Canter Bridge

As a compendium, the Bible is born in a resolutely communal manger.

Solitary, introspective philosophies of the kind common to, say, Europe in the second half of the twentieth century, must scrounge energetically to find biblical precedents for the lonely path they travel. In biblical perspective, the first man and woman have barely begun to wake to each other’s charms before they are commanded to make a horde of other creatures just like them. Similarly, biblical trajectories of human history tend to reach their pinnacle in sanctified mob scenes.

In short, the Bible is rarely about me. It very often is about us.

Against such a default plurality, the proverb’s realism about life’s deepest experience stands in stark relief. Those fellow travelers of a redeemed and redeeming people will nod with understanding as it reminds us that deep singularity haunts the journey, even when the din of other voices rings loudly:

The heart knows its own bitterness,
and no stranger shares its joy.

Some things, we are allowed to consider, must be carried alone. Some tears tolerate no articulate explanation, some joys explode with solitary passion.

One walks, even in a very large company, alone.

There is no escaping solitude, only a wizened embrace of its inescapable, enduring presence. This is not all we possess. Yet it is, necessarily, a portion of our inheritance. And of mine.

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An army of days stands between the sweaty work of breaking soil and the harvest that puts bread on the table and joy in a cup. Only the courage to trust in labor’s good product pushes through that threat. Anything less and a man lies down, folds his arms, and asks the air ‘What can I do about all this?’

Life takes root in that very courage:

Those who till their land will have plenty of food,
but those who follow worthless pursuits have no sense.

One does not necessarily attribute courage and self-denial to the farmer. His quotidian movements about the land seem prosaic, ordinary, undramatic. Yet in the quiet, often solitary movements of his hoe, the steady removal of weed and thistle, the thankless task of watering parched dirt, the soil’s tiller battles against the lethargy and myopia that promise immediate entertainment and starve one’s children.

He does today what is necessary for the blessing of a moment two seasons from now. He delays fulfillment so that stomachs, hearts, and minds might thrive on the fulness of a well-stocked winter.

So also those who turn a different soil. Each morning’s decision to delay gratification this day builds a future still unseen. The battle for life and blessing does not always produce the clash of swords and a trumpet’s call. The sounds, more often that not, are quieter ones, product of a thousand miniature, consecutive decisions against the easy thing.

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Grace is the self-effacing friend at a gathering, lurking profitably behind the scenes, setting the table and wiping away crumbs when no one is looking. Kindness seeks no limelight, calls no attention to itself, is most contented when the hum of lively conversation seasons the room with its own subtle romance.

Grace has no self-exalting agenda. Rather, kindness gives, levels the path of the other, sets the stage for good things in which it calculates no immediate gain save the satisfaction of its companions. (more…)

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The lips of the wise are to be admired both when they speak and as they remain silent.

The Bible’s proverbial wisdom sees the fruit of wise words augmented by its scarcity. More often than not, the wise prefer not to opine. A wise man must frequently be asked to offer an assessment, his default mode being silent observation. A woman of proverbial stature will from time to time be mistaken for an introvert when in fact she has simply mastered self-restraint.

On the lips of one who has understanding wisdom is found,
but a rod is for the back of one who lacks sense.
The wise lay up knowledge,
but the babbling of a fool brings ruin near.

Here the wise person’s words are a reservoir of discernment over, to be sought out with reverentially. In contrast the fool’s much larger body part—his back—cries out to be beat upon.

Likewise the wise incrementally adds to his storehouse of wisdom by not spending words at the drop of a hat. The fool’s babbling has destructive consequence. The silence of the wise augurs a time when he will have something to give, even in the lean years when wisdom is scarce.

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Trying to remember the lies we’ve told consumes the available mental bandwidth and renders us incapable of creative, productive, trusting living. Energies that would otherwise be dedicated to service, planning, or doxology are directed at the unsustainable task of keeping untold tales under wraps:

Whoever walks in integrity walks securely,
but whoever follows perverse ways will be found out.

Simplicity, on the other hand, generates security. The proverb calls it integrity, but it comes down to the chosen non-complexity of living in just one way. With no parallel lives to recall, no tracks to cover, one walks straight and well.

One whistles a tune, content with one’s single path through the woods. There is time enough to notice the leaves emerging, for simplicity does not distract. It frees.

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Wisdom is not so much elusive as hard-won. She cries out in the street far more than she hides in a closet. She is more often mistaken for an unappealing passerby than undiscovered by desperate pursuers. Her beauty is washed out in the neon glare of cheaper glories.

Discovering the life that is in her requires concentration and industry. To the degree that the attention span of her would-be lover is short, she is inaccessible.

Her life and love are costly, demanding that degree of self-sacrifice of which casual paramours are by definition incapable. (more…)

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How great would it be if maturity could take its shape without us first walking the painful mile? Or if love did not insist upon the improvement of its object?

That would be the life! Or at the least it would seem to be so for a season before the mildewed scent of its mediocrity filled the room. (more…)

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The biblical proverbs owe a portion of their potency to what we might call the shock-and-recognize phenomenon. The pithy statements that are the warp and woof of this wisdom anthology are capable of startling with the apparent novelty of a declaration, then allowing the reader to settle back into the realization that, yes, he always felt that way but wouldn’t have found the words to say so. (more…)

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