“Bluey” as Wisdom Literature
Bluey as Wisdom Literature:
By: Rev. Debra McKnight
“The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge;
fools despise wisdom and instruction.
Hear, my child, your father’s instruction,
and do not reject your mother’s teaching,
for they are a fair garland for your head
and pendants for your neck.
My child, if sinners entice you,
do not consent.” (Proverbs 1:7-10)
“Wisdom literature” sounds like something that requires a PhD to understand. It feels like it should be a hard concept to grasp, or found in an ivory tower. But it’s not. Biblical wisdom literature appears through poetry, prose, and proverbs. Proverbs are short sayings, clear metaphors that, in an economy of words, share something profound and essential to your everyday wellbeing.
The Book of Proverbs is a testament to Wisdom, herself. That’s right! Wisdom is a lady and she teaches. Now, if you sign up for, say, a class called “Preaching Wisdom Literature,” expecting to meet the Hebrew Bible’s version of a feminist icon/Wonder Woman, you may end up a bit disappointed.
Lady Wisdom—or the Greek, Sohpia—wasn’t really the feminist hero I imagined she’d be, because in Hebrew tradition, her words were primarily geared toward promising young school men. So, it’s complicated.
But no one can keep us out of Wisdom’s classroom now. And Wisdom centers around everyone thinking deeply about how they are present. When things get complicated, little proverbs, mantras, pieces of poetry or stories are, at least for me, more helpful than a resplendent essay or lengthy lecture.
Scholar Mark Douglas puts it best in Feasting on the Word:
“Becoming wise means learning how to think carefully and act virtuously in complex situations where one is tempted to think simplistically and act recklessly or said differently one becomes wise by learning to integrate one’s thoughts, will and actions to one’s context in faithful ways.”
The wisdom of the past, perhaps, seems a little more complex because it's written by and for folks with a culture that is so different from our own. But seeds of wisdom are all around us, here and now. Everyday we sense, share, and experience words of wisdom through songs, movies, poetry, small screen moments, and quotes. We even have tattoos on our very being to remember. I want to invite us to search our tv guides for a little bit of wisdom. And I am not endorsing unlimited screen time for us. I have heard the admonishments about “television rotting your brain.” Rather, if we are going to sit in front of a television, let’s be intentional and put something good in our heart and mind. Something that offers us a little insight, joy, or courage. Something profoundly simple that is right there when we need it.
So, I’m starting with Bluey, the six-year-old cartoon dog whose mom, Chili, taught her and me to “run your own race” rather than trying to measure up. In six or seven minutes, this family of dogs and their community reminds all of us that play and imagination matters. You may learn about staying in the moment, when Chili can’t quite figure out the right way to relax on the beach. There is a chance to watch Bandit throw his anger far out into the sea, just like his daughter Bluey taught him. It is profound and beautiful, and there is even a family meeting about farts that will delight everyone watching and shed new insight into how “the truth will set you free.”
If you haven’t seen Bluey, give it a chance. Bluey came into my life through my daughter, and just in time to make our pandemic home a little bit better. In the pantheon of quality children's television, adults can always learn something, but may not always enjoy programs like Nature Cat or Molly of Denali or Daniel Tiger. To be honest, I was so into Daniel Tiger, I wanted all of us to sing the songs in worship (particularly when someone was mad at me). And then there was the moment I called my Mom to ask if Paw Patrol was a political allegory. (There is a greedy, yellow haired rich guy with a gang of kitty cats that is always bothering the sweet, woman of color mayor and her team of heroic dogs). Anyway, it was a theory she did not share.
Then, of course, there are programs that are fine at first but repeatedly played over time will grate on your nerves. Shows like Fancy Nancy, Pinkalicious, or characters like the Dragon on Doc McStuffins or Caillou and his insistent whine. In fact, there were times when I felt we could not watch another episode of The Lion Guard, The Miraculous Lady Bug, Elina of Avelore, or Sophia the First.
But Bluey, I still watch it. Even by myself. And when I found out the 20-year-olds of Urban Abbey watched it too…well, I knew it wasn’t just a kids’ show.
In her April 2024 Atlantic article, Solfie Gilbert puts it best, saying,
“Bluey manages not just to do it but to make it look easy. The series, which is currently in its third season, essentially plays out in two different registers, one for kids and one for adults. My 3-year-olds can watch any episode and see the things that delight or perplex them daily: ice cream that melts before you can eat it, siblings who won’t share, gifts that are somehow all wrong, drawings that don’t turn out the way they’re supposed to. I, meanwhile, can watch scenarios I’ve never before seen portrayed on any kind of kids’ show: hungover parenting, babysitter anxiety, trying to make friends in midlife, the cruel isolation of infertility, the particular limbic state of waiting for a child to finish going to the bathroom at 3 o’clock in the morning. This is a show that can acknowledge pregnancy loss with just a balloon pop and a quick, instinctual hand grab, as in the episode “The Show.” But it can also tell my kids, as it does in “Cricket,” that the moments which feel hardest for them are the very moments that will make them stronger, braver, kinder. Watching Bluey, we all win.”
There is a model early childhood teacher named Calaypso who weaves an economy of play through her classroom. There are friends that struggle and dance and learn to play together, while their parents do, too. The aunts and uncles have grown-up conversations while the spunky little cousin Muffin runs away with her dad’s phone on “faceytalk” and everyone “learns what happens when you hog.” The polished neighbor, Wendy, cuts her coat short when she realizes her long and lushish coat is limiting her daughter's fun in the “da da da dirt.” The show is a capsule of emotional intelligence and a celebration of play. The family battles old tree stumps and watches football and has to limit screen time and stop at the pharmacy and make the side salads at the bbq. It is absolutely everyday. And it is absolutely brilliant.
Bluey is filled with quotable moments, like “nice parking spot Rita,” or “it was the 80’s.” And the hilarity of cousin Muffin playing a grouchy granny with a real grouchy granny, to the benefit of the not-too- tough neighbor.
And each episode is short enough and powerful enough that it will stick with you. You may find yourself wondering how to relax like Chili on the beach, or how to toss all the anger out of your body with Bingo and Bandit, or how to be brave, to see the gifts in others, and wonder what does it look like to really live well and show up in play with the people you love.
You see wisdom literature, past and present, is a tool for being grounded in this complex world. It is little reminder that can so deeply make you react with openness, love, and compassion. Wisdom literature can encourage you to care rather than jump to judgment, a rash answer, or the most simple absolute.
Bluey imagines, and so can we imagine, “What does a better life for your family look like?” She plays with money and we think about our money. She leads and offers us space to think about our leadership and the leaders around us. The whole family invites us to laugh, even at ourselves.
“The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge;
fools despise wisdom and instruction.
Hear, my child, your father’s instruction,
and do not reject your mother’s teaching,
for they are a fair garland for your head
and pendants for your neck.
My child, if sinners entice you,
do not consent.” (Proverbs 1:7-10)
“The Fear of the Lord” sounds like a horrible, not at all delightful sentiment. The phrase brings to mind a punishment-hungry God, waiting with lightning bolts in tow. But this might be the way it is translated for us. Dr. Alice McKenzie, a professor in Wisdom Literature, talks about the fear of the Lord as three strands braided together in one phrase.
First, the fear of the Lord looks like awe before the holy, not fright, but one is stunned, opened, and amazed by the full presence of the Lord. The second is covenantal loyalty or connection with a relational God. God in the Hebrew tradition is in relationship, God is present and co-creating and committed. The final strand is moral obedience, which is a phrase that makes me nervous but I think highlights our intention to make choices with each moment that grow us into the people God would want us to be. To make choices God would make with and through us. The fear of the Lord is the fear to end all fears and the first pillar of wisdom.
This fear invites us to engage in a listening heart, practice attentiveness to all the world and lend an eye to community. The heart is not understood like we understand head and heart as separate elements; one reasonable and measured while the other is wild and passionate. The heart holds it all in the Hebrew tradition, and a listening heart is attentive to the sacred all around in a way that opens one to community. There is both pleasure and pain in this attentiveness.
The “Fear of the Lord” was a little phrase folks could hold onto when they needed to remember they were connected, called, and in awe of a love so deep. The Proverbs named that parent’s guidance can be something fine and fabulous. The people who nurture us into nurturing and love us into loving. And the Proverb tells children (us) not to consent to the sinners. We might think of sin as something a mean, old church person is shaming folks about, but really it is the moralizing and control of the church. Sin is about creating harm and brokenness. “Do not consent to the sinner” means doing things the right way, the hard way, the way that is for the common good, the way that brings healing, not harm. And when we are in a world filled with cheap and easy, we are typically fine with quick fixes and collateral damage. But that is where the fear of the Lord comes in.
The fear of the Lord is powerful because it means we are not enticed by sinners, and we are not afraid to tell them no. We become so worried, consumed by everyday realities that don’t really need to bother us, like test scores or GPA’s, dress sizes or name brands, job titles or bank accounts. So run your own race and be strong and brave, kind and creative, in this wild world.
May it be so, Amen.