Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost
A young man seeking advice asks to speak to someone wise. The villagers point to a man playing stick-horse with children. "He has keen, fiery insight and vast dignity like the night sky, but he conceals it in the madness of child's play." During their conversation the young man asks the wise man why he hides his intelligence. The man answers, "The people here want to put me in charge. They want me to be judge, magistrate, and interpreter of all the texts. The knowing I have doesn't want that. It wants to enjoy itself. I am a plantation of sugarcane, and at the same time I'm eating the sweetness."
The following words are from the middle of the poem.
Knowledge that is acquired is not like this. Those who have it worry if audiences like it or not. It's a bait for popularity. Disputational knowing wants customers. It has no soul. Robust and energetic before a responsive crowd, it slumps when no one is there.
Chew quietly your sweet sugarcane God-Love, and stay playfully childish. Your face will turn rosy with illumination like the redbud flowers. (Rumi, 1207-1273, translation by Coleman Barks with John Moyne, The Essential Rumi)
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.