Curiosity killed the cat, so they say. Not so Grey, our first family pet. A milk float was the unwitting culprit, young Grey’s tragic final act being to underneath beside its wheel prior to its silent departure. I was about 5. We then got a dog, a wonderful companion through my subsequent childhood. No lasting trauma.
Curiosity. Young children starting school this month will brim with it (once early nerves have settled). A child’s natural curiosity is a joy to behold, is it not. Those starting university courses will also be curious: about their studies (hopefully), and about the wider social world they will encounter (that parents may worry they indulge in too much). From the taming of fire and invention of the wheel to today’s science and technology, curiosity has been integral to human prosperity.
Spiritual curiosity too threads through human development. Where did we come from? Who might ‘god’ be? Might our lives fit in a bigger picture? The world’s religions evolved in response to such questions. ‘Answers’ help to settle us; a framework for understanding the world offers secure walls.
But do those walls sometimes hem us in? Back to the curious cat. Cats often roam around the Rectory, and I watch amazed (occasionally fearful) as they clamber over the rooftops. Seemingly stuck, they always somehow get down. Dogs, by contrast, are trained to stay where they’re put, obedient and faithful. Does the church, I wonder, encourage us to be more ‘dog’ than ‘cat’, spiritually obedient more than curious? I suspect so.
I have recently been caused to ponder – to be curious! – how the church can be more welcoming to the spiritually curious. A place where the ‘spiritual cats’ amongst us can clamber the rooftops, rather than having the cat-flap locked (or told to be dogs!). Today’s younger generations show much spiritual curiosity, particularly about life’s purpose.
Meanwhile I am encouraged by Christ’s encouragement to ‘ask, seek, knock’ (his own ‘cat side’ perhaps). We can clamber those spiritual rooftops with courage.
