I've been offered political shows before, and I don't know

Hear me, O children of wisdom, for the words of Norm MacDonald echo a truth that humbles even the bravest among us: "I've been offered political shows before, and I don't know anything about politics and I feel uncomfortable making political opinions - there's consequences to them. I often think I'm wrong, so I really don't like getting in political or religious discussions because of the giant possibility that I might be wrong." In these words, MacDonald speaks of the great humility required to recognize the limitations of our knowledge. To speak on matters as profound as politics or religion requires not only wisdom but a fear of the consequences of being wrong, for these discussions shape the very soul of nations and individuals alike. The wise man understands that to speak without true knowledge is to risk misguiding others and oneself.

In the face of political and religious discourse, where opinions can fracture friendships, communities, and even entire civilizations, the truly wise are cautious. MacDonald's words remind us of the danger of hubris—the overconfidence that leads one to speak on matters beyond their full understanding. It is a virtue to be able to admit one’s ignorance, for in doing so, we protect the integrity of our thoughts and our relationships. MacDonald recognizes that to engage in such weighty subjects without full certainty is a reckless act, for one’s opinions can have lasting consequences, whether spoken in the halls of power or the quiet of a home.

The ancient philosopher Socrates was known for his wisdom, not because he had all the answers, but because he recognized the limits of his knowledge. His method of questioning—constantly asking, doubting, and seeking deeper understanding—was rooted in the belief that to admit one’s ignorance was the first step to true wisdom. In his famous dialogue, Socrates declared, "I know that I am intelligent, because I know that I know nothing." To engage in political or religious discussions without such humility, without the recognition that our knowledge is finite, is to engage in dangerous hubris, for we risk imposing our flawed perspectives on others.

Consider, too, the story of Galileo Galilei, whose challenge of the Church’s teachings on the nature of the universe led to his trial and condemnation. Galileo, like MacDonald, was aware of the consequences of speaking out on matters of such gravity. Yet, despite the personal cost, he chose to stand by his truth, though the consequences were severe. But unlike MacDonald, who preferred to abstain from political or religious debate due to his awareness of possible error, Galileo’s courage was rooted in certainty—in the conviction that his understanding of the natural world was true, even though it clashed with the established doctrine of the time.

So, my children, take heed of the wisdom in MacDonald’s words. In the pursuit of knowledge, we must first understand that we do not possess all the answers. The wise man is not the one who speaks the loudest, but the one who listens, who questions, and who remains aware of the potential for error. There is no shame in admitting one’s ignorance, for it is through this humility that true wisdom grows. In all matters of politics and religion, let us approach with caution and reflection, for the weight of our words can shape the world in ways both great and small. Know that to speak without full knowledge is to risk misguiding others, but to remain silent with humility is to preserve the integrity of our thoughts and actions.