Ecclesiastes 1:1-2, 12-14; 2:18-26 Pastor Nathan P. Kassulke
Eighth Sunday after Pentecost Sunday, August 3, 2025 “Finding Meaning In Vapor”
It’s perhaps an unfair time to ask this question, but do you remember what it is like on a cold winter morning? I’m talking about the mornings that don’t come around very often here in southern Arizona. On the coldest of our mornings the temperature drops low enough for us to be surprised to . . . Do you know? What happens on those cold mornings is we can see our breath. I can think of a couple times loading up to head to school when everyone was excited about this. Sure enough, in the right circumstances as far as light and cold, what is usually invisible becomes visible for just a moment. It doesn’t last long, does it? Maybe a second or two at the most? You see your breath, and then it disappears. Picturing that helps us understand a word that is very important in the verses in front of us today from the book of Ecclesiastes. Eight times our verses talk about “vapor.” The Hebrew word being translated could also mean breath. The word becomes an expression for something that doesn’t last long at all. It just disappears, like seeing your breath on a cold morning. Almost as soon as you notice it, it disappears. There are some unique constructions grammatically in these Hebrew words as well, and it gets kind of hard to figure out how to smoothly translate this into English. If you grew up knowing the first verses of the book of Ecclesiastes, you might think of the King James version: “vanity of vanities.” English has changed a bit since then. We don’t understand that this expression means something like “the most meaningless things of all” or “the least important things.” The NIV translators handle it like this: “Meaningless, meaningless, utterly meaningless. Everything is meaningless.” Our chosen translation, the EHV, settles on “vapor, vapor that vanishes.” There’s another word that we don’t use a whole lot except for in this book as the title of the book and the person at the center of its narrative: Ecclesiastes. This word seems to refer to a preacher or teacher, someone who presents to a gathered group. In this book, he is also identified as Solomon, the famous king after his father David. God leads Solomon to write the book of Ecclesiastes, a piece of wisdom literature that explores how to find meaning in life. Our verses cover the very first verses of the book and a few other verses from the first chapter, plus a larger portion of the second chapter, to help us understand the overall concept of this book. Solomon, a very wealthy man, likely writes from the perspective of old age. He is drawing closer to his death and trying to make sense of his life. He is recounting how he looked for meaning and purpose in all sorts of things, in money, in work, and more. And he shares his conclusion upfront, it is meaningless. It is vapor that vanishes. There’s more to say, but let’s consider why he comes to that conclusion. We have skipped some verses for the sake of a manageable portion of Scripture in our service. We haven’t read all of the first two chapters, so we’re missing some details of what Solomon calls exploring everything done under the sky. We aren’t focusing on how he examined whether amassing wisdom would bring meaning and fulfilment. We aren’t looking at his pursuit of pleasure. Those would be worthwhile to consider closely. What is at the forefront in these verses is whether money and wealth and possessions bring meaning and fulfillment. Of course, the answer is a clear no. Solomon concludes that someone can work hard and amass wealth and possessions, and then you hand it over to someone else. You can’t take it with you. That’s the vapor. It just vanishes. All the hard work and what you have to show for it goes over to someone who did none of the work, and you don’t even know if that person will use it wisely! And in spite of this reality, it is so easy for people to get fixated on wealth and possessions. Look at the story Jesus told about the man with his successful harvest. He thought it made sense to hoard it all. Tear down barns, build bigger ones. Hang on to all this wealth and be able to do whatever you want. What happened? That very night, he would die. All that he had, all that he worked hard for, all that he thought would make him happy, slipped away. He wouldn’t have or use or enjoy any of it. Vapor. Vanity. Meaningless.