Advent: A Look Towards a Hopeful Future

 HS #65 2020.12.10

 

Advent

 

 

Last summer, returning to the Au Train beach from a Lake Superior kayaking venture, I came upon a wrestling camp in progress. A gung-ho military-styled coach was training a couple dozen junior high youth as their parents looked on from a distance. Having explained the necessity of being in top shape, he paired them with instructions for one to carry his partner on his back for 60 yards down the beach, then trade places for the return trip. As the coach exhorted and cajoled, all returned sweating and heaving, except one slightly built wrestler who was straining under the weight of his partner.

 

All could see the pain on the young face as he labored to keep his balance in the loose sand and grappled to keep the load from slipping off his back. It was clear that he was not going to make it. After a gallant effort, he approached the coach standing 20 yards from the finish line and prepared to drop his teammate onto the sand.  

 

But the coach would have none of it.  Seemingly blind to the pain of the faltering lad, he refused to let him stop, instead pointing to the finish line and bullying him onward. 

 

With no option but forward, tears of rage mixed with salt and sand covered his agonized face. I watched in anger, wondering if any parent would step forward to stop the emotional and physical abuse. Twice he hesitated, but somehow was able to command his wavering legs to take another step - then another - two more yards to go - then collapsed on the finish line to the cheers of his fellow wrestlers and the relieved parents. 

 

That young man will never be the same. I am sure of it. Heck, it was life changing for me just witnessing it. My contempt for the bully coach turned to profound respect as I saw what he had just given that boy - gave him a lesson that went far beyond wrestling or physical endeavor. 

 

I never met the coach, but I suspect that Holland has a statue in honor of a kindred spirit. Recently I read “With this Inheritance” written by Sara Michel and illustrated by Del Michel. It gives the account of Albertus Van Raalte leading the original group of one hundred Hollanders to Western Michigan. Jailed and fined in the Netherlands for disobeying laws regulating worship, Van Raalte met tough times head-on. Learning English while on the ship, he served as minister, translator, counselor, encourager, explorer, builder, teacher, host, and entrepreneur to the colony. He led them in hewing out a new settlement in a wilderness so thick with trees that corn and potatoes were planted between tree roots, the 70 foot windmill they constructed would not turn due to blocked wind, and new arrivers carried axes to mark trees when fetching their cows in order to find their way back home. 

 

He had no coach to encourage him as he encouraged others in the midst of hunger, illness and death. Instead, his motivation was “this inheritance from God’s hand and desire to attain God’s end.” 

 

Both of these individuals point us to Advent. They envisioned a future event with fervent hope, whether it was 20 yards away or “God’s nursery for eternity.” This is a tough hope rooted in truth and requiring action and sacrifice as opposed to wishful thinking rooted in passivity and cynicism.

 

It forms a stark contrast to those whose false beliefs align with what they wish to be true: dying COVID patients denying the reality of the pandemic, those who claim the recent election was fraudulent despite firsthand testimony and judgements to the contrary, and those certain that global warming is a hoax, avoiding “an inconvenient truth” thus keeping their present lifestyle with no guilt. As a former student of mine has noted, “the mind justifies what the heart desires.” 

 

Al Franken caught the contrast between easy belief and tough hope: “Some love America like a toddler loves their mommy - it can do no wrong. Others love America like a parent loves their teenager - they know it can do better.”

 

This year, even in the darkness of the presently increasing COVID death rate, we have opportunity to exercise tough hope – to celebrate Advent as we look forward with justified assurance to the end of the reign of the coronavirus with a vaccine provided by the arduous labor of scientists. It is an Advent built on grit, tenacity and truth. 

Boron Rods

 HS #64 2020.11.12

 

Boron Rods

 

I remember it vividly. My 6^th grade science class was watching a film that explained nuclear reactions – a reaction caused when a neutron smashes into a uranium-235 nucleus releasing three more neutrons and a bit of energy. The resulting exponential growth in the number of neutrons results in a nuclear explosion. 

 

To demonstrate it, the floor of an entire room was covered with mousetraps – each with a ping pong ball perched on it. When a single ball was tossed into the room, it sprang a trap releasing another ball, and those two landed on two more traps which released their balls. Almost instantly the air was filled with flying ping pong balls. This is what destroyed Hiroshima and Nagasaki. 

 

In order to explain exponential growth to my math classes, I use the great-grandpa example. Suppose you have two ancestors who 200 years ago each deposited $10 in a bank at 6% annual interest. The first included directions that each year the interest be removed and collected in a jar, while the other directed that the interest stay in the bank to earn additional interest.

 

The first account grows at a constant rate of 60 cents each year, so after five years there is $13.00 and after 200 years a total of $130. What about the second? At the end of the first year, you have $10 times 1.06  = $10.60. A 60¢ increase. Second year: $10.60 times 1.06 = $11.24. A 64¢ increase.  Then a 67¢ increase. Then 71¢. After five years, you have $13.38 – 38¢ more than the first. How much after 200 years? A whopping $1,151,259.04 

 

Unlike linear growth which increases at a constant rate, exponential growth happens whenever the amount of change is not constant but instead grows proportional to the amount present.  Whether a bank account, a nuclear bomb, zebra mussels, or small pox which decimated continents, the result is the same: unconstrained explosive growth. 

 

So how then do we harness nuclear energy to safely produce electricity? Boron rods are positioned in the reactor chamber to absorb enough of the particles to keep the chain reaction from going wild. If pushed in all the way, the reaction stops. If pulled out, the reaction turns into an explosion. Simple. 

 

When the Manhatten Project under the bleachers at the University of Chicago tested the first nuclear reaction, Enrico Fermi and company had done all the calculations on slide rules to assure that things would go as planned. But so great was the consequence of a miscalculation that a physicist stood ready with an ax to drop control rods into the reactor if needed. They also considered positioning a suicide squad of three young physicists on the ceiling with containers of cadmium-sulfate (neutron-absorbing) solution. 

 

By absorbing just enough of the neutrons, they achieved an exponential rate of 1.0006 (equivalent to a tiny interest rate of 0.06%), but that was enough to convince them that the theory of Einstein and Bohr really worked. Had they not put the control rods back in place, within 90 minutes the one-half watt of power would have multiplied to a million kilowatts – vaporizing them and melting the room. 

 

What do the boron rods do? By absorbing neutrons, they lower the exponential rate to a number less than 1. In the same way that 1.0006 multiplied by itself enough times will increase without bound, so also a number less than 1, say 0.9995 multiplied by itself repeatedly will head to zero. Lower the average number of released neutrons to less than 1, and the reaction dies down – similar to a bouncing ball coming to rest. 

Do you see where this is going? Our present coronavirus is a biological explosion. Social distancing and masks for all of us and isolation for those who test positive are our only effective “boron rods.” Without them, the virus will explode through the human population. If we wear them and responsibly distance and isolate ourselves, the multiplier rate will be less than 1, and the number of people with the virus will head to 0 – as it has done in China. 

 

Unfortunately, as with out-of-tune singers in a choir, even though most are responsible, a few  people can have a big negative effect, thus raising the multiplier above 1.  If 99% of cars are low-exhaust, but 1% are heavy polluters, the air is bad. The key is for EVERYONE to be responsible. Nothing else will do it. The math is simple.

This I Believe

 HS #63 2020.10.8

 

This I Believe

 

Recently a reader asked me to provide my underlying beliefs. He was referring to political beliefs, but I agree with G.K. Chesterton, “The most practical and important thing about a person is his view of the universe.” The philosopher Wittgenstein claimed that we all have core beliefs. These form the stationary hinge around which our other beliefs can then move. For twenty-five years, teaching senior seminars at Hope College, I challenged students to identify and reflect critically on their core beliefs. After all, none other than Socrates observed that “the unexamined life is not worth living.” So in the remaining space I give an overview of my beliefs, and challenge readers to do the same. 

 

My father liked to say, “All Indians walk in single file – at least the one I saw did.” That humorous line captures two important points: We learn by making generalizations from what we experience. However, those generalizations may be wrong.  If a growling dog bites me, I should stay away from growling dogs. However, I shouldn’t avoid ALL dogs. So making correct generalizations from our experiences is important. 

 

First, I learn about the universe by experiencing it directly via my five senses. I gain wonder and awe from sunsets over Lake Michigan. I learned multiplication by playing with blocks. I learned about forces from teeter totters and merry-go-rounds and bicycles. I discover what makes people happy and angry by interacting with friends and siblings. 

 

I also experience the universe directly through an internal sense. Immanuel Kant said, “Two things fill the mind with admiration and awe: the starry heavens above me and the moral law within me.” I agree. Even though I lose out on the fun of spending the money, something inside (possibly God’s imprint) compels me that I should return a lost wallet to its owner. As the physicist-priest John Polkinghorne said, “I know, as certainly as I know anything, that love is better than hate.” 

 

Finally, as the above paragraphs suggest, I learn about the universe through the testimony of others. Indeed, most that I know has come that way. I have experienced sixty years of history, but I know thousands of years of it. Via my eyes I see specks of light in the night sky, but via the testimony of others, I know that some of those specks are huge fusion furnaces like our sun and others are swirling swarms of billions of suns. All of this from the testimony of others – historians, biographers, scientists. 

 

But this is where things get tricky. I have learned from experience that the testimony of others is unreliable. Some are mistaken or deceitful, while others, including myself, are easily fooled. I recently learned via NPR that I have been sorting plastic in vain. Recycling numbers was a gimmick to get Americans to use more plastic – guilt free. I bought in. That is, unless I am being sold a false story by NPR. How do I know? 

 

Religious claims are especially problematic.   There may be intelligent life elsewhere in the universe. However, if anyone claimed they were abducted by extra-terrestrials, I would doubt the veracity.  Similarly, although a personal God or spiritual dimension may exist, I doubt those who claim to have personal information or experience with it. Just too many varied and contrary claims amongst the 4000 religions.  Obviously, most – possibly all - are mistaken.

 

Personally, I put scientists high on my “trustworthy” list. Why? Not because they are better than the rest of us, but because they are engaged in a career where gaining truth is the primary objective and is robustly and critically sought. I am presently peer-reviewing a mathematics article for a journal. Before it’s printed, several mathematicians will scour it for mistakes. Any major scientific finding is reviewed by hundreds. There’s a plumb for anyone who finds flaws in another’s discovery. Additionally, others repeat the experiments. 

 

Recently I watched Francis Collins (physicist, physician, director of Human Genome Project, NIH Director, founder of BioLogos, and author of “The Language of God”) receive the Templeton Prize which is given to a person who “harnesses the power of the sciences to explore the deepest questions of the universe and humankind’s place and purpose within it.” 

 

An atheist who became a Christian at age 27 after being challenged by one of his patients to examine his own world view, Collins is presently searching for a coronavirus antidote, warning about human-caused global warming, and advocating for truth and harmony. That’s an examined life worth living.  

White Privilege

 HS #62 2020.9.10

 

White Privilege 

 

Every so often I have an “ah-ha” moment when blinders are seemingly removed from my eyes. Yet, I hesitate to make that claim because, like the blind man healed by Jesus, I am perhaps still not seeing clearly, but unlike the blindman, not realizing it. 

 

Be that as it may, I recently heard that in Saginaw Valley there is a monument commemorating its first white person - a Jesuit missionary priest in 1675. 

 

I instantly had two thoughts: “Cool! That’s a tidbit of history one wouldn’t know if not for the monument. It prods one to imagine the Valley back then.” The other was, “What hubris! Why do whites think that the first white is an occasion for celebration and note? Reflecting a bit more, I realized that if I saw a monument for “the first black in Michigan” I would likely think to myself, “There’s more of that political correctness stuff - someone trying to make a point.” 

 

Only at such times do I realize the deep extent of white privilege in my own thinking – even after having been sensitized by the death of George Floyd and the many yard signs in Holland proclaiming “Black Lives Matter.” 

 

I was recently in a conversation with someone who asked the purpose of those signs. His question, “What are they meant to accomplish? How am I to act differently after having seen one?” Good questions. Yet my “ah-ha” moment shows exactly their purpose. They hopefully help show me – and other whites – that, like it or not, admit it or not, I am part of the problem. 

 

Ironically, although affluent white Americans are likely among the most traveled in the world, this extensive exposure to other cultures may serve to increase our sense of pride and entitlement rather than increase our appreciation for other peoples and cultures.  I remember visiting the cliff dwellings in Mesa Verde, Colorado and being told by a Native American guide how well constructed these 800-year-old structures were. We climbed ladders to get a closer look at the clay rooms. Then it occurred to me that they were about the age of the great cathedrals of Europe. “Why are you so proud of this?”, I thought. 

 

I also remember visiting villages in Ecuador with simply constructed homes and children running around and about. While others commented how small and close-together they were, I found myself envious of the tight community they allowed. What a contrast to our life style where we stay secluded in air-conditioned homes, locked doors, and put up “No Trespassing” and “Private Beach” signs. How bizarre, when you think of it – this European idea that we can own a piece of the 4.5-billion-year-old earth. Like a flea owning the elephant. 

 Native Americans saw things differently – they viewed the earth as owning them.

 

But didn’t Europeans control much of the globe? Doesn’t that give them cause for pride? “Guns, Germs, and Steel” by Jared Diamond provides an answer. Much of it was accidental. Smallpox and other European diseases wiped out 95% of the Native American population, as they did indigenous peoples on other continents.  Some is “personality.” In the 15^th and 16^th century China began exploring for trade while Europeans explored to conquer. 

 

The point is, we whites look around, see the world through our value system, and can’t help but think that we’re rather special. “If you’re not Dutch, you’re not much” is meant to be a joke, but, as Proverbs 26:19 points out, jokes often contain a germ of one’s true thought. 

 

So what can be done? Do we destroy the monument in Saginaw? Recently a John Wayne exhibit was closed upon discovering Wayne was a white supremacist – at least as indicated by things he said. Wayne, like all of us, was a person of his own time.  Do we censor him forever because he didn’t have the opportunity for the “ah ha” moments we have had?  What happens when we uncover 30-year-old comments or actions by our leaders and heros? Can we progress individually and as a society while still allowing for mistakes of the past? Isn’t intolerance for past actions a close relative of intolerance for other ethnicities? Aren’t both built on pride in one’s present position?  

 

Wisdom is needed, and wisdom, as shown by Solomon and Daniel (the two Biblical characters described as being wise) involves creative thinking and imagination. Someone in Saginaw Valley suggested leaving the monument and erecting another for Native Americans. That’s a clever start. 

 

A Recent Wedding Reflection: A Three-fold cord

 HS #61 2020.8.13

 

A Recent Wedding Reflection: A Three-fold cord

 

My favorite book of the Bible is Ecclesiastes. This Book of Wisdom asks tough questions about life and doesn’t give tidy answers. Like any good piece of art, such as the enigmatic smile of Mona Lisa, it has a mysterious, unexplained element.

 

The author begins one portion: “Two are better than one, for if one falls, the other will lift up. If two lie together, they are warm. And though a single person might be overcome in a fight, two will endure.”  But then comes the mystery in the last sentence, “A threefold cord is not quickly broken.” What’s the point of ending this passage with a THREE-FOLD cord? How does it apply? 

 

Exploring the mathematics, the author is correct. Two strands wound around each other can be pulled apart. That is why our DNA is a twisted DOUBLE helix – two strands that can be separated when needed. 

 

However, an interesting topological situation happens when a third cord is included. This third cord – interwoven with the other two – forms an elegant braid in which all three strands stay bound together. 

 

What does that have to do with marriage? Isn’t the love between two people enough? Is something else needed? Does something else add richness and strength to the relationship just as a third cord adds beauty and strength to a braided rope? 

 

This is the mystery. The author doesn’t tell us what he had in mind – maybe nothing. Perhaps, like good art, he intentionally left it to us to contemplate. However, the rest of Ecclesiastes gives some hints. 

 

The author is skeptical of some things. For example, he writes, “Who knows whether the spirit of man goes upward and the spirit of the beast goes down to the earth.” In other words, he has no special reason to believe in an afterlife. However, there is a noteworthy exhortation further on: “Remember thy Creator.”

 

The philosopher Simone Weil agrees. She wrote, “I am quite sure there is a God in the sense that I am sure my love is no illusion. I am quite sure there is no God in the sense that I am sure there is nothing which resembles whatever I conceive when I say that word.”  Fascinating.  So she is claiming that God is ultimately the cause – the source – of love, but who exactly this God is, is a mystery. Kind of like the enigmatic God who described himself to Moses as merely “I am that I am.”

 

 Just perhaps the Psalmist is right when he says, “The young lion roars – seeking its prey from God.” Just perhaps there is a personal God who is ultimately behind even the food of a strong self-sufficient young lion. Did Romeo kill himself because he thought Juliet was dead? Or was it because Shakespeare wanted him to? Similarly, is there an Author behind the good lives that you two have had and who is smiling right now as you join together? In case there is, how might you “Remember thy Creator” in your new home? How might God, however mysterious or known be a third strand? 

 

But in fairness, Ecclesiastes seems focused not so much on God, but on how to live a fulfilled life.  The author quickly dispenses with some things: wealth, possessions, accomplishments, pleasure.  It’s not clear that the author himself even finds the answer. Great philosophers through the centuries have wrestled with trying to answer this question.

 

In the 20^th century the psychologist Maslow may have succeeded.  He formed a pyramid of human needs – like the food pyramid. The base includes food, shelter and security, then higher up love, belonging, respect and finally self-actualization – essentially becoming the most you can be. 

 

But later in life, Maslow realized that there was yet a higher level. He wrote, “The self only finds its full actualization in giving itself to some goal outside oneself, in altruism and spirituality.” The poet Mary Oliver expressed the same challenge, “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” 

 

What a moment! You are coming here as two individuals – you will be leaving as one couple. Marriage is a semi permeable membrane – it goes in just one direction.  Just one wild and precious life and you both are ready here and now to commit that life to each other.

 

Well and good for the present. But later, as you reflect and plan a rich, purposeful new life together, ask yourselves “What will be the third strand?”

 

 

 

Rights versus Responsibilities

HS #60 2020.7.9

Rights versus Responsibilities

Before the coronavirus ever met our shores, I suspected that the U.S. would be hit especially hard by this modern plague.  Back to that later. 

As a college professor, I have long noticed a moral transformation that can happen when a young person leaves home for college. I explain it using two concentric circles – a smaller one inside a larger one. 

Having lived with parents who made the rules and set the boundaries, eighteen-year-olds are practiced at living within the larger circle of “what they are allowed to do.” Moral thought is focused on staying within the circle, perhaps getting as close to the boundary as possible without crossing it.  How late can they stay out? What can they consume? What are the (perhaps unspoken) rules concerning physical/romantic relationships? They had little choice in the matter. Afterall, those making the rules were living under the same roof and often the source of transportation and finances.  

Then they leave home for college.  Yes, there are still college rules needed for living in community, and sometimes a roommate can be more demanding than parents. But largely, they have greatly increased liberty to make their own choices. Along with choosing their own bedtimes (or more likely having no regular bedtime), eating when and what they want, and hanging out with whomever they find interesting, college students also have opportunity to jettison – or at least loosen – former moral prescriptions. So the outer circle increases in size as they enjoy exercising their newly gained liberty. 

But, ideally, even as the outer circle enlarges and perhaps fades, the inner circle will become their new focus. Call it the “college challenge.”

While the outer circle is defined by “What CAN I do?” the inner circle is defined by “What SHOULD I do?” and even “What is the best thing to do?” While one is motivated to stay in the outer circle for extrinsic reasons – to stay out of trouble, the motivation to aim for the inner circle is intrinsic: How can I become a better person?  What is the right, the caring, the loving, the courageous, even the sacrificial thing to do?

A good college experience will encourage students to ask these questions and find worthy answers. The encouragement should come via classes which raise questions about living justly in a world of limited resources, caring for body and spirit, and living with compassion and empathy.  The encouragement may be modeled by speakers who challenge students to look beyond themselves and see themselves as part of a larger community. 

Perhaps most significantly, transformation will come from meeting and becoming friends with those who have different lifestyles and values and disparate life experiences. I remember a lunch conversation with a basketball player from Davenport University’s varsity team.  He was grateful that DU required only a few “general ed” classes. I challenged him that perhaps such classes are needed to help students gain a broader view of the world. He immediately responded that a friend from the team came from one of Grand Rapid’s wealthiest families, while another came effectively from off the street. Thus, his friends and teammates were enlarging and challenging his worldview. I yielded my point – impressed. 

Although focusing on the inner circle has the advantage of advancing moral maturity and ethical excellence, we in America live in a culture which encourages us to concentrate on the prominent outer circle.  “RIGHTS” are boldly emblazoned in the Constitution. Thus, it’s easy for Americans to focus on what we have the liberty to do rather than what we ought to do. While other countries may emphasize living in community, shared sacrifice, and being a responsible member of society, the prominent focus for many of us is “What are my rights? What CAN I do?” We are encouraged, for example, to claim the right to “keep your money in your own pocket,” while those from other countries cheerfully pay higher taxes – understanding it’s for the common good. 

This mentality also explains why presently many proudly proclaim their right not to wear masks and eschew recommendations for social distancing. Recently, concerning large political rallies,  the Vice President of the United States, the person given the responsibility for forming a national COVID-19 strategy, boldly stated, “We have the right to freedom of speech, and the right to peaceably assemble.”  

Indeed we do. But those rights are hurting us just now. Although we may have no leader to encourage us, let’s take the “college challenge” and focus on the inner circle. 

A Tale of Two Cities

HS #59 2020.6.11

A Tale of Two Cities

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. It was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity . . . “

These lines of Charles Dickens ring true.  Did anyone else, upon hearing of the arrest of the other three Minneapolis police officers, have the acerbic thought that hopefully now we can leave this bad news behind and get back to the corona virus? 

Of course, that’s just the problem. We shouldn’t leave “this bad news” behind us.        

Since I’m quoting great literature, here’s Yeats: “Things fall apart; The centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world.  The best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity.” Regular readers of my column may recognize the phrase, “Things fall apart.” It is the title of the award-winning book by African author Chinua Achebe that was the focus of last month’s column.  

 “The best lack all conviction.” This phrase reveals the commonality between the two trials in which we currently find ourselves. 

What makes the corona virus so destructive? Ironically, it is the very fact that it is not so destructive. A person can carry this virus for days before the symptoms begin to emerge. Moreover, a large portion of our population gets no symptoms at all, yet can readily pass it on.  That is, instead of having just two distinct populations of the healthy and the symptomatic, there is a third group – the enablers - which is part of the problem even though they don’t appear to be. Indeed, it is those comfortable ones in the middle which pose the real threat. 

Martin Luther King had a similar thought.  In his Letter from a Birmingham Jail, King penned, “The Negro’s great stumbling block is not the KKK, but the white moderate, who is more devoted to “order” than to justice – who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice – who constantly advises the Negro to wait for a ‘more convenient season.’”  

As with corona, the dangerous ones are those invisible in the middle – the lukewarm. It’s not the “worst filled with passionate intensity” who are the real problem. The “Derek Chauvins” of this world will always exist. It’s that “the best lack all conviction.”

When I read George Orwell’s “Animal Farm” in high school, my teacher asked who was responsible for the evil that happened. The quick easy answer was Napoleon, the tyrant pig. But through Socratic questioning, our teacher pulled the true answer from us. It was perhaps Boxer, the Horse. Boxer represented the silent masses who passively allowed the evil to go unchallenged.

King gave another famous address – here in Michigan – at Grosse Point High School, in the affluent 92%-white suburb of Detroit. The title of his speech was “The Other America” which he began by explaining that “this country has this kind of dualism, this schizophrenia, so every city ends up being two cities rather than one.”

 Continuing, he spoke of “our cities going up in flames.” While condemning riots, he challenged the white audience that “a riot is the language of the unheard. And what is it America has failed to hear? It has failed to hear that the promises of freedom and justice have not been met. And it has failed to hear that large segments of white society are more concerned about tranquility and the status quo than about justice and humanity.”

Will it be different this time? Do the best still lack all conviction? There are signs of hope. We are getting glimpses of the best of times. Tens of thousands – blacks and whites together –  marching in peaceful protest and solidarity. Thousands more – blacks and whites together –  cleaning up the destruction of the vandals and looters. White police officers kneeling in solidarity with protesters. Many trying to empathize (while acknowledging the impossibility) with blacks – black men especially – who felt their faces ground into the pavement, felt their  throats pressed shut, felt their life slowly ebb. Can we embrace the words, “We are one nation, and their pain is our pain, their dreams are our dreams, we share one nation, one home and one glorious destiny.” Is this dream impossible? Dare we hope? Dare we continue the fight? Don Quixote gives answer, “To change the world, my friend, Sancho, is not madness nor utopia. It’s justice.” 

2020 Vision

HS #58 2020.5.21

2020 Vision

2020 has given us a new vision of our world.  Let’s explore one aspect via the contributions of three good books – all worth reading if you have some extra time.

“The River of Doubt” by Candice Millard details the compelling adventure of Theodore Roosevelt after his term as president as he joined his son and others in exploring and mapping an unknown tributary of the Amazon River. The author knows her history AND her biology. She reveals that the tropical rainforests are very different from our northern forests. Essentially, the diversity of life in our neck of the woods is comparatively limited, because it is all new. Glaciers covered this area until only 14,000 years ago. So we have relatively homogenous forests. Without much variety, trees of a given species can easily find others of their species for wind-blown pollination.

In contrast, the tropical regions have existed uninterrupted for millions of years. This has allowed time for flora and fauna to co-evolve into specialized niches. Consequently, tropical regions have exotic looking flora and fauna. There are almost ten times as many species of (brightly colored and varied shaped) fish in the Amazon as there are of the same-colored-and-shaped fish in the Mississippi/Missouri system.  

Case in point: Trees of one rain forest species live a long distance from their nearest fertilizing partner. How then do they fertilize? The flower of the tree opens at the exact time that a short-lived insect hatches which feeds on nothing but the pollen of the flower. Given the long evolution of these complex relationships, individuals of one species are critically dependent upon individuals of other species. 

“Things Fall Apart” is the award-winning book by African author Chinua Achebe. Short and an easy read, it tells the fictional but believable story of an African village which becomes home to a couple Western missionaries. These newcomers are sensitive to cultural differences and thus are careful not to be a disruptive force. But alas, their presence sets things in motion that undermine and eventually destroy the village. “Things fall apart” not because of wanton ignorance or malice, but just because the societal framework is fragile. 

Finally, “Antifragile” is a fascinating nonfiction read by Nassim Taleb, who also authored “The Black Swan.” The author describes three different ways to respond to stress. Some things are fragile, that is, easily broken or destroyed. As with the Sword of Damocles hanging by a thread above his head as he eats the king’s feast, just a slight perturbation will bring destruction. 

In contrast to fragile things, durable things are resistant to stress. These can handle change and still retain their form and use. Recall the Phoenix as a classical example. After being harangued and beaten down in spirit, the Phoenix resurrects to its original form. Totally durable. 

However, in contrast to both of these, there are some things which not only withstand stress, but actually are improved by it. The author coins the term "antifragile" for such things. Can you think of a classical example? The Hydra was the mythical beast who, when its head was cut off, grew two heads – twice the strength. Do antifragile things actually exist? Yes, our bones are antifragile. When broken, the healed bone is stronger than the original. Our bodies are antifragile when stressed by viruses and bacteria. Antibodies are formed making the body better than before. 

Can you see the common theme of these books? Similar to coniferous forests, simple societies did not have time to evolve into complicated interdependent entities. Homesteaders who settled the Midwest carried all they needed in a horse-drawn wagon, built a house out of sod or logs on 40 acres, and were self-sufficient in feeding and protecting themselves. A simple society such as that is quite durable. Individuals may be harmed, but no societal damage. 

On the other hand, modern society, like the rainforest, is fragile because it is so interdependent. Even as opposed to a generation ago, factories now operate on just-in-time inventory, thus depending entirely on manufacturers and transportation from around the globe. We all reap the benefits every time we eat a banana or drive a car. But just as Damocles learned that privilege comes with risk, so have we learned it in 2020 – a new 2020 vision. 

Our challenge then, as individuals, communities, nations, and as a world is to ponder how post COVID-19 we can start rebuilding societal structures that retain previous advantages, but are more durable – and possibly even antifragile. 

Existential Threat

HS #57 2020.4.9

Existential Threat

“Existential threat.” No one has defined that term, but we have been hearing it lately.  Bernie Sanders uses it to describe global warming. Democratic leaders apply it to Trump. The current pandemic brings it front and center.  I take it to mean a threat that causes everyone to take stock of their own vulnerability and mortality. It is also a threat that alters our understanding of reality.

Existential threats are as old as human civilization.  What is the Old Testament if not a history of existential threats: The Flood, the bondage in Egypt, Goliath and the Philistines.   

 One of the most powerful, if less known, Old Testament accounts is when the King of Syria sends an army to capture the prophet Elisha. Elisha’s servant wakes and finds the city surrounded by enemy chariots. Seeing no hope for rescue, he cries to Elisha in terror.  The untroubled prophet asks God to “open his eyes.” Instantly the young man sees that between them and the enemy is an entire hillside of chariots of fire.  What a story! Interesting that it often takes an existential threat to help us see a different side of reality – to see something that has been there all along but hitherto invisible or unnoticed. 

In 1988 the Knickerbocker Theatre showed a four-star Norwegian movie, Pathfinder, based on a thousand-year-old Norse legend. Bands of marauders, Tchudes ravaged the frozen Scandinavian north country preying on settlers and plundering villages. 

In the opening scene a teenage boy escapes as his family is killed and eventually finds refuge in a distant hamlet. He laments to the venerable spiritual leader of the village, the Pathfinder, that he is now alone; he has no one. The Pathfinder counters: No, you are not alone – we are all bound together with invisible bonds. 

The young loner is captured by the Tchudes, but is saved by the Pathfinder who trades his own life to save the boy’s. With all hope lost, the young man tricks the Tchudes to their death in an avalanche, ostensibly sacrificing himself in the process. Witnesses claim in awe, “He gave his own life that we might live.”  As the community honors the death of their young savior, we then see the young man’s hand, as he, exhausted, pull himself out of the rubble as if rising from an Easter tomb.  Returning to the village, he announces, “The Tchudes will never harm us again.”  

An inspiring movie well worth watching – I have shown it to scores of friends.  The climax occurs with that two-letter word, “us”.  The young man, having thought he was alone in the world, has found a new community – a community that chooses him as their new Pathfinder. But more importantly, he fully realizes the truth of his mentor: We are all bound together. 

And this is the reality of which I have become more aware during the world’s current existential threat. Indeed, for better or worse, we ARE all bound together. 

Can we find stronger evidence? Perhaps last December as we were busy preparing Christmas dinners, someone in Wuhun China (had you ever heard of Wuhun?) bought an animal at a wet market (ever heard of a wet market?) for dinner. Unfortunately, the animal had likely been bitten by a bat which carried the coronavirus. (Ever heard of that virus?) Someone getting dinner on the other side of the globe has changed our world.  We, the human race, yea, all life on earth - we are connected. 

Last November I sent an email to a couple of friends: “Just back from my favorite walk to Kollen Park along 12th Street. As I was walking, I was thinking, "What a cool place to live - the earth, that is." Wanted to send a text to all other planets, "Hey, we're having a party of life here on planet earth!" Then as I passed your homes, I realized a big reason for the good times - it's folks like you. Glad to have you as friends.” 

I’m taking that same walk these days, but with an even deeper realization of our connectedness. We first learned it fifty years ago with the Apollo 8 mission: We all live together on a tiny  beautiful blue and white globe floating in the immensity of space.  We, all living things on earth, share the same DNA, the same ancestors, the same destiny. Let’s continue taking care of each other. We’re among friends. Let’s keep the party going. 

Counterintuitive Insights

HS #56 2020.3.12

Counterintuitive Insights

Recently I got into an oft-repeated conversation in the locker room of MVP Athletic Club. Several of us were getting dressed in one crowded aisle while the rest of the locker room was empty. So the inevitable comment: Here’s Murphy’s Law in action – the undesirable outcome happens most often. 

Actually, not the case. Most of the time, men (and presumably, women) are distributed throughout the locker room. We just notice the rare occasions when we’re bunched up. 

The situation illustrates a common mistake in perception. Humans are not very good at taking into account the entirety of our experience. A similar thing happens when folks attribute a streak of six three-point shots in a basketball game to a “hot hand.” Nope. It’s just going to happen every once in a while.  

Want some proof?  Suppose you had a fair (balanced) coin and you flipped it 30 times, what would the sequence of heads (H) and tails (T) look like? Try this: Write out a random sequence of 30 Hs and Ts. THEN, flip a coin thirty times and compare the sequences. Don’t continue reading until you have done it. 

Please – some of you haven’t done it yet. 

OK – Here’s my prediction: The ACTUAL sequence of heads and tails has a longer string of all heads or all tails than the random one you imagined. Am I correct? 

Humans don’t realize that randomness produces such strings as often as it does. Moreover, as with the locker room and hot streaks, we remember such things when they do happen.  But statistical analysis shows that these events happen about as often as probability would predict. 

In the examples above, events happened that we didn’t expect. Another mistake in perception occurs when we wrongly DO expect unlikely events to happen more often than they do. 

If you’re interested in evaluating your perception at this, take a break from reading this column and find a copy of Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address (easily found online). The address has 268 words of various lengths. Pick out a sample of ten words that you think is representative of the entire collection. Then continue reading below. 

Do you have your ten words? How well did you sample?  Here are a couple ways to check: i) four of your words should be 3 letters or less. ii) six of them should be 4 letters or less, iii) the total number of letters in your ten words should be about 43.  I bet you didn’t have enough small words. Instead, your eye was drawn to the exceptions – the longer words. Am I correct? 

If so, then you, like the rest of us, focus on the exceptions – in this case the longer words. These noteworthy occurrences catch our attention and we mistakenly think they happen more often than they do.  And this tendency to think that the exceptional rare event will happen to us can have negative consequences. 

As a preteen and young teenager, I rode my bicycle all around town – exploring streams and railroad bridges, cemeteries and vacant lots. Only rule: be home in time for supper. My mom, who had no trouble worrying about colds and germs and wet hair, wasn’t concerned about me being abducted. What has changed over the years? Why aren’t there scores of young kids biking all around Holland? Have parents focused on the exceptions – those very rare but well-publicized cases around the country when a child is abducted? Look at the cost – the loss of “Tom Sawyer” adventures for millions.  (I keep an empty lot behind my house “wild” to allow neighborhood children a place to explore and have fun in a non-manicured setting.) Similarly, rare-but-publicized shark attacks keep beach goers from enjoyable vacations. 

This tendency to focus on the exception also contributes to why people are suckers for the lottery. We see via the media those rare lucky ones who win a jackpot and imagine it happening to us, but don’t see the millions who – over the space of a year - could have bought themselves tickets to a favorite event with the money. 

Loss of money and opportunity is bad enough,  but Hope psychology professor, David Myers, realized this tendency can have even more serious consequences. After the terrorist attack of 9/11, he predicted 800 more traffic deaths the following year as people flew less and drove more.  For although not as spectacular and news-making, the probability of death from car travel greatly exceeds that from flying. He was wrong. The difference was 1500. 

Walking in Another's Moccasins

HS #55 2020.2.13

Walking in Another’s Moccasins 

When I came to Holland thirty years ago, I taught and was a resident hall director (RD) at Hope College. An RD friend, Kama, occasionally pointed out the “male dominated” world in which we lived. I wasn’t convinced. Thought she was being overly sensitive. Then we went to a talk on feminism. The speaker, needing a personal pronoun, used “her” rather than “him.” That was fine. Then needed one again and again used, “her.” Well, OK. Then a third time, and used “her” yet again. I remember thinking, “Hey, I’m here too.” Yeouzza – mission accomplished. I had just gotten a tiny taste of what it is like for females to live in a male dominated world. 

Later that year, the RDs attended a workshop on self-defense. The speaker divided the blackboard down the middle and asked us men, “What do you do to protect yourself when you come out of Meijer at night?” We looked at each other in puzzlement. What was he talking about? Then he asked the women the same question and we watched in amazement as he filled up their side of the board with their replies: “Look under and around my car.” “Carry my keys between my knuckles.” “Have my finger on the mace.” “Stay with a friend.” Another life-changing moment as I realized that I lived in a totally different world than the women. 

Fast forward to 2008. Hope College shut down campus for a couple days due to the norovirus. Without a computer at home and needing to get work done, I took advantage of the computers in the library of Western Theological Seminary. Going home for lunch, I returned to a sign on their door, “Off limits to Hope College students and staff.” Made sense. Couldn’t blame them. But suddenly the Bible stories of unclean lepers took on new meaning. 

I’m still learning such lessons. Last year a black Davenport University student friend and I were eating pizza at Subs & More on 8^th Street when he mentioned we live in two different worlds. I asked him to explain. He said, “Well, if you went to the counter and told them something was wrong with your pizza, they would apologize and fix you another piece. If I complained, they would think I was trying to cheat them.” 

Interestingly, I got my greatest “aha” moment regarding blacks in America recently while listening to an NPR story on the Berlin Wall. Without intending it, the Allied forces of WWII conducted a scientific experiment when they randomly split Berlin in two. The city had been totally homogeneous: same ethnicity, religion, history, education, family names - same everything. Then it was suddenly split in two and subjected to different political systems for twenty-eight years – effectively one generation. Now, thirty years later, what’s the result after a concerted effort of reunification? Surprisingly, former East Germans complain of feeling like second-class citizens. Indeed, there are eighty institutions of higher education throughout Germany and not one of them has a president from former East Germany. 

If a homogeneous population can be turned into “haves” and “have nots” after just one generation and that condition persists after thirty years of a full-fledged attempt at establishing equity, is it any wonder that two hundred years of slavery followed by years of abuse leave blacks in the U.S. in a decidedly disadvantaged situation. 

Bottom line: these examples show the need for thoughtful understanding and empathy.  

They also show the wisdom of Supreme Court Chief Justice John Roberts’ advice in a high school commencement speech:  

“From time to time in the years to come, I hope you will be treated unfairly, so that you will come to know the value of justice. I hope that you will suffer betrayal because that will teach you the importance of loyalty.  I hope you will be lonely from time to time so that you don’t take friends for granted. I wish you bad luck from time to time so that you will be conscious of the role of chance in life and understand that your success is not completely deserved and the failure of others is not completely deserved either. I hope you’ll be ignored so you know the importance of listening to others, and I hope you will have just enough pain to learn compassion. Whether I wish these things or not, they’re going to happen. And whether you benefit from them or not will depend upon your ability to see the message in your misfortunes.” 

It's a Wonderful Life

HS #54 2020.1.9

It’s a Wonderful Life

Racquetball players are notorious for having excuses for their poor performance. Meeting Bob Sterken to play on Tuesday, December 10, I told him I felt really tired. Was a bit embarrassed by the lack of specificity. 

Later that evening, while walking to Central Ave CRC for the Zeeland performance of Handel's Messiah, I felt strange.  Not sick - just weak with a slight burning in my chest.  

I noticed it on and off for the next few days, but continued my routine of teaching, grading finals, wallyball, and lifting weights. On Friday, I sang the Lessons and Carols service with the Grand Rapids Choir of Men and Boys, visited my aunt in Grandville, and then home to bed.  Later I awoke with the same strange burning feeling in my chest and left arm - just a bit more intense. 

Figuring, "No reason for it to have gotten worse," a Google search confirmed a possible heart problem.  I considered going back to sleep and dealing with it in the morning, but instead drove myself to Holland Hospital where Brian Yurk, my friend and former Hope colleague, joined me.   Within the hour, I went into cardiac arrest – twice, requiring defibrillation both times. When I regained consciousness, I learned the sobering truth that had I remained in bed, I would not have left it. 

At Spectrum’s Heart Center the decision was confirmed that I needed bypass surgery. Discovering that the surgeon was the son and the brother of old friends, I listened in calm confidence as he explained that the two available openings were either the following day (sooner than ideal) or the following week (later than ideal) – increasing the surgical risk as much as tenfold. 

The pre-surgical physician’s assistant, upon learning that I am a former Hope College professor, explained they would be spending the evening with the family of her good Hope College friend, Ryan Weaver. What?! Ryan, my former research student and close friend? He is my medical power of attorney. 

So Ryan and Brian waited with my sister until the surgeon arrived and reported that the outcome of the quadruple bypass was the very best possible. Later, when my aunt and cousin came to visit, my aunt asked if I was satisfied with the outcome given the heighted risk. Groggy, I was searching for the evidence for why I was very satisfied. My cousin, a no-nonsense junior high science teacher found it, “He’s alive, isn’t he?!”

I came home in time to enjoy Christmas with my sister and her corgis. Neighbors and friends from church, Hope College, Davenport University, and various choirs are stopping by, sleeping over, bringing food, and making me feel very loved. 

A risky way to have done it, but how many get a spontaneous “It’s a Wonderful Life” experience – learning, as a near-death experience offers, of the impact they’ve made in others’ lives?  How many, like George Bailey, get to see how one’s network of friends almost magically pulls together?  Just as Bailey’s daughter played Christmas carols in the final scene, the children of the Pearsons and Edgingtons, along with their mothers, provided a Christmas eve concert filling my living room with violin harmonies. 

As his friends gathered to his aid, George’s brother raised his glass in a toast, “To my big brother George, the richest man in town.” I learned the same lesson. Better said, it was confirmed, since I never doubted it: Friendships are the rich stuff of life. Nothing else much matters. 

And perhaps that is why I found myself very much at peace throughout, regardless of the knife’s edge I was walking. Either result was fine. Why? Friendship exists only in the moment. 

I need to be careful here. If I had children and/or grandchildren in my life, I would heed Dylan Thomas’s admonition to his father, “Do not go gentle into that good night.” 

Also, I realize perhaps now more than before that friends (and, of course, family) would miss me. So death is certainly tough on those who remain.  

But from my own vantage point, I had nothing to fear. The best reason for living exists only in the moment. Friendship doesn’t accumulate in the future. It cannot be saved or spent. It lives only in the ever-present “now.” I hadn’t considered that before. 

 But perhaps one of the young violinists did understand and expressed it simply in his bedtime prayer. "We know Tim has to die sometime, but hopefully not quite yet."