Molded by Experiences

HS #33  2018.4.3

Molded by Experiences 

Perhaps the cleverest sermon I ever heard was April 1, 1988 while attending Hope College’s Good Friday service. Jerry VanHeest, Hope’s chaplain, offered a meditation on I Corinthians 1:18, “For the word of the cross is folly to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved, it is the power of God.”  As he proceeded with his thoughts, I eventually caught on that he had chosen a text that perfectly tied together April Fools Day and Good Friday. Very clever indeed. 

Maybe only the Apostle Paul could have written such a statement. He had lived both sides – dramatically. For a good portion of his life, he ravaged the Christian church believing the Christian message was not only foolish but dangerous. Then after an experience he vividly described as an encounter with the risen Christ, his point of view – and as a result, his life mission - did a complete turnabout. 

This all happened even though Paul’s values and personality remained essentially the same. He was a gung-ho, Type A personality before his conversion, and he certainly was after it. He loved and wanted to serve God before, and just as much afterwards. 

Paul’s story shows us that life experiences are often central to our beliefs and consequently our life’s trajectory. 

A few years back, Hope College psychology professor David Myers gave a talk on homosexuality. Taking comments after the talk, a middle-aged man – bleached crew-cut and bronze from working in the sun – stood up and repudiated all that Myers had just said. Homosexuality was wrong – plain and simple. As he sat down, another man of similar description stood up, “Last year I would have said exactly the same. But last winter my son told me he is gay - and I love my son.” 

Dick Cheney provides another example. He is solidly conservative on most every issue except the LGBT one. No coincidence that his daughter is a lesbian.  So life experiences certainly seem to influence our life perspective. 

Or is it the other way around? Is it our perspective that colors our experiences?

There’s a joke about a shoe salesman who was sent to a remote tribe in the rainforest. He wrote back, “No market here – no one wears shoes.” Another salesman was sent, who immediately telegrammed, “Unlimited market here – No one has shoes!” 

As a real counterpart, I remember once hearing a moderator interview two Nobel Laureate economists. He asked them to predict the world economy over the next 5-10 years. One gave a rosy forecast, the other’s was bleak. The moderator was perplexed, “You are both experts and you both see the same data – why the difference?” Rather sheepishly, they explained that one was an optimist and the other a pessimist. 

For a Biblical example, see John 12: 27-29. Some heard angel voices, others heard thunder. 

Same experiences, but different interpretations. What causes the difference? Does seeing cause believing, or does believing cause seeing? Do experiences make us, or do we determine our experiences?

C.S. Lewis thought the former. His book “Miracles” begins “What we learn from experience depends on the kind of philosophy we bring to experience.” 

My father agreed, but with a twist. I remember his sermon, “Butter and Eggs” in which he noted that when heated, the first melts while the other hardens. He reasoned by analogy that a person’s character determines how one reacts to experience. So while the experience (heat) affects the individual, it’s the individual who determines what the effect is. (Immanuel Kant’s epistemology is similar:  Experiences happen to us, but WHAT we experience depends on us.) 

The PBS documentary “Faith and Doubt at Ground Zero” – made a year after 9/11, seems to support this view. The two-hour special included interviews of a dozen people who had lost loved ones in the attack.  Some had a severely damaged faith in God as a result; others experienced an enhanced belief and experience of God. 

My own take on the matter is informed by the recent forest fires out west. These fires are affected by the existing weather – dry wind versus rain makes all the difference. But meteorologists are also finding that large fires actually influence and create their own weather.  Our brains likely have similar feedback systems. Like M.C. Escher’s illustration of two hands drawing each other, our experiences mold us as we in turn interpret and mold our experiences. 

Mindboggling, and leaves me wondering:  If I had been with Paul, what would I have seen?

The Infinite and our Place in the Universe

HS #41 2018.12.13

The Infinite and Our Place in the Universe

Let’s listen to Immanuel Kant on one of his evening walks about Konigsberg:

 “Two things fill the mind with wonder and awe the more steadily I reflect upon them: the starry heavens above me and the moral law within me. The starry heavens begin at the place I occupy in the external world of sense.  The moral law begins at my invisible self, my personality, which has true infinity. 

The former annihilates my importance as an “animal” which must give back to the planet (a mere speck in the universe) the matter from which it came. The latter, on the contrary, infinitely raises my worth as that of an “intelligence” independent of animality with a final destination not restricted by the boundaries of this life, but reaching into the infinite.”

Three thousand years ago, a shepherd boy destined to become the King of Israel gazed into the night sky, took his lute and composed something quite similar: “When I look at thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, what is man that thou art mindful of him? Yet Thou hast made him a little less than God.“

Theologian, astrophysicist and WTS emeritus professor, Chris Kaiser, with the benefit of modern scientific knowledge, still asked the same,  “Scientific theories will always leave us with the perplexing question of the relationship between humanity and nature, history and cosmology. Which is the real drama? Is it the evolution of the universe, with the rise of life on earth and the history of humanity a mere curiosity, a freak sideshow doomed to extinction and oblivion? Or is the story of humanity the real drama with the vast panorama of the universe merely a background?”

Why do we humans ponder our place in the universe?  Is it because, as the writer of Ecclesiastes said, “He has put eternity into man’s mind“?  Why did Kant keep referring to the infinite?  What does the infinite have to do with our understanding of ourselves?

Thirty years ago, as a new professor at Hope College, I wrote a paper: “Infinity and the Absolute: Insights into our World, Our Faith and Ourselves.” I began, “The more I ponder the infinite, the more I question my ability to know, because I become increasingly aware of the limitations of my own mind. On the other hand, contemplating the infinite and endeavoring to understand its connection to the world outside of me and the faith within me, serves me by clarifying my position in the scheme of things. Thus in grappling with the infinite, the mind is at once humbled by the inability to fully understand, while enriched by the very attempt to understand.”

David Hilbert, perhaps the greatest mathematician of the twentieth century, observed, “The Infinite. No other question has ever moved so profoundly the spirit of man, no other idea has so fruitfully stimulated his intellect.” 

For thousands of years, mathematicians and philosophers wrestled with the meaning of the infinite. For some it was a pejorative term, others associated it with the divine. Then Georg Cantor singlehandedly ripped the curtain from top to bottom revealing the infinite’s inner sanctum. 

Cantor successfully defined the infinite. Essentially, an infinite collection is one in which after removing some, there are still as many as before. John Newton, the author of “Amazing Grace”, captured the idea exactly: “When we’ve been there ten thousand years . . . we’ve no less days to sing God’s praise than when we first begun.”

Cantor also proved that there are different sizes of infinity - - in fact there are an infinite number of sizes.  But he was humbled by it as well. Cantor could not answer a vexing question: Are the sizes of infinity discrete (like the numbers 1, 2, 3) or are they all bunched together (like the possible distances along a ruler). Cantor, obsessed with this question and taunted by mathematicians who rejected his ideas, died in an insane asylum. 

But Hilbert recognized the significance of his findings. In 1900, Hilbert, the key-note speaker at the International Congress of Mathematicians, listed 23 problems for mathematicians to solve in the next century. Cantor’s problem was number one.  The answer, in 1963, shocked everyone.  It was totally unexpected. 

No wonder Cantor associated this unknowable, otherworldly infinite with the divine, envisioning the different sizes of infinity as angels leading to the very throne of the inscrutable Absolute Infinite. The Infinite: humbling, mysterious, and surprising – almost as surprising as an infant lying in a manger. 

SDIC

HS #40  2018.11.8

SDIC

Last Christmas, Kids’ Hope had a party for the children including Bingo with an assortment of prizes. Jon (I’ll call him) was excited when he saw two hot rod cars among the toys. His expression of hope fell when another boy yelled BINGO! and chose one of them. Three turns later, the same boy shouted bingo again and took the second car. Jon quietly sobbed. As mentors consoled him, it occurred to me that bingo is a good game for children to play. It shows them that life is not fair and that the difference between winning and losing sometimes depends on the luck of the draw. 

Do you remember the opening and closing scenes of “Forrest Gump”?  A feather flitters in the wind – tossing and turning aimlessly. That, of course, was the point of the movie. The outcome of our lives is an unpredictable amalgam of intention and inherent randomness. 

In high school I read a short story about a flea that hatches and develops into an adult all on a single leaf. The flea sits on that leaf waiting – waiting – waiting until a mammal passes by. Then it leaps. If successful, it lands on a furry back, burrows down to a nourishment of blood, finds a leaf and lays eggs – completing the cycle of life. If it misses, it falls to the ground and dies. Its entire existence lay in the success or failure of a single leap. 

Stark pathos. The story resonates deep in the soul – perhaps because we realize the truth of it.  We plan and prepare, doing everything in our power to succeed. But the outcome? Who knows.  The quality Napoleon most wanted in his generals? Lucky. 

Perhaps that’s why American Ninja Warrior is a favorite TV show for millions. Men and women run a three minute obstacle course involving jumping, balancing, climbing, and hanging on. Some have dedicated their lives to finishing the event, building elaborate backyard courses and practicing for hours each week. 

In the Jumping Spider obstacle, contestants leap from a trampoline and must catch themselves with outstretched arms and legs between two parallel walls. If their timing is slightly off, they fall into a watery pit. Like Jon, some break down in tears. But others, stoically accepting the uncertainty of life, promise they will redouble their efforts and try again the next year. 

Life often turns on a dime, determined by minute circumstances. Mathematicians have a term for situations where a slight difference leads to drastically different outcomes: Sensitive Dependence on Initial Conditions (SDIC). One example is the Continental Divide. Spit and it will eventually find its way to the Atlantic Ocean. Give your head a slight twist and spit again – its destiny is the Pacific. 

SDIC is why physicists can determine exactly where the planets will be in 10,000 years, but cannot predict where a fluttering feather will land.  Indeed, in order to calculate the position of an air molecule just one-ten-billionth of a second into the future, a physicist would need to take into account the gravitational force from each electron on the other side of the universe. That’s sensitive!

Meteorologists call it the “butterfly effect” because mathematical models show that the flap of a butterfly’s wings at just the right time and place in, say, Australia could produce a totally different weather system in North America two weeks later. 

A poem from antiquity captures the idea: For want of a nail, a shoe was lost. For want of a shoe, a horse was lost. For want of a horse, a rider was lost. For want of a rider, a battle was lost. For want of a battle, the kingdom was lost. 

 Al Gore understands it. He meticulously tended to every detail in the 2000 presidential election, but didn’t think to inspect the Florida ballots. A misleading design caused thousands to mistakenly vote for the wrong candidate. U.S. and world history has changed as a result. In David McCullough’s “1776”, the author explains that the outcome of the Revolutionary War depended on rolling fog hiding Washington’s army on one critical evening.  

In 334 BC, Alexander III of Mecedon narrowly escaped a death blow.  According to Princeton historian, Josiah Ober, had Alexander the Great been killed – goodbye to the Roman Empire, Christianity, Hellenism, and Western culture. Safe to say you wouldn’t be reading my column right now because neither of us would exist. 

All rather mind-blowing. But rather wonderful. In all likelihood, you will change the world. 

What is true faith?

HS #39 2018.10.11

What is true faith?

“Faith” is a word I have never understood. 

Part of the confusion occurs because the word is used in opposing ways.  This occurred recently at a conference.  One speaker explained that as evidence grows, our faith – that is our confidence – grows in proportion. The more supporting evidence one has, the more faith one has. Seemed reasonable. But then another speaker explained that “faith” fills the gap left by having incomplete evidence.  So the more evidence one has, the less faith one needs. 

As an example, consider a mother who sends her son and daughter to a store each with a grocery list and $20. The daughter has always returned with the correct items. The son sometimes loses the money or buys the wrong things.  

In which child does she have more faith?  Her confidence in her daughter is higher than in her son. Is this what "faith" means?  Or is she putting more faith in her son because the faith makes up – fills the gap - for the lack of confidence? 

Or is the verb significant: Does she HAVE more faith in her daughter, but PUT more faith in her son? 

Or is it incorrect to quantify faith? She has faith in both, never mind “how much.” 

These seem important questions for Christians in particular, since faith is central in Christianity. 

Jesus was comfortable quantifying faith; he talked about having the tiny faith of a mustard seed. 

The Apostle Paul claimed, “by grace are ye saved through faith.“  The Heidelberg Catechism (HC) agrees that only those with “true faith” are saved. But this, of course, raises the next question, “What is true faith?”

The HC’s answer: “True faith is a sure knowledge whereby I accept as true ALL [my emphasis] that God has revealed to us in his word. At the same time it is a firm confidence … ” But alas, this just raises more questions. 

 Does “all” really mean “all”? So then a person who doesn’t accept as true that the sun stood still for Joshua or that Jonah was swallowed by a fish is not saved? Seems severe. 

The HC also seems confused, even self-contradictory, as to whether faith is an active choice one makes or a state of mind not under one’s control.  

Consider the phrase, "a sure knowledge whereby I accept as true."  “Accept as true” implies making a choice. But what choice to believe is needed if the thing is already known for sure?   I have a sure knowledge that a bowl of Hudsonville Toasted Coconut ice cream (the best flavor ever invented) is on my lap.  I see it.  I smell it.  I taste it.  I feel the weight and the coolness, I hear the clunk when I knock it with my spoon. My friend confirms that it is there. So I am compelled to believe it (unless like George Berkeley or the solipsists I assert that the physical world doesn’t really exist). Conclusion:  No choice is needed to “accept as true” if one already has “a sure knowledge.” 

The confusion continues with the phrase  “a firm confidence.”   Whereas “accept as true” implies that faith is an act of volition,  “a firm confidence” implies that faith is a   state of mind not under one’s control, since one can’t choose to have confidence any more than one can choose to like ice cream.   So is faith a state of mind or an act of volition?   

Indeed, can a person choose to believe?  If I offered you $1000 for believing that I could levitate, would you believe it? COULD you believe it? The incentive is there, but can you choose to have faith? Perhaps the choice is whether you are honest with yourself and others concerning if you have faith. But whether or not you believe seems outside of your control.

Or suppose an entrepreneur advises four friends to invest their savings in a new company. One is confident and invests; one is skeptical, but invests nonetheless; the third believes it will likely be successful, but still doesn’t take the chance; and the fourth has no confidence and doesn’t invest. Which of these has faith? Is faith essentially an action one takes, or is it a state of mind?

So, does faith increase or decrease with supporting evidence? Is faith a matter of choice? If so does it require action?  Or is faith a state of mind not under our volition?  All questions to ponder. Thoughts are welcome.

Song Birds and Pedagogy

2018.9.13

Song Birds and Pedagogy

It’s a memory indelibly imprinted in my mind. My fifth-grade teacher, Mrs. Reeves, was entertaining several of us after school until the school bus came.  That day in class we had learned how to add fractions such as 1/5 + 2/5. She cut a pie into 5 pieces, took one piece and then two more, and we had 3/5 of the pie. Easy. 

Now she asked, “What is 1/3 + 1/2?”  I drew half a pie and a third of a pie and put them together, but that didn’t help. The denominators (bottoms of the fractions) were different, so the earlier method didn’t work. I was stumped. 

After letting us struggle a while, she gave a hint: Cut the 1/2 and the 1/3 into 6ths.

 Then I got it!   1/2 is the same amount as 3/6, and 1/3 is the same as 2/6, so we add 2/6 + 3/6 to get the answer: 5/6.  What a feeling of satisfaction.  The next day when she taught that lesson, I proudly displayed my superior intellect to the class. 

The next year my science teacher asked: Why isn’t it self-sustaining for a burner to heat water, steam from the water to spin a rotor, and the rotor create friction to heat the burner?  He let us think about it overnight before giving us the hint: Not ALL of the heat from the burner heats the water. Not ALL of the steam hits the blades. My hand shot up to give the answer: Energy is lost at each step in the process.  

Those truths of math and nature have stayed with me my entire life. But more importantly, I still use their method of teaching. Shamelessly taking the credit, I describe it to my students as Pennings Pedagogy Theory. 

Drawing a circle on the board, I explain to my students, “This is your brain. When I teach you something that you haven’t yet pondered, it’s like a stream of water [which I then draw above the circle] running over the top of the circle. A little seeps into the brain, but most runs off the sides.”

However, I continue to explain, if students become invested in the problem either via a teacher’s challenge or from their own inherent interest (the advantage of teaching sex education), then a divot is formed in the top of the circle – their brain - so the material collects and sinks in.

So that is how I teach. As I explain new material, the lecture is pitted with silent periods where I ask students to solve the next step. Either they figure it out, confirming that they fully understand, or else they get stumped, thereby forming a mental divot.  Then they are (hopefully) all ears and get a satisfying “ah ha!” sensation when I give the solution. 

This summer I taught a graduate course in Urban Education in Mathematics at Davenport University.  The K-12 teachers and I together explored the challenges of teaching students who may come from homes where they have not been exposed to the rich learning environment that others have experienced. These students have not formed as many mental divots. For example, as a child I learned about area and volume by playing with wooden blocks. A rectangle of 4 by 7 requires 28 blocks  (the area), and if I stacked them three high, then the volume is 4x7x3=84. It’s also clear by re-orientating that 4x7x3=7x3x4, so the order of multiplication doesn’t change the answer.  Children self-discover these important mathematical concepts just by playing with block towers. Their minds are now primed – divots formed - to formalize the concepts in school. 

It’s just as fun as we grow older. When I was advisor for the Hope College Outdoor Adventure Club, I kept vanloads of college students entertained for hours asking them math and logic puzzles. Just like Mrs. Reeves, I posed the questions and their natural curiosity and competitive spirit did the rest. 

The method was applied to me this summer when I camped and fished in the BWCA (Boundary Water Canoe Area) with my college friend of 40 years.  Tom knew each bird we encountered – either by appearance or song – and kept asking me if I knew.  I have enjoyed bird songs all my life, but never had the curiosity to determine the name of the bird. Now, thanks to Tom’s enthusiasm and prodding, I have started forming and filling my own mental divots and consequently my life has just become richer. 

Rule of Law versus Compassion

HS #37 2018.8.10

   Rule of Law versus Compassion

Woody Allen once said, “Not only is there no God, but try finding a plumber on Sunday.” In similar contraposition, two notable things happened this summer, Anthony Kennedy announced his retirement from the Supreme Court and I read Herman Melville’s Moby Dick.

Melville and Kennedy wrestled with the same issue: How to make decisions when our compassionate moral sense conflicts with our obligation to follow existing law? 

  In Billy Bud, Melville’s less known but more readable novel, Billy was a young, innocent, eminently likable sailor conscripted to a British war ship. Billy quickly wins the hearts of everyone except the darkly evil Master-at-Arms, who is threatened by Billy’s innocent goodness. Noticing that Billy has a speech impediment, he falsely accuses Billy in front of the Captain knowing that Billy will not be able to defend himself. Unable to contain himself, Billy strikes the Master-at-Arms who falls back, strikes his head, and dies. 

The officers are then confronted with a terrible choice. The maritime law is clear: Even striking an officer during wartime is a capital offense - Billy must hang. However, it is also clear to the captain and other officers that Billy was falsely accused and trapped by the conniving officer. 

What is the right thing to do? Should they honor their oaths to scrupulously follow the maritime law, or follow their own inner moral compass and spare Billy both for his own sake and for the morale of the crew? 

The Danish philosopher Soren Kierkegaard raised the same question regarding Abraham’s awful decision: Obey God, or spare his innocent son? Abraham was spared the action, but not the choice. 

We proudly proclaim that the U.S. follows the “Rule of Law.” This is easy when the Rule of Law is pitted against nepotism and self-centered whim of the rulers. But what to do when the Rule of Law conflicts with our compassionate moral sensibilities? 

 Conservatives and liberals have different answers. Consider:

The unifying theme of conservatives regarding Supreme Court justices is “We want justices who will follow the Constitution.” That was also Trump’s answer when asked in a presidential debate. Supreme Court nominee Gorsuch explained that by scrupulously following the law, a good justice will at times be forced to make rulings he doesn’t personally like. 

What in contrast is the unifying theme of liberals? Hillary Clinton expressed it in her answer to the same question:  Justices should have varied life experiences and (implied) be compassionate and empathetic. 

Granted, thoughtful, compassionate Supreme Court justices like Ginsberg, Kagan and Sotomayor serve as a buffer against the “tyranny of the majority” - the unfortunate consequence of democracy where the minority’s welfare is disregarded. But when did any of them make a ruling they didn’t like? 

 Instead, liberal justices focus more on doing the right, compassionate thing as they see it.  Following their inner moral conviction seems to be the bottom line instead of rigorously following the law. Similarly, those protesting the treatment of illegal immigrants don’t claim that laws are violated. Instead they argue for compassion regardless of the law. 

Do liberals then believe in the Rule of Law? Do they even wrestle with it as did Justice Kennedy, or do they just follow their internal moral compass no matter the existing law? 

 If so, then liberals are at odds with America’s pastime: A baseball umpire once claimed, “I call balls and strikes as I see them.” But another retorted, “They ain’t nothing until I call them.” 

Indeed, even baseball follows the Rule of Law. It’s the call – not the reality - that counts.  In 2010, Tiger pitcher Galarraga was denied an historic perfect game by an umpire’s missed call. All (especially the umpire) were heartbroken, but – following the rules - the call stands.  Billy Bud was hanged. Severe and unbending, THAT’S the Rule of Law. 

Is that then our obligation? Was Attorney General Sessions right when he quoted Romans 13 – obey the laws of the government? Or is there also a place for Acts 5:29, “We must obey God rather than men.”

In fact, did the framers of our Constitution themselves follow the Rule of Law? The Declaration of Independence eloquently speaks of not only the right but also the duty to throw off destructive government. The following century, American icon Henry Thoreau advocated civil disobedience – disobeying unjust laws. 

So which do we follow when Rule of Law and our compassionate convictions conflict? Good question to ponder  - for liberal and conservative alike. 

The Power of Words

HS #36   2018.7.3

The Power of Words

 “You’ll be the same person in five years as you are today except for the books you’ve read, the people you’ve met, and the places you’ve gone.”  Lots of truth to that adage. After taking a long-awaited trip to Scotland, a wonderful country, I returned with a new appreciation of this one.  For one significant reason:  The U.S.A was built on the power of words. 

The idea struck me while taking a tour of Edinburgh Castle, culminating in viewing the Crown Jewels of Scotland.  They are magnificent – a crown, a scepter, a sword, and The Stone of Destiny.  These items have been used throughout the centuries to symbolize the power and authority of the Scottish rulers.  The Stone – a 300 pound chunk of sandstone – was the object upon which the early kings of Scotland were bestowed as rulers, and it has been used ever since in the coronations of England and Scotland.  Residing for 700 years in Westminster Abbey, England returned the Stone to Scotland in 1996, but still calls it back to be set under the thrown when each new monarch is crowned. 

Seeing these revered objects – all protected under thick glass, I was reminded of the novel, “The Lord of the Flies.”  A group of young boys is marooned on an island. Starting out well, rivalries and conflict develop, and a conch shell is chosen as the symbol of power. Whoever has it, has the authority to speak. 

Rather silly, but that has been the method of bestowing and displaying power throughout the centuries. Consider the exalted pulpits used in cathedrals, the robe and cap of the pope, the stars on the uniforms of generals, signet rings of ancient Rome and Egypt, the Chinese five-clawed dragon robes, and the crown jewels and coat of arms of European rulers. 

How radically brilliant it was then for our Founding Fathers to reject all such physical symbols. Instead of crown jewels protected under thick glass, we have the original copies of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence - words on a piece of paper - protected by bullet-proof glass and ready to descend into a deep vault at any threat of danger. 

Instead of receiving a scepter and crown, the President-elect says words - simple words of the oath of office. Repeating those 35 words is necessary and sufficient to become the next President of the United States. 

Indeed, our faith in those words is so powerful that in 2009 when Supreme Court Chief Justice John Roberts and President-elect Obama slightly muffed up the oath of office, they repeated it the next day – correctly.  Google “Swearing In Ceremony of Gerald Ford” for a West Michiganer’s thoughts on the Oath. Note how the Chief Justice addresses Ford before and after he takes the oath.   

How interesting this all is! Our Founding Fathers are rightfully credited with establishing a new form of government – a republic where the power is held by the people rather than by a royal family or ruling class. The method of delegating that power – via the election of a president and representatives with oversight by appointed justices - is also recognized as an historical innovation.  But along with these, less noted but no less revolutionary, the Founding Fathers also realized that the symbols of authority should not be objects, but words.  They believed in the power of words. 

It is appropriate then that our two greatest presidents were instrumental in cementing that new faith. After eight years in office, President Washington willingly gave up his authority when John Adams became the second person to say the oath of office.  This allowed for the peaceful transfer of power, prompting King George III to say of Washington, “If he does that, he shall be the greatest man in the world.” 

And 63 years later, President Lincoln reflected back on the previous century and looked forward with hope when he exclaimed that a nation so founded would long endure. At just one point in that speech Lincoln erred. He said  “The world will little note nor long remember what we say here . . . “ In that statement he was mistaken, since the Gettysburg Address, which I memorized as a fifth-grader and can still recite, follows only the Sermon on the Mount on the TIME list of Speeches that Changed the World. Maybe even Lincoln underestimated how much we in the U.S.A. value the power of words. It’s a heritage in which we can all take pride. 

Mathematics versus Truth

HS #35 2018.6.5

Mathematics versus Truth

Mathematics versus Truth – what does that mean? Isn’t mathematics the prime example of truth? Not so fast. The story begins 2300 years ago with Euclid. He was the first to ask, “Is geometry true? How do we know?” Geometry had been used successfully for thousands of years to build the Parthenon and pyramids, but that wasn’t enough for Euclid. He wanted certainty.

Euclid realized that he didn’t have to accept all 470 geometry facts (theorems) as true. Instead, beginning with just five (axioms) as the foundation, the other 465 could be proved via mathematical argument. 

With that accomplishment, which you likely studied in high school, geometry was considered the prime example of truth for the next two millennia. The great philosopher Immanuel Kant based his argument for the existence of truth on Euclid’s geometry.  

But just as Elijah’s servant noticed a little cloud no larger than a man’s hand, trouble loomed on the horizon.  Mathematicians had always been reluctant to accept one axiom: that parallel lines (lines that never intersect) exist. No one doubted its truth – they just weren’t comfortable assuming it as an axiom. So they tried to prove it as a theorem.  Their method was to assume it was false and show that geometry falls apart as a result.

That’s when the world changed.  Geometry DIDN’T fall apart. Instead, they just invented other types of geometry. As with Euclid’s, the new geometries were fully self-consistent; they just followed different rules and described different worlds. It’s much like changing the rules of a card game. As long as no contradictions follow, the new rules give rise to perfectly fine new games. 

Ironically, one new geometry that was discovered is the one we live on. Just as one gets straight lines on a plane by pulling a string tight, so also a taut string joining any two points on a globe gives a straight line, called a great circle, in spherical geometry. The equator and longitude lines are great circles. You can form many others. Notice that ALL of these lines intersect. There are no parallel lines. 

Then in the 1600’s Rene Descartes took Euclid’s question a step further. How do we know that ANYTHING is true? His own attempt at a foundational axiom (I think, therefore I am) got mathematicians wondering about the truth of all mathematics. 

The logician Frege spent ten years trying to prove the truth of mathematics by using set theory - the study of collections of things – as its foundation. Seems simple enough. It’s so simple that after Sputnik was launched, the shocked U.S. started teaching set theory in elementary school as part of the new math.  

But as with the geometry axioms, there was a hidden crack in the foundation, and Bertrand Russell found it. Russell, a great polymath, found a logical contradiction similar to the self-referencing statement, “This sentence is false.” (Think about it – is that sentence true or false? See the problem?) 

Russell took no joy in his discovery. He was a famous atheist (authored “Why I am not a Christian”) who wanted certainty in life and thought it only found in mathematics. He, together with Alfred Whitehead, spent fifteen years constructing a foundation for mathematics based on logic. But the foundation he sought proved elusive. It was much deeper and harder to attain than he realized. It was only on page 360 of Volume 2 of his unreadable tome, Principia Mathematica, where he finally proved that 1+1=2. (No kidding!) 

Kurt Gdel, a friend of Einstein, dealt the final blow to an easy relationship between truth and mathematics by proving that not all mathematical truths are provable. Starting to sound insane? Well, he likely was – Gdel died of starvation because he was afraid of being poisoned. 

Is all of this just a story of eggheads squabbling over nonsense? Hardly.  These discoveries have raised anew Pilate’s question, “What is truth?” The resulting waves have spread through other disciplines and cultures to our daily lives.  It is most certainly a contributing factor to the rise of post modernism that calls into question all assertions of truth. One personal example: In college I was active in Campus Crusade for Christ. We brought the CCC author and Christian apologist Josh McDowell to campus to speak. I met him again a few years ago when he spoke at Central Wesleyan. He said that in the 1970’s students would object to his truth claims of Christianity with, “That’s not true!” Now the objection is, “You’re not being tolerant.” 

Reflecting on Reflecting

HS #34 2018.5.1

Reflecting on Reflecting

A few years ago I celebrated Christmas with my sister in Fargo in the midst of Lutheran country. We attended a Christmas vespers service at a Lutheran church and I was struck by the grandeur of its modern sanctuary. Majestic stone and brick walls loomed high, punctuated by stained glass. Even before the service began, I felt myself transported into another time and space. 

Thinking back on that evening, I’ve wondered why so few modern churches have sanctuaries – most have auditoriums. Here’s the difference:  A sanctuary, even when empty, has a presence, an energy and ambiance, of its own. Test: A sanctuary is a place one might go alone to reflect and meditate.

Why so few modern sanctuaries? Does the paucity of sanctuaries point to our lack of valuing quiet reflection? In the present age, we seem instead to crave activity.

I remember as a young child going to see July 4^thfireworks in a city park of Lincoln Nebraska. Lying back on the prairie ground, with the warm alfalfa breeze wafting over, we heard a faint hissssss as the invisible projectile made its way into the silent evening sky.  We waited in anticipation until our patience was rewarded with a burst of sound and color, bringing a low chorus of “ahhs” that rose above the cricket splashed quietness. The power was in the contrasts: solitude versus community, stillness versus explosions, dark sky verses bright flashes.    

I also remember communion services from my childhood. There were extended periods of organ music as a backdrop for personal reflection as each element was passed and then taken together. Even as a child, I found myself anticipating the time of silence. 

Are these times of quiet reflection being replaced by a more-is-better doctrine of ever-present activity, ubiquitous cell phones, and saturation of our senses? (For a striking example, notice the distracting plethora of lime-green signs at the pedestrian crosswalks on 9^thStreet.) 

My high school band instructor once commented that just as a painter needs to begin with a clean canvas, so also the creative process of making music together requires a background of silence.  In a “Point to Ponder” from a recent Readers Digest, a neuroscientist agreed, “People used to wait in line at the checkout and daydream. Now they pull out their phones and go into the digital world. This is a missed opportunity to reflect, to relax, to be mindful of the moment. Creativity lives in those quiet places.”  Indeed,  CPA – Continuous Partial Attention – the state of constantly waiting/listening for a cell phone to ring, robs even the silent times of their potential for relaxed reflection. It’s noteworthy that teen depression and suicide increased markedly in 2012 with the advent of smart phones. 

How interesting that we have ignored the advice that comes from our most trusted sources. In the Christian tradition, Jesus retreated alone in the wilderness and often pulled away from the crowds. Moses got away to the top of Mount Sinai. David’s character was forged on the hillsides of Palestine tending sheep. Safe to say that none of them carried a cellphone. 

Indeed, freedom from distractions is doubtless why much great literature has been written in prison. John Bunyan’s “Pilgrim Progress”, MLK Jr.’s “Letters from a Birmingham Prison,” letters of the Apostle Paul, and even Adolf Hitler’s “Mein Kampf” all come to mind.  Other prison authors include Marco Polo, Sir Walter Raleigh, Martin Luther, Napoleon Bonaparte, Dostoevsky, Oscar Wilde, E. E. Cummings, and O. Henry.  That’s an impressive list. 

Malcolm X got himself the equivalent of a college education while in prison and observed that it is easier to get an education in prison than at college where there are so many distractions.  Agreed. The lives of many college students are spent rushing frantically from one social activity to another. 

The key to good living – as always - is balance: time for activity and time for quiet reflection and rest. A number of years ago one of my students – popular and active - came to me with a concern. He had his sights set on medical school, but his grades, while good, were likely not good enough for him to meet his goal. To control his activities, I gave him one suggestion: Decide on a regular bedtime and stick to it. Three years later, graduating and off to medical school, he thanked me for the advice. The next time I saw him – about 10 years later at a Hope basketball game - he was a thoracic surgeon. 

Inspired by Students

HS #32  2018.3.6

Inspired by Students

Last month I did it again. The first time I forgot to teach a class was twenty-five years ago. Busy in my office, I looked at my watch and realized that I was fifteen minutes late. I sprinted across the hall and found the classroom empty.  Granted, the students could have come gotten me, but taking the day off seemed a better deal. That’s par.  

Last month I was similarly caught up while I was supposed to be teaching a 3:00-5:00 class at Davenport University. At 4:00 I got an email from one of the students saying he had left and would study on his own.  I raced upstairs – an hour late – expecting to find another empty classroom. Instead, everyone else was still there. One of the students had the board filled with his own impromptu math lecture  – pretty close to what I would have done. The others were dutifully taking notes.

I love surprises like that - teaching is full of them. I turn 60 this month and realize that I have spent exactly half of that time as a teacher. In one of my favorite movies, A Man for All Seasons, Sir Thomas Moore advises Richard Rich, “be a teacher.” A teacher is something one IS, not does.

Indeed, after mastering the material and learning techniques of pedagogy, one becomes a better teacher mostly by becoming a better person. Want proof? Who were your favorite couple of teachers? Agree?

A teacher can learn valuable teaching lessons anywhere. I am more empathetic with my students because of a summer construction job I had while in college. The gruff foreman sent me to the shed to get “6-penny nails.” Not wanting to incur his scorn by admitting ignorance, I choose a nail that looked right and brought them back. I still remember his disdain as he held them up for all to see, “Look what college boy thinks is a 6-penny nail!” I laughed (inwardly) at his derision. Just because he had been around 6-penny nails for 40 years, why did he expect me to know what they were? I keep that in mind now – sometimes telling students in mock exasperation, “Why don’t you know this algebra – I’ve been doing it for 50 years!”  The magician David Copperfield made the same point, “Any eight year old could do these tricks with twenty years of experience.”

Primarily, I have (hopefully) become a better person through interactions with students. Just this past week I had life-challenging conversations with several. One of them has two jobs, but is still finding time to read “The Stranger” by Camus and Dickens’ “A Tale of Two Cities” – just for the enjoyment and enrichment. That inspires me.

Another gave up his sights on Stanford because he figured that he could learn just as much far less expensively close to home if he was intentional about pushing himself. Part of his plan is to seek out new experiences. I asked him what he had recently done. The previous Sunday he had visited a Catholic church for the first time. How interesting. How many conversations have I had with western Michigan folk who spend thousands of dollars to travel to foreign countries to be immersed in other cultures for a week. He is getting rich experiences in cultural immersion within his own neighborhood.

Yet another explained that their Intervarsity Christian Fellowship chapter of 60-70 students had spent the previous week’s meeting discussing, “What I like most about my race/ethnic group” as part of a series on whether it’s good to be “color blind.” How dangerous is that! We professional educators tend to keep things safe and can be threatened when not in control. Yet these students, bound together by their common faith, were willing to take the risk.

I have also been heartened by the protesting MSU students, and I got goose bumps when I heard that Hope College students seeking change from the college dropped flyers from the balcony at Vespers this past Christmas. They didn’t know it, but they were carrying the torch of some of their professors who, as Hope students in the 60’s, protested the Vietnam War by “crashing” the Tulip Time parade.  

All of these students inspire and challenge us all to become better people by seizing the day. They are living out the ideals of the Mary Oliver poem that I recently discovered: 

Tell me

what is it you plan to do 

with your one wild and precious life?

Presidents' Day

HS # 31  2018.2.5

Presidents’ Day

What does it take to lead a country? Is it possible, for example, to have an effective leader who i) is unpolished, with no prior political experience, ii) seems focused on his own needs and situation, iii) gets into fights regularly, hitting back hard - and often unfairly - because it is an effective way to win, iv) can’t control his tongue – gets himself into trouble repeatedly because he can’t just keep quiet, v) has his career threatened momentarily by the way he treats women but still wins in the end, vi) is impulsive and erratic, giving little deep or reflective thought to his actions, vii) is excessively concerned about keeping his hair, viii)  marries a foreign wife, ix)  lives this sort of a life even without drinking alcohol?

Unlikely leader to be sure, but Sampson was the leader of Israel for twenty years. And even though an unsavory character personally, he was able to accomplish some things and help Israel in certain ways not only in spite of, but because of his rather unique “skill set.” Indeed, his self-centered, vindictive temperament was crucial to his success. Had he not taken a hard line on his enemies and sought revenge, his extraordinary strength would have been of no use.  Gladly, his type of leadership was not needed for long, so it eventually passed on to those with different temperaments and value systems.  Shows the wisdom and value of limiting the terms of leaders.

Indeed, looking backwards, our nation has also been served well by bringing in new leaders on a regular basis (codified into law in 1951 with the 22^nd Amendment). Not only does a new broom sweep clean, but also, whatever weaknesses are present in a leader will be endured only for a limited period.

Although our Founding Fathers had a deep mistrust of those with power, interestingly, they did not rule out the possibility of a president serving for an extended period of time.  However, they seemed to know instinctively that it would not be good for the nation. Upon hearing that George Washington was returning to his plantation after two terms, King George III famously said, “If he does that, he will be the greatest man in the world.”

He did, and quite possibly he was. Feels good, doesn’t it, to reflect back on some of our virtuous leaders of time past. Let’s do a bit more. It’s good for the soul. Here are a few anecdotes you may not know.

Bess Truman was once asked if she could get her husband to stop using the word manure. “Stop? It took me twenty years to get him to use that word!”

John Adams was more refined.  With solid puritanical background and lifestyle, unlike Franklin and Jefferson, while in France he found the extravagant French lifestyle quite disagreeable. Then he became ambassador to Holland and fell in love with the Dutch people.  He wrote home to Abigail that no people are more deserving of respect than the Dutch for their pursuit of learning and the arts and their lack of greed. “Their industry and economy ought to be examples to the world.”  But after spending more time with them, even this Puritan was disgusted by their “littleness of soul” and “a general littleness from the incessant contemplation of pennies and nickels.”

Although that stings a bit, I appreciate Adams because of his appreciation of the liberal arts.  He reflected, “I am a revolutionary so my son can be a farmer, so his son can be a poet.”

JFK and Jefferson were two towering intellects who valued the life of learning.  Once when President Kennedy hosted a group of Nobel Laureates for dinner, he opened with the remark: “I think this is the most extraordinary collection of talent, of human knowledge, that has ever been gathered together at the White House, with the possible exception of when Thomas Jefferson dined alone.”

Teddy Roosevelt is maybe my favorite. The man was bold and brash, but also wise. His love of adventure and of the great out of doors and his forward vision led to our National Park system. But he was also a philosopher. Listen to him: “Only those are fit to live who do not fear to die. And none are fit to die who have shrunk from the joy of life and the duty of life. Both life and death are part of the same Great Adventure.” I have had that quote on my desk for years.