Of course, everything Qoheleth says about the meaning of life, human activity, and possible joys is devalued by the fact that life is passing and ends in Sheol (vv. 1-7). In essence, Qoheleth never finds an answer to the question of meaning. The conclusion is simple: everything is vanity (v. 8). But for a person of faith, that conclusion could not be final. Vanity is not merely empty and meaningless work and worry. The corresponding Hebrew word denotes something that does not belong to God's plan and purpose for the world and for humanity. Vanity is outside God's world; strictly speaking, it is outside being altogether. It is only a phantom, a shadow, a mist. If all human life and all human works are like that, then there is little difference between life on earth and existence in Sheol.

Such a conclusion completely devalued the human person and made a relationship with God something utterly impossible. But, as we can see, "everything is vanity!" is not Qoheleth's last word. His last word was the affirmation of the absolute value of God's commandments and complete confidence in the reality of the Judgment, which will put everything in its proper place (vv. 13-14). This conclusion seemed so unexpected that many biblical scholars considered it part of an epilogue added later, not by Qoheleth himself but by one of his followers.

But in substance, as also in language and style, this epilogue does not look foreign. It may indeed have been written by one of Qoheleth's disciples, who speaks of his teacher in the third person (vv. 9-10), but he most likely quotes his teacher's words, if not word for word, then extremely close to the original source. One could hardly expect anything else in the East, where the words of teachers and mentors were always treated with great respect and were often memorized. In that case, the final words of the book clearly belong to Qoheleth himself, even though they were handed down to us by one of his disciples.

But then what we have before us, as we can see, is Qoheleth after a spiritual crisis, having come to a faith that refutes all the doubts heard so clearly in the main part of the book. In essence, this must be a new conversion, one that evidently helped Qoheleth understand and experience in a new way concepts that had already seemed quite familiar to him, such as Torah, commandment, wisdom, and righteousness. And the reality of the Judgment became for him, as we can see, precisely a reality, a genuine and unquestionable reality that determines all of human life. This is possible only when God powerfully enters a person's life and completely changes it. Apparently this intervention became the completion of Qoheleth's spiritual path, and perhaps also of his life path, so that the testimony to the teacher's final turning to God had to be borne by one of his disciples.

The most remarkable thing about the personality of Ecclesiastes is that at the end of the path he became Ecclesiastes. A preacher. And a Preacher with a capital letter. A witness. The word "ecclesiastes" itself, translated from Greek, means "preacher," just like the corresponding Hebrew "Qoheleth," which is the Hebrew name of the Book of Ecclesiastes. The issue is a Temple or synagogue preacher. Ecclesiastes was neither priest nor prophet; the Temple court could hardly have become his platform.

The synagogue was another matter: anyone could preach there. But active synagogue preachers rarely came from the highest aristocracy, to which Ecclesiastes undoubtedly belonged. For a person like Ecclesiastes to become the one remembered by tradition, something unusual must have happened to him. Conversion. Spiritual renewal. Birth from above. What else could he have preached about? The reflections we find in the book could hardly have become the basis for a sermon, especially a synagogue sermon. There is too little hope there, and no answer to the main question: what is the meaning of human life before the face of Sheol?

Without such an answer, being a preacher, God's witness, is impossible, even if one has sufficiently deep personal spiritual experience. And Ecclesiastes seems to have found his answer: the fear of God and His commandments. Of course, here is the quintessence of Ecclesiastes' preaching, an extract made by one of his disciples or followers. But the meaning is evidently conveyed accurately. Of course, the issue is not commandments as a legal or moral code. Before the face of Sheol, morality is as powerless as jurisprudence. The issue is something else: what in the Second Temple era came to be called the inner Torah.

The commandment not as a prescription, but as a spiritual and moral imperative that does not restrict a person from without, but builds his life from within. It might seem that Ecclesiastes' experience of having been at that boundary of silence where God's eternity touches creation has little connection with the Torah, even the inner Torah. But this is only how it seems at first glance. What is a commandment as a spiritual reality? God's will addressed to a person. God's intentions directly entering his soul, as God's word enters the world, changing it. And these intentions remain with the person.

Not only during that sacred dance in which a person participates together with all creation, the dance that Ecclesiastes was able to discern in the eternal circling of the universe, but also when the dance ends and the person leaves the great round dance. The eternity of unceasing movement is replaced by the eternity of rest and takes the form of the inner Torah. This core can stand before the face of Sheol. What comes after, what is there, beyond, in eternity? Ecclesiastes is silent. Perhaps he knows but does not speak. Or it is not in the book. For the book is about something else. It is about the search for the path. And the inner Torah is the path already found. That is another story.

Actually, it would be good to remember the Creator not only in the days of youth, but also in those days and years which are rightly called difficult. These are the days of old age, described through an image of the body's breaking down: those who guard the house are trembling hands, the grinders, of whom few are left, are teeth... But when troubles come, people remember the Creator more often, according to the principle "until thunder breaks, the man will not cross himself," though one ought to remember Him independently of troubles, and all the more in their absence. That is why Ecclesiastes turns to the young man, full of strength and hope, because standing before God is necessary for youth as well. And beyond that, finding true faith in youth is especially beautiful.

Ecclesiastes formulates the essence of everything, and it is far from the repetition of reflections about everything being vanity that can cast some readers into depression. If everything for a person consists in the fear of God and the keeping of His commandments, then this everything gives meaning to our existence. And if God will bring every deed into judgment, then our deeds are not meaningless already because they should be related to His will. Therefore not everything in the world He created is vanity of vanities.