I Do Not Know

Finding wisdom in the midst of ignorance

04/16/2021

John 6:1-15 Jesus went across the Sea of Galilee. A large crowd followed him, because they saw the signs he was performing on the sick. When Jesus raised his eyes and saw that a large crowd was coming to him, he said to Philip, “Where can we buy enough food for them to eat?” He said this to test him, because he himself knew what he was going to do. Philip answered him, “Two hundred days’ wages worth of food would not be enough for each of them to have a little.” One of his disciples, Andrew, the brother of Simon Peter, said to him, “There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish; but what good are these for so many?” Jesus said, “Have the people recline.” Now there was a great deal of grass in that place. So the men reclined, about five thousand in number. Then Jesus took the loaves, gave thanks, and distributed them to those who were reclining, and also as much of the fish as they wanted. When they had had their fill, he said to his disciples, “Gather the fragments left over, so that nothing will be wasted.” So they collected them, and filled twelve wicker baskets with fragments from the five barley loaves that had been more than they could eat.

Good teachers teach not only by giving answers but also by asking questions. Why is that? (Notice the question.) Well, it is only when students are aware of their ignorance that they are ready for wisdom. The Greek philosopher Plato simply asked his students questions to help them discover their ignorance. His writings are called “The Dialogues” because it is filled with his innumerable questions put to his students that inspired their dialogues. His own personal motto was: “The only thing I know is that I do not know.” When we think we know it all, we feel we cannot learn any more. One of the hardest things to say is the sentence, “I do not know.” But it is also one of the wisest things to say because only then are we ready to learn something new.

In the gospel today Jesus begins his greatest lesson in John on the Eucharist with a question. He asked Philip: “Where can we buy enough food for them to eat?” Do you remember his reply? “Philip answered him, ‘Two hundred days’ wages worth of food would not be enough for each of them to have a little.’” Why do you suppose Jesus asked Philip that question? Was Jesus perplexed peering at all the people and worried about how on earth they were going to feed them all? No. John explains Jesus’ motivation: “He said this to test him, because he himself know what he was going to do.”

Like a master teacher, far greater than Plato, Jesus was helping Philip and the other apostles discover their ignorance and insufficiency to deal with unsolvable riddles and unsupportable realities. When they finally admitted, “I do not know,” only then could Jesus perform his great miracle of the multiplication of the loaves and fish, the precursor to the Eucharist, where Jesus would become the Bread that gives life to the world. Only when we admit our ignorance are we ready for God’s wisdom; only when we recognize our weakness are we prepared to experience God’s power.

My friends, sooner or later we all face situations that overwhelm us, where we find we are ignorant and we feel we are insufficient. How do we help our grown children who have left the Church and no longer practice their faith? Where do we find the solution for our personal financial crises when we lose a job? What shall we do when we are struck with a sudden and serious sickness like pancreatic cancer, or struggle with the physical and mental decline of old age? How do we fight and deal with the failures of overcoming chronic sins and bad habits like addictions to alcohol, drugs, sex and gambling? Why does a good and loving God allow such suffering and feelings of defeat and discouragement? Well, the answer is, “I do not know.”

But St. Paul faced a similar situation of some chronic sin or weakness which he called “a thorn in the flesh” (2 Cor 12:7). And here is his answer to why God gave him that struggle. It is passage well worth meditating on and maybe memorizing. St. Paul humbly confessed: “Three times I begged the Lord about this, that it might leave me, but he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.’” And Paul goes on to do what Plato and Jesus hoped their students would learn to do, saying: “I will rather boast most gladly of my weaknesses, in order that the power of Christ may dwell with me.” And then he concluded: “Therefore, I am content with weakness, insults, hardships, persecutions, and constraints, for the sake of Christ, for when I am weak, then I am strong.”

When I was first ordained a priest and assigned to my first parish, I was terrified someone would ask me a question for which I did not know the answer. After all, what did I learn in eight years of seminary and two years in canon law school? I learned that more often than not, the best answer is, “I do not know.”

Praised be Jesus Christ!