Capturing the Mist
I was reading Ecclesiastes today. “Vanity of vanities,” writes the wise man in verse 1:2.
Quite often, my wife and I drive over to Loch Lomond for breakfast at a hotel overlooking the loch. (I suspect the Scottish pronunciation of the “ch” in loch might come in handy as we learn Hebrew—but I digress!)
On those early mornings, the mist sometimes seems so close that you could reach out and gather it into your hands. Yet you cannot hold it. Like a rainbow, it remains beyond your grasp.
That gives me a little insight into the Hebrew word hevel: breath, mist, or vapour. Something fleeting; something elusive.
Depending on its context, hevel can suggest transience, futility, or the impossibility of holding on to something. I’m beginning to think I should keep a notebook of the Hebrew words we encounter, with their meanings and the pictures they bring to mind.
The writer of Ecclesiastes looks honestly at human life. We work, achieve, gather possessions, and seek wisdom. Yet we cannot stop time, guarantee what happens next, or keep what we have forever. There is a deep frustration in this: we long for something lasting in a world that keeps changing.
For capturing that picture, the Evangelical Heritage Version gets my award. It renders Ecclesiastes 1:2:
“Nothing but vapor,” Ecclesiastes said. “Totally vapor. Everything is just vapor that vanishes.”
Reading those words, I find myself back beside Loch Lomond, watching the morning mist.
Ecclesiastes 1:1-3 EHV - The Heading - The words of - Bible Gateway