Proverbs 8
June 16, 2019
First Presbyterian Church, Sterling IL
Christina Berry
Our scripture reading today is from the Book of Proverbs,
a selection from the wisdom literature of the Hebrew Scriptures
that reminds us of the wonder and mystery that is God.
Today is Trinity Sunday in the church year,
but I’m not preaching on the Trinity.
I’m preaching on wisdom, an attribute of God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit.
June 16, 2019
First Presbyterian Church, Sterling IL
Christina Berry
Our scripture reading today is from the Book of Proverbs,
a selection from the wisdom literature of the Hebrew Scriptures
that reminds us of the wonder and mystery that is God.
Today is Trinity Sunday in the church year,
but I’m not preaching on the Trinity.
I’m preaching on wisdom, an attribute of God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit.
Wisdom as a woman, Sophia, in the Greek,
is often considered to be an expression of God, of the Holy Spirit.
The scripture we’ll read today is poetry,
and as such, needs to be heard and perceived like poetry.
Images and metaphors do more than “just say exactly what you mean.”
Poetry asks something more of us,
the willingness to let the images be, to see them and delight in them,
and to let their truth come to us as if we are hearing a song from a very distant place.
Let’s open our hearts to God’s wisdom in Proverbs 8:1-4, 22-31:
Does not wisdom call, and does not understanding raise her voice?
On the heights, beside the way, at the crossroads she takes her stand;
beside the gates in front of the town,
at the entrance of the portals she cries out:
“To you, O people, I call, and my cry is to all that live.
The Lord created me at the beginning of his work,
the first of his acts of 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.
Before the mountains had been shaped,
before the hills, I was brought forth—
when God had not yet made earth and fields,
or the world’s first bits of soil.
When God established the heavens, I was there,
when God drew a circle on the face of the deep,
when God made firm the skies above,
when God established the fountains of the deep,
when God assigned to the sea its limit,
so that the waters might not transgress his command,
when God marked out 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.
The word of the Lord.
Thanks be to God.
Let’s imagine for a minute that we are in High School.
Let’s say we are sophomores in literature class,
and we’ve been given an assignment to write about wisdom.
Not only do we have to write something about wisdom,
we have to write it as if wisdom is a being – a person or animal,
and we have to think about what wisdom does and says.
So we can’t write one of those meandering sophomoric essays,
entitled “What does wisdom mean to me?”
And we can’t write a research paper that begins by saying.
“Webster’s dictionary defines wisdom as follows:
knowledge that is gained by having many experiences in life;
the natural ability to understand things that most other people cannot;
knowledge of what is proper or reasonable; good sense or judgment.”
We also can’t use tired old jokes like this one:
“What’s the difference between wisdom and knowledge?
Knowledge is knowing that a tomato is a fruit;
wisdom is knowing not to put tomatoes in a fruit salad.”
Given an assignment like this, there’s only one way to write it,
and that is to write a poem.
That’s what the writer of Proverbs did, and in this chapter, Wisdom is a woman.
Wisdom is a woman, and a street preacher.
She demands that we attend to her.
She stands at the crossroads and calls out to us.
“Listen,” she says. “I have knowledge, insight, strength. My words are truth.
I have been here since before the foundation of the earth.
When the earth was void and without form,
when the Spirit of God moved across the face of the deep, I was there.
Before there were mountains, or hills, or earth or fields, I was there.”
Listen to this again:
“When God established the heavens, I was there,
when God drew a circle on the face of the deep,
when God made firm the skies above,
when God established the fountains of the deep,
when God assigned to the sea its limit,
so that the waters might not transgress his command,
when God marked out the foundations of the earth,
then I was beside him, like a master worker;”
Wisdom is eternal!
And not only that, wisdom is an artist.
She’s creating beauty; she is at play in creation,
taking delight in God, and in the human race!
In the next chapter, she’s a builder and a butcher and a vintner;
she builds a house, prepares a feast,
and sends out her servants to call us all to dinner.
Well, okay, then, I know some of you are wondering,
“Wisdom is a woman who is throwing a banquet.
Wisdom is a preacher out in the street.
But what does that actually mean?”
My sophomore English literature class assignment
was going to be a predictable wise old man telling stories,
or a wise old owl saying, “Who? Who?”
But God’s word in the Hebrew Scriptures doesn’t drone on like that.
Instead, this scripture is a holy invitation.
When I was a kid, every sermon at the Missionary Church
ended with what they called an invitation.
Other churches call it an “altar call.”
In that invitation, we were told what was wrong with us,
and what God had tried to do about it, and how finally Jesus died for us,
and that we could attend God’s big party in heaven
if only we would respond to the invitation.
That meant going forward to the altar and praying the sinner’s prayer.
I’m extending an invitation today, but not an altar call.
For one thing, we Presbyterians don’t even HAVE an altar –
we have a communion table.
But more importantly, the invitation I’m extending to you
is not asking you to make a decision for Christ –
it’s asking you to a party that happens every day all around us!
Today’s invitation is to wonder and delight.
See, when Jesus came, Lady Wisdom came with him.
He just invited people to follow him, and she invited them into joy,
and they had a guest list that was longer and bigger than anything you’ve ever seen.
They had a guest list that was the entire human race.
is often considered to be an expression of God, of the Holy Spirit.
The scripture we’ll read today is poetry,
and as such, needs to be heard and perceived like poetry.
Images and metaphors do more than “just say exactly what you mean.”
Poetry asks something more of us,
the willingness to let the images be, to see them and delight in them,
and to let their truth come to us as if we are hearing a song from a very distant place.
Let’s open our hearts to God’s wisdom in Proverbs 8:1-4, 22-31:
Does not wisdom call, and does not understanding raise her voice?
On the heights, beside the way, at the crossroads she takes her stand;
beside the gates in front of the town,
at the entrance of the portals she cries out:
“To you, O people, I call, and my cry is to all that live.
The Lord created me at the beginning of his work,
the first of his acts of 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.
Before the mountains had been shaped,
before the hills, I was brought forth—
when God had not yet made earth and fields,
or the world’s first bits of soil.
When God established the heavens, I was there,
when God drew a circle on the face of the deep,
when God made firm the skies above,
when God established the fountains of the deep,
when God assigned to the sea its limit,
so that the waters might not transgress his command,
when God marked out 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.
The word of the Lord.
Thanks be to God.
Let’s imagine for a minute that we are in High School.
Let’s say we are sophomores in literature class,
and we’ve been given an assignment to write about wisdom.
Not only do we have to write something about wisdom,
we have to write it as if wisdom is a being – a person or animal,
and we have to think about what wisdom does and says.
So we can’t write one of those meandering sophomoric essays,
entitled “What does wisdom mean to me?”
And we can’t write a research paper that begins by saying.
“Webster’s dictionary defines wisdom as follows:
knowledge that is gained by having many experiences in life;
the natural ability to understand things that most other people cannot;
knowledge of what is proper or reasonable; good sense or judgment.”
We also can’t use tired old jokes like this one:
“What’s the difference between wisdom and knowledge?
Knowledge is knowing that a tomato is a fruit;
wisdom is knowing not to put tomatoes in a fruit salad.”
Given an assignment like this, there’s only one way to write it,
and that is to write a poem.
That’s what the writer of Proverbs did, and in this chapter, Wisdom is a woman.
Wisdom is a woman, and a street preacher.
She demands that we attend to her.
She stands at the crossroads and calls out to us.
“Listen,” she says. “I have knowledge, insight, strength. My words are truth.
I have been here since before the foundation of the earth.
When the earth was void and without form,
when the Spirit of God moved across the face of the deep, I was there.
Before there were mountains, or hills, or earth or fields, I was there.”
Listen to this again:
“When God established the heavens, I was there,
when God drew a circle on the face of the deep,
when God made firm the skies above,
when God established the fountains of the deep,
when God assigned to the sea its limit,
so that the waters might not transgress his command,
when God marked out the foundations of the earth,
then I was beside him, like a master worker;”
Wisdom is eternal!
And not only that, wisdom is an artist.
She’s creating beauty; she is at play in creation,
taking delight in God, and in the human race!
In the next chapter, she’s a builder and a butcher and a vintner;
she builds a house, prepares a feast,
and sends out her servants to call us all to dinner.
Well, okay, then, I know some of you are wondering,
“Wisdom is a woman who is throwing a banquet.
Wisdom is a preacher out in the street.
But what does that actually mean?”
My sophomore English literature class assignment
was going to be a predictable wise old man telling stories,
or a wise old owl saying, “Who? Who?”
But God’s word in the Hebrew Scriptures doesn’t drone on like that.
Instead, this scripture is a holy invitation.
When I was a kid, every sermon at the Missionary Church
ended with what they called an invitation.
Other churches call it an “altar call.”
In that invitation, we were told what was wrong with us,
and what God had tried to do about it, and how finally Jesus died for us,
and that we could attend God’s big party in heaven
if only we would respond to the invitation.
That meant going forward to the altar and praying the sinner’s prayer.
I’m extending an invitation today, but not an altar call.
For one thing, we Presbyterians don’t even HAVE an altar –
we have a communion table.
But more importantly, the invitation I’m extending to you
is not asking you to make a decision for Christ –
it’s asking you to a party that happens every day all around us!
Today’s invitation is to wonder and delight.
See, when Jesus came, Lady Wisdom came with him.
He just invited people to follow him, and she invited them into joy,
and they had a guest list that was longer and bigger than anything you’ve ever seen.
They had a guest list that was the entire human race.
Here’s the invitation.
There’s no deadline to send in the RSVP.
Wisdom is standing out at the intersections of life,
maybe right out at Second Avenue and Fifth Street,
and she’s shouting out this invitation to us,
an invitation to the great celebration that is life.
The dinner is a feast, a banquet, spread out before us in the presence of our enemies;
The food is bountiful and the wine flows freely, poured out until our cups run over.
The other guests are those we love and those we can’t stand,
but who cares, because this is a party!
Yes, there will be times when you step out from under the joyful tent
and into the darkness of despair,
Yes, there will be times when your heart feels to heavy to lift,
when you can’t hear the music.
But the invitation stands.
The decorations are everywhere, and they change with the seasons:
the greening buds, the drifting leaves, the gentle snow, the warming sun.
God took a paintbrush and washed colors across the sky,
drew lines around the seas and the forests, put in some happy little trees,
and populated the world with amazing creatures.
Come sit down at the table,
come dance in the starlit meadow,
come frolic with me in the garden
that has been here since the beginning of all time.
Awe and delight are here, like gifts for you to unwrap.
Love and mercy and joy and hope are party favors,
set out at every plate for every guest.
This is a come as you are party,
and Lady Wisdom is shouting out to us from the high places
and from the busy streets,
amid the parking lots and skyscrapers
and underneath toadstools and snapdragons:
come and take delight in this life you have been given!
Come and know that you are loved.
Amen.
There’s no deadline to send in the RSVP.
Wisdom is standing out at the intersections of life,
maybe right out at Second Avenue and Fifth Street,
and she’s shouting out this invitation to us,
an invitation to the great celebration that is life.
The dinner is a feast, a banquet, spread out before us in the presence of our enemies;
The food is bountiful and the wine flows freely, poured out until our cups run over.
The other guests are those we love and those we can’t stand,
but who cares, because this is a party!
Yes, there will be times when you step out from under the joyful tent
and into the darkness of despair,
Yes, there will be times when your heart feels to heavy to lift,
when you can’t hear the music.
But the invitation stands.
The decorations are everywhere, and they change with the seasons:
the greening buds, the drifting leaves, the gentle snow, the warming sun.
God took a paintbrush and washed colors across the sky,
drew lines around the seas and the forests, put in some happy little trees,
and populated the world with amazing creatures.
Come sit down at the table,
come dance in the starlit meadow,
come frolic with me in the garden
that has been here since the beginning of all time.
Awe and delight are here, like gifts for you to unwrap.
Love and mercy and joy and hope are party favors,
set out at every plate for every guest.
This is a come as you are party,
and Lady Wisdom is shouting out to us from the high places
and from the busy streets,
amid the parking lots and skyscrapers
and underneath toadstools and snapdragons:
come and take delight in this life you have been given!
Come and know that you are loved.
Amen.
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