The Wisdom of Jesus

HS #10  2016.5.3

The Wisdom of Jesus

Recently I was privy to a situation where a friend who was hurt by another took the initiative to write to the other to explain the hurt. This resulted in an apology that brought full healing.

When I heard of the outcome, I wrote, “This shows the value of Jesus's instructions - that it is the responsibility of the HURT person  (not the offender) to initiate the correspondence.  If everyone followed this advice, there would be more honest and wholesome relationships – and less needless introspection.”

That incident illustrates the wisdom in Jesus’s counterintuitive counsel for good living. I say “counterintuitive” because at first thought, we think the opposite is true. Jesus steered clear from teaching what “we think is true” or what “should be true.” He got to the heart of what IS true.  He effectively said – over and over again: “Hey folks, this is the way the world really is - you’ll do well to realize it and live accordingly.”

Here are some other examples - all counterintuitive at first blush, but upon reflection and practice, found to be true.

“Store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, for where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.”  Normally don’t we tend to hear the converse? A typical lesson might go, “Get your heart in the right place, and then you will do the right things – your actions follow your heart.” Jesus is claiming just the opposite: Concentrate on your actions - something you have control of – and don’t sweat the heart  - it will follow. Liberating! And powerful! Jesus wasn’t unconcerned with the heart. He just understood human nature enough to realize that the heart follows actions as much as guides them.  Indeed, even the physical act of smiling can uplift your mood.

In a previous column I’ve addressed the counterintuitive nature of Jesus’s command to “turn the other cheek” not in order to submit to authority, but for precisely the opposite reason, in order to keep control and keep one’s dignity. Again, counterintuitive.

Another? Consider the parable of the lost coin and sheep. Logic would suggest that a shepherd with 99 safe sheep would stay with them and accept his losses of an errant lamb. Similarly, why would a person spend all day hunting for a rather insignificant object? Neither make sense, but, darn it!, that’s what I do all the time. If I’m missing a spoon or favorite sock, I keep looking until I find it.  Suspect you behave similarly. Jesus understood, and used that behavior to illustrate a point.

The gospel writer arranged the “lost” parables saving the best to last. Consider the lost son. Here is an ungrateful kid who deliberately turns his back on the good life that his father intended to share with him. After blowing all his money and totally messed up, he realizes that his father’s servants fare better. So he heads back home.

All of this is understandable. People blow it. They come to their senses. The young kid was looking out for himself from first to last. That’s natural. The father’s reaction, though, is the kicker.  He had many options:  His son had just rejected him, wasted his entire share of the inheritance, and was coming home only to put food in his belly.   A “Good riddance!”  would have been fully understandable.  But a second reaction is equally sensible: “Glad to have you back – we’ve been shorthanded with the animals since you left. Get out there - - you’ll have a meal awaiting you at dinner and a fair wage.” This is what the son expected and would have been fully satisfied with.

The father gives neither of those a thought. Instead, he calls for a feast, puts a robe on his son and leads him back home.  As others have noted, this is not a story about a wayward son, but about a loving father.  Powerful!  Jesus was calling attention to the very best in human nature.  

Recently I was invited to be a guest “devil’s advocate” in an apologetics class of a local college. My role (which comes rather naturally) was to challenge the students about the truth of Christian claims. When I asked why they believed Jesus was divine, they pointed to fulfilled prophecy, miracles, and the resurrection. Personally, none of that counts for much; human reporting even of current events is often unreliable. However, the power and wisdom of Jesus’s words - that gets me thinking.

Morals: Absolute or mere convention?

HS #9   2016.4.5

Morals:  Absolute or mere convention?

I sometimes relax in the evening by watching old episodes of “The Rifleman.” (The theme tune is great!)  Recently I watched one about a young incorrigible boy – disobedient and disrespectful. Everyone else having failed to control him, the woman bartender in town agrees to provide him a home.  When the boy mouths off to her, she belts him across the face sending him sprawling. The subsequent lecture, “You will not speak that way to a woman!” is the turning point in the boy’s behavior and the climax of the story.

How interesting. Back in the 1960’s when that show first aired, the actions of the bartender were likely heralded as a model of discipline and virtue. Today, the show wouldn’t even appear. If it did, it would cause controversy and probably make the news for promoting child abuse.  How is it that our moral sensibilities have changed so much in fifty years?

Also about fifty years ago I remember two women of my church in rural Minnesota discussing how communist USSR forced families to send their young children to state-run daycare centers while the women worked, rather than devote all of their time to caring for their children. These Midwest women were aghast, and wondered if children so raised would grow into well adjusted adults.

Again, how interesting that twenty years after that conversation, childcare was part of everyday family life in the United States – brought on not by governmental dictum, but by economic reality. Again, our moral sensibility has changed significantly.

Notice that these two examples go in opposite directions. The first was accepted in 1960, but not today. The latter is embraced today, but was not tolerated fifty years ago. This seems to suggest that our collective sense of right and wrong is neither progressing nor regressing; instead our moral code is just in flux.

If morals are like tastes, fashions, or customs, this would be expected. (Presently no interest in bell-bottoms or pink bathroom fixtures.)  But if morals are tied to absolutes, then it is puzzling.  Why do they change? This raises the question: Are some of our present moral sensibilities tied to absolutes, while others are mere convention? If so, which are which?

Mathematics provides a nice analogy.  Can you divide this many objects # # # # # # into equal-sized groups (of more than one)? Surely.  ###   ###  is one way.   ##    ##   ##  is another.   Try the same with this group:  # # # # # # #.    We use the word “seven” to denote that number, and since seven objects can’t be evenly divided up, seven is called a prime number. The fact that seven is prime does not depend on opinion or culture or even human awareness.  Before conscious life even existed, it was already a true fact – an absolute.

Contrast that with the “fact” that we use these symbols to count: 0, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9.  That is, a collection with this many # # is labeled “2” and a collection with this many # # # # #  is labeled “5”.  Well and good. But why when we get to  # # # # # # # # # # do we not use yet another unique symbol (such as $) rather than use two of the previous symbols “10” ?   Answer: We use ten symbols to form all numbers  because we happen to have ten fingers.  If, like the TV cartoon Simpsons family, we had just four digits on each hand, we would use eight symbols to count.

  So although it feels like an absolute, using ten symbols to express our numbers is mere convention. Indeed, we could use any number of symbols, and, in fact, computer programmers must write numbers using just two symbols, since electrical switches are either “on” or “off.”

These examples aside, mathematicians often disagree as to which parts of mathematics are convention and which are absolute. So then how do we judge human behavior, which is much richer, more complex, and certainly less clear-cut than mathematics? Can we distinguish moral conventions from moral absolutes?  As culture evolves, how do we determine what moral principles stay steadfast, and which are dynamic? What if, for example, a future generation focusing on quality of life approves death with dignity or condemns the use of factory farms?  Should we embrace or resist such changes in our moral sensibilities? All good questions to ponder.

Luck or God's Providence: How should we interpret our lives?

HS #8  2016.3.1

Last month after the Super Bowl. Peyton Manning, the winning quarterback, remarked that he would spend the evening drinking Budweiser and thanking the Man upstairs. Possibly he was referring to the team’s owner in the skybox, but I’m guessing he was expressing gratitude for divine support.

 Manning was feeling great - - and feeling thankful. After a long, tough season, he had won the ultimate reward. He, likely with every other NFL quarterback, had prayed for such an end to his season. So it made sense why Peyton expressed gratitude to God for the victory.

My friend and former colleague, Don Cronkite, professor emeritus of the Hope College Biology Department, once had a student tell him that he, having forgotten a needed formula while taking a physics test, had prayed for help, and that God had obliged by reminding him of the formula. Don, his tongue firmly in cheek, had suggested that the student should admit to the physics professor that he had cheated. “After all,” Cronkite reasoned,  “if a person had given you the formula, it would have been cheating.”  The student was not phased, “I figured that if God wanted to cheat, who was I to argue.”

Does prayer work the way this student and Manning suppose?

Consider this thought experiment: Suppose 1000 students of a college are each given a penny to flip. Those who land a Tail sit down – roughly half of them. Those who get a Head flip again, and again about half of them who get a Tail sit down. They continue until one student remains standing - probably after about ten flips. That   remaining student gets free tuition for a year.

I used to give that example to my senior seminar students at Hope College and ask what would be their response if they were the winner. Typically, the answer was similar to Peyton Manning - a prayer of thanks. From the winner’s point of view, something akin to a miracle would have taken place. After all, the odds were one in a thousand.

On the other hand, from the college’s point of view nothing remarkable had happened. After all, someone had to win. Did prayer make a difference?  Most students likely had offered a supplication for divine favor.

So whose perspective is correct? My father distinguished between providence and a miracle: Suppose when walking down a sidewalk that a bricklayer above drops a load of bricks. If the bricks fall all around with none hitting you, that’s providence. If a brick stops in midair above your head, slides over, and then falls – that’s a miracle.

So was the coin-flip prize the result of a miracle or at least God’s providential plan? Or are such things fully explained without such inference?

After all,  “rare events” happen all the time. A favorite party trick of mine is to leave the room and have everyone write down a random sequence of 25 H’s and T’s, while just one person actually flips a coin 25 times and records the Heads and Tails. I then return and identify which sequence came from the coin tosser.  It’s easy - - it’s the sequence with the longest uninterrupted string of Heads (or Tails).  Moral: Unlikely things are rather likely.

Several years back I was entertaining friends for dessert - a surgeon and his wife.  Our conversation ranged among myriad topics involving science and theology. On most of them the couple agreed. But when she mentioned the miracles of healing, he dissented,  “We don’t know 5% of what goes on in the human body.” He was not denying the possibility of supernatural involvement. He was just pointing out that his wife was jumping to a conclusion that he would not make.

So what is the answer?  Are uncommon happenings the result of miracles/providence, or are they just blind luck?

Maybe C.S. Lewis provides the best perspective. In an insightful essay (easily found online), “Meditation in a Toolshed”, Lewis describes being in a dark shed, with only a single crack to let light in. One could stand to the side and observe the beam, or  position oneself to look through the crack at the outside world. Two totally different experiences depending on one’s vantage point. Similarly, the conclusions one draws from experience also depends on the assumptions brought to that experience. Again, it all depends on the vantage point. As a former senior seminar student observed, “The mind believes what the heart desires.”

Wisdom Leads to Good Decisions and Good Living

HS #7  2016.2.2

A few years ago, a friend with obviously strong opinions concerning home décor was showing me around Grand Haven.  Passing a particular white brick house, she disclosed that it had been her former home. Originally a traditional red brick, she had decided to have it painted white. So she had hired a painter and showed him the shade that she had chosen.

However, the painter objected. He explained that after the paint dried on the brick, it would look different than she was imagining, so she really wanted a different shade. She was equally adamant that she knew what she wanted, and instructed him to use her choice.

With neither able to convince the other, the painter offered a compromise. He would use her choice of color, but if she didn’t like it, he’d be willing to repaint at no charge. She, of course, agreed to his generous offer.  So he painted the house and after letting it fully dry, he called her outside. “Now, is THAT what you wanted?”  “Yes – perfect - that is exactly what I wanted!”   “Great! - glad you like it - I painted it my color.”

That’s one of my favorite true stories – made all the better because the victim was telling it on herself.  But for the moment, I’d like to focus on the painter. He was a wise man.

Wisdom, it seems, includes two ingredients possessed by the painter:  cleverness and a deep understanding of human nature.  He had the cleverness to conceive a plan that he was confident would provide the best result, while still providing an “out” just in case.  But why did he disclose the truth?  The painter is endearing because he wasn’t going to leave without the satisfaction of letting his obstinate customer know that he had been right.  Cocky? Of course.   But also wise. He knew himself and the equally strong-willed homeowner well enough to realize that there would be no hard feelings, and that they would both enjoy telling the story.

These attributes of wisdom are found in others as well. I have heard (and a quick internet research supports) that two main Biblical characters are described as having wisdom.  Those familiar with Biblical literature likely know one of them to be Solomon – the third king of Israel who lived about 1000 BC during its glory days. The second lived 500 years later, after Israel had been defeated and led into captivity by the Babylonians.  The young captive Daniel and his friends were also described as possessing wisdom.

Notice that, like the painter, both of these men solved dilemmas with the combination of cleverness and understanding of human nature.

Solomon’s wisdom was marvelously revealed when he adjudicated a celebrated case involving two prostitutes who lived together.  When one of their newborn infants died, each claimed to be the mother of the survivor. Without neighbors or relatives who recognized the infant, one can imagine lower court judges trying unsuccessfully to ferret out the truth by calling witnesses who likely had paid little attention to the two women. Solomon’s cleverness of thought and deep understanding of human nature revealed the truth.  When he bluffed by ordering the surviving baby to be cut in two in order to be fair to both women, the true mother revealed herself by entreating that the child live – even if given to the other. Solomon’s command, “Give the child to it mother” gives me goose bumps. It was every bit as unexpected, yet – seen in retrospect – every bit as obvious as the painter’s solution.  What a story!

Daniel showed similar cleverness.  When he and his friends were instructed by the King to eat rich food for the sake of their health, Daniel was in a dilemma. He did not want to defile himself with the rich diet, but he fully appreciated the plight of his supervisor who would be killed if Daniel and his friends lost their youthful luster. So Daniel suggested a controlled experiment of ten days on vegetables for them.  After proving the truth of Michael Pollan’s counsel, “Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants.” Daniel and his friends were allowed to keep to their convictions.

So whether from one of these, or from my own mother who when asked by her competitive teenage son and daughter which of them had the better tan, replied, “Beth’s is more golden and even, and Tim’s is more dark and rugged,” we see that wisdom leads to good decisions and good living.

Bringing out the best in humanity

HS 2016.1.5

One of my favorite Far Side cartoons shows a seagull television reporter broadcasting the death of a fellow seagull lying in the foreground. In the background are the flaming remains of a jet crash – the result of the ill-fated seagull having gotten caught in one of its engines.

The humor of course comes because it reminds us that turnabout is fair play:  human deaths are rather insignificant to seagulls.

This cartoon also illustrates an important principle about our circles of concern. Speaking personally, I am most concerned about myself. Merely losing a glove can ruin my morning.  Next come family, close relatives and good friends. I’m not overly bothered if one loses a glove, but if sick, I want to know. Then come casual friends, co-workers, and neighbors, followed by those in my immediate community.  Continuing from there, fellow Americans generate more concern than those in other countries.  Finally, having a European ancestry, I am more interested in what is happening in Europe than in other parts of the world. 

Let me be clear that I’m not suggesting that this is either right or wrong. I’m just claiming that this is the way I seem to think, and I suspect that others are similar. Each person stands in the center of ever-increasing concentric circles of concern. The more closely related others are to us – genetically, geographically, occupationally, and otherwise, the more concern we show. Tragedies overseas certainly do not have the news value of ones nearby. 

Indeed, if we were not built that way, we would not live long.  A newborn baby knows only of its own needs and lets everyone within earshot know of them.  Given this natural tendency, children must be intentionally taught to develop concern for others.

These circles of concern are found in non-human animals as well.  Social animals such as prairie dogs, lions and honey bees will help their relatives, often in direct proportion to how genetically related they are.  For example, a prairie dog that sees a hawk will warn the others by barking, even though doing so draws attention to itself.  Similarly, it may be that our tendency to care for those closely related to us is genetically hardwired in us.

But humans also have a moral consciousness that other animals do not seem to have. This enables us to rise above our mere animal nature and broaden our circle of care to include more people.  Essentially, how do we answer, “Who is my neighbor?”  As I write this, ABC News is broadcasting the story of a young black man who is donating his kidney to a middle-aged white man he does not know in another part of the country.  Why?  What compels some of us to make such sacrifices?

Religion may be one factor.  Religion is certainly a mixed bag because it tends to group and partition people and that plays into our predisposition to focus only on those close to us.  However, in a recent conversation with a Chinese student, I asked what differences she found between her country and the U.S.  She said that people were pretty similar overall, but she was surprised by some she had met in West Michigan who voluntarily gave up their good lives here to live in tough conditions around the world ministering to others.  Such people often come from churches.

 Good leaders and role models can also serve to bring out the best in us.  One important role of our political leaders is to challenge us to be better people.  FDR reminded us that we had nothing to fear but fear itself. Kennedy challenged us to “Ask not what your country can do for you. Ask what you can do for your country.”  More recently GHW Bush spoke of a“Thousand Points of Light.”  His son spoke of “compassionate conservatism” while our current president encouraged us not to be divided as blue states and red states, but to work together.

Likely, the success of these leaders in bringing out our best fell far short of their aspirations.  But their intention to help us look beyond ourselves was a reflection of their own good character. They were all following the example and advice of Abraham Lincoln who implored a divided county to live by the “better angels of our nature”.

Friends, having an expansive view of “neighbor” does not come naturally or easily.  Therefore, looking to the future, I hope for leaders who will encourage us to live by the better angels of our nature.