
Choose [wisdom's] instruction instead of silver, knowledge rather than choice gold, for wisdom is more precious than rubies, and nothing you desire can compare with her (Proverbs 8:10-11).
I love the climactic scene of "Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade," where Indiana Jones has to choose the correct cup from a collection of hundreds, in order to complete his quest to find the Holy Grail. It seems like a nearly impossible choice -- finding that sacred relic among all the options: intricately carved goblets of crystal and gold and silver, beautifully-patterned, encrusted with diamonds and emerelds and rubies. They all seem so special, so unique, so "worthy of the Grail" -- and yet, Indiana Jones must choose only one. In the end, he decides for a simple cup, roughly hewn and slightly banged-up -- the cup of a simple carpenter -- and it turns out that his choice is the right one. But it's an unexpected twist in the story.
I envision the same sort of scene when I read Proverbs 8:10-11. Indiana Jones has to make a choice in order to find the world's most valuable commodity. Precious metals, valuable gems, master craftsmanship, and beautiful treasures catch the eye and beg the question: Could this be it? But in the end, Indiana Jones picks up a library card or a raggedy copy of the Bible, all dog-eared and highlighted, with notes scribbled in the margins -- something that represents wisdom, knowledge, and instruction though it may not have the luster of gold, silver, and rubies. And when he chooses the wisdom over the pawn-shop value, we all gasp and say how that totally makes sense, even though we never really saw it coming.
Maybe I'm just a hopeless romantic -- a child of the 80s, overly infatuated with one of the great ages of Hollywood's adventure cinematography. But it helps me to think of Proverbs 8:10-11 in these terms, with this sort of imagery. Of course, I believe that the real day-to-day choice for wisdom is much more meaningful than a well-contrived plot twist. But if we could all treat this choice a little more like Indiana Jones would, as a life-and-death moment of decision, then we might become a whole lot wiser in the process.