Read part one and part two of this series.
In the last two talks, we’ve looked at six different forms of the “vice of curiosity: first, three ways in which we can seek knowledge of the wrong things, and then three forms of seeking knowledge in the wrong ways. But what about the most fundamental question of all—why we seek knowledge. Martin Luther once vividly described the human condition of sinfulness as one of being incurvatus in se—“curved in upon ourselves.” The same is true of our quest for knowledge. Rather than taking delight in the object of knowledge, we revel in the act of knowing it, or in the idea of ourselves as knowers. Perhaps some of you can remember bitterly an older sibling taunting, “I know something you don’t know!” This is the mindset of curiosity. The studious recognize that knowledge of truth is a good that belongs to all of us in common, but the curious wish to privatize this gift. Of course, this selfish turn is inevitable if we forget that all of our knowing is meant to be in relation to God. God is the giver of all good things, so when we discover new goods to know, we must worship and thank the Creator. Often we talk about the good of knowledge for knowledge’s sake, of knowledge as a good in itself. But in reality, we will love any good either for the sake of God or we will come to love it for our own sake.
If we love it for our sake, this is what I would call possessive curiosity. This is an intellectual form of greed, and is closely linked to pride and envy. Sometimes it shows itself in talkativeness, for the curious knower is eager to show off the extent and up-to-date-ness of his knowledge. Of course, this lends itself toward a superficiality and love of novelty, for if I know something new, I can enjoy knowing what no one else yet knows, and if I attend only to the superficial, I can objectify the world, so as to more readily assimilate it and move on to the next possession. “The curious,” as Paul Griffiths puts it beautifully, “inhabit a world of objects, which can be sequestered and possessed; the studious inhabit a world of gifts, given things, which can be known by participation, but which, because of their very natures can never be possessed.”
Of course, everybody knows that “possessiveness” is a bad thing, so Google and Facebook and Instagram advertise themselves to us as ways of “sharing,” as helping to make us part of a participatory web of relationships characterized by giving and exchange. And they can do an amazing job of this—a very large share of my meaningful friendships came from the internet. But sometimes, “sharing” on social media can become a way of “advertising ourselves as knowers,” and our frequent visits to Facebook are much more often motivated by a curiosity to see whether someone has liked or commented on our own clever observation or cute photo than by a studious desire to learn from what others have to share.
Now don’t get me wrong in all this. I have many dear friends that I got to know online, whom I would have never otherwise met; I can write, and edit much more efficiently than I ever could have in the days of the typewriter; and I have access to vast treasure troves of knowledge from all over the globe. We want you all to benefit from these riches as well. Indeed, we expect you to do a lot of research on their computers at home for some of our classes. And of course, we’re making extensive use of the online tools of Moodle for posting and submitting assignments. But we do not want you to be unaware that with these great gifts come great temptations. We can use these resources as aids to studiousness, or we can let ourselves be used by them, and fall prey to idle curiosity. As you seek to order your loves rightly in the year ahead, be attentive not only to what all you are learning and seeking to know, but how and why you are learning it. All things must be done to the glory of God.
Dr. Brad Littlejohn is Headmaster at Loudoun Classical School. Read his full bio here.