The Book of Ecclesiasticus, also known as Ben Sira, or Sirach, has been tremendously influential in the spirituality of Catholics: it is thought that it was given the name Ecclesiasticus or “pertaining to the Church,” because it was so often read in the Church.
There is a remarkable prologue to Ecclesiasticus, written by a man named Jesus, who was the Son of Sirach, himself the son of Jesus, and this Jesus – the grandfather of the prologue writer – was the author of the book. He tells us that he was living in Egypt, found his grandfather’s book, and decided to translate it from Hebrew into Greek. The younger man tells us:
… my grandfather Jesus, when he had much given himself to the reading of the law, and the prophets, and other books of our fathers … was drawn to write something himself pertaining to learning and wisdom; to the intent that those which are desirous to learn, and are addicted to these things, might profit much more in living according to the law. Wherefore let me intreat you to read it with favour and attention, and to pardon us, wherein we may seem to come short of some words, which we have laboured to interpret. For the same things uttered in Hebrew, and translated into another tongue, have not the same force in them: and not only these things, but the law itself, and the prophets, and the rest of the books, have no small difference, when they are spoken in their own language. … All wisdom cometh from the Lord, and is with him for ever. (KJV)
The book is thought to have been written by 175BC. The translation must have been made about 40 years afterwards. The book cannot be accused of dawdling: it opens strongly:
Who can number the sand of the sea, and the drops of rain, and the days of eternity? Who can find out the height of heaven, and the breadth of the earth, and the deep, and wisdom? Wisdom has been created before all things, and the understanding of prudence from everlasting. The word of God most high is the fountain of wisdom; and her ways are everlasting commandments. (1:2-5)
This is true to the Wisdom tradition, which would appear to be a literary tradition at the time Ecclesiasticus was written. These sentiments can be placed alongside any of the Wisdom Books. So too, what is said about the creation of Wisdom and the fear of the Lord not only continues but develops the Wisdom tradition:
There is one wise and greatly to be feared (phoberos), the Lord sitting upon his throne. He created her (meaning Wisdom), and saw her, and numbered her, and poured her out upon all his works. She is with all flesh according to his gift, and he hath given her to them that love him. The fear of the Lord is honour, and glory, and gladness, and a crown of rejoicing. The fear of the Lord makes a merry heart, and gives joy, and gladness, and a long life. Whoso fears the Lord, it shall go well with him at the last, and he shall find favour in the day of his death. To fear the Lord is the beginning of wisdom: and it was created with the faithful in the womb.
This is quite extraordinary: it is clear from the Greek that it means that God is the Wise One, and that all else who have any wisdom have it from Him. Note, too, how God’s invoking fear is a natural and necessary aspect of His being, for the word phoberos has the basic meaning of “causing fear.” One fears when coming into contact with what is beyond our power, and if it is beyond our power and our understanding alike, then the fear is greater. I have dealt with this in earlier podcasts, but I can add this: if one does not have some fear of God, albeit mingled with other feelings, then one has not really been close enough to Him; just as one might not fear the power of the sun while sitting in an air-conditioned office, but take him to the desert, and then see. Because we are as we are, our feelings will be mixed, and will change, one into the other, and this will cause other emotions to arise.
In this case, the fear of God will lead to joy. How can this be? Let us take just one possible scenario: when I am reminded me of my smallness, weakness, and above all of my sin, I realise how deserving of suffering I am, and if I am honest, I could understand how I might be condemned to an eternity of wailing and gnashing of teeth. But I also learn that God is just, and beyond that, merciful. Then, to the degree that I am penitent and remorseful, I can begin to change (even if a truer way of speaking of it is to say that I come under the Laws of God, and I experience the salvific changes at work in me). In this way, my fear of God leads me to have confidence in His justice and mercy. My remorse, that is, the life of my conscience and the fact that I cease to behave as badly as I used to, is a reminder that change, and with it, the salvation of my soul is indeed possible. I do not despair, although I never cease to fear until I hear Him calling me into His presence, because my fear of God has taught me to learn from my judge.
At the end of this remarkable passage, we learn that there is wisdom in all of God’s works, and no human being is entirely without out, even from our conception in our wombs. In today’s vocabulary, we might say that there is intelligence or information inherent in the creation, although neither of those terms comes up to “wisdom” as an expression of the divine quality of this intelligence and its engagement with our lives. This is another matter which distinguishes wisdom from intelligence and knowledge: wisdom inherently presupposes an engagement with the situations and circumstances of life; while intelligence and knowledge can be confined to purely theoretical problems and their solution.
to be continued