Knowledge is not simply another commodity. On the contrary.

Hear the words of Daniel J. Boorstin, a historian of wisdom and a keeper of memory: “Knowledge is not simply another commodity. On the contrary. Knowledge is never used up. It increases by diffusion and grows by dispersion.” In these words lies a profound truth that sets knowledge apart from all other treasures of men. Grain is consumed when it is eaten, gold is hoarded when it is spent, fuel vanishes when it is burned—but knowledge, unlike these, grows greater the more it is shared.

The ancients understood this mystery. In the schools of Athens, when Socrates questioned his students, he did not lose wisdom by giving it; rather, his questions awakened more understanding in both himself and in them. The flame of knowledge is like a torch: when one torch lights another, the first is not diminished. Instead, the light doubles, and spreads, and grows until darkness is banished. This is what Boorstin means by diffusion—the truth that the gift of knowledge multiplies itself in every mind it touches.

History gives us great testimony to this principle. When Johannes Gutenberg invented the printing press, he did not create new knowledge, but a new way for it to be dispersed. Before him, books were rare, hoarded by monasteries, guarded by a few. But when the printed word spread across Europe, learning was not consumed or diminished—it expanded beyond imagination. The Reformation, the Renaissance, the birth of modern science—all were fruits of this great dispersion. What was once confined to a few became the heritage of millions.

Boorstin also reminds us that knowledge is not a commodity to be bought and sold like salt or cloth. To treat it as such is to misunderstand its very nature. For commodities diminish as they are used, but knowledge renews itself in the act of being given. A teacher who imparts truth does not lose it, but often finds it clearer within themselves. A scientist who publishes discoveries does not make them weaker, but gives others the chance to build upon them, expanding the circle of truth. Thus, knowledge is a living force, not a perishable good.

Yet there is a warning here as well. When knowledge is locked away—hidden behind walls of secrecy, bound by greed, or kept from the many by the few—it withers. The library of Alexandria burned, and centuries of wisdom were lost, not because knowledge diminishes when shared, but because it dies when hoarded. This is why Boorstin insists on dispersion: for only by moving freely through minds, across borders, and through generations does knowledge fulfill its destiny to grow and bear fruit.

The lesson for us, O listener, is clear: be not a hoarder of knowledge, but a giver of it. If you learn, share. If you teach, give generously. If you discover, publish and spread. In the home, pass on wisdom to your children. In the community, share what you know with your peers. In the world, support the freedom of learning for all. For in doing so, you not only strengthen others but also strengthen yourself, for knowledge multiplies when it moves.

Thus, let Boorstin’s words endure as a guiding flame: knowledge is no mere commodity, but a divine inheritance, inexhaustible, ever-growing. Its true power is revealed not in hoarding, but in diffusion. Its greatness is fulfilled not in possession, but in dispersion. Carry this truth, and you will become a link in the endless chain of wisdom, adding light to the world and passing it forward, brighter and stronger, to generations yet to come.