Wonder undergirds all true philosophy and culture.
Originally, “wonder” meant far more than mere idle curiosity. Dennis Quinn, a professor of English, wrote an entire book on the subject of wonder—“Iris Exiled: A Synoptic History of Wonder”—wherein he begins to sketch a definition for us: “Wonder, always considered a passion, was classified by Aquinas and many before him as a species of fear.” At first glance, calling wonder a type of fear may strike us as odd. But Mr. Quinn goes on to explain that wonder involves fear because it makes us aware of all that we don’t know, and it makes us afraid of remaining ignorant.
The delight involved in wonder follows from this “fear” because it intensifies the joy of finding something out. For example, when children are confronted with a majestic mystery, such as the tides of the ocean, they will experience a certain awe in the face of grandeur, along with being aware that they are ignorant of its cause. The desire to enter more deeply into this mystery will excite a child and spur him or her to search for answers. The deeper the sense of wonder, the more profound the joy when the child begins to understand the role that the moon plays in the tides (although that is, in itself, another layer of mystery).
Mr. Quinn writes: “It is true that wonder arises from something that is unpleasant, consciousness of ignorance, and that until one knows, one remains in this condition. But the only way that one can profitably flee from ignorance is by desiring and attempting to know, and these are pleasant activities. A man imprisoned will find his condition unpleasant, but he will take delight in planning his escape.”
We might add that in addition to instilling a kind of fear of ignorance, true wonder also causes a sense of smallness or humility in us. Mr. Quinn’s colleague John Senior defined wonder as “the reverent fear that beauty strikes in us.” When we experience something majestic and grand, we are drawn out of ourselves and realize that we have the privilege of contact with something greater than ourselves, something that exceeds our capacity to fully understand, and that is a kind of “fear”—but it is a joyful fear.
"Phantasy," 1896, by William Savage Cooper. (Public Domain)
Indeed, joy plays a key role in wonder, too. According to Father Francis Bethel, a scholar of Mr. Senior’s ideas, wonder is not only a kind of fear but also a kind of love. “When confronted with something majestically beautiful, we are drawn to lower our eyes in reverence, while at the same time feeling the impulse to lift them up so as to gaze, in desire and hope, upon the striking beauty that also attracts us. ... Wonder is a type of love.” This is not hard to understand when we think of our experience, for example, of listening to a regal and moving piece of music or catching our first glimpse of the mountains—we grow still, we are present in the moment, we are filled with both peace and longing, and we are attracted to the object of our wonder.
"Solar Eclipse," 1851, by Bengt Nordenberg. Oil on canvas. National Museum of Fine Arts, Stockholm, Sweden. (Public Domain)
In his “Metaphysics,” Aristotle explains that wonder is the beginning of all philosophy, and thus the beginning of wisdom:
“It is through wonder that men now begin and originally began to philosophize; wondering in the first place at obvious perplexities, and then by gradual progression raising questions about the greater matters too, e.g. about the changes of the moon and of the sun, about the stars and about the origin of the universe. Now he who wonders and is perplexed feels that he is ignorant (thus the myth-lover is in a sense a philosopher, since myths are composed of wonders); therefore … it was to escape ignorance that men studied philosophy.”
Without the humility and yearning that wonder inspires, deep philosophy is impossible. All of our treasures of Western philosophy, including the insights of Aristotle himself, which indeed form much of the basis for Western civilization as we know it, would have been impossible had not certain men looked up and been struck with reverent awe in the face of the mysteries and grandeurs of the world around them.
If possessing wonder is a prerequisite to true wisdom, the inverse is also true. A lack of wonder has dire consequences.
The Wonderless
Literature professor Anthony Esolen has argued that those who lack wonder may easily lose even their moral bearings. Without humility and awe at what exists around us and the “drawing out from oneself” that wonder causes, we tend to turn to selfish pursuits, such as pleasure, money, or power. Mr. Esolen uses Shakespeare’s “The Tempest” as an example: The characters Antonio and Sebastian do not appreciate or wonder at the magic of the island on which they are shipwrecked. Blind to the marvels about them, Antonio and Sebastian think only of power and how to attain it—even if that means murdering the rightful king.
"A brave vessel" carrying Miranda's future lover, Ferdinand, is overtaken by violent waves and "dashed to pieces" (Act 2; scene 2, from Shakespeare's "The Tempest"). "Miranda–The Tempest," 1916, by John William Waterhouse. Oil on canvas. Private Collection. (Public Domain)
Shakespeare’s insistence on the importance of wonder can be seen in the name he chose for the virtuous, innocent girl at the center of the play: Miranda. Miranda is a name derived from Latin, meaning “wonder” or “to be wondered at.” Because Antonio and Sebastian refuse to wonder at anything, including Miranda, they fall prey to villainous desires.
Wonder and Civilization
"The Dance of the Villagers," 1630–35, by Peter Paul Rubens. Oil on panel. The Prado Museum, Madrid. (Public Domain)
According to philosopher Josef Pieper in “Leisure: the Basis of Culture,” culture is a grand feast, a grand celebration of the world through art, music, dancing, and even religion. Culture serves to foster that spirit of treasuring all that a society holds most dear, all that is worth celebrating in human life and in the world. Pieper writes: “To hold a celebration means to affirm the basic meaningfulness of the universe and a sense of oneness with it, of inclusion within it. In celebrating, in holding festivals upon occasion, man experiences the world in an aspect other than the everyday one.”
This spirit of celebration, which is the soul of culture, can only be the result of the reverent fear and love found in true wonder—wonder at all that is powerful and grand in our lives and in our cosmos. Without wonder and appreciation, there is nothing to celebrate. When there is nothing to celebrate, there is nothing to cultivate. When there is nothing to cultivate, there is no culture.
Tragically, through centuries of increasing skepticism, doubt, and rejection of the past—as embodied in, for example, Critical Theory—Western civilization has lost much of its ability to wonder. Skepticism is the very antithesis of wonder, and so, we might say, it is the antithesis of real philosophy and culture.
Perhaps, then, an important step in the restoration of culture is the restoration of our sense of wonder.
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Walker Larson teaches literature at a private academy in Wisconsin, where he resides with his wife and daughter. He holds a master's in English literature and language, and his writing has appeared in The Hemingway Review, Intellectual Takeout, and his Substack, “TheHazelnut.” He is also the author of two novels, "Hologram" and "Song of Spheres."
