Reading a review of a book about owls published recently, I was reminded, again, of the lingering human feeling that owls, for a variety of reasons, are paragons of wisdom, inscrutable, incisive, more perceptive than all others.  Silent denizens of the night, owls, many people believe, their wings moving aphonically through the darkened skies, harbor an intelligence and insight we all need.

     We all of course need wisdom.  We all need the ability to see more deeply, to look between the lines, to perceive and grasp things we do not readily understand:  to make rational and informed decisions.
     The ancient Greeks viewed their goddess Athena (Minerva to the Romans) as a fount of wisdom,  So did the Hebrews write of wisdom as a woman in Proverbs 8.  For the Greeks as well as the Hebrews, wisdom was vital to good living, the creation of God.  Wisdom, they both believed, is for this reason embedded in the fabric of the universe.
     And this is the point.  Wisdom is calling, multiple Hebrew proverbs say, calling to you, calling to me, calling us to follow her, to follow her as a way of life.  It is everywhere.
     As Greek and Hebrew alike understood, however, such wisdom would not be unless there is God.  Wisdom can only be in a personal universe, and a personal universe can only be if there is a personal God.