Showing posts with label Koheles (Ecclesiastes). Show all posts
Showing posts with label Koheles (Ecclesiastes). Show all posts

Friday, October 1, 2021

Does Hashem Actually Care What We Call Shemini Atzeres?

This week's Torah content has been sponsored by an anonymous donor, in memory of her grandmother, Golda Henya bat Devora a"h.

Disclaimer: I usually try to make my articles as accessible as possible by translating Hebrew and Aramic terms and providing background information. However, due to the halachic nature of this topic and the fact that it is a one-page article, I've decided not to provide such explanations. 

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Does Hashem Actually Care What We Call Shemini Atzeres?

I would describe myself as somewhat of a “nusach ha’tefilah geek.” I enjoy researching variations in different nuschaos and attempting to understand their causes and implications. For this reason, my chavrusa and I spent an inordinate amount of time this past Shemini Atzeres delving into the question of how one is supposed to refer to the name of the holiday when mentioning it in tefilah, birkas ha’mazon, and kiddush. Do we say “Yom Shemini Chag ha’Atzeres” (Tur / Shulchan Aruch), “Yom Shemini Atzeres” (Minhagim / Rama), “Yom Shemini Atzeres ha’Chag” (Rashal / Taz), “Yom Chag Shemini Atzeres” (Rambam), or something else?

Our learning prompted us to probe deeply into the very nature of Shemini Atzeres and its relationship to the Chag ha’Sukkos. We emerged with a clearer grasp of the multifaceted halachic character of this unique holiday than we previously had. From the standpoint of enhancing our Yom Tov, this was definitely a worthwhile sugya to take up. And yet, a little over an hour into our learning, I found myself bothered by what some might consider to be an irreverent question: Does Hashem actually care what I call Shemini Atzeres in my tefilah and berachos?

Let me be very clear about what I am asking and what I am not asking. I am not asking, “What's the point of davening at all? What does Hashem get out of our tefilos?” Hashem doesn’t get anything out of our tefilos. Nothing we do affects Him. Tefilah, like all mitzvos, is entirely for our own benefit. I am also not asking, “Why do variants in the nusach ha’tefilah matter?” The Anshei Kneses ha’Gedolah included the greatest chachamim and neviim of their era; it would be both halachically irresponsible and intellectually foolish to deviate from the carefully crafted nusach they established in their unparalleled wisdom. Furthermore, I am not bothered by nusach variants which reflect different ideas, different interpretations, different sources, different emphases, or different minhagim.

My question here is far narrower and is based on an assumption. My assumption is that the Anshei Kneses ha’Gedolah did NOT dictate a specific wording for how we refer to Shemini Atzeres. Rather, they established the halacha of me’ein ha’meora (i.e. the requirement to mention the name of the Yom Tov on the day itself) and they also instructed us to single out Shemini Atzeres as separate from the Chag ha’Sukkos, but they didn’t formulate the precise manner in which we ought to identify the Yom Tov when implementing these halachos. If this assumption is true, then do all these hairsplitting arguments mentioned by the poskim actually matter? Why should we care which version we say if the Anshei Kneses ha’Gedolah didn’t care enough to tell us?

An answer to my question came from a pasuk we read on Shabbos Chol ha’Moed: “Do not be rash with your mouth, and do not let your heart be hasty to utter a word before God; for God is in heaven and you are on earth; therefore, let your words be few” (Koheles 5:1). The Ibn Ezra uses this as a springboard for a lengthy polemic against certain paytanim and the use of piyutim in davening. He opens with the following:

[Utter words before God] only if you understand their meaning … Know that God stands over you. He sees you and hears your words … Therefore, a person who prays is obligated to guard the openings of his mouth; he should contemplate in his heart that he is standing before the King of kings, Who holds the power to kill and to grant life.

If you knew you were going to make an appearance before a king who had the power over life and death, you would certainly make sure you spoke with the highest level of precision and understanding you could muster. To neglect to do so would indicate a lack of reverence, no matter how trifling the content of your speech. Thus, even if the Anshei Kneses ha’Gedolah didn’t establish a particular nusach for how we refer to Shemini Atzeres in our davening, this doesn’t exempt us from doing our due diligence to choose our words with as much understanding and precision as we can, thereby reinforcing our recognition that we are standing in awe and fear before the King of kings. It's not what we call Shemini Atzeres that matters. It's the fact that we care how we speak before God.
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If you've gained from what you've learned here, please consider contributing to my Patreon at www.patreon.com/rabbischneeweiss. Alternatively, if you would like to make a direct contribution to the "Rabbi Schneeweiss Torah Content Fund," my Venmo is @Matt-Schneeweiss, and my Zelle and PayPal are mattschneeweiss at gmail.com. Even a small contribution goes a long way to covering the costs of my podcasts, and will provide me with the financial freedom to produce even more Torah content for you

If you would like to sponsor an article, shiur, or podcast episode, or if you are interested in enlisting my services as a teacher or tutor, you can reach me at rabbischneeweiss at gmail.com. Thank you to my listeners for listening, thank you to my readers for reading, and thank you to my supporters for supporting my efforts to make Torah ideas available and accessible to everyone. 

Be sure to check out my YouTube channel and my podcasts: "The Mishlei Podcast""The Stoic Jew" Podcast"Rambam Bekius" Podcast"Machshavah Lab" Podcast"The Tefilah Podcast"  For the full guide to all of my Torah content, click here

Sunday, September 19, 2021

The Joyful Progression from Yom ha’Kippurim through Sukkos

This week's Torah content has been sponsored by an anonymous donor in gratitude to the YBT community for being so welcoming to the new guys, and to the "old" guys.

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Artwork: Team Pennant, by Anna Fehr

The Joyful Progression from Yom ha'Kippurim Through Sukkos

According to the Abudirham, the sounding of the shofar after Ne’ilah is followed by the recitation of the pasuk: “Go and eat your bread with joy and drink your wine with gladness, for God has already approved of your deeds” (Koheles 9:7). He explains that the source of this minhag is a midrash (Koheles Rabbah 9:7) which says: “When the Jews leave shul at the conclusion of Yom ha’Kippurim, a heavenly voice goes forth and proclaims: ‘Go and eat your bread with joy, for your prayers have been accepted before Me as a pleasing aroma.’”

The Aruch ha’Shulchan (OC 624:7) states that all four days between Yom ha’Kippurim and Sukkos are characterized by the selfsame joy of Motzai Yom ha’Kippurim. They are considered “days of simchah,” which is why we don’t say tachanun or tzidkasecha tzedek. The midrash (Tanchuma 23:18) relates this joy to the Yom Tov of Sukkos itself:

To what may the matter be compared? To two people who entered into judgment before the king, and no one but the king knew what [transpired] between them. The king judged them, but the other people [outside] didn’t know who won. The king said, “Whoever emerges with a palm branch in his hand – it will be known that he won.” So too, Israel and the nations of the world enter into judgment on Yom ha’Kippurim, and nobody knows who won. Ha’Kadosh Baruch Hu said: “Take your lulavim in your hand, and they will know that you were meritorious in judgment.”

On the surface, these sources seem to be at odds with the atmosphere of dread and uncertainty on Yom ha’Kippurim itself. Throughout the Yom ha’Kippurim davening we repeatedly acknowledge that our lives hang in the balance. We continually remind ourselves that one more mitzvah or one more aveirah has the power to seal our judgment for life or for death. We continually underscore the notion that our salvation is not guaranteed, and that teshuvah, tefilah, and tzedakah are our only means of removing the evil of the decree. How can we reconcile the mood of apprehensive contingency on the Yom ha’Din with the assurances of our success at its conclusion?

I believe that an answer can be found in the Rambam’s explanation (Moreh ha’Nevuchim 3:36) of the reason for viduyim, korbanos for sins, and taaniyos. After classifying teshuvah as one of the “doctrines which are indispensable for the well-ordered society of Torah adherents,” the Rambam writes:

If man were convinced that he could never straighten his crooked ways, he would forever continue in his errors, and maybe even increase his disobedience if he believed there was no alternative. But with the belief in teshuvah, he will come back to the good and will return to an even more perfected state – even more perfected than he was before he sinned. For this reason, [we are commanded] in many actions which strengthen our belief in this very beneficial principle [of teshuvah]: for example, the viduyim, and the korbanos for sins … and the taaniyos.

The chief purpose of Yom ha’Kippurim is to reinforce our belief in the efficacy of teshuvah. If we didn’t believe in the power of teshuvah to change ourselves and our fate, we would persist in our harmful ways. But in order for the institution of Yom ha’Kippurim to function in this manner, we must allow ourselves to feel that our teshuvah was accepted. If Yom ha’Kippurim ended and we still felt totally in the dark as to whether our teshuvah, tefilah, and tzedakah paid off, we simply wouldn’t put in the effort in the first place. Imagine a struggling student who is encouraged to improve her grades so that she can graduate from college, but is never informed whether she actually graduated, and is never allowed to celebrate success. How could we expect her to put in the hard work without any hopeful promise of joyfully crossing the finish line?

Thus, the urgency and uncertainty we feel on Yom ha’Kippurim and the relief and joy we feel at its conclusion serve a common goal: to strengthen our belief in the efficacy of teshuvah. With this in mind, "go and eat your bread with joy" this Chag ha'Sukkos, knowing that you are priming yourself for greater teshuvah in the future.
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If you've gained from what you've learned here, please consider contributing to my Patreon at www.patreon.com/rabbischneeweiss. Alternatively, if you would like to make a direct contribution to the "Rabbi Schneeweiss Torah Content Fund," my Venmo is @Matt-Schneeweiss, and my Zelle and PayPal are mattschneeweiss at gmail.com. Even a small contribution goes a long way to covering the costs of my podcasts, and will provide me with the financial freedom to produce even more Torah content for you

If you would like to sponsor an article, shiur, or podcast episode, or if you are interested in enlisting my services as a teacher or tutor, you can reach me at rabbischneeweiss at gmail.com. Thank you to my listeners for listening, thank you to my readers for reading, and thank you to my supporters for supporting my efforts to make Torah ideas available and accessible to everyone. 

Be sure to check out my YouTube channel and my podcasts: "The Mishlei Podcast""The Stoic Jew" Podcast"Rambam Bekius" Podcast"Machshavah Lab" Podcast"The Tefilah Podcast"  For the full guide to all of my Torah content, click here

Thursday, August 4, 2016

Questioning Ends

Originally posted in 2009. Reposting now because this relates directly to the 2016 Olympics, and Tishah b'Av. Also, bear in mind that this was written by the 2009 me. Nowadays, I wouldn't be so quick to initiate a discussion like this.

Artwork: Voyage's End, by Chris Rahn


Questioning Ends

Every once in a while I like to play a game I call "Socrates." The rules are simple: choose a stranger, ask yourself, "What would Socrates talk about with this person?" and initiate a conversation. The resulting discussions are usually very eye-opening, although they are usually very short. I thought it might be interesting to share an example with you. 

Last night I was in the mood to play Socrates on Facebook. Like most Facebook users, I have a large number of "friends" who aren't really friends, but old acquaintances from my past life. One of these old acquaintances - a former classmate from 10th grade, whom we'll call "Jim" - posted a quotation as his Facebook status. The quotation was from a long-distance runner named Paula Radcliffe, and said, "You just have to keep believing that one day you will win." 

I happened to know that Jim is a runner. He was a runner in high school, and from his Facebook profile, it looks as though he would like to make a career out of running. I assumed that this quotation was in reference to one of Jim's running-related goals. 

I asked myself, "What would Socrates say to Jim? Jim clearly thinks highly of this quotation, and I'm sure he'd be willing to discuss it. What should I ask him to get the discussion going?" The answer came to me pretty quickly. I clicked on the "comment" section under Jim's status and typed a single question: "Why is it important to win?" 

I chose this question because I really wanted to know. During the Beijing Olympics I often wondered what really drives these people, in their minds. If you asked them why winning is important, would they really try to rationally argue for the value of winning? Would they admit that winning isn't objectively important, but that it had always been a childhood dream which they feel compelled to achieve? Would they give an answer like, "I want to see what I am capable of" or "I want to show the world that it is possible to overcome one's limitations and achieve one's dreams"? How many of them would just shrug their shoulders and say, "For the fun of it"? And most of all, I wondered how many of them simply don't think about why they should try to win; they just go for it. 

The first response I received was from one of Jim's friends, who wrote: 
Winning is how you define it. Too many people say winning is being the 1st place in anything. I say trying your best, having fun, and learning something new have a lot to do with being a winner ... and I think you do that every day. 
A second one of Jim's friends said: 
I think what this quote means is that if you keep believing in your dreams and give the best you can day in and day out and train like there's no tomorrow, then you will win. Not in a sense of place necessarily, as [Friend #1] said, but in a sense that you have done everything you could, and in doing so, you achieve your dream (i.e. win). 
I noted that neither Friend #1 nor Friend #2 had really understood my question as I had intended it. They thought I was asking about the meaning of the quotation itself, when in truth, I was really asking about the premise of the quotation. I tried to clarify with the following comment: 
I definitely agree that it is important to believe in yourself and your dreams and to try your best, and that by doing all of these things, you increase your chances of winning. My question was not about the means, but about the end: Why is winning important? 
Is "winning" really "however you define it," as [Friend #1] said? If winning means "trying your best, having fun, and learning something new," then you don't have to believe that one day you will do these things - you can just do them today! And if achieving your dream is winning, then shouldn't you first evaluate whether your dream is a good thing before you strive to achieve it? A person might dream of climbing Mt. Everest, but if he achieves this dream, does that really make him a better person? Will it really make him happy? 
That is what I mean by: Why is winning important?
Finally, Jim responded. He said: 
The quote really means to get to the heart of not doubting it when it seems a dream is impossible. I'm headed for the 2012 Olympic trials in the 10k. This requires six miles of 4:40 per mile, if not faster. I'm nowhere near that fitness level, and to get there takes TONS: miles, time, focus, exercises, effort, etc. Believing I can banish a past of lukewarm effort with this journey is really hard to believe. So it is that belief in something so preposterous it seems highly unattainable is the belief of which Paula Radcliffe speaks. That is what speaks to me. 
I realized then that there was probably no point in going on with the discussion. It was clear that he still didn't (or couldn't) see my question, whether because of my lack of clarity or his inability to think about the ends he was pursuing. Most of all, I didn't want to risk shaking the foundations of Jim's goal in life for no good reason. 

Nevertheless, I gained a lot from this brief discussion. Thinking about Jim's state made me feel extremely grateful to the chachamim from whom I've learned, and from the Torah-system which produced them, and from the One who gave us that Torah-system. I am thankful to live a life in which self-reflection and introspection are a part of everyday living, and I am happy to have been granted the knowledge, skills, and the personal disposition which make this self-reflection and introspection possible. 

Blessed is the True Existence Who gave the Torah to Israel, His people.

Tuesday, August 2, 2016

Texting, Torah, and the Stamina for Immortality

Originally published in April 2012 (not counting the updated social media references). 



Texting, Torah, and the Stamina for Immortality

The Technological Generation Gap

I heard a shiur by Rabbi AZ about this generation's unprecedented preoccupation with and dependence on technology. Smartphones, Facebook, texting, Snapchat, Instagram, and other forms of online/electronic social networking - the average teenager considers these things to be an indispensable component of his or her very being. Many of these kids cannot conceive of a life in which they are not constantly connected to their social circle via the various modes of technology. To some, the thought of giving up their phone is actually terrifying. 

Members of the older generations have a difficult time understanding this phenomenon. To them, the notion of being so attached to their cell phone is laughable, pathetic, and altogether mystifying. "What do you mean you can't live without your phone?" "Do you really need to be texting everywhere you go?" "How much time do you spend on YouTube anyway?" "Don't you want to spend time with your friends in person instead of communicating with them through typing?" These expressions of astonishment reflect a drastic disconnect with the direction in which the world is moving. 

Rabbi AZ believes that this new wave of technology will change (and is already changing) the way our minds and psyches work. Just as such changes have occurred with every major technological advancement in history (e.g. the agricultural revolution, the invention of the printing press, the industrial revolution), so too, the human psyche will be changed with the rise of the "information age." Rabbi AZ maintains that the driving force behind this change is the fact that we carry our technology on our bodies and are connected 24/7 (or 24/6, for Jews). This constant connectedness to our social circles and to the world is largely responsible for the change in how we relate to others and how we relate to ourselves.

Changes in Man

Some might challenge Rabbi AZ's assertion by quoting the words of Shlomo ha'Melech in Koheles:
Whatever has been is what will be, and whatever has been done is what will be done. There is nothing new under the sun. Sometimes there is something of which one says: "Look, this is new!" - it has already existed in the ages before us. As there is no recollection of the former ones, so too, of the latter ones that are yet to be, there will be no recollection among those of a still later time (Koheles 1:9-11).
"How can you say that things are changing?" one might ask. "Are you saying that just because we have new technology, the way that humans operate will change?"

The answer is that Shlomo ha'Melech was talking about the permanent nature of things - not the particulars, which clearly do change. Adler provides a good example of this distinction in Desires Right & Wrong: the Ethics of Enough (1991):
[We] must distinguish between primary natural needs and those that are secondary and instrumental. The primary natural needs are those that are inherent in human nature and so are the same for all human beings everywhere and at all times. Having a capacity for knowledge, man has a natural need for it. As Aristotle said, "man by nature desires to know."

To acquire knowledge, human beings do not need schools as now constituted and operated. At other times and other other circumstances, the need for knowledge was served by parental instruction, indoctrination and discipline by the elders of the tribe, pedagogues and tutors, and so on. There are many different means to serve the acquisition of knowledge by the young. At different times and under different circumstances, each of these different means may be required to implement the acquisition of the real good needed.

These secondary and instrumental needs can be called "natural" only in the sense that they are means for implementing needs that are natural. They themselves are not natural in the sense of being inherent in human nature and so common to all human beings everywhere and at all times.

Keeping this distinction in mind helps us answer the question often asked: "Do not natural needs change from time to time and with variations in the surrounding circumstances?" The answer is both no and yes. No, primary natural needs never vary. Yes, the instrumental needs that we call "natural" because they are needed to implement our natural desires, do change.

In our present society, people think schools are needed; that was not always the case. In our urban society, people think that public transportation is needed to serve the need to earn a living by those who live at a distance from their place of work. That was not the case in tribal life or in rural agricultural communities. Health is a primary natural need, but it is only in an environment being polluted by the effects of advanced technology that we now need, secondarily and instrumentally, environmental protection for the care of our health.

When the word "need" is used with reference to whatever may be needed to implement our natural desires, we must remember that, unlike our primary natural needs, the secondary instrumental needs are variable. New needs come into existence; needs that once existed disappear. Such variation in needs violates the sense of the word "natural" when it is applied to primary needs. The secondary needs can be called "natural" only in the sense that the goods needed to serve to implement genuinely natural needs.
Our growing dependence on recent technology falls into the category of "secondary instrumental needs." At its core, the human psyche remains the same, but changes in our secondary instrumental needs can trigger changes in our psyche and the way we view the world.

The Tragedy of the Vampire

As I listened to Rabbi AZ's shiur, I was reminded of a passage in Anne Rice's book, Interview with the Vampire (1974), which I am currently rereading. 

SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! 

The protagonist of the book is Louis. In 1791 Louis is transformed against his will into a vampire by another vampire named Lestat. The two of them subsequently transform a five year old girl named Claudia into a vampire, whom Louis grows to regard as his beloved immortal daughter. Louis and Claudia eventually flee from Lestat and travel to France where they encounter a group of "Old World" vampires led by the 400-year-old Armand. A series of sinister events leads to the death of Claudia and all of the other "Old World" vampires except for Armand. Louis and Armand band together as the sole survivors, and begin to develop a vampiric companionship.

Up until this point, the nature of this companionship has not been defined. It is only towards the end, when Louis is contemplating leaving, that Armand tells him why he needs a companion:
[Armand:] "You fear that, the isolation of it, the burden, the scope of eternal life."

[Louis:] "Yes, that's true, but that's only a small part of it. The era, it doesn't mean much to me. She (Claudia) made it mean something. Other vampires must experience this and survive it, the passing of a hundred eras."

[Armand:] "But they don't survive it. The world would be choked with vampires if they survived it. How do you think I came to be the eldest here or anywhere?" he asked.

[Louis:] I thought about this. And then I ventured, "They die by violence?"

[Armand:] "No, almost never. It isn't necessary. How many vampires do you think have the stamina for immortality? They have the most dismal notions of immortality to begin with. For in becoming immortal they want all the forms of their life to be fixed as they are and incorruptible: carriages made in the same dependable fashion, clothing of the cut which suited their prime, men attired and speaking in the manner they have always understood and valued. When, in fact, all things change except the vampire himself; everything except the vampire is subject to constant corruption and distortion. Soon, with an inflexible mind, and often even with the most flexible mind, this immortality becomes a penitential sentence in a madhouse of figures and forms that are hopelessly unintelligible and without value. One evening a vampire rises and realizes what he has feared perhaps for decades, that he simply wants no more of life at any cost. That whatever style or fashion or shape of existence made immortality attractive to him has been swept off the face of the earth. And nothing remains to offer freedom from despair except the act of killing. And the vampire goes out to die. No one will find his remains. No one will know where he has gone. And often no one around him - should he still seek the company of other vampires - no one will know that he is in despair. He will have ceased long ago to speak of himself or of anything. He will vanish." 
That is why Armand needs Louis. Armand senses that he is unable to connect to the present generation and is in danger of remaining frozen in the world of the past, which is quickly fading.
"I must make contact with the age," he said to me calmly. "And I can do this through you ... not to learn things from you which I can see in a moment in an art gallery or read in an hour in the thickest books ... you are the spirit, you are the heart," he persisted.
The Torah's Stamina for Immortality

The dilemma that confronts the vampire, as expressed by Armand, closely parallels the dilemma that confronts the teachers of Torah in the face of the changes in technology and society. Rabbi AZ concluded his shiur by calling attention to the fact that the educational methods employed by the guardians of the Mesorah (Torah tradition) must be adapted to this rapidly changing world. If the methods used by teachers clash with the mentality of the present generation, we risk alienating the modern Jewish teenager. Rabbi AZ said:
The question is: How can the method of learning Torah - how can the process of learning the methodology and the Mesorah - how can that transform from [the old way] to the new way that people think, the new way that they take in knowledge ... The old ways are fixed, and the people running the institutions are not 20 years old. They're 50 years old. They don't live in this kind of world. So the old institutions are made for different people. 
New changes in educational media are happening every day. Public services such as Google and Wikipedia have revolutionized the manner in which people seek out knowledge and information. Devices like the Kindle and iPad are threatening to replace the book as the medium of learning. Institutions like TED and Khan Academy are changing the way people educate themselves.

We have seen our Mesorah undergo many changes throughout the millennia of the Torah's existence: 
  • The transition from having "direct access to Hashem" via Moshe Rabbeinu in the Midbar, to the implementation of an independently standing Torah-system in Eretz Yisrael. 
  • The transition from the age of Nevi'im to the post-prophetic era. 
  • The transition from a centralized, authoritative Sanhedrin overseeing the formulation and transmission of Torah she'baal Peh, to the fragmented educational organizations in galus
  • The transition from a purely oral Torah she'baal Peh, to a limud Torah she'baal Peh that is anchored in writing: first in the form of the Mishnah, then the Sifra, Sifrei, Tosefta, and Braisos, then the Talmuds, and so on. 
  • The transition from the "Geonic monopoly" of the to post-Geonic authority. 
  • The transition psak that naturally emanated from learning the primary sources of Torah she'baal Peh to psak rooted in the written works of the poskim
Although the Torah itself is perfect and unchanging, these changes in our circumstances have made it necessary to adapt. For example, if Rebbi Yehuda ha'Nasi had not radically altered the model of teaching Torah she'baal Peh, then it would have been utterly lost. His decision to alter the manner in which Torah was taught and learned does not imply any lack of perfection in the Torah itself.

The sum of the matter is that the Torah does have the stamina for immortality, but in order to tap into that stamina, the teachers of Torah in every generation must adapt to the continually shifting reality of the present age. The guardian of the Mesorah must embody the spirit of Torah, but must simultaneously "make contact with the age." The teacher who fails to do this runs the serious risk of stultifying the Torah in the eyes of the contemporary student and endangering the entire chain of the Mesorah.

Thursday, July 28, 2016

Koheles: On Romanticizing the Past

Artwork: Time Walk, by Chris Rahn


Koheles: On Romanticizing the Past

There's a certain category of Facebook posts that I encounter from time to time. Sometimes these posts contain reminiscences about the past. Sometimes they voice criticisms of new fads and trends. Almost all of them feature either an explicit or implicit critique of "kids these days," and almost all of them express their message in a curmudgeonly manner. Here are some examples:








Whenever I see or hear anything like this, I am reminded of a pasuk in Koheles:
אַל תֹּאמַר מֶה הָיָה שֶׁהַיָּמִים הָרִאשֹׁנִים הָיוּ טוֹבִים מֵאֵלֶּה, כִּי לֹא מֵחָכְמָה שָׁאַלְתָּ עַל זֶה:
"Do not say, 'How was it that former times were better than these?' - for you have not asked this out of wisdom" (Koheles 7:10).
The question is: What is the fallacy here? Why is it foolish to ask why the former times were better than these? 

Rav Avraham Farissol [1] offers the following answer:
It is human nature for those who are advanced in age, after they have grown old and have endured the vicissitudes of life, to make this error of degrading the present while lavishing praise and adoration on the past, [saying,] "I remember the olden days." [In truth,] it is possible that the past was worse than this
The reason [why these elderly people say this] is because the days of youth are perpetually sweet for all young people, whereas the days of old age are bitter.
Therefore, this chacham (i.e. Shlomo ha'Melech) warned you to avoid this [type of thinking] so that you don't become enfeebled or increase your worry as you grow old, thereby causing you to refrain from embracing that which you need to do. [2]  
He says, "for you have not asked this out of wisdom" because "if you have become wise, you have become wise for yourself" (Mishlei 9:12) to know that time is cyclical, going round and round, causing whatever happens to happen, and there is nothing which is [actually] new - only accidentally new, and new to him but not new to the earlier generations, "for that which was is that which will be" (Koheles 1:9)
According to my understanding, Rav Farissol's answer can be broken down into five points:
(1) The feeling that life was better in the olden days isn't necessarily true; some things might be better, but others might be worse.
(2) This rosy view of the past is not the result of a rigorous, objective investigation and evaluation of the quality of life in each time period; rather, it stems from a psychological tendency which is prevalent in those who are advanced in age.
(3) The cause of this psychological tendency is that the days of youth tend to be sweet, relative to the days of old age; this "sweetness" colors one's perception of the entire time period.
(4) Shlomo ha'Melech warned us about this because this type of thinking can become a stumbling block in old age, insofar as it prevents one from dealing with the present.
(5) Those who understand the way of the world recognize that there is nothing in human society which is actually new; human nature is essentially the same in every era, and the only differences are in the particulars.
To my mind, this last point is the most significant - at least, in the context of Koheles as a whole. If I had to sum up the theme of Koheles in a single sentence, it would be this: Koheles is about the futility of man's quest for yisron. The literal translation of "yisron" is "more" or "advantage" or "gain." Shlomo ha'Melech uses this as a place-holder term that refers to anything a person seeks which he believes will bring him ultimate happiness, remove his suffering, and make his life complete. When a person feels, "All I need is __________ and then I'll be happy!" or "If only I had _________ then all of my problems would be solved!" - that "blank" is yisron

Though it may be easy to see through the yisron fantasy in the abstract, the satan is in the details. The yisron fantasy takes on an infinite variety of forms - all of them seductive and insidious. That is why the vast majority of Koheles is devoted to "debunking" a wide variety of common yisron-fantasies. By walking us through many examples of different flavors of yisron, Shlomo ha'Melech hopes we will learn how to spot a yisron-fantasy before we become ensnared by it.

The yisron in our pasuk is especially sneaky, since it manifests itself as a longing for something in the past, rather than as a drive to obtain something in the future. Instead of feeling, "Once I get _________ then life will be great!" the old person feels, "If only I could go back to the way things were, then life would be great!"

It would seem that the key to undoing this particular yisron is to recognize the truth that Koheles states in his introduction:
Whatever has been is what will be, and whatever has been done is what will be done. There is nothing new under the sun. Sometimes there is something of which one says: "Look, this is new!" - this has already existed in the ages before us. As there is no recollection of the former ones, so too, of the latter ones that are yet to be, there will be no recollection among those of a still later time (Koheles 1:9-11).
Human nature is a constant, and is the source of almost all of our problems. [3] These problems might look different than the problems of past generations, but at their core, they are the same. The trick is to see past the particulars.

Thankfully, the Internet provides no shortage of humorous examples which illustrate this point, and which counteract the examples at the beginning of this post. Here's my favorite one:


One can imagine an elderly fellow attempting to defend the inherent virtue of painted portraits over selfie sticks, but the student of Koheles will see both phenomena as expressions of the same egocentric drive for self-glorification and immortality. The same goes for all other expressions of human nature.

The past, the present, and the future are filled with the same problems. There is nothing new under the sun.

[1] Rav Avraham Farissol, Commentary on Megilas Koheles 7:10
[2] The underlined portion reflects my best attempt at understanding the author's intent. I found his switching between 2nd and 3rd person to be rather confusing.
[3] See Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides) Guide for the Perplexed 3:11-12 for an extensive treatment of this topic.