When I hear theists and atheists pontificating on how they know

The words of Vincent Bugliosi strike like a bell echoing in the caverns of the human mind: “When I hear theists and atheists pontificating on how they know God does or does not exist, I can only smile at the irrationality and, yes, vanity of the notion.” In this statement lies a timeless reminder: that man, finite in his years and bound to dust, too often proclaims certainty about the infinite. To say with arrogance, “I know beyond all doubt,” whether in faith or in denial, is to dress oneself in robes too large for mortal shoulders.

The ancients themselves trembled at this mystery. Socrates, wisest of the Athenians, declared that his greatest wisdom lay in knowing that he knew nothing. He would have nodded at Bugliosi’s words, for to profess mastery over the question of God is to step beyond the limits of man. The irrationality lies not in the seeking—this is noble—but in the boast of possession, the claim of knowledge where mystery dwells. To smile at such vanity is not mockery, but the recognition that both sides clutch shadows, mistaking them for substance.

Consider the tale of the Tower of Babel. Men, desiring to touch heaven, built with stone and pride, saying, “We shall ascend to the throne of God.” But their tongues were confounded, and their plans scattered. Here is the lesson: that human ambition, when clothed in certainty about the divine, leads not to unity, but to discord. Bugliosi’s smile is akin to the divine scattering—an acknowledgement that both the assertion of absolute belief and the denial of all possibility spring not from humility, but from vanity.

Yet there is power in this reflection, for it teaches us the strength of humility. To confess, “I do not know,” is not weakness but courage. For man fears the unknown, and so he cloaks himself in false certainties, whether of creed or denial. But the one who stands in awe before the mystery of existence, who dares to live with questions rather than pretend at answers, is free. He is free to wonder, to seek, to remain open to light from any direction. Such a soul is richer than both the boastful believer and the boastful skeptic.

History bears witness to this. Blaise Pascal, a man of science and faith, did not declare certainty, but confessed the wager of the heart. He admitted the limits of reason before the infinite, choosing to live as though the divine might be, without demanding proof or claiming mastery. His humility in the face of mystery shines brighter than the dogmatic proclamations of those who pretend to know what lies beyond death’s veil. Here we see the wisdom Bugliosi defends: not the arrogance of possession, but the quiet endurance of seeking.

O listener, understand this well: the universe is vast beyond measure, and man’s mind, though sharp, is a small flame flickering in its expanse. To declare, “I know with certainty,” whether of existence or non-existence, is to let pride extinguish wonder. Better to keep the flame of curiosity alive, better to walk in reverent questioning, than to imprison the spirit with the chains of false certainty. For true greatness lies not in possessing the answer, but in embracing the mystery.

Therefore, let your practice be this: when you encounter those who boast of ultimate knowledge, whether they wear the cloak of faith or the armor of denial, do not argue with heat. Instead, smile as Bugliosi smiled, and remember that both are prisoners of their own vanity. Live instead with humility, seeking truth without claiming its crown. Cherish the wonder of existence, the beauty of the question, the awe of not knowing.

In this way, you shall inherit the wisdom of the ancients: to walk humbly, to wonder deeply, and to keep your soul open to the mysteries that lie beyond the grasp of certainty. For in wonder lies wisdom, and in humility lies peace.