The Pub

Thoughts From The Editor

As soon as I could talk, it became apparent that I was an inquisitive child. My mom recalls that on days when both of our family cars needed to be driven home from church, she deliberately chose to drive the car without my car seat in it, just so she could have a few minutes of rest from my endless questions. Yet even if it made them weary at times, my parents always encouraged my insatiable curiosity.

But at some point during junior high, I learned that asking questions wasn’t “cool.” When I raised my hand in class, my peers rolled their eyes; when I asked them to explain their innuendos at lunch, I was teased. I began to believe that there is such a thing as a stupid question, and I grew uncharacteristically silent.

“The important thing is not to stop questioning,” Einstein said, “Never lose a holy curiosity.” I hadn’t lost my “holy curiosity,” but I had stopped asking the questions that gave it value. Rather than learning from those around me, I satisfied my nagging curiosities with whatever I could find in the pages of a book, and, in some cases, I became content to remain ignorant altogether. My learning became an independent process, and I carried these individualistic habits with me all the way to college.

At Wheaton I’ve witnessed peers and professors boldly inquire into difficult issues, and I’ve taken part in those inquiries. But I’ve also sat in countless classes where the professor’s question, “Does anyone have any questions?” goes unanswered. I’ve endured the torment of class “discussions” where no one speaks. I’m guilty of letting my questions go unasked in these settings, and after three full years here, I’m beginning to realize what I’ve been missing.

What I wasn’t mature enough to assert in junior high is that all learning begins with a question. The author of James writes, “You do not have, because you do not ask” (4:2). This may refer to material possessions, but doesn’t it also apply to knowledge? What understanding do we lack because we’ve been afraid to ask difficult questions? It is fear that keeps us from asking questions: fear of seeming ignorant and fear of having our paradigms challenged. Honest inquiry is an act of humility; it is an acknowledgement of limitations, and for that reason, it is a uniquely Christian calling.

Asking questions is The Pub’s business. The Pub was born out of the question, “Why isn’t there a student publication at Wheaton that represents more academic thought?” And ever since that first question was asked, our staff and writers have been working together to explore the answers to whatever questions come our way.  The Pub exists because questions exist.

You, our readers, play an important role in this quest to question. We have no purpose unless you vocalize your curiosities, doubts, and confusion. We’ve made your participation as easy as possible by including the email address of each contributor to this issue at the bottom of each piece; ask them questions about what they’ve written. And, on behalf of the staff, I want to invite you to send us feedback about this issue—questions about the goals of The Pub or about any of the material within these pages.

Together, let’s humbly acknowledge our inability to know all the answers by seeking to find some of them.  It would be terrible to lose our “holy curiosity,” but it would be even worse to waste it.

Elise Bremer

Editor-in-Chief