Who Is Wise?

May 11, 2007

 

Last week’s New York Times Sunday Magazine presented a fascinating story. It examined the meaning and study of wisdom. It discussed efforts to present a scientific measurement of wisdom. This is innovative because wisdom has usually been a concept associated with religion, not science. Indeed, many religion contain a wise-man or woman type figure—In Judaism we have the rabbinic sage—Native American tribes have a shaman—once could say a monk is a kind of Christian wise man. It will be interesting to see whether scientists can arrive at new ways of measuring wisdom. In the meantime, my question is how Judaism defines wisdom? What qualities does a wise person display? And how can this Jewish approach to wisdom enrich and add depth to our lives?

 

One core component of Jewish wisdom is the ability to appreciate multiple points of view. We see this, for example, in the teachings of the great rabbinic sages. As those who have studied the great rabbis this year with Rabbi Sternfield and me know, two of the great early rabbis were Hillel and Shammai. They disagreed over everything. Shammai, for example, said you light all eight candles of the Hanukkah menorah on the first night, and decrease by one each additional night. Hillel said you start with one and end with eight. As in most of their debates, Hillel won. A generation later, the rabbis asked why Hillel always won. It was, they said, because he was gentle and modest, and he always studied Shammai’s arguments. He saw different points of view. He was like the village rabbi in the old story.

 

A man came to this rabbi and said. "Rabbi, I have a pear tree in my yard. My father planted it, and I keep it watered and make sure the chickens don’t peck at its roots. One of its branches hangs over my neighbor's wall. So what do I see yesterday but my neighbor standing there eating one of my pears. This is theft, and I want him to pay me damages." The rabbi nodded his head. "You're right, you're right."

 

The next day this neighbor came to the rabbi.  "Rabbi,” he said, “you know that I have seven children--without my garden to feed them, how would I manage? But that tree of my neighbor casts a shadow where nothing will grow. So yesterday, when I go out to dig some potatoes, a pear from his tree falls and hits me right on the head. How am I hurting him if I eat it? And doesn't he owe me something for his tree's blocking the sunlight? The rabbi thought and then said, "You're right, you're right."

 

Meanwhile, the rabbi's wife had been hearing all this. She asked him: "How can you say, 'You're right' to both of these men? Surely one of the men is right, and the other is wrong!" The rabbi looked at her and sighed. "You know, you're also right."

 

A wise person is open and empathetic. Like the rabbi, he or she appreciates that life’s dilemmas resist simple solutions. Or, as H.L. Mencken quipped, he or she realizes that “For every complex problem, there is a solution that is simple, neat and wrong.”

 

In Jewish tradition, a wise person is also patient. This can be hard. The Hebrew word for patience is Sovlanut. The root of that word is savel, which is also the root of the word for suffering. Patience can feel insufferable. I think, for example, of the incident of the golden calf. Just a few weeks ago, we read this story in the Torah. The Israelites are encamped at Mount Sinai. They are waiting for Moses, who has been away on the mountain top for many days. Without any communication or knowledge, without any clear sign of God’s presence, the community becomes impatient. They become restless. Consequently, they build a golden calf. The results of this impulsive act are tragic. The ringleaders are killed, and the Israelites are forced to wander the desert for forty years. To be patient means to check our impulses for immediate satisfaction, to exert self-control.

 

Judaism does not imagine that this is easy. Long before Freud, the sages recognized that human beings have dueling impulses—the yetzer ha tov, the good impulse, and the yetzer harah, the evil impulse. The study and the doing of Torah, they said, are intended to help us control that evil impulse. To be patient, loving, kind, mindful of others. Wisdom is the result of patient, hard work.

 

A final aspect of wisdom is the ability to grow. A wise person is not cynical or resigned. A wise person is open to the possibilities for the new experiences, lessons and dreams that life offers. In our confirmation class, I recently showed a video of an interview with late great Jewish thinker, Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel. One of Heschel’s comments captured this idea: He said, “I try not to be stale, I try to remain young. I have one talent and that is the capacity to be tremendously surprised, surprised at life, at ideas. This to me is the supreme Jewish imperative. Don’t be old. Don’t be stale. See life as all doors. Some are open, some closed. You have to know how to open them.”

 

Opening new doors: that is growing. It not only can lead to wisdom. But it can make us happier and more versatile people. I’ve seen this many times among men and women who are retired or elderly. I spoke recently with a son whose father had died. I asked him to tell me about his dad’s life. He told me that he worked very hard—had a successful and focused career. Sadly, his wife died very soon after he retired. They had looked forward to many years of travel and enjoyment. After some time of mourning, he resolved to make the best of his retirement. He took on ballroom dancing. After several years, he was traveling around the country at ballroom dance competitions. It brought him joy, new friends, excitement. In fact, when he passed away, his children saw all these names on his cell phone that they did not recognize. They were fellow ballroom dancers who had provided community and friendship and joy during his final years.

 

Wisdom is not a function of age. Each of us can grow. Each of us can seek to become more patient. Each of us can cultivate the ability to see multiple points of view. How do we do so? Through study, through life experience, by surrounding ourselves with friends and mentors who embody the wisdom we seek to attain. As the great Jewish book of wisdom, Pirke Avot instructs us: aseh lecha rav, ukeneh lecha chaver.  “Find for yourself a teacher; make for yourself a friend.” Let us find such people in our lives. And let each of us seek to be such people in the lives of others. And as we do so, may we thereby find wisdom, joy and peace.