We are wise if we know we are not.
The beginning of wisdom, is to acquire wisdom! From your every acquisition acquire understanding." (Proverbs 4:7)
This popular translation of the original Hebrew words defines our philosophy of life. The famous comedian Groucho Marx once said, "Those are my principles, and if you don't like them … well, I have others."
Today, I write about the immutable, because what truly drives us in life shapes our everyday decisions.
In attempting to teach how to ascertain truth, one of the great Chassidic teachers told his students, "I may not know how to define absolute truth, but a lie I can sense, even from a distance."
So how do we define wisdom? And with understanding, will we recognize wisdom when we see it?
Consider, for example, that in these current challenging times, there seem to be more panhandlers on the street. When you are driving, you don't have time to form a philosophy that leads you to hand the person a few bucks or some food. There is legitimate debate on the "right thing to do." So, what makes one person roll down the window and another look the other way? The likely answer is that each person has a philosophy of life, an approach from which actions quickly follow.
There is a story about a Chassidic master. Each year before the Jewish Day of Atonement, Yom Kippur, his followers would hand him a note with their name, so each could be included in his prayer. One year, the master said he would not accept prayer notes after a certain time, no exceptions. The people of the town rushed to bring their prayer notes during the allotted time. One requested intervention for her sick child, another sought relief after a rough year in business and a spouse prayed for a happy home.
Then there was Hank Goldener, an influential man in the city who was not used to the answer "no." He arrived at the master's home two hours late. He was told again, there are no exceptions. Yet, Hank pushed his way through the shut doors. He tried to hand his prayer note to the master, who looked up and said, "Did you miss the announcement? Hank, does it always have to be your way?" And the master asked Hank to leave.
As Hank walked away, paper in hand, he was overcome with a deep sense of shame and remorse. As hard as he tried, he could not escape the harsh rhetorical question posed by the otherwise kind-hearted, soft-spoken master. Depressed, Hank returned the next day to pray in the company of the master.
As the master passed by Hank, he asked him, "Do you still have that note?" Hank opened his clenched hands, where the note had remained since the prior day. As the master took the note, he asked, "And who says it has to always be my way?"
As if to answer his own question, the master continued, "What makes us unique from all other species is the ability to go back to the drawing board and be open to listen to an opinion that is different than our own."
Consider the words of Benjamin Franklin, "For having lived long, I have experienced many instances of being obliged, by better information or fuller consideration, to change opinions, even on important subjects, which I once thought right, but found to be otherwise."
As we open our mind and heart to others, perhaps our opinion ultimately will remain unchanged. But the process itself will uniquely enable us to understand those with a different view. This, then, is part of the Chasidic philosophy of life, to reach out to others and to learn from them.
We are wise if we know we are not. This statement of humility is no mere tautology. Consider the many who are preoccupied with acquiring material objects. Could such material pursuits possibly be more valuable than acquiring wisdom and understanding?
I welcome your thoughts and feedback in the comments section below and through email at rabbi@jewishmalibu.