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Ecclesiastes 4:7, 8 says,
7 Then I looked again at vanity under the sun. 8 There was a certain man without a dependent, having neither a son nor a brother, yet there was no end to all his labor. Indeed, his eyes were not satisfied with riches and he never asked, “And for whom am I laboring and depriving myself of pleasure?” This too is vanity and it is a grievous task.
Koheleth, the Preacher, now returns to his observations of “vanity” by describing one man in particular who had no son, no brother, and no end to his labor. In Israel’s world, family was the primary context for meaning, inheritance, and memory. Labor without relational beneficiaries will not endure beyond the man’s own lifetime. Hence, it is “vanity.”
This man has escaped rivalry (verse 4) and idleness (verse 5) but has fallen into isolation. With no one to inherit his accumulated wealth, his labor lacks purpose. It never occurs to him to ask the fundamental question, “For whom am I laboring?” It is, instead, “a grievous task,” a burden that is self-imposed. It is not caused by oppression from others. It is not rivalry with neighbors. In fact, the man appears that he either works alone or has no close neighbors. He is isolated from the community.
This example of vanity sets the stage for what follows in Eccl. 4:9, 10,
9 Two are better than one because they have a good return [shoob, “turn, return, reciprocation”] for their labor. 10 For if either of them falls, the one will lift up his companion. But woe to the one who falls when there is not another to lift him up.
On a community level, working alone can be dangerous. Companionship is of mutual benefit. When work is shared, it brings greater profit “under the sun.” Strength is not shown in independence or isolation but in companionship where one can lift up the other who falls.
Ecclesiastes 4:11, 12 continues,
11 Furthermore, if two lie down together they keep warm, but how can one be warm alone? 12 And if one can overpower him who is alone, two can resist him. A cord of three strands is not quickly torn apart.
Sharing bodily heat warms them better than in being alone, and two provide better protection against attackers. Isolation magnifies danger. “A cord of three strands” is probably a veiled reference to the law of two or three witnesses which establish and confirm truth. Deuteronomy 19:15 says,
15 A single witness shall not rise up against a man on account of any iniquity or any sin which he has committed; on the evidence of two or three witnesses a matter shall be confirmed.
Two or three witnesses provide strength to convict an unrepentant sinner in court as he tries to attack the truth and discredit the facts. So also “a cord of three strands” provides strength when attacked.
Being self-sufficient is certainly better than being dependent on others, as long as it does not lead to isolation. I have known many who left the city or community to live in isolation in the hills and forests. They thought they could escape the ravages of an oppressive government. However, their actions tended to make government officials suspicious, and their isolation made it easy for them to attack and even to kill. It is better to move to a small rural community where one can have reasonably good neighbors with biblical morals and culture. Even then, no community is ideal, but it is better than remaining alone and isolated.
In Ecclesiastes 4:13, 14 Koheleth turns from private life (work, companionship) to public life (power, politics, reputation) and exposes the vanity of political success:
13 A poor yet wise lad is better than an old and foolish king who no longer knows how to receive instruction. 14 For he has come out of prison to become king, even though he was born poor in his kingdom.
The longer one lives, the greater the tendency to be unable “to receive instruction.” This is the death of wisdom, because being teachable is part of wisdom. Age, wealth, and office do not guarantee wisdom. Teachability—not status—is the true measure of leadership. Whether the youth ascends from prison to the throne (like Joseph), or from poverty to riches (like David), beneficial rule is determined by wisdom.
Koheleth acknowledges the principle of social mobility and rejects an elitist system that limits royalty to a particular class. He also suggests that a wise youth (as opposed to genealogy) ought to have hope to attain political leadership and institute reforms.
Ecclesiastes 4:15, 16 concludes,
15 I have seen all the living under the sun throng to the side of the second lad who replaces him. 16 There is no end to all the people, to all who were before them, and even the ones who will come later will not be happy with him, for this too is vanity and striving after wind.
Even success stories are temporary. The verse quietly hints that today’s populist reformer may become tomorrow’s ruler, but that power corrupts leaders faster than systems can be changed. Public enthusiasm can be massive or immediate, but it is also transferable. The crowd does not love principles; it loves novelty—unspecified “change” that usually turns out to be worse than the policy it has replaced.
Support is not loyalty—it is momentum. The crowds are endless, satisfaction never arrives, and successors continue to rise up. Even the celebrated reformer is soon replaced, forgotten, and ultimately resented. Political glory dissolves within a generation. Thus, leadership pursued for legacy is “vanity,” enduring only as puff of wind.
Koheleth instructs us in the natural cycles of political leadership:
1. The old ruler is unteachable.
2. A reformer becomes the celebrated new leader.
3. The crowd is enthusiastic at first.
4. The crowd becomes disappointed.
5. A new leader is celebrated, and the memory of past leaders is forgotten.
This is historical realism. Koheleth is not against leadership. He is anti-illusion. He warns against messianic politics, faith in reformers, and hope in popularity. Political aspirations that are motivated by ambition, power, or wealth always come to an end. Only God’s work endures, for “everything God does will remain forever” (Eccl. 3:14).
Ecclesiastes 4:13–16 teaches that political success and popular acclaim are inherently unstable, revealing that wisdom without teachability fails, crowds are fickle, and leadership offers no lasting gain or remembrance.