The Sundays of August in our lectionary, which focus on John chapter six, begin with the miraculous feeding, with ‘twelve baskets of leftovers’ from the five barley loaves and two fishes thoughtfully provided a young boy. But the chapter ends, interestingly, with John ‘seg-waying’ Jesus into the Synagogue at Capernaum , where he is teaching.

In fact, if you have been following the progress of Jesus in John chapter six this past month, you’ll know that – and a risky thing to say, this – Jesus has got quite repetitive. There has been lots of talk of flesh and blood, true bread, being drawn to God, and the Son of man ascending and descending. I think we can forgive the disciples for being a little puzzled. Yet the story John is giving us is a ‘classic’ framework for teaching: action, followed by reflection, followed by an invitation to practice Jesus’ mission. John tells us that many melt away at this point, with only a few remaining. And Peter, speaking for the others, does not exactly demonstrate comprehension or even willingness, but is honest enough to admit that ‘Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life…’.

The educationalist Peter Melchert tells us that the apprentice ‘begins by watching, performing routine tasks, gradually learning to understand…often this cannot be taught, yet must be learned…some things cannot be transmitted in a purely verbal manner….there are some things that only make sense when they have been mastered…’. This, then, is what our gospel is about. Connecting the miraculous feeding with the bread of life; and learning to participate and abide in the mission of Jesus.

But the teaching of Jesus is far from straightforward. Arguably, what is distinctive about Jesus is the uniquely powerful manifestation of divine Wisdom in his teaching, which is at one his praxis of care, healing, and gathering. His teaching assumes a normative, paradigmatic quality in human history. It simply has the power in a profound way to draw people out of their daily preoccupations and petty provincialisms into an encounter with the eternal: with ultimate truth and value, with unbounded love, with a radical, transformative freedom. Jesus does not set this forth in a series of propositions, laws or theoretical statements.

Rather, very much like Socrates, he engages in conversation with people, forcing them to reflect on their own traditions and to think about their deeper meaning. Rather than offering something totally new, Jesus radicalizes the shared traditions. He is the teacher who brings the Torah alive in such a remarkably powerful and direct way that its implications could not be avoided teaching with an authority that is evident to all who hear him. He is called “Rabbi” or “Teacher”. No wonder Peter says ‘we have come to believe that you are the Holy One of God…’.

 There is, then, something quite profound taking place in this lengthy discourse in John. For here is something to be both caught and taught in gospel, and it is to do with the future shape of the world, transformed by the body and blood of Christ. Not just as nourishment, but also as a form of teaching, or education. To feed on Jesus is to abide in a form of education that is ultimately always shaped by a vision of the nature and possibility of human flourishing. The vision of human flourishing that underlies the whole of this biblical narrative and proclamation is what biblical writers call shalom. Shalom is harmony and delight in all one’s relationships – with God, with other human beings, with culture, with nature, with oneself.

Education, it is sometimes said, is the transmission of civilization. Whilst it is certainly about cleverness and achievement, the ultimate aim of education is the knowledge not of fact, but of values. Bernard of Clairvaux says: ‘there are many who seek knowledge for the sake of knowledge: that is curiosity. (Nothing wrong with that, by the way). There are others who desire to know in order to be known: that is vanity. (Slightly more problematic, I suppose). Other seeks knowledge in order to sell it: that is dishonourable. (I think he has a point here). But others seek knowledge in order to edify others. That is love’.

I want to suggest to you that this is what Jesus is trying to get over to us here. The teaching of Jesus we both receive and participate in is one of the most important and valuable things we can contemplate and act on. The purpose of learning is growth: and our minds, unlike our bodies, can continue growing as we continue to live. In the case of good books, the point is not how many of them you can get through; but rather how many can get through to you. Education is the most powerful weapon with which we have to change the world. And these days, people seem to seek knowledge and not wisdom. But good education is not the filling of a pail, but the lighting of a fire. Good teaching, then, is vital.

So what is to be done about the need for real wisdom in our age? Where can it be found? And how can we participate in culture that is seemingly saturated with knowledge, yet so obviously lacking in the shrewdness, character and virtues that are needed to hold our knowledge? The writer of Ecclesiastes knew very well that much could be taught and learned in life. But without a real and deep education of the character and the heart, an increase in our knowledge was fairly useless. Put more colloquially, I suppose, quality counts for more than quantity. And who knows, perhaps ethical depth more than intellectual breadth. So what of wisdom? And what of all of us, as we both learn and teach?

I suppose the one thing to say about a true education is that it is a progressive and subtle journey. Whatever a church is, it should not be an Educational Boot Camp. As one old rhyme puts it: ‘Ram it in, cram it in, little heads are hollow. Ram it in, cram it in; plenty more to follow’. This won’t do, of course. Because education is not just about learning things by rote. It is also about inspiring; about providing role models; about challenging, subverting and re-shaping. It is has as much to do with teaching us how to ask questions as it does about answers.

Sometimes education is not something that comes from inside. There is much to be said for learning from intuition. And this is why role models are so very important. Because we learn from the character of other people; not just from text books. How to be in the world; to think, act and relate. These things are taught, often, implicitly in ways that are subtle and unremarkable. What motivates and inspires me in my life is the example of others. What is set out and lived in the life of others is what can transform us, and make us into better people ourselves. One Saint, in his own charge to his community, says: ‘go and preach the gospel throughout all the world. If absolutely necessary, use words…’.

A popular story from World War Two tells of a Romanian Christian who found himself imprisoned at Belsen , and deprived of all he needed to sustain his faith: no crucifix, bible, icons, devotional books, corporate worship or knotted prayer beads. So he prayed in secret – that he might respond to the call of love. He found himself spending time in the camp with the sick, the starving, the diseased, the dying and the betrayers – all those who were shunned by others.

One day, as the camp drew close to liberation, an atheist – a priest, in fact, who had his faith shattered by the experience of war – came to see the Romanian and said, ‘I see how you live here. Tell me about the God you worship’. And the Romanian replied: ‘He is like me’. I wonder which of us could reply: ‘he is like me’? You see, in wisdom it is often the example that makes the difference, not the ideas; the praxis, not the theories. And as we think today about the place of education, we remember that no matter how much we learn and no matter what we achieve, the call to live a life of love and character is still the deepest vocation we all share. This is why Jesus, when address, interestingly, as ‘good teacher’, when faced with a test of knowledge – ‘What is the law? What is the greatest commandment? – could reply easily that it was about loving: God with all your heart, soul, mind and strength, and your neighbour as yourself. This is wisdom.

So here is what I want to say by way on conclusion. Wisdom is knowing what to do next; skill is knowing how to do it, and virtue is doing it. Without courage, wisdom bears no fruit. The purpose of wisdom is to discriminate between good and evil. And we often learn wisdom from failure just as much from success. Because we often discover what will do, by finding out what will not do; and probably he or she who never made a mistake has never made a discovery. This explains Jesus’ patient, careful deliberations; he is drawing us in, and drawing us up, just as he has been drawn down. In his life and teaching, he is inviting us to abide in him and participate in this extraordinary initiative of God’s: to reconcile himself to his creation through love, not force.

So in our world today, it is no longer enough to be smart, I think. All the technological tools in the world add meaning and value only if they enhance our core values, and the deepest parts of our hearts. Acquiring knowledge is no guarantee of practical, useful application. Wisdom implies a mature integration of appropriate knowledge; a seasoned ability to filter the inessential from the essential. To know when to be generous and when firm – that is wisdom. To be kind and good is the beginning of wisdom. To know your place before God; that is wisdom.

These things may not seem like much. But when you are wise, you will see that it is pretty well all that matters. Indeed, love is all you need. These are what the words of eternal life are all about. But you need quite a profound kind of education to really appreciate that.

 

contacts & locator | faq's | donations | feedback | disclaimer | privacy

© St John's Cathedral (2010)