I Know Nothing

When I was a kid, I loved watching Hogan’s Heroes. There are plenty of things that could be said about the show—some good, some not so good—but lately I’ve been thinking about Sergeant Schultz and one line he repeated constantly:

“I know nothing.”

For Schultz, it was all about plausible deniability. If he knew nothing and saw nothing, he figured he couldn’t be blamed for anything. I’m not entirely sure how well that strategy would have worked for a real WWII POW camp guard, but it did make for some genuinely funny moments on the show.

But I haven’t been thinking about his catchphrase in terms of plausible deniability. I’ve been thinking about it in terms of pastoral ministry.

When I Assume I Know Nothing

I am at my best as a pastor when I begin by assuming I know nothing.
When I assume I know nothing, I listen better.
When I assume I know nothing, I make fewer assumptions.

I even have a Michael Scott quote on my cup to remind me how little I actually know and understand on any given day.

The Temptation of Experience

The Michael Scott quote I have on my cup to help me try to remember how little I know and understand.
The Michael Scott quote I have on my cup to help me try to remember how little I know and understand.

The problem, of course, is that I do know some things. I have years of experience and training—gifts I’m genuinely grateful for, and gifts that help the people I serve. But those same gifts can also tempt me to jump ahead in the story, to assume I already know how a situation will end because I’ve “seen this circumstance before.”

Instead of staying present in the moment, I can get pulled into the illusion that I already have the answers.

Which is why it helps—deeply helps—when I intentionally start by assuming I know nothing. When I do that, I actually listen. I listen to understand what is really going on, not what I expect to be going on. And when I’m listening well, I am a far better minister.

Socrates and the Wisdom of Not Knowing

Socrates was once considered the wisest person in Athens because of one simple insight:

“I know that I know nothing.”

That single admission made him wiser than those who believed they already knew something—because their certainty kept them from actually learning anything.

I’m discovering the same thing in ministry.
The less I assume I know, the more I am able to receive.
The more I am willing to not know, the more deeply I can listen.
And the more deeply I listen, the more faithfully I can serve.

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