By DONALD DeMARCO
It is becoming more evident day by day that the “wisdom” of the world is the perfect antithesis of what it claims to be. Feminist icon Gloria Steinem recently stated on NBC’s Today show that pro-life activists are comparable to Nazis and “are pulling a page out of Hitler’s playbook.” The governor of New York has approved abortion up until birth as well as commercial surrogacy. Democrats have approved infanticide for children who survive abortion. A sex-education curriculum in Canada omits love, commitment, self-control, faithfulness, and marriage. “Men” — that is, transgendered women — can now have abortions.
We are witnessing what scholar Anthony Esolen has characterized as “a kind of stupidity that surpasses the capacity of unaided nature to confer.” Our fallen nature, as Church teaching has consistently taught, has this unfortunate potential for unbounded foolishness. This is a point that did not escape the attention of Albert Einstein. “Two things are infinite,” he noted, “the universe and human stupidity; and I’m not sure about the universe.”
In this dark and calamitous hour, we will find real wisdom in the letters of St. Paul. But we will also find the wisdom of God in Paul’s conversion. As we know, Saul (before he was named Paul) was converted to Christianity on his way to Damascus. A light from Heaven flashed about him and knocked him to the ground. He heard a voice saying to him, “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?” When he asked who was speaking to him, he heard, “I am Jesus, whom you persecute. But arise and go into the city, and it shall be told to you what you must do.”
The moment of Paul’s conversion was also the moment in which he was given his mission. Paul got to his feet but discovered that he could not see. He was, therefore, led by the hand into Damascus where he spent three days without seeing, eating, or drinking. This period would be his Purgatory, perhaps his dark night of the soul, where he would experience his complete dependence on God. The Catholic poet Thomas Traherne stated: “A Christian is an oak flourishing in winter.” St. Paul’s triduum was his brief winter when he was being strengthened while being relatively inactive.
A disciple named Ananias lived in Damascus. In a dream, God said to him, “Arise, and go into the street which is called Straight, and seek in the house of Judas one Saul, from Tarsus, for behold, he is praying.” Ananias hesitated since he knew about Saul’s reputation. Then God said to him, “Go, for thus man is a chosen vessel to men to carry my name among nations and kings and the children of Israel. For I will show him how much he must suffer for my name” (Acts 9).
Ananias laid hands upon Saul and said, “Because Brother Saul, the Lord hath sent me — Jesus, who appeared to you on your journey — that you may recover your sight and be filled with the Holy Spirit.”
Upon hearing these words, something like scales fell from Saul’s eyes, and he recovered his sight. He was baptized and, after taking some food, regained his strength. He proceeded to preach that Jesus is the Son of God.
“And all who heard him were amazed . . . and Saul grew all the stronger and confounded the Jews who were living in Damascus, proving that this is the Christ.”
The wisdom that Paul proclaimed was certainly not the wisdom of the world. But it was a stumbling block for all those who measured things divine on a human scale. His message of salvation through the cross of Christ was counter to what men of the world preferred to believe. “I will destroy the wisdom of the wise,” he exclaimed. “Has God not turned to folly the wisdom of the world?” (1 Cor. 1).
The Jews had expected the Messiah to arrive in a splendid and triumphant manner. The Greeks believed that the highest wisdom is achieved through philosophy alone. Yet, “the folly of God is wiser than men, and stronger than men is His weakness” (ibid.). The great paradox here is that God chooses the weak to build what is wise and strong.
G.K. Chesterton translated Paul’s words into a modern idiom when he wrote the following: “When it [civilization] wants a library catalogued, or the solar system discovered, or any trifle of that kind, it uses up its specialists. But when it wishes anything done which is really serious, it collects twelve of the ordinary men standing round. The same thing was done, if I remember right, by the Founder of Christianity” (Tremendous Trifles).
Apart from Christ Himself, the two greatest leaders of souls that history has recorded are Moses and St. Paul. Both were Jews who spoke with God. Both were hampered by personal weaknesses. Both trembled at the enormity of their missions. But it was in their weaknesses that the power of God was made manifest.
The wisdom of which we speak, declared Paul, is “a wisdom, indeed, not of this world, nor of the rulers of this world, who are tottering to their fall. Rather, we speak of the wisdom of God embodied in a mystery, that hidden wisdom which God devised before the ages unto our glory; a wisdom which none of the rulers if this world has come to know” (1 Cor. 2).
We are created out of nothing. Our nothingness should inspire deep humility. Yet, there is great hope for all of us. Despite our humble genesis and our embarrassing finitude, we can, thanks to the grace of God, achieve the wisdom that allows us to “be filled with all the fullness of God” (Eph. 3).
(Dr. Donald DeMarco’s latest two books, How to Navigate Through Life and Apostles of the Culture of Life, are posted on amazon.com.)
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