Gregory of Nyssa
The sun follows its path, alternating between light and darkness, illuminating the sky when it rises above the earth and plunging us into shadow as it sets, ‘But the earth stands forever’ (4). In its steadfastness, it remains unchanged, and what has come to be does not alter, while what has moved continues its motion without pause. Thus, everything throughout the continuum of time does not transform into something different on its own. The sea acts as a reservoir for waters from all directions, accepting endless inflows yet never enlarging. What is the significance of the waters that continually fill a vessel that is perpetually full? Why does the sea receive these continual streams without ever becoming more substantial?
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Ecclesiastes provides this insight to illustrate, through the basic elements of existence, the futility of our worldly pursuits. If this unyielding journey of the sun knows no bounds, and the cycling of light and shadow is relentless, while the earth, fated to remain, stays immobile in its position, and rivers tire themselves pouring endlessly into the insatiable sea—which takes in these tributaries without gaining anything from them—what, then, can we say about humanity, whose existence is similarly grounded in these elements? How astonishing it is that ‘the generation passes away and the generation comes’ (4), and this flow persists while one generation of people pursues the next, only to be succeeded in turn. Thus, what message cries out to this Church? It urges us to ‘beholding the universe, men, comprehend your own nature.’ Let what you observe in creation, in the sun, and in the sea reflect your own humanity. Our very essence, akin to the sun, has its rise and set. For our life’s journey, like the sun’s, is a singular cycle. From the moment of our birth, we are drawn back toward our true homeland. With the end of our earthly existence, our brilliance diminishes, as our capacity to perceive light emerges; and indeed, the earth, before us, mirrors this reality. This cycle endlessly revolves in a similar fashion. As Ecclesiastes puts it, the sun ascends above the earth and traverses the southern regions, then descends below the earth, crossing over to the north; endlessly circling around, it returns, as it is said, ‘goes round about.’ And in the same manner, your spirit ‘goes’ (continues Ecclesiastes, referring to every human soul), moving in cycles. ‘The spirit goes, and to its rounds it turns’ (6). Those who grasp this will find great worth in their lives. What can shine brighter than light? What is clearer than its rays? Yet when the sun descends beneath the earth, its radiance becomes obscured, and the light fades. Observing this, a person might choose to live more righteously, disregarding earthly accolades, having learned that fame does not endure. The cycle of opposites is ever-changing; nothing remains static in its current state, neither youth, nor beauty, nor the glory of status. This truth holds for those enjoying any measure of prosperity. For those who find the virtuous path challenging, let the perseverance of the earth in adversity serve as a model. ‘The earth stands forever’ (4). What could be more demanding than this unyielding existence? Yet this steadfastness extends through the ages. For you, the season of your trial is but brief. Be not more lifeless than the earth. Do not act with less reason than what is thoughtless, you who are endowed with intellect and guided by wisdom; instead, ‘abide,’ as the Apostle counsels, ‘in those things which thou hast learned and which are entrusted to thee’ (2 Tim. 3:14), standing with resolve, for among divine precepts lies the reminder: ‘be steadfast, unmovable’ (1 Cor. 15:58). Let purity dwell within you unwaveringly, faith remain firm, and love be steadfast, holding fast to all that is good, as ‘the earth abides in you forever’ (4). However, should one succumb to greed, like the sea, which opens wide to insatiable desire and is never fulfilled by the constant inflow of riches, let them heed the lesson of the sea for healing. Just as the sea, with its dark waters, does not exceed its capacity but remains full as if no additional waters were received, likewise human nature, confined to specific measures in enjoying what it possesses, cannot expand its ability for pleasure through unchecked greed; when the influx of wealth ceases, so too does the capacity for enjoyment remain within definite bounds. If pleasure cannot surpass the limits of nature, why do we seek after external gains, hoarding them without distributing to others, even beyond our needs? Given that we deem worthless anything devoid of value, it is wise to start our discourse here; whatever actions we undertake or statements we make, let none consider them true riches if they harbor a selfish intent. For all human wisdom engaged in worldly pursuits, in their essence, is akin to children's games on the sand, where joy vanishes with the concern to play. Once the efforts cease, the sand returns to its previous state, leaving no remnant of the labor invested. Thus is human existence; ambition is sand, desire for power is sand, wealth is sand, and all pleasures rooted in the flesh are like sand. Those whose souls are ensnared by this find themselves laboring for hollow joys, but as they depart from this sandy realm—meaning the carnal existence—they will recognize the futility of this life’s indulgences. For while material life offers fleeting pleasures, they carry away nothing but their own conscience. The great Ecclesiastes, it seems, speaks as one who has transcended the earthly life and approaches the immaterial realm, stating what we will likely express in time, as we depart from this shore littered with sands cast by the worldly waves and removed from those boisterous clamorings that deafen us. In remembrance of past turmoil, we might proclaim, ‘vanity of vanities, .... all vanity’ (Ecclesiastes 1:2), and it is declared, ‘there is no abundance to man in that which he labours under the sun’ (Ecclesiastes 1:3). Thus, through my reflection, this encapsulates what every soul will utter when it sheds the trappings of this present life and steps into a life of faith. If it has excelled in something noble during its earthly existence, it will denounce its prior engagements when compared to new discoveries, diminishing what it once valued. Yet if it clung to worldly things, the unforeseen truths it encounters will reveal the futility of its pursuits, prompting it to lament with words that convey our shared remorse, tearfully recounting our folly: ‘vanity of vanities,’ and so forth.