One Sunday morning many years ago, the priests of my parish had an impromptu discussion in the rectory kitchen about an answer Ann Landers had given in that morning’s column. What characterized the column was not only what we believed to be bad advice but also the phrase Miss Landers appended to it: “And I don’t want to hear from any clergymen about this.”
Folks seek wisdom from many sources — columnists, books, diets, stars, cards and just about anything that espouses itself as a font of good advice. But who is truly wise? Wisdom is not necessarily the result of great intelligence or years of schooling; some PhD’s are not very wise, and some people who have had little formal education possess the wisdom of Solomon. The wisdom called for in raising children can be given a jumpstart by books, but for the most part it is sculpted by the daily experience of parenting, loving and sacrificing.
Wisdom comes to some people through suffering and to others the moment they refuse to suffer any longer. At times wisdom is expressed in eloquent words, at other times in silence. It involves knowing certain things and humbly admitting what one does not know. Most of the time genuinely wise people do not realize the depth of their wisdom — and they would never think of hanging out a shingle that reads, “Wisdom To Be Found Here.”
True wisdom comes through a relationship with Jesus, one that is fed by prayer. Jesus’ parable of the wise and foolish maidens (Matthew 25:1-13), some of whom brought ample oil for their lamps to keep vigil for the bridegroom, some of whom did not, is ultimately about keeping the bridegroom (Jesus) always in mind. The wise maidens were wise because they took the bridegroom into consideration in all their plans, even bringing extra oil to keep their lamps burning brightly for him.
The Church celebrates the feast of St. Benedict on July 11 (the Benedictines also celebrate on March 21). Praying the breviary on his feast last summer, I was caught by a response to one of the readings: “Wishing to please God alone, Benedict left his home and patrimony to enter the religious life. He lived as a hermit in the presence of the all-seeing God. He withdrew from the world of men, knowingly unacquainted with its ways and wisely unlearned in its wisdom.”
I have often let the phrase roll around in my mind since that summer morning: “… knowingly unacquainted with its ways and wisely unlearned in its wisdom.” Benedict was no simpleton, nor was he naïve about human nature; the rule of life he created for his community has stood the test of time and is known for its keen psychological insight. On his feast, however, the Church remembers not his knowledge but his dependence on God as his only source of wisdom.
No matter how complicated our jobs, our decisions or our plans; no matter how much education we have received or how capable we are of understanding complex concepts; no matter how much theology we have read or how many words we have written; no matter how many people are in our charge — the task is to keep our hearts simple and to focus simply on Jesus. Father Jacques Philippe, in “Searching for and Maintaining Peace,” writes, “The certitudes that the habit of prayer inculcates in us are considerably stronger than those that flow from reasoning, even at the highest level of theology.”
That is not to say that human wisdom, advice, education, theology and skills training have no value. To the contrary, they are of immense help, every day. But the Christian places every skill and every bit of knowledge under the light of Jesus, who will lead us straightforwardly, even in darkness, to the place where he wants us. With his guidance, our skills will be used for good, and we will more easily (perhaps even unknowingly) cooperate with what he desires to do.
When praying for his guidance, we do not have to come up with a firm “answer” to know that he has heard us. We have to let go of our desire to fix everything and our desire to see results according to our schedule and simply trust that he has accepted our heartfelt desire to do what he wants. Our gift of an open heart is all he needs to lead us.
I find that I worry too much when I place too much trust in myself. Doing my homework, but giving it — abandoning it — all to Jesus, I can rest in the assurance that he has read my heart and will not fail me.
As a bishop, I am of most help to people not when I give them good advice, when I preach a good sermon, or when I write an interesting column — but when I lead them to Jesus. Please God, may it be so.
Do you have an intention for Bishop Sartain’s prayer? If so, send it to him at Bishop Sartain’s Prayer List, Diocese of Little Rock, 2500 North Tyler St., P.O. Box 7239, Little Rock, AR 72217.
Come with an open heart seeking wisdom
