There are very important moments when leadership is not measured by how loudly we speak, but by how carefully we choose our words. Rob Reiner was verbally cruel to President Trump. He had been for many years. No one argues this. But his and his wife’s rather gruesome deaths required words of reverent sobriety, not mockery.

This really could have been a time for President Trump to shine. Simplicity, or maybe even silence, would have been the wiser course. Of course, silence would’ve prompted backlash, so what’s the harm in a brief acknowledgment of loss? A recognition of grief, even for an outspoken enemy? That’s it. I mean, there is a time to argue, and there is a time to mourn.

I should say that I’ve stood before my congregation on countless occasions and in various contexts and shared the characteristics I appreciate most in people. Two in particular stand out right now. I think the best way to relay the first is to say that leadership isn’t always about how quickly a person responds in the middle of a crisis. It’s about whether the person actually understands the moment requiring a response. That said, the ability to exercise restraint when restraint is hardest—when emotion, and even a long history of provocation, seem to beg for a sharp response. Leadership we can call “good” knows when to tone down and hold back. Even better, I think it takes more guts to lower your voice than to shout one’s apparent vindication. That’s by no means a sign of weakness. It demonstrates strength under control.

Trump made a huge mistake. The moment called for restraint, and he blew it. That leads to another characteristic I admire in people. Those with the ability to admit to a mistake and seek to amend that mistake are the truly courageous among us. They are also the wisest, and I trust them above all others.

If I were advising Trump, I’d tell him an apology here would not weaken him. It would show that even a man accustomed to fighting understands when the fight needs to stop. It would communicate that there are moments when compassion must take precedence over score-settling. That kind of humility is already too rare in public life, which is precisely why it matters right now, and why it would strengthen President Trump, not weaken him.

Again, the strongest people I know can admit to being wrong and say, “I’m sorry.” They own their errors. And they correct course. When they do, they earn my trust rather than lose it. In this particular moment, a sincere apology would not erase what President Trump wrote, but it would demonstrate that he does, in fact, understand the gravity of the moment he first failed to recognize. I’ll pray that someone in his immediate circle encourages him to do this.