John 15:1-11
By: Nils Chittenden
It was the English writer and raconteur Miles Kington who said, “Knowledge is knowing a tomato is a fruit, wisdom is not putting it in your fruit salad.” Not only is it drily witty, but it says something very important about knowledge. In and of itself, knowledge is inert. It’s just facts. It’s neither good nor bad. It’s what we do with it that counts. Knowledge is nothing without wisdom.
But equally, wisdom is nothing without knowledge. We all have the capacity for wisdom, latent deep within us. But without any knowledge to apply it to, it stays just that: latent.
In today’s reading from St John’s gospel, Jesus refers to himself as the “true vine.” Despite its rather prosaic and mystical language, this passage actually contains a lot of facts, but because most of us no longer live an agrarian life, Jesus’ words don’t have the same impact on us that they would have had on the original hearers, the disciples.
Jesus’ disciples lived in an agricultural subsistence economy. They knew how to look after crops, and how to get the biggest yield from them. They knew how to prune, and what good vines looked like. Jesus simply states the obvious about a first-century cash crop as a way of illustrating more complex insights into his nature and his relationship to God and to his disciples; they get it because they have the knowledge in the first place and can interpret it wisely.
The Bible is truly a wonderful gift, but the fact is that our generations aren’t equipped with the same set of knowledge as the people who first heard its stories, poems and histories. Jesus’ stories have lost some of their immediacy and vividness for us because we simply don’t have the same knowledge as first-century Palestinians. For most of us, growing vines isn’t exactly everyday stuff.
This point was vividly illustrated to me a couple of months ago when I visited the Holy Land. Actually being on the ground where Jesus stood – right there – made the Bible all of a sudden go from gray-scale into millions of colors that saturated my understanding. Standing in a shepherd’s cave in Bethlehem and learning how they actually did their shepherding – all the seemingly trivial, practical details – helped me comprehend Jesus’ words about being the ‘Good Shepherd’ far more than my many years of formal theological education.
Alexander Pope, another English writer, said “A little knowledge is a dangerous thing.” (Actually, he said, “A little learning is a dangerous thing,” but I prefer my version.) If we don’t have all the facts and we try using our wisdom to make judgments then things can quickly turn into a big old mess. We’re all guilty of making judgments too hastily and casually, like pointing out someone’s failings without knowing their whole story.
This Lent I’m going to aim to look at the whole picture, not just a bit of it. And I’m going to try getting more facts before I draw conclusions. And I know that I’ll be the wiser for it.
Heavenly Father, protect me from the sin of easy and simplistic conclusions that judge people and situations without knowing the real truth behind them. Help me to see the whole picture and not just the parts that provoke my curiosity or my indignation. Encourage me to put myself in other people’s shoes and see where they’ve come from. Inspire me with wisdom, like yours, that always leads to compassion and love. In Jesus’ name we pray. Amen.