Are You Wise, Or Just Smart
The Jewish Tanakh or, in Christian parlance, the Old Testament, contains three broad categories of material: the Law, the Prophets, and the Writings, the latter of which comprises everything that doesn’t “fit” easily into the first two. A portion of the Writings has been described as “Wisdom” literature.
Like many other religious liberals, I’ve always shown a particular affinity for the Bible’s wisdom teachings as presented in Proverbs, Job and Ecclesiastes. They are the most philosophic in tone, the least given to gratuitous violence and, in the case of Ecclesiastes and Job, the most willing to ask daring questions and offer unorthodox opinions.
Interestingly, one struggles to find much consistency in the “wisdom” proffered by the authors of these three books. Many of the rather conventional lessons for life found in Proverbs (falsely attributed to Solomon) are seriously challenged or debunked in its companion books. As the narrator in Ecclesiastes complains, “I have acquired great wisdom…and my mind has great experience of wisdom and knowledge…. But I perceived that this is but a chasing after wind…and a source of great vexation.”
Having given some thought to these venerable texts, one is prompted to ask, “What, then, does it mean to be wise?” People typically agree that it’s not quite the same as being “smart,” “knowledgeable” or “clever.” We’ve all know people who were clearly brilliant but, as they say, “didn’t have the sense of a goose.” And almost daily the media reports on folks who were “too clever by half” and ended up either in prison or the morgue.
Nor does accumulated life-experience necessarily lead to greater wisdom. The precocious Henry David Thoreau famously declared that, “I have yet to hear the first syllable of valuable advice from my seniors.” We shouldn’t attribute that dismissive comment solely to the author’s arrogance. Centuries earlier, in Shakespeare’s Hamlet, we meet the sententious Polonius, for whom age conferred no advantage whatsoever in terms of wisdom. To be wise one must first be reflective.
Who are the people we deem wise today? In terms of public figures, I don’t think we really know and perhaps don’t care. Spiritual heroes like the Dalai Lama and Pope Francis are admired more in the breach than in the observance, as if any wisdom they might impart was meant for someone else. Books such as “Tuesdays with Morrie” and “The Last Lecture” climb to the top of the best-seller list, but are soon eclipsed by more titillating fare or the latest weight-loss manuals.
For the most part, I don’t think there’s much of a market for wisdom figures these days, except as foils in action movies (see Dumbledore and Yoda). Perhaps as a society we’ve decided that Ecclesiastes was right; that this, too, is but a chasing after wind.
Still, I do have my own personal criteria for defining wisdom and identifying those who display it:
First, they are careful, attentive listeners.
Second, they are slow to offer advice but adept at asking the right questions.
Third, they have developed an aptitude for “connecting the dots” and creating coherence out of seeming chaos (in elders, this is sometimes called “crystalized intelligence”).
Fourth, they understand their limits and don’t profess to know more than they do.
Fifth, they wear their wisdom lightly and with a healthy appreciation for life’s fundamental absurdity.
Sixth, they retain a child-like air of openness and expectancy, what the Buddhists call “Beginner’s Mind.”
Seventh and finally, they are at peace with themselves and their place in the world.
During my own seven-plus decades on this planet, I’m met at least a couple of people who exhibited most of these qualities. Perhaps you’ve had that good fortune as well.
