This Sunday, the last of four Sundays the theme of which is bread, stresses the relationship between bread and wisdom, the relationship between bread and truth. Jesus explains this connection, as he, in fact, is the connection: “I am the living bread the came down from heaven….my flesh is true food and my blood is true drink.” Jesus’ personal presence is the truth that underlies all that is truthful, the wisdom at the heart of all that is wise. When we feed on him in the Eucharist, we feed on the true bread that gives, as Luther said, forgiveness of sin, life, and salvation. Forgiveness of sin, life and salvation in Christ are truth and wisdom personified. Thus truth and wisdom are not vague ideals. They are bound up with a person, i.e., with Jesus’ own body and blood. Truth and wisdom are not subjective mindgames open to moral speculation, but are rooted in a specific word of judgment and promise, the word by which everything was created, the word made flesh. “And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.” Truth is a personal decision—not our decision, but God’s decision about his creation and thus about Israel and about us in Jesus Christ. God himself defines what is good and right and true. Wisdom is the Creator’s intention for his creation made absolute in his covenant with his people Israel, a covenant extended to all peoples, tribes, and nations in Jesus’ resurrection from the dead.

That the person in question is Jesus Christ and not someone else; that the person we are talking about is Israel’s crucified redeemer, the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world, who cancels sin and destroys death, shapes the very defintion of truth. It matters who it is that personifies truth and wisdom. It makes all the difference in the world. That the person in question is Jesus of Nazareth, and not, say, Hitler or Pol Pot, means that truth and wisdom are not death-dealing expressions of hatred, as we sometimes think when we are hopeless and cynical. That it is Jesus who embodies wisdom reveals truth to be God’s infinite store of love, grace and salvation for the lost, the forsaken and the damned. A new life of blessing awaits the one who feasts on the true bread from heaven. “Whoever eats of this bread will live forever; and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh,” and”the one who eats this bread will live forever.”

Earlier in Israel’s widsom tradition, a tradition exemplified by the book of Proverbs, wisdom was personified as a woman. We should not be distracted by the gender issue here. The point is that already in Israel’s thought and lore, wisdom had been personified. Today we hear her appeal in our first reading as she extends the following invitation: “Come,” she says, “eat of my bread and drink of the wine that I have mixed. Lay aside immaturity and live, and walk in the way of insight.” It is this same invitation Jesus makes, incorporating in his own person this entire wisdom tradition of Israel, proclaiming himself to be the very embodiment of truth.

Truth and wisdom, therefore, do not come naturally. No one is born wise. Actually we are all born immature. Truth and wisdom can only be imparted, given, bestowed, granted. Truth and wisdom, moreover—and this is an extremely important point--are historically conditioned. Truth and wisdom derive their meaning and power from the history of God’s dealings with his people Israel. Truth and wisdom—all truth and wisdom ultimately if the gospel is true--are bound up with that history. If, therefore, we are to become wise, we must be open to the lessons of that history. It is precisely as one is taught and reflects on the word and ways of God with his people Israel and the church, that true wisdom is acquired. That wisdom comes from long and hard experience and from lessons learned is something we all know. That it comes essentially from the scriptures and traditions of Israel and the church is something I’m suggesting we should at least consider. True, this wisdom is not the only word that is wise; but inasmuch as it will have the last word, if Jesus has been raised, then when literally all has been said and done, its power and effectiveness will surprize not a few.

One of the problems we inevitably run into this side of the final judgment is that everyone claims to be wise, in his/her own way. Today it is a commonplace that there are many truths, and thus many kinds of wisdom. This is especially true within the church where it is always precisely the truth that is in question and at stake. Many major debates are going on right now—and you can pick your topic--pitting one version of truth, and thus one type of wisdom, against another. It is clear that for most people in the church who must weigh these competing truth-claims, it is becoming extremely difficult to discern which claimant is in fact the wiser—and so we have no recourse but to divide into camps. The persistent call and plea for church unity is in fact, and sadly, a sign of our growing divisions. But this is always the case when it comes to religion. Note that I used the word “religion” and not church or Christian faith. I’m talking about religion in general, as the common human striving after God, even if today we don’t always refer to that goal as “god.” A highly-respected Lutheran theologian comments on this phenomenon by looking criticially at what he calls “religiousity.” He uses the word “religiousity” to refer to the general human phenomenon of trying to find ultimate meaning, i.e., some sort of god. He is very critical of religiosity’s penchant for finding all kinds of truths under all kinds of bushes. The main problem is what he calls “human religiosity’s univerally followed path of least resistance” [Jenson, Ezekiel]. He says: “Humanity’s ability ‘to believe six incompatible things before breakfast’ becomes almost a defining characteristic when it comes to religion. Never mind if, for example, the Lord and Moloch [Moloch was a god to whom children were sacrificed] are declared opposites, we will, if given the chance, worship both at once—and whatever else seems powerful in the neighborhood.” The situation can be remedied, “this theologian claims, “only if the one God himself imposes…radical judgment and promise of new beginning.”

Note: something new and important has just now been interjected into our discussion about truth. Truth and wisdom imply judgment. If something is true, then something else must be false; if someone is wise, then there are others who are foolish. We also hear that judgment, on the positive side, implies new beginning. If there is a new beginning, then something must come to an end. Truth and wisdom, it seems, imply death and resurrection.

Widsom sends out her invitation especially to those who are unwise. Her invitation is already a judgment, but it also contains a promise of something new and better. Her invitation is both judgment and blessing, a blessing perhaps because it is also a judgment. The old world and our old ways must come to an end, and we are invited to accept the offer of a new beginning. “You who are simple, turn in here!” she declares. “To those without sense she says, ‘Come, eat of my bread and drink of the wine that I have mixed. Lay aside immaturity, and live, and walk in the way of insight.’”

Our Lord invites us to his feast, where we receive the bread of life, his own life-giving body and blood. He invites all to come, the poor in spirit, those who hunger for righteousness, the immature, the sick at heart, the foolish, and the pompous. He invites us to lay aside our immaturity that puffs up and creates division and spreads falsehoods and tells lies. He invites us to lay aside our immaturity that can only bring about our destruction. Then, when we eat of his bread, he says, we shall live and we shall walk not in the darkness, but in the light, in the way of insight, truth, and faith.

-Amen-