Suffering and comfort

Wisdom and Comfort in the Midst of Suffering

Where does wisdom come from in suffering? Sirach reveals an ancient comfort: all wisdom is from the Lord.

BibleVibe Editorial5 min read
TranslationESV
Sirach 1:1-20

Whereas many great teachings have been given to us through the law and the prophets and the others that followed them, on account of which we should praise Israel for instruction and wisdom; and since it is necessary not only that the readers themselves should acquire understanding but also that those who love learning should be able to help the outsiders by both speaking and writing, my grandfather Jesus, after devoting himself especially to the reading of the law and the prophets and the other books of our fathers, and after acquiring considerable proficiency in them, was himself also led to write something pertaining to instruction and wisdom, in order that, by becoming conversant with this also, those who love learning should make even greater progress in living according to the law. You are urged therefore to read with good will and attention, and to be indulgent in cases where, despite out diligent labor in translating, we may seem to have rendered some phrases imperfectly. For what was originally expressed in Hebrew does not have exactly the same sense when translated into another language. Not only this work, but even the law itself, the prophecies, and the rest of the books differ not a little as originally expressed. When I came to Egypt in the thirty-eighth year of the reign of Eu-er′getes and stayed for some time, I found opportunity for no little instruction. It seemed highly necessary that I should myself devote some pains and labor to the translation of the following book, using in that period of time great watchfulness and skill in order to complete and publish the book for those living abroad who wished to gain learning, being prepared in character to live according to the law. In Praise of Wisdom All wisdom comes from the Lord and is with him for ever. The sand of the sea, the drops of rain, and the days of eternity—who can count them? The height of heaven, the breadth of the earth, the abyss, and wisdom—who can search them out? Wisdom was created before all things, and prudent understanding from eternity. The root of wisdom—to whom has it been revealed? Her clever devices—who knows them? There is One who is wise, greatly to be feared, sitting upon his throne. The Lord himself created wisdom; he saw her and apportioned her, he poured her out upon all his works. She dwells with all flesh according to his gift, and he supplied her to those who love him. Fear of the Lord Is True Wisdom The fear of the Lord is glory and exultation, and gladness and a crown of rejoicing. The fear of the Lord delights the heart, and gives gladness and joy and long life. With him who fears the Lord it will go well at the end; on the day of his death he will be blessed. To fear the Lord is the beginning of wisdom; she is created with the faithful in the womb. She made among men an eternal foundation, and among their descendants she will be trusted. To fear the Lord is wisdom’s full measure; she satisfies men with her fruits; she fills their whole house with desirable goods, and their storehouses with her produce. The fear of the Lord is the crown of wisdom, making peace and perfect health to flourish. He saw her and apportioned her; he rained down knowledge and discerning comprehension, and he exalted the glory of those who held her fast. To fear the Lord is the root of wisdom, and her branches are long life. Unrighteous anger cannot be justified, for a man’s anger tips the scale to his ruin. A patient man will endure until the right moment, and then joy will burst forth for him. He will hide his words until the right moment, and the lips of many will tell of his good sense. In the treasuries of wisdom are wise sayings, but godliness is an abomination to a sinner. If you desire wisdom, keep the commandments, and the Lord will supply it for you. For the fear of the Lord is wisdom and instruction, and he delights in fidelity and meekness. Do not disobey the fear of the Lord; do not approach him with a divided mind. Be not a hypocrite in men’s sight, and keep watch over your lips. Do not exalt yourself lest you fall, and thus bring dishonor upon yourself. The Lord will reveal your secrets and cast you down in the midst of the congregation, because you did not come in the fear of the Lord, and your heart was full of deceit.

Sirach 1:1-20 frames the book's purpose: to transmit wisdom that comes only from the Lord, who alone can search the heavens, the abyss, and the human heart.

Context

The prologue of Sirach places this book in a specific moment of Jewish suffering and search for stability. The author's grandfather, Jesus ben Sira, had devoted himself to studying the Law, the Prophets, and the other ancestral writings in early 2nd-century BCE Jerusalem. His grandson, writing from Egypt around 132 BCE during the reign of Ptolemy VII (Euergetes II), found that Hellenization was pressuring Jews abroad to abandon their ancestral laws. Within Judea, the high priesthood itself was being corrupted by political bribery as Hellenistic rulers bought and sold the office. The translation project was therefore not an academic exercise but an act of pastoral rescue: to give dispersed Jews the wisdom they needed to remain faithful under cultural pressure, persecution, and the grief of displacement. The theology terms supplied highlight that this was an era when God's people experienced His judgment through foreign domination and were searching for an experiential knowledge of God that could sustain them. Sirach answers by anchoring all wisdom—political, moral, spiritual—in the Lord who created it and whose ways cannot be measured by any human power.

Spacetime

Set in Jerusalem during the prophetic and exilic period of the Davidic monarchy and First Temple era, where wisdom literature grappled with the meaning of suffering amidst national turmoil.

Meaning

Two movements shape this passage. The first is the prologue, where the translator explains that he has labored to bring his grandfather's wisdom across the language barrier so that scattered Jews 'who wish to gain learning, being prepared in character to live according to the law' might be strengthened. Suffering, in this frame, is not abstract. It is the experience of a people cut off from their homeland, their Temple, their mother tongue. The translator names the cost of translation itself: meaning is lost, nuance is bent, some phrases must yield to imperfect Greek. He asks his readers to be indulgent. The very request is a confession of finitude—human words, even sacred words, do not perfectly transmit what they carry. The second movement is the hymn itself: 'All wisdom comes from the Lord and is with him for ever.' The fourfold image of sand, rain, days of eternity, and the abyss is not poetic decoration. It is the author's way of saying that the Lord who holds wisdom in His being is the One who numbers every grain of sand on the seashore and every drop of rain that has ever fallen. The same God who counts the cosmos counts your tears. The 'height of heaven, the breadth of the earth, the abyss' that no one can search out are themselves searched by the One in whom wisdom dwells. For a suffering reader, this is more than theology. It is a promise that there is a Mind behind the madness, a Wisdom within the wound. Comfort, for Sirach, is not the absence of hardship but the presence of a God whose wisdom cannot be exhausted by any hardship, including your own.

Apply

When you are in a season of suffering, Sirach 1:1-20 teaches you to do three concrete things. First, name your exile. The translator names his: he is in Egypt, he is translating across languages, he cannot fully recover the original. Honesty about your situation is the first act of wisdom. You do not have to pretend that you are home. Second, keep reading. Ben Sira's grandson does not tell suffering Jews to retreat into feeling; he tells them to read 'with good will and attention.' Scripture is given precisely so that those 'who love learning' might 'make even greater progress in living according to the law.' When pain presses in, do not abandon the practice of study and prayer. Third, anchor everything in the Lord as the source of wisdom. The opening confession is meant to reorder your categories. You are not the author of your life; you are not the ultimate interpreter of your suffering. Wisdom belongs to the Lord, and He gives it to those who fear Him. Practically, this means: before you make a decision in the midst of pain, ask where wisdom is coming from. Is it coming from your wound, your fear, your anger, or from the Lord who counts the sand? The difference will shape everything. Finally, when you comfort others, do not pretend that their language perfectly captures their pain. Like the translator, be patient with the gap. Sit with their imperfect words. Offer the same indulgence Ben Sira's grandson asks of his first readers.

Reflection

There is a quiet sorrow in this prologue that is easy to miss. A grandson is preserving his grandfather's voice across an ocean and a language. He knows he will lose something. He asks for grace. Perhaps you, too, have tried to pass on something precious to the next generation—a prayer, a song, a way of life—and felt that the transmission was imperfect. Take heart. The same Lord who is the source of all wisdom is also the One who receives the imperfect offerings of our love. Your best translation is enough. Your best teaching is enough. The comfort Sirach offers is not perfection but presence: the presence of a God whose wisdom dwells with Him forever, who counts the sand and the rain and the days of eternity, and who, in Christ, has entered the exile with us and promised to bring us home.

FAQ

If all wisdom comes from the Lord, why do His people still suffer?

Sirach's answer is that suffering is not evidence of the Lord's absence. His wisdom encompasses everything, including the trials He permits. Suffering is not a sign that wisdom has withdrawn; it is the testing ground where wisdom is proved—just as the Jews of Ben Sira's era, under pressure of exile and Hellenization, were called to cling to the law and seek the Lord.

Why does the translator ask the readers to be indulgent with the imperfect translation?

Because there is an unavoidable gap between the Hebrew original and the Greek rendering, and the translator knows this gap will produce loss of meaning. This humble confession is itself a comfort—no human language can perfectly transmit divine wisdom; only the Lord Himself is the perfect Communicator.

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