Theology is the effort to explain the unknowable in terms of the not worth knowing.

When naming becomes knowing

Mencken's jab cuts at something real: how easily we dress up our uncertainty in elaborate language and call it understanding. We do this constantly, not just in religion. We talk about productivity systems that promise to transform our lives, read self-help books that repackage common sense as revelation, or nod along as experts confidently explain why the economy will move a certain direction. The language feels substantial. But underneath, we're often just naming things we don't actually understand and hoping the naming sticks.

The twist is that Mencken isn't really attacking belief itself—he's attacking the performative part, the need to turn mystery into a doctrine you can defend at dinner. There's a difference between admitting "I don't know why I'm here or what matters most" and spending decades building an argument about it. One keeps you honest. The other lets you feel like you've solved something when you haven't. The unknowable doesn't become knowable just because you've written five hundred pages about it.

The useful takeaway isn't to abandon all frameworks and explanations. It's to notice when you've stopped wondering and started just reciting. That's the moment to pause and ask: am I trying to understand this, or am I trying to win an argument with doubt?