By Pr Isaiah White
Capitalism, by its very nature, often discourages large families and many dependants. Children and extended family responsibilities are frequently viewed as economic burdens that slow career progression and wealth accumulation.
As a result, many professionals today delay marriage and parenthood, while others avoid them altogether. Wealth is pursued first, and family life postponed for “later”.
For some, that later never comes. Biology does not wait, and many discover too late that time has closed the window they assumed would always remain open.
Anticipating this, others resort to storing their biological potential with gynaecologists, hoping to secure a future that present choices have deferred.
We now live in a world where people drive six-seater vehicles occupied only by pets and reside in five-bedroom houses filled with strangers euphemistically called “servants”. Observing this, one cannot help but echo the preacher in the Book of Ecclesiastes:
“There was a certain man without a dependent, having neither a son nor a brother, yet there was no end to all his labour. Indeed, his eyes were not satisfied with riches, and he never asked, ‘And for whom am I labouring and depriving myself of pleasure?’ This too is vanity, and it is a grievous task” (Ecclesiastes 4:8, NAS).
Greedy workaholic
Although Ecclesiastes is often remembered for its melancholic refrain “vanity of vanities”, this passage is not merely pessimistic. It is a sharp diagnosis of a particular pathology of labour. Qohelet, the Teacher, presents a case study: a man utterly alone, “without a dependent, having neither a son nor a brother”. The issue is not simply childlessness or singleness, for many people find themselves in such circumstances for reasons beyond their control. Rather, the focus is on a life consumed by work and greed.
This man is not forced into endless labour by necessity. He is driven by an internal compulsion. Work has ceased to be a means to an end and has become an end in itself.
Problem exposed
Qohelet highlights two contradictory yet mutually reinforcing behaviours.
First, there is unending labour: “There was no end to all his labour.” His work has no natural rhythm of rest, fulfilment or completion. It is perpetual and relentless.
Second, there is insatiable desire: “His eyes were not satisfied with riches.” The accumulation of wealth brings no contentment. Instead of satisfaction, success breeds greater appetite. The act of acquiring becomes the engine, not the meeting of any real need.
At the heart of this tragedy lies a question the man never asks: “For whom am I labouring and depriving myself of pleasure?” This unasked question is the key to the Teacher’s wisdom.
Purpose of wealth
Work, when rightly ordered, is purposeful. It aims at a good beyond itself. That good is often relational: providing for a family, leaving an inheritance, supporting a community, practising hospitality, or even ensuring one’s own wellbeing so as to enjoy life’s God-given pleasures.
In this case, however, labour has been stripped of its purpose. It has become a closed loop: work produces wealth, wealth fuels desire, desire demands more work. The man deprives himself of pleasure not for a higher cause, but for the sterile continuation of the process itself. His effort serves nothing and no one.
Is family the only purpose?
A careful reading is required here. While the text contrasts this solitary man with the verses that follow “Two are better than one” the argument is broader than family alone. The man’s tragedy is not simply that he lacks a son or a brother. His deeper problem is that he lacks any meaningful “for whom”.
That “for whom” represents something outside the self that gives work its meaning. It may be a child, a spouse, siblings, a wider family, a community, a charitable cause, or even a balanced commitment to personal joy and rest. What matters is that labour is directed beyond self-absorption.
The solitary man has no such orientation. His work exists only for a self that is never satisfied and never allows itself to enjoy what it has earned. In this sense, work becomes oppressive. It ceases to serve life and instead consumes it. Qohelet rightly calls this “a grievous task” a miserable business.
Sobering warning
The Teacher’s argument is both ethical and psychological. He warns that when wealth accumulation is detached from meaningful purpose, relentless labour becomes self-inflicted oppression. Stress, exhaustion and emptiness are not signs of virtue when they are divorced from love, generosity and enjoyment.
The wisdom of work, therefore, is not found in endless accumulation, but in purposeful labour. Wealth is meant to serve life, relationships and community not replace them. Without this orientation, even great success collapses into vanity, leaving behind not fulfilment, but a lonely question that arrives far too late: For whom was it all?
