Wishing for Wisdom

When I was a little girl, I used to be fascinated with the story of Aladdin. I loved how he found a magic lamp and when he rubbed the lamp, a genie would pop out and grant him three wishes. I would play the genie game over again with my cousins. We would rub the lamp and the genie would pop out and the question was always, "What do you wish?"

In a similar way, God visited King Solomon thousands of years ago. His father David died after forty years on the throne. Solomon assumed the throne of a thriving, united kingdom. He was a good man, a solid man, careful and humble. He was so beloved of God and of the people, that God came to him to grant him a wish.

"Solomon, what is the one thing that you would ask of me? Ask and I will grant it." God says.

What would you ask for if you were Solomon, if God would come to you and ask you for anything? What is your hearts desire?

Solomon asks for something incredibly profound. He asks for discernment, for the ability to see and to understand. Solomon wants to be able to distinguish between good and evil. He wants to see more clearly.

The word for wisdom in the ancient Hebrew means to hear, to take in, to perceive. The Hebrew understanding of wisdom does not have anything to do with what you know or how many facts you can keep in your head. For the Hebrews, wisdom has to do with how well you can see.

When Mike May was three years old, a chemical explosion left him completely blind. He did not want his blindness to prevent him from living fully so he became the best blind downhill speed skier in the world. He married, had children and even ran a successful business. Forty-three years after his accident, he heard about a new surgical procedure that would restore his sight. Even though he had a full life, Mike could not wait to see again. He decided to have the surgery.

His family and friends decided to film Mike on the moment that they took the bandages off his eyes. His boys were going to walk towards him and he was going to see their faces for the first time in his life. They would record his reactions on film.

Everyone thought that it would be the most beautiful moment, when a father looks on the faces of his children, but something was off. Mike had a pleasant but forced smile on his face as his children approached him. There was a major problem. Although Mike's eyes were working properly, he was staring with total puzzlement at the world around him. His brain did not know what to make of the barrage of information, colors, shapes, light. Although his eyes were functioning, he could not make sense of what he was seeing. He could not see.

Think about it. Mike was like a newborn baby, taking in all this stuff at once. And he had learned by touching that walls move in a straight line so how was he to make sense of the fact that lines converged at a distance because of something called perspective? He had to learn how to interpret what his eyes were telling him.

We open our eyes most of the day. We take in images, sounds, but these impressions then go into our brains where they are interpreted. And if we are not careful, our brains do not truly see. Especially when we are viewing places that we frequent or loved ones whose faces we know well, we tend to forget to look. Our brain says, yes, I know that one, check. And we do not see clearly.

What Solomon asked was for the ability to open his mind to new input, to take in each new moment with fascination and with objectivity. He wanted to be able to see the difference between light and darkness, goodness and evil. He believed that this kind of careful observation was the essence of wisdom.

That means that if we want to be wise, we should not be so certain. Instead we should look with fresh eyes at everything each day, at our loved ones, at the events of our lives, at the tiniest flower, and with each new perspective, we should wonder what God is saying to us.

One of my favorite quotations of all time was spoken by a Hindu sage. When talking to his student, he said, "Don't seek God, see God,"

The question is not whether or not God exists, the question is whether or not you can perceive God. Or have you already made up your mind about how your life is working? Certainty, predictability, these things are comforting, but they are not so good for the spiritual life. For they tend to put us to sleep. Wisdom rests in the ability to stay awake and to look with fresh eyes at the world that God has made, the world that God has asked us to care for.

Jesus tells us that this stuff we eat up here at the altar is his body and blood. What does that mean? How can we open our eyes to what he was trying to tell us? Sometimes, I catch a glimpse of this gift and I cannot believe it, I cannot imagine something more generous, more beautiful that for God to give us a portion of His/Her very self.

If we could only see what it is that we have got here, what has been given to us, then there would be no evangelism, people would be lining the streets trying to get in here, to get some of the break, a sip of the wine, a portion of the very presence of God.

Years ago, a three-year-old girl in one of my parishes got busy in the nursery playing. She was so intent on her dolls and so happy that he mom decided not to disrupt her and did not bring her to communion. When the service was over and her mom went to get her, she started to weep uncontrollably. She could hardly get a word out. Finally, she sobbed, "I MISSED MUNION!!"

I heard her crying over missing "MUNION" and I was thrilled. We went to the tabernacle and got her some of the reserve sacrament and all the while, I was thinking, "This little one sees something here, she really sees something." I wish that that grow ups would cry when they missed MUNION.

Open your eyes. Do you see what has been given to you? It is too bright, too good to take in at once.

Sometimes, I wonder if angels and archangels are dancing right in front of our eyes, but we cannot see them because we have not yet learned how to open our eyes.

What would I wish for? It's right here, at this altar. I would wish to take communion with you.

- The Very Rev. Kate Moorehead