Canter Bridge

It ain’t easy gettin’ smart.

Nor does wisdom come gently to the passive. On the contrary, moving from naiveté or even foolishness to wisdom is, from the perspective of the Bible’s wisdom tradition, an athletic accomplishment. It requires the same consistent, self-denying discipline that takes an athlete to the competition level.

Wisdom is not for the faint of heart. Finding it demands that a person be willing to see her smooth, tanned skin scarred by experience. The man who finds wisdom will have known the burn of muscles being forced to their limit and then somewhat beyond.

The second chapter of the biblical collection called the Proverbs puts it this way:

My child, if you accept my words
and treasure up my commandments within you,
making your ear attentive to wisdom
and inclining your heart to understanding;
if you indeed cry out for insight,
and raise your voice for understanding;
if you seek it like silver,
and search for it as for hidden treasures—
then you will understand the fear of the LORD
and find the knowledge of God.

A strenuous attentiveness, a shame-bearing willingness to cry out relentlessly in the streets, the discipline of unyielding pursuit of a prey that is notoriously difficult to find: these are the qualities that the biblical sages place before us as the prerequisites of becoming wise.

Most human beings do not have them. The sapiential literature is realistic to the verge of pessimism with regard to that percentage of humanity that must be considered fools. There is no gloating over this matter, just the enduring conviction that the discernment that is here exalted as the most important thing will not in the end be pursued by many searchers who are willing to pay the gut-checking price of discovering its lair.

Only a few.

Yet the tone of proverbs is hopeful rather than tragic. Wisdom, it appears, is such a stunning jewel that—even gracing the necks of just one or two—it steals the show.