Second Sunday after Trinity
June 10, 2018
Trinity Lutheran Church—New Haven, MO
1Wisdom has built her house.
She has carved out her seven pillars.
2 She has butchered her meat, mixed her wine,
and spread her table.
3 She has sent away her maids
and calls from the highest spots in the city:
4 “If you’re untaught, turn in here.”
If you don’t have understanding, she tells you,
5 “Come, eat my bread,
and drink the wine I mix.
6 Leave ignorant people and begin to live;
walk the road that leads to understanding.”
7 If you correct a scoffer, you get insulted.
If you criticize a wicked person, you get hurt.
8 Don’t correct a scoffer or he will hate you;
correct a wise person and he will love you.
9 Give advice to a wise person and he’ll be wiser still.
Teach a righteous man and he will learn more.
10 The fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom;
knowledge of the Holy One is understanding.
In the name of + Jesus
There is a figure of speech called anthropomorphism. It’s when non-human things are given human attributes. For instance, the animals in Animal Farm are anthropomorphic, because they speak and hold meetings and things of that nature, and Rocket Raccoon and Groot in Guardians of the Galaxy are both anthropomorphic characters—a raccoon and a tree that function as humans. (Anthropos means “man,” or, “human” in Greek). But inanimate things can also be anthropomorphic, too. You can say that the fingers of the Mississippi River reach down into the Gulf of Mexico through the Mississippi Delta.
Anthropomorphism can also be used to speak of God. We use this figure of speech every week when we confess that Jesus ascended into heaven, and sitteth on the right hand of God the Father Almighty. God is spirit, so He doesn’t literally have a right hand like each of you have. Rather, it’s to indicate the place of favor and authority. Similarly, we use language like “every word that proceeds from the mouth of God,” but God doesn’t have a mouth filled with teeth and surrounded with a beard, no matter what Michelangelo may have painted on the Sistine Chapel ceiling.
The first verses of Proverbs 9 looks to be an anthropomorphism, attributing to wisdom the activities of building a house, preparing a feast, inviting guests. But this wisdom literature goes beyond an anthropomorphic figure of speech. Wisdom here is not an inanimate object, or an idea, with human attributes ascribed to it. Rather, Wisdom—capital W—is a name for God. This is Wisdom incarnate, God incarnate. Jesus Christ. These proverbs are simply another way of telling the parable that Jesus tells in today’s Gospel.
Parabolically in the Gospel, and proverbially in the Old Testament, God is telling us that in Christ He is setting up a household, preparing a feast, and giving us the invitation to join Him in fellowship. But the wisdom of Wisdom incarnate is not like the wisdom of the world.
Who gets the invitation? It’s not the rich, connected, well-to-do. In the parable, it’s the poor, crippled, blind, and lame. And the vagabonds that live out on the fringes. The “respectable” citizens have all rejected the invitation because, they can set a feast on their own, thank you very much.
And, similarly, when Wisdom prepares her feast, it’s not the wise who get the invitation. Wisdom has built her house. She has carved out her seven pillars. She has butchered her meat, mixed her wine, and spread her table. She has sent away her maids and calls from the highest spots in the city: “If you’re untaught, turn in here.” If you don’t have understanding, she tells you, “Come, eat my bread, and drink the wine I mix. Leave ignorant people and begin to live; walk the road that leads to understanding.”
There is some more proverbial wisdom that falls out of the nature of Wisdom incarnate. If you correct a scoffer, you get insulted. If you criticize a wicked person, you get hurt. Don’t correct a scoffer or he will hate you; correct a wise person and he will love you. Give advice to a wise person and he’ll be wiser still. Teach a righteous man and he will learn more.
There is some real wisdom here. Practical wisdom. If you try to correct a fool, who is committed to his foolishness, how will he react? He will insult you. He will try to hurt you. Not physically, usually, but he’ll try to hurt your reputation. That’s what an ad hominem fallacy is. It means, “against the person.” Fools who have no ground on which to stand must resort to insults and injury to reputation in order to win their argument. An ad hominem fallacy goes something like this.
Fool: “Abortion should be a woman’s choice, so she can have full reproductive equality.”
You: “Abortion takes the life of a child, even though it’s in its earliest stages of development. Abortion is not about choice, because the child never gets a choice.”
Fool: “You’re a Christian, and Christians have slaughtered thousands in the name of their religion, and so you can’t say anything about abortion.”
Notice how the fool does not engage in the argument, but tries to win by insult and injury. The fool must discredit his corrector because his position is foolish. So, if you’re wise, you won’t even engage in correcting a fool. It’s frivolous and self-defeating. You can’t convince someone who is unashamedly and uncritically committed to their own foolish errors.
The proverb puts you in the place of corrector, but there’s also the obverse, where you are the one being corrected. Here’s something for your self-examination: how do you react when you’re being corrected? Is your immediate reaction to lash out with an insult, to tell your corrector how he or she is wrong, to try to discredit your opponent? Do you come to hate when people correct you? Or do you love it? Don’t correct a scoffer or he will hate you; correct a wise person and he will love you.
Wise people welcome correction. It’s how you learn. Give advice to a wise person and he’ll be wiser still. Teach a righteous man and he will learn more. Even if your corrector is not completely right (and no corrector is completely right, even if it’s you doing the correcting), there is still an opportunity to learn and grow. Because very few correctors are also completely wrong. This is something I’ve come to appreciate in recent years, how to learn from people who are wrong.
Fools become more foolish, but wise become wiser still. But the question still remains: how do you become wise in the first place? All of us are more or less foolish, and we react badly to correction. Where does wisdom begin? The fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom; knowledge of the Holy One is understanding.
Imagine the poor, crippled, blind, and lame coming up to the king’s feast. Imagine the vagabonds knocking on that door. Is there not a little fear? Imagine the novice disciple sitting at the feet of the master philosopher for the first time. Is there not a little fear? Fear here corresponds to humility. This is the way to approach God. And when you sit at the feast prepared by Wisdom, you gain access to a wisdom that exceeds all wisdom, a knowledge that exceeds all knowledge, and understanding that exceeds all understanding. You come to know the Lord and the Holy One in and through Jesus Christ. And the fear evaporates into wisdom of your own. Because,
Wisdom Is the End of the Fear of the Lord
In the name of + Jesus
Jacob W Ehrhard