I'd say Jon Stewart has remained funny the entire time. Jon

The sage of irony and truth, Norm MacDonald, once said: “I’d say Jon Stewart has remained funny the entire time. Jon always makes it funny first. And he’s just, he’s talking about serious things, but in a funny way. Other comedians will talk about serious things in a serious way, and then you don’t know what’s going on.” To the casual ear, these words sound like mere praise for another comedian, but in truth, they conceal a lesson about the sacred balance between humor and truth, gravity and grace. In them lies an ancient wisdom: that laughter, when rooted in sincerity, becomes not the enemy of seriousness, but its greatest ally.

Norm speaks as one who understood that comedy is a form of revelation — a mirror that shows the absurdity of life, yet makes that absurdity bearable. To “make it funny first,” as he says, is to respect the order of things. It means to approach the weight of truth not with heaviness, but with light. For the moment laughter enters, the human heart opens — and in that opening, truth can enter more easily than through force or fear. Jon Stewart, in Norm’s eyes, mastered this ancient art: to speak of the grave and the unjust without losing the spark of humanity that only humor can preserve.

The ancients knew this too. In Athens, there was a man named Aristophanes, the great playwright of comedy. His works mocked politicians, philosophers, and even the gods themselves. Yet his laughter was not cruelty — it was medicine. Through satire, he awakened his fellow citizens to folly and corruption. He made them laugh at their blindness, and in that laughter, they saw clearly. So too does Stewart, in the modern age, take the chaos of politics, the weight of injustice, and turn them into light — not to belittle, but to illuminate. Norm recognized this lineage and honored it, for he knew that true laughter carries wisdom within it.

What Norm warns against — “talking about serious things in a serious way” — is not an attack on solemnity, but a warning about self-importance. For when a person, even in good faith, forgets to laugh, they lose perspective. Seriousness without humor becomes arrogance; conviction without joy becomes tyranny. The comedian, when he speaks without laughter, risks turning into a preacher; the thinker, when he forgets laughter, becomes a scold. But when humor remains — even amid the sorrow of the world — truth is delivered gently, and it takes root more deeply. Laughter, in this way, is the breath of humility that keeps wisdom alive.

There is a story from ancient China of the philosopher Zhuangzi, who laughed when his wife died. His friends rebuked him, but he replied, “When she died, I thought of how she came from nothing to life, and life to death — and I laughed at my own foolish grief.” His laughter was not cruelty; it was clarity. He saw the world’s pattern and accepted it. In much the same spirit, Norm admired the laughter of those who could face the chaos of the world without letting despair swallow them. The funny way of speaking about serious things is not escapism — it is courage. It is the way of one who stands before absurdity and refuses to bow.

Norm himself lived this truth. He faced darkness — both in life and in his final illness — with humor unbroken. Even in silence, he found the joke that could lift the weight of suffering. His admiration for Stewart was, therefore, not merely artistic; it was moral. He saw in him the embodiment of comedy’s highest calling: to confront truth without bitterness, to laugh not to escape, but to endure. For humor, rightly understood, is not a mask over pain — it is a light that shines through it.

And so, the lesson is clear: when you speak of serious things, make it funny first — not out of disrespect, but out of reverence for the listener’s heart. Let your laughter carry your truth. For humor is not the enemy of seriousness, but its most honest form. The fool who laughs at tragedy sees the full picture: that life is both fleeting and precious, sorrowful and beautiful, and that the only fitting response is both tears and laughter intertwined.

Therefore, my child, remember this: speak truth, but never forget to laugh. Do not let the world’s heaviness make you grim. Be as the wise jesters of old — the ones who made kings tremble with laughter and peasants weep with joy. For laughter, when pure, humbles the proud and heals the weary. In the end, it is not the loudest voice that enlightens the world, but the one that dares to make us smile while telling it the truth.