The Political Merry-Go-Round Text: Ecclesiastes 4:13-16
Introduction: Our Addiction to Political Saviors
We live in an age that is besotted with politics. Every four years, and increasingly in the spaces between, our nation works itself into a frenzy over the selection of its next chief executive. We are presented with a cast of characters, and we are told that our selection is the most important decision we will ever make. One man, we are assured, will bring ruin, while the other will usher in an age of prosperity and justice. We pin our hopes, our fears, and our identities to these men. We check the polls like a doctor monitoring a feverish patient. We watch the news with a knot in our stomachs. We are, in short, looking for a savior in a suit and tie.
But the Preacher, the Qoheleth, with his relentlessly sober wisdom, steps into our modern coliseum and pours a bucket of cold, clear water on our political fevers. He tells us to look at the entire spectacle, the rise and fall of kings, the roar of the crowd, the promises of a new day, and to see it for what it is: hevel. Vapor. A chasing after the wind. This is not to say that politics is unimportant, or that wisdom in a ruler does not matter. God establishes kings and magistrates, and it is better to have a good one than a bad one. But it is to say that our ultimate hope cannot be found in the political process, because the process itself is shot through with the futility that marks everything under the sun.
The world believes in cycles of revolution. It believes that if we can just get the old, corrupt king out and the new, energetic young man in, then everything will be fixed. Out with the establishment, in with the reformer. Out with the tired, in with the wired. But Solomon shows us that this is a merry-go-round, not a ladder. The ride goes up, and the ride goes down, but you always end up right back where you started. The problem is not with the particular king, but with kingship itself when it is detached from the fear of the Lord. The problem is not the man, but man. And unless we understand this radical truth, we will spend our lives lurching from one political disappointment to the next, chasing the wind and wondering why we are always out of breath.
The Text
A poor yet wise lad is better than an old and foolish king who no longer knows how to receive warning.
For he has come out of prison to become king, even though he was born poor in his kingdom.
I have seen all the living who walk about under the sun go along with the second lad who stands in place of him.
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 glad with him, for this too is vanity and striving after wind.
(Ecclesiastes 4:13-16 LSB)
The Unteachable King (v. 13)
The Preacher begins with a proverb, a sharp contrast that sets the stage for his political commentary.
"A poor yet wise lad is better than an old and foolish king who no longer knows how to receive warning." (Ecclesiastes 4:13)
Here we have two men. The first is a king. He is old, which ought to imply experience and wisdom. He has position, power, and wealth. He has everything the world values. But he has a fatal flaw: he "no longer knows how to receive warning." He is unteachable. His ears are stopped up with his own importance. He has been in power so long that he has mistaken his position for his own personal brilliance. He is insulated by sycophants who tell him only what he wants to hear. He is a fool, not because he lacks intelligence, but because he lacks the fundamental prerequisite for wisdom, which is humility. The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, and this man fears no one, least of all God. He cannot be corrected, warned, or admonished. He is a stagnant pond of pride.
The second man is a lad. He is poor, a nobody. He has no position, no wealth, no influence. He is on the lowest rung of the social ladder. But he has one thing of infinite value: he is wise. And because he is wise, he is teachable. He has not yet learned to be offended by correction. His poverty has likely kept him humble. He knows he does not know everything. In God's economy, this poor wise lad is "better" than the powerful foolish king. God does not measure men by their resumes, but by their reverence. Wisdom is not a function of age or status, but of a right posture before God. A man who can be told he is wrong is a wise man. A man who cannot is a fool, no matter how many crowns he wears.
The Cinderella Story (v. 14)
The Preacher then gives us the backstory for this wise lad, and it is a dramatic reversal of fortune.
"For he has come out of prison to become king, even though he was born poor in his kingdom." (Ecclesiastes 4:14)
This sounds like a fairy tale. The wise lad, born into poverty, has been unjustly thrown into prison, the ultimate place of powerlessness. Yet from this pit, he ascends to the throne. This is the ultimate outsider story. The biblical pattern here is unmistakable. We are meant to think of Joseph. Falsely accused, thrown into a dungeon, forgotten by men, but not by God. And by his God-given wisdom, he is raised from the prison to the second highest seat in Egypt, saving the world from famine (Genesis 41:14, 41-43). Joseph is the quintessential poor and wise youth who becomes a ruler.
This is a story that appeals to us deeply. We love the underdog. We love to see the corrupt establishment overthrown by the virtuous outsider. This is the plot of a thousand movies and the central promise of a thousand political campaigns. "This man is not one of them! He is one of us! He has suffered! He understands! He will set things right!" And for a moment, it seems like the cycle of folly has been broken. The unteachable king is gone, and the wise, humble man from the prison is on the throne. Surely this is the happy ending.
The Fickle Crowd (v. 15-16a)
But the Preacher will not let us rest in this sentimental optimism. He pans his camera out from the throne to the masses, and what he sees is the first sign of the coming vanity.
"I have seen all the living who walk about under the sun go along with the second lad who stands in place of him. There is no end to all the people, to all who were before them..." (Ecclesiastes 4:15-16a)
The new king is a sensation. Everyone is with him. The people, who had grown weary of the old king, now flock to the new one. The word for "go along with" has the sense of enthusiastic support. He is popular. There is no end to the people who cheer for him. He has the approval of the masses. The polls are through the roof. He is the man of the hour.
But we must be wary of the roar of the crowd. The same crowd that shouts "Hosanna!" on Palm Sunday is the same sort of crowd that shouts "Crucify Him!" five days later. Popularity is not a measure of righteousness; it is a measure of public opinion, which is as stable as the wind. The people are not flocking to the new king because they have all suddenly become lovers of wisdom. They are flocking to him because he is new. He is different. He is not the old king. Their allegiance is based on novelty and self-interest, not on principle. They are glad for him because they think he will be good for them. But what happens when the novelty wears off? What happens when his wise decisions are hard decisions that require sacrifice?
The Inevitable Disappointment (v. 16b)
And here, the Preacher delivers the final, crushing blow to our political hopes.
"...and even the ones who will come later will not be glad with him, for this too is vanity and striving after wind." (Ecclesiastes 4:16b)
The honeymoon ends. The cheering stops. The next generation comes along, and they are not impressed. To them, this king is not the exciting reformer who came out of prison; he is just the old man on the throne. He is the establishment. They have their own discontents, their own grievances. They will start looking for their own poor and wise lad to deliver them. And the new king, if he is not careful, will become just like the old king, isolated, defensive, and wondering where all the applause went. The cycle begins again.
This is vanity. This is chasing the wind. To place your hope in a man, even a good and wise man, is to build your house on the sand. To trust in the approval of the people is to anchor your ship to a cloud. The entire political drama, from the foolish king to the wise lad to the adoring crowd to the discontented next generation, is a puff of smoke. It appears for a little while and then vanishes. Why? Because the problem is deeper than personality or policy. The problem is sin. The problem is that we are trying to build a city of man that will last, and it cannot be done. All earthly kingdoms are temporary. All earthly glory is fleeting.
The King Who Remains
So, is the Preacher telling us to despair? Is the message that we should withdraw from the world and cynically mock all attempts at governance? Not at all. He is doing what he always does: driving us past the broken cisterns of this world to the fountain of living waters. He is showing us the vanity of all other kings so that we will bow the knee to the one true King.
The story of the poor and wise lad who comes from prison to the throne is a shadow, a type. It points us to the ultimate reality. It points us to Jesus Christ. He was born poor in His own kingdom. He was despised and rejected of men. He was numbered with the transgressors and condemned. He descended into the ultimate prison, the prison of death and the grave. And from that prison, God raised Him up and set Him on the highest throne, far above all rule and authority and power and dominion (Ephesians 1:20-21).
He is the truly wise King. And when He came, the crowds did flock to Him for a time. But their gladness did not last. They turned on Him. They were not glad with Him. But unlike the king in Ecclesiastes, His kingdom is not vanity. His throne does not depend on popular opinion. He will not be replaced by the next reformer. "Of the increase of his government and of peace there will be no end, on the throne of David and over his kingdom, to establish it and to uphold it with justice and with righteousness from this time forth and forevermore" (Isaiah 9:7).
The political merry-go-round of this world will keep spinning until the day He returns. Kings will rise and fall. Crowds will cheer and jeer. But our hope is not in the next election cycle. Our hope is in the King who came out of the ultimate prison, death itself, to reign forever. He is the only ruler who will never disappoint. He is the only one who is not a chasing after the wind. And those who are glad in Him will be glad forever, long after the sun has gone down on all the kingdoms of this world.