A homily for the Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, July 30, 2023
1 Kgs 3:5, 7-12, Rom 8:28-30, Mt 13:44-52
It all started with Classics Illustrated.
As all good parents do, my folks always brought my brothers and me some small gifts from their Florida vacations away from us — usually orange marmalade, stuffed baby alligators (cool at the time; not so much now), tropical candies and, for me, a Classics Illustrated version of some novel I hadn’t yet read.
If you’re not familiar with Classics Illustrated, here’s the Wikipedia entry:
Classics Illustrated is an American comic book/magazine series featuring adaptations of literary classics such as Les Misérables, Moby-Dick, Hamlet, and The Iliad. Created by Albert Kanter, the series began publication in 1941 and finished its first run in 1969, producing 169 issues.
Over the years, I accumulated dozens, both as gifts and as purchases on my own. When DC Comics were a dime or 12 cents, Classics Illustrated went for 15, 20, 25 cents or more, especially toward the end of their run.
And especially after literature students started snatching them up because they were cheaper and more colorful than Cliff’s Notes.
The original intent of Classics Illustrated, according to their creator and first publisher, was to entice young people to read important books in a comics format, in the hopes that the characters and storyline would intrigue them (us) enough to crack open a hardcover.
In fact, every Classics Illustrated ended with a plea: “Now that you have read the Classics Illustrated edition, don’t miss the enjoyment of reading the original, obtainable at your school or public library.”
I took up the challenge.
The Acme in Lincroft sold encyclopedias — yes, Funk and Wagnall’s, as well as Collier’s — and, for 50 cents each (as I recall), hardcover public-domain books by Robert Louis Stevenson, H.G. Wells, Hans Christian Andersen, The Brothers Grimm, and many more. I filched a free-standing bookcase from our rec room and loaded all four shelves. Thank you, Mom, for indulging my hunger for words on the page.
Now that I had read the Classics Illustrated editions, I savored the enjoyment of reading the originals.
Then came the Bible, even though pre-Vatican II Catholics were discouraged from reading it cover-to-cover. (I tried to convince the local rabbi’s son that because our Bible had a New Testament, he should convert to Catholicism. No such luck.)
Next, my uncle, a teacher who doubled as a textbook salesman in the summer, passed along his samples, which I devoured. Our family bought the green-and-white leatherette World Book Encyclopedia two or three volumes a month, and then subscribed to the Yearbooks almost until the end of the 20th century.
I was exposed to earthly wisdom by the literal ton. I inhaled it.
Of course, thanks to great teachers and the Holy Spirit, I did eventually realize the true, ultimate source of all this wise-ness.
The same divine, loving source as Solomon’s wisdom.
God promised Solomon that he would be wise, that his wisdom would be compassionate, and that his wisdom would be unmatched in all the years to follow.
God showered Solomon with wisdom, planted it in his heart like a garden, nurtured it. Solomon had formal education, but his wisdom also came from within. Much of it developed through his shortening the distance between himself and the people he led.
Wise indeed.
Yes, in our passage from the First Book of Kings, we hear God praising Solomon for his humility and promising Solomon that no one would ever equal him in compassionate wisdom.
That doesn’t mean God doesn’t want us to come close.
Indeed, God does want us to humbly seek out wisdom everywhere and, especially, from everyone.
God wants us to learn our lessons and do our homework, whether we’re in school or whether school is way back in our rear-view mirrors.
God has given each of us unique tools and skills to gather wisdom, and God wants us to use them.
Wisdom enables us to greet our sisters and brothers where they are in their life’s journeys. To recognize their needs. To share their joys and lighten their burdens. To connect with them. To learn from them.
Wisdom enables us to disagree without being disagreeable, to speak truth, God’s Truth … and especially truth to power.
Wisdom enables us to separate fact and truth from fiction and bile, and to call out tribalism and xenophobia and conspiracy theories.
Wisdom enables us to embrace science.
Every day should be a fresh opportunity to learn, to add to our knowledge, to fire up what interests us, to push our way out of complacency and comfort, and to feed our God-given curiosity.
Every day must become a fresh opportunity to increase our wisdom and then use it for the betterment of our fragile planet and all our sisters and brothers.
In the spirit of Solomon.
