Fools aren't always those who rush in

In 1711, the English writer Alexander Pope saw published his poetic Essay on Criticism, a long but often delicious piece of commentary on the nature of criticism - and critics - and the value (and failings) thereof. It has been far too many years since I engaged in any form of literary analysis, and even if I had the time, the practice would find my skills and intellect woefully inadequate to the task. Pope's essay is likely unknown to many, as the study of classical literature has fallen to elective status (at best) in our curriculums. Nevertheless, you are likely familiar with its most quotable phrases:

"A little Learning is a dang'rous Thing/Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian Spring:"

"Whoever thinks a faultless piece to see/Thinks what ne'er was, nor is, nor e'er shall be."

"To err is Humane; to Forgive, Divine." (often quoted as "To err is human …")

"All seems Infected that th'Infected spy/As all looks yellow to the Jaundic'd Eye."

"For Fools rush in where Angels fear to tread."

Another quote I like:

"True ease in writing comes from art, not chance/As those move easiest who have learned to dance"

"For Fools rush in …." Three hundred years later the phrase remains lodged in our cultural lexicon. And apart from its proper context, the common meaning and usage seems to generally convey the idea that insufficiently intelligent people, lacking wisdom, rush into situations without taking measure, counting the cost, or otherwise appreciating the sanctity or value of the circumstance or moment. The antithesis, of course, is that the wise measure their words, analyze the situation, and move (if necessary) with care as opposed to haste. In Pope's day, I wonder if the term "fool" was more descriptive of those lacking in specific judgment or expertise, as opposed to intelligence, which in the context of the act of criticism, and of the critic as a vocation, seems to make sense. (After all, many "critics" are far from experts in the matters and people they criticize).

Nevertheless, I find myself wondering today if the maxim (apart from context) is always true. For instance, in the New Testament, you have the rich young ruler who walks away from Jesus, the countless in the crowd who despite seeing the wonders and hearing the teaching of the Christ, turned away. Contrast this with the parables of the Kingdom of God, as reflected in the metaphors of a field with hidden treasure and the pearl of great price. Or the children who rushed to Jesus, or the impulse of the woman who poured out a jar of perfume upon Jesus' feet. Food for thought, I guess.

In my own journey through this life, I find in myself that tendency to overanalyze a moment, to overlook the simplicity of a simple truth, to introduce complexity that needlessly complicates the matter. Sometimes, there are benefits to the examination. Yet many times, there is a cost as well, most often measured in the loss of joy in the moment, and of course, time.

Self-control (and the wisdom it can beget) is a virtue worth pursuing. But control that results in a fist clenched so tightly upon one's spirit (or that of another) squeezes out what joy there is to be found in this life. Who is the fool who forsakes joy in exchange for a control that doesn't even exist?

Perhaps it is not always the fool that rushes in, but rather the one who fails to grasp the value of the moment and the opportunity therein, and dawdles away the time, choosing to fabricate complexity where simple truth would and does suffice.