The Beginning of Wisdom

Proverbs 1:2-7

Robert M. Watkins

May 6, 2007

 

I feel a particular kinship with the compiler and editor of the Book of Proverbs. He wanted his child to know how to survive within the world and he wanted to do all he could to shore up the chances of that child succeeding. Rather than run to the store to buy all the items for a survival kit, the editor instead compiled a collection of wise sayings—little scraps and ideas reflective of the truth that will guide a person through the wilderness of everyday life. He did so not as a great scholar or as a dogmatic theologian, but as a parent scared to death that his child would grow out from under him before he had a chance to prepare that child for life. I can relate to that. Nearly every parent can relate to that.

 

Children are fleeting. They grow so fast. I thought about that last week as I joined in the worship service led by our young people. I thought about it again as the Session listened to our Confirmands’ faith statements. We only have these young folks among us for a little while. They go from running in the halls of the Weekday School to ambling along with their teenaged peers to sitting here being celebrated for having completed their Master’s work in grad school to sending out wedding invitations. It happens in a moment.

 

Have we prepared them for life? Have we given them the tools and the skills they need?

 

Those are such difficult questions to consider. They are questions that can become haunting as time passes.

 

At this time of year—one of school awards programs, exams, graduations, and job searches—those questions loom in our minds. We watch a student stride across the dais and we wonder what it is they are striding toward.

 

The editor of Proverbs did the same thing and came up with his collection of wise sayings. He saw his child marching into an unknown and decided the best thing to have would be right thinking. If you begin to wade through his compendium of wisdom—and it is a wade, for he found over 30 chapters of two line quips that summed up good thinking—a couple of themes begin to emerge.

 

The first is that all of us are pulled between two forces—doing the right thing and doing the easy thing. Reality indicates that these two things are rarely identical. What comes easily is probably not always the best thing for us to do. Doing what is right requires effort in most cases, effort that sometimes leads us to settle for something other than what is needed.

 

For instance, there is the art of love. In our faith, we are taught that loving the people we encounter within life is what we are called to do in order to be truly faithful. It sounds simple, but it is extraordinarily difficult. Human beings are bundles of good points and bad; gifts and weaknesses; charm and odiousness. We can be drawn to someone because they charmed us with kind words and warm attention only to find out it was a ploy to get us to buy into some scheme. We can be met by someone who professes to be in dire need only to discover it is a con game and we’ve been had. We can discover someone with amazing gifts who is a complete ogre to be around. The easy thing would be to follow our prejudices and judgments, rejecting some folks and accepting others, but the right thing is to learn how to accept all whom we encounter, working through the difficulties to find the basis for relating to one another. Doing the right thing, then, requires Herculean effort, and in some cases, we decide it isn’t worth it, and we are left with a problem.

 

The second theme that emerges is that we are all fools at times and sages at others. Wisdom is not something we will ever perfect or hold in completion. We will always be growing and learning. We will forever be incomplete.

 

The Book of Ecclesiastes accepted this as true, but found it almost unbearable. It is this concept that leads the great preacher Qoholeth to declare that all of life is vanity. How do we cope with this recognition of our state of being? The editor of Proverbs seems to indicate that this point is actually cause for celebration. He wants his child to know and understand that life is a journey and that, in being a journey, there will always be discovery. Only a fool chooses stasis as the way to live. We will make mistakes and we will stumble over our own feet. That’s just the way it is. But it is through those mistakes and stumbles that we learn who and what we are. We can fall into self-rejection, or we can see that a mistake actually opens the door for another way to take. Last week, the youth used Robert Frost’s poem, “The Road Not Taken” in their slide show. A close reading of that poem reveals that Mr. Frost was never quite sure that his choice was the right one. In some ways, he is trying to justify his choice, but gives the sense that he remains unconvinced by his own arguments. There is a path not taken back where he started. He has a choice—live with regrets or perhaps do the unthinkable and try the road left untrod. The editor of Proverbs encourages this second option. Make mistakes, but don’t let them rob you of the truth that they can be corrected. Wisdom always sees another chance, and another road to take.

 

And this is what separates the way of Christ from the way of Qoholeth. With Christ, there is grace. All is not vanity. Life has meaning and purpose. God is ever-present to guide us in the path of discovery. Recognizing that truth is the beginning of wisdom—we are all children of God. That knowledge gives us the courage to make the journey and protection from the breaks in the road. We are with God, now and always. That is wisdom that can see us into tomorrow, whatever comes. What a remarkable gift to receive.