Jack McKinney
August 20, 2006 – Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost
Text: Proverbs 9:1-6, 10
She Knows the Way
Disturbing news has reached me about some of you fine Baptist folk. Word has it that some of you are spending an inordinate amount of time in local drinking establishments. I must say, as your pastor, I am very disappointed. I’m disappointed that not one of you has invited me to come along.
Now before you jump to the wrong conclusion let me be clear that I’m not talking about imbibing alcohol. Heaven knows that the only thing more uncomfortable than watching a Baptist preacher get tipsy is watching an Episcopal priest eat dinner with a salad fork. No, what I am referencing is the fact that many of you are going to bars and pubs to play trivia. Apparently trivia games are all the rage right now. And I’m disappointed that you haven’t invited me because I need to say that my mind is full of completely useless trivial facts. I will confess that my expertise is fairly narrow. I won’t be much good to you in areas like art, literature, and science. But if you need someone on your team who can answer a question like: “Who did the St. Louis Cardinals trade Steve Carlton for in 1972?”—I’m your guy. I’m a little embarrassed to admit that I once won a sweatshirt because I knew the answer to that question.
Something is happening in our world right now and the popularity of trivia games is just a tiny indicator of it. People know far more and are learning at a much faster rate than at any time in history. The advent of the computer and Internet has hastened our capacity to accumulate data. Globalization means we are becoming aware of cultures and practices that generations before us had no idea about. Scientific advances put us on the brink of unlocking the secrets behind deadly diseases. We live in a golden age of knowledge that has the promise to solve some of our most vexing problems.
But let me ask a question. If we know so much, if we are such a highly educated group of people, why are we so dissatisfied? I mean, some of the young people in this church are taking every honors course they offer in school, and many of the adults at Pullen have advanced degrees, but are we any happier because of these things? What is missing from our lives that can’t be found in a Google search?
It would be presumptuous for me to suggest that the answer to that question is simple. Indeed, some of you may be perfectly satisfied and happy with your life. The only thing you may be looking for on Google is information about the closest trivia game. But for the rest of us, for those who recognize this dichotomy between what we know and the quality of our lives, I want to posit a theory. Actually, it’s not my theory at all. It’s as old as the Wisdom Literature of the Bible, and even though theories that old may make us skeptical, I ask you to give this one some consideration.
In Proverbs 9 we hear these words:
Wisdom has built her house,
she has hewn her seven pillars…
She has sent out her servant-girls, she calls
from the highest places in the town,
‘You that are simple, turn in here!’
To those without sense 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.’
The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom,
and the knowledge of the Holy One is insight. (verses 1, 3-6, 10)
Before I get to this ancient theory, let me point out something interesting in this text on Wisdom. Wisdom is referred to as “she” because in the Bible Wisdom is described as the feminine manifestation of the divine. She is present in the very creation of the world. For those who think feminist theology is just liberal hogwash they need to read their Bibles more closely. God is as much female as male, according to the scriptures, and her name is Wisdom.
So, Proverbs 9 says Wisdom has built a house and she is calling us to come inside and receive insight. She isn’t offering a quality education. She isn’t selling an all-inclusive life experience that will thrill and delight us. The theory she is putting forth is that the meaningful life, the full life, is the life that embraces her. Wisdom, not knowledge, can show us the way we long for.
And the truth is this theory is a tough sell for us because it flies in the face of everything we base our lives on. We understand that the accumulation of knowledge is what leads to gainful employment. And without a good job how do we have a decent life? So from the earliest of ages we focus on learning those things that will push us forward. What do I need to know to please my parents and teachers? What do I need to know to get a good SAT score? What do I need to know to get a promotion at work?
But what happens if we answer every one of those questions, end up with the life we were hoping for, and still lie awake at night with a knot in our stomach? What if we have an earned doctorate, or run our own company, or can even solve the Sudoku puzzle in the paper, but we keep failing at our relationships? At some point we have to be honest with ourselves and say that even though we know a lot, and that knowledge has many benefits, it’s not enough. We need something more. We need to be reintroduced to Wisdom.
So, what does that mean? Where would we begin in our search for this life that is guided as much by Wisdom as knowledge? The proverb says, “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of Wisdom.” This verse immediately brings to mind the old theology that says we are “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God” (Jonathan Edwards’s sermon title from the eighteenth century) and should quake and fear before the Almighty. But Paul Tillich reminds us that this first step toward Wisdom, the fear of the Lord, doesn’t mean we should be afraid of God. If anything, being afraid would lead us away from Wisdom not towards her. What the verse means is that there “cannot be wisdom without an encounter with the holy, with that which creates awe, and shakes the ordinary way of life and thought. Without the experience of awe in the face of the mystery of life, there is no wisdom. Most removed from wisdom are not those who are driven by desire for pleasure or power, but those brilliant minds who have never encountered the holy, who are without awe and know nothing sacred, but who are able to conceal their ultimate emptiness by the brilliant performances of their intellect.” (Paul Tillich, The Eternal Now, Chapter 15: “On Knowledge”)
Does this sound like you? I think it sounds like me on many days. I am regularly trying to hide my emptiness with what I know and what I do. There is precious little awe in my life, and even though I work in the church it doesn’t mean I am encountering the sacred on a regular basis. Indeed, many ministers will tell you that working in a religious institution is the fastest way to undermine your sense of awe. And I know in my heart that I need to put myself in places where a sense of sacred mystery can capture me. Whether it’s in church, or walking in nature, or sitting at the symphony we all need to find those places that move us beyond our intellect into the strange world of the Holy Other. And when we encounter that sense of awe, according to the proverb, we have made the first step toward Wisdom.
But how would we know if this is working? What indication would there be that we have heard her call and moved from a life based solely on knowledge to a life rooted in Wisdom? Well, it’s simple really. When we have an experience of awe we are suddenly aware of our limits. And the “acceptance of one’s limits is the decisive step towards wisdom. Fools rebel against the limits set by their finitude. They want to be unlimited in power and knowledge. Those who are wise accept their finitude. They know that they are not God.” (Tillich, The Eternal Now) This is why we are more likely to gain in wisdom in our failures rather than our victories. Being forced to face what will not be in our lives sabotages that idolatry that says we can make anything happen and have whatever we desire. We can’t. We never could. We are not God and the faster we learn that the wiser we will be.
I have had two very different experiences related to my sense of calling into the ministry. The first one came in high school when after a period of searching I made an emotional and exciting decision to become a minister at a youth camp. From that point forward I began to plan and prepare for a life spent in the church. Yet, when I was a senior in college, I actually began to fulfill that calling as I served as the pastor of a small, rural congregation. And what happened over the next year was not at all what I expected. I was overwhelmed by the responsibilities and burdens of being a minister. Every limitation I had felt exposed. To say I didn’t feel up to the challenge would be a huge understatement. And about four months before I was supposed to finish my service in that church, I simply had to stop. I broke and couldn’t do it for another Sunday. There was shame in that decision. There was a sense of failure. And I was confused because I had tried so very hard to follow God’s calling.
Now, twenty years later, both of those experiences continue to inform my life. It feels good to remember that night in high school at the Paisano Baptist Encampment when I felt God calling me into the ministry. That mountaintop moment is such a grace-filled memory. But I will tell you the truth. My life as a minister has been shaped far more by the failure of my first pastorate than by that wonderful night. In the valley of my defeat I was stripped bare and I realized my limitations. I could no longer live with the easy assumptions of what ministry would be like and how successful I was bound to be. I knew after that I would never be able to sail by in this job based on my knowledge and gifts. It was terribly humbling, but in the lowliness of my humility I was introduced to a side of God I had been missing. And her name was Wisdom.
We live in a generation that is more knowledgeable than any before it, and there is much that is good about that. Still, our over-reliance on our knowledge has turned us into addicts. We are hooked on what we know and what we can learn, and we may not even realize there is a yearning that goes unfulfilled in us. Wisdom knows the way to a deeper life. She calls us to regular encounters with the sacred so that we might learn who we are and who we are not. And when we know the difference, when we know our limits, it will be the surest sign that we have entered the house that Wisdom built. And there is nothing trivial about that.
I am indebted to Paul
Tillich’s thoughts on wisdom in The Eternal Now that greatly influenced this sermon.