Wisdom of Solomon (a.k.a. Book of Wisdom)
Think of the Wisdom of Solomon as a mash‑up between a sermon, a philosophy lecture, and a motivational TED Talk delivered by someone who really wants you to know that wisdom is the ultimate life hack. It opens with a warning to rulers: play fair or get wrecked. Then Solomon himself steps in, waxing poetic about how wisdom is basically the divine Wi‑Fi signal that keeps him connected to God’s cosmic operating system. The final act is a retelling of the Exodus, where the Egyptians get dunked on repeatedly while Israel struts out of bondage like the heroes of a revenge flick. Wisdom here isn’t just “be smart”; it’s a radiant, feminine force that makes the righteous glow and the wicked choke on their own hubris.
As for why it’s apocryphal – well, blame the language barrier and the editorial committee. The book was written in Greek, not Hebrew, which meant the Jewish canon gave it the cold shoulder. Catholics and Orthodox Christians later scooped it up from the Septuagint, treating it like a lost gem, while Protestants sniffed and tossed it into the “apocrypha” bin with the other oddballs. So its fate is basically that of an ancient literary orphan: too Greek for the rabbis, too mystical for the reformers, but irresistible to anyone who likes their scripture with a dash of philosophy and a side of cosmic smack‑talk.
- Solomon opens with a challenge to the judges of the nation. Be pure of heart, use wisdom in making decisions, and be just. And why? Not because it’s the right thing to do, but he then dives into a litany of just how bad things would be for said judges when the divine judgment day rolls around and they’re found to be foolish, or worse, evil, in their judicial history. God has a naughty versus nice list.
- Basically, Solomon wrote Dust in the Wind in this chapter. We are here fleetingly, and when we’re gone, we disappear, other than in the memories of those we leave behind. So why not enjoy life while we’re here, treat people well, don’t do evil stuff, and leave a good memory.
- Initially, a fairly straightforward look at the destiny of the righteous versus the wicked. The former, when they pass on, may be thought of as being in a better place, and receiving heavenly blessings and gifts, the latter, condemned to an eternity of punishment. This, I’d note, pretty much confirms that this was written far later, as Judaism didn’t have a concept of eternal heaven or hell until Christianity popped up. Where it then veers off is that Solomon then opines that the children of righteous folk will be treated as righteous, and the children of the wicked will be treated as wicked – no personal accountability, which is not in keeping with Jewish tradition.
- Wow, Solomon really didn’t think much of children. He asserted that it would be better that wicked folk not be allowed to have children, and remain childless, and that that would include anyone involved in an illicit relationship (adultery, for example), because the children would grow up to perpetuate the same, as sure as he was standing there delivering his opinion, and the world would be a better place without them. He accords them no agency, personal ethics, or free will – if you come from bad stock, you’re going to be a bad seed.
- Righteous folk live on forever in God’s grace, and become, after death, a part of his army against wickedness. The wicked… don’t. Why does God need an army of dead souls to fight wickedness if he’s all powerful?
- Solomon pivots to the kings and other leaders of the nations. Similar to the opening chapter, he exhorts them to seek Wisdom, by being eager to learn and understand, and become better rulers. And just as an added stick to that vague carrot, he reminds them that God is always watching, keeping track, and if they’re lousy, or evil rulers, he’s going to pop up one day and they better watch out.
- Solomon recognizes that he, as a king, is subject to all the musings he’s just been having. After all, king or not, he was born the exact same way as any other human being. He acknowledges that he has the privilege not just of being king, but of having been granted wisdom, or in his metaphor, the female embodiment, Wisdom, whose virtues he then extols as his guiding light.
- Continuing to extol the virtues of Wisdom, embodied by his imagined female companion, Solomon basically writes an ode to cohabitation with her. Creating what amounts to a marriage, or at least a loving partnership, he imagines that all other rulers would defer to his judgment because of how she inspires him. Behind every successful man, and all that.
- Solomon recites a prayer to be granted wisdom, and access to Wisdom, the embodiment of the concept. That’s it.
- Wisdom, Solomon opines, has guided those who trusted her through their trials and tribulations – be it Adam dominating the birds and beasts in Eden (until abandoning Wisdom and losing it all) to Joseph sold into servitude yet prospering, to the Israelites breaking out of slavery in Egypt. And, likewise, the downfall of many a person who has abandoned their trust in her – from Cain to Lot’s wife to the wholesale events leading to The Flood.
- Solomon’s being very carrot and stick here. He first recounts the exodus of Jews from slavery in Egypt and how Wisdom, as God’s representative, led the decisions of leaders to safely guide them to Israel (albeit taking forty years to do so, which calls into question Wisdom’s map-reading abilities). But he then turns to those who turned away from Wisdom’s guidance (again, it was taking some forty years to get where they were going), and how God sent wild animals to tear them apart. Don’t mess with Wisdom when she’s in the navigator’s seat.
- “Canaanites… bad people. Egyptians… bad people”. All because they didn’t embrace Wisdom, of course. Not your responsibility to fix them, God will sort it out. God will punish them.
- Now this is a fun one. Solomon challenges the peoples of the world who believe in the power of nature, of science – given how beautiful and complex things in nature are, how could they be anything less than creations of a superior being? For him, their beauty and intricacy are proof of a higher power, no matter what investigations might say. And then he trashes idolators for thinking they could make something that would have that level of power.
- Solomon has two takes on idol worship to share with us today. The first, is his musing about why one would worship a hand-carved wooden amulet when embarking on a voyage. After all, such a small piece of wood doesn’t compare to the amount of wood found in a wagon or ship. Why not pray to the vessel, which, if wood is a connection to the divine, clearly has more of it to worship? And second, he asserts that idol worship leads to sexual immorality, as worshippers, in his view, begin to make vows and promises that take away from their focus on living good, moral, and pure lives. That seems a bit of an assumption, perhaps based on one or another particular idol worshiping cult.
- The worship of God, Solomon avers, creates the root of immortality, the possibility of living forever (not on earth, but cosmically). The worship of idols, instead, roots one’s soul in the clay, the dirt, the ore, that it is fashioned from, and one’s soul will root itself in nothing but that. Oh yeah, and worshipping snakes is really, really icky.
- As hellfire, brimstone, ice, and snow, locusts and flies, fall upon the Egyptians and other enemies, apparently God provides plates of beautifully prepared, delicious quail for those who have put their faith in him and Wisdom. All I can picture is Solomon on the terrace of his castle, dining on quail and looking out over a field of divine destruction.
- Solomon continues his litany against the Egyptians, chastising them for their arrogance in believing that they could enslave another people (the Jews) and expect to get away with. God visits terror upon them in the night.
- Ah, the death of the firstborn Egyptian sons. Solomon waxes poetic over the justice served by God to the evil Egyptians, destroying their lineages in such numbers that they would never recover. But wait, there’s more… for any pursuing Egyptians, more death awaits along the path. When we think of this plague, we probably think “firstborn son” equals “child”. No. This was the loss of any Egyptian male who was the eldest son in his generation, be he an infant, child, teen, young adult, father, grandfather… each family would have lost many.
- Yes, we finish off this book with God’s wholesale slaughter of the Egyptians who follow the Israelites into the desert. The whole parting of the Red Sea, land animals swimming, sea animals walking, Israelites walking, Egyptians drowning. It’s all there, and he finishes with a flowery version of “Amen”.