You are what you eat. That is a phrase we have all heard. One you might not be familiar with, however, is, “the fool is so consumed by laziness that he consumes his own flesh.” That is a very, very loose translation of Ecclesiastes 4:5. Here’s my actual translation of this week’s passage:
4And I saw all toil and all skill of work is one man’s envy of his neighbor. This too is hebel and a striving after wind.
5The fool folds his hands and eats his own flesh.
6Better is a palmful of rest than two palmfuls of toil and a striving after wind.
7Again I saw hebel under the sun: 8there is one, and there is no second; also son and brother there is not to him; and there is no end to all his toil. His eyes are also never satisfied with riches, so that he never asks, ‘And for whom am I toiling…?’ This also is hebel and an unhappy business.” (Ecc. 4:4–8)
There is a lot to unpack here, as you may very well notice.
Introduction
By now, I am sure you have noticed that there are many parts and pieces to my project. And even still, I imagine I will be writing many other “This Too is Hebel” posts after I’ve finished summarizing the project itself. After all, “Of making many books, there is no end” (Ecc. 12:12; NRSVue).
Given all the parts and pieces, I thought it might be helpful to remind you of my overall argument. It is that God is good, life is great, and everything under the sun is fantastic.
Obvious sarcasm. No, my argument is that Qoheleth uses the term hebel as a protest against both bad theologies and the lived reality of an absent, inscrutable comforter. My argument is not that there is no God; it is that God is very real, very powerful… and that is precisely the problem. God is in complete control; and yet, God has receded into the background.
The God of Ecclesiastes is not the God we would otherwise want. God sets the times and grants everything its season, but has also made things completely inscrutable to humankind. And under the watch of this God, wickedness exists in the places of righteousness and justice, the oppressed have no comfort, it is better to be dead or not yet born, and now, everything is either work or self-cannibalism. Jigsaw voice: the choice is yours.
Literally. All work and all skill are nothing but mere envy. And, immediately after that, we find that some fools fold their hands and then eat themselves. Why they fold their hands first is beyond me. Somehow, this ties into a lesson on rest and toil. Which, in turn, becomes a lesson on friendship.
Welcome to Qoheleth’s brain. In Ecc. 4, we have the following outline:
Oppression exists→no comfort for the oppressed→better dead or not yet born→work and skill are envy, and thus practically meaningless→fools fold hands and eat their own flesh→some rest is better than lots of toil→some people toil without any love or satisfaction, which is not just hebel but also an unhappy business→it is good to have a friend.
Ecclesiastes 4 alone is hebel, if we take hebel to mean absurd. I could not write an academic paper with such an outline and expect to succeed.
Hebel as a Theological Diagnosis
I am not just doing a character analysis of God, or even Qoheleth. Rather, I am interested in the way the author uses the term hebel, and what theological truths may lie within it. In my perception, hebel becomes a theological diagnosis of a world where a deity does not intervene in any discernible way.
What is hebel? Again, it’s that little word often translated as “vanity” or “meaninglessness” in the book of Ecclesiastes. That which frequently leads Qoheleth to the conclusion that “this too is hebel” or “all is hebel.” As is consistent throughout the project, I leave the term untranslated to preserve its semantic range.
It protests theologies that depict God as present, intervening, and especially “comforting,” when Qoheleth finds no such intervention.
Where are we now?
Oppression exists. Wickedness lives peacefully in the places of righteousness and justice. The oppressed have no comfort, and it is better to be dead (4:1–3). That is the hebel world, thus far. That is the world we live in. As I mentioned before, it is no different from the world we live in today.
Now Qoheleth’s attention pivots. Not to a new topic, but a theological verdict borne of his previous observation. Why is the hebel world so chaotic? Humanity is left to its own devices while the Divine Comforter remains withdrawn. Divine justice is no longer an observable reality.
Why does one work? To avoid homelessness? To pursue a dream, or passion, or better yet, a calling? I do not think any of those answers would suffice for Qoheleth. Honestly. As he tells us, one’s labor is nothing but mere envy. Not some of it, all of it.
4:4: Envy
Again, we meet the word “all.” We also meet the word hebel yet again. And the phrase “a chasing/striving after wind.” Great. More evidence of how miserable life under the sun is. All toil and all skill are nothing but envy, and therefore hebel and a chasing after wind.
Not just his own work. Not just the work of his audience. All of it.
What does work look like in a world where divine favor is indiscernible? We have just been told that the oppressed have no comfort. God makes everything inscrutable (3:11). And we will later learn God’s location (5:7). So, honestly… what is “toil” in a world of divine hiddenness or absence?
It is self-defeating. That is what it is. When there is no divine purpose or guarantor of meaning, there is no intrinsic value in work. Whether that is filling out spreadsheets or painting the Mona Lisa. It becomes nothing more than a task that must be done because, well, it must be done. For one to keep on living. Under the sun.
When there is no discernible divine purpose or guarantor of meaning, work cannot secure the significance promised to it. Punching the timeclock becomes a striving after wind, and nothing more. That 9:30 appointment? Congratulations, that too, is now hebel. All of it is. Every last drop.
A Royal Reflection?
I find that one scholar, Thomas Krüger, offers a compelling way of interpreting this passage. He connects it to the royal fiction of Ecc. 2. The king, Qoheleth in disguise, despairs his own work because an heir will indeed inherit it at some point… so what is the point?
Suddenly, that “calling” means nothing. A good deed goes punished. The bonus or raise? Forget it.
Because all work is nothing but mere hebel. It is envy. It is vanity, vapor, meaningless, and absurd. And thus, envy is the logical and necessary output required of an individual operating in a world with no divine order. It is all envy, and it is all both hebel and a chasing after wind.
To quote Billy Mays, “But wait! There’s more!” Only, for Qoheleth, that ‘more’ takes a very dark turn.
4:5: Self-Cannibalism
And damn right there is more. We go from toil to cannibalism in the blink of an eye.
Literally. The next verse depicts a man who folds his hands and then consumes his own flesh. Now that is hardly a comforting thought.
As I always say, Ecclesiastes is the goth book of the Bible. Work is hebel, and the passage seems, momentarily and grotesquely, to offer self-consumption as the alternative to competitive toil.
Under my interpretation, however, this completely fits. The “fool” in this passage represents nihilistic surrender. If all toil is driven by envy alone, then the “fool” opts out of the vacuum altogether. Toil? For hebel? No thanks, I’d rather dine on my own skin, says the fool.
This is where we are at. Open your KJV and tell me if you see something different. All work is hebel, and thus the fool becomes his own ouroboros, the snake eating its own tail. But why? In my reading, because this is the world God has designed. God has removed Godself from the activity of earthly creatures.
As I argue in the thesis,
“His self-cannibalism is the ruinous, logical conclusion of a world where the alternative to cutthroat rivalry is self-consumption and death. The absolutizing is itself part of the protest as Qoheleth narrates what the world looks like when moral order is no longer externally enforced.”
4:6: A Palmful of Rest
My translation choice here caused some skepticism among reviewers of the thesis. The NRSVue has, “Better is a handful with quiet,” whereas I translate it, “Better is a palmful of rest.” My choice doesn’t make sense, does it?
Moderation. That is a key theme in Ecclesiastes. And I believe this phrase serves as an example of that. As with the issue of oppression/oppressed in 4:1, I do not find this to be a grammatical mistake in need of touching up.
Kaf, the word I translate “palmful,” in Biblical Hebrew is a single palm. This represents a moderate amount. Hofnayim, on the other hand (no pun intended), refers to the hollow of both hands held together. As in, using one’s hands to scoop up as much as they possibly can.
It is better to have a moderate amount of sleep than to work yourself to death. Better to work 40 hours a week with 8 hours of sleep a day than work 80 hours a week with 4 hours of sleep a day. You get it.
But when read against a Persian or Hellenistic setting—with its volatile, monetized economy—the saying acquires a social dimension alongside its theological one. The oppressed have no comfort, and a handful of “rest” or “quietness” offers an alternative to both panicked striving (two handfuls) and destructive idleness (the self-consuming fool). These are the choices one is left with in the hebel world.
It’s hebel. In Arthur Keefer’s terms, the fool’s tragedy is an “evil and sad occurrence;” as for the two handfuls of labor, they signal excessive labor that lacks coherence and significance.
Conclusion: There is No Second
There are those who work, and never cease working, and they never find satisfaction in such conditions. But it is especially painful for the solitary worker. He has no son or brothers, or anyone. And yet, amidst his endless toil, he is forced to ask, “For whom am I toiling… and depriving myself of pleasure?”
Yet another example. Yet another hebel.
This is the world under the sun. God is withdrawn, hidden, and chaos ensues on earth. And now just to further explore labor and toil, we have seen self-cannibalism and total isolation. For Qoheleth, this is not just vanity, but also an unhappy business.
The part that isn’t in my thesis is that I believe the example of the solitary worker serves as a transition into the verses my thesis does not address, 4:9–16. We go immediately from isolation to the confident statement, “Two are better than one because…” I do not think Qoheleth is observing random things.
There is a flow to his argument, just as the streams flow to the sea (1:7). What I mean is: his argument isn’t “OH! And here’s another thing!”
4:9–16, perhaps, I will revisit one day in a post. For now, as I see them, they are words of encouragement in a world defined by human chaos and a hidden God. That encouragement is companionship.
And from companionship, we transition to relationships in power: foolish kings who do not heed advice, young rulers rising to power, who will eventually be forgotten by the nation. Which is…
Hebel. And a chasing after wind.