Consider the source
Commentary
Object:
The Bible is marked by a kind of dualism that is much-maligned in our present culture. We prefer the nuance and sophistication that is a thousand shades of gray. Sometimes, of course, that nuance is just confusion masquerading as insight. In any event, our contemporary culture is generally turned off by the this-or-that, black-and-white paradigm that we find throughout the pages of scripture. Yet that is, indeed, what we find there.
Moses tells the people that they have a choice between life and death, between blessings and curses (Deuteronomy 30:19). The Psalmist sees humanity divided into just two groups, the righteous and the wicked (e.g., Psalm 1). The Apostle Paul teaches that we live either in response to the flesh or in response to the Spirit (e.g., Galatians 5:16-25). The Apostle John distinguishes between children of God and children of the devil (1 John 3:1-10). And Proverbs understands all of life in terms of either-or choices: wise or foolish, rash or cautious, self-disciplined or self-indulgent, proud or humble, and so forth.
Jesus' parables, likewise, are full of the same sort of two-choice dualism. You can be like the wise builder or the foolish one (Matthew 7:24-27), the wise or the foolish virgins (Matthew 25:1-13), a good tree or a bad tree (Luke 6:43), the sheep or the goats (Matthew 25:31-46). Even when there are more than two characters -- or groups of characters -- there still seems to be just two choices. For example, we read about three passersby in the story of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:30-37), yet there are really only two behavior choices involved. The master entrusts his wealth to three servants, but again only two distinct kinds of behaviors are identified (Matthew 25:14-30). While the seed falls on four different soils, there are really only two kinds of end results (Mark 4:3-9). And Jesus teaches that there are just two gates, just two roads, and they lead to two opposite destinations (Matthew 7:13).
Broadly speaking, the prevailing dualism of scripture might be categorized in these broad-brush ways. First, there is a kind of dualism of source: that is to say, where something originates. Jesus, for example, distinguished between the seeds sown by him and the seeds sown by the evil one (Matthew 13:36-38). Second, there is a dualism of performance. This is perhaps the most frequently reflected dualism in scripture, pitting good against bad, righteous against wicked (e.g., Psalm 1). Finally, there is a dualism of end result or destination. We see this part of the paradigm all through scripture, but it is especially stark in some of the parables of Jesus (e.g., Matthew 13:30; 25:46).
That is a broad survey from scripture, but it helps to set the stage for this week's preaching. The texts we have before us this week invite us to deal with the dualistic question of origin. Or to put it more simply, we are challenged this week to consider the source.
Proverbs 31:10-31
The reputation of the Bible is often the victim of those who have misused it. And perhaps nowhere is this phenomenon more evident in our culture than in the roles and relationships of men and women. Because scripture has historically been used by some to subjugate women, scripture is wrongly accused of that subjugation.
On the one hand, it is a careless hermeneutic. Imagine that research revealed a significant number of undeserving pet owners who used baseball bats to beat their dogs. Should the baseball bats themselves or their manufacturers be blamed? Yet that has been the fate of Old and New Testament writers alike. Because so many individuals and groups throughout history have misappropriated certain passages to the detriment of women, the text itself gets the blame.
On the other hand, that dubious hermeneutic is consistent with our larger cultural trend. In a litigious climate, we do tend to assign blame broadly rather than narrowly. And so, infamously, it is not the fault of the clumsy woman who spilled her coffee but of the restaurant that did not properly warn her that it was hot. So, too, we may too quickly overlook the fault of those who have employed scripture maliciously and blame the scripture itself for being capable of such misapplication.
One of the common, though commonly fallacious, assertions is that the Bible simply and uncritically reflects a patriarchal and misogynist society. In contrast to that misleading caricature, however, stands this magnificent tribute to a certain kind of woman. The woman portrayed here is nobody's footstool. She is the consummate individual, fully engaged and competent in every arena of life.
Years ago, the word "housewife" was happily replaced by "homemaker" in our culture. Now even that term has perhaps fallen into some disfavor, but the woman of Proverbs 31 reclaims the nobility of the word. She truly does make her home. And that is not merely the stuff of making beds. No, she is ably employed in commerce and agriculture; she is a seamstress and investor; she is a steward, a wife, and a mother. We see her involved not only with her family, but with merchants, with community leaders, and with the needy.
We also observe in this ancient passage an enlightened view of the woman's body. While we moderns continue to be preoccupied by superficial beauty, Proverbs affirms the vanity of that. Yet at the same time, it paints a truly lovely picture of this woman's anatomy: her hands, her arms, her mouth, and her tongue are frequently referenced, and they all bear witness to her real beauty. Not that she is soft or shapely, but rather that she is full of wisdom, virtue, and character.
James 3:13--4:3, 7-8a
Some questions are traps. When the scribes, Pharisees, and Sadducees sought a way to get Jesus into trouble, they often challenged him with questions that were designed to trap him. Likewise, the serpent's first words to Eve are a question that was meant to trap her. So, too, this initial question from James may have been a trap for some in his audience.
And now we and our congregations are part of his audience.
"Who is wise and understanding among you?" James asks. It is the sort of "show of hands" question that we would like to be able to answer. Who wouldn't want to be able to offer an affirmative response to that query?
In reality, though, James really means "Who among you thinks that he or she is wise and understanding?" Whether you are wise in fact remains to be seen. But what James wants to identify are the folks who are at least walking around with the impression that they are wise.
James' approach reminds us of the question posed by the writer of Proverbs: "Do you see persons wise in their own eyes?" (Proverbs 26:12). Those are the people that James is after, the ones he is calling out. But unlike the writer of Proverbs, James is not going to draw a thick line between "wisdom" and "foolishness." Instead, James' dualism is a distinction between two different kinds of "wisdom."
The two kinds of wisdom, as we are contemplating in the larger theme for this week, are rooted in two different origins. James gently presents those as wisdom that is "from above" and wisdom that "does not come down from above." Enough said. We recall that, in the wake of Peter's famous confession of Christ, Jesus distinguishes between what is revealed by "flesh and blood" on the one hand, and by "my Father in heaven" on the other (Matthew 16:17). And, likewise, in his rebuke of Peter he distinguishes between "divine things" and "human things," with the latter having evoked the reference to Satan (v. 23).
James does not leave us bewildered about the unsettling prospect of real and counterfeit wisdom being in circulation. Rather, just as cashiers are given tricks and tools to identify counterfeit currency, James teaches us how to tell whether wisdom is "from above" or not. The former manifests itself in virtues reminiscent of both the fruit of the Spirit (Galatians 5:22-23) and Paul's definition of love (1 Corinthians 13:4-7). That continuity is not surprising, of course, for the things of God will always resemble the things of God. The wisdom that is not from above, conversely, is conspicuously unpleasant, marked by "bitter envy," "selfish ambition," and "disorder and wickedness of every kind."
So, having begun with a question, James ends with an exhortation. He began asking for a show of hands, if you will, and concludes with an invitation to wash those hands. For if we recognize within ourselves things that are not of God, then we know that it is time for a change. Happily, mercifully, that change is achievable. And that achievement is a process in three steps: submitting ourselves to God, drawing near to him, and cleansing what is unclean.
Mark 9:30-37
Seminary graduates will remember well the "messianic secret" theme in Mark. It is on display again here in the narrator's detail that Jesus "did not want anyone to know" that he was passing through Galilee. That element is not a major factor in this episode, although there is an underlying theological significance. Juxtaposed with Jesus' desire that no one knows he is in the area is his desire that the disciples would know what lies ahead. Ironically, even though he told them everything, they did not understand either his words at this moment or the events themselves when they unfolded.
Next, the gospel writer offers another telling juxtaposition. Following Jesus' revelation about Jerusalem, we are told of an argument among the disciples. As they were walking along the road together, it seems that they were having a debate about greatness. It was not the kind of playful debate that sports fans have -- like who is the greatest centerfielder in Yankee history, or the greatest coach in college basketball, or the greatest NFL franchise of the Super Bowl era. Those debates are harmless inasmuch as they are external: that is, they attribute greatness to someone else. No, this was the more noxious brand of debate about greatness: the kind where each person is claiming to be greater than the other.
This sort of self-serving self-interest would be embarrassing in any context, but it seems particularly gauche in the wake of Jesus' latest teaching. He is the living -- and dying -- model of humility, self-demotion, and self-sacrifice. Yet it seems that no sooner had he told his followers about the cross than they were jockeying for the crown.
We are not privy to the transcript of the conversation that the disciples had that day about greatness. We probably don't need it, though, for we have heard that very conversation so many times in our own experience. Truth be told, most of the arguments we have are, at their core, arguments about who is the greatest. From the time siblings are tug-of-warring over some toy to the nations that stockpile potent death against one another, we human beings are forever arguing about who is the greatest. We assert our own wishes, needs, preferences, and ideas over one another in marriages and families, in neighborhoods and church groups, in local politics and international affairs. The settings are widely varied, but the underlying issue is always the same: a debate about who is greater.
Jesus reframes the disciples' debate with a countercultural and counterintuitive proposition: "Whoever wants to be first must be last of all, and servant of all." It is a complete reversal of all our natural instincts. While the rest of the players on the game board are trying to acquire, the Christian is giving his things away. While the crowd is clamoring for recognition and attention, the disciple gladly turns the spotlight on others. While the world angles for promotions and self-importance, the follower of Jesus rolls up his sleeves, gets down on his knees, and washes the feet of the others.
Finally, Jesus concludes his teaching with an object lesson. He stands a child before them and identifies himself and his Father with that child. Again, the teaching is one that cuts across the cultural grain. While children were naturally cherished by their parents, the larger society did not value them highly or regard them as important. Yet Jesus effectively equates a child with himself and with God.
The principle would not have been entirely foreign: just the application of it. The principle was familiar from the world of politics. An emissary, messenger, or ambassador was the representative of the person who sent him. By himself, that servant may have had no worldly importance at all. In his role as the representative of some lord or king, however, he enjoyed a royal welcome.
So it is, then, that Jesus accords that sort of royal welcome to children. For a child should be associated with the Lord and King. To welcome the child is to welcome Jesus. And to welcome Jesus, of course, is to welcome "the one who sent (him)."
Application
As we noted in our specific treatment of the selection from James, there are evidently two kinds of wisdom: that which is "from above" and that which "does not come down from above." And within that discussion, we introduced the concept of counterfeits. That is an essential principle, and so we return to it here.
We know that in every area of life that which has value has counterfeits. Because currency has value, there are those who try to create duplicates of it -- likewise with forged masterpieces, fashionable clothes, and assorted forms of technology. If it is desirable, then it has value. And if it has value, then someone somewhere is going to create a counterfeit version of it.
And what is true at the human level with material things is even truer at the spiritual level with intangible things. Consider, for example, how deeply people crave things like love, happiness, and peace. These are so desirable -- so valuable to people -- that they trip over themselves in pursuit of these gems. Yet the devil has filled the world with so many counterfeit versions of each that the results are devastating. For what is more dysfunctional and debilitating to a human being than counterfeit love? What is more disappointing than counterfeit happiness -- happiness that masquerades as the genuine article, yet without the lasting benefit and value?
As with all issues of real-or-counterfeit, the key issue is source. If the currency comes from the United States mint, then it is legitimate and has value. If it does not come from an authorized source of currency, however, then it does not ultimately have value and in the end it brings only trouble. Likewise, if the painting came from the hand of a master, it is extremely valuable. But if it is the product of some unknown forger, then, quality notwithstanding, the painting becomes nearly worthless.
Accordingly, James challenges us to "consider the source" of wisdom. If it comes from God, it is the truly desirable and valuable version. If it does not, then it will prove ultimately worthless. And James contends that real wisdom is easily distinguished from its unwholesome counterfeit by the sort of life that it produces -- just as Jesus taught that one can judge a tree by its fruit (Matthew 12:33).
Interestingly, the other two passages effectively present us with fleshed-out pictures of those two kinds of wisdom. If the epistle offers us the theoretical, Proverbs and Mark show us the practical. And perhaps the key image throughout all three passages is the one James uses twice: "selfish ambition."
The Proverbs passage, not surprisingly, paints a picture of true wisdom. Here is a woman whose life is characterized by diligence and productivity. In so many lives, of course, those virtues are misemployed exclusively for the purpose of personal gain -- that is to say, they become the servants of selfish ambition. Yet no honest reading of this text could lead us to such a conclusion about this woman. On the contrary, all of her virtues accrue to the benefit of others. Her duty, her talent, and her wisdom are a blessing to everyone around her.
The gospel lection, on the other hand, paints an unflattering picture of Jesus' own followers. They are the ones, ironically, who manifest wisdom that "does not come from above." For in their jockeying for rank and importance, it is the disciples themselves who become the portraits of selfish ambition.
So it is that today's followers of Jesus are challenged to look in the mirror. Let us set ourselves side-by-side with the woman of Proverbs 31 and the men of Mark 9. Let us evaluate the how and why of what we do. After we have seen what attributes mark our lives and our activity, we should have a pretty good sense for the real source of whatever wisdom we have.
An Alternative Application
Mark 9:30-37. "Question at the end of the road." We noted and discussed above the embarrassing argument in which the disciples were engaged in our gospel lection. We don't have the record of the exact conversation, but we can easily imagine it. Each one has a case to make about his status. Each one lays claim to being the most important, the highest ranking, or the greatest of the group.
As I suggested earlier, this lies at the heart of every human conflict. If our starting thesis was that each other was greater than ourselves (see Paul's counsel in Philippians 2:3-5), we would steer clear of most arguments, both large and small. And while I spoke of all humanity in the discussion above, the real parallel to the gospel event is the argument in the church -- that is, among the followers of Jesus.
Personally, I find the image of verse 33 deeply compelling. The disciples and Jesus had been traveling along on foot, and evidently the argument occurred during that journey. When they finally arrived at their destination, therefore, Jesus asked them this question: "What were you arguing about on the way?"
This episode is not one of the several "judgment day" teachings found in scripture, and yet it has that feel to me. I envision the same sort of thing taking place on a larger, more ultimate scale. When our earthly journey is complete and we are together "in the house" with our Lord, I imagine him asking all of us "What were you arguing about on the way?" And I imagine us, in that moment, being just as embarrassed by all of our trivial and misplaced tiffs.
There we'll be -- mainline and non-denominational, conservative and liberal, traditional and contemporary -- and we'll be together in the presence of the Lord who was incarnate, crucified, and resurrected. He'll ask us the question. We'll remember all of the conflicts we had along the way. And we will confess that, in the course of following him, we did not always live and love like him with one another.
Moses tells the people that they have a choice between life and death, between blessings and curses (Deuteronomy 30:19). The Psalmist sees humanity divided into just two groups, the righteous and the wicked (e.g., Psalm 1). The Apostle Paul teaches that we live either in response to the flesh or in response to the Spirit (e.g., Galatians 5:16-25). The Apostle John distinguishes between children of God and children of the devil (1 John 3:1-10). And Proverbs understands all of life in terms of either-or choices: wise or foolish, rash or cautious, self-disciplined or self-indulgent, proud or humble, and so forth.
Jesus' parables, likewise, are full of the same sort of two-choice dualism. You can be like the wise builder or the foolish one (Matthew 7:24-27), the wise or the foolish virgins (Matthew 25:1-13), a good tree or a bad tree (Luke 6:43), the sheep or the goats (Matthew 25:31-46). Even when there are more than two characters -- or groups of characters -- there still seems to be just two choices. For example, we read about three passersby in the story of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:30-37), yet there are really only two behavior choices involved. The master entrusts his wealth to three servants, but again only two distinct kinds of behaviors are identified (Matthew 25:14-30). While the seed falls on four different soils, there are really only two kinds of end results (Mark 4:3-9). And Jesus teaches that there are just two gates, just two roads, and they lead to two opposite destinations (Matthew 7:13).
Broadly speaking, the prevailing dualism of scripture might be categorized in these broad-brush ways. First, there is a kind of dualism of source: that is to say, where something originates. Jesus, for example, distinguished between the seeds sown by him and the seeds sown by the evil one (Matthew 13:36-38). Second, there is a dualism of performance. This is perhaps the most frequently reflected dualism in scripture, pitting good against bad, righteous against wicked (e.g., Psalm 1). Finally, there is a dualism of end result or destination. We see this part of the paradigm all through scripture, but it is especially stark in some of the parables of Jesus (e.g., Matthew 13:30; 25:46).
That is a broad survey from scripture, but it helps to set the stage for this week's preaching. The texts we have before us this week invite us to deal with the dualistic question of origin. Or to put it more simply, we are challenged this week to consider the source.
Proverbs 31:10-31
The reputation of the Bible is often the victim of those who have misused it. And perhaps nowhere is this phenomenon more evident in our culture than in the roles and relationships of men and women. Because scripture has historically been used by some to subjugate women, scripture is wrongly accused of that subjugation.
On the one hand, it is a careless hermeneutic. Imagine that research revealed a significant number of undeserving pet owners who used baseball bats to beat their dogs. Should the baseball bats themselves or their manufacturers be blamed? Yet that has been the fate of Old and New Testament writers alike. Because so many individuals and groups throughout history have misappropriated certain passages to the detriment of women, the text itself gets the blame.
On the other hand, that dubious hermeneutic is consistent with our larger cultural trend. In a litigious climate, we do tend to assign blame broadly rather than narrowly. And so, infamously, it is not the fault of the clumsy woman who spilled her coffee but of the restaurant that did not properly warn her that it was hot. So, too, we may too quickly overlook the fault of those who have employed scripture maliciously and blame the scripture itself for being capable of such misapplication.
One of the common, though commonly fallacious, assertions is that the Bible simply and uncritically reflects a patriarchal and misogynist society. In contrast to that misleading caricature, however, stands this magnificent tribute to a certain kind of woman. The woman portrayed here is nobody's footstool. She is the consummate individual, fully engaged and competent in every arena of life.
Years ago, the word "housewife" was happily replaced by "homemaker" in our culture. Now even that term has perhaps fallen into some disfavor, but the woman of Proverbs 31 reclaims the nobility of the word. She truly does make her home. And that is not merely the stuff of making beds. No, she is ably employed in commerce and agriculture; she is a seamstress and investor; she is a steward, a wife, and a mother. We see her involved not only with her family, but with merchants, with community leaders, and with the needy.
We also observe in this ancient passage an enlightened view of the woman's body. While we moderns continue to be preoccupied by superficial beauty, Proverbs affirms the vanity of that. Yet at the same time, it paints a truly lovely picture of this woman's anatomy: her hands, her arms, her mouth, and her tongue are frequently referenced, and they all bear witness to her real beauty. Not that she is soft or shapely, but rather that she is full of wisdom, virtue, and character.
James 3:13--4:3, 7-8a
Some questions are traps. When the scribes, Pharisees, and Sadducees sought a way to get Jesus into trouble, they often challenged him with questions that were designed to trap him. Likewise, the serpent's first words to Eve are a question that was meant to trap her. So, too, this initial question from James may have been a trap for some in his audience.
And now we and our congregations are part of his audience.
"Who is wise and understanding among you?" James asks. It is the sort of "show of hands" question that we would like to be able to answer. Who wouldn't want to be able to offer an affirmative response to that query?
In reality, though, James really means "Who among you thinks that he or she is wise and understanding?" Whether you are wise in fact remains to be seen. But what James wants to identify are the folks who are at least walking around with the impression that they are wise.
James' approach reminds us of the question posed by the writer of Proverbs: "Do you see persons wise in their own eyes?" (Proverbs 26:12). Those are the people that James is after, the ones he is calling out. But unlike the writer of Proverbs, James is not going to draw a thick line between "wisdom" and "foolishness." Instead, James' dualism is a distinction between two different kinds of "wisdom."
The two kinds of wisdom, as we are contemplating in the larger theme for this week, are rooted in two different origins. James gently presents those as wisdom that is "from above" and wisdom that "does not come down from above." Enough said. We recall that, in the wake of Peter's famous confession of Christ, Jesus distinguishes between what is revealed by "flesh and blood" on the one hand, and by "my Father in heaven" on the other (Matthew 16:17). And, likewise, in his rebuke of Peter he distinguishes between "divine things" and "human things," with the latter having evoked the reference to Satan (v. 23).
James does not leave us bewildered about the unsettling prospect of real and counterfeit wisdom being in circulation. Rather, just as cashiers are given tricks and tools to identify counterfeit currency, James teaches us how to tell whether wisdom is "from above" or not. The former manifests itself in virtues reminiscent of both the fruit of the Spirit (Galatians 5:22-23) and Paul's definition of love (1 Corinthians 13:4-7). That continuity is not surprising, of course, for the things of God will always resemble the things of God. The wisdom that is not from above, conversely, is conspicuously unpleasant, marked by "bitter envy," "selfish ambition," and "disorder and wickedness of every kind."
So, having begun with a question, James ends with an exhortation. He began asking for a show of hands, if you will, and concludes with an invitation to wash those hands. For if we recognize within ourselves things that are not of God, then we know that it is time for a change. Happily, mercifully, that change is achievable. And that achievement is a process in three steps: submitting ourselves to God, drawing near to him, and cleansing what is unclean.
Mark 9:30-37
Seminary graduates will remember well the "messianic secret" theme in Mark. It is on display again here in the narrator's detail that Jesus "did not want anyone to know" that he was passing through Galilee. That element is not a major factor in this episode, although there is an underlying theological significance. Juxtaposed with Jesus' desire that no one knows he is in the area is his desire that the disciples would know what lies ahead. Ironically, even though he told them everything, they did not understand either his words at this moment or the events themselves when they unfolded.
Next, the gospel writer offers another telling juxtaposition. Following Jesus' revelation about Jerusalem, we are told of an argument among the disciples. As they were walking along the road together, it seems that they were having a debate about greatness. It was not the kind of playful debate that sports fans have -- like who is the greatest centerfielder in Yankee history, or the greatest coach in college basketball, or the greatest NFL franchise of the Super Bowl era. Those debates are harmless inasmuch as they are external: that is, they attribute greatness to someone else. No, this was the more noxious brand of debate about greatness: the kind where each person is claiming to be greater than the other.
This sort of self-serving self-interest would be embarrassing in any context, but it seems particularly gauche in the wake of Jesus' latest teaching. He is the living -- and dying -- model of humility, self-demotion, and self-sacrifice. Yet it seems that no sooner had he told his followers about the cross than they were jockeying for the crown.
We are not privy to the transcript of the conversation that the disciples had that day about greatness. We probably don't need it, though, for we have heard that very conversation so many times in our own experience. Truth be told, most of the arguments we have are, at their core, arguments about who is the greatest. From the time siblings are tug-of-warring over some toy to the nations that stockpile potent death against one another, we human beings are forever arguing about who is the greatest. We assert our own wishes, needs, preferences, and ideas over one another in marriages and families, in neighborhoods and church groups, in local politics and international affairs. The settings are widely varied, but the underlying issue is always the same: a debate about who is greater.
Jesus reframes the disciples' debate with a countercultural and counterintuitive proposition: "Whoever wants to be first must be last of all, and servant of all." It is a complete reversal of all our natural instincts. While the rest of the players on the game board are trying to acquire, the Christian is giving his things away. While the crowd is clamoring for recognition and attention, the disciple gladly turns the spotlight on others. While the world angles for promotions and self-importance, the follower of Jesus rolls up his sleeves, gets down on his knees, and washes the feet of the others.
Finally, Jesus concludes his teaching with an object lesson. He stands a child before them and identifies himself and his Father with that child. Again, the teaching is one that cuts across the cultural grain. While children were naturally cherished by their parents, the larger society did not value them highly or regard them as important. Yet Jesus effectively equates a child with himself and with God.
The principle would not have been entirely foreign: just the application of it. The principle was familiar from the world of politics. An emissary, messenger, or ambassador was the representative of the person who sent him. By himself, that servant may have had no worldly importance at all. In his role as the representative of some lord or king, however, he enjoyed a royal welcome.
So it is, then, that Jesus accords that sort of royal welcome to children. For a child should be associated with the Lord and King. To welcome the child is to welcome Jesus. And to welcome Jesus, of course, is to welcome "the one who sent (him)."
Application
As we noted in our specific treatment of the selection from James, there are evidently two kinds of wisdom: that which is "from above" and that which "does not come down from above." And within that discussion, we introduced the concept of counterfeits. That is an essential principle, and so we return to it here.
We know that in every area of life that which has value has counterfeits. Because currency has value, there are those who try to create duplicates of it -- likewise with forged masterpieces, fashionable clothes, and assorted forms of technology. If it is desirable, then it has value. And if it has value, then someone somewhere is going to create a counterfeit version of it.
And what is true at the human level with material things is even truer at the spiritual level with intangible things. Consider, for example, how deeply people crave things like love, happiness, and peace. These are so desirable -- so valuable to people -- that they trip over themselves in pursuit of these gems. Yet the devil has filled the world with so many counterfeit versions of each that the results are devastating. For what is more dysfunctional and debilitating to a human being than counterfeit love? What is more disappointing than counterfeit happiness -- happiness that masquerades as the genuine article, yet without the lasting benefit and value?
As with all issues of real-or-counterfeit, the key issue is source. If the currency comes from the United States mint, then it is legitimate and has value. If it does not come from an authorized source of currency, however, then it does not ultimately have value and in the end it brings only trouble. Likewise, if the painting came from the hand of a master, it is extremely valuable. But if it is the product of some unknown forger, then, quality notwithstanding, the painting becomes nearly worthless.
Accordingly, James challenges us to "consider the source" of wisdom. If it comes from God, it is the truly desirable and valuable version. If it does not, then it will prove ultimately worthless. And James contends that real wisdom is easily distinguished from its unwholesome counterfeit by the sort of life that it produces -- just as Jesus taught that one can judge a tree by its fruit (Matthew 12:33).
Interestingly, the other two passages effectively present us with fleshed-out pictures of those two kinds of wisdom. If the epistle offers us the theoretical, Proverbs and Mark show us the practical. And perhaps the key image throughout all three passages is the one James uses twice: "selfish ambition."
The Proverbs passage, not surprisingly, paints a picture of true wisdom. Here is a woman whose life is characterized by diligence and productivity. In so many lives, of course, those virtues are misemployed exclusively for the purpose of personal gain -- that is to say, they become the servants of selfish ambition. Yet no honest reading of this text could lead us to such a conclusion about this woman. On the contrary, all of her virtues accrue to the benefit of others. Her duty, her talent, and her wisdom are a blessing to everyone around her.
The gospel lection, on the other hand, paints an unflattering picture of Jesus' own followers. They are the ones, ironically, who manifest wisdom that "does not come from above." For in their jockeying for rank and importance, it is the disciples themselves who become the portraits of selfish ambition.
So it is that today's followers of Jesus are challenged to look in the mirror. Let us set ourselves side-by-side with the woman of Proverbs 31 and the men of Mark 9. Let us evaluate the how and why of what we do. After we have seen what attributes mark our lives and our activity, we should have a pretty good sense for the real source of whatever wisdom we have.
An Alternative Application
Mark 9:30-37. "Question at the end of the road." We noted and discussed above the embarrassing argument in which the disciples were engaged in our gospel lection. We don't have the record of the exact conversation, but we can easily imagine it. Each one has a case to make about his status. Each one lays claim to being the most important, the highest ranking, or the greatest of the group.
As I suggested earlier, this lies at the heart of every human conflict. If our starting thesis was that each other was greater than ourselves (see Paul's counsel in Philippians 2:3-5), we would steer clear of most arguments, both large and small. And while I spoke of all humanity in the discussion above, the real parallel to the gospel event is the argument in the church -- that is, among the followers of Jesus.
Personally, I find the image of verse 33 deeply compelling. The disciples and Jesus had been traveling along on foot, and evidently the argument occurred during that journey. When they finally arrived at their destination, therefore, Jesus asked them this question: "What were you arguing about on the way?"
This episode is not one of the several "judgment day" teachings found in scripture, and yet it has that feel to me. I envision the same sort of thing taking place on a larger, more ultimate scale. When our earthly journey is complete and we are together "in the house" with our Lord, I imagine him asking all of us "What were you arguing about on the way?" And I imagine us, in that moment, being just as embarrassed by all of our trivial and misplaced tiffs.
There we'll be -- mainline and non-denominational, conservative and liberal, traditional and contemporary -- and we'll be together in the presence of the Lord who was incarnate, crucified, and resurrected. He'll ask us the question. We'll remember all of the conflicts we had along the way. And we will confess that, in the course of following him, we did not always live and love like him with one another.
