The Messiness of Wisdom


Dear Friends,
According to dictionary.com, wisdom is defined as “knowledge of what is true or right coupled with just judgment as to action; sagacity, discernment, or insight.”

Wisdom is more than intelligence. Wisdom uses our native intelligence to make decisions that are right and good. Wisdom keeps us from foolishness, according to the author of Ephesians. And wisdom is what Solomon sought when God asked him in a dream what it was he most wanted.

For people of the Christian faith, wisdom is a gift from God that is used to bring our world ever closer to God’s realm. Wisdom thus involves not just thought but action.

In worship on Sunday, I used a familiar image when I spoke of wisdom: Rodin’s sculpture The Thinker. But that’s only part of the story of wisdom. After one thinks, one is moved to action based on one’s thoughts.

As Paula Poceicha, our Regional Minister for Congregational Care, pointed out during the Invitation to Communion, wisdom can be messy. It’s chaotic. Wisdom is not linear like intelligence. Wisdom does not necessarily go neatly from point A to point B to point C.

We prefer in our daily lives the straightforwardness and sedentary nature of intelligence. With wisdom, we are moved to action in the midst of a world that doesn’t make sense.

Wisdom eschews the greed and denial of the world, opting instead for justice and getting our hands dirty with the work to which God calls us.

Wisdom is indeed chaotic as doing the right thing is not always clear and easy. Wisdom can lead us down paths we’d rather not travel and may even make us unpopular. Wisdom is engaging the intelligence of the world and bending it and turning it to become wise and discerning.

Seek wisdom; each and every day. Be ready for the chaos and the confusion it brings.

Peace,
Gerry

text © Gerry Brague
photo © Wally Gobetz, wallyg on flickr used by Creative Commons license

Sermon, Sunday, 16 August 2009

1 Kings 2:10-12, 3:3-14 Ephesians 5:15-20

Suppose you were granted one wish, for what would you ask? I know that genies in lamps regularly allow three wishes, but this is an irregular lamp purchased at the seconds outlet and you only get one wish. Would you ask for money? For fame? For health? For power? Or perhaps, thinking on a bigger scale, you’d ask for world peace. Or for an end to any number of the terrible diseases that are all around us. Or for poverty and homelessness and hunger to cease.

I’m willing to wager that many people in our society today might ask for such things; either the self motivated or other-motivated wishes. Solomon, the son of King David who was given the kingdom upon David’s death, was indeed granted the opportunity to ask for something and, as we know, he chose wisdom. And along with building the Temple in Jerusalem, Solomon is known for his wisdom.

There are those who would argue that only a wise person would ask for wisdom, something of a circular argument, if you ask me. But Solomon, we heard, got it both ways: because he chose wisdom, he got riches and honor throughout his life.

Solomon said he chose wisdom because he was so young. And that’s likely true that he was young: he may have been about 20 years old when he became king. Such a young age to inherit a realm. And having to follow his father, David, the great king who made Israel what it was during its glory days. Not to mention having to deal with a jealous older brother who expected the throne as his and with his father’s several enemies still hovering around. With all the intrigue swirling about him, it’s no wonder that he asked to be discerning and wise.

Think for a moment about the difference between wisdom and intelligence. Is there any? Are intelligent people automatically wise? I don’t think they are. I wouldn’t be surprised, for example, to find out that our former president Richard Nixon was intelligent. But was he wise? Did he rule wisely? Some might ask the same thing about another former president, Bill Clinton. In fact, many of our world leaders in this era would likely be described as intelligent but I find wisdom is at a premium.

It’s interesting to note that in the Ephesians passage for this morning that the opposite of wisdom isn’t stupidity but foolishness: Be careful then how you live, not as unwise people but as wise, making the most of the time, because the days are evil. So do not be foolish, but understand what the will of the Lord is. (5:15-17) Ephesians’ author points to an important distinction between wisdom and intelligence; there is a relational and ethical aspect to wisdom that is not ascribed to intelligence. If we are wise, we seek to understand God’s will. It’s ongoing in its relationship as we attempt to use the intelligence we do have for the good.

Maintaining wisdom is a tricky business. Solomon struggled with it throughout his life and at the end he ended up looking fairly foolish by worshiping the gods of his many foreign wives. Though he sought wisdom as the fresh-faced young man we found in today’s reading, sustaining it through to the end was something he was unable to do. Because in worshiping other gods, in turning his back on the God of Israel who had sustained him and brought him the riches and honor that came as bonus gifts with the wisdom, he showed his foolishness and lack of willingness to seek out wisdom.

I keep hearing that we have the capacity to end hunger. We are intelligent enough to do that. We have the intelligence, I pray, to turn around global warming and stop the destruction of our planet. But sadly I’m not certain we are wise enough; because greed and denial seem always to be entering in and preventing us from actually doing the difficult work necessary to do that which is needed.

As a culture we have strained our relation with the divine, much as Solomon did at the end of his long life. Mind you, please note that I did not say “as a nation;” in spite of the vocal protestations of many of a more conservative stripe, I don’t believe we are or should be a Christian nation. But I wonder if those of us who do proclaim ourselves to be Christian (to keep it in the family) are actually wise. Are there among us, those who seek the will of God in daily dealings and each decision? Is that something each of us does? Do we seek wisdom each and every day? Or do we ask for it, assume we’ve got it, tuck it into our purse or back pocket and then forget it?

We can’t rely on our intelligence alone. I’ve already raised the examples of what happens when we’re intelligent without the moral and relational aspects of wisdom. It’s no different if we’re a regular old Joe or Jane and making day-to-day decisions that seemingly affect us and only perhaps a small circle of family and friends or if we’re one of those world leaders whose choices affects dozens and dozens of others.

Because we fool ourselves if we think the options we choose affect only a small circle around us. Behind each decision we make, because of the relational aspect of wisdom, are the lives of many others we don’t know. A theologian or philosopher, whose name I cannot recall, once said that the course of history rests on whether he decides to have a cup of tea or not.

Each moment in our lives we are making decisions and as people of faith, we are called to make them wisely; remembering our relationships, with God, with each other and recognizing the outcomes of those decisions. It’s very easy to fall into lockstep with a culture that is so firmly grounded in greed and denial, forgetting that our choices affect others, many of them much worse off than we are and opting for our own gain over the good of others.

Wisdom is portrayed as a female figure in other Hebrew Bible writings; a woman who calls out for believers to follow her. She says:
“Come, eat of my bread
and drink of the wine I have mixed.
Lay aside immaturity, and live,
and walk in the way of insight.”(Proverbs 9:5-6)
That is true wisdom, laying aside the immaturity that holds us back and walking in the way of true insight. Be as the young Solomon was and seek out wisdom, not once or twice, but each and every moment.

(Photo by Davic from Flickr http://www.flickr.com/photos/davic/3083793614/; Painting by Paolo Veronese, "Allegory of Wisdom and Strength," c. 1580)

Sermon, Sunday, 2 August 2009

John 6:24-35

I don’t know about you, but I find it all too tempting and much too easy to spiritualize Jesus’ words especially as found in the book of John. We like to think that there’s something transcendent about what Jesus has to say. We’re looking for higher meaning. In fact, if you do a quick survey of the chapters preceding the one we heard this morning we find some rather otherworldly things going on. There’s Jesus speaking with Nicodemus about being born again or born of the Spirit turning the earthy, messy event of giving birth into a spiritual one. Then, shortly after that, Jesus has a conversation with a Samaritan woman at a well and speaks of living water. Again, he uses an image of water--splashing, wet water--and turns it into something else; something ethereal. And then in this morning’s reading, Jesus proclaims himself the bread of life; and once again we have a very basic staple from the earth, the stuff of life itself, bread, and talks about it in spiritual ways.

Jesus doesn’t really help things much by initiating what we call communion by using bread to speak of his body a little later on. We call communion a holy meal, sometimes even a feast, but when you stop to think about it, it’s not much of a meal, none-the-less a feast. It’s a little piece of bread; a tiny bit of flour and yeast and water mixed together; hardly enough to assuage anyone with a stomach-growling hunger who may approach the Table. By instituting this “meal” with bread, he further spiritualizes this very common commodity.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Because it’s dangerous to think of Jesus or his teaching just in spiritual terms. In doing so, we run the risk of falling into a trap of saying to those who suffer right here, right now that their reward will be in heaven or that they’ll have an extra star in their heavenly crown or some such unhelpful comment. By separating the spiritual from the physical, and elevating the spiritual over the physical, we just might miss the suffering that is going on all around us.

And there’s not really any reason to do so. If I may, I’d like to back up in John’s gospel again, but only going back a few verses this time rather than to the chapters I mentioned earlier. The start of chapter six, almost immediately preceding our reading this morning about living bread, is about real live bread which Jesus uses to feed five thousand. The narrative just prior to Jesus’ words this morning have Jesus using a young boy’s five loaves and two fishes to fill the stomachs of some very hungry people. Only the story of Jesus walking across the water to reach the boat the disciples were in intersects the two sections of the gospel about bread.

Bishop Desmond Tutu of South Africa spoke words that have echoes in our gospel reading today. He said: “I don't preach a social gospel; I preach the Gospel, period. The gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ is concerned for the whole person. When people were hungry, Jesus didn't say, ‘Now is that political or social?’ He said, ‘I feed you.’ Because the good news to a hungry person is bread.”* Tutu recognizes that there is no split between our physical hunger and our spiritual hunger. He sees in Jesus one who reacts to people’s needs where they are and who they are.

Given the proximity of the feeding of the 5,000 story to our scripture for this morning, it is somewhat surprising that the big request that the crowd had for Jesus was for a sign that he was actually from God. “What sign are you going to give us then, so that we may see it and believe you?” (6:30) they asked and then pointed out that manna appeared to their ancestors in the wilderness when they were hungry. Didn’t they just receive their fill of bread and fish? Didn’t they see that miracle happen right in front of them? Here they are chasing after a beleaguered Jesus only to require another sign.

I’m not certain I would have had Jesus’ patience because he just gives them the answer, “I’m the bread you’re looking for, the bread of life.”

It’s not surprising that manna comes up in this passage; manna was bread from heaven. John, our gospel writer, would have known that as would his original audience. The connection would have been immediate and strong for both author and hearer. Especially considering that by the time John’s gospel was written, the last of the four, a ritual of a holy meal had certainly taken hold; the holy meal that I’ve already mentioned that we call communion, the Eucharist, the Lord’s supper. A holy meal with an emphasis on bread. More than that, though, the early church had a sense of a feast; a common gathering for a meal that was in itself holy and sacred. This was a meal when the poorest of the community shared with the richest at table, breaking bread, holding in common a meal, the meal.

Manna comes from heaven and John reminds us that Jesus does too. Manna fed hungry people lost in the wilderness and Jesus fed a large gathering of people, out far from towns, from places they could get food. And Jesus offered himself as bread, bread once again from heaven. Bread for those wandering and hungry in their own wildernesses.

Yes, it is dangerous to overspiritualize all of this, but on the other hand there is a danger of ignoring the spiritual elements. It’s a balance between the earthy and the heavenly. The missionary and evangelist D.T. Niles sums it up when he says “Christianity is one beggar telling another beggar where he found bread.”*

Indeed we are all beggars, seeking bread, living bread, to appease a growling stomach that won’t let go, that won’t let us stop seeking the slaking of our hunger, our deep, deep hunger for the bread Jesus provides.

* Both quotes were found on the United Church of Christ lectionary website, Samuel (http://www.ucc.org/worship/samuel/august-2-2009-eighteenth-sunday.html)

Photo by John Cordes, used by permission
(c) Gerry Brague, 2 August 2009