun” mode. Work is how we move forward in life, and it is valuable when engaged in both the physical and the spiritual worlds, so long as we can see past the confines of physicality. Koheles tries an approach to life that only deals with wisdom (chochma) and not with physicality, but finds that this too is hevel. Man’s role is to engage and to work. He is to be an eved Hashem, servant of Hashem. The fear of Heaven is expressed as being a servant of Hashem, while the love of Hashem is expressed as being a child of Hashem. A servant does what his master wishes at all times. If his master directs the eved in one direction and then in another, the eved must follow and comply with his master’s wishes. Similarly, our role is at any given moment to be an eved Hashem, to think “What does Hashem want of me at this time?” And if a different behavior is needed at another time, the eved changes what he is doing to comply with the Master’s wishes.
Adam’s name derives from adama, the ground. But why? If it is because Adam came from the earth, so did all the animals and the plants. Maharal suggests a different relationship. Adama has no intrinsic value in and of itself, but it has infinite potential to bring things forth. Similarly, a person has infinite potential and has to work to actualize it. The will of Hashem is for man to harvest all aspects of the world, as included in Hashem’s command to Adam (“v’kivshu’ha”).
Koheles says that Hashem put everything, all possible middos and talents, in man, and he must be able to use these as they are needed. He has to think at any given time about what being a servant of Hashem requires of him, and he has to be able to shift gears and use other talents if this is what is required to best serve Hashem. Rav Eisemann gave two examples of people who were able to change their plans entirely when they felt this is what was needed. The Netziv decided to close the Yeshiva of Volozhin when the secular authorities demanded change. Where does a person get the ability to close down the yeshiva which he helped to build and run? Because he was aware that what Hashem wanted was not the yeshiva, but the appropriate response at that given time.
Rav Eisemann also brought the story of Shimon Ha’Amsuni, who made it his life’s work to analyze every “es” in the Torah and define what it comes to add. He got to “Es Hashem Elokecha tira,” You should fear Hashem your G-d, and could not find what the “es” included, so he stopped his life’s work. He said, “Just as I get rewarded for the analysis (drisha), so I will get rewarded for the ceasing (prisha).” Rabbi Akiva came along and said that “es” included talmidei chachomim (Torah scholars). The question is what was so hard about this understanding that Shimon Ha’Amsuni couldn’t get it? Yet the only reason Rabbi Akiva could say what he did was because of what Shimon Ha’Amsuni did. If someone can leave his life’s work because he feels Hashem no longer wants it, that strength is something that can be compared to the Divine, k’vyachol.
This is similar to Rabbi Tarfon’s teaching in Pirkei Avos, “Lo alecha hamelacha ligmor…” You are not obligated, and it may not be in your power, to complete the task, but you must engage and do. It also corresponds to Rav Dessler’s approach to “Hakol biydai Shamayim chutz miyir’as Shamayim.” A person’s parents, place and era of birth, and circumstances are determined by Hashem. What remains is for the person to choose what he will do in his circumstances. That is yir’as Shamayim, the commitment to approach life and make decisions as a servant of Hashem.
In some respects, this concept of operating as an eved Hashem is liberating. One does not have to guarantee an outcome, just commit himself fully to serving Hashem. Flexibility is only possible for someone who feels all he does is as a servant to Hashem’s Will. Our freedom is “engraved” in the tablets of the Ten Commandments (Pirkei Avos). Rav Eisemann quotes Rav Shlomo Brevda, who explained that the need for Shemoneh Esrei to follow immediately after the bracha of Ga’al Yisrael (Who redeemed Israel) of Shema (the chazzan doesn’t say this blessing aloud so that people do not say Amen) is to convert from redemption, geulah, immediately into committing oneself to serving Hashem.
Koheles says “Adam l’amal yulad,” man is born to work. On the surface this sounds like a dreary existence. But there is another interpretation. Man creates himself, is born, through work. Man’s work allows him to bring his infinite potential into reality, to become the complete person, Kol haAdam. Rav Eisemann also noted the wording with which the earth is cursed after the sin of eating from the Tree of Knowledge. “Arura ha’adama ba’avurecha” – the earth is cursed for your benefit (instead of biglalecha, because of what you did). A person needs to work in order to develop himself in this existence outside the Garden of Eden. Another verse in Koheles says “Mah yisron ha’adam ba’asher hu ameil,” what is the advantage to man in that he works? When applied to life “under the sun,” we can consider it a rhetorical question. But when the work is not limited purely to the physical, the advantage is in the work itself. Without it, he is only mah, what – like an animal – “behaimah,” or bah mah – which has only what is put into it and not the limitless development of spirit allowed to Adam.
Light vs. Darkness
Light has great advantages over darkness. Mesillas Yesharim describes two difficulties with darkness. Sometimes one cannot see anything at all. And sometimes, we see one thing but think it is another, and this may be more dangerous than not seeing at all. In particular, our yetzer hara can cloud our view of reality. We may have negiyus, vested interest, in a matter, and this changes our view without our being aware of it. This applies in our daily life in an obvious way when a person can’t stop eating or can’t stop smoking, but it applies more subtly in many other things we are involved with.
The Torah provides an example of how negiyus can strike even the most dedicated person without him realizing it. When our forefather Avraham asks his dedicated servant Eliezer to go to Haran and find a wife for Yitzchak, Eliezer asks “ulai,” maybe – maybe the girl won’t want to come; what then? After he finds Rivka, and is recounting his mission to Lavan and Besuel, he uses the same word, ulai. But the first time, during the event, ulai is spelled alef–vav–lamed–yud, while in his recounting after the event, ulai is spelled alef–lamed–yud, missing the vav, so that now the words admits to the interpretation eilai, to me. Rashi points out that Eliezer wanted Avraham to consider his daughter as a wife for Yitzchak. The question is why it did not spell ulai in the way that allows this interpretation when the story unfolds. This, Rav Eisemann says, is because Eliezer was a trusted servant of Avraham. He did not realize that any negiyus affected him until after the fact, when he could see that he did have the desire to have Avraham come to him instead.
In the Gemara, the issue of negiyus comes up in a different way. There is the famous story of Rav Meir praying that a wicked person should die. His wife, Beruriah, rebuked him, saying that Tehillim says “Yitamu chata’im [not chot’im] min ha’aretz.” Sins should end in this world, wickedness should be destroyed, but not the sinners themselves. However, Rav Eisemann points out that in the first chapter of Tehillim that very word chata’im is used to mean sinners, not sin, so the sentence Beruriah quotes could admit to both interpretations. Rather, Beruriah was explaining that David HaMelech had no negiyus, and therefore he could wish that a sinner die. However, other people may be more concerned about themselves than about Hashem and may be asking for the death of a wicked person with negiyus, a vested interest. Likewise, when V’lamashinim, the 19th bracha of the Shemoneh Esrei, asking Hashem to destroy wickedness and evildoers, had to be composed, it had to be Shmuel HaKatan to write it. He is exemplified by the quote he brings in Pirkei Avos, “When your enemy falls, do not rejoice.” Only someone who did not feel personal joy could write such a bracha without vested interest.
So light adds to our better understanding of this world and our relationship to it. In fact, light comes close to being a spiritual thing itself. Most material things cannot be shared by two people; if I eat an apple, you can’t eat it. But in spiritual things, as in light, one person’s use of it does not detract from others using it. In addition, zerizus, alacrity, characterizes spiritual things. In the universe, there is nothing faster than speed of light (zerizus). Light also brings joy, as when the Shabbos candles are lit.
Wise Man vs. Fool
Koheles (10:2) says that the wise man’s heart leans to the right and the fool’s to the left. There are a number of ways of understanding this. One is a good lesson for educators. When reading a Hebrew book, going to the right means going back, to review and make sure that one really knows what he learned previously. This is the direction of wise people, to go back and make sure they have acquired the knowledge available before moving on. The fool only looks to the left. He is not interested in looking back; it only makes him more aware of everything he does not know. He only wants to fly ahead, without caring whether any knowledge has been gained.
A second understanding of the wise person leaning to the right is that the right hand represents strength and activity. Whatever a person does should be done with all his strength and in an enthusiastic fashion, not lackadaisically or apathetically. And a person should use all his strengths. Rav Dessler makes this point with Avraham Avinu, who was required to go past his special quality of chesed (lovingkindness) to gevura (inner strength) in order to bring Yitzchak as an offering.
Rav Eisemann brought two other examples of using all your strengths. Yehoshua is called a na’ar, a lad, even though he was a mature adult. He is described as not moving from the Tent of Meeting (where Moshe taught the Law). The word na’ar comes from being poured out, so one is open to take everything in. Yehoshua had a tremendous desire for wisdom and holiness. He stayed in the Tent, heard Moshe telling the law to Aharon, then to the elders, etc., and he tried to acquire more and more knowledge. It is asked why it was Yehoshua who went out to fight Amalek, and not Moshe. Amalek was on the 50th level of impurity, so only someone on the 50th level of purity or holiness was needed to fight him. Of Moshe it says, “Moshe approached the arafel” (the thick cloud; where Hashem’s presence was) – he approached but did not reach it, and was thus on the 49th level of holiness. Rav Tzadok says that a person is judged in one of two ways – either by what he is or by what he aspires to be. Yehoshua had an unlimited desire for Torah and kedusha, so he was considered to be on the 50th level and could fight Amalek. (Amalek, in particular, did not wish to learn; unlike Yisro, Amalek was unmoved by the miracles Hashem did for Bnei Yisrael.)
The second example regarding using one’s strengths is Navos HaYizreali, the man whom the wicked king Achav killed in order to acquire his vineyard. Why did Navos deserve death? Navos had a beautiful voice and when the people went up to the Bais HaMikdash he used to sing and inspire them. One year he decided to stop doing this. He no longer used the gift Hashem gave him as a way of inspiring people, and for this he merited death.
Wisdom is needed for performing as a servant of Hashem. This wisdom includes understanding all of one’s potential and knowing how to harness it for the sake of Heaven.
The Incomparable Value of Life
Life is the greatest gift a person can have. It is a wonder that the physical body (guf) and spiritual soul (neshama) can come together, that a spiritual thing which has no dimensions of space can be contained in a physical body. In achieving this combination, man is the point of contact of Hashem with this world. We are told in Koheles (9:10) to do everything with all our might; we are not to blunt the will to live. Boredom implies life has no value to you. Life is not forever, so don’t “kill” time.
In aggadic literature, the soul is considered a chigair, a lame person, and the body an ivair, a blind person. The chigair cannot do things on his own, but he can direct the body to act properly. There is the famous mashal of a king who appointed a lame man and a blind man to guard his orchards, figuring that neither could take the fruit for himself. The lame man went on the blind man’s shoulders and directed him, and they were able to get the fruit they wanted. When the king came back and accused them of taking the fruit, each denied it, saying “how could I do it? I’m blind. I’m lame.” The king put the lame man back on the blind man, and punished both together. Similarly in life. The body has a critical part in allowing the actualization of the spiritual neshama. But it can be directed to evil by the yetzer hara. The soul has “legs” only in this world; it is frozen in place, as it were, in the World to Come. No further mitzvos can be done, and the soul is frozen in the condition that it is in just before the person died.
In this context, Rav Eisemann presented a new meaning to the question of whether we are ready to greet Mashiach. Are we ready to be frozen at our given spiritual level? If not, we should begin working to strengthening ourselves spiritually, so that we will be ready for Mashiach’s arrival.
Conclusion
In the first part of our morning prayers each day, we incorporate a sentence from Koheles. Rav Schwab (in Rav Schwab on Prayer) shows how this prayer is structured based on the seven times hevel is mentioned at the beginning of Koheles. We say “Ribbon kol haOlamim, Master of all worlds (or all time), not because of our righteousness do we cast our supplications before You, but in the merit of Your abundant mercy.” The prayer then goes on to ask seven questions with the word “mah.” “What are we? What is our life? What is our kindness?…” This is followed by a sevenfold elaboration of our insignificance, “Are not all the heroes as nothing before You, and famous men as if they never existed…” The seventh elaboration is from Koheles (3:19), “And the preeminence of man over beast is nonexistent, for all is hevel.”
But the prayer then focuses on the joy of our role as “Your nation, your covenanted children,” offsetting the havalim by seven laudatory expressions of gratitude to Hashem: “To thank You, praise You, glorify You…”
The beginning of the prayer includes the preface from Tanna D’vei Eliyahu, “L’olam yehai adam yirei Shamayim…” – Always let a person be G-d-fearing privately and publicly – and it concludes with the blessing of sanctifying Hashem’s name. It is within our commitment to being yirei Shamayim that we can elevate the world of hevel to a world of Kiddush Hashem (sanctifying Hashem’s name).
