Thursday of the 25th Week of Ordinary Time
"Vanity of vanities,"says the Preacher; "Vanity of vanities, all is vanity." What does man gain from all his labor in which he labors under the sun? One generation goes, and another generation comes; but the earth remains forever. The sun also rises, and the sun goes down, and hurries to its place where it rises. The wind goes toward the south, and turns around to the north. It turns around continually as it goes, and the wind returns again to its courses. All the rivers run into the sea, yet the sea is not full. To the place where the rivers flow, there they flow again. All things are full of weariness beyond uttering. The eye is not satisfied with seeing, nor the ear filled with hearing. That which has been is that which shall be, and that which has been done is that which shall be done; and there is no new thing under the sun. Is there a thing of which it may be said, "Behold, this is new "? It has been long ago, in the ages which were before us. There is no memory of the former; neither shall there be any memory of the latter that are to come, among those that shall come after.
You turn man to destruction, saying, "Return, you children of men." For a thousand years in your sight are just like yesterday when it is past, Like a watch in the night.
You sweep them away as they sleep. In the morning they sprout like new grass. In the morning it sprouts and springs up. By evening, it is withered and dry.
So teach us to count our days, That we may gain a heart of wisdom. Relent, Lord! How long? Have compassion on your servants!
Satisfy us in the morning with your loving kindness, That we may rejoice and be glad all our days.
Let the favor of the Lord our God be on us. Establish the work of our hands for us. Yes, establish the work of our hands.
Now Herod the tetrarch heard of all that was done by him; and he was very perplexed, because it was said by some that John had risen from the dead, And by some that Elijah had appeared, and by others that one of the old prophets had risen again. Herod said, "I beheaded John, but who is this about whom I hear such things?"He sought to see him.
There's a kind of relief in Qoheleth's bluntness. "Vanity of vanities — all is vanity." No softening, no qualifier. Just the raw observation that the sun keeps rising, rivers keep running to a sea that never fills, and generations come and go without leaving much of a trace. For a sacred text, it's remarkably honest about how ordinary life can feel: repetitive, inconclusive, a little exhausting.
Most of us know that feeling. We finish a project, and another one appears. We have a difficult conversation, and then we have it again with someone else six months later. The inbox empties and refills. There's no new thing under the sun — and some days, that lands heavy.
But notice how the Psalm doesn't argue with Ecclesiastes. It doesn't rush to fix the feeling. Instead, it pivots toward something quieter: *teach us to count our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.* The movement here is not from despair to optimism, but from despair to attention. Count your days — not to be morbid, but to stop sleepwalking through them.
And then there's Herod. He's heard the rumors about Jesus and can't quite place him. "Who is this?" he asks. What's telling is that Herod *seeks to see him* — not out of faith, but out of curiosity, maybe anxiety. He wants to categorize Jesus the way we sometimes try to categorize God: to make the mystery manageable, to file it somewhere safe.
The readings together push us toward a different posture — not mastery, but receptivity. Not filling every hour with noise, but letting the repetition of ordinary days become a kind of school.
What would it mean to count today as one of your numbered days? Where might we be treating God as a curiosity to satisfy rather than a presence to encounter? And what in the daily routine — the commute, the meal, the familiar conversation — might be asking us to pay closer attention?