The next section of ספר משלי changes the metaphor. The previous section was a parent lecturing their child, שמע בני מוסר אביך; ואל תטש תורת אמך. This section portrays חכמה standing in the street, haranguing passersby.
And wisdom hear is called חׇכְמוֹת, in the plural. The Alshich says that this refers to the מוסר אביך ותורת אמך of the previous section; there are two sides of wisdom. We called חכמה in משלי, “phronesis”, the practical wisdom to distinguish right from wrong. And there are two ways to learn that, the Divine תורה שבכתב and the human aspect of תורה שבעל פה.
And the four places where wisdom is declaiming represent levels of understanding רצון ה׳. It’s always possible to delve deeper and learn more.
And at every level, she is complaining that no one listens to her.
We’ve talked about the פתי in Middle of the Road. They are the naïve who accept everything at face value:
And part of the introduction to the ספר was the goal of teaching the פתי some sophistication:
We noted that
that פתי isn’t a bad thing; we all need some simple faith. But if they embrace naïveté, then they will never learn חכמה.
The opposite of the פתי is the לץ, the cynic, who believes nothing. That isn’t all bad either. חכמה is saying, don’t be wedded to either extreme.
The מסילת ישרים talks about the destructiveness of ליצנות, cynicism:
Rabbi Frand offers a משל (I would read this only as a משל; I don’t know if Honda actually destroyed the emu industry):
The truth is,
Jews love sarcasm. It goes way back:
And
I’m as guilty as anyone. I’d like to think my sarcasm is self-deprecating humor and I’m not putting anyone else down, but my kids will give me מוסר when I’ve gone too far. Sarcasm is so ingrained into Jewish culture that it’s impossible to root it out; even our greatest נביאים get sarcastic:
The reason that it is so pernicious is that it’s not always bad:
The פתי believes everything; the לץ believes nothing. The third of wisdom’s complaint, the כסיל, is different. They have no interest in belief at all: כסילים ישנאו דעת.
We have talked about another kind of “fool” in ספר משלי, the אויל.
We called the problem with אוילים ”akrasia“; they intellectually know the right thing to do and want to do it; they don’t treat it seriously enough, בזו, disdain. They don’t act on their knowledge. The כסילים hate the idea of חכמה, phronesis. כסיל in תנ״ך generally means “fool” but in משלי it seems to be connected to the word כסל, feeling secure.
The כסיל is self confident, which sounds like a good thing but it’s destructive in this case. “I know what I want to do, so it must be the right thing to do, and any implication to the contrary is simply wrong”.
Wisdom then complains that she has been saying the same things over and over and nobody listens:
The Ramchal in מסילת ישרים pointed out that מוסר never tells you anything you didn’t already know:
And so, the fools will suffer the consequences of their actions.
It’s the message of Kipling’s The Gods Of The Copybook Headings, which I won’t quote in full, but the idea is that people follow glittery promises, but real life can’t be avoided no matter how much you want them to.
That is what אז יקראנני ולא אענה means. It is very different from Moshe’s words in תהילים:
And that is because there is a
difference between calling to ה׳ and calling to חכמה!
ה׳ allows for תשובה.
The message of משלי is that there is a right and a wrong, and not knowing the difference is no excuse.
Wisdom concludes her peroration with a statement about the need to keep growing.
משובת and שלוה sound good, but they presage bad things to come.
Rambam notes that the figurative meaning of ישב is to settle, be static.
Human life in this world is meant to be an ongoing journey, never static. To stop growing is to die: משובת פתים תהרגם.