I'm usually a big fan of not saying anything. That's not because I don't have strong feelings or decisive thoughts about things. Rather, I'm just never so totally convinced that I'm correct that I want to risk making authoritative statements about it. I've always had a great respect for quiet people. That's because there's a certain intellectual humility about never being that sure that you're right. Tragically, I'm afraid this was almost completely dismissed as relativism by our parents' generation. It's not an un-biblical idea, though. It says in Proverbs:
Whoever restrains his words has knowledge, and he who has a cool spirit is a man of understanding. Even a fool who keeps silent is considered wise; when he closes his lips, he is deemed intelligent.Unfortunately, for these next few months, we're in a season of finding out who the fools among us are. And we will be (or are already) disappointed to learn how many of our own friends and relatives are among them. Even worse, as November gets closer, we will learn that more and more people that we (did) hold in great respect—authors and teachers and leaders and more—are really blithering idiots that we should've never listened to about anything.
But there's the trap. As the lunacy coming from people we thought better of piles up so high that it threatens to topple under the weight of its own colossal ridiculousness and has to be shored up by name-calling and non-logical platitudes shouted by all the people we never even thought were smart (at least they didn't disappoint), the temptation to set them all straight by stating the obvious becomes severe. Like, hellishly severe.
Yet that's the very temptation that all those people that we are so disappointed in eventually succumbed to, perhaps after much struggle and self-torment and frustration with people that they were disappointed in. And so they went and did it. They said something.
Now, there's this very strong argument: In a world where we can influence others' thoughts and shape the course of events, if we really believe that we are right, don't we have the moral obligation to stand up and say something? Perhaps. Perhaps we do. And perhaps I shall.
The only counterpoint standing between myself and that is this: All the people who are now loudly making it known to us that they are completely wrong about everything also used that argument. And in a universe as vast and maddeningly interconnected as our own, while it may be that the emperor has no clothes, it's entirely possible that we don't either.