More than a decade ago, journalist Catherine Carr started a podcast on an almost absurdly minimalist premise. Traveling the world, Carr would approach people as they went about their everyday lives and ask them, “Where are you going?” The podcast ended in 2025, but you can listen to all 221 recorded conversations here, conversations which are at once unpredictable in their turnings and yet consistent in their revelation of four important truths.
The hidden depth of ordinary questions. A single question — about a mundane destination — becomes a portal into grief, love, loss, and joy. Ordinary movement carries extraordinary weight.
The art of respectful curiosity. Carr seeks out people in all walks of life without judgment, and her respectful curiosity can elicit astounding stories from someone who just happens to be passing by, as the day goes on for all of us.
The power of shared human experience. One longtime listener, posting a review on Apple Podcasts, articulated the impact with striking clarity: it has “helped me through some very hard times just to know that we all struggle with the same losses” and is “really life-affirming.”
The importance of threshold moments. The question itself — where are you going? — catches people mid-journey, at the hinge between what was and what’s next.
Two things are prominent for us in this Easter season. First, there is a lot of “going” among Jesus’ followers post-resurrection (the two followers headed to Emmaus, the running to and from the empty tomb, the disciples who go back to fishing). And second, Jesus displays curiosity wherever he goes. When the Risen Christ joins those two followers on the road to Emmaus, he comes alongside them and … does what? … he asks them questions.
A consensus of scholars tells us that, give or take, Jesus asks more than three hundred questions in the gospels. He himself is asked almost two hundred questions. Of all these questions, Jesus directly answers only three.
Your church board bears a great deal of responsibility – for staffing, budgets, buildings, programs, and any number of smaller but important (to someone) activities. Where does the cultivation of curiosity fall on that list of responsibilities? In your meetings together, what kinds of questions get asked? In your communication to your faith community, what is the balance between what you tell and what you ask? What are you most curious about in your ministry and in the lives of those you serve?
In the following poem, published in 1990, Mary Oliver considers some questions you might ask, and then follows where they lead.
Some Questions You Might Ask
by MARY OLIVER
Is the soul solid, like iron?
Or is it tender and breakable, like
the wings of a moth in the beak of the owl?
Who has it, and who doesn’t?
I keep looking around me.
The face of the moose is as sad
as the face of Jesus.
The swan opens her white wings slowly.
In the fall, the black bear carries leaves into the darkness.
One question leads to another.
Does it have a shape?
Like an iceberg?
Like the eye of a hummingbird?
Does it have one lung, like the snake and the scallop?
Why should I have it, and not the anteater
who loves her children?
Why should I have it, and not the camel?
Come to think of it, what about the maple trees?
What about the blue iris?
What about all the little stones, sitting alone in the moonlight?
What about roses, and lemons, and their shining leaves?
What about the grass?
What kinds of questions does Mary Oliver ask in this poem? Are they generative? Where do they take her?
What kind of question does Catherine Carr ask in her podcast? Any thoughts on why this question gets people talking?
Why does Jesus ask so many questions in his ministry? And why does he directly answer so few?
What role does curiosity play in your church board discussions? Would you say that, on the whole, curiosity is cultivated, discouraged, or politely managed? Any thoughts on why?
What are you most curious about in your ministry and in the lives of those you serve? How could you engage that question in your next board meeting?
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