Prov. 1:20-33 or Isa. 50:4-9a
Ps. 19 or Wis. 7:26-8:1 or Ps. 116:1-8
James 3:1-12
Mark 8:27-38

Ask any teacher. Students who hate knowledge and spurn correction travel toward their own destruction. There are, of course, exceptions, those who would not or cannot learn in classrooms, but otherwise hear the voice of wisdom sub divo — in the street, the crowded byways, the halls of urban business, the radiance of sun and disposition of constellations, the renewal of all things (Prov. 1:20-33; Wis. 7:29). Whether Wisdom is sought in school or discerned in the counsels of civic deliberation or espied in the mysteries of nature, she shows herself a flawless mirror of God’s activity. The heavens declare the glory of God. Wisdom enlightens holy souls. Ignoring her is destruction and ruin.

Let teachers be warned. “Those who teach will receive the greater judgment” (James 3:1). For every teacher must employ the tongue, “a restless evil full of deadly poison” (James 3:8). At every moment the tongue must be governed and directed to a single task: the exposition of Wisdom. The teacher will work and pray and speak, helping students to see “that no certain end could ever be attained, unless the actions whereby it is attained were regular; that is to say, made suitable, fit and correspondent unto their end, by some canon, rule, or law. Which thing doth first take place in the works even of God himself” (Richard Hooker). The teacher will often say, “Look!” The student will often wonder. Together they will discern “an image of divine goodness.” Together they will see that Wisdom accomplishes everything by some canon, rule, or law. Together they will see that order and beauty have kissed each other.

The wisdom and power of God has appeared in our midst bearing the solemn name of Jesus Christ our Lord. This is the same wisdom at the heart of things. “He is the beginning and the end, the Alpha and the Omega, the king of a new world, the ancient and supreme reason for all human history and our personal lot, a bridge between heaven and earth” (Pope Paul VI, Nov. 29, 1970). Thus, the one who appears as a human person is ever the divine person through whom all things were made and without whom nothing was made. I lift up my eyes to the hills and I see Jesus. In the valley of the shadow of death, thou art with me. The morning sun summons a thousand Alleluias. “Every ant that I see asks me, where had I this providence and industry? Every flower that I see asks me, where had I this beauty, this fragrancy, this medicinal virtue? Every creature calls me to consider what great things God has done in little subjects” (John Donne, 1630).

All this is contracted and revealed in Jesus. No one has ever seen God. He who is in the bosom of the Father has made him known (exegesis). At one moment — at this very moment — the Word turns toward you and says, “Who do you say that I am?” Be assured he issues not only the question, but supplies the answer as well. When “Tu es Christus” rolls off your tongue, God will have done a wonder with your most unruly member. “Anyone who makes no mistakes in speaking is perfect” (James 3:2). Be perfect, therefore, saying these words. Or, rather, let God say them in you: “Tu es Christus!” Having said them, observe how the Church grows. “For upon this which you have said: Tu es Christus Filius Dei vivi, I will build my church” (St. Augustine, Sermo 295).

Look It Up
Read John 1:1-18: Pantocrator.

Think About It
Whether dividing the world through investigation or seeing it whole through contemplation, we behold the One who is, was, and ever shall be.

Prov. 22:1-2, 8-9, 22-23 or Isa. 35:4-7a
Ps. 125 or Ps. 146
James 2:1-10 [11-13], 14-17
Mark 7:24-37

Sometimes an ethical injunction that may seem obvious to our present sentiment has been passed down precisely because it was once far from obvious. If we are honest with ourselves, it is not always treated as obvious today. Here is the saying: “Do not rob the poor because they are poor, or crush the afflicted at the gate” (Prov. 22:22).

In many cultures and throughout human history, there has been a widespread valorization of power and wealth, supported by a system of often explicit violence. In such a view, power, strength, and wealth are signs of providential favor. Conversely, weakness, illness, disability, poverty, and all the afflictions that may beset a person were seen as evidence that divine protection had been withdrawn. Do we not still ask ourselves, as Jesus was asked so long ago, “Why was this man born blind?” and carry within a grim and soul-crushing answer? He is blind because he deserves to be blind. He has sinned, or perhaps his parents sinned. One way or another, the fault rests with the anguished. If the afflicted deserve their sorrow, adding to it by meanness of spirit, ridicule, rejection, and bullying is, in a sense, to join in the cause of the gods.

Commenting on his years of researching and writing about Roman and Greek antiquity, popular historian Tom Holland tells how he became increasingly uncomfortable, sensing that that he was imaginatively living in a world he could no longer recognize as his own. In his words, “It was not just the extremes of callousness that unsettled me, but the complete lack of any sense that the poor or the weak might have the slightest intrinsic value” (Dominion, p. 16). Again, for so long, it was assumed that the poor, the weak, and the disabled were fair game for exploitation and vitriolic cruelty, and even death.

Everything changed when a Jew named Jesus of Nazareth turned the world upside down. All the distinctions about who is rightly fortunate and who is not melted away in his presence.

While in the region of Tyre, Jesus is approached by a Gentile woman of Syrophoenician origin. She begs him to heal her daughter. There are, of course, social and religious norms to impede that from happening. Jesus should not speak with this woman; he should have nothing to do with a foreigner. And yet Jesus and the woman engage in a kind of banter that, at first, presumes this view. He should not cast the children’s bread before dogs. For her part, she insists that “even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs” (Mark 7:27-28). Impressed by her wit, her insistence, and her perseverance, Jesus says, “For saying that, you may go—the demon has left your daughter” (Mark 7:29). In the region of the Decapolis, also in Gentile territory, Jesus heals a deaf man. In each case, he responds with compassion to the foreigner, the sick, the suffering — precisely those who were regarded for so long as without inherent worth.

St. James, drawing from the implications of Jesus’ ministry, says, “Listen, my brothers and sisters. Has not God chosen the poor in the world to be rich in faith and to be heirs of the kingdom that he promised to those who love him?” In Jesus Christ, God gives justice to those who are oppressed, food to those who hunger, sets the prisoner free, opens the eyes of the blind, lifts up the lowly, cares for the stranger, sustains the orphan and widow (Ps. 146:6-8). These are the forgotten of the world.

I understand Jesus as saying, “Do not abuse the poor, or put a stumbling block before the blind” because they are children of the Almighty. “Harm them, and you are harming me.”

Thus, Jesus opened the door to a new world.

Look It Up: James 2:4

Think About It: Making no distinction, Jesus is everywhere among everyone.

Song 2:8-13 or Deut. 4:1-2, 6-9
Ps. 45:1-2, 7-10 or Ps. 15
James 1:17-27
Mark 7:1-8, 14-15, 21-23

Building and maintaining bonds of goodwill and peace is a perennial Christian practice. We will never, in this life, arrive at the point that vigilance may be set aside. In the appointed Collect, we pray, “Graft in our hearts the love of your Name; increase in us true religion; nourish us with all goodness; and bring forth in us the fruit of good works.” Of the many fruits of the Spirit, perhaps nothing is more important than unity, peace, and bonds of love. In the important quest to hold the body of Christ together, we must, with prudence and knowledge, and the assistance of the Spirit, discern what ought to be done. What do I owe my neighbor? Perhaps even more important is a keen awareness of those things we should refrain from doing. Strangely, we can do a lot of good by what we don’t do.

St. James advises, “You must understand this, my beloved: let everyone be quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger; for your anger does not produce God’s righteousness. Therefore rid yourselves of all sordidness and rank growth of wickedness” (1:19-21a). He adds, “If any think they are religious, and do not bridle their tongues but deceive their hearts, their religion is worthless. Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to care for orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world” (1:26-27).

Just as there are things to do, there are things we should not do. Do not speak too quickly, do not be given to fits of anger, do not pursue what is sordid or wicked. Jesus mentions evil intentions arising from a deviled human heart: “fornication, theft, murder, adultery, avarice, wickedness, deceit, licentiousness, envy, slander, pride, folly” (Mark 7:21-22). Again, we have a list largely of prohibitions because certain actions are profoundly damaging to human community. If “the human heart is devious above all else,” what hope do we have of thwarting those thoughts and actions that are the ruination of all love and peace?

We need a new heart. “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and put a new and right spirit within me” (Ps. 51:11). This renewal begins with the Advent of Christ and the dispensation of the Spirit of love. God changes our hearts by a divine love of profound intensity, a love that makes us new beings. Imagine Christ coming to us as the One who loves, the One who comes at just the right time, the time of renewal and fragrant beauty.

Imagine that Christ comes as your beloved. “Look, he comes, leaping upon the mountains, bounding over the hills” (Song 2:8). He comes not only willingly but joyfully. “My beloved is like a gazelle or a young stag” (2:9). Christ makes speed to save you, moving with an agile step. “There he stands behind our wall, gazing in at the widows, looking through the lattice” (2:9). Christ is courtly, looking through the door of the heart to evoke a free and willing reply. Then he tells you the hour is at hand. “Arise my love, my fair one, and come away; for now the winter is past, the rain is over and gone. The flowers appear on the earth; the time of singing has come, and the voice of the turtle dove is heard in our land. The fig puts forth its figs, and the vines are in blossom; they give forth fragrance. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away” (Song 2:10-13).

Who would have expected so ravishing a love? Touched by this love, we discover in ourselves a clean heart and a right spirit. In this way, we become light and salt; we emanate peace and concord.

Look It Up: Psalm 45:9

Think About It: The time is right (fragrant), and so your very life becomes fragrant with myrrh, aloes, and cassia. The music of love makes you glad.

1 Kgs. 8:[1,6, 10-11], 22-30, 41-43 or Josh. 24:1-2a, 14-18
Ps. 84 or Ps. 34:15-22
Eph. 6:10-20
John 6:56-69

The Roman poet Virgil tells a contracted version of the founding of Rome in the opening lines of his great epic. “I sing of arms and the man, who first from the shores of Troy, buffeted about by fate, came to Italy and the Livinian shores, that one tossed among lands and sea by the powers of above, on account of the brooding anger of severe Juno, having suffered much in war, until he founded a city and carried his gods to Latium; whence rose the Latin race, the fathers of Alba and the high walls of Rome.” Fleeing the burning city of Troy, Aeneas carries his father on his back, takes the hand of his young son and, during his escape and the turmoil of war, is separated from his wife, whom he never sees again. With the gods of his ancestors in hand, Aeneas heads out to the shore and upon the open water.

You might say that we are summoned to leave the burning cities of this world — the evil powers of this world that corrupt and destroy the creatures of God — and to set out for the City of God, and we do so in a ship, which is the Church. We must, in a sense, go and go in haste, but unlike Aeneas, we are strictly forbidden to take our household gods. Our patriarch, Abraham, left everything and all other gods in pursuit of the one true God. “Now the Lord said to Abram, ‘Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to a land that I will show you. I will make you a great nation, and I will bless you and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and the one who curses you I will curse; and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed’” (Gen. 12:1-3). Abraham, by his obedience, learned this essential lesson. “I am the Lord your God … You shall have no other gods before me” (Ex. 20:2-3).

In practice, this uncompromising monotheism competed again and again with alien gods. The people thought of and, in a sense, hid in their hearts not only the gods of Mesopotamia but also the gods of the lands through which they traveled, even the gods they heard of once they entered the Promised Land. So, again and again, their commitment to the one true God required renewal and dedication.

Listen to Joshua addressing the people and note their reply. “Now therefore revere the Lord, and serve him in sincerity and in faithfulness; put away the gods that your ancestors served beyond the River and in Egypt, and serve the Lord. Now if you are unwilling to serve the Lord, choose this day whom you will serve, whether the gods your ancestors served in the region beyond the River or the gods of the Amorites in whose land you are living; but as for me and my household, we will serve the Lord.’ Then the people answered, ‘Far be it from us that we should forsake the Lord to serve other gods; for it is the Lord our God who brought us and our ancestors up from the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery, and who did those great signs in our sight. Therefore we also will serve the Lord, for he is our God’” (Josh. 24:14-17a, 18b). For a Christian, the place we journey to is the City of God, and the one God is revealed in the Lord Jesus Christ, to whom we owe all love and devotion. In the words of Simon Peter, “Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life” (John 6:68).

Look It Up: Ephesians 6:18

Think About It: Keep alert and persevere. Look to Christ and move toward him who is your life.

1 Kgs. 2:10-12; 3:3-14 or Prov. 9:1-6
Ps. 111 or Ps. 34:9-14
Eph. 5:15-20
John 6:51-58

Among the books of the Old Testament and in the Apocrypha, one finds a distinctive body of writing called Wisdom Literature. The primary books of this type are Ecclesiastes, Ecclesiasticus, Proverbs, Job, and the Wisdom of Solomon. There are many references to Wisdom in the New Testament. Jesus, for instance, is called the “Wisdom of God.” Wisdom has a range of meanings, all of which stress the intelligibility of the universe, the universe being wisely made, and the importance of practical skills for coping with life (that is, acting in a way that is proper to one’s individual duty and in accord with the common good).

If we were to ask, “How am I to understand the world?” Wisdom would reply, “Through study and contemplation.” If we were to ask, “What am I supposed to do with my life?” Wisdom would reply, “Cultivate a wise and discerning mind, and act with right judgment.” So, we are thinking of matters that are, in a sense, secular and very practical.

“Wisdom has built her house, she has hewn her seven pillars” (Prov. 9:1). Mysteriously, Wisdom is involved in the creation of the world. The world is, we might say, “her house.” Listen to this description of Wisdom’s work: “The Lord created me at the beginning of his work, the first of his acts long ago. Ages ago I was set up, at the first, before the beginning of the earth. When there were no depths I was brought forth, when there were no springs abounding with water. … When he established the heavens, I was there, when he drew the circle on the face of the deep, when he made firm the skies above, when he established the fountains of the deep, when he assigned to the sea its limit, so that the waters might not transgress his command, when he marked the foundations of the earth, then I was beside him, like a master worker; and I was daily his delight, rejoicing before him always, rejoicing in his inhabited world and delighting in the human race” (Prov. 8:22-24, 27-31). The affinity of this passage to the prologue of St. John’s gospel is obvious. “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being” (John 1:1-3).

What do we notice? The world is created, governed, and ordered, shot through and through with divine presence and purpose. In the close of the first creation account, we hear, “God saw everything that he had made, and indeed, it was very good” (Gen. 1:31). This means, at the very least, that we owe a contemplative devotion toward the created order as a revelation of God, and we are likewise summoned to study the world. “Great are the deeds of the Lord! they are studied by all who delight in them” (Ps. 111:2). In a sense, this worldview gives rise to contemplative attention and the investigation of the natural sciences.

Wisdom is also immensely practical, having to do with the conduct of one’s life. Admittedly, mores change over time and across cultures, but certain constants reappear. Solomon asks God for “an understanding mind” to govern the people. We must each govern at least our own lives. Scripture speaks often of the need to control our tongue. “Keep your tongue from evil-speaking and your lips from lying words. Turn from evil and do good, seek peace and pursue it. Wisdom teaches us to “lay aside immaturity” and to walk in the way of insight. Watch your tongue, turn from evil and do good, seek peace and pursue it. Live honorably and peaceably among your brothers and sisters.

Look It Up: Proverbs 9:5-6 and John 6:58

Think About It: The Eucharist makes you wise unto everlasting life.