Chapter 3 of Kohelet is the famous chapter of the seasons. Shlomo HaMelech lays out before us a long series of times and contrasts - a time to give birth and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot what is planted - and our Sages expounded these verses in many varied contexts. We will proceed according to the order of the verses, cite the explanations of the commentators and the Midrashim, and see how this chapter teaches a fundamental principle: that man has no control over time, and that the significance of an action depends just as much on the timing in which it is done.
לַכֹּל זְמָן וְעֵת לְכָל חֵפֶץ תַּחַת הַשָּׁמָיִם׃ - To everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven.
Midrash Zuta expounds: "To everything there is a season" - there was a time for Adam HaRishon to enter Gan Eden, as it is stated, "And Hashem Elokim took the man and placed him in the Garden of Eden," and there was a time for him to leave it, as it is stated, "And He drove the man out." The Holy One, Blessed is He, set a time for everything. There was a time for Noach to enter the Ark, as it is stated, "Come, you and all your household, into the Ark," and there was a time for him to leave it, as it is stated, "Go out from the Ark." There was a time for Avraham for circumcision to be given to him, as it is stated, "On that very day, Avraham was circumcised" - there was a specific day on which he was commanded concerning circumcision. And there was a time for him to be rewarded for it, meaning that the Holy One, Blessed is He, would give him reward for it, in two places: one in Egypt and one in the wilderness, as it is stated, "For all the people that came out were circumcised." The people of Israel were redeemed from Egypt in the merit of circumcision, and they entered the Land in the merit of circumcision.
The Midrash continues: "And a time for every purpose under heaven" - there was a time for that precious thing that was in heaven and would now be given on earth. There was something that the Holy One, Blessed is He, desired, and He set a time when it would take effect here on earth. Some say this is circumcision, and some say this is the Torah, as it is stated, "And Elokim spoke all these words."
The Pesikta Zutreta says: "To everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven" - so that a person should not become negligent and despair of death. "Despair" here is not in the conventional sense of someone despairing of something he desires; rather, the intention is that he should not imagine that death will never come. Know that death will surely arrive, and knowing this, a person will utilize his time properly.
Rashi explains that this is a continuation of the preceding verses, in which Shlomo HaMelech speaks of the futile pursuits with which man is preoccupied, especially the amassing of wealth. The verse tells him: The one who gathers wealth from futility should not rejoice, for even if it is currently in his hand, the righteous will eventually inherit it. Right now you rejoice that the money is in your possession; Haman also rejoiced, and in the end the house of Haman went to Mordechai. This joy is temporary, for "to everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose." And if you ask, "Look, I see that this is not happening!" - the answer is that the time has not yet arrived. Everything has a designated time when it will occur. And regarding "every purpose," Rashi explains that all matters are called a purpose, meaning that everything has its appointed time.
The Malbim, in his characteristic way, makes a precise distinction: What is the difference between zeman and et? We do not have the Malbim's commentary on Kohelet, but this explanation appears in his Ayelet HaShachar (Bereishit 99). Et describes the natural time, the natural point in time - not determined by human agreement, nor by halachic determination, but by the courses of nature. For example, "a time to give birth" - man does not determine this; rather, when her time arrives, a woman gives birth. Similarly, "And I will give your rains in their season" - there is a time that the Holy One, Blessed is He, established in nature for rain to fall. So too, "the turtledove, swift, and crane keep the time of their coming" - these are migratory birds, and they have a set time in nature during which they migrate.
By contrast, zman is something that human beings have delimited and established: they set a specific time and determined that this is when the matter would occur. Like "and I set him a time" (ve'etnah lo zman) in Nechemiah, which means I fixed a time for him. And likewise, "to confirm these days of Purim in their times" (bizmaneihem) - the time established for them according to Halachah as suitable for the days of Purim. Thus: et is the point fixed in nature, whereas zman is what human beings determine and agree upon among themselves.
The Imrei Shefer explains that here Shlomo further rebukes mankind regarding the affairs of this world: know that from all the affairs of this world, you will never be able to attain what you truly yearn for. The events of man's life in the world are twofold - there are misfortunes and there are good fortunes. A person experiences things that bring him joy, and experiences things that bring him less joy. When a person is experiencing a good time, he expects that this time will never pass, that it will last forever - but even the sheva berachot come to an end eventually, and every celebration concludes. And reality dictates that the good and beautiful times are precisely those that pass quickly. In contrast, when a person goes through difficult periods, he feels as though time stands still, stretching on and on without end.
This is hinted at in what Shlomo said: "He who found a wife found good," whereas on the other hand, "And I find more bitter than death the woman." The Gra asks: why is the good expressed with "found" in the past tense, while the bad is expressed with "I find" in the present tense? Because a person quickly becomes accustomed to the good, and as it were, it has already passed; we live within it and fail to see the good in it. "He who found a wife found good" - in the past he found, but now he no longer feels it. But to the bad, one never becomes accustomed: a person suffering from misfortune never gets used to it; time stretches out for him and he experiences the suffering in full force. When things are good, he lives on "default" - this is simply how it is supposed to be; he does not tell himself how wonderful things are for him, how much the Holy One, blessed be He, has favored him. "Do you have a good wife?" - "Yes, I got married twenty years ago." That is "found," in the past. But misfortune we feel at every moment, and therefore "more bitter than death" is "I find" - in the present tense, constantly continuing to find.
The Dubno Maggid in Ohel Yaakov brings another beautiful illustration of this idea. Why is vehayah an expression of joy and vayehi an expression of sorrow? Regarding vayehi, everyone answers that it evokes the cry of vai ("woe"), an expression of grief; but how is vehayah connected to joy? Based on the principle we mentioned, the matter is remarkably clear. A person always wants a bad thing to be behind him already: the surgery behind him, the problem resolved. But a good thing he wants to still be ahead of him: the trip ahead of him, the vacation ahead of him, the wedding ahead of him.
Now let us consider: hayah is past tense, while yehi is future. And one of the common grammatical uses of the letter vav is the vav ha-hiphuch (the conversive vav), which flips past to future and future to past. Yehi or ("let there be light") is future, and when coming to relate that this indeed took place, the text says vayehi or ("and there was light"). Hayah is a narrative about the past, and when one wishes to speak about the future, the text says vehayah ki tavo'u el ha'aretz ("and it shall come to pass when you come into the land"). And see how wondrous this is: yehi is something in the future; we added a vav to it and transformed it into the past - and what is a future matter that a person would wish were already behind him? A bad thing. Therefore, vayehi denotes sorrow. Conversely, hayah is in the past, and we added a vav to it and transformed it into the future - and what is a past event that a person would wish were still ahead of him? An occasion of joy. Therefore, vehayah denotes joy.
What have we learned from this? That a person feels misfortune at every single moment, time seems to stand still for him, and he waits impatiently for it to pass; whereas the good passes quickly, and a person wishes to see it still lying ahead. Matters of goodness in this world pass swiftly, while matters of adversity linger for a long time - at least according to man's subjective feeling. And King Shlomo comes and says: know that you have no control over these things. You cannot rush the bad to get it over with, nor can you hold back the good to prolong it.
And this is "To everything there is a season (zman)" - for everything, a limited timeframe has been designated, and here it refers to bad things as well: even a bad thing that you cannot prevent will arrive at its appointed time, for a timeframe has been bounded and established for it. As Chazal said, the Holy One, blessed be He, decrees upon suffering when it will arrive and when it will depart. "And a time (et) for every purpose under heaven" - chefitz (purpose or desire) refers to something that I desire, which means the good things: they too have an appointed time, and you cannot halt them. When the time comes you will receive the good thing, and when the time comes for it to cease, it will cease. Both regarding bad things "to everything there is a season," and regarding the things you desire there is an appointed season and time, and it is not in your hands to determine when the matter will come or when it will go. Afterward, Shlomo enumerates one by one how every single thing is allotted and fixed in its time.
The Kol Efraim explains that here Shlomo further rebukes mankind regarding the affairs of this world: know that while an action is indeed important, its timing is even more important. At times a person does the right deed, but not at the right time, and then instead of bringing benefit, it causes harm.
An example of this can be found in the narrative of the selling of Yosef. Reuven comes and asks Yaakov to send Binyamin with him and to take responsibility for him, but Yaakov dismisses him - calling him a "foolish firstborn" and refusing to even entertain the matter with him. Yet Yehudah says, "From my hand you may demand him; I will be a guarantor for him," and Yaakov entrusts Binyamin into his hand. Why into Yehudah's hand yes, but into Reuven's hand no? There are several reasons for this. One reason: Reuven said, "You may put my two sons to death" - are his sons not my sons, and are my sons not his sons? What kind of offer is that? Yehudah, by contrast, offered a guarantee concerning his own personal stake, concerning his World to Come. A second reason: Reuven spoke in physical terms, while Yehudah spoke in spiritual terms. Reuven thought that Yaakov's entire concern was the loss of a child, bereavement - a physical matter. But Yehudah understood that his entire life in the World to Come was at stake here, as Yaakov was promised that if his bed remained complete (all his sons remained righteous), he would not see the face of Gehinnom, but if one son were missing, he would see Gehinnom.
The commentators offer another reason as well: Reuven's problem was timing. When did Reuven approach? When Yaakov was sated, right when they had returned and brought food. Yehudah said: Let us wait for the elder. And when the situation arose where there was nothing left to eat and they were hungry, Yehudah said, "I will go and bring him," and they answered him: Very well, go and bring him. The exact same counsel, when offered at the beginning, was not accepted; yet when offered in the end, it was accepted.
Another example: Rav Chaim Volozhiner conceived the idea of establishing a yeshivah. To this day, the yeshivah world functions according to the foundations he laid down, and the Volozhin Yeshivah, the "Mother of Yeshivos," served as a model and paradigm for all the yeshivos that arose after it. Before that, no such concept existed at all - people learned in local shuls, each person in his own town; but a place of study that gathered young men together, with set sedarim and shiurim, was Rav Chaim Volozhiner's idea. He came to the Vilna Gaon to receive his blessing for the path ahead, and when the Gaon heard the idea, he said to him: No. This pained Rav Chaim greatly, as he was eager and full of enthusiasm for the project, and suddenly his rebbe was cooling his fervor. Yet his rebbe's instruction was binding upon him, and he dropped the matter.
A year later, he returned to the Vilna Gaon and proposed the idea once more. This time, the Gaon told him: Act and succeed. And so it was - he acted and succeeded, and the yeshivah flourished miraculously. Rav Chaim asked his rebbe: Why did the master initially tell me no, and now the master says yes? The Gaon answered him: The previous time you came, you were overly enthusiastic, and that raised a concern in my mind as to whether the initiative stemmed from a holy source. For it is known from the Gaon's teachings that in matters of spirituality, a person always requires exertion and toil. We learn this in Megillat Rut: "And she saw that she was exerting herself" - when Naomi saw that Rut was exerting herself, she knew it came from a holy source. Matters of impurity proceed easily, while matters of holiness are caught in the thicket by their horns; something holy always comes with difficulty. Here, I saw you come with immense enthusiasm, and I wondered: How can a matter of mitzvah, a matter of Torah, come with such ease of excitement? Usually, enthusiasm accompanies harmful things, whereas matters of mitzvah require tremendous strength and invested toil. Therefore, I was very apprehensive. But now, seeing that you have come with solemnity, with less excitement and more measured thought, I said: Now you will surely succeed. And so it was.
From here we see: "To everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose." The action is very important, but even more important is the timing of the action - at what precise moment you do it. Striking the iron is important, but only while it is hot does it make an impact and effect a change.
The Kol Ephraim notes an interesting grammatical insight here: grammarians know that what appears first in a verse takes precedence in significance. There is a difference between "amar hamelech" (spoke the king) and "hamelech amar" (the king spoke). In both cases he spoke, but in the Holy Tongue there is a difference: when one says "amar hamelech," the emphasis rests on the speech, whereas when one says "hamelech amar," the speech is secondary, and the emphasis is that the words came from the king. Therefore, it is very important in the Holy Tongue to examine what precedes what.
Notice: at first it says "Lakol zeman" ("To everything there is a season") - first it includes all things (kol), and only then does it say "a season" (zeman). In contrast, regarding a purpose or desire, it does not say "and to every purpose a time" (ulekhol chefetz eit), as one might have expected in order to maintain parallel structure, but rather "and a time for every purpose" (ve'eit lekhol chefetz) - placing the word "time" (eit) at the beginning of the clause. What does this teach us? "Lakol zeman" comes to tell us: do not dismiss anything out of hand. There are things about which a person says: What is this worth? What will come of this? Throw it in the trash! The verse tells you: Know that everything has its time. There is nothing that does not have its place in time, and the emphasis here is on the word "everything."
Incidentally, hoarders and collectors are very fond of this principle: "Do not dismiss anything out of hand" - which is why their homes look like a municipal warehouse. Every screw, every faucet, every microwave discontinued thirty years ago: "Who knows? Maybe I will need it one day." One must certainly realize that this is a total mistake. Someone who was once that type of collector recounted that he stopped doing so, and when asked why, he explained: "I realized that whenever I actually need something, I can never find it. I need a faucet, and I know I saved one, but go find where it is in all that clutter; it is far simpler for me to run to the store, pay twenty shekels, and buy a new faucet." So one must know not to take this to extremes - quite apart from the domestic friction it causes, this is simply not the way. Yet on a broader level, the verse teaches us that everything ultimately has its proper time.
And then: "ve'eit lekhol chefetz" ("and a time for every purpose"): whatever you desire to do has its proper time, and therefore here the emphasis is on the "time" (eit). There is a specific time when it is appropriate to do something. Even Torah study, from which one can never be exempt - the Gemara notes that only if one finds an hour that is neither day nor night may one study Greek wisdom - even Torah study has its appointed time. If someone engages in Torah study during prayer, he is told that this is not the appropriate time: Torah study has its time and prayer has its time, and in fact, he will be held accountable for it. Could one find no other time to look into a book except during the cantor's repetition of the Shemoneh Esrei? Is one's schedule calculated down to the second such that this is the only remaining moment to learn instead of listening to the chazzan's repetition? Here is an example: the matter is vital, but no less important is when it is performed and whether it is the fitting time.
עֵת לָלֶדֶת וְעֵת לָמוּת עֵת לָטַעַת וְעֵת לַעֲקוֹר נָטוּעַ׃ - A time to give birth, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to uproot what is planted.
In the following verses we have twenty-eight seasons, and if we also add the first "season" mentioned in the verse "Everything has an appointed season, and there is a time for every desire" - twenty-nine. "A time to plant" is in a time of peace, and "a time to uproot what is planted" is in a time of war, when there is a necessity to uproot plantings. Under normal circumstances, there is no permission to uproot fruit trees, but when necessity dictates - for instance, when shots are fired from within olive groves - the halachah is that it is permitted to uproot them, and indeed, the sooner the better, for it endangers human life. So too, "a time to heal" and its opposite, all correspond to war and peace, and we will address these matters in greater detail further on.
The Pesikta Zutreta explains: "A time to give birth" - this is the time of man's creation, the moment of birth. A woman experiences difficult labor and suffers pain at that hour, yet rejoices once the child is born - Baruch Hashem, she has merited to hold a healthy son. "And a time to die" - once he is born and enters the world, it is a certainty that he will ultimately die. From this we learn: from the time of his birth, it is fitting for a person to contemplate the time of his death. From the moment one is born, the countdown begins.
And one who lives this way leads a life of continuous reckoning. He does not live aimlessly without accountability, for he knows that "God will bring every deed into judgment," as Shlomo concludes his book; and because he knows that he must give an accounting for every single matter, he conducts his life with deliberate reckoning, rather than acting impulsively and chasing momentary pleasures.
The chapter of the seasons comes to teach us that everything is allotted and set: "Everything has an appointed season" - for every matter, even for misfortunes, a limited duration has been determined by Heaven; "and a time for every desire" - even for the things we desire, there is a designated time in nature, and it is not within our power to hasten the end of misfortune or indefinitely prolong the good. From this emerge two moral lessons: first - one should not overly rejoice in amassing wealth, nor fall into despair over death, but rather recognize that from the moment of birth he must reckon with his final day and lead a life of accountability; second - doing the right action is not sufficient on its own, for one also requires the right timing, as we learned from Yehudah, who waited for the opportune moment, and from the Vilna Gaon, who turned Rav Chaim of Volozhin away empty-handed the first time and blessed him the second time. The deed itself is important, but its timing is no less critical.