When Everything Becomes Nothing

Introduction

Bertrand Russell was a Welsh-born philosopher who helped develop a new way of understanding philosophy, known as analytic philosophy. As the name suggests, Russell was much more about what he considered a logical way of understanding the metaphysics. If one’s view of the metaphysical world—that part of philosophy that deals with the spiritual, supernatural, meaning, and purpose, etc.—was not justified by logic or empirical reason, then it must be rejected.

When he was about 31 years old, he wrote an article he titled, “A Man’s Free Worship.” In it, he develops his understanding of what God must be like, if God even existed—a thought that he rejected. In his mind, though, if there was a God then surely he had created beings subject to torture, miseries, and suffering, and yet they were created to worship him in spite of it all. So “man was born,” as Russell wrote, “with the power of thought, the knowledge of good and evil, and the cruel thirst for worship,” in which all his instinctual parts that would bring pleasure were considered sin in need of forgiveness. He suffered from both natural causes and from denial of pleasure, all the while seeking to satiate that thirst for worship. Since this world had nothing worthy of worship, God would be its focus. Finally, when man was able to suffer well and worship perfectly, God would then destroy the universe and start over so he could watch the play again. God would then be one who demanded worship not because of any moral goodness, but because of omnipotent power.

Having explained his concept of God, he goes on to delineate his own view of the universe in which he believed,

Man is the product of causes which had no prevision of the end they were achieving; that his origin, his growth, his hopes and fears, his loves and his beliefs, are but the outcome of accidental collocations of atoms; that no fire, no heroism, no intensity of thought and feeling, can preserve an individual life beyond the grave; that all the labours of the ages, all the devotion, all the inspiration, all the noonday brightness of human genius, are destined to extinction in the vast death of the solar system, and that the whole temple of Man's achievement must inevitably be buried beneath the debris of a universe in ruins--all these things, if not quite beyond dispute, are yet so nearly certain, that no philosophy which rejects them can hope to stand. Only within the scaffolding of these truths, only on the firm foundation of unyielding despair, can the soul's habitation henceforth be safely built.

In essence, what Russell was saying back in 1903 was that humans were the products of chance that could never have known how this world, let alone an individual’s life, would end up. Thus nothing could last beyond the grave and any achievement that might survive would be incinerated when the solar system collapsed. And so, there is no ultimate, God-given meaning, purpose, or reason for life, and it is only when we accept this that a person can begin to develop their own real—if not temporal—meaning.

What does Russell’s philosophy look like in our culture? It might look like Billie Joe Armstrong’s, lead singer of Green Day, message: “It's something unpredictable // But in the end, it's right // I hope you had the time of your life.” In other words, enjoy the fleeting moments now, even if they won’t last. Or it might look like Jerry Seinfeld creating a show about nothing, but also a show displaying deep friendships that learn to live, laugh, and love—small moments of happiness that just help us get through the day—even if it ultimately means nothing.

Russell, it would seem, was dealing with the same questions that Solomon dealt with in Ecclesiastes—living, working, playing, purpose, and morals—what is it all about? Russell argued that morals and ethics were those ideals that humanity had that would enrich the lives of those around them. There was no higher purpose for them, and they could be refined as society’s understanding and progress grew. And it would seem that Solomon would agree—if these ethics and morals were merely “under the sun,” a saying that often referred to a life without God. In other words, if God is left out of the equation, then all you are left with is a morality that collapses under its own weight as human flourishing alone is not a strong enough foundation for enduring moral obligation.

So where do we go? How are we to understand this life? That’s why we are studying Ecclesiastes. As we take a look at this first chapter, I want us to notice three miseries of life under the sun:

There is No Reward

There is No Remembrance

There is No Relief

Ecclesiastes 1 ESV

The words of the Preacher, the son of David, king in Jerusalem. Vanity of vanities, says the Preacher, vanity of vanities! All is vanity. What does man gain by all the toil at which he toils under the sun? A generation goes, and a generation comes, but the earth remains forever. The sun rises, and the sun goes down, and hastens to the place where it rises. The wind blows to the south and goes around to the north; around and around goes the wind, and on its circuits the wind returns. All streams run to the sea, but the sea is not full; to the place where the streams flow, there they flow again. All things are full of weariness; a man cannot utter it; the eye is not satisfied with seeing, nor the ear filled with hearing. What has been is what will be, and what has been done is what will be done, and there is nothing new under the sun. Is there a thing of which it is said, “See, this is new”? It has been already in the ages before us. There is no remembrance of former things, nor will there be any remembrance of later things yet to be among those who come after. I the Preacher have been king over Israel in Jerusalem. And I applied my heart to seek and to search out by wisdom all that is done under heaven. It is an unhappy business that God has given to the children of man to be busy with. I have seen everything that is done under the sun, and behold, all is vanity and a striving after wind. What is crooked cannot be made straight, and what is lacking cannot be counted. I said in my heart, “I have acquired great wisdom, surpassing all who were over Jerusalem before me, and my heart has had great experience of wisdom and knowledge.” And I applied my heart to know wisdom and to know madness and folly. I perceived that this also is but a striving after wind. For in much wisdom is much vexation, and he who increases knowledge increases sorrow.

There is No Reward

The first misery that Solomon wrote about in Ecclesiastes is that there is no reward. This idea comes from the first ten verses of chapter one; we won’t read all of the verses, but for now, let’s take a look at verse 3.

Ecclesiastes 1:3 ESV

What does man gain by all the toil at which he toils under the sun?

The idea of gain is prevalent throughout the next six verses as well. Generations come and go—one replaces the other. The sun rises and sets and rises again. The wind blows south, then north, then returns. The rivers run to the sea, but there are always rivers and the sea never gets full. Why? Because that water feeds more rivers and those rivers feed other seas. Everything seems so cyclical. Nothing is really gained. There is no reward. We keep doing the same thing over and over again, and what do we have to show for it? Nothing of importance—especially in the grand scheme of eternity.

Is planet Earth any better for all the work we’ve done? Is it any better for all the generations that have come and gone? For all the sunrises and sunsets? For all the wind that has blown? The answer that Solomon is apt to give is that it is not.

Ecclesiastes 1:9–10 ESV

What has been is what will be, and what has been done is what will be done, and there is nothing new under the sun. Is there a thing of which it is said, “See, this is new”? It has been already in the ages before us.

Even the moments we consider new—new inventions or new experiences are simply improvements over previous times.

One of my favorite advertising campaigns has been a swipe against the iPhone by Google Pixel. You may have seen it. Everyone is going around with a vanilla ice cream cone. A woman pulls one out of her purse. A dad is searching his pockets and finds his cone lying on the credenza. A young social media influencer has her ice cream in a ring light. A wife and husband in bed are tapping on their ice cream cone. A young man is walking along with his cone up to his ear. But the best part of the ad is when there is a large sign with an ice cream cone and next to it in big black letters are the words Vanilla Pro. Workers then cover up only the portion with the words, leaving the exact same picture in tact, with the words “The All New Vanilla Pro,” indicating there is nothing new about the new iPhone.

That’s how Solomon was feeling about life. It all may look new, but there’s nothing new.

It’s what Bertrand Russell believed too. “all the labours of the ages, all the devotion, all the inspiration, all the noonday brightness of human genius, are destined to extinction in the vast death of the solar system, and that the whole temple of Man's achievement must inevitably be buried beneath the debris of a universe in ruins...”

The greatest difference between Solomon and Russell was the whole idea of being “under the sun.” Remember that when you read “under the sun,” you need to think “without God.” At best, this would be a Deistic viewpoint. The Deist would say that God set this universe in order, wound it like a watch, and then stepped back allowing it to endlessly tick in circles. At worst, this would be the atheist’s viewpoint—Russell’s viewpoint. There is no God. Life is ultimately meaningless—all our work will come to no reward. All the strivings will be for naught.

Russell would argue that religion of any kind was created by humans to quell the fears of mankind—especially the fear death. We cannot handle the truth and need something that brings comfort. And I don’t deny that the God we worship brings comfort in death and purpose in life, but it is not the reason religion was invented. Religion was invented just like breathing was invented. That is to say, it is no invention at all. We were created to worship. As Solomon would write later in Ecclesiastes—we were made with eternity in our hearts. It is much more of an invention to deny the reality of eternity than to believe it.

There is No Remembrance

Not only is there the misery of no reward, but Solomon informs us of the misery of no remembrance.

Ecclesiastes 1:11 ESV

There is no remembrance of former things, nor will there be any remembrance of later things yet to be among those who come after.

I don’t think Solomon meant major historical events, though given enough time, we forget those as well. Instead, Solomon is referring to all the moments that are relatively unimportant. For instance, if I were to ask you what Pastor Drew preached on last week, how many of you could give me a summary? How many of you could give me a Scripture passage? Or it’s only been a week since this past Christmas. If I were to ask what you got for Christmas, it is almost assured that we would forget at least one item we received. But if we took it to last year’s Christmas, we probably would remember almost nothing even though the gifts seemed so meaningful at the time.

We forget lessons that we’ve learned. As a history nerd, one of my favorite quotes comes form George Santayana: “Those who cannot remember the past are doomed to repeat it.” Solomon says that’s really all of us!

Some of you were blessed to know your grandparents and have learned from them some great life lessons. Less of us would know our great grandparents. If we did, we were probably so young we barely would remember them at all. When’s the last time you’ve thought about your grandparents or great grandparents? Truth be told, they’re almost forgotten. After you, they probably will be completely forgotten.

You and I will be forgotten within a hundred years. That’s mean to say, but it’s the truth...under the sun.

If this sounds despairing, congratulations; you’ve gotten the point. For the life lived under the sun—apart from God—there cannot be anything but a despairing outlook. That’s why Russell states that we have to fight against this despair.

“To take into the inmost shrine of the soul the irresistible forces whose puppets we seem to be--Death and change, the irrevocableness of the past, and the powerlessness of Man before the blind hurry of the universe from vanity to vanity--to feel these things and know them is to conquer them.”

Russell calls on us to feel the hopelessness and despair. Once we do, we can be liberated from their power. We must awaken to the reality that stares us in the face so that we can truly live—not by overcoming death or hopelessness—that would be impossible, but by living life unmastered by their tyranny. Russell would admit that life is certainly hopeless in the long run, but that’s no reason to live hopelessly in the present. This leaves us with a somber acceptance and defiant resolve: So what if we won’t be remembered? Make memories anyway. So what if the past fades from our memories? Make moments anyway—even if they do.

If Solomon lived today, he’d have to agree. That’s life under the sun. Life is a bunch of photographs that bring back feelings of nostalgia, but also feelings of despair because we can’t quite remember where we took that picture or even the reason for taking it. We can, kind of, remember those moments, but we cannot relive them.

But what of “above the sun”? In other words, what is memory in light of God’s presence? Memory is more than nostalgia. It’s learning to trust, growing in holiness, and loving with patience. How often does God call on his people to remember his works and words? More than half the Bible is historical in some way. It tells of God’s redemptive plan through memories related to us through man by the moving of the Spirit. We have the memories of heroes and villains, friends and foes, husbands and wives. Each memory leads us to love God and love others. Not every memory is a world-changing event, but God sees to it that a memory (for however long it may last) impacts our lives for our good.

It’s similar to those that Malachi wrote about—people who saw that serving God was pointless. After all, the wicked prosper just as much, if not more, than the righteous. Those who forgot about God seemed to be doing just fine, but then we read,

Malachi 3:16–18 ESV

Then those who feared the Lord spoke with one another. The Lord paid attention and heard them, and a book of remembrance was written before him of those who feared the Lord and esteemed his name. “They shall be mine, says the Lord of hosts, in the day when I make up my treasured possession, and I will spare them as a man spares his son who serves him. Then once more you shall see the distinction between the righteous and the wicked, between one who serves God and one who does not serve him.

It is not the reality of hopelessness that we must accept and defy, but the delusion of hopelessness. God has prepared a book of remembrance, and there will be a day when we shall see that the life we once thought forgotten under the sun has never been forgotten above it.

There is No Relief

But Solomon doesn’t just inform us of the miseries of no reward and no remembrance; he also informs us of the misery of no relief. This is the start of Solomon trying different ways of dealing with life’s miseries and trying to find purpose. In this case, he sought after wisdom.

Ecclesiastes 1:12–18 ESV

I the Preacher have been king over Israel in Jerusalem. And I applied my heart to seek and to search out by wisdom all that is done under heaven. It is an unhappy business that God has given to the children of man to be busy with. I have seen everything that is done under the sun, and behold, all is vanity and a striving after wind. What is crooked cannot be made straight, and what is lacking cannot be counted. I said in my heart, “I have acquired great wisdom, surpassing all who were over Jerusalem before me, and my heart has had great experience of wisdom and knowledge.” And I applied my heart to know wisdom and to know madness and folly. I perceived that this also is but a striving after wind. For in much wisdom is much vexation, and he who increases knowledge increases sorrow.

Think for a moment about wisdom. Most of us understand, I would say, the difference between wisdom and knowledge. Some would say that knowledge comes from books and wisdom from experience. There is some truth in that. Some would say that wisdom is knowledge applied, and again, there is some truth that also. But wisdom is more than both of these. There is an element of wisdom that has to do with timing.

For instance, we know what Solomon wrote in Proverbs 26:4-5

Proverbs 26:4–5 ESV

Answer not a fool according to his folly, lest you be like him yourself. Answer a fool according to his folly, lest he be wise in his own eyes.

He says the exact opposite. Why would he do that? It has to do with timing. A person of wisdom knows when to apply that wisdom and to which situation. It’s all about the timing. But what happens when there is no Guide—no God to move you along in applying that wisdom? It becomes frustrating. The very notion of growing in wisdom is vexing. Not knowing when or how to apply it is irritating. As Solomon would say, it’s “striving after wind”—hence, the name of this series. Philosophy without God is striving after wind.

This world is full of folly. It’s full of wrong-doing and idiocy. What’s the point in espousing wisdom when we know that people won’t listen or there’s more idiotic behavior around the corner or that we may not even communicate the right bit of wisdom anyway?

All it does is disappoint and bring a lack of joy. It’s an unhappy business that God has given us.

At best, we only sound wise. And this is what Bertrand Russell calls the “seduction of eloquence.” The seduction of eloquence is when someone says something that sounds so good—so eloquent—that we want to believe her. It has the appearance of wisdom, but it does little or nothing in the way of healing the brokenness and suffering of the world. She could be dead wrong in what she believes and what she’s arguing for, but the way she says it is so appealing we agree with her.

Bertrand Russell points out that we need to put up defenses against the seductions of eloquence, which I find ironic since he is a master of the craft. He was quite a smooth talker. He spoke and wrote with such confidence and persuasion that many adopted his outlook. Yet, all the wisdom of his philosophy was under the sun—under heaven. It has shaped the minds of many in the West even though many had never heard his name. But where does his philosophy leave us? With no relief from death, suffering, or sorrows. His philosophy is the essence of what Solomon found: Ecclesiastes 1:18 “For in much wisdom is much vexation, and he who increases knowledge increases sorrow.” Wisdom apart from God can diagnose the problem, but it has no lasting prognosis. It can name the suffering, but it can’t take it away.

It’s like seeing a person’s crumbling house and saying, “You’ve got termites,” and then walking away because you have no solution to kill the termites and restore the rotten wood. Human wisdom, no matter who it comes from or how seducing it is, is still simply striving after wind.

Conclusion

As we close out Ecclesiastes 1, we’ve seen that Solomon sounds very much like Bertrand Russell in many ways, and yet Solomon comes to a different conclusion.

We don’t get to Solomon’s conclusion until Ecclesiastes 12, which we will come back to time and time again as we go through this series. As we begin the New Year, some of us might be looking to start New Year’s resolutions, and some may lend themselves to reading self-help books. There’s nothing wrong with that. I’ve read many of them and could recommend many to you. But I would give you the same advice that Spurgeon gave to his students: “Visit many good books, but live in the Bible.” Understand that most of the self-help books are wisdom-under-the-sun books, and so we must scrutinize what is said with what God has revealed if we want lasting joy, purpose, and meaning.

Ecclesiastes 12:13–14 ESV

The end of the matter; all has been heard. Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the whole duty of man. For God will bring every deed into judgment, with every secret thing, whether good or evil.

In the end, we find that God has not set the world to tick in circles, but has a direct plan and a direct purpose for each person. What Russell saw to be reality is, in fact, only part of reality—but it is a fallen reality. It is a reality of futility. That’s what Paul pointed out in Romans 8:20-24

Romans 8:20–24 ESV

For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of him who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to corruption and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees?

Despite what Russell believed, it was not God who plunged creation into sin and futility. It was man’s rebellion that did that. We now must live in the wake of all the disasters that sin has wrought: death, suffering, and pain. Russell wanted us to embrace these realities and live in spite of them. Solomon wants us to be honest about them, but know they are not final. There will be a day when this creation will be redeemed, when sorrow and groaning will cease, and when death will be no more. We wait in hope and one day our faith will be made sight.