The Author: Solomon of
Jerusalem, King David's son. The book of Ecclesiastes was written for a
lofty purpose. Solomon, as leader of a people, had the responsibility to
hold them together in faithfulness to their dedication. He sought to
fulfill the responsibility by means of the wise counsel of Ecclesiastes.
The writing was completed 1000 B.C.E. at Jerusalem.
Far from being a book of pessimism, Ecclesiastes is studded with
bright gems of divine wisdom. Both Jesus and Solomon encouraged true
worshipers to congregate. Through the genealogy of the scriptures Jesus in
the flesh is shown to be a descendant of Solomon. The wise principles of
the congregator, Solomon, are written here.
In my opinion, nothing is worthwhile, everything is futile. For what
does a man get for all his hard work?
Generations come and go but it makes no difference. The sun rises and
and hurries around to rise again. The wind blows south and north, here and
there, twisting back and forth, getting nowhere. The rivers run into the
sea but the sea is never full, and the water return again to the rivers,
and flows again to the sea.
everything is unutterably weary and tiresome. No matter how much we see,
we are never satisfied, no matter how much we hear, we are not content.
History merely repeats itself. Nothing is truly new; it has all been
done or said before. What can you point to that is new? How do you know it
didn't exist long ages ago? We don't remember what we have done back here.
I, the Preacher, was king of Israel, living in Jerusalem. and I
applied myself to search for understanding about everything in the
universe. I discovered that the lot of man, which God has dealt to him, is
not a happy one. It is all foolishness, chasing the wind. when a wrong
cannot be righted; it is water over the dam; and there is no use thinking
of what might have been.
I said to myself, “Look, I am better educated than any of the kings
before me in Jerusalem. I have greater wisdom and knowledge.” So I worked
hard to be wise instead of foolish-but now I realize that even this was
like chasing the wind. The more my wisdom, the more my grief; to increase
knowledge only increases distress.