כִּֽי־אֵינֶ֥נּוּ יֹדֵ֖עַ מַה־שֶּׁיִּֽהְיֶ֑ה כִּ֚י כַּאֲשֶׁ֣ר יִֽהְיֶ֔ה מִ֖י יַגִּ֥יד לֹֽו׃
(Ecclesiastes 8:7)
Philosophy in a Whisper
This verse from Qohelet (Ecclesiastes) doesn’t shout—it leans in and whispers a riddle: “For he does not know what will be, for as it will be, who can tell him?” The form is simple, but the tension is crushing. Human ignorance is not just practical—it’s existential. The structure of the verse builds a paradox where not only is the future hidden, but even the shape of its unknowability is unreachable.
Clause by Clause: Syntax of Uncertainty
The verse opens with a compound clause:
- כִּֽי־אֵינֶ֥נּוּ יֹדֵ֖עַ – “For he does not know” – A Qal participle of יָדַע used with a negative particle.
- מַה־שֶּׁיִּֽהְיֶ֑ה – “what will be” – A relative clause containing a Qal imperfect third masculine singular of הָיָה (“to be”).
Then the logic deepens:
- כִּ֚י כַּאֲשֶׁ֣ר יִֽהְיֶ֔ה – “For as it will be” – a temporal or comparative clause using כַּאֲשֶׁר (“just as, when”).
- מִ֖י יַגִּ֥יד לֹֽו – “who will tell him?” – rhetorical question using Hiphil imperfect of נָגַד (“to declare”).
The symmetry is unsettling: you don’t know the future because the very nature of “what will be” cannot be disclosed. The repetition of הָיָה in both imperfect forms underscores this timeless opacity.
The Grammar of Helplessness
| Feature | Form | Function |
|---|---|---|
| Negative + Participle | אֵינֶנוּ יֹדֵעַ | Denotes ongoing ignorance; the subject continually doesn’t know. |
| Imperfect Verb | יִהְיֶה (x2) | Future indeterminacy. What will be remains undefined. |
| Rhetorical Interrogative | מִי יַגִּיד לוֹ | Highlights the absence of any revealer; no one can tell. |
Qohelet’s Theology: A Wall, Not a Window
Unlike prophetic literature, Ecclesiastes refuses to promise that things will become clear. Instead of revealing the future, the verse stresses that even the mechanism of knowing the future is missing. The future is not just unknown; it is unknowable.
This unknowing is grammatical too. The use of the imperfect here—twice—signals an open-ended, uncompleted event. But paired with a rhetorical question, it becomes a poetic dead end.
The Last Word Is Silence
Ecclesiastes 8:7 doesn’t deny that something will be. It denies that anyone can declare it. The grammar of this verse is simple—but its effect is devastating. You walk through the words expecting a revelation. Instead, you hit a wall of verbal fog.
The only proper response may be silence. Or reverence. Or a quiet smile—because not knowing might just be the most honest kind of knowing.