In a certain respect, seeing righteousness and wisdom as goals valuable in themselves was an important discovery of Ecclesiastes, for in that case the answer to the question of the meaning of life and of the events that happen in the world no longer depended on those events themselves: everything was determined only by a person's stance in life and by his choice. But such a solution gave rise to another, perhaps much more serious problem, devaluing in a person's eyes not only concepts such as justice and recompense, but also the very judgment of God. Indeed, if "one fate comes to all," if neither the righteousness of the righteous person nor the wickedness of the wicked person affects the life of either, what could be worse (vv. 2-3)? And does this not mean that the world is generally beyond morality, that in everything that happens "there is neither love nor hatred" (v. 1)? And if so, perhaps God has no concern at all for people, for their righteousness and wickedness, and perhaps even for anything that happens in the world?

The picture becomes utterly bleak if one adds to it the fairly obvious fact that the success of a person's activity often depends not at all on his efforts, and that success is a matter of chance (v. 11). Everything in the world is generally random, and this conclusion, drawn by Ecclesiastes, is quite logical; it follows from all his preceding reflections. Indeed, if God has no concern for righteousness and wickedness, why should He be concerned at all about human affairs? In that case one can hardly speak of God's providence; deism is more appropriate here - the view of God that, while continuing to see Him as Lord and Creator of the universe, rejects the idea of any intervention by Him in the events that take place on earth after creation. And in a world where everything is random, what is valued, of course, is not wisdom but strength (v. 16).

Sometimes, especially in days of calamity, whole cities listen to the words of the wise, but as soon as the calamities pass, they are quickly forgotten (vv. 13-15). And so only one thing remains for a person: to rejoice in life in everything in which it is possible to rejoice (vv. 7-10), for the joy of life will pass away together with life itself, and in Sheol the dead person will find none of what was dear to him and brought him joy in this world (vv. 4-6). The conclusion is pessimistic, but it is quite realistic in a world that lies in evil and does not allow for any changes for the better.

So is wisdom valuable? Is there meaning in it? For the earth, earthly wisdom is important in some things. Sometimes it helps. At times it wins in confrontation with brute force. But what does this change? It turns out, fundamentally, nothing. And the point is not even that the poor wise man who saved the city was forgotten. The point is that no wisdom can change a person's fate before the face of eternity. The most terrible thing is that the lot of the sage and the fool, and of all the rest as well, is one. Death. Sheol. The kingdom of shadows, where there is no life. Ecclesiastes knows no other prospect.

It would seem that he has another experience, the experience of that inner peace and rest which a person finds at the boundary of God's eternity and the created world. But even this experience is lived by a person while he is alive. While he is in the realm of the living. And what will remain for him in the realm of the dead? Yahwism does not know the teachings about the afterlife and postmortem retribution that were so well known in antiquity, for example, to Egyptians or Greeks. No fields of Osiris for good people or fields of Set for bad ones. Sheol is one for all. And there is no life in it. There is a certain existence resembling life, but only very remotely.

Somewhat as in summer, during the dry season, a half-dried brook may sometimes remind one of the turbulent stream of water that ran in this same channel only recently, in the rainy season. Remnants of former, full life. Of course, life in the fallen world can hardly be called full, but compared with Sheol even it seems a measure of fullness. And if everything is so, what is the meaning of wisdom? Even the higher wisdom that Ecclesiastes touched when he visited the boundary of God's eternity and the created world?

Yes, this higher wisdom can give a person joy and peace, but only while he is alive. And in Sheol it will disappear just like earthly wisdom. It turns out that higher wisdom is no better than earthly wisdom. And in some ways even worse. A meaningless life is a foolish joke, nothing more. But a life that beckoned with higher meaning, inner peace and joy, and then left a person face to face with Sheol, is a joke not only foolish, but also very cruel. Meaning was near, and then hid again. In the same place where all the living hide: in Sheol.

The conclusion that righteous and wise deeds do not depend on human will but are in the hand of God prompts the thought that human deeds become meaningless and vain when a person tries to do something contrary to His will. Meanwhile in everyday life, though people do not renounce Him in theory, they too often build their lives as if He did not exist.

If both the wicked and the good await one fate, then the greatest possible way out of such a situation is to live and rejoice while one is alive and can use what one has. Ecclesiastes has spoken of this more than once already, though here this conclusion is given by him in greater detail. Only he cannot manage to stop at such a conclusion; again and again Ecclesiastes returns to the question of the injustice reigning in the world.

The example that follows, of undeserved inattention to the wisdom of a poor man, could serve as a vivid image of the absurdity reigning in the world. But the very fact that one can raise the question of injustice permitted toward a person, without limiting oneself to acknowledging that everything is absurd, shows that deep in his soul the one reflecting does not intend to reduce everything to the formula "all is vanity."