Wisdom in Israel’s Story

But an unrighteous man turned away from her in his anger. In a rage he killed his brother, and in that same rage he himself perished. Because of him the earth was drowning in a flood, and wisdom saved it again. She steered the righteous man on nothing more than a piece of wood.

When the nations had joined together in wickedness and been thrown into confusion, wisdom knew a righteous man. She kept him blameless before God, and she kept him strong when his heart went out to his child.

While the ungodly were perishing, wisdom rescued a righteous man as he fled from the fire that came down out of heaven on the five cities. A smoking wasteland still shows how wicked they were. Plants there bear fine fruit that doesn’t ripen, and a soul that did not believe has its memorial: a pillar of salt, still standing. Because those people passed wisdom by, they could no longer recognize what is good. They also left behind a monument to their foolishness, so that where they stumbled, they could not even stay hidden. But wisdom rescued those who served her from their troubles.

When a righteous man was on the run from his brother’s anger, wisdom led him on straight paths. She showed him God’s kingdom and gave him knowledge of holy things. She made his hard work succeed, and she made what it earned him grow many times over.

When greedy men treated him harshly, she stood by him and made him rich. She guarded him from enemies, and she kept him safe when people hid to attack him. When he had a hard struggle, she watched over it as its judge, so that he would know that godliness is stronger than anyone.

When a righteous man was sold, wisdom didn’t abandon him; she rescued him from sin. She went down with him into a dungeon, and she stayed with him in his chains until she brought him a kingdom’s scepter and power over those who had acted like tyrants toward him. She showed that the people who had mocked him and accused him were liars, and she gave him glory that lasts forever.

She rewarded holy people for their hard work. She guided them along a wonderful road; she was a covering for them by day and a starry flame all through the night. She brought them across the Red Sea and led them through all that water, but she drowned their enemies, and she threw them up from the bottom of the sea.

Wisdom made their work go well through a holy prophet. They traveled through a desert empty of people, and pitched their tents in places with no paths. They held out against enemies and drove back foes. When they were thirsty, they called on the Lord. Water was given to them out of flint rock, and out of the hard stone came the cure for their thirst.

The very things that punished their enemies, the book says, were the things that helped them in their need. Instead of a river that never stopped flowing, their enemies were troubled with clotted blood. It was a rebuke for the order to kill the babies. But the Lord gave his people plenty of water, more than they could have hoped for. By the thirst they had suffered, he showed them how he punished their enemies.

Then the book speaks of the peoples who lived in the holy land long before. God hated them, it says, because they did hateful things: magic spells and unholy rituals, the merciless killing of children, and feasts of human flesh and blood at their sacrifices.

But some said that things made by human hands were gods: gold and silver, skillfully worked, and images of animals, or a useless stone shaped by some hand long ago. Those people were miserable, and their hopes were in dead things.

A woodcutter might saw down a tree that is easy to move, skillfully strip away all its bark, and shape it nicely into something useful for everyday life. He burns the scraps left from his work to cook his food, and eats his fill. Then he takes a scrap he threw away, no use for anything, a crooked piece of wood full of knots. He carves it with all the care of a man with nothing else to do, and shapes it with the skill of his idle hours. He makes it into the image of a man, or makes it look like some worthless animal. He coats it with red, paints it red, and smears over every stain in it. He makes a fine place for it, sets it in a wall, and fixes it there with iron. He plans ahead so that it won’t fall down. He knows it can’t help itself: it is an image, after all, and it needs help.

This became an ambush, because people who were slaves to misfortune or to a cruel ruler gave stones and blocks of wood the Name that should be shared with no one.

And the oppressors of God’s people, the book says, even worship the most hateful creatures, which have less sense than any others. Set beside other creatures, they are not beautiful enough for anyone to want them; they have missed out on both God’s praise and his blessing. That is why the oppressors were rightly punished by creatures like the ones they worshiped, and tormented by swarms of pests.

By this God convinced the enemies of his people that he is the one who rescues from every harm. The bites of locusts and flies killed them, and no cure could be found to save their lives, because they deserved to be punished that way. But not even the fangs of venomous snakes overcame God’s children, because his mercy came to where they were and healed them. They were bitten to remind them of his words, and they were quickly saved, so that they wouldn’t sink into deep forgetfulness and be unable to respond to his kindness.

Instead of all that, God gave his people angels’ food to eat. He sent them bread from heaven, ready to eat, and they didn’t have to work for it. It had every pleasant flavor in it and pleased every taste. His nature showed his sweetness toward his children. That bread gave whoever ate it what they wished, and changed itself into whatever each one chose.

They thought their secret sins were hidden, but a dark curtain of forgetfulness divided them from each other. They were struck with terrible dread and badly troubled by ghostly sights. The dark places that held them could not guard them from fears; terrifying sounds rang all around them, and dismal ghostly shapes with unsmiling faces appeared. No fire was strong enough to give light, and even the brightest stars could not light up that gloomy night. Only a fire that lit itself glimmered at them, full of fear. In their terror, they thought the things they saw were worse than the sight they could not look at.

The whole world was lit with clear light and went about its work with nothing to stop it. Over them alone lay a heavy night, a picture of the darkness that would receive them later. But they were a heavier weight to themselves than the darkness was.

But the clashing cries of their enemies echoed back, and a pitiful wailing for children spread far and wide. Servant and master were punished with the same just sentence, and the common man suffered the same as the king. All of them together had more dead than anyone could count, all by one kind of death. There were not even enough people left alive to bury them, because in a single blow their most cherished children were destroyed. Because of their spells they had refused to believe anything, but when their firstborn were destroyed, they admitted that the people were God’s children.

The doom they deserved was pulling them toward this end, and it made them forget what had happened to them. This was so they would suffer the part of their punishment that their torments had not yet brought, and so God’s people would travel a wonderful road while their enemies found a strange death.

The whole creation, each part in its own kind, was made new again, obeying God’s commands, so that his servants would be kept from harm. The cloud was seen shading the camp, and dry land rose out of what had been water. Out of the Red Sea came an open highway, and out of the rough waves a green plain. The people covered by God’s hand crossed over on it with all their army, and saw strange wonders.