Ecclesiastes and Leaf Cutter Ants

 HS #77 2021.12.9

 

Ecclesiastes and Leaf Cutter Ants

 

 

I have long been inspired by the sage wisdom of Ecclesiastes. Several years ago, I attended a wedding where the couple wove three strands of cord together representing their lives being joined together with God. It was inspired, no doubt, by Eccl 4:11 “A threefold cord is not quickly broken.” 

 

It inspired me to compose a song, “Bound and Woven,” for such occasions: “AS we bind our hearts together, Asking God to make us one, May the union of our spirits, Glorify thy Son.   AS we weave our live’s ambitions, Into a single common dream, May your purpose and your pleasure, Ever be our theme. AS our lives grow bound and woven, Intertwined oh God with thee, A three-fold cord not quickly broken, Union of mystery.” (Song at my YouTube channel: timothy j pennings)

 

Indeed, it’s an interesting topological truth that while a rope of two strands twisted together and fastened at the ends can be unraveled and pulled apart, this cannot be done when three strands are woven together. Three strands woven together and secured at the ends is inseparable. What an insight – from 3000 years ago!

 

Such gems of wisdom from Ecclesiastes have inspired much music and poetry: “To everything – turn, turn, turn, there is a season - -“ (The Byrds, 1962).  “Dust in the Wind - all we are is dust in the wind“ (Kansas, 1977). 

 

But while such nuggets of wisdom resonate with all, there is less consensus about the overriding themes of Ecclesiastes.  

 

As I read the book, the theme of the first several chapters is living with contentment. The key is to lower one’s expectations.  Though not discussing Ecclesiastes, C.S. Lewis made the same point in one of his essays. If two people are forced to live in a poor quality hotel for a month, the first having been told s/he was going to prison, while the second told s/he was going to a luxury retreat, then the first will be satisfied, and the second not. All depends on one’s expectations.

 

How does the author of Ecclesiastes lower our expectations? He first tells us (Chapter 1) not to expect anything better in the future than what we presently have. There is nothing new under the sun.

 

Then (Chapter 2) he tells us (we who has not had his rich life experiences) that the things we imagine might bring us pleasure and fulfillment all fail to satisfy: wine, achievements, gardens, slaves, flocks and herds, treasure, concubines.  We have to take his word for some of those! (My high school English teacher said his doctor warned that he was getting too much “wine, women and song” - so he stopped whistling.)

 

Then at the end of Chapter 2, after showing us that nothing present and nothing to come will bring fulfillment and happiness, he gives the bottom line: “There is nothing better than that one should eat and drink and find enjoyment in his toil.”  That’s it. “This is from the hand of God.” Don’t expect more. 

 

In Chapter 3, the author underscores this point by reminding us that, although we have a sense of eternity, we have no assurance of life beyond this one (vs 18-22). Concluding, he emphasizes yet again, “Enjoy your work – that is your lot. For who can see what will come after?”  Don’t expect more – there is no guarantee of anything better. 

 

Fascinating that our Founding Fathers (especially Jefferson) understood this wisdom. The Declaration of Independence asserts that rights given by our Creator include life, liberty and THE PURSUIT OF happiness. Life and liberty are rights in and of themselves. But we have no right to happiness. There is no such guarantee. We are granted only the opportunity to pursue it. 

 

Can one be content with the daily routine of work and activity? The author of Ecclesiastes may also have written the proverb exhorting us to learn from the ant.   When touring the Amazon rainforest, I was fascinated by the 100 foot stream of leaf-cutter ants, one line heading away from the denuded tree each with a portion of cut leaf, the other line heading back for another. 

The most complex animal society functioning because each is content to do their part. 

 

Martin Luther seemed to agree with this approach to life. When a cobbler asked him how he could serve God, Luther replied, “Make better shoes.”  

Veterans Day - Our Obligation

 HS #76 2021.11.11

 

Veterans Day – Our Obligation

 

Today is Veterans Day. My fifth grade teacher helped me appreciate the sacrifice of veterans by requiring that we memorize the Gettysburg Address. I still recite it – trying to say it as I think Lincoln would have. 

 

Its memorization is worth the effort.  Lincoln was the secondary speaker at Gettysburg. The main speech - given by Edward Everett, a famous orator and former Secretary of State, was two hours long. Then Lincoln spoke - giving his speech in two minutes.  Everett wrote to Lincoln the next day, "I should be glad if I could flatter myself that I came as near to the central idea of the occasion in two hours as you did in two minutes."

 

Lincoln was able to distill the essence of the U.S. experiment in democracy into 273 words because he had been thinking and living it nonstop in the crucible of a conflict – a conflict which threatened to tear the union apart. The vision of our country – past, present and future – crystalized in his mind. 

 

If you find it and read it, you’ll notice something strange. In this elegant, succinct, smooth-flowing address, there is a pair of sentences which seems awkward and redundant. The reason, I think, is that these two sentences form the focal point and the focal joint of the address. This transitional thought was so important to Lincoln, that he essentially said it twice. 

 

The first part of the speech tells of the sacrifice of the soldiers and the ceremony to honor them. Then comes “BUT”. “BUT in a larger sense, WE cannot dedicate, WE cannot consecrate, WE cannot hollow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here have consecrated it far about OUR poor power to add or detract. The world will little note nor long remember what we say here (turned out to be false!), but it can never forget what they did here.” So Lincoln is making the point that ceremony and speeches and gravestones are not adequate. He does not allow the listeners - then or now - to get easily off the hook with a simple day of remembrance. Observing Veterans Day is not enough. What then is our obligation? 

 

Then comes his answer – repeated twice for emphasis: “It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us.”  

 

For Lincoln, the essential way to honor the sacrifice of veterans was not by giving speeches and putting flowers on their graves, but by resolving to devote ourselves to “the great task remaining before us.” 

 

But what is that great task? And how do we devote ourselves to it?

 

Lincoln answered the first question. Quite simply, the great task is that we keep government of the people, by the people, for the people from perishing. This is no small task. At the time of Lincoln’s speech, these United States had been a nation for less than a century. In fact, before the Civil War, the “United States” was considered a plural. Folks said, “The United States ARE . .  “ Only after the War of the Rebellion did people begin to say “The United States IS . . “ The Civil War welded us together. 

 

We have now been a union for over two centuries, but we still should not take our existence for granted. It is clear from history that democracy is not necessarily a stable state. It needs to be conscientiously groomed and maintained. 

 

How? Having just finished Walter Isaacson’s biography of Ben Franklin, it’s striking that the essential element that Franklin brought to the Constitutional Convention which laid our foundation is the same quality of mind that we vitally need now: The moral duty to consider opposing views and to compromise. It stemmed simply from his realization that he was fallible. 

 

Franklin also had unwavering faith in the middleclass. Power should reside with the people – with ALL the people, not just the wealthy and elite.  He likely would have approved of our recent election of the first president in forty years who didn’t attend an Ivy League school. Indeed, it was Franklin’s sort of vision which eventually brought a self-educated rail-splitter from the Midwest to the White House. A gangly commoner who charges us to take the torch from the veterans and carry it forward. 

 

 

 

Long Live Liberal Arts

  

HS #75 2021.10.14

 

Long Live Liberal Arts

 

Introductions first: 

 

I met Andrew while waiting for a stalled train by Hope College. I asked him the dinner question I have asked such Hope seniors for 30 years: How are you a different person now than when you arrived at Hope College? 

 

I have heard many thoughtful answers, but his brought a lump to my throat: “Professor Ortiz taught me how to see beauty. He showed me how to slow down when I read Augustine’s “City of God” and appreciate the beauty.” 

 

I can’t think of a better testimony to the liberal arts – disciplines meant to liberate the mind. 

 

Meet Yamir - my 18-year-old Hispanic housemate who responded to my Craigslist room-for-rent ad.  Yamir recently graduated from high school in Tulsa OK and is seeking a way to get a college degree in psychology. He brought two suitcases with him – the larger one filled with favorite novels. He recently received an Amazon package: “The Best Poems of the English Language” and a favorite epic DVD: “Ben Hur.”   We take turns showing our favorites. Last evening, he had the privilege of watching “Casablanca” for the first time.  Unlike most of his generation, he watches movies without his phone on his lap. In our subsequent discussion, he stumped me, “If Lazlo had to choose between his wife and his cause, which would he choose? (If you haven’t yet seen “Casablanca” put it on your bucket list.)

 

Yamir loves the liberal arts. 

 

Let me introduce you to “Floor Fienz Family.” If you frequent Holland’s Thursday 8^th Street Entertainers, you have likely seen them. They are the break-dancers who draw the overflowing crowds and represent Holland as they travel the country. Break dancing is the improv “jazz” version of dance. Mastering their art requires athleticism, appreciation of music and dance, understanding of the body, engagement with the audience, and tenacious practice.  Hope College should sponsor a joint Hope - Floor Fienz dance concert. Spanning cultures, it would be the very best of the liberal arts. 

 

I don’t know his name, but this past weekend I got into a conversation with a 26-year-old skateboarder at Smallenburg Park who was jumping OVER picnic tables on his board. Except for a couple missing teeth, he was unscathed from his years of practice. No money. No medals. No audience. Just the thrill of perfecting his leaping much as Jonathan Livingston Seagull perfected his flying. He may not know the term, but he is a pure liberal artist – as pure as they come. 

 

As are those who paint the colorful murals on railroad cars. As was the 10-year-old African American boy who coming out of a Hope College violin recital exclaimed, “That made my throat dance!” As are my computer game-design students at Davenport University who – know it or not – are engaged in perhaps the newest form of artistry. 

 

Of course, there is also value in studying the liberal arts.  When I give math talks in high schools, I explain that one can get a great education and learn about life by traveling, or getting a job, or joining the military, or, for that matter, living on the street. But one can only learn the greatest things ever discovered by the human mind via study of the liberal arts. 

 

But learning  ABOUT the liberal arts is not as valuable as actually DOING them. Emerson admonished young men to be out in the world creating their own adventures rather than sitting in a library reading the adventures of others. C.S. Lewis explained that while a map is needed in finding a mountain lake, it is not as valuable as sitting by the lake. 

 

However, there is no need to choose betwixt them. A life is enriched both by studying the liberal arts and by being engaged in them. This is what led President John Adams to reflect, “I am a revolutionary so my son can be a farmer, so his son can be a poet.” Or the counsel of my college physics professor, “If you only know what you have to know, you are just one step from being ignorant.” 

 

More broadly, a life is enriched by engaging in what Bertrand Russell sarcastically termed “useless knowledge.” In his essay, “In Praise of Idleness” Russell argued that during WWII, England devoted half of its energy to the war and still produced enough for all to live. So he suggested a 20 hour work week for all with the balance devoted to living rich lives. Something to ponder. 

Living with Others

 HS #74 2020.9.9

 

 Living with Others

 

As is my custom, I spent several weeks this past July and August at my UP cabin on the Au Train River. Wanting to leave all Lower Peninsula negatives at the Bridge, I maintain a natural indigenous wildflower lawn. That is, I don’t cut it. (Gladly, Au Train is more liberally minded than Holland in such things.) As a result, the area around the cabin is filled with flying insects. 

 

The lepidoptera (scaly winged) are my favorite. Monarchs are beautiful and graceful as they flit from milkweed to milkweed. I saw one burst from its chrysalis, stretch its wings to dry them, and then make a wobbly flight to a nearby milkweed plant managing to land on target. Amazing!

 

Even more amazing are the giant dragonflies. They can fly forwards, backwards, upside down, hover, or speed at 30 mi/hour – all without making a sound. They look ferocious, but are friendly and winsome. During one kayak trip down the river, fourteen of them alighted on the front of my kayak ostensibly to get a free ride, surveying the area for meals without having to expend energy. A couple years ago I found one in the river – its wings caught on the surface of the water. I gently lifted it out with my paddle and laid it inside the kayak. It stayed there for several minutes, calm and resting, as its wings dried. Then it revved to life and gratefully flew away. Now I imagine each of these visitors as being its progeny – all coming to say “Hi” and “Thanks.” One even circled around inside the kayak – obviously to rid it of any biting pests.

 

It’s easy to love monarchs and dragonflies. 

 

But, while splitting logs in the backyard, I tossed a chunk of wood behind me and instantly felt a sharp pain in the tender area behind my knee. I scurried away and noticed from a distance that small dark hornets were entering and exiting an old rodent hole. My leg ached for a day and then itched for a day before I could forget about it. Not pleasant. 

 

But those ground hornets were not nearly as ominous looking as the large ground wasps which made a home at the water’s edge of my kayak landing. Instead of buzzing off in a hurry as did the hornets, these monsters fly slowly and treacherously – with obvious confidence that other animals will give them clearance. Their abdomens hang low - filled with venom. 

 

Some cabin guests bought me a spray can of Black Flag which had a warming that it was extremely toxic to fish and other aquatic life.  So I checked online and discovered that dish soap in water is also effectively lethal since the soap allows the water to soak through their exoskeleton. Seemed that quickly covering the holes with sand and then pouring soapy water through it should do the job. 

 

 

 

It seemed wise to be proactive. Why wait to get stung again. So I dressed in fully battle gear – two layers of pants, two shirts, hat and mosquito net carefully tucked into the collar of my shirt. I waited until dusk as per the instructions and advanced towards the hornet hole weapons in hand. But I stopped. 

 

I started thinking: These hymenoptera (social insects) have been buzzing around the yard for weeks without bothering me.  I got stung only when I unknowingly tossed a log on their home. Otherwise, they seem quite content to go about their business leaving me alone. 

 

I used to be afraid of bees, but these past weeks I had spent hours picking wild raspberries with the buzz of bees all around. I have learned over the years that we are friends – even partners – and they have no reason to sting me. 

 

Perhaps these small jetting hornets and evil looking hovering wasps are the same. Just perhaps all they want is to live their lives as do I. Perhaps I look as big of a threat to them as they do to me. But perhaps they have more sense. They are doing just fine – thank you – leaving me alone. Why do I feel compelled to exterminate them?

 

Perhaps, instead, the real danger is inside of me – a terror which wants to destroy things that look scary – that I have been conditioned to fear.  Just perhaps, instead of overcoming my neighbors, the wasps and hornets, I need to overcome my fear.  Perhaps these neighbors are decent folk after all. Worth considering.  

 

 

Memories of Elliot

 HS #73 2021.8.12

 

Memories of Elliot

 

Nine years ago after my folks had died and I left Hope College, I made a Pro and Con sheet about whether to begin new adventures elsewhere or stay in Holland, my home of 25 years. In the “Holland Pro” column I included, “Be able to attend the funerals of old friends - especially Elliot Tanis.”

 

Having recently died at the age of 87 – just two months after discontinuing tennis with his friends of fifty years – I want to dedicate this column to Elliot – a remarkable person. 

 

My relationship with Elliot is just over 100 years old. That is when, as I understand, his father and my grandfather became friends when attending Western Theological Seminary. Forty years later, Elliot and Elaine were members of Hope Reformed Church in Lincoln Nebraska where my father was the pastor. That is my only memory of Elliot with other than snowy white hair. He once told me of a returning student who complimented him, “You haven’t changed in twenty years.” Elliot retorted, “You mean I looked this old twenty years ago!?”

 

Then I met Elliot almost thirty years later as a candidate for a math faculty position at Hope College. Elliot confided to me that he recommended that they hire, “That fellow who is so engaging with the students.” Six years later, after I had gotten a reputation as the most difficult prof in the department, he had to defend that decision as interim Dean of Natural Sciences by arguing my case for tenure. 

 

So I owe Elliot much - especially since in those early years I wrankled him from time to time by clowning around - sometimes at his expense. However, he was often a clown himself. I still remember him and Elaine inviting the math students and faculty to their home for a “Brass Rubbing Party.” When everyone arrived, Elliot innocently asked if we would like to “rub my brasses.” He was referring to three-dimensional brass figurines which produced neat impressions when overlaid with paper and rubbed with chalk. 

 

He also had everyone nervous that he was going to reveal M.C. Escher boxer shorts during a math talk when he showed all of his clothing items with Escher tiling designs. Explaining he had one more item to show, Elliot began removing his belt. We all braced ourselves – until he showed us the belt itself – tiled with interwoven fish and birds. 

 

Those antics sprang effortlessly from a lively mind that produced a best-selling and widely acclaimed Probability and Statistics textbook. How many Saturday mornings did I arrive at my Hope office to find him with his coffee hard at work on the newest edition. He made some interesting discoveries en route – such as the infinite sum of volumes of even dimensional unit spheres  converges to e to the power of pi. Pretty cool. 

But perhaps most remarkable is that Elliot did all of that while being just as engaged as a husband and father and grandfather and church member and sports enthusiast and community member and, indeed, citizen of the world. Traveling with him to various math conferences, he seemed to know everyone. 

 

Part of the reason for his fruitful life is that his life partner was another E.T. with similar energy. 

At a Christmas math party, Elliot and Elaine had baked scores of sugar cut-out cookies for everyone to frost and eat and to take home. As a 30-year old hungry bachelor, I took full advantage of the offer – building up a sizeable pile before Elaine gently suggested I stop. Apologizing profusely, I continued my mock apology each time I saw her.  That began their still-ongoing tradition of bringing me plates of holiday frosted cookies several times a year. What fun! 

 

Elliot was a person of faith in the truest sense of the word. I remember a catechism class that described the proper place of faith in a person’s life. Instead of faith being one “pie wedge” among many others such as family, career, and hobbies, one’s faith should be the center of the circle intersecting and influencing all of those others. 

 

Consequently, only once did I hear Elliot speak openly of his faith. I had asked the whereabouts of a neighbor I hadn’t seen in a while, and Elliot replied, “He’s gone to be with our Lord.” Simple and sincere. Indeed, Elliot’s faith undergirded and colored all that he did and was. And now he has gone to be with his Lord. 

The Gift of Failure

 HS #72 2021.7.8

 

The Gift of Failure

 

I took (and passed!) a training course this summer for teaching online classes. Truth be told, this was my third attempt – I failed the first couple of times. The two necessary conditions for a student to succeed are i) a confidence that s/he can succeed, and ii) an appreciation that the material is worth learning.  In my previous attempts, the second was lacking, but I’m looking forward to teaching my newly created online course this coming year, so this time the motivation was there. 

 

As the unfamiliar saying goes, “Anything worth doing is worth failing at.” Think about it – it’s true. If you aren’t failing from time to time, likely you are not taking enough risks. We get stressed too much by failing, but it’s not a big deal. How many times does a child fall when learning to walk? Falling is part of the process of learning to walk. Failing is part of the process of eventual success. Some of my fellow graduating college friends, assiduously applying for jobs, wallpapered their dorm rooms with rejection letters. Only one acceptance is needed.  

 

I remember a TED talk which asked, “If you could design your own life, what kind of life would you choose?” Most choose an inclined straight line – the incline representing continual increase of the good stuff in life. Then they were asked, “Would you play a video game where the task was to roll a ball up an inclined path?” Of course not – How boring! An exciting video game has ups and downs – some of them drastic – and pit falls and traps to add richness and intrigue. Popular video games are those in which it is hard to succeed. Given that we would not choose to play a boring game of easy success, why would we choose to live such a life? 

 

Long ago I heard a retirement talk in which the retiree claimed the Psalmist’s quote, (Psalm 16:6), “The lines have fallen to me in pleasant places . . .“ There is certainly something to be said for a pleasant life with little heartache or turbulence. But, increasingly, I am aware that perhaps the richest lives, like video games, are the ones filled with failures as well as successes. 

 

In fact, richness and failure are two sides of the same coin. When I hear students complain that a teacher is expecting too much or otherwise making it difficult to succeed, I do not get overly concerned. But if a student can’t tell me the instructor’s name, I know that the student has not had a rich educational experience. 

 

Rich educational relationships, as with any other deep relationships, will sometimes lead to angst, anger and other negative emotions. A good teacher promotes  relationship between teacher and students, between students and students, and between students and the course material. At its best, teaching creates a rich stew of relationships – and all of these relationships have the potential to cause discomfort. 

 

But failure not only brings richness, it is only because I have failed to have life go as intended that some good things have happened. I consider myself an amateur racquetball player because, even after playing for 40 years, my best shots are often accidental. That happens when I hit the ball wrong, sending it in an unintended direction, surprising both me and my opponent, thus giving me the point. Similarly, I find that some of the best things that have happened to me in life have also been unintended – nothing I would have chosen, but in hindsight making for a better life. Thus, I also consider myself to be an amateur at living.  

 

Yes, for good or ill, failure is an integral part of life, so we may as well embrace it. Using another sports metaphor, sometimes in pickle ball a hard-to-determine shot is replayed. If the replayed shot is “in”, someone often claims the original shot must have been in.  But I correct them, “No – it must have been “out” – after all, we live in a fallen world.” 

 

We often assume that the world is good and fair, but not the case. Whether we live in a fallen world or just a natural world following the laws of probability, bad things happen more often than good things – failure more often than success.  Come look at my garden if you need proof; I didn’t plant the weeds, but it’s hard to find the peas. Failure is easy. I’ll try again next year. 

Pros and Cons of Self-Reliance

 HS #71 2021.6.10

 

Pros and Cons of Self-Reliance

 

Nine score years ago Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote his American-spirited essay “Self-Reliance.” His thoughts echoed those of his soulmate, Henry David Thoreau who went off to Waldon Pond to live it out. 

 

Self-reliance was brought to mind recently when riding in an elevator. Pushing the “2^nd floor” button brought back a memory of early childhood. As a young child riding the elevator in the Golds Department Store in Lincoln Nebraska, a lady sitting in the corner shut the steal gate door and pushed the button to the requested floor.

 

Remember others who helped us out?  Going to the filling station meant a young man pumping the gas and washing the windows. Dad was appreciative of those who removed all the bugs without leaving a streak. Dairymen brought our weekly milk and eggs. 

 

Banking became largely self-sufficient with the addition of ATM machines. Grocery stores followed suit with self-check-out lanes. When is the last time that you called a travel agent to buy your plane ticket for a trip?  I stopped going to the barber years ago – just as easy to shave my own head. Recent TV ads encourage even men with hair to do their own grooming. 

 

Higher education has long lauded the goal of developing “lifelong learners,” but it is only the last generation or so that has fully embraced that notion. I recently asked a college coed her plans for the summer. She had just bought an old school bus and was planning to refit it into a camper. How? YouTube. Everything you want to know is on YouTube. Increasingly we rely on ourselves – with the help of YouTube or Seri - for the answers.

 

But Thoreau and Emerson were envisioning something deeper than self-reliance in the mundane affairs of life.  The reason for self-reliance is to keep oneself uncorrupted from the depravities of society. Although Thoreau lived it, Emerson was pithier in stating their shared realization that “Society everywhere is in conspiracy against the manhood of every one of its members” and “Whoso would be a man must be a nonconformist.” Once when I was feeling pressed to conform, I made a shirt with those two quotes. Wearing it was my silent rebellion against the system. 

 

That was tame compared to one of my heroes, the mathematician-philosopher Bertrand Russell who was imprisoned at age 89 for his anti-nuke protests. Although an atheist, Russell lived his life according to a Bible verse he found highlighted in his grandmother’s Bible, Exodus 23:2: “Thou shalt not follow a multitude to do evil.” 

 

Or consider Russell’s kindred spirit who hailed from Hope College.  A. J. Muste, who also spent time in jail at age 74 for climbing over a 5 ft fence into a missile construction site, was once asked by a reporter, “Do you really think that you are going to change the policies of this country be standing out here alone at night in front of the White House with a candle?”  Muste replied, “Oh, I don’t do this to change the country. I do this so the country won’t change me.” 

 

All of these were self-reliant. They had their own moral compass and lived accordingly. However, did any of these visionaries of independent thought see the downside? 

 

Downside? 

 

Reliance on others instills a sense of humility, an appreciation of community and a deference to those with knowledge and authority. In contrast, self-sufficiency facilitates a disdain towards authority which started with The Enlightenment. 

 

Just one example. For the first time since polls were taken, less than half of Americans attend/belong to a church. Sunday morning sermons, at the very least, provide a stabilizing influence in society by being mortar which holds individual bricks together, building a common structure. Even if the sermon is dissected on the way home, at least all are pondering the same ideas.

 

Is there an Aristotelean Golden Mean which melds rugged individualism with a respect for the views of others? Perhaps the proper balance between self-reliance and blind submission was best articulated by one whose life overlapped with all of those above: Rudyard Kipling. In his inspiring poem “If” (which every teenager should read), he sages invaluable wisdom:

 

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, but make allowance for their doubting too. 

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you, if all men count with you, but none too much – 

Yours is the earth and everything that’s in it, And – which is more – you’ll be a Man, my son. 

 

Living in a Finite World

 HS #70 2021.5.13

 

Living in a Finite World

 

I remember it vividly. I was a first grader walking to Randolph Elementary school in Lincoln Nebraska with two 5^thgrade neighbors when we passed a 7-Up bottle by the curb. They challenged me to smash it. “Heck – it’s outside, what’s the big deal?”  So I heaved it against the curb shattering it to bits. Got a feeling of satisfaction for a job well done, and my companions laughed in hearty approval. Continuing on, we passed four more opportunities for fun and, encouraged by my mentors, I took advantage of each of them.  How neat! – I had discovered a new pastime with a steep learning curve, and was impressing and entertaining my 5^th grade idols who for some reason were chicken. A win-win!

 

The next day I discovered a Coke bottle in the front-yard curb and put another star on my helmet. When mom, who was watching out the window, came running outside, I proudly showed my accomplishment.  But watching her sweep up the mess, my perspective changed. A new revelation: Even the outside needs to be kept clean. Who would have guessed? I didn’t just “go away” on its own? Twas a new insight for a six-year-old.

 

What was the insight? I thought there were “inside rules” and “outside rules.” Inside, where we lived, had limited space, so was kept clean and tidy. In contrast, outside was expansive – essentially infinite. Things took care of themselves. Unlimited space and unlimited resources. 

 

Growing up, my perspective continued to evolve. My 7^th grade science teacher took advantage of the first Earth Day on April 22, 1970 to raise our awareness. But I also discovered that many adults hadn’t yet learned the lesson.  

 

Evidence abounds. 

 

In 1800 there were 30 million bison roaming the western plains. Hunted indiscriminately - even shot from passing trains, a century later the number was 300. Gladly we learned our lesson just in time. With conservation efforts, today there are half a million. 

 

The carrier pigeon wasn’t so fortunate. In that same time period, due to hunting and loss of habitat, carrier pigeons went from 3 billion to zero. 

 

In the 1967 movie “The Graduate,” Ben (Dustin Hoffman) gets advice, “One word – ‘Plastics’ – there’s a great future in plastics. Think about it.” Unfortunately, few of us did. Consequently, enough plastic to fill 110 train cars flows into the Great Lakes each year, and a region of the Pacific Ocean about twice the size of Texas called the Great Pacific Garbage Patch has 2,000,000,000,000 pieces of plastic. Plastic doesn’t goes away – it breaks into smaller pieces and if not ingested by turtles and fish falls to the bottom of the ocean. Gladly, in 2013 The Ocean Cleanup initiative was begun. Mom would be pleased. 

 

We are also polluting space. Just as neutrons smashing into atomic nuclei release more neutrons leading to a nuclear explosion, so also pieces of space junk smashing into satellites is creating an exponential explosion of debris which threatens satellites and humans. The recent SpaceX flight to the International Space Station passed a piece going 17,000 mi/hr. Totally foreseeable problem, but ignored.

 

In the five minutes it takes you to read this, 7600 acres of tropical rainforest – the most biodiverse area on earth and potential source of medicine - have been destroyed.

 

The earth is finite. The sooner we realize it and live accordingly, the sooner we will have a good home. How many people can the earth support? According to a BBC article, if everyone on earth lived like Americans, we would need four earths to accommodate us.

 

What about West Michigan? Louisiana, even with the mighty Mississippi rolling through, is losing 350 million gallons of water daily from its underground aquifer. It is replaced by salty sea water. We in the Great Lake State brag about our “Lake Michigan – Unsalted,” but due to the population growth in Ottawa County (20K to 45K in 30 years) and our affection for manicured green lawns, the underground water level has dropped 40 ft in the last forty years. Wells are drying up and crops are being threatened with irrigated saltwater.  Are homeowners willing to sacrifice lush lawns for the greater good of a healthy agricultural economy? 

 

Space is also limited. Those who live in Holland have a similar question to answer regarding possible rezoning. What are we willing to sacrifice to live in a city which actively accommodates the needs of others? Questions for each to answer. We all live together in a finite world. 

 

 

 

Death

 HS #69 2021.4.8

 

Death

 

Due to COVID-19 we’ve been surrounded by it this year. Yet even in its midst, there is something horrific about an automobile collision taking the life of an exceptionally productive, engaged and giving 48-year-old woman of our community. 

 

Modern automobiles are constructed to collapse – to absorb the energy of impact in order to save the life of the occupant. Airbags provide additional protection. 

 

So to kill a lone driver on a bright Sunday afternoon at a well-known intersection in the middle of Holland requires a precise confluence of timing.  It requires someone passing through the red light at considerable speed – a rare event. But it also requires every single detail that day in the life of the victim to have worked together to put her in the intersection at that precise time. An impact a quarter of a second sooner or later would have missed the driver.  A half of a second difference would have missed the car completely – barely something to call home about. 

 

A half of a second. That’s a stumble on the driveway while walking to the car. It’s the time to brush hair out of one’s eyes because of a tousling puff of breeze. It’s pulling the door shut a second time because it didn’t quite latch the first time. 

 

Yes, keeping her from being in that intersection at that precise moment could have been done a million different ways. But arranging things so that she WAS there at that precise time would have required exquisite planning as if from an omniscient physicist. 

 

Or perhaps no planning at all. Rare events happen continually – many of them are deadly. Our world is entirely different from what it was 16 months ago because of a chance encounter between a wild animal and a human on the other side of the globe. 

 

Is it exquisite planning or no planning? Neither answer is satisfactory. Reality is awful. How do we make sense of it? 

 

One way is not to try. Accept the world as it appears – a mixture of intention and randomness much like the feather floating in the wind that begins and ends the movie “Forrest Gump.” Things happen - run with them. Nothing to question, just run with them. 

 

The other option is to overlay this haphazard world with a blanket of meaning. “What is your only comfort in life and in death? That I am not my own, but belong – body and soul, in life and in death – to my faithful Savior . . . “ Keeping such a blanket mended and in good repair takes constant attention – the attention of annual celebrations of victory over death and of life beyond death. The attention of Easter Sunday. 

 

Perhaps the inclination and ability to seek for meaning is unique to humans. In Robert Bolt’s play,  “A Man for All Seasons”  Thomas More declares, “God made angels to show Him splender, plants for simplicity, animals for innocence, but man to serve Him in the tangle of his mind.” Humans are blessed and cursed with the desire to seek out meaning. We wonder. We wrestle. We ask “why?”

Mathematicians often seek truth by looking at limiting cases – by taking things to the extreme. If there is an omniscient omnipotent creator God, what choices would God have? One extreme would be no involvement in the world at all -  a Deity who watches but with no control or influence.  The other extreme is a helicopter deity who hovers and removes the consequence of every misstep. This would reduce human existence to one of no responsibility and consequently no meaning. 

Between those two extremes there is only one logical alternative – to allow some consequences of human action. Perfection is precarious – a boulder on a precipice. It’s easy to do harm. But to contribute to a better world requires assiduous effort and intention such as that given by my former colleague. Thus we mourn our loss.  This is the world we live in. This is the rich existence we want. This is the world we have to accept even when the results are heart-breaking. 

Significantly, C.S. Lewis, who tackles many such questions demurs on this one.  In the preface to “The Problem of Pain” he writes, “Nor have I anything to offer my readers  except my conviction that when pain is to be borne, a little courage helps more than much knowledge, a little human sympathy more than much courage, and the least tincture of the love of God more than all.” Indeed. 

 

 

Are Humans Good?

 HS #68 2021.3.11

 

 Are humans good?

 

 

Are humans good? Seems like a good-hearted assumption, but this idea, advanced in two books I’m presently reading, is contrary to my Christian upbringing. Perhaps you too were taught that humans were made good but now fallen, at war with self (Romans 7), even good works are dirty rags, and in need of a new nature.  

 

There is certainly a case to be made for a fallen nature. Consider the “terrible twos.” As soon as a child gets a will, trouble begins. Children must be patiently taught to be polite, to express appreciation, to share their toys, to bend to authority of parents.  Most of us were successfully socialized, but what about our inner self? “Schadenfreude” is the German word for that (scientifically confirmed) inner pleasure we sometimes feel upon hearing of the misfortune of others.  What better evidence for an evil nature! 

 

When C.S. Lewis wrote “Screwtape Letters” theologians praised him for the research he ostensibly put into understanding the human condition. Lewis laughed it off. He explained that all he had to do was to look inside himself.  Interestingly, Raymond Smullyan (“The Tao is Silent”) did the same – looked inside himself - but he came to the opposite conclusion. Then generalizing to others, as did Lewis, he concluded that others must also be basically good. 

 

Smullyan does not claim to be faultless. He just observes that his deep wish is to do good and to be good. The fact that he doesn’t always live up to his aspirations only shows that other things get in the way. But he takes his desire for goodness to be indicative of “his real self.” Indeed, if you, like me, sometimes experience Schadenfreude, then you may also, like me, experience shame at feeling it. So at our core, perhaps we are good. 

 

The Apostle Paul made a similar, but different, argument in chapter 7 of Romans. He claimed that “his members” were at war not with his basic good human nature, but with his new nature in Christ. That seems presumptuous. Did Paul think that those without “the new nature” do not have similar conflicts? Did Paul not have the same conflicts before his conversion?  Of course he did. 

 

But perhaps the conflict is not between a new/good nature and an evil nature, but instead is simply a conflict between two Darwinian drives. If we are wired both for self-preservation and preservation of our group/species, then the conflict that arises between these drives may be what we interpret as good versus evil. 

 

Let me explain:  Notice that the drive to preserve oneself leads to behaviors we condemn as bad/sinful: selfishness, cheating, lying, stealing, coveting, hoarding, promiscuity, materialism.   These are actions and tendencies that serve the individual at the expense of the community. 

 

On the other hand, our drive to preserve our species leads to behaviors we praise as desirable/good: charity, recycling, volunteering, kindness, self-sacrificial giving, honesty (so others can trust you), caring for the earth and wild animals (for the benefit of future generations). 

 

If our behavior results from competing genetic drives, how did we come to condemn one set of behaviors as “bad” while praising the other as “good”?  Perhaps we are just selfishly encouraging others to behave in a way that benefits us, so we label their self-centered behavior as bad because it doesn’t benefit us. How ironic! We selfishly encourage others to be unselfish. 

 

Do humans in fact sacrifice their own happiness for that of others, or do we just gain happiness from helping others? Also, is this inner struggle between drives uniquely a human phenomenon? My father once observed that no guilt-stricken dog ever returned a stolen steak back to a butcher.

 

Patricia Churchland’s, “Conscience: The Origins of Moral Intuition” provides helpful insight to these questions. She observes that only some animals – mammals in particular – have this double devotion to themselves AND to their group.  Why? The warm-bloodedness of mammals provides advantages such as moving at night and greater territory to live. But there are significant disadvantage too. In particular, it takes ten times as much energy (i.e., food) to live. Acquiring that food requires greater intelligence – hence a larger brain. And a larger brain means that infants must be born more premature – thus requiring the care of a mother and often a group. It takes a village. 

 

Hence many mammals, primates in particular, are wired to preserve both the individual and the group giving rise to the conflicting urges we label as evil and good. How interesting!

Finding Common Truth

 HS #67  2021.2.11

 

Finding Common Truth

 

Did last fall’s election lead to the wrong candidate being inaugurated? Is it safe to take the COVID vaccine? Is there even a pandemic? Is global warming occurring and produced largely from human influence? Is the earth only 6 thousand years old rather than 4.5 billion? 

 

These questions share several things in common: i) there are committed people on both sides of each issue, ii) answers are given with a toggle switch rather than a dial; that is, no middle ground, iii) there is an established position and a sizeable minority opposition. 

 

How do we find truth in such situations?

 

First, there must be agreement that truth exists. With sympathies to Kellyanne Conway, there are no “alternative facts.” Patrick Moynihan, statesman and senator from New York, observed, “You are entitled to your own opinion. But you are not entitled to your own facts.” 

 

President John Adams went a bit deeper: “Facts are stubborn things; and whatever may be our wishes, our inclinations, or the dictates of our passion, they cannot alter the state of facts and evidence.” 

 

Indeed, that gets to the heart of it. Apparently in Adam’s time as well as ours, people believed alternative facts. Easy to understand. Ever see a coach protesting a ref’s call that was in his favor? We see what we want to see. We believe what we want to believe. 

 

Given that we all have that tendency, how do we determine whether or not we are the one in error? Is it enough that we are in the majority? Is it enough that we are in the counterculture? As President Lincoln said to his cabinet when he found himself outnumbered, “Seven ‘no’ and one ‘aye’, the ayes have it.”  Numbers alone (or lack of them) do not determine the truth. 

 

Can’t we just look at the evidence? That might have been enough for our simple-lived ancestors when the question was, say, whether putting a fish with the planted seed helped the corn grow. Each planter could experiment and determine the truth. 

 

But modern questions rely on the research and experience and expertise of others. Who among us have personally counted ballots or measured the ice at the poles or given vaccines to research volunteers? The tough nut to crack – the real problem to solve – is determining “Who do we trust?” 

 

My own answers:

 

1)    I look at the motivations and passions of the source. Given that we all tend to believe what we want to believe, what sources don’t have a dog in the fight? Of course everyone does to some extent, but a main source for U.S. political news is BBC – at least it’s across the pond. 

2)    I look at the personal history of the source. Have they proved themselves reliable in past accounts? I differentiate between those who don’t give “the whole truth” from those who intentionally give false accounts. There is no “whole truth” to give. Every source will leave out facts that are considered important to others. Likely, the facts left out (intentionally or not) coincide with the source’s own interests. So I check multiple sources. 

3)    I steer clear of sources that combine claims of what “is” with claims of what “should be.” Given that we see what we want to see, this makes the source suspect. 

4)    I give deference to the established position. Statisticians call it the null hypothesis. It is assumed true unless there is a preponderance of evidence against it, as with our courts where innocence is presumed unless/until proven guilty. Why give this advantage? Because that is how I live generally. Every time I open a cereal box, walk into a building, drive on roads amidst traffic, get advice from a professional, or look at a map or a book, I am trusting the establishment. And I’m still alive. Obviously and gladly, the great majority of the time, established truth is correct. So I don’t doubt it without clear reason. 

 

Finally, some introspection. I suspect that believing alternative facts is a problem not with intellect, but with character.  It suggests the lack of fiber to accept and tackle the truth head on. Certainly, for example, it is tempting to ignore global warming (as we ignore our mounting national debt), and leave it for future generations.

 

Instead, we should heed Thomas Paine, “If there must be trouble, let it be in my day, that my child may have peace; and this single reflection, well applied, is sufficient to awaken every man to duty.”

 

 

Letter from Prison

 HS #66 2021.1.14

 

Letter from Prison

 

This past year some have felt like prisoners in their own homes, and have described both positive and negative aspects of it. The negatives are obvious. One positive is the opportunity for contemplative silence needed for deep thinking. Perhaps that is why influential literature has come from the incarcerated: Martin Luther King Jr., Paul the Apostle, Adolf Hitler, John Bunyan, and Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s “Letters and Papers from Prison.”   

 

I became interested in the plight of the prisoner several years ago upon reading an article in GQ magazine about solitary confinement. On any given day, the U.S. has 90,000 people in solitary confinement. That’s double the population of Holland. 

 

My interest was rekindled recently by an article in Popular Mechanics.  It described how Christopher Havens, a 10^thgrade high school dropout serving a 25-year sentence for a drug-related murder discovered the joy of mathematics, established a research relationship with mathematicians, and has recently published an article. Describing his research, he writes, “Continued fractions are beautiful and pure and they even have a pulse – they beat to the rhythm of a leaping arithmetic pattern.” That is poetry – it gives me goosebumps. 

 

Wanting to help other inmates experience the same, he founded the Prison Math Project. I wrote him to volunteer, and subsequently we have been corresponding by phone and email.  

 

He sent me his story, and I found it so moving that I want to share it with you. The following is Christopher Haven’s letter from prison: 

 

Our mission is not only to help inmates make positive life choices through the study and exploration of mathematics, but also to show them that a lifestyle exists where they can live in the pursuit of beauty and embrace their passion for mathematics. 

 

I once lived a completely different lifestyle to what I know today.  I began my sentence as another of the cliché "convicts" that media portrays the prisoner to be. After six months of this, I got into serious trouble and I ended up in what we call "the hole". The hole is an isolation unit, full of nothing nice. A prison within a prison. 

 

It didn't take long before I began passing my time solving puzzles. After months of this, the challenge was gone. All I had left was the noise of the screams and the yelling. I remember watching the scenery though a narrow window in my steel door. I picked out patterns among the scenery. I could predict when certain guards and nurses would walk through and which doors they opened first. I could predict the behavior of the other residents. One of these patterns was an older gentleman visiting a specific sequence of doors. He would pass envelopes through the doors, and repeat the process at a later date. This gentleman was distributing packets of mathematics. 

My door number was soon added. The math in the packets was basic algebra, but it was my first real exposure to mathematics. Man, I soaked it up like you wouldn't believe. For me, the computations were like little puzzles. Mathematics was like a seed in the fiber of my being. The isolated environment was precisely the condition I needed to finally slow down enough to realize that mathematics was what my life was missing. 

 

I spent hours and hours every day. I was hooked. The gentleman soon ran out of new material to give me, so I began buying books. That's when my questions really began! It was at just this time when I thought to myself, "I've got 25 years. I could become a mathematician."  

After my enjoyment began turning into a passion, something happened. I noticed that my thoughts were changing. My values were changing and my actions were being thought out instead of acted on impulse. I was changing, and I noticed it like the contrast between night and day. I'm not referring to a few changes. I'm talking about changes that made me question who I really was anymore. I won't go too deep into this story, but I want you to see that I was experiencing the transformative powers of mathematics.

Mathematics has led me to so many things that give my life meaning. It led me to taking responsibility of my life. This led me to empathy, which led to a complete restructuring of my practice of everyday life. I then learned to love things including myself. Self-rehabilitation was occurring, all through the lens of mathematics. This is how I define justice.