on being wrong

I hate being wrong. Well, actually I don't mind it so much, really. But what actually do mind is being wrong...and other people knowing it. Yes, there's the rub. The pride. The pursuit of knowledge is ultimately what I'm after (well, I guess I'm using 'ultimately' in a hyperbolic sense, there are probably other things that are more ultimate, so let's put on the penultimate level, at least). So if penultimately I want knowledge, it holds that if I'm corrected then I'm alright with that, right? True. But what I'm not alright with yet, is others knowing I'm wrong. It's that whole judgment thing, or perception of judgment that I just can't be down with. Maybe I can be all spiritual and say that judgment is a result of sin and that's why I don't like it. But in reality, it's because if I'm judged, I'll think people will think less of me and I just don't like that.

But operating out of my redeemed-self, knowing that which is true about me and about God and my position in him, I have the freedom to be wrong, because to be wrong and to be corrected is to learn and to grow. All my life I have been withheld speaking up in classes and other situations over fear of being found to be more ignorant than I'd like to admit. But in true socratic style, we only learn when we interact with the ideas of others, are challenged, and are pushed closer towards the truth. What ultimately (and I think I mean that this time) makes us look like we are thinkers is the ability and willingness to ask questions and be wrong--to be foolish. So here again, we find another paradox: to be wise, to look wise (and looking in some way that is good or honorable isn't bad as long as it is a true reflection) one must be willing to look foolish, ignorant--to ask what might feel like is a dumb question for the sake of clarity, of understanding, of knowledge, and of truth.

So there are my two cents for the morning as I study for my epistemology exam: Freedom, paradox, and the ability to ask to really dumb questions. Keep reminding me of that, ok? I might forget tomorrow.