“When I was a boy of fourteen,” says Mark Twain, “my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be twenty-one, I was astonished at how much he had learned in seven years.”
Ah, the wisdom of parents. Eugene Peterson rewords a portion of this morning’s text this way: “Pay close attention, friend, to what your father tells you, never forget what you learned at your mother’s knee. Wear their counsel like flowers in your hair, like rings on your fingers.” It’s a great image.
Though admittedly some may find it has flaws.For instance, what if your parents weren’t there for you when you were a child? Or what if their advice was less than helpful? What if the biggest lesson you learned from mom and dad was “do as I say, not as I do”? If it takes a village to raise a child, we recognize in certain cases that the rest of the village has contributed rather more than the parents themselves. But I’ll bet we can each remember someone who taught us the ropes, someone who helped us learn to navigate life when we were young. So if it wasn’t your parents, I invite you to call to mind this morning a person at or two whose knee you were offered wisdom. If they were God-fearing men and women, if they did their best to model justice and fairness in their lives, if they demonstrated understanding and insight and discernment—then they are precisely the kinds of people Proverbs would have you think of when it urges you to “wear their counsel like flowers in your hair, like rings on your fingers.”
I was fortunate as a child – and still am – to have parents who are a tremendous source of good advice. Among other family lessons I’ve taken to heart: “First you have to decide what you want, then you can figure out how to get it.” There are a couple I lean on in busy, stressful times, too, like “when all else fails, lower your standards” and “if not triumphantly, then somehow.” And then of course there’s the perennial favorite before leaving on long car trips
with small children: “always stop before you go!”
A proverb has been defined as “a maximum of meaning in a minimum of words.” And many of the biblical proverbs seem to have originated at home, in families and clans. You hear these little tidbits of advice and sense that they were passed along through the generations, father to son, grandma to grandkids. Over the dinner table, in the marketplace, around the campfire at night.
You know the type. “A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.” “Money can’t buy you happiness.” “Never order spaghetti on a first date.”
It’s great fun, by the way, to discover a cross-cultural proverb or two along the way, since of course there are parents and grandparents in every region of the world, passing their wisdom along. I imagine there is a subset of family wisdom that varies widely from Alabama to Hawaii and from Vermont to California. Not to mention international variations. Here’s an African proverb I ran across once, one I can just imagine a no-nonsense mama saying to her ambitious kid: “The higher the ape climbs, the more he shows his tail.”
Ah, the wisdom of parents . . . Still, what does it mean to elevate this kind of wisdom to the level to which it’s been raised here in Proverbs? I can’t get this across without a little Hebrew lesson, but the word translated ‘instruction’ in ‘hear, my child, your father’s instruction’ is mitzvah, or commandment. And the word translated ‘teaching’ in the phrase ‘your mother’s teaching’ is actually the word torah, more often translated law with a capital L. What’s going on here? Sure these are all helpful lessons, but as Barbara Brown Taylor puts it, “where is God, exactly” in advice like “always wear clean underwear?”
The biblical Proverbs are a mixed bag in this regard, too. Interspersed with those profound lines we read a couple of weeks ago about the fear of the Lord being the beginning of wisdom (Prov 1:7), are lines like these: “Better is a dry morsel with quiet than a house full of feasting with strife.” (Prov 17:1) “Gray hair is a crown of glory; it is gained in a righteous life.” (Prov 16:31) And one of my personal favorites: “Even fools who keep silent are considered wise; when they close their lips, they are deemed intelligent.” (Prov 17:28). You know, there’s another version of that one floating around outside the Bible: “It’s better to keep your mouth shut and appear [ignorant] than to open it and remove all doubt.”
The earthy sayings really pile up around Proverbs 26-27.
“As a door turns on its hinges, so does a lazy person in bed.” (Prov 26:4)
“Like somebody who takes a passing dog by the ears is someone who meddles in the quarrel of another.” (Prov 26:17)
“The sated appetite spurns honey, but to a ravenous appetite, even the bitter is sweet.” (27:7)
And how about this one: “Whoever blesses a neighbor with a loud voice, rising early in the morning, will be counted as cursing.” (Prov 27:14)
(Amazingly enough, this, too is the Word of the Lord . . . )
If you’ve ever feared the Bible has its head in the clouds, Proverbs may be just the book for you. But whether these kinds of sayings strike you as deeply insightful thoughts, or simply as an indication that the sages had a good sense of humor, you might well wonder what this kind of thing is doing in the pages of Scripture. These Proverbs “sound more like good sense than good faith.”
I mean, elsewhere in the Old Testament we read of the salvation history of the people of Israel, the mighty acts of God on their behalf, we read of the gift of the law, the Torah, at Mt. Sinai, we read the words of prophets and priests and kings. In the gospels we read about the life of Jesus, his miracles, his parables, his death and resurrection. The apostle Paul treats the great fundamentals of Christian doctrine in his letters. And the book of Revelation is about cosmic battles between the forces of good and evil.
When we turn to the book of Proverbs, we suddenly find ourselves reading about table manners. About financial planning. About how to act around your boss. About how kids should behave toward their parents and how parents should treat their kids. “There is nothing particularly religious about a lot of Proverbs.” So it becomes clear right away that if this book is going to teach us something about God and how we are to live as God’s people, it’s going to do so in a radically different way from the rest of the Bible.
Again, one of the great contributions of biblical wisdom is the importance it places on human experience. That’s part of what makes the wisdom books so fresh and relevant even in a 21st century setting. Sure, some of the advice is dated – the wisdom teachers loved to go on about the dangers of chasing after loose women, for instance; that’s their favorite illustration of foolishness. And they certainly favored forms of parental discipline for children we’d never be comfortable with today. But many of their words are remarkably easy to translate into new settings because they are based in life experience, gleaned from the pooled wisdom of real men and women living in the real world. And in some instances, their words require no translation at all – we hear them and immediately nod our heads: yes, life is like that.
What a gift to find this stuff in our Bibles! What fantastic news it is that God cares not only about the grand sweep of cosmic history but about all those normal, everyday things in our normal, everyday lives. Jesus modeled it too, didn’t he? Solving a catering crisis for an unnamed couple getting married in a little town called Cana. Interrupting all those big important jobs of healing bodies and souls and teaching crowds of thousands to hoist a few kids up on his lap.
We have a God who is bigger, wiser, more powerful than our minds can comprehend and who cares when our dad is sick, when our kid is nervous about the first day of school, when we’re facing a tough deadline at work. We have a God under whose watchful eye mountains and oceans and whole galaxies have come into being, and whose joyous laughter can be almost audible when we arrive at a long awaited graduation, or celebrate a birthday with a bunch of good friends, or appreciate the first time our baby sleeps through the night. That’s what Emmanuel, God with us, is all about. In addition to the fact that God is here, always and everywhere, God’s also ‘been there’. I imagine God-in-Christ whacked his thumb with a hammer while working with his dad in the carpentry shop, we know he went to parties with his buddies, and watched his best friend get sick and die, and I feel certain he learned plenty of good sense at his own mama’s knee.
What are all these earthy sayings doing in our Bibles? They are there because “good sense” and “good faith” aren’t mutually exclusive. They are there because God cares about our everyday lives, and it matters how we live them. They are there because in the real world, where the rubber of our theology hits the road, we need wisdom that’s as concrete and practical as it is inspiring.
I don’t know about you, but on the average day, I’m not usually faced with a sea that needs parting. Most days I don’t wake up expecting to deliver an oracle from God to a king, or suit up in shining white armor for an all-out battle against the guys in the black hats. But I might very well be faced with a situation at home or at work in which some good old fashioned proverbial wisdom might be just what I need. Sometimes I find it in the pages of the Bible, sometimes it comes in an email from my mom, or a text from my dad. Proverbs reminds us it can be equally God-given either way.
What fantastic news it is that God cares not only about the grand sweep of cosmic history but about all those normal, everyday things in our normal, everyday lives. God-with-us in an extraordinarily ordinary way. Amen.
 In The Wit and Wisdom of Mark Twain, edited by Alex Ayres (New York, NY: Meridian, 1987), p.75.
 Twain’s definition of a maxim in The Wit and Wisdom of Mark Twain, p. 147.
 Barbara Brown Taylor, sermon on Proverbs 31 at Plymouth Congregational Church in Seattle, Washington. September 24, 2000.
 Attributed both to Mark Twain and to Abraham Lincoln, according to Ayres, The Wit and Wisdom of Mark Twain, p. 5.
 Taylor, 9-24-00 sermon.
 Taylor, 9-24-00 sermon.
Sermon by Rev. Deborah Hannay Sunoo
We’re starting a new sermon series today. Over the course of the next few months, we'll be looking at three books in the OT or Hebrew Bible which are classified as Wisdom books: Proverbs, Job, and Ecclesiastes, talking not only about what these books share in common, but also about the unique perspective offered by each.
It’s among my favorite parts of the Bible, but interestingly, biblical Wisdom Literature is not often preached in the average church, perhaps because it stands out in such sharp contrast to the rest of the Scriptures. Wisdom has been called an "orphan" in the canon (Crenshaw), something "alien" to the rest of the Scriptures" (Gese). It has been said that if the rest of the Bible is sacred, wisdom is secular. In one of its more memorable slams, it has even been argued that wisdom literature is "devoid of revelatory content, paganism pure and simple." (Now if that doesn't make you want to go out and read these books, I don't know what will!)
Why use terms such as secular or pagan to describe this portion of the Bible? Simply because many of the more common biblical themes and theologies are absent here. Instead of divine rewards and punishments, wisdom literature spends a lot of time discussing life in the human sphere, maintaining that human actions have human consequences, that we generally reap what we sow. Instead of focusing in particular on the chosen people of Israel, wisdom has a more international flavor. There are many similarities between, for instance, the biblical books of Proverbs and Job and wisdom literature from elsewhere in the Ancient Near East, particularly the literature of Egypt. And while wisdom is not ethnocentric, focused on one particular nation or culture, it is highly anthropocentric--that is, it focuses on human wisdom, human knowledge, the place of humanity in the created order. All of this is strikingly different from much of the rest of the Hebrew Bible, or Old Testament.
But it is precisely the kinds of traits about Wisdom Literature which have sometimes led it to be considered a kind of lesser cousin to other biblical books that can actually make it so fresh and relevant. Wisdom is the epitome of practical theology. It's down to earth. If the ten commandments, the law given by God at Sinai, is wisdom from above, then the books of Proverbs, Job, and Ecclesiastes offer wisdom from below. Human experience, human knowledge, human observation are highly esteemed in Wisdom Literature. So while in the ten commandments, for instance, the dominant notes you’d hear would be "thou shalts" and "thus says the Lords," in the wisdom books we find elders, parents, teachers speaking to their children and students about what they've observed about the world, sharing what they've learned through their own life experience.
Wisdom literature is also in some ways the easiest to translate for those outside the culture of the church. Perhaps more than any other portion of the Old Testament, it is a helpful basis for ecumenical and interfaith dialogue because its focus is less narrowly Israelite. It repeatedly identifies God as Creator of the whole world and is fascinated with all aspects of the created order. It wrestles deeply with universal human questions about the goodness of God in the face of suffering, questions to which we will return in subsequent weeks when we focus on the books of Job and Ecclesiastes. And wisdom literature also deals with other more mundane subjects that we all share in common: how to get along on the job, how to raise our kids, how to respect our parents.
That Proverbs in particular is a practical book is without question, and we’ll see ample evidence of this over the next few weeks. What has not always been appreciated is how deeply theological it is as well--thus all the worry about it being pagan and secular. But in the midst of warnings about peer pressure and instructions for how to behave around court officials is quite a lot of God-talk.
For in Proverbs wisdom isn’t just another word for smarts. Biblical wisdom has as its starting point, its goal, its whole orientation, the fear of the Lord. We just read it– “the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.” It’s a saying that’s turns up quite a lot in Proverbs. “The fear of the Lord is not the fear of imminent punishment,” mind you, but an acknowledgement that God is the source of all things – including all the insights that guide the community. It’s a reminder that for all its down-to-earth practicality the wisdom tradition remains deeply rooted in faith. It’s a reminder that human understanding is limited. It’s a reminder that wisdom is never possible apart from God.
In other words, true wisdom both assumes and requires worship of the living God. And to place that above all else is to be about as consistent with biblical theology as we can be. God as our number one priority. God’s grace and love surpassing every other great, good thing in our lives. Our desire to glorify God being our “chief end” in this world. Insofar as Wisdom is defined as knowing our place before God, understanding God’s power, recognizing God at work in the world—in other words, as the fear of the Lord—then we’re right on target. Nothing we desire could possibly compare with that.
What a healthy reminder. For certainly there are practices in the church that are not consciously theological. And there can be theology which is not particularly practical. But at our best, we should attempt to balance the two. The Wisdom literature of the Hebrew Bible reminds us that our faith is not only about transcendent, other-worldly things, but is also about the practical issues of daily church life. The biblical record not only passes on to us the great events of salvation history but also relates quite directly to this world, to the kinds of issues we deal with everyday. And so the announcements we hear on Sunday mornings, the business addressed in our committees, the content of youth group discussions and congregational meetings--all of this can be understood to be practical theology, the working out of wisdom we've learned from the pages of Scripture, from our elders and parents, and from our own life experience as people of God.
After all, as we page through a church newsletter, sit in on a church meeting, or even carry on conversations at coffee hour, we can see "where the rubber of the church's theology hits the road." (Tom Long)
That even the most practical church matters have value is part of what it means to affirm that the Word became flesh. "The conviction that God refused to float in sublime isolation above time and space, but became Jesus Christ, flesh and blood, sweat and earth, is the doctrine of the incarnation, and what it means, among other things, is that we do not escape the mundane to encounter the living God. Indeed, . . . it is. . .the 'fleshy' details of life, the working and the serving, the community projects and the committee meetings, the being born, the marrying, and the dying, which are the arenas for our encounter with the God-become-flesh in Jesus Christ." (Tom Long)
Even at our most practical, the book of Proverbs reminds us, we can also be deeply theological. For God is with us, not only in our crisis moments and in our times of greatest joy, but also in the most ordinary places and in the most unremarkable moments of our lives. Our faith, like the wisdom of the Old Testament sages, is concrete, real, and practical. In our most routine actions, we can demonstrate that the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom. In our most ordinary tasks we can proclaim the profound truth that God is with us, Emmanuel. Amen.
 Alyce M. McKenzie, “The Character of Preachers,” Journal for Preachers (Pentecost 2001), p. 22.