Calvin and Hope

 HS #89 2022.12.8

 

Calvin and Hope

 

Calvin VanderWerf, President of Hope College 1963-1970, had a couple of noteworthy ideas. One was his humorous definition of an atheist as someone who doesn’t care who wins a Hope-Calvin basketball game. A second was separating Hope College from the control of its parent denomination, the Reformed Church of America. 

 

Both of those ideas are front and center these days. Calvin University recently announced that football is in their future. Given the rivalry of other Hope-Calvin sports teams, one can anticipate full stadiums and cheering crowds on both sides. West Michigan will be the richer for it. 

 

Indeed, the rich rivalry between Calvin and Hope goes beyond sports. Traveling around the country giving talks at various colleges and universities, I have grown to appreciate the uniquely balanced competition between these West Michigan institutions – iron sharpening iron. Years ago, when touring the Art Institute of Chicago, I spied a group of Calvin-clad students. Tapping one on the shoulder, I asked, “Calvin College – that’s that nice school in Holland Michigan?” “No – that’s Hope.” “Oh – you’re the one that won MIAA basketball this year?” “No – that was Hope.” “You’re the one with all the undergraduate science research?” “No – that’s Hope.” I then admitted I was a Hope professor. 

 

But the joke could easily have gone the other direction. Especially in the humanities, Calvin has produced noteworthy scholars including Alvin Plantinga and Nicholas Wolterstorff, not to mention the recent thoughtful challenge, “Jesus and John Wayne” by Kristin Kobes Du Mez. Both institutions are making their respective impacts. 

 

Their “respective impacts” – that brings us to VanderWerf’s second idea. As is happening in many Christian denominations, the RCA (Reformed Church in America) and the CRC (Christian Reformed Church in North America) are wrestling with the LGBTQ+ issue. However, since Calvin University is under the ownership and direction of the CRC, the CRC’s decisions in this matter have a greater impact on their institution. 

 

As is seen on the CRC website, the denomination holds official positions on a number of matters. Some of these, such as belief in the infallibility of inspired scripture and that certain historic creeds faithfully represent scriptural doctrines, form the bedrock of the faith.  These are raised to confessional status, while most, including observance of the 4^thCommandment (Lord’s Day), baptism, divorce, and creation and science are not. 

 

This summer the 2022 Synod (CRC governing body) affirmed that the sin of “unchastity” in the Heidelberg Catechism includes homosexual sex (even within a monogamous marriage) and raised this issue to confessional status. Interestingly, while this biblical position can perhaps be defended (as can the opposing position), it is not clear from scripture why it was raised to confessional status. Which issues would achieve confessional status if scripture were one’s sole guide (Sola scriptura)? Perhaps the Ten Commandments - including swearing and Lord’s Day observance? Perhaps justice and mercy? 

 

But while I don’t understand the action taken by the CRC, I still respect it. Those making the decision undoubtedly did so from an inner conviction that they were doing the right thing. Unfortunately, future high school students may increasingly have inner convictions that the decision was the wrong thing. Given the increasing challenge attracting enough students given declining high school demographics, this presents an additional hurdle. 

 

But while the CRC’s authority over Calvin University presents challenges, it also provides Calvin  with a steady anchor and clarifies its identity.  This, by contrast, reveals its rival’s challenge. 

 

Unmoored from the RCA, Hope College has been free to evolve depending on its leadership and board. While this has resulted in a dynamic chapel program, Hope would do well, especially in hiring/tenure, to clarify its identity and settle into a stable niche, distinct from Calvin’s, but also distinct from secular colleges. Presently, Hope asks candidates for an expression of faith and relationship with God. But with no foundational doctrinal statement, who then decides if it is adequate? And how? (For example, Nietzsche observed, “Only a person of deep faith can enjoy the luxury of skepticism.”) Hope might instead consider using SOLELY the mission statement developed by VanderWerf’s successor, Gordon Van Wylen: “The mission of Hope College is to offer academic programs in liberal arts …  in the context of the historic Christian faith.” Instead of attempting to evaluate the adequacy of a personal faith expression, simply ask: “How have you, do you, and will you support this mission?” Simple and straightforward. 

 

This would provide two distinct and distinguished institutions of higher education in West Michigan. 

 

 

The Pull and The Fall

 HS #88 2022.11.10

 

The Pull and The Fall

 

Ideas for these monthly columns are often inspired by a confluence of events. Such happened last month. The Fall (the Biblical depiction of the origin of human evil and pain) was on my mind while writing a column on Genesis. (See timothypennings.blogspot.com)  I penned,  “As with Icarus, humans sought to fly too high, to know more than was intended and instructed, causing a cascade of calamity.” 

 

The second event was watching the grueling last half hour of “The Pull” of Hope College. I’ve regularly attended this event since coming to Hope in 1988. Until recently, it was held on the two – usually muddy – sides of the Black River. The new location, on East 11^th Street by the DeVos Field House, loses some of the ambiance, but compensates by allowing spectators to easily watch both teams. 

 

Since the Even Year team runs by my house on East 12^th Street for three weeks of multi-hour practices, they are my default favorite. The male chorus of chants has been enriched by higher-pitched female voices as modern sensibilities affect even this century-old tradition. 

 

Over the years I have learned various stories from pullers. My favorite is that during the first week of intense training – including hundreds of sit ups and push-ups – the pullers are promised a day of recreation at the beach the coming Saturday. Arriving ready for sun and surf, they are then directed to continue training by carrying each other up the dunes. 

 

True or not, I believe the claim that for most of these students, the three weeks of Pull practice is, bar none, the most intense and single-focused physical endeavor they have ever experienced. Their raw hands, strained voices, and cramped legs are all testament to giving this team effort their all. 

 

Thus, I choked up at the conclusion when, standing on the Even Side, I heard the junior year coach announce to the exhausted team, “You have done all we have asked and expected. You have carried on the great tradition and have made us coaches, the Even Year alumni, and Hope College proud. You have done your very best, and you - - are victorious!” It was a speech worthy of Vince Lombardi and similar to Marshall’s commendation of Eisenhower. 

 

After enjoying their celebration for a few minutes, I shifted to the Odd Year side. I expected to find low spirits, but was unprepared for the tears and genuine heartache. I’ll not forget the look of shock, despondency and loss as they consoled each other with long embraces. During the final minutes of the event, I overheard a student spectator remark, “What’s it like to spend three hours pulling on a rope – and then lose?” Indeed!

 

These students didn’t know it, but they just experienced the Fall. Both sides. I didn’t understand the richness of the Fall until reading C.S. Lewis’s “The Space Trilogy.” He explores, as only Lewis can through fiction, that, yes, the Fall brought misery and heartache, but, living through and conquering those challenges adds richness and purpose to our lives. As per ABC’s Wide World of Sports, there is no thrill of victory unless there is also agony of defeat. 

 

And these students are getting just a taste of what’s to come – the thrill of marriage, the agony of conflict and divorce, the thrill of child birth, the agony of health issues, the thrill of new jobs, the agony of layoffs. Is the Fall then a curse or a disguised blessing? It’s both. 

 

Beautiful patterns on diamond willow walking sticks are the result of infection in the wood. A broken bone heals stronger. Mutations, while usually harmful to the individual, are beneficial to the species since the species can then survive changing environments. (For more examples, read “Antifragile”). U2’s Bono in his new memoir, “Surrender” explains it was the loss of his mother that led to his life of creative brilliance.  Someone has noted that in the centuries during which turbulent war-torn Italy gave the world unsurpassed music and art, placid, staid Switzerland produced  - - the cuckoo clock. 

 

There’s a story about an Irishman who, exiting a pub and seeing two men slugging it out, taps one on the shoulder and asks, “Is this a private fight or can anyone join?” Some enjoy the fight. 

 

Indeed, the richness of striving, of struggling, of laying oneself bare with no guarantee of victory – this is the legacy of the Fall. A tough life – I’d have no other. 

Straight Talk about Genesis

 HS #87 2022.10.13

 

Straight Talk about Genesis

 

How fascinating that an ancient book so influences present-day thoughts and issues. I’m speaking of Genesis, the first book of the Bible. 

 

My first teacher of Genesis was my Western Theological Seminary-educated father. He explained that the first eleven chapters are “pre-history” – a different type of literature than that which follows with the story of Abraham and his descendants.  These chapters contain the stories of Creation, the Fall, the Tower of Babel, the Flood, and 969-year-old Methuselah. (Biblical Riddle: How is it that the man who lived to be the oldest died before his father?) 

 

These chapters address deep-searching questions one might ponder at night around a campfire: Where did the world come from? Why do people get married? Why do we wear clothes? Why do people hurt each other? Why do people die? Why do other peoples speak different languages? Why do I work so hard pulling weeds? 

 

How are these chapters, in particular the story of creation, to be read and understood?  Augustine (not a lightweight, theologically speaking) did not have the benefit of modern astronomical knowledge, but by studying the scripture itself realized that it was not intended to be understood literally or chronologically. He noted, for example, the untenable chronology of light on the first day, but no sun or stars until the fourth day. 

 

In fact, Augustine scolded the believers of his day for reading Genesis literally. He pointed out that everyone knows about the natural world via their own experience and reason. So when Christians made claims about the earth that were clearly wrong, how could they then expect to be taken seriously when bearing witness on spiritual matters? 

 

With modern instruments and telescopes, our knowledge of the earth and heavens has increased dramatically since Augustine’s day. Evidence from myriad sources – radioactive dating, plate tectonics (the slow movement of continents giving rise to mountain ranges), background radiation from the big bang, positions and movements of stars and galaxies – all points to billions of years of existence, not six thousand years as claimed by those who take Genesis literally.  The new Webb telescope is peering back into history a staggering 13.5 billion years to the very beginning of the universe. Boggles the mind!

 

The ratio between a 4.5 billion year old earth and a 6000 year old earth is the same as walking through a forest of 300-year-old trees at noon and thinking they had been planted at 8:30 a.m. Thus those who believe in a young earth are missing the full grandeur of creation. 

 

Indeed, they are robbing themselves of living in truth that sets us free from living in ignorance. Recently someone explained the apparent age of the earth to me by suggesting that God made the universe with the appearance of age. It looks old – like a pair of stone washed jeans – even though it is young. This worn-out explanation reduces God to a deceiving trickster. What a stark contrast:  Scientists giddy with excitement as unexpected discoveries reveal new truth versus those who oversimplify the truths of scripture and reject the truths of nature because of their sincere but misguided aspiration to honor God. 

 

Since, as Augustine noted, the purpose of the first chapter is not to give the chronological details of creation, what then is its essential message? The author makes it clear through the six-fold repetition, “And God saw that it was good” punctuated the seventh time, “And God saw all that he had made, and it was VERY good.” 

 

This deific pat on the back is striking because it contrasts with a loving God’s compassionate admission in the second chapter, “It is NOT GOOD for the human to be alone.” 

 

The wisdom literature confirms this conviction.  Ecclesiastes 4: Two are better than one. Pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up. One may be overpowered.  How can one keep warm alone?

 

God remedied the aloneness with a companion for Adam – a helper for life. 

 

Then came the Fall. As with Icarus, humans sought to fly too high, to know more than was intended and instructed, causing a cascade of calamity. Post-Fall, what now is God’s plan for human companionship?

 

 We muddle through this fallen world redeeming what we can and waiting for the full redemption.  While the Biblical case concerning who can marry continues to be studied and debated, God’s compassionate proclamation, “It is not good to be alone” from this ancient book is a beacon of hope. 

Good Living in the Michigan UP

  

HS #86 2022.9.8

 

Good Living in the Michigan UP

 

I vacation each year in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. As soon as you cross the Mackinac Bridge, life changes. Instead of SUVs, you see rusty pickups and kayaks atop cars. Canoeing and kayaking are ubiquitous in the north country.  Once when on a remote canoe trip in the Boundary Waters, I spied in the distance a broad-shouldered, flannel-shirted figure muscularly thrusting a canoe towards our landing. Hitting the shore and nodding acknowledgement, the paddler deftly heaved the canoe up on her shoulders and quietly disappeared along the portage path. You read it correctly, “her.” Impressive. 

 

Interesting people. My license plate is “EXP LOG.” I chose it half dozen years ago expecting STEM folk to honk when they passed. EXP stands for “exponential” and LOG for its mathematical relative “logarithmic”.   Alas, I have driven these six years unacknowledged. Until this past vacation. A woman approached me, “May I ask you a personal question – what does your license plate mean?” I explained it. She responded, “Oh, I thought it meant “Expert logger.” Of course, I’m in the UP. 

 

No lack of cultural experiences. Each Wednesday I join a dozen other string musicians playing Celtic music at the Munising Falling Rock Café/Used Book Store where locals congregate to play games. I recently met the daughter of the only American sailor on Shackleton’s Antarctic expedition. 

 

Rules are relaxed. Years ago, I brought a dozen Hope College Outdoor Adventure Club students for Labor Day weekend camping on the Au Train beach. Upon arrival, one asked, “May we stay here? The sign says ‘No camping or overnight parking.’” I reassured her that I had camped and overnight-parked for years, never having even noticed the sign. They remained concerned until a late arriver explained that she had stopped in Munising at Family Fare to ask directions to find our group. The Alger County sheriff happened to be behind her in line. He answered, “Oh, your friends are camping on the Au Train beach.” We enjoyed a weekend of illegal camping under his watchful eye.

 

I once returned home from vacation to find a $125 fine from the City of Holland because I had a few weeds (milkweeds as I recall) in my lawn over 8 inches high. The City Council had recently passed an ordinance and, like a child with a new toy, it was being zealously enforced. Only after getting pictures of the lawns of city council members, several of whom were in technical violation of the ordinance, did I convince the city to waive the fine. In contrast, in the UP I have a “Natural Indigenous Wildflower Lawn.” That is, I let the local weeds grow as they want. The result: My lawn is filled with wild raspberries, wild blueberries, and blackberries – compliments of seed-bearing birds. My breakfast of shredded wheat and granola never tasted so good. More altruistically, there is also milkweed for the monarch butterflies, now endangered with their numbers cut in half in recent years. Holland would do well to reconsider its priorities. 

 

And the air! Holland gets its air across the widest east-west spot of Lake Michigan, but it is flavored by Milwaukee. Au Train sits at the widest north-south point of Lake Superior. Its air comes across 160 miles of fresh water from Canada. I should bring back jars of it to sell. 

 

 I DO bring back the water – 30 gallons this trip. I collect it from a spring cascading over a ridge by Au Train falls. Nothing wrong with Holland water, but natural spring water, collected by many in the UP, is a treat. All without wasting plastic. 

 

But perhaps the best aspect of the UP is the opportunity to recreate in pure nature. I frequently kayak the Black, Pigeon and Kalamazoo Rivers in West Michigan, but I stay in my kayak. Kayaking the Au Train River allows for swimming and bathing in the crystal clear sandy-bottomed river. (Sand is a great exfoliant.) There are also rope swings and places to jump from bridges. 

 

I’ve taken advantage of those in past years, but this year I joined the class of people who have jumped from Blackrock Cliffs into Superior in the northern corner of Presque Isle Park in Marquette. It’s a rite of passage in becoming a true Yooper. It compensates for the other rite of passage – eating a pasty. Pasties are good if eaten occasionally – once every ten years is about right. White fish, on the other hand 

Natural Education

  

HS #85 2022.8.11

 

Natural Education

 

In the rotunda at the entrance of the Field Museum of Natural History in Chicago is a quote from the scientist/inventor George Washington Carver, “Reading about nature is fine, but if a person walks in the woods and listens carefully, he can learn more than what is in books.” Interestingly, while Thomas Jefferson learned of nature via his extensive library, his fellow Founding Father Benjamin Franklin learned from nature itself through keen observation and myriad experiments. 

 

As a child growing up on the outskirts of Des Moines Iowa, much of my early development came from exploring the ten acres of wild land behind the parsonage. My friend and I dug a fort which entertained the men of the church as they noted our progress each week. How much character development comes from digging a hole! 

 

With that in mind, I bought the plot of wooded land with a stream behind my house on East 12^th Street. It stands in contrast to the manicured designed parks all around us in Holland. Nothing wrong with them, but by their very design, children are meant to do activities that adults have intended for them. 

 

On the other hand, in my backyard plot I am continually surprised by what the neighborhood children do – building forts out of logs and branches, zip lines, dams, paths. What a great place in a residential neighborhood for children to “own.” 

 

Indeed, a running stream offers abundance of fun. How many times have I taken Hope College students and other friends to the stream that lies a half mile south of Laketown Beach. It’s just the right size for several ambitious souls to dam up, watch the water collect, and then destroy. The water movement and resulting formations of sand formed in a couple hours models geological structures built by rivers over eons. 

 

My little backyard stream also attracts and sustains abundant wildlife to watch – steelhead, crayfish, opossums, woodchucks and occasional more exotic things. I’ve seen a fox pass by my backyard window. 

 

The fact that we need such natural interaction can be seen in how we design our indoor environments. Those remodeling 19^th century homes in Holland may find layers of colorful paint on the woodwork in their homes. Indeed, after working outside among the trees all day, bright colors were a nice change of pace. But now, largely removed from nature, we not only keep natural surfaces intact, but also design the plastic surfaces of cars and furniture with the appearance of natural wood. 

 

In the U.S. we fare better than Europe. Several years ago, I took the Dutch son of the architect of the Hope College Kruizenga Art Museum with me for a trip to the Boundary Water Canoe Area (BWCA) in northern Minnesota. As we passed out of Grand Rapids going north on US 131, he noted that this was the first time he had seen a “wild tree.” As with a wild animal, a wild tree is not intended and cared for by humans, but is there of its own accord. (The BWCA was a stretch for him – he stayed in his tent safe from mosquitos.) 

 

Aristotle’s principle of moderation and the Golden mean can be applied to learning from nature. The Outdoor Discovery Center here in Holland is a great example. Children are given opportunity to play on manufactured playground items, but these are placed in a natural setting. I recently enjoyed watching my friend’s five-year-old scamper up the boulders and logs after each turn down the slide. 

 

The collection of area parks - Holland State Park and our county parks - is another prime example where humans have designed areas to make them accessible and fairly safe while still offering opportunity for natural exploration. How fun it is to kayak up the Black River enjoying ducks, king fishers, and occasional osprey all within sight of Holland homes and businesses.

 

I say “fairly safe” because there is still a balance to find. Cushioned rubber mats and rounded edges on playground equipment prevent injuries, but do not teach children the natural consequences of taking risks. Understanding the risk of harm is helpful as children grow and hopefully fully engage in living lives of learning and adventure in the wild of nature.

 

Then our children can live their lives in the spirit of Carver, “I love to think of nature as an unlimited broadcasting station, through which God speaks to us every hour, if we will only tune in.” 

 

Life Lessons from Pickleball

 HS #84 2022.7.14

 

Life Lessons from Pickleball

 

In case you haven’t noticed, pickleball has overtaken the world. Invented in the early 1970s, it sat dormant for decades with little apparent growth, but in recent years has exploded with (by my count) about three dozen courts in the Holland-Zeeland area and likely more to come. 

 

Pickleball had a natural barrier to overcome – a chicken and egg problem of sorts. No opportunity for people to play unless there were courts and equipment, and no reason to manufacture equipment and build courts unless there were people to play. It was like a boulder sitting in a depression at the top of a hill. It needed a push – what chemists call “activation energy” – to get it rolling. 

 

Apparently, a critical mass of tenacious folk in the state of Washington provided the activation energy, and now, like Starbucks and Apple and our nation’s COVID that all began there, the sport has spread across the U.S. 

 

One reason for its success is that it is cost effective. The area needed for a pickleball court is ¼ that of a tennis court, and because most pickleball is team play (2 against 2), pickleball offers 8 times the bang for the buck in real estate.  Also, since its devotees include middle aged and retired folk who serve on town councils, it has a voice at the table. 

 

Pickleball is not just for worn out tennis and racquetball players, put to pasture in their later years. As a former enthusiastic of both of those sports, I initially viewed pickleball with a bit of disdain. No more. Granted, not as much running as tennis or pounding as racquetball.  A different skill set is needed. Fast reflexes are essential and spin can be helpful – similar to table tennis. Unlike tennis, serving is not important; instead volleying and coordinated team play are key.  

 

I became a convert two years ago – a new religion of sorts. All religions have informal rules not stated in the catechismal creeds, such as when it’s appropriate to clap or shout “AMEN!” I’ve discovered and list below some unstated rules of pickleball - which also provide good advice for living: 

 

·      As with all recreation, it’s more fun to play if you should be working. We were put on earth to be productive, whether it be employment or community volunteering or raising families. But, as evidenced by human history, including the ancient Olympic games and Native American lacrosse, we all need a break. 

 

·      Any player who conscientiously learns from her mistakes will steadily improve. After each lost point ask, “What should I have done differently?”

 

·      Watch for opportunities to compliment.   Complimenting your partner causes them to play better; criticizing often leads to self-consciousness and worse play. 

 

·      What initially seems to be your partner’s mistake is, with more reflection, often realized to be your own. 

 

·      The mark of an experienced player is not only the person who makes a good shot, but also the person who hides his surprise when he successfully executes one.

 

·      Be deliberate, but not timid. Hit with conviction. Boom!

 

·      Don’t hit balls that are going out of bounds – somethings in life take care of themselves. 

 

·      Move your feet – you can’t hit a good shot from a poor position.  An Olympic table tennis player once told me the order of importance: i) feet, ii) head, iii) hands. 

 

·      Everyone – even good players – has an Achilles Heel. In pickleball, it’s the heel. Aim for it. 

 

·      Run for everything unless your partner is under 20. 

 

·      Playing half-heartedly is worse for developing skills than not playing at all. 

 

·      Line Calls: Always give your opponents the benefit of the doubt, and give them the benefit of the doubt that they are giving you the benefit of the doubt.  

 

·      Profanity: Mark Twain said “In desperate times profanity provides comfort denied even by prayer.” My favorite is “BLAST!” It has lots of spitting consonants and can be used in all occasions without undue embarrassment. 

 

·      Patience is a virtue. This actually IS written in the official literature. The description of a competent (3.5) player includes having developed the patience to wait for a good shot.

 

·      Better for both partners to swing than for neither. Take ownership and responsibility. 

 

·      When returning an errant ball over a fence, it always takes two attempts. We often misjudge. 

 

·      A good rally is fun for everyone – win-win situations occur in life. 

 

·      Trash talk:  I seldom hear it, so have to limit it myself.  Oh well, no sport is perfect. 

High School Commencement Address

  

HS #83 2022.6.9

 

High School Commencement Address

 

Faculty and staff, relatives and friends, 2022 graduates: “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” This line of poetry from Mary Oliver is powerful and profound. Say it aloud – commit it to memory. Take it with you as a guide in life. 

 

Let’s ponder it a bit. “Tell me” forces us to clarify our thoughts. It’s not enough to have just a vague answer to so important a question. 

 

“What is it you plan to do?” That is, YOU are in charge. You have the freedom AND the awful responsibility. The Statue of Liberty needs a counterpart, “The Statue of Responsibility.” As John Steinbeck explains in East of Eden, the Hebrew word “Timshel” – “Thou mayest” captures both ideals. We have the agency and must bear the consequences. 

 

“With this one” – there are no second chances. As the TV soap opera is titled, “One Life to Live.” 

 

“Wild and precious life” – “Precious” since every moment is valuable – each moment provides opportunity for us to experience and interact with the universe. What about “wild”? In Chronicles of Narnia, CS Lewis describes Aslan the Lion as wild. “He’s not a tame lion.” Wild means unpredictable and not controlled. Even with best laid plans, things won’t go as you anticipate or want. Sometimes better, sometimes worse. The floating feather which begins and ends “Forrest Gump” catches the inherent randomness of our lives. No one saw COVID coming. Read Endurance. Only the singular grit and focus of Earnest Schackleton saved his Antarctic crew from unexpected twists of nature.   

 

That was poetry – now a couple short stories remembered from my high school senior year. I didn’t understand them then, but they keep recurring to me. 

 

The first tells of a person visiting a friend’s home and noticing a goldfish bowl with nothing but a single motionless goldfish hovering in the water and a penny lying at the bottom. The owner explains that the penny keeps the goldfish alive indefinitely without feeding. Then the person discovers how: The penny leaches copper into the water which all but kills the fish. The goldfish is alive – but just barely. It continues living because it doesn’t have energy to move – it just exists. A long life of meaningless existence. 

 

The second complimentary story tells of a flea which has spent its entire adult life on a leaf of a shrub by a forest path. The flea just waits, waits, waits for a warm-blooded animal – perhaps a deer – to amble by. Then it LEAPS! If successful, it lands on the back of the deer, then buries into the fur, drinks blood, develops and lays eggs, and dies – its life-mission fulfilled.  If it misses the target, it falls to the ground withers and dies. No energy for a second chance. 

 

“A Noiseless Patient Spider” by Walt Whitman captures a similar theme. Find it and read it. We are like a spider that sends out filament, filament, filament to catch in the wind and attach ourselves to the world. Notice the recurring theme of this essay? The combination of intention and randomness. The spider has no idea which web will catch – or if any will. But it DOES know that if it is to successfully live, it must send them out – it must keep trying. Failure is guaranteed if it quietly exists like the goldfish. 

 

Poetry, short stories – what’s left? Today’s art form is video games. Question: If you could plot out your life trajectory, what would you choose? Most might choose a gradually inclining line in which the good things of life are steadily increasing. Picture that – like rolling a ball up a gentle slope until it gets to the top. Sounds good, doesn’t it? Tell me, would you play a video game like that? Of course not – how boring! If such a monotonous video game isn’t appealing, why do you want such a life? Instead, a game worth playing is one with challenging pitfalls and risk-laden opportunities to seize the moment. 

 

Tell me, what is it YOU plan to do with your one wild and precious life? As I write this, NPR radio is telling of Calvin University’s Prison Initiative.  Twenty inmates each year – most of them serving life sentences – are graduating from Calvin’s prison campus. Their leap, their filaments, their choices brought them a lifetime in prison. But they are now flinging out new filaments and making the most of their lives. Will you?

Ramadan

 HS #82 2022.5.12

 

Ramadan

 

I have a new friend in Holland – an engineering graduate from Texas whose family hails from Pakistan and who follows the Islamic faith. He recently observed the month of Ramadan. More on that later. 

 

Those who visit the cathedrals of Europe, and local ones such as the Cathedral of St. Andrews in Grand Rapids, immediately realize that such structures were built for the glory of God. Soaring arches, stained glass windows, murals and iconography all point one’s thoughts to the Almighty. Other things are obviously less important. Straight-back wooden pews are hard and often uncomfortable. 

 

In contrast, modern Christian churches are largely designed for the comfort of us. Some to the extreme – well equipped with the amenities of 4-star hotels. Leather lounge chairs, polished tiled floors, coffee shops, cushioned seats, recreation centers. Belonging to a church is not unlike being a member of a family country club. It all makes practicing the Christian faith comfortable and enjoyable. Today’s reality compares with 20-year-old humor of a Doonesbury cartoon which depicted a couple deciding which church to join. Speaking to a pastor, the husband explains that he doesn’t like that church’s emphasis on sin, but observes, “However -  you DO have racquetball courts.” 

 

To be clear, I am not (necessarily) criticizing. Indeed, as an avid pickle ball player I appreciate the generosity of local churches in making their recreational facilities available to the community. Instead, I’m just observing a clear trend in the practice of the Christian faith. 

 

As buildings and programs have become more user-friendly, the more austere practices of the Christian faith are disappearing. As a 9^th and 10^th grader in an RCA church, I joined all my peers for two years in spending an hour each Saturday morning learning the Heidelberg Catechism including homework and memorization.  Other more fun activities were put aside. In contrast, churches now are more likely to offer (and pay for) weeklong adventure mission trips where young people and other members can visit and offer help in exotic faraway places – even (I’m told) as remote as Nepal/Tibet. 

 

Indeed, Christian Smith describes the modern religion of young people as Moralistic Therapeutic Deism. Religion is meant to make our lives easier without imposing any costs. Convenience and comfort is the modern creed. 

 

This is not to say that no Christians sacrifice. Indeed, the impressive church facilities in Holland have been financed with the tithes and donations of members. Some give to causes that help those beyond the walls of their church. Many donate their time generously. 

 

But this all stands in stark contrast to the personal sacrifice of Muslims in observing Ramadan. Ramadan is an annual observance during which Muslims fast from sunup until sundown. Not just for a day or even a week, but for an entire month. Here in Holland when Ramadan, which follows the Islamic lunar calendar, occurs during the summer months, this means going daily from 6:00am until 9:30pm without food and water. 

 

What is the contrast with the sacrifices Christians make? Two important ones. 

First of all, Ramadan is practiced worldwide by over 90% of able-bodied Muslims past puberty.  That’s difficult enough when living in a predominantly Islamic country where laws and customs accommodate it. It is much tougher when observed in America where Muslims must continue with their jobs and other activities all while fasting. 

 

But more important is this essential difference. The sacrifices that Christians make, as explained above, are either done with an eye towards their own comfort and enjoyment, or are activities that even non-religious folk may undertake motivated by humanitarianism – such as giving to and helping the poor and needy.  

 

 In contrast, Ramadan is a singularly religious practice. Unlike Christian activities motivated by  self-serving or humanitarian reasons, Ramadan is observed solely because it is commanded by Allah. There is no other reason to make this extended annual sacrifice of time and comfort than to honor and obey Allah. 

 

That’s pure and unadulterated worship.   Impressive.

 

That’s not to say that Ramadan is without side benefits. This demanding practice promotes community and shared sacrifice similar to military traditions which develop esprit de corps. It also helps one develop self-discipline – discipline needed in observing other practices of the Islamic faith and virtuous living. Indeed, it was this discipline and community that transformed the life of Malcolm X from one of crime and self-centeredness to a life dedicated to changing the world. 

 

Impressive indeed. No matter our own beliefs, would that we all should live so well. 

Changing Colors

 HS #81 2022.4.14

 

Changing Colors

 

I heard recently that a common mistake middle aged folk make in planning for the future is assuming their interests won’t change. For the young, it’s expected that changes occur. One of the richest verses from scripture is Luke 2:52: “Jesus grew in wisdom and stature and in favor with God and man.” Getting annual Christmas cards each year, it’s clear (especially from the pictures) that attention and pride resides with the growth and development of children and grandchildren. 

 

But once we become adults and pass into and through middle age, it’s easy to suppose that our interests and passions will remain constant, even if our bodies give out a bit. Indeed, as adults our desire is to remain the same. Middle age and beyond might be defined as that period of life where we are jealous of our former selves. 

 

Poets certainly have expressed this thought. I’ve had this poem by Yeats on my refrigerator for years: “I thought no more was needed // Youth to prolong // Than dumbbell and foil // To keep the body young. // Oh, who could have foretold // That the heart grows old?” Yeats realized that our noble ambitions wane as we age. 

 

Counterexamples exist. The great Hungarian mathematician Paul Erdos, the most prolific of the 20^th century with 1500 articles, continued publishing until his death at age 83.  Similar to the Kevin Bacon Number among actors, mathematicians have an Erdos Number depending on whether they coauthored an article with Erdos (#1), coauthored with someone who coauthored with Erdos (#2) and so on. Driven by his love of mathematics, Erdos described fellow mathematicians who stopped researching as “they died.” When someone truly died, he said simply, “They left.” 

 

My 93-year-old aunt (Wanda Hendrickson) who learned how to roller blade at 75 and still takes classes at Calvin University is a personal counterexample and inspiration. Our regular visits provide an intellectual challenge. 

 

Robert Frost also contrasted between the glory of youth versus the sameness of middle age in his poem, “Nature’s first green is gold. Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf’s a flower, But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief. So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay.” 

 

Indeed, each Tulip Time reminds us that the “early leaf” – the petals of tulips – are appreciated just because we know they won’t last. In early May my front yard is gorgeous as the dogwood tree blossoms in pink and white. Then leaf subsides to leaf – to the necessary chlorophyll-green leaves which drink up the sun’s energy. 

 

 

Garrison Keiller (Prairie Home Companion) once said he’d trade his entire decade of 40’s to be 19 again. As a mathematician, I think he was on to something. Since each new year of life adds just a fraction to the memory of our past years, an alternative way to determine our age is by adding: 1 + ½ + 1/3 + 1/4 + . . . That is, early years of life are the most colorful and rich, we learn more than in our later years. High school seniors missed much more during the COVID down shutdown than did us 60-somethings. 

 

Mark Twain caught the idea with his usual wit: “Youth is so precious, it’s a shame it’s wasted on the young.” 

 

However, nature has one more lesson for us. Not only is the “early leaf” colorful, so also is the autumn leaf, albeit for a different reason. The brilliant fall pigments of red, orange and yellow are contained in the leaf all along, but they are dominated by the green chlorophyll. With less sunlight in the fall, the unneeded chlorophyll subsides, and the other colors – just as rich but not as assertive – have opportunity to express themselves. 

 

Similarly, as the passion of youth and focus of middle age subside due to changes in body chemistry and the accumulation of life experiences, perhaps that allows some subtleties in our personality – there all along – to be revealed. All of which shows that, indeed, even as we age, we continue to change – new colors, long muted, being revealed in our personalities. 

 

Is death the end of this process? Are other colors waiting to be expressed? Even the most creative among us cannot imagine the other colors in the electromagnetic spectrum left of red (infrared) and right of violet (ultraviolet). So also, any color changes to come are beyond 

ours to know and even imagine.

 

Travels with Elvis

 HS #80 2022.3.10

 

Travels with Elvis

 

I listen to audio books from Herrick District Library when driving. Biographies are my favorite. Ben Franklin, Thomas Jefferson, Theodore Roosevelt, and Leonardo da Vinci inspire and help keep one’s life in perspective. Presently I’m reading John Steinbeck’s “Travels with Charlie.” Whoever has not read his “East of Eden” should put it on their bucket list. Nothing better. 

 

Listening to Steinbeck’s adventures touring the country with his pet dog spurs me to tell adventures I had with my Welsh corgi, Elvis. When climbing the Laketown Beach steps between a friend and me, my friend observed, “He thinks he’s human, doesn’t he?” Indeed, it never occurred to Elvis that he wasn’t. 

 

It was at Laketown Beach that Elvis answered the question, “Do Dogs Know Calculus?” the title of my research paper co-authored with him. Essentially, Elvis, starting on shore, retrieved a stick thrown into Lake Michigan by first running and then swimming to fetch it as quickly as possible. The paper provided fame for both of us and gained his picture on the cover of numerous journals and several front pages of the Holland Sentinel.  I met one of his biographers (Keith Devlin, NPR’s Science Guy) at a national math convention.  Introducing myself after his talk, he exclaimed, “Tim Pennings! – I didn’t recognize you with your clothes on!” He then explained to the curious crowd (and me!) that he had sought a picture of Elvis and me for his book, but only found ones of us at the beach – me sans shirt. 

 

I readily admit that Elvis was the star of our dog and pony show – or as I’d describe, “Dog and Jack-ass Show.” A former student asked how it felt to be famous just because “you have a dog who is better looking than you even when he is running away?”  No argument. 

 

I sent two copies of the Elvis-covered math journal to fellow-corgi-lover Queen Elizabeth – one signed by me and the other requesting her signature. I received the journal from Buckingham Palace a month later with a note from her “Lady in Waiting” assuring me the Queen found our story interesting, but that she gave her signature only to those she personally knew.  Not having that rule for myself, I’m assuming she still appreciates having my signature in her library.  I kept the returned unsigned journal – after all, how many have been spurned by Her Majesty? 

 

That article led to another, “Do Dogs Know Bifurcations?” describing how Elvis, when starting in the water, would first swim to shore, then run along the shore, then swim to the stick, so that the resulting trek was the quickest. Not only did that paper earn me my highest professional honor (MAA George Polya Award), it also earned Elvis an honorary doctor’s degree from Hope College, awarded by Provost Jim Boelkins. The certificate was inscribed with the proper Latin phrase, which I shortened when I made Elvis business cards. I was later told that the abbreviated phrase had a different meaning – it conveyed “doctor” and “dog”, and because of the feminine sense of the Latin word was perhaps best translated, “Dog Gynecologist.” I’ve given away thousands. 

 

Elvis and I gave close to 300 talks all around the country, and I’ve lost count of the number of newspaper articles about him. Colleges would often invite the local press, so as we’d traveled through the state, I’d see his picture on the front page of newspapers at rest stops.  

 

He contributed to recreation trips too. As the advisor for Hope College Outdoor Adventure Club, Elvis and I led groups of students to Pictured Rocks for Fall Break. In lieu of an alarm clock, I’d unzip the tents, gently usher Elvis in among the sleeping students, then quietly command, “Speak. Speak.” Always worked. 

 

He was also fun at home. I once mistakenly fed him an Easter ham bone which plugged up his digestive track. Per the vet’s instructions, I put him on the back porch that night with the door open accessing the back yard. Feeling sorry for him, I bundled in a sleeping bag and joined him. After a chilly night’s sleep, I awoke shivering to find him warm and cozy INSIDE the house. He had pottied, gone to the front door, barked, and my neighbor let him in. 

 

What a guy. Initially Elvis was my dog who was a good friend.  Before he died Elvis was my good friend who just happened to be a dog.  Good memories. 

Three Mysterious Numbers

 HS #79 2022.2.10

 

Three Mysterious Numbers

 

 When I teach precalculus, I bring rope of various lengths to class and invite students to pair up. One holds an end stationery, and the partner – holding the other end and keeping the rope taught –  counts paces around the circumference of the resulting circle, and then across its diameter. When I did it, I counted 50 paces around, and 16 across. The ratio: 50/16 = 3.125 is an approximation of pi. The Greek letter pi represents the ratio of the length of circumference to the length of diameter. 

 

This number, so easily understood, is mysterious.  If you try to write it out as a decimal, it never stops and never starts repeating. Is there a place in the decimal expansion where there are 1000 sevens in a row? Most certainly. 

 

Pi shows up other places as well. If you continue the pattern: 1 - 1/3 + 1/5 - 1/7 + 1/9 – 1/11 + . .  and multiply the result by 4, you’ll get pi. 

 

Or try this:  Snip a piece of paper clip to the length of the distance between the lines of ruled paper. Then randomly spin and drop the clip onto the paper T times, counting the number of times (C) the clip crosses one of the lines. Then pi = 2T/C. How cool is that! 

 

Perhaps the most surprising result involving pi is also the simplest. A 25,000 mile length of string will lay around the equator of the earth.  How much longer does the string need to be if the string is raised one foot above the earth along the entire equator? I guessed 10,000 miles.  Answer: If r is the length of the radius of the earth in feet, then the equator is 2(pi)r feet. The circumference of the larger circle is 2(pi)(r+1) feet. The difference in lengths is 2(pi) feet – just over 6 feet longer! Blows my mind.

 

Here’s another mysterious number: If you have a calculator, multiply (1+1/2) by itself twice. Then multiply (1+1/3) by itself three times. Then multiply (1+1/4) by itself four times, etc. What happens to this sequence of numbers? As the sequence continues, the portion inside the parenthesis decreases to 1, but since it is multiplied by itself more times, the resulting number grows larger. So there is tension – a struggle. Some students think the resulting numbers will get closer to 1. Others think they will get arbitrarily large. Turns out that neither happens. The struggle ends in compromise.  The numbers get closer and closer to e = 2.718 . .  It’s another number that never stops. 

 

The number e is at the heart of the “normal distribution” or “bell shaped curve” which is used extensively in statistics. So, like pi, it is super important in understanding the world. 

 

One other mysterious – beautiful – number:   Consider the sequence: 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, . . where each successive number is gained by adding the previous two. This is the famous Fibonacci Sequence. These numbers are found throughout nature – count the petals on a flower or the seeds in an arch of a sunflower, or the knobs in a row of a pineapple and you will often get a Fibonacci number. If you divide a Fibonacci number by its predecessor, the result will be about phi = 1.618 . .  Yet another number that goes on forever. This number is called the Golden Ratio. If you construct a rectangle so that the length of the longer side is phi times the length of the shorter side, you get a Golden Rectangle. Remove a square from a Golden Rectangle, and the remainder is another Golden Rectangle. When I ask 5^thgraders how many times this can be done, they shout “Infinite!” Their response gives me goosebumps; how interesting that even children imagine infinity.  (See Ecclesiastes 3:11.) Golden Rectangles are found throughout art and architecture. da Vinci used them extensively. Google it and see for yourself. 

 

On the other side of the interesting-spectrum of numbers are 0 and 1 - the most basic and ordinary numbers around. Adding 0 doesn’t change a number, and multiplying by 1 doesn’t change it. 1 has a counterpart, i, which is its imaginary cousin. How eerie then that 0, 1, i, e, and pi can all be combined in one simple equation – called Euler’s Equation, perhaps the Holy Grail of Mathematics. Yet one more surprise: “Euler” is pronounced, “oiler.” Pronouncing it correctly will impress any mathematician. 

Secrets Make You Sick

 HS #78 2022.1.13

 

Secrets Make You Sick

 

 “Life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards.”- Soren Kierkegaard.

 

For the last thirty years, my “home away from home” has been the Au Train Beach on the south shore of Lake Superior, ten miles from Pictured Rocks. Many good times of fires, frisbee, new friends, and watching shooting stars while sleeping on the beach. Best spot on earth!

 

Highway 28 passes over the Au Train River as it enters the beach, so there is a bridge locals and tourists use for jumping. Fathers encourage timorous children to leap – standing in the water ready to catch them. I’ve jumped a few times myself. Life doesn’t get any better. 

 

So it strikes me strange that the most prominent graffiti on the concrete side of the bridge is the bold, black-painted phrase, “SECRETS MAKE YOU SICK.”   I’ve contemplated who wrote it and why. Most likely a teenager. Filled with angst. Betrayed by a friend? Jilted? 

 

Whoever and whatever, one thing is evident: The author discovered a deep truth. Secrets do make one sick – I should know. 

 

Until ten years ago, I carried a secret. As a child, when the family was safely across the street at church on Sunday morning, I’d open the family Bible to the picture of Sampson at the treadmill – muscular in a loin cloth. I was fascinated by the brawny physique. 

 

In third grade I had a secret crush on a couple 6^th graders. I admired their poise and athleticism. 

 

My secret took a name six years later when reading an article in TIME magazine about homosexuals – a new word for me. But the description rang true. I shuddered realizing the article was describing me. 

 

Continuing through high school, my fears were confirmed. Friends would point out a cute girl and I would agree, keeping my true thoughts to myself – that I had noticed instead the guy she was with.  

 

I went on to college and leadership in Campus Crusade for Christ. I considered joining the staff after college, but the application form had a question, “Are you physically attracted to those of the same sex?” This forced me, at age 20, to reveal my secret for the first time – to a CCC Director. He reassured me that “You are not gay in Christ.” I so wanted to believe him. 

 

I finished undergrad, six years of grad school, and six years pre-tenure at Hope College without telling anyone. I lied only a couple times when, then in my thirties, friends asked why I wasn’t in a relationship. I envied those who could enjoy beer/wine without fear of revealing guarded thoughts.

 

After getting tenure, I bought a house, and furniture from Ten Harmsel on 8^th Street. I remember my quandary deciding what size bed to buy, and choking up when the salesperson counseled, “You’re single now, but shouldn’t you buy for the future?” 

 

In 2008, I spent two weeks in Tokyo. On the subway, the young man next to me fell asleep and his head lay on my shoulder for 15 minutes. I soaked up the experience – the longest duration of human contact I had since childhood. 

 

I was 53 when my parents died. I never told them. I’ve wondered the reaction had I told my minister-father when in high school/college.  I discovered the answer when sorting through his letters after he died.  In 1977 he wrote “strongest possible opposition” to a state legislator who voted to extend rights to homosexuals. Dad called homosexuality a highly pernicious destructive force and spiritual illness from which society needs protection. 

 

I sometimes wonder how life would have differed had I told my secret earlier. Would I have lost my college friends? Perhaps. Would I have gotten a faculty position at the alma mater of my father and grandfather? Tenure?  Tough choices.

 

Nathaniel Hawthorne captured the double-edged poison of secrets in “The Scarlet Letter.” The truth of Hester Prynne was known, and she bore the results of rejection daily. But even worse was the internal damage, the soul-sickness, done to her lover who kept the secret within. The former may bring loneliness and isolation. The latter will for sure. 

 

The world is still a tough place for those who are caught in Kierkegaard’s dilemma and forced to decide whether and when to leap – as from the Au Train bridge – by revealing their secret. Hopefully, they have trustworthy friends and relatives – as I did – standing ready to catch them.