Published: 9 May 2018
Last updated: 4 March 2024
This ancient dictum, as with other statements by the rabbinic sage Ben Zoma, is unclear. Is Ben Zoma defining the wise person as not one with a repository of wisdom at his fingertips, but someone with a mindset of being open to learn from others? By this definition would an ignorant yet curious child be wise?
What about the corollary: if someone is incredibly learned, but close-minded, are they to be considered simple? How can a mindset and attitude be preferable to the raw attainment of intellectual prowess? Is the arrogant professor not wise?
There is an ironic, yet crucial, progression that one experiences when on the path to acquiring wisdom. It is a dual-movement of the mind; the initial pursuit of knowledge, followed by an immediate retreat from it.
As we step towards the article of our desire, wisdom, we happen upon a new realisation; the futility of our quest. Our journey to the top of the mountain only reveals another, even higher peak, in front of us. “The more we know, the more we realise the less we know”.
The surge towards wisdom can mould the individual into a humble creature, ever becoming more and more aware of their intellectual insignificance. Humbled by this self-humiliation, they become prepared to learn from those around them.
Many take an alternative narrative; wisdom is the accumulation of a finite mass of material. Each step closer to its comprehension makes me wiser than before and, relatively speaking, greater than those who lack this knowledge.
Wisdom, by this definition, creates authority, superiority and condescension towards those less academically endowed. “What have they to teach us that we cannot discover without them?”
. A dismissive attitude towards foreign ideas breeds intellectual arrogance, which in turn closes the mind from potential learning opportunities. A closed mind can never be wise.
Ben Zoma addresses this attitude. The wise person acknowledges their ignorance. This humility opens them to learn from others. The more knowledge they acquire the more open they become to learn from others; they begin to see every person as a potential source of new knowledge.
Wisdom is tied in with humility; Moshe was the most humble of men. The Dalai Lama embodies humility, as did Mother Theresa. Humility is the sign of wisdom not its absence.
Our world, in general, and academia in particular, displays arrogance in its expression of ideas and disdain in the face of contrary opinions.
Discussion of religion has become a trivial target for the secular Left. Cursory readings of “troubling” verses, from Leviticus in particular, have become cannon fodder for their venomous attacks. Laws dealing with rape, divorce and levirate marriages (when a man feels obligated to marry his dead brother’s widow) are seen not only as outdated, but immoral. There is an absence of curiosity in their understandings, only judgment.
These diatribes, for some, provide justification for their atheistic lifestyles; driven by self defined values and monitored by self guiding principles. For others it is an opportunity to ridicule people whose beliefs are foreign to their own.
Comedy routines, poetry readings and dinner talks often conclude that “these” people and “their” beliefs are preposterous. At best they attract ridicule, at worst they provoke outrage. The new intellectual speaks with the authority of an autocrat.
The American political activist Noam Chomsky speaks of contrarian ideas and ideals, but his conviction in his positions is immovable. Only his ideas can resolve our political quagmires, mend our social ills and right our religious errors. The modern atheist has, ironically, become an evangelist, self-sure and dogmatic.
To be fair, the religious Right possesses an intellectual aristocracy equally potent to that of the Left. They view science and modernity with a disdain and disgust similar to that which others feel toward them. Pluralism is anarchy, Darwin was a fool and modernity is decadent.
Sam Harris and Richard Dawkins are no less dogmatic than the Rebbe. Their ideas and approaches are different, but their intolerance of the ideas of others is equally inflexible. They, like the Rebbe, have their own “Chassidim” who follow them equally blind.
Every philosophy has depth, even those we are opposed to. Understanding them requires openness to hear confronting ideas. A dismissive attitude towards foreign ideas breeds intellectual arrogance, which in turn closes the mind from potential learning opportunities. A closed mind can never be wise.
“We have two ears and one mouth so that we can listen twice as much as we speak” - Epictetus
Photo: Noam Chomsky (Idepod)
