Here in Hillsdale, a great many of us think ourselves pretty good about asking the “why” questions. We all need to remember a few things, though.
First, we must remember that not everyone in the world beyond is good at this, cares, or is even aware that people like us ask these questions. Some of these folk are our comrades here in the Dale. Perhaps you even count yourself among those ambivalent to or even annoyed by these incessant inquiries. You ask, “Why can’t we just get on with it?” Those of us who have been questioning these marvelous imponderables since we had the vocabulary to think them into sentences (such as “Mom, why did God make us?” and the like) might not be able to understand how anyone could not ask such things. There are a great many of you though, who don’t.
I have recently come to the realization that, while I think most people should question things more than they do, those who don’t are a lot better at doing a certain something than I am — namely, just living. While I wholeheartedly agree that education is good for its own sake and that dwelling upon things inherently beyond our grasp is one of the primary ways that we live out being truly human, they are not the whole story. They may be ends in themselves, but that is not all they are — they are also means to accomplishing something greater — this thing we glibly call “life.”
Since my freshman year I have been hearing wise upper-classmen telling the frantic up-till-three-every-day study-a-holics that “it’s all about the relationships,” we are here to enjoy life and to do it with company. Man is designed to live in a polis. The first two things we learn about God in Genesis are that he’s creative and relational. I have found myself, as a junior, saying the same things to underclassmen because I’ve very much found them to be true.
My second point is that this, however, is not the full picture either. “It” — whatever that is — is not just about relationships, but also about what kind, what you are doing in them, and where they will take you. “Oh well, at least I’ll be going to Hell in good company.” Isn’t that still Hell? C.S. Lewis’ definition of “phileo” friendship discusses people who are striving in the same direction, thus they become closer to each other as they become closer to their mutual goal. They also encourage each other towards that end. If we accept that some goals are better than others, then we ought to be conscientious and intentional about the direction our friendships will lead us.
My first point, then, is directed at those similar to me — the questioners. My second is to those who live, laugh, and love without questioning. Lastly, I will address us all. I encourage you, my fellow Hillsdalians, to simply be aware of your tendency, whichever way it trends, and try to maintain that Aristotelian mean between the two. Both can be strengths, and both can become terrible weaknesses. We must always maintain that childlike wonder — questioning life so that we know how to live and why — but we must also make sure that we actually get around to living as well.
