Q. Hello, Wisdom. What is my next step?

Building on the previous post about listening, I see significant potential for development in my silence. That’s easier said than done. This goes beyond my wife asking me to take out the trash, which I selectively ignore. It’s about recognizing that, no matter my status or position, listening always offers an opportunity for growth. 

Edification can come from places I may least expect if I can be still and observe. When I assume I am beyond reproach, I tend to place people below me in my hierarchy. What does someone of a lower rank have to offer? The thing is, I don’t have anything to justify this train of thought. A quick review of history reveals examples of what we humans call ‘lesser species’ teaching up. Biomimicry is the practice of drawing on the characteristics of living beings beyond the human race to create useful products or services. Oh, Velcro, how we love thee. This clingy material was inspired by the many bur seeds, or hitchhikers, that a quick stroll through the weeds can yield. Bats’ echolocation is another biggie. It inspired very important technologies such as radar and sonar. The adaptations range from glue to swimwear to potential city planning. And yes, I did say city planning. A species one may consider below the bottom in every respect is slime mold, but the attributes of this single-celled organism have been used to create a computer model that can project optimal transportation networks. I didn’t get the memo that mold was gold. If this slimy sort can benefit us at that magnitude, why am I convinced that people don’t have anything of value and therefore dismiss them entirely? 

The most credentialed theologian is not above learning from what critics may consider the lowest of sinners. John 8:1-11 tells the story of the adulterous woman facing prosecution by people who ‘outranked’ her. Instead of refuting their request to kill her, Jesus turned it into a teachable moment, commanding the one without sin to throw the first stone. In verse 9, it states, “And they which heard it, being convicted by their own conscience, went out one by one, beginning at the eldest, even unto the last: and Jesus was left alone, and the woman standing in the midst.” It doesn’t explicitly say so, but I imagine a silence here. I know that when I battle with my conscience, it is an internal conversation, ‘Should I have that second piece of cheesecake?’ Once the accusers heard, they were able to take something away from their encounter with the sinner, facilitated by the wisdom of the Saint. They entered the story as her superior but departed as her equal. 

I’ve encountered this misguided trait in various settings, though usually less extreme than the biblical example. My dialect has often sparked conversations during my travels. I’ve been told that my long I’s are too long, among other things. The language in Kentucky’s eastern region is deeply influenced by the Appalachian area, with some original touches sprinkled here and there. The local lingo can vary from one county to another. Natives of my hometown can instantly recognize our southeastern neighbors by their use of the word “school.” While I take pride in my roots, we are often seen as uneducated hicks. This stereotype, which I had long known from childhood, resurfaced during an assignment in Idaho. I was tasked with training a new employee, and during a lecture, he mentioned that it was difficult to reconcile the educated words I used with my Southern vernacular. I didn’t take his comment personally. He was a good kid, and he didn’t make that statement with ill intent. For him, as I have been guilty of on multiple occasions, it was a misguided preconception. I replied with a joke, and we both laughed. I appreciated his openness and honesty, but it’s easy to walk into those pitfalls.      

Another example happens to many people at work. I’ve experienced this on both sides of the coin. When someone tries to coach me in my trade, it’s easy to ignore those whose experience falls short of my own. I recall a new tech pointing out an error I was making. I’d been on the job ten-plus years, so no tenderfoot was going to educate me. Lo and behold, the newbie was correct. Had I been wise, a quick verification would have settled things without risk to a highly specialized piece of laboratory equipment worth several hundred thousand dollars. My arrogance wouldn’t allow that. On the flip side, I’ve offered advice to more tenured people who accepted it only after issues began to manifest. We just won’t learn, or is it listen? 

The book of Proverbs offers multiple accounts of the connection between listening and wisdom. Proverbs 9:8-9 states, “Reprove not a scorner, lest he hate thee: rebuke a wise man, and he will love thee. Give instruction to a wise man, and he will be yet wiser: teach a just man, and he will increase in learning.” That’s probably why I am not wise. It does burn my biscuits when someone tries to set me straight, but the latter part of the verse makes more sense. Why do I reject it?

We can also see this likeness in other verses in Proverbs, including 11:14, 12:15, and 19:20. If I can deflate my ego long enough, it may allow new, meaningful information to enter, and I can draw closer to wisdom. Let’s tear down our hubristic walls and make America wise.