From The River of God by Kim Cimio — Part I. Life, Chapter 2

My son, beware of anything beyond these. Of making many books there is no end, and much study is a weariness of the flesh. (Ecclesiastes 12:12)

A reading of Ecclesiastes: why even great achievements feel meaningless, why that realization can set us free, and why life is best received as a gift from God, especially in youth.

Can great achievements give life lasting meaning?

We all want our lives to matter. Steve Jobs wanted to “make a dent in the universe,” and his iPhone did redefine modern life, yet it has also become a source of distraction and addiction, and he died of cancer at 56. Bill Gates pledged nearly all his wealth to fight global poverty, yet many accuse him of trying to control them. Elon Musk wants to make humanity multi-planetary. But the observable universe has an estimated 200 sextillion planets. Even if humans one day lived on five million of them, we would occupy about 0.0000000000000025% of the universe. If the grandest vision of the world’s richest man barely makes a dent on a cosmic scale, what hope do the rest of us have of doing something truly meaningful on our own terms?

What does Ecclesiastes mean by “vanity of vanities, all is vanity”?

Ecclesiastes surprisingly concludes that finding life meaningless is normal. Many Christians try to soften this. Some say it teaches that life is meaningless without God, but the author is “the Preacher, the son of David, king in Jerusalem,” the leader of God’s people. Jerome said it shows the vanity of life in the world, but the book never says life in the church is meaningful by contrast. It tells us to “enjoy life with the wife whom you love, all the days of your vain life that he has given you” (Ecclesiastes 9:9). God is not just the solution to life’s vanity; he is the giver of this vain life. Others say the Preacher was depressed or old, but that reduces a profound diagnosis of the human condition to a personal emotional problem.

Can wisdom, pleasure, work or wealth give life meaning?

The Preacher tests each one. Wisdom: “in much wisdom is much vexation, and he who increases knowledge increases sorrow” (1:18). Knowledge often makes life more complicated, not better. Pleasure: “I said of laughter, ‘It is mad,’ and of pleasure, ‘What use is it?'” (2:2). It feels good, then it’s gone. Work: you must leave everything to someone who may be a fool (2:18–21). The Medici funded the Renaissance and placed popes and queens across Europe, yet their dynasty ended in 1737 when Gian Gastone died without an heir. Wealth: “He who loves money will not be satisfied with money” (5:10). The spirit of capitalism, as Max Weber described it, pursues infinite wealth, an impossible goal. More money brings more consumption and more worry. The rich have full stomachs but restless nights.

How can accepting that life is vanity actually set us free?

Many of us are driven by an inner slavemaster, a voice that pushes us to work harder and achieve more to find meaning at any cost. When we accept the message of Ecclesiastes, that slavemaster loses its power. In Korea, students wake early, attend school all day, go to cram school at night, and repeat, sacrificing their youth to get into a prestigious university. Yet even those who succeed often feel empty. If they knew that this too is vanity, they might not sacrifice so much, or force their children to. In the United States I sense an intense pressure to work constantly, since poverty is often seen as personal failure. But if money truly is vanity, exhausting ourselves to accumulate it is pointless.

Is God a deus ex machina who solves all our problems?

In Greek theater, when a plot got too tangled, a god was lowered by crane to fix everything, as when Medea escapes in the sun god’s chariot; Gandalf’s eagles play a similar role in The Lord of the Rings. Many Christians treat God this way: we pray for money, healing and joy, and he often answers. But if God is only our solution, he becomes our servant, not our Lord. Ecclesiastes presents God not only as the solution but sometimes as the source of the challenge: “God is in heaven and you are on earth. Therefore let your words be few” (5:2). Aquinas taught that we can know only what God is not; Karl Barth called him “wholly other.” Much Protestant thinking speaks as if we know all God’s plans, summed up in the bumper sticker “God Is My Co-Pilot.” We should speak of God with reverence and restraint, not use him to legitimize our own desires.

Why does materialism leave people feeling that life is meaningless?

Meaning comes from direction. If you build a house only to see it demolished before it is finished, the effort feels pointless; that is why many communists despaired when the Soviet Union collapsed. In materialism, the universe began by chance and will end without purpose. If the world has no direction, how can my life have meaning? Some, like Emil Cioran, embrace meaninglessness, but such people tend to be gloomy; most attractive human qualities come from a quiet belief that life matters. Others try to rescue meaning. Nietzsche’s eternal return makes every act infinitely significant, but as Milan Kundera saw, that makes life unbearably heavy, while a single unrepeated life is unbearably light. Sartre said “existence precedes essence,” so we create our own meaning. The bucket list is a popular version of this, but the list itself carries no meaning. It too is vanity.

What do Woody Allen’s films reveal about the modern search for meaning?

Many of Allen’s characters are caught in existential crises. In Stardust Memories, a director asks aliens whether he should do something that counts, like becoming a missionary. They reply, “You’re not the missionary type… You want to do mankind a real service? Tell funnier jokes.” In Manhattan, Isaac lists what makes life worth living, from Groucho Marx to Cézanne’s apples, but what really gives him courage is his love for Tracy, who leaves him in the end. He also muses that people create neurotic problems to avoid “more unsolvable, terrifying problems about the universe,” which describes many sitcoms like Seinfeld. In Hannah and Her Sisters, Mickey despairs in “a godless universe,” tries religion and philosophy, and finds only a makeshift answer while watching a Marx Brothers comedy: “it’s not all a drag.” For Allen, that is the most he could find.

If all is vanity, how should we live according to Ecclesiastes?

Ecclesiastes is not a book of despair. Its recurring “carpe diem” passages (2:24–26; 3:12–14; 3:22; 5:18–20; 8:15; 9:7–10; 11:8–10) are central to its message: “Go, eat your bread with joy, and drink your wine with a merry heart, for God has already approved what you do” (9:7). Life is fleeting, but we are invited to receive it as a gift from a generous God, with gratitude and freedom. My favorite verse is “In the day of prosperity be joyful, and in the day of adversity consider” (7:14), more literally, “In good days, be in good. In bad days, think.” We often spoil good meals by worrying whether we’ll have them in old age. Ecclesiastes says to face hard realities when they arrive. As Jacques Ellul noted, this echoes Jesus: “do not be anxious about tomorrow” (Matthew 6:34).

Why does Ecclesiastes tell us to remember our Creator in our youth?

The book ends: “Remember also your Creator in the days of your youth, before the evil days come” (12:1). This is perhaps its heart. It doesn’t say life is meaningless so give up; it says the best thing you can do in this fleeting life is remember your Creator, especially while young. Most people who become Christians do so when they are young; very few after 40. Many try to delay God, like Augustine praying, “Lord, make me chaste, but not yet!” But the longer we wait, the harder a real relationship with God becomes. Youth is when the heart is shaped. I still love the worship songs of my teenage years; they formed my faith, and my soul remembers them. Youth is a time of freedom, and we should use it to remember and serve our Creator.

Source: Kim Cimio, The River of God (Vision & Logic, 2025), chapter 2, “The Meaning of Life.” Answers are condensed from the book in the author’s words.