Monday of the Seventh Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 341

To whom has wisdom's root been revealed?

Who knows her subtleties?

To whom has the discipline of wisdom been revealed?

And who has understood the multiplicity of her ways ?

There is but one, wise and truly awe-inspiring,

seated upon his throne:

There is but one, Most High

I recently watched a TED talk by a journalist on women's sexuality. The young writer mocked the doctors and professors of 19th and 20th medicine who examined women's bodies and discussed women's medical issues without asking women about their lore, knowledge or experience. If they permitted women to study and practice medicine it was only with reluctance.

There was a time, in the middle ages, when scholars admired the wisdom of the ancients. They fell all over themselves praising ancient Greek and Roman philosophers and poets. More recently, scholars dismiss the insights and wisdom of dead, white men. Even expert knowledge of the 20th century is rapidly disappearing in the rear view mirror. Their world was so small, how could they expect to know anything?

With the ever-expanding, ever-accelerating Internet we find ourselves mired in information, swamped in unprocessed data. For every truth there is a counter-truth; for every argument, a disagreement. Whatever I know today I will doubt tomorrow, and repudiate next week.

Oddly, Jesus ben Sirach, the Jewish scholar who compiled and authored Ecclesiasticus, understood our dilemma in the second century before Christ. But he wasn't distressed by it. His faith assured him that, if no one...

...has understood the multiplicity of (wisdom's) ways...

there is... one, wise and truly awe-inspiring,

seated upon his throne:

There is but one, Most High....

Sirach's love and frank adoration of the Most High God inoculated him from the pride of new knowledge. He could admire his ancestors and their acumen without supposing that his new insights proved his superiority over them. If the times were changing, as they always are, he could delight in new information and appreciate ancient lore. For always, just above him -- so near they were almost visible -- were the throne of the Most High God and His consort, Lady Wisdom.

Jesus ben Sirach understood wisdom as a gift of God. His attitude prevailed well into the Middle Ages when doctors and teachers were not permitted to sell their knowledge. How could you market God's free gift? Scholars relied upon wealthy patrons and student donations and didn't expect to get wealthy. The last shreds of that reluctance disappeared only recently as lawyers began to advertise their eager availability.

We do well to practice Sirach's faith in God as we are overwhelmed with information and assailed by experts. Recently we have seen an outbreak of measles, a disease that was nearly extinct. Conscientious parents fell prey to unscrupulous bloggers whose only expertise were the ability to exploit naivete. They would not have their children inoculated. The bloggers profited with "clickbait." What did their sponsors care if children died? "Am I my brother's keeper?" they asked. They were getting rich and, as Gordon Gekko said, "Greed is good."

The Wisdom writers of the Old and New Testaments did not think ignorance is bliss. They equated foolishness with sin and wisdom with virtue. Certainly, as the measles epidemic demonstrates, there are tragic consequences for listening to unwise advice. The right choice is not just a matter of opinion.

There is a God who governs us with Wisdom. We should seek his guidance.