Turning Corners

Well the education essay is up over on the Educore blog. I posted it here first and it just seemed too cumbersome. Besides, it reads better on the white background.

Once I got a manageable outline going that wasn't getting itself tied up in metaphysical knots, the essay came together without too much trouble. It was a good experience, but all the same I'm glad to be finished. Time to move on - after catching my breath, of course.

There's a lot happening. I don't have nearly enough time at present for all the writing I want to do. For now, I'll leave you with some lyrics I wrote some time ago about pressing on through rough seas. Once again, it's time to trust.

Bracing for the windstorm
Huddled in the prow
Looking for the eye of the hurricane

The times I've felt afraid -
Made a golden cow
I wish that there was someone else to blame

But the truth remains
The voyage must go on
Come sun or come rain
The voyage must go on
Calm or distressed
The voyage must go on
Broken or blessed
The voyage must go on

Life is turning corners
Keeping up is hard
And freedom gnaws at my security

Walking on the water
Walking on the shore
It's all the same when you are serving me

And the truth remains
The voyage must go on
Glory or shame
The voyage must go on
Calm or distressed
The voyage must go on
Broken or blessed
The voyage must go on

Can you still a raging sea?
Can your peace reign over me?
Can I put my fingers into the holes in your hands?

'Cause the truth remains
The voyage must go on
Beauty or pain
The voyage must go on
Calm or distressed
The voyage must go on
Broken or blessed
The voyage must go on

Image courtesy of gac.culture.gov.uk

The Hazards of Looking at the Moon

"And God made two great lights; the greater light to rule the day, and the lesser light to rule the night." - Genesis 1:16

Everyone knows that the moon is not really luminous in its own right. God could have made it that way, but He didn't. He chose to create instead an exotic dance of light, reflection, and shadow, probably just because He is God and got a kick out of it. Maybe it is more energy efficient - I don't know. What is curious to me is how we earthlings, from some primal instinct, still treat the moon as a light in its own right. There's a science-defying romantic in each of us, especially when caught off guard on a midsummer's night.

Gazing at the moon this evening from our driveway, with the wide night all around me, I suddenly felt very vulnerable, as if gravity might at any moment lose its grip on me and let me slide off into the empty sky. It was a rather disconcerting sensation, and it made me want to stretch out on my stomach, find a crack in the concrete to hold on to, and hang on for dear life, forever and ever.

Here we are, helplessly suspended in the midst of a boundless void, riding on this "the third rock from the sun." We've mapped out our tidy little solar system pretty well, but for all we know we haven't even gotten out of the neighborhood. I read just recently that our telescope-savvy friends have discovered a massive "hole" in the universe, a billion light years across, with no stars, galaxies, or other twinkly stuff.

Color me small.

Image courtesy of noao.edu

Blogging in the Fast Lane

It's been an action-packed week up here in Redding. Used bookstores, roof framing, pizza, kayaking, late-night theological discussions, backpacking, and more. Lots of fun.

I've barely had time to get my starring done in Google Reader, let alone do any writing that is halfway intelligent. When life gets faster, blogging gets slower: that's just how it goes. It looks like I'll need to cut this short update even shorter - it's time to go to work!

Off to Redding

By the time you read this, I'll be on my way up north to spend a few weeks with some good friends in Redding. We'll be doing some construction, some backpacking, and generally hanging out and having a good time.

I hope to continue posting during this time, but when you're traveling, all bets are off. I've toyed with the idea of taking a sort of cyber-siesta, but as of right now there's still too much interesting stuff to talk about. (Sorry - you're not getting off that easy.)

In any case, posting will almost certainly be lighter than usual over the next couple of weeks, so you can look forward to at least a partial reprieve. Silence can be good. In small amounts.

Be God's - and do the Kingdom!

The Problem of Pain

The problem of pain is one of the greatest theological questions the Church has ever faced. Why does an all-wise, all-loving God allow so much suffering? Why is nature so ruthless? Why does man commit and get away with such unspeakable atrocities?

For many people, these questions are disturbing enough to prevent them from embracing Christianity. The real issue, I'm afraid, is not the Christian view of the problem of pain, but rather the hypocrisy of Christians, and the unwillingness of Christians to face the question squarely.

There are two things we can do to remedy this situation. Firstly, we need an intellectually defensible approach to the problem, which is where books such as Lewis's can be of great help. Secondly, we must cultivate a respect and sensitivity towards the suffering of others that will accurately reflect the love of God and protect us from the common error of acting as Job's comforters - spouting off answers without having understood the question.


The Problem of Pain is Lewis's classic treatise on the subject. He begins by establishing the omnipotence and goodness of God: Divine logic and Divine love. He then adds a couple chapters about the fall of man and his subsequent state of wickedness. At this point, the stage is set for a knock-down-drag-out examination of human pain, animal pain, and hell - an ambitious programme for 73 pages.

The problem of pain is closely related to the question of human free will, because without free will, God suddenly has a lot to answer for. One of the main reasons why Greg Boyd's explanations for evil and suffering in Letters From a Skeptic are so reasonable and satisfying is that he is working from the premise of human freedom. Lewis's reasoning follows the same line. Man falls - God forgives. Man sins - God sacrifices. Man hurts - God heals.

Pain is not merely a random cosmic response to sin, it is a precision instrument used by God to bring about restoration and healing. God is not a sadist - He is a surgeon. The cancer of sin runs deep, and it must be thoroughly removed. This is only accomplished through pain. "The harvester is near / His blade is on your skin / to plant a new beginning / well then let the cut begin" (-Sixpence None the Richer)

Lewis handles this issue head-on, while at the same time avoiding careless callousness or invincible stoicism. He's dealing with difficult, tender stuff, and he knows it. As he says on page 105, "I am not arguing that pain is not painful. Pain hurts. That is what the word means. I am only trying to show that the old Christian doctrine of being made 'perfect through suffering' is not incredible. To prove it palatable is beyond my design."

For some, the problem of pain is more about others than themselves. It is easy to be overwhelmed by Darfur, or Iraq, or North Korea. Lewis touches on this several times, in one place providing some refreshing perspective on a humanitarian catch-phrase still common today: "the unimaginable sum of human misery."

We must never make the problem of pain worse than it is by vague talk about the 'unimaginable sum of human misery'... There is no such thing as a sum of suffering, for no one suffers it. When we have reached the maximum that a single person can suffer, we have, no doubt, reached something very horrible, but we have reached all the suffering there ever can be in the universe.

-p. 116-117

***

As Lewis demonstrates in The Great Divorce, the problem of Hell is basically a problem of Self. The fundamental question that every man faces is whether to stubbornly assert his own will, or willingly yield to God's. This is a choice. God will coax, but not force, the right decision. "They wanted, as we say, to 'call their souls their own.' But that means to live a lie, for our souls are not, in fact, our own. They wanted some corner in the universe of which they could say to God, 'This is our business, not yours.' But there is no such corner." -p. 75

For those who insist on living this lie, God has only one option. Notice how God's response is described in Romans 1: it does not say He punishes the wicked, it says He "gives them up" to their own wickedness, ultimately leading to eternal separation from God, which is exactly what they wanted all along.

The damned are, in a sense, successful, rebels to the end; [..] the doors of hell are locked on the inside. I do not mean that the ghosts may not wish to come out of hell, in the vague fashion wherein an envious man 'wishes' to be happy: but they certainly do not will even the first preliminary stages of that self-abandonment through which alone the soul can reach any good. They enjoy forever the horrible freedom they have demanded, and are therefore self-enslaved: just as the blessed, forever submitting to obedience, become through all eternity more and more free.

In the long run the answer to all those who object to the doctrine of hell, is itself a question: 'What are you asking God to do?' To wipe out their past sins and, at all costs, to give them a fresh start, smoothing every difficulty and offering every miraculous help? But He has done so, on Calvary. To forgive them? They will not be forgiven. To leave them alone? Alas, I am afraid that is what He does.

-p. 130

God has given man his "corner."

***

G. K. Chesterton, in his jovial, slightly bucolic style, once turned the problem of pain on its head by asking that we consider instead the problem of pleasure. One could argue that this was an easy thing to say for a man who was plump, carefree, and happily married, but I believe he had a point. Reality contains both pleasure and pain, and any worldview worth its salt must account for both. If we must find someone to blame for suffering, must we not also find someone to thank for joy? It would certainly seem so - if we have any manners left at all.

The problem of pain ought therefore to point us in a positive direction, the way hot sand makes you run faster towards the cool water. Why does suffering make us feel so strongly that something is horribly wrong? Why do we expect health and happiness from life - not necessarily as our right - but as right? Turn to page 14: "Pain would be no problem unless, side by side with our daily experience of this painful world, we had received what we think a good assurance that ultimate reality is righteous and loving."

If all is not right with the world, it means there is such a thing as the world being right. And if the promises of God mean anything - and I for my part am inclined to think that they do - we have good reason to believe that someday the world will return to that happy state.

And that may be an encouraging thought.


[All quotations from C. S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain, HarperCollins, New York, 1996]

Image courtesy of images.amazon.com

The EduCore Project (4)

I am currently in the process of writing my essay for Trinity Foundation. It is proving difficult work - definitely a different kind of writing than I am used to. (You thought Sojourner's Song was formal? Ha!) For me, writing formally is like playing classical piano - I'll get through it eventually, but it's a stretch.

I've read a lot about education in the last few months. (Along the way, I got to read Plato and Aristotle for the first time, which is a rather embarrassing confession for someone who claims to take a serious interest in philosophy.) There is, it seems to me, intrinsic value in familiarizing yourself with your subject's significant historic writings. I do not quite agree with Rousseau when he wrote that "All minds start from the same point, and the time spent in learning what others think is so much time lost for learning to think for ourselves." This idea has a certain ring of nobility to it, but is it not at heart the classic mistake of reinventing the wheel? Are we to deny ourselves the advantage of building on the previous work of those who have gone before? I think not, as this would tend to undermine the very idea of education itself. As Aristotle said, "If anything has been said well in detail by earlier thinkers, let us try to review it." John Stuart Mill further embellishes this thought: "These great thinkers are not read passively, as masters to be followed, but actively, as supplying materials and incentives to thought." It is quite reasonable to say that we think for ourselves about what others think, and that in doing so our thought processes are developed faster and more efficiently.

My knowledge of Latin is poorer than my knowledge of spider species or Russian Czars, and this has proven to be a considerable handicap. Many authors will enthusiastically launch into a lengthy Latin quotation, which no doubt contributes profound depth to the current topic, but which for me is of course completely unintelligible. It seems at least a rudimentary course in Latin may be in order sometime in the future.

So far, my favorite educational writer is easily Alfred North Whitehead. His ideas are brilliant and his writing is like deep breaths of clean air. I also enjoyed reading John Locke, John Holt, and Aristotle, and, to a lesser degree, John Stuart Mill and John Dewey. (It almost seems that having the name John is a requirement if you want to write about education.) Some of the other authors have been - shall we say - less than enjoyable.

Transitioning from studying to writing was a challenge. Any serious research not only involves organizing an unwieldy mass of material, it also involves coming up with something to say about it. It is an ongoing process of categorization, contemplation, and review. As John Dewey wrote: "Keeping track is a matter of reflective review and summarizing, in which there is both discrimination and record of the significant features of a developing experience. To reflect is to look back over what has been done so as to extract the net meanings which are the capital stock for intelligent dealing with further experiences. It is the heart of intellectual organization and of the disciplined mind." (- John Dewey, Experience and Education)

This brings up something else I have been thinking about - an idea which I am calling "the connectedness of knowing." It is one thing to cram your mind full of information, it is something else to map out its relationships. I believe this is an important skill to develop if one wants to reliably recall ideas, discussions, and specific quotes that are relevant to the subject at hand, whatever that subject may happen to be. The reason this is important relates to how the mind works. Mental organization is categorical, like a kitchen, not alphabetical, like a filing cabinet. Information that is effectively retained, then, is information that is stored in the right place and attached to something else.

At this point, my capacity for retention is still rather limited. The best strategy for developing reliable powers of recollection is to establish topical mental outlines and then fill in the details incrementally. I have been trying to swallow both the outline and the details whole, as a single mass. I suppose it should come as no surprise then that I am unable to keep it all down.

It feels good to be rounding the final lap. "Better is the end of a thing than its beginning," for sure.

And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time
-T.S. Eliot

Trees and Trails

This week I had the opportunity to work with some very knowledgeable, hard-working guys, clearing trail in the Ansel Adams Wilderness. I've hiked through this area several times, but I've never had the chance to go behind the scenes and see firsthand what it takes to keep these trails open. I sawed.

I met John Glenn (left) two and a half years ago when David and I were undergoing training to join the Madera County Search & Rescue team. John is an incredibly personable guy and we developed an instant rapport. He's an excellent teacher, and his knowledge of the wild is inexhaustible. John volunteers with trail crews all over the country, and has done just about everything from climbing and cutting trees to blasting granite with dynamite.

Michael Olwyler (right) is the Wilderness Manager for the Ansel Adams Wilderness. He has a genuine passion for the wild and works hard to keep it clean and safe for visitors. He's also an avid photographer, often seen with his CANON 20D around his neck.

Thunderstorms were forecasted for the week, and I was looking forward to getting into some weather. (For all my time in the backcountry, I've never experienced a proper storm.) To my keen disappointment, the storms never materialized - not even so much as a distant rumble. Maybe next time.

Within the first 20 minutes, we came to our first log. We unslung our packs, assembled the saw, and commenced the ancient battle between tree and trail. This drill would be repeated several dozen times over the next few days, as we worked the 7 miles between the trailhead and the Inyo border.

As we hiked, John and Michael pointed out landmarks and filled me in on some of the history associated with different sections of the trail. We passed "Winston's Corner" - a shady, S-shaped switchback on the west slope of the gorge - where a stubborn mule named Winston had caused an infamous mule wreck years ago. It was a treat to learn some of the legends, lore, and legacy of the wilderness from men who have walked these trails for decades.

This is Mikey, trying out the trail through a freshly cleared tree. On a trip like this, it's really nice to have a packer bring most of the gear in on mules. John Baker managed this end of the expedition for us, with the help of another lady. They rode in on horseback, leading two pack mules each. John G., Michael, and I just carried day packs and our tools; all of our camping gear was on the mules.

Bringing in mules allowed us to set up a bonafide camp at 77 Corral, and also to eat rather well. Dinner Tuesday night was grilled pork chops, corn on the cob, and salad. Definitely beats a cup-a-soup.

The largest log we tackled was a 43" Red Fir several miles beyond camp. (Most of the logs were smaller - 18 to 24 inches, with a few 30-inchers.) After getting the cut started, it's important to drive plastic wedges into the kerf as soon as possible to prevent the weight of the tree from binding the saw. As the cut progresses, more wedges are added, and the previous wedges are driven deeper. John expertly analyzed each log to determine where it was likely to bind, where we should roll it, and how we should angle our cuts. There's a lot more to it than just pushing a saw back and forth.



Not all logs required cutting. Depending on the size of the log and the lay of the surrounding terrain, some can simply be rolled out of the way. Using a combination of log levers, log pivots, log ramps, and brute strength, we successfully rolled trees that looked impossible. It's pretty exhilarating to get everyone pushing and see an enormous log go crashing off the trail.

John's bucking saw - "Zina" - was a pleasure to use. This tool was the kingpin of the whole expedition. Cutting green wood on Thursday morning, the saw was throwing 5" chips out its greedy gullets, spraying them at my safety glasses. John carried it all day slung across his shoulder, and treated it with something akin to reverence. By the third day, it was easy to understand why.

I'm used to hiking, and I'm used to working, but it was a whole new experience for me to combine the two. I heartily enjoyed both the physical challenge of doing the work and the mental challenge of understanding the techniques and working efficiently as a team. Perhaps the most rewarding thing was the sense of ownership that comes with trading your hiking poles for a shovel and ax. As a caretaker with invested sweat equity, one feels connected to the wilderness in a completely new way.

Raising the Bar

My search for the perfect energy bar was beginning to feel like the proverbial search for the end of the rainbow - elusive, exhausting, and a wee bit frustrating. I'd tried them all - from brick-hard PowerBars in the cold of the early morning, to dense and dry Clif Bars that ought to be repackaged as horse feed, to the ubiquitous and rather unremarkable Oats'n'Honey Nature Valley.

Enter Larabar.

I ate my first Larabar wearing a pair of snowshoes atop Shuteye Peak. It was love at first bite. I immediately sensed that these folks had created a killer bar that met the rigorous demands of the serious outdoorsman, given here in order of importance:

1. Tasty. This is where most other bar companies drop the ball: the darn thing needs to taste good. I don't really care about antioxidants and bioflavinoids and complex carbohydrates if I can barely even eat the bar in the first place.
2. Caloric. Outdoorsmen hoard calories like misers hoard money; no "low-calorie" milkshakes here. When you're putting in a long day of hiking, you're counting calories by the thousand - especially if it's cold. Most Larabars pack over 200 calories, which is excellent for their size.
3. Tough. Too many bars are fine on a grocery store shelf at 72º, but quickly turn into gooey disasters or handfuls of granola on the trail. It's important that a bar be able to take heat and abuse in pockets and backpacks, and Larabars pass this test with flying colors.
4. Lightweight. This point is really just another angle on point #2, as lightweight basically means a good calorie-to-ounce ratio. Most commercially available foods average around 100 calories per ounce; for backpacking, I try and avoid anything lower than that. Larabars have up to 129 calories per ounce. Incredible.
5. Natural. Too many energy bar labels remind me of chemistry class. Not Larabars. The ingredients in the Cherry Pie bar are as follows: unsweetened cherries, dates, and almonds. It just doesn't get much simpler than that. I appreciate Larabar's commitment to real, raw food, and I also appreciate their common-sense approach to the "Organic" issue:

   We'll consider using organic ingredients at the point that suppliers can meet both our quality and volume standards consistently, which, to date, has not been possible.

   For you and me, as consumers, that means a reasonably-priced, quality bar. (For some, I'm sure point #5 would be higher on the list. It's important to me as well, but I think it is rather overrated most of the time.)

Lots of good, wholesome companies like this get famous and then start to deteriorate. I hope that doesn't happen here. Larabar, you guys have an awesome product. Keep humming!