The first day of school endures as an occasion for picture taking. Thanks to social media, we get to see the little ones who are very excited about going to Kindergarten or 1st grade, and we get to see the older ones who can’t quite decide whether to look excited, bored, amused, or cool. And then there are the pics of college dorm rooms with beaming first-year undergraduates and the occasional glimpse of a parent who doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
It’s a big deal when a new school year begins. You get to see old friends again after the long summer break, and you’re excited about making new ones. There are new teachers to meet, new notebooks to decorate, and for some, whole new buildings to explore. We mark those first days because we look forward to looking back some day and recalling the wondrous reality of growing up: we all turn from babies into people, it’s the most common thing, but it’s a marvel to witness. And it’s equally marvelous for our children to see pictures of their parents and grandparents on their first day of school many years ago, and to realize that these mighty adults once were little ones, too.
What you can’t see in those pictures is the joy of the moms and dads who took them, the deeper-than-in-the-bones love they have for their kids, and the hope in their bellies — hope that they will be healthy, that they will be surrounded by people who help them become who God wants them to be, and that growing up they will love the person they’re becoming, and that they will find not just a job, but good work that allows them to apply their gifts and skills, and flourish.
These days, of course, many parents are worried sick about sending their kids to school. Moms and dads, whether they wanted to or not, had to become risk mitigation specialists with a minor in epidemiology, and largely because public health has become politicized at the worst imaginable moment.
“Be careful then how you live,” it says in today’s passage from Ephesians; “not as unwise people but as wise, making the most of the time, because the days are evil.” I’d probably want to push back a little against the declaration that “the days are evil,” because no day that God has created can be entirely devoid of good. But some days are closer to good than others, and recently we’ve had quite a few more of those a little farther from good, it seems. And the load they put on our shoulders is heavy.
When you watch the news reports about the school board meeting in Williamson County this week, those images stay with you. When you see on your screens the flames and plumes of smoke of the wildfires out West and in Siberia, those images stay with you. These days are far from good, and strong majorities of Americans share a sense of great urgency along with various levels of perplexity as to what is keeping us from moving forward together.
One set of the parents who attended Tuesday’s school board meeting were Dr. Maxwell and his wife, who is also a medical professional. When the energy in the room had gotten hot, and he knew things were going to get a lot worse, he suggested to his wife that it was probably best to leave. He took her arm and, walking to the door he said, “Just remember, no matter what they say, these are the lives we’re trying to save.”
There was a crowd chanting when they stepped outside, Maxwell told CNN. Someone approached him. “[They] put their hand in my face and called me a traitor,” Maxwell recalled. “I don't see how anyone can say that when I’ve been on the front lines of this pandemic since the beginning, treating patients in rooms, unvaccinated for the vast majority of it, hoping I wouldn’t take it home to my family. And for someone to say that, it’s mind-blowing.”[1]
Yes, it is, and to think that it’s over something as seemingly simple as a mandate to wear masks on busses and in classrooms — mind-blowing.
“Be careful then how you live, not as unwise people but as wise, making the most of the time.”
In the days when the book of Proverbs was compiled, very few children went to school. They learned the life skills they needed at home, in the neighborhood, and in the synagogue. Only some very privileged boys attended schools that were attached to the court and the temple, or were run independently in larger cities. The teachers at those schools were venerated as sages, and they were probably the ones collecting sayings and lectures in compendia like the book of Proverbs for teaching purposes. But just like today, parents played a key role in educating their children.
In the opening verses of the book of Proverbs it says, “Hear, my child, your father’s instruction, and do not reject your mother’s teaching; for they are a fair garland for your head, and pendants for your neck.”[2] Those parents also carried hope in their bellies for their children, and sooner or later, at just the right age, they would introduce them to Woman Wisdom, the personification of the kind of knowledge they wanted them to attain.
Happy are those who find wisdom,
and those who get understanding,
for her income is better than silver,
and her revenue better than gold.
She is more precious than jewels,
and nothing you desire can compare with her.
Long life is in her right hand;
in her left hand are riches and honor.
Her ways are ways of pleasantness,
and all her paths are peace.
She is a tree of life to those who lay hold of her;
those who hold her fast are called happy.[3]
Parents wanted their kids to be smart and skilled, confident and kind, and the figure that integrated all these attributes and elevated them as godlike was Woman Wisdom. And in the book of Proverbs and other ancient Jewish texts Woman Wisdom is not only spoken about, but she herself speaks:
Wisdom cries out in the street;
in the squares she raises her voice.
At the busiest corner she cries out;
at the entrance of the city gates she speaks:
“How long, O simple ones, will you love being simple?
How long will scoffers delight in their scoffing
and fools hate knowledge?
Give heed to my reproof;
I will pour out my thoughts to you;
I will make my words known to you.
And then she adds, with a blend of sorrow and frustration in her voice,
Because I have called and you refused,
have stretched out my hand and no one heeded,
and because you have ignored all my counsel
and would have none of my reproof,
I also will laugh at your calamity;
I will mock when panic strikes you,
when panic strikes you like a storm,
and your calamity comes like a whirlwind…[4]
Wisdom wonders how long scoffers would delight in their scoffing and fools hate knowledge, and remembering how she stretched out her hand and no one heeded, she lets the passersby know she would laugh when their foolishness would cause calamity.
The Earth’s atmosphere is overheating, the land is dry and hard as concrete in some parts and flooding in others, forests and woodlands are on fire, infection rates are on the rise, and folks opposed to masking threaten neighbors who support it. Calamity certainly has come like a whirlwind, but I can’t bear the thought of Wisdom laughing at our foolish ways.
And I don’t believe she does. For she has built her house, she has prepared a feast, she has set the table, and from the highest places in the town she calls, “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.”
She’s not laughing, nor is she mocking. She’s inviting us to her feast, with words reminding us of Jesus, and with deep compassion. “Lay aside immaturity, and live,” she calls. There’s urgency in her words, because much is at stake. She knows that ultimately the path we’re on is a matter of life and death, and she wants us to live.
In the deep mess we find ourselves in, our hope is that we are not quite grown up yet. Our hope is that in many ways we’re like Kindergartners on the first day of school: eager to learn, open to God and to the world, excited about the possibilities that lie ahead. We’re very much like Kindergartners, although most of us have forgotten it, and not just because of old age. Our hope is that God isn’t finished with us yet.
“Be careful then how you live, not as unwise people but as wise.” That remarkable line from Ephesians doesn’t shake its finger at us with a strict and stern expression. It addresses us as human beings who have become new through Jesus’ deep solidarity with us in his death and resurrection. It reminds us of our true identity as members of the body of Christ, reconciled to God and to one another. “Be careful then how you live, not as unwise people but as wise.” The line points us to the countless, daily opportunities to be attentive to how we act, what we say and how we say it, and how we think. It’s easy to see others as fools and just as easy to call them such; but the real work is to become a little wiser ourselves every day. The real challenge is to trust that God isn’t finished with us yet, and that none of us will cease becoming who we are as children of God.
[1] https://www.cnn.com/2021/08/12/us/tennessee-covid-mask-mandate-school-board-protest/index.html
[2] Proverbs 1:8-9
[3] Proverbs 3:13-18
[4] Proverbs 1:20-27