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Fundamentalism and Democracy

This is from about a year ago, but it is very much worth the time it takes to watch it. And anyone who watches this and is not terrified on some level…

At the heart of this, Jeremiah Jennings (who goes by the name Prophet of Zod on social media) points out that functioning society involves discussing disagreements with people while holding a few assumptions in mind:

He then goes on to point out, very convincingly, how fundamentalist Christianity doubts or even outright disputes each of these claims. The implications this civic breakdown has for democracy are frightening.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0lqaqp5TwnU

Sleeping with the Sharks

E's Cub Scout pack had a special activity in Gatlinburg Tennessee this weekend: sleeping with the sharks at the aquarium. We went early Saturday afternoon and caught some amazing views on the way.

Once there, the Boy went go-carting, played some mini-golf, spent some time in an arcade, and tried mussels for the first time.

From there, we went to the aquarium. It was quite a unique opportunity for the kids, getting to spend a lot of time as the sole visitors in the whole complex.

This morning, we spent a little time in the aquarium before heading out for more mini-golf, some laser tag, and some lunch.

A busy weekend to say the least.

Lighthouse

In a scene in After Life,  Ricky Gervais's character Tony Johnson is in the car as his brother-in-law drives, and he's looking for music to play. He pulls out a CD, identifies the artist, and starts mocking his brother-in-law.

"Lighthouse Family?!?" he asks incredulously. He's tempted to throw the disc out the window as he does several others.

Immediately I think, "I've listened to them. Or at least I've heard of them." I hit "Pause" and sit staring at the screen. "Who was that group? How do I know them?" I wonder. I pull out my phone, load Spotify, search "Lighthouse Family," play the first song that appeared, and in an instant, I know something is about to change.

When you're close to tears remember
Someday it'll all be over
One day we're gonna get so high

The singer begins, accompanied by some light strings, a piano, and an organ.

"I've heard this, I think."

The second line begins and the bass and drums enter:

Though it's darker than December
What's ahead is a different color
One day we're gonna get so high.

"I've heard this! I know I've heard this -- countless times, it seems." But I can't place it. Then the pre-chorus begins:

And at
The end of the day remember the days
When we were close to the edge
And wonder how we made it through the night
The end of the day remember the way
We stayed so close till the end
We'll remember it was me and you

"This seems so very familiar!" But I still can't place where I'd heard it. It feels like hearing a line from a film, knowing I've seen the film, but not even being able to remember the scene, the title, the actor. I familiar void.

When the chorus enters, though, I know. I remember where I've heard this song. I remember why I've heard it so many times.

'Cause we are gonna be
Forever you and me
You will
Always keep me flying high
In the sky of love

"My God! It's that song!"

In 1997, just a year after I'd moved to Poland, this song had just been about everywhere. On the radio. Playing in passing cars. At bars. At discos (i.e., Polish discos -- dance places). Everywhere. And I always hated that song -- so saccharine. Admittedly, the guy's voice is gold, but the song itself? So empty. So vapid.

Yet I sit here listening to it, suddenly transported by a song I haven't heard in over twenty years, a song I have thankfully and mercifully forgotten in probably just as long, and I feel such a longing to go back to that time for just one evening, just one beer, just one song. This song. It's a song I hate and now, thanks to Ricky Gervais's After Life, I love in that syrupy way that only nostalgia can inspire.

20-Year-Old Landscape

Negotiation

Going over some words in class today that might be new to some students (it was my remedial class), I started asking kids questions about the words.

“What might you prioritize as a student?”

“Your work!” someone responded. If only, young man, if only.

“What might I make projections about as a teacher?”

“Grades.” Yes, and if only you knew the projections — no, you probably do.

“With whom might you negotiate?”

“Your parents.” Of course.

“I don’t negotiate with my parents,” says one boy. “I do what I want.”

Bravado or inadvertent succint social commentary?

Test Day

I swear, I've been teaching more than 20 years now, and I still cannot make a test for a gifted class that doesn't just decimate the confidence of a significant number of students.

"Mr. S, I felt so much better about this test than the last one!"

I went through the test before the kids took it today and made some modifications that I was sure would help.

I had a couple of questions that, if one read it carefully, actually answered a couple of other questions partially. I made sure every passage I asked detailed questions about had appeared in in-depth in-class discussion/analysis. And still, a significant number of students were very disappointed with their scores.

But "decimating the confidence of a significant number of students" is not the same as "a large number of failing grades." In fact, of 55 students who have taken it so far (several are absent for obvious 2022 reasons), only two failed outright. The curve, without any fiddling, looks quite acceptable:

Yet this type of curve is completely unacceptable to a group of high-achieving honors students. There will, no doubt, be requests for extra credit and the like.

(Side note: this marks post number 5,000. How ridiculous!)

Playing Cards

K has been teaching the Boy how to play tysiąc. He’s getting the idea, but in the end, he still prefers a good game of war.

Just like he played with Babcia:

Playing Cards

Barron’s Response

On Bishop Robert Barron's minstry's YouTube channel -- Word on Fire -- he had a conversation with staff member Brandon Vogt after Barron's interview with Alex O'Connor in which they promised to go a little deeper in the responses.

Vogt points out that Barron and O'Connor went back and forth for a long time on faith, and invited Barron to elucidate a little. Instead, he just gave the same analogy, changing it from getting to know his interlocutors to getting to one one's spouse:

The analogy which I think is very illuminating there I often use is come to know a person. So you're coming to know another human being. Of course, reason is involved all the time. I mean, reason understands all sorts of things, but there is a moment when that person, if you're coming to real intimacy with that person, reveals something about herself that you could not in principle know no matter how many google searches and how much analysis and how much how clever you. There's no way you'd get what's in that person's heart unless she chooses to reveal it, at which point you have to make a decision: do I believe it or not. Now is it credible what she's saying, and you might say, "Yeah it is because it's congruent with everything else I know about her." At the same time, is it reducible to what I know about her? No, otherwise it wouldn't be a revelation. So that's why it's a false dichotomy to say reason or faith. No, it's reason that has reached a kind of limit, but reason has opened a door. Reason has poised you for the self-manifestation of another.

Well, that's not just with God; that happens all the time. When two people are married and deeply in love, I'm sure you could point to those moments when [your wife] revealed something to you that you would never ever have known otherwise. You revealed something about yourself to her and then the two of you, because you're in love with each other, I imagine said, "Yeah, I believe that."

Now, can I reduce that to an argument? No, you never can. In a way it remains always mysterious to you yet your will, in that case, has commanded your intellect. That's exactly what Thomas Aquinas says about faith. It's a rare instance when the will commands the intellect. Normally, it moves the other way right? The intellect kind of leads the will. The intellect understands the good and then it leads the will, but in the case of faith, the will leads the intellect. It says, "No this is worthy of belief. This person who's speaking to me is worthy of belief, and what the person is telling me is congruent with reason yet beyond it, and so I choose to believe." That's the relationship between faith and reason it seems to me so.

In the debate with O'Connor, Barron defined faith as "the response to a revealing God." That makes very little sense in terms of how most people use faith. "You just have to have faith that God's plan, which involves this horrendous suffering, will result in good," someone might say. Let's switch those out: "You just have to have [the response to a revealing God] that God's plan, which involves this horrendous suffering, will result in good." Clearly, this definition of "faith" is not the same as the original sentence's sense of "faith." This might work for "the Christian faith" -- "the Christian response to a revealing God." That works. That's fine. You'd also have "the Muslim response to a revealing God," and so on -- but this "faith" just means "belief system" or even "religion."

Furthermore, the faith that Barron gives in this example is not faith -- it's trust. It's a trust that is based on experiential evidence. I believe my wife because she's shown herself to be trustworthy. I wouldn't make this same move (to use a favorite Barron term) with a stranger. The only time such a move (there it is again) is conceivable is if the revelation the stranger gives you is utterly trivial: "I have a dog."

This faith/trust often moves into faith/trust in Jesus, that we're to get to know Jesus and then we'll have faith in him. Or trust in him. But that is utterly different from the situation with my wife. My wife is physically present with me. She's not some hypothetical spiritual being out there but a real person that I can observe and talk to.

"You can get to know Jesus," comes the rejoinder. But how? Directly? No.

I can get to know him through the Bible, but that's problematic for obvious reasons that I've discussed numerous times here. It's filled with contradictions. The image of God presented in the Old Testament is positively barbaric. It's packed with immorality commanded from God -- it's just not a good example of a good supposedly written by an omnipotent being.

I can get to know him through what the church teaches about him, and here the Catholic church has a leg up on Protestants because they don't restrain themselves to the Bible. The magisterium has equal footing -- or nearly-equal footing. So if the Pope says it ex-cathedra, it's an article of faith. Still, that's just the same as relying on the Bible -- it's a product of humans.

Finally, I can get to know him in that way that Evangelicals and Mormons are especially fond of: that sense we have in our heart (it's telling that religions insist on using that metaphor when we've known for ages that the seat of our intellect is not our hearts but our brains -- it's an attempt, I suspect, to move the whole experience away from the intellect) that God is involved in our lives. That warm feeling in their hearts that Christians attribute to the Holy Spirit. I don't doubt the experience of that warm feeling, but to attribute it to anything outside one's own mind is itself an act of faith, an act not based on evidence. "It's the Holy Spirit!" the Bible proclaims and our pastors echo, and so Christians accept that explanation. Muslims have the same experiences but attribute that not to the Holy Spirit (that would be blaspheme, for God is one!) but to Allah. Hindus would make the same move. (It's rubbing off on me.)

So all three ways we get to know God or Jesus or the Holy Spirit are questionable: they're all open to interpretation; none are firmly grounded on rational reasoning based on evidence. That is what we skeptics mean when we say that faith is not reason, that it does not work in a similar way, and that it is separate from (sometimes anathema to) evidence.

Bishop Barron on Faith

I was listening to a debate between Alex O'Connor and Bishop Robert Barron on YouTube during my run this evening, and they got to talking about the nature of faith. I wanted to respond to it, but I didn't want to take the time to transcribe large portions of the video, so I tried my first-ever response video...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jmkvZTjsnGU

The original debate is here:

Pinewood Derby 2022

For this year's car, we decided to get a little silly.

Post-race damage evident

"I can't believe we didn't make a single cut on the car this year!" was the Boy's refrain.

We drilled a couple of holes to put in some weight; we sanded a lot; and we painted a bit. However, not a single cut.

We haven't had a lot of success in the pinewood derby. I don't think the Boy has even placed in his den let alone the pack.

Still, we kept trying. Last year, we employed a number of tricks:

  • polishing the axels;
  • bending the axles to make the wheels point outward at the bottom to minimize friction;
  • mounting one front wheel high so that it didn't touch the track;
  • making sure we'd put the weight in the perfect location relative to the car's center of gravity.

None of that really helped.

I think this year we were both hopeful that if we didn't place in the actual race we might get some recognition for originality. After all, we entered a stick of butter.

"I can't believe we didn't make a single cut on the car this year!"

It did about as well as our fine-tuned, finely-balanced car from last year in the race. And in the superlatives?

The Boy's expression says it all.

"I was hoping to win something today," he said quietly afterward.