On Pascal's Wager

When I roast coffee, one of the natural byproducts is CO2 gas, which escapes from the beans for about 18-36 hours of "resting." If one attempts to grind beans and prepare coffee from them before they have "off gassed" the flavor is ruined.

When one finishes reading a great book (or even in the midst of reading), a natural temptation arises to draw conclusions about the story or ideas the book discovers to the reader. The mind has been heated and agitated (sometimes positively, sometimes negatively) and wants to pronounce judgment in order to regain composure, or make good on the ideas through application.

The maxim "make haste slowly" (festina lente) applies in this moment of temptation. The mind needs to "off gas" for a period of time before its conclusions will have the flavor of wisdom. Unfortunately, traditions of misunderstanding can be built upon "off gassed" ideas, ruining the value of an author's work for those who do not encounter it directly, or who take up the work with a tainted palate.

"Off gassed" ideas have accumulated around Pascal's idea of "the wager," which is found in his posthumously published book, Pensées. The standard view takes the wager as a "proof" of God's existence offered to atheists, intended to induce them to belief through an intricate probability game. Here's a portion of it from Pascal:

Yes, but you must wager. There is no choice, you are already committed. Which will you choose then? Let us see: since a choice must be made, let us see which offers you the least interest. You have two things to lose: the true and the good; and two things to stake: your reason and your will, your knowledge and your happiness; and your nature has two things to avoid: error and wretchedness. Since you must necessarily choose, your reason is no more affronted by choosing one rather than the other. That is one point cleared up. But your happiness? Let us weigh up the gain and the loss involved in calling heads that God exists. Let us assess the two cases: if you win you win everything, if you lose you lose nothing. Do not hesitate then; wager that he does exist. (Pensées, p. 123 in 1995 Penguin Classics edition, from which all quotations are taken)

At first glance the wager seems a straightforward inducement to belief in God, but taken in conjunction with other claims Pascal makes throughout the Pensées, to accept it as a complete apologetic proof would be contradictory.

Instead, when viewed in the context of Pascal's view of man and how man comes to know God, the best The Wager provides is a goad toward seeking after God rather than remaining indifferent to Him--a propaedeutic to or preparation for faith rather than an inducement to it.

Consider the following aphorism:

Let us go on to examine the order of the world, and see whether all things do not tend to establish the two main tenets of this religion [Christianity]: Jesus Christ is the object of all things, the centre toward which all things tend. Whoever knows him knows the reason for everything.

Those who go astray only do so for want of seeing one of these two things [that there is a God, of whom all men are capable, and that there is a corruption in nature which makes them unworthy]. It is then perfectly possible to know God but not our own wretchedness, or our own wretchedness but not God; but it is not possible to know Christ without knowing both God and our wretchedness alike.

And that is why I shall not undertake here to prove by reasons from nature either the existence of God, or the Trinity or the immortality of the soul, or anything of that kind: not just because I should not feel competent to find in nature arguments which would convince hardened atheists, but also because knowledge, without Christ, is useless and sterile. Even if someone were convinced that the proportions between numbers are immaterial, eternal truths, depending on a first truth in which they subsist, called God, I should not consider that he had made much progress towards his salvation (141).

Pascal offers here (and elsewhere) his anthropology: Christianity teaches man to know God and to know himself--to know God as the aim of his humanity, but also to know his humanity as incapable of reaching God in its present state. Man can gain either of these propositions apart from Christianity, but it is only in the knowledge of Jesus Christ--as the object of all things and the center towards which all things tend--that man is able to know God or himself truly, that is, unto salvation.

Aphorisms 189-192 establish the same fundamental claim, that apart from knowing Christ, apologetic efforts are fruitless:

All those who have claimed to know God and prove his existence without Jesus Christ have only had futile proofs to offer (56)

The metaphysical proofs for the existence of God are so remote from human reasoning and so involved that they make little impact. . . (57)

It is not only impossible but useless to know God without Christ (57)

Knowing God without knowing our own wretchedness makes for pride. Knowing our own wretchedness without knowing God makes for despair. Knowing Jesus Christ strikes the balance because he shows us both God and our own wretchedness (57).

The Wager does not induce either knowledge of God (since it simply offers acceptance of His existence, not knowledge of it) nor knowledge of man's wretchedness, and thus not knowledge of Jesus Christ.  If offered as an apologetic, it would contradict Pascal's beliefs about proofs of God's existence and how man enters salvation.

However, Pascal offers a clue to understanding how the Wager might be understood. In the lengthy aphorism 427 in the section on indifference, Pascal chides those who make half-hearted attempts at Christianity before rejecting it, noting that God is as much the hidden God (Deus absconditus, cf. Is. 45:15) as the revealed God; a fact establishing:

[T]hat God has appointed visible signs in the Church so that he shall be recognized by those who genuinely seek him, and that he has none the less hidden them in such a way that he will only be perceived by those who seek him with all their heart, then what advantage can they derive when, unconcerned to seek the truth as they profess to be, they protest that nothing shows it to them? For the obscurity in which they find themselves, and which they use as an objection against the Church, simply establishes one of the things the Church maintains without affecting the other, and far from proving her teaching false, confirms it. (127-28)

In other words, Pascal believes the Revelation of God to be obscured from those who do not seek after Him with all their heart such that those who vainly reject God upon a whim are themselves a confirmatory proof that Scripture speaks truly. He goes on to say,

They think they have made great efforts to learn when they have spent a few hours reading some book of the Bible, and have questioned some ecclesiastic about the truths of the faith. After that they boast that they have sought without success in books and among men. But, in fact, I should say to them what I have often said: such negligence is intolerable. It is not a question here of the trifling interest of some stranger prompting such behaviour: it is a question of ourselves, and our all. (128)

From such sentiments, Pascal clearly does not consider the Wager to be the kind of thing one could venture his all upon in order to discover God and salvation. Yet he recognizes that many men are blinded to their own state, and many men fall into complacency, and charity demands some effort on their behalf:

Nothing is so important to man as his state: nothing more fearful than eternity. Thus the fact that there exist men who are indifferent to the loss of their being and the peril of an eternity of wretchedness is against nature. With everything else they are different; they fear the most trifling things, foresee and feel them; and the same man who spends so many days and nights in fury and despair at losing some office or at some imaginary affront to his honour is the very one who knows that he is going to lose everything through death but feels neither anxiety nor emotion. It is a monstrous thing to see one and the same heart at once so sensitive to minor things and so strangely insensitive to the greatest. It is an incomprehensible spell, a supernatural torpor that points to an omnipotent power as its cause. (131)

As for those who live without either knowing or seeking him [God], they consider it so little worth while to take trouble over themselves that they are not worth other people's trouble, and it takes all the charity of that religion they despise [Christianity] not to despise them to the point of abandoning them to their folly. But as this religion [Christianity] obliges us always to regard them, as long as they live, as being capable of receiving grace which may enlighten them, and to believe that in a short time they may be filled with more faith than we are, while we on the contrary may be stricken by the same blindness which is theirs now, we must do for them what we would wish to be done for us in their place, and appeal to them to have pity on themselves, and to take at least a few steps in an attempt to find some light. (133)

Perhaps Pascal's observations that many men are pretenders at seriousness and many others are earnestly indifferent lead him to contrive some simple means of goading them to awareness of the folly of their pretense and indifference? It seems to me that Pascal's Wager serves just such a purpose. When taken as a stimulus toward thinking about God and the afterlife rather than as a proof for the reality of God, the Wager might be the means by which the Spirit of God moves the heart of man to seek Him out rather than languish in blindness. At any rate, I think this view of the Wager does more justice to Pascal's work as a whole than viewing it as a conclusive proof of God's existence.

What Would Abbot Suger Say Today?

"The dull mind rises to truth through that which is material. And, in seeing this light, is resurrected from its former submersion." ~Abbot Suger

I'd like to thank you for meeting with me Mr. Warbucks, and I'm glad to hear that Peter, Edmund, and Lucy are all enjoying the school year so far. I enjoyed watching you quaff a pint of fresh brewed root beer with Peter at our Medieval Feast earlier this year--it is one of my favorite events of the year. 

As you know, our school hopes to renovate our downtown property, including a 120-year-old Gothic-style church honored with a state historical marker. There are many practical benefits the school hopes to achieve with this renovation, such as bringing our entire student body together in one building, reducing the burden on our local Church ministry partner, and returning a historic landmark back to its former glory in our city. But I want you to see the grander vision behind and beyond these modest aims, because I'd like you to be a cornerstone donor of this restoration project, contributing the first 15% to the $1.5 million budget; $225,000. I know that's a lot to ask, but let me put it into perspective.

Perhaps you've seen the Abbey of St. Denis in France, renovated by Abbot Suger in the 12th century? Suger raised an enormous amount of wealth to build the basilica of the Abbey--money that could have been allocated toward the feeding of the poor or the relief of widows or a host of other humanitarian needs surrounding him. Why did he build a basilica? He wanted there to be a place where Divine truth could be discovered and contemplated for generations--a symbol of Christ's glory and His glorification of His Bride. 

You and I both believe that the Classical Christian Education Veritas provides your grandchildren is the richest inheritance they could receive, and it is no less true for the other members of Christ's body and our neighbors in this county. Like the Abbey of St. Denis, the church we want to restore will serve as a symbol for our current families, and for their children and their children's children for generations to come--a symbol of the wisdom and virtue of men passed down through the ages and brought under the banner of aegis of Christ and His Church. The vision of Classical Christian Education will become more visible, more tangible, more glorious to those who are looking for something better for their own children, and I hope you can see the value of it too. Are you willing to set this first cornerstone of the vision into the earth?

My Attempt at Branding

In preparation for answering a hypothetical scenario, I wrote the following "sales pitch" to parents in the Bible Belt who might inquire about Classical Christian Education. Despite being a student of rhetoric for half of my life, I don't think persuasion is in my blood. 

Why Classical Christian Education?

 

Why do we educate our children? What do we hope it will make of them? If our education is for acquiring college scholarships, job placements, career paths, and stability for the future, what makes us different from the atheist who denies God, the soul, and life after death? If we make no distinction, our children won’t either, and when they enter a world where remaining faithful to Christ threatens the things we’ve taught them to seek they will jettison Christ for earthly success. Our children will gain the whole world and lose their souls.

 

Paul put it this way to the Corinthians, who were also tempted to seek the wrong things:

 

For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God. 19 For it is written:

 

“I will destroy the wisdom of the wise,

And bring to nothing the understanding of the prudent.”

 

20 Where is the wise? Where is the scribe? Where is the disputer of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of this world? 21 For since, in the wisdom of God, the world through wisdom did not know God, it pleased God through the foolishness of the message preached to save those who believe. 22 For Jews request a sign, and Greeks seek after wisdom; 23 but we preach Christ crucified, to the Jews a stumbling block and to the Greeks foolishness, 24 but to those who are called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God. 25 Because the foolishness of God is wiser than men, and the weakness of God is stronger than men.

 

Paul’s words in 1 Corinthians 1:18-25 answer the question, Why Classical Christian Education?

 

Wisdom shows us how to live well in the world. Education offers wisdom to its students. At least that’s what education should do. Acquiring wisdom requires more than being around kind people who will keep us safe and provide us with facts and skills. Paul says the message of the cross is the power of God, power that “will destroy the wisdom of the wise, and bring to nothing the understanding of the prudent.” In other words, those who don’t learn according to the message of the cross will find their “wisdom” brought to nothing. To learn Christ’s message of the cross requires more than learning its truth. It includes learning how to abide in the truth. What is the message of the cross? In 1 Corinthians it is chiefly acknowledging that human weakness—a humble, poor spirit we might say—is God’s chosen vessel of demonstrating His wisdom and power. In one sense education according to the cross is a revelation of man to himself to humble him—I am a mortal, full of vice and corruption. We approach learning in the double darkness of sin and ignorance. In another sense education according to the cross is a revelation of God to man to glorify him—God became man to transform my mortality into immortality, my vice and corruption into incorruptible virtue. We approach learning in the hope of becoming divine.

 

Jews request a sign and Greeks seek after wisdom, but we preach Christ crucified, to the Jews a stumbling block and to the Greeks foolishness. The Jews are the people of God who have rejected the message of the cross in hopes of earthly gain, though they possess the oracles of God. Greeks are those who long for knowledge and experience of the divine, but cannot submit their “wisdom” to the “foolishness” of God’s revelation in Christ, the God-man. Classical education, in its most basic form, is remembering; guarding the memory of man’s best efforts—honoring our forefathers that we may inherit God’s promise. We guard the people of God’s best efforts to preserve the Way of Christ against the temptations of the world. We guard the City of Man’s best efforts to “seek the Lord, in the hope that they might grope for Him and find Him” against the despair of pride. If we want to go further up and further into the wisdom and power of God, we must stand upon their shoulders. And isn’t this what we should want education to make of our children?

Gareth's Good Word

How does one recognize when one has fallen into idolatry? Though it isn't perhaps the only way, one good way is to examine one's liberty--am I free from guilt, anxiety, covetousness, discontent, wrath, vainglory, and so forth--in other words, am I living like a slave, or am living like a free individual?

Who should be King save him who makes us free?

Jesus answered them, “Truly, truly, I say to you, everyone who commits sin is the slave of sin. “The slave does not remain in the house forever; the son does remain forever. “So if the Son makes you free, you will be free indeed.

In the second story in Tennyson's Idylls of the King, Gareth wants to join Arthur's knights, but his mother Bellicent wants him to remain home and hunt until he has grown older and stronger. At the end of one of his pleas, Gareth says, "Man am I grown, a man's work must I do. / Follow the deer? follow the Christ, the King, / Live pure, speak true, right wrong, follow the King - / Else, wherefore born?" Bellicent ignores the noble element of his plea and focuses on the tenuous nature of Arthur's kingship, since his claim to the throne remains disputed. The opening quote is Gareth's final word before his mother relents (with a condition).

Gareth's simple words strike at the heart of man's plight, reflected in the words of Jesus to the Pharisees in John 8, also quoted above. Those given over to sin remain slaves to sin, and have no sonship, no inheritance, in the Kingdom of God. But those whom the Son has set free, are free indeed--that is, they are no longer slaves to sin, but heirs of the household; sons of the Father. Elsewhere in John's Gospel, Jesus defines His sonship to the Father and the authority such sonship implies by His submission to the Father's will and commands: "I can do nothing on my own authority; I judge only as God tells me, so my judgement is right, because I am not trying to do what I want, but only what he who sent me wants;" "For I have not spoken on my own authority, but the Father who sent me has himself given me a commandment—what to say and what to speak." 

A Master and a Father both command and promise. A slave obeys his master out of fear, or because of some promised reward. However, the freedom of sonship is the freedom to obey the Father's commands willingly, in the knowledge that the Father's pleasure and future inheritance remain upon, and are entrusted to the son. Everything a master has belongs to the master alone, not the slave. Everything the Father has belongs to the Son, and will be his to command in the fullness time. The slave has no hope of inheritance, because he is a slave and not a son. The son has no fear of retribution or renunciation, for his mistakes are part of becoming able to command his inheritance.

Idols are like masters, but worse, for they make promises illegitimately, since only the Father possesses by rights all that He has made. An idol will make demands and offer rewards, but consumptively; not as the Father who commands His son to obey so that he might become greater and be glorified. An idol's promises are illicit--the idol has no power to glorify, no power to save, but only the power to consume and destroy. An idol "would be King," but cannot make his "slave" free. Only the King who can free is a King worthy of honor, fidelity, and worship. So what does it look like to be a son in the Father's Kingdom?

As expected, the Only Son of God shows us. The freedom of the Son is the freedom to speak as the Father would have us speak and do as the Father would have us do. Idolatry is characterized by the inability to live in this freedom. To cling to patterns of sin, to cling to identities that are abominable in God's sight, to wield worldly powers to coerce others (sex, wealth, fame, intelligence, physical strength, etc.), to live in despair of obedience--these are the rewards of idolatry.

In John 12, Jesus says this:

Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Whoever loves his life loses it, and whoever hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life. If anyone serves me, he must follow me; and where I am, there will my servant be also. If anyone serves me, the Father will honor him.

Shall we follow the deer? Shall we seek those earthly rewards that bring pleasure; those patterns of selfish desire? No! Let us follow the Christ, the King! Let us live pure, speak true, right wrong, follow the King -  else, wherefore born?

On the Use of Fairy Stories in Communal Education

Education in a diverse community introduces difficulties that don't exist (or exist less characteristically) within an individual family. Parents have particular convictions and affections, which they pass on to their children directly and indirectly. When parents collaborate with one another to educate their children, whether in a co-op or in a school, they bring not only the convictions and affections they share, but also those that differ. An important conversation involves discovering what differences are irresolvable, but that's a conversation for another time. Assuming that differences do not pose irresolvable difficulties:

What can families do to help one another stay united in the education of their children?

Sharing common stories offers a means for navigating differences, because shared stories can help people identify wise, virtuous principles and choices in the midst of their differences. In lived reality wise, virtuous principles and choices become confused by the naturally limited perspective of humans and by selfish desires that oppose wisdom and virtue. Fairy stories provide the kind of story well-suited to discover wisdom and virtue since they involve normal characters in abnormal adventures that put vices and virtues on display clearly and distinctly. Fairy stories do not involve ambiguity about what is right or wrong, virtuous or vicious, good or evil; and so the reader or listener knows which characters, motives, and behaviors are worthy of emulation, and why; and which characters, motives, and behaviors are worthy of renunciation, and why. Fairy stories inhabit an imaginative moral reality that provides a clear lens through which one may look at his own moral reality, which is harder to evaluate, but made easier with a "fabulous lens".

The Lord of the Rings may not be the greatest story ever told, but because it is a fairy tale accessible to people of all levels of maturity it serves as a clear lens through which to evaluate lived reality. For the sake of the following imaginative experiment, suppose the co-op or school requires all members of every family to read (or be read to) The Lord of the Rings each year as part of their enrollment and re-enrollment. Now suppose two parents differ on the amount of rigor a teacher requires of the students. Suppose as well that the rigor-loving parent and teacher have a wiser perspective than the rigor-doubtful parent. Further suppose the differences between the parents include expectations from within their families and churches, but the educational standards of the co-op or school favors the rigorous position. One could (and should) appeal to theological principles, and to hoped-for family outcomes, but since these are not closely shared, the appeal to a commonly shared story might serve better for understanding and agreement.

How might The Lord of the Rings provide a clear lens in this hypothetical situation?

The rigor-loving parent (or teacher) could remind the rigor-doubtful parent of the Scouring of the Shire. Gandalf, the wise and powerful wizard, leaves the younger, less experienced, and less powerful hobbits (Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin) alone to defeat the numerous enemies who have taken over their homeland. The parent could recall that the hobbits make short work of their enemies--an impossible victory but for the fruit produced in them by the year-long journey to destroy the Ring of Power. One could ask, "What made the hobbits brave enough, temperate enough, wise enough, strong enough, and just enough to defeat their enemies without becoming evil themselves?" Of course it was the much greater trials they suffered together on the quest under the tutelage of more mature souls. If the purpose of education is to grow wise,  virtuous, and strong, then teachers should strive to provide to children with opportunities to do things that are beyond their powers to perform easily, perfectly, without the possibility for failure, or without the need to rely upon more mature souls to guide them.

It is not certain that such appeals would be successful, but where shared stories persist, and especially where they are loved and admired, fodder for such encouragement remains available in ways that transcend the differences within the community.

Sabbath Song #1

I will arise and ascend to meet,

Jerusalem of Heaven coming down.

Saints in glory shall I greet,

Led by Christ, robed and crowned.

Ye saints on earth join in the song,

Shed your sorrows from the valley,

Thy prayers lift up a tower strong,

Entwining an unnumbered tally.

Shout! Let the gates of Hell tremble,

Shout! The King of Glory descends!

Shout! Let all His saints assemble,

Shout! Every power before Him bends!

Let us arise and ascent to meet,

Jerusalem of Heaven coming down.

Saints in glory let us greet,

Led by Jesus, robed and crowned.

When we depart, armed for battle,

Let not vice nor evil arrow land,

Let foes hear our roar and rattle,

Let them fear our joyous band!

Take our lives! Our souls remain,

Take our goods! We have our King,

Take our might! God shall sustain,

Take all away! We still shall sing:

Shout! Let the gates of Hell tremble,

Shout! The King of Glory descends!

Shout! Let all His saints assemble,

Shout! Every power before Him bends!

Contrasting Figures of Glory

Glory, as God, is revealed,

Yet remains shrouded:

Mysterious even for all its familiarity.

What does the word mean, anyway?

And can it once, twice, figured out, glimpséd be?

Is it like what happens when you first arrive at a beach?

You step onto the scalding, bleached sand; feet bare,

("Is this holy ground?" your feet squeak)

You cannot stare--the orb of heaven's beams break

Upon the waters and dash into your eyes from the dunes

Dazzling them with impenetrable light.

Yet there is sight,

(and zounds! sounds, too)

Ocean waves, emerald and azure dejure, speak to you,

They whisper in harmonic tones, tomes;

Whishing their wishes for someone to hear,

Some one, like you, with ears and eyes and pores open.

The sky lengthens itself across the horizon,

Kissing the sea along its entire body,

As its clouds, pluming with loving pride, ascend,

Stretching their precipitous bulk toward the firmament.

Or maybe glory is like a thunderstorm in the wild,

Where no man wishes to witness its violence unsheltered.

Spewing liquid bullets at the earth from high turrets,

(A million gatling guns going off--RA-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!)

Zeus-flung fire bolts from the bow of heaven fall,

(Drums of thunder shock the air with their sound--BA-BOOM-BOOM-boom-boom)

Blasting the grasses and trees into oblivion,

Bringing forth fires to blow their foul breath,

Popping and hissing across the plains in the rain,

Leaving behind their black carnage, and scattered bones,

To be bleached in the sun's bright coroner light,

Testifying to the storm's death-dealing power,

From which, in time, new life shall, verdant, 

Spring (copses from corpses).

Twice figured glory, are you thus espied, touched, and sounded?

And in a story, sweetly fabled, moralized and founded?

Wherein Nietzsche Compliments Classical Students

Nobody will very readily regard a doctrine as true merely because it makes people happy or virtuous—excepting, perhaps, the amiable "Idealists," who are enthusiastic about the good, true, and beautiful, and let all kinds of motley, coarse, and good-natured desirabilities swim about promiscuously in their pond. ~Beyond Good & Evil, "The Free Spirit," 39.

Nietzsche further says happiness and virtue are no arguments (but he also says consequences are the only test of value--go figure), but that's less interesting to me than just what he says in this quotation. I think he is articulating that by letting "swim promiscuously in their pond," "all kinds of motley, coarse, and good-natured desirabilities," the "amiable 'Idealists' who are enthusiastic about the good, true, and beautiful" don't discriminate about the material sources of these values. They take in all kinds.

Classical students promote the search for the transcendentals (goodness, truth, beauty) wherever they might be strewn about. We are some of those "amiable idealists" (I'm going to keep that one). Our collection is often eclectic. We're happy to let ol' toadie Voltaire sit on his lily pad while electric eel Luther lurks in the depths below; provided that whatever hangs about possesses something true, good, or beautiful in some way, shape, or form.

Perhaps Nietzsche would consider such a pond too polluted for swimming in himself. The hoi polloi koi swimming in the murky waters might offend his arboreal kookaburra spirit. But then again, a pond full of various life forms tends to be the healthiest and most lively. There's even room for a loud-mouthed, territorial bird, when the right alarums need to be sounded.

A Fate Worse Than Death?

In Plato's Laws, the punishment for husbands killing wives and vice versa is permanent exile from their homeland. Fratricide, Matricide, and Patricide receive the death penalty. From a modern vantage point it would seem that exile is the lesser sentence, but for those in the dialogue, it is much worse. Part of the reason is likely due to certain beliefs about the afterlife--that a murdered soul will continue to inhabit the land where he dies, and thus torment the soul of his murderer. Thus, an exile that dies outside of its homeland must wander not only in life but also in death--permanently separated from the soil from everything that mores his identity and purpose--homeland, people, ancestors, progeny.

In this observation the punishment of exile seems much closer to the Christian idea of eternal damnation--the torment of being forever exiled from the God who gives identity and purpose to all that He has made. To be exiled in the second death is indeed a fate worse than death itself. The immortal soul destined to wander without identity or purpose seems torment enough--to be left alone, entirely alone, knowing that you abandoned your only hope of restoration would be a torment akin to a lake of fire for the soul.

How Do I Get My Student to Study Scripture and Practice Spiritual Disciplines? An Example Exercise

I started teaching a new class this year. I originally designed it for 7th graders, but I ended up needing to make it work for a combined class of 11th and 12th graders as well. Like almost all new courses, there are things that are going really well, and things that will need tweaking, or scrapping altogether.

One of the assignments I've been happiest with in theory, but which has proved a challenge to get students complete with consistency, is the weekly "theological meditations and digests." The idea is to have students begin forming regular habits of reading their Bible, using spiritual authorities to help them understand and gain insights from the passage, and practice a spiritual discipline. The students have a journal in which they copy the Scripture and a brief comment from two Church Fathers or theologians. In class we'll recite our daily prayers, I'll read the passage and comments, and then they'll spend a few minutes completing the "digest," which is their participation in, or a reflection upon their participation in, the spiritual discipline for the week. Part of the difficulty is that each class only meets twice a week, so consistency in practice is hard to achieve. Here's an example of the meditation and digest:

Week 8 Meditations

The Epistle of James

Days Fifteen and Sixteen

James 3:13-18 – Who is wise and understanding among you? Let him show by good conduct that his works are done in the meekness of wisdom. 14 But if you have bitter envy and self-seeking in your hearts, do not boast and lie against the truth. 15 This wisdom does not descend from above, but is earthly, sensual, demonic. 16 For where envy and self- seeking exist, confusion and every evil thing are there. 17 But the wisdom that is from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, willing to yield, full of mercy and good fruits, without partiality and without hypocrisy. 18 Now the fruit of righteousness is sown in peace by those who make peace.

Chrysostom comments:
Let us cleanse the eyes of our souls of all filth. For just as filth and mud blind the eyes of the flesh, so too worldly concerns and discussions about moneymaking can dull the hearing of our minds more effectively than any filth, and not only corrupt them but do wicked things as well. (Catena)

Desiderius Erasmus comments:
Human-made philosophy produces professors who are captious, obstinate, and ferocious. But the more sincere, the more effective evangelical philosophy becomes, the less it is marked by arrogance. Its special force is located not in syllogistic subtleties or rhetorical trappings, but in sincerity of life and gentleness of character, which gives way to the contentious, attracts the docile, and has no other object than the salvation of its hearers. It is a heavenly wisdom. (Paraphrase on James 3:13-18)

Digest: The Discipline of Gratitude
Reflect on the areas of your life where you complain the most. How can you be thankful for these circumstances rather than complaining? Ask God to help you discover gratitude in these areas where you tend to complain.

I've had a few diligent students in the 7th grade who've kept up with their journals each week, but a number of them aren't careful enough to remember to take their journal home consistently and complete the copy work required. Part of the problem there, I suspect, is that some parents expect their student to be an independent worker, but haven't anticipated (or prepared their child for) the necessities of that responsibility. In my own home, I have a 7th grader, and while we've preached organization and discipline, he still forgets and is controlled more by his immediate appetites than the impetus of responsibilities. However, knowing this, I've made it a point to provide a routine he must follow so that he doesn't have the option to forget (as long as he doesn't leave his journal in his locker!). The older students have proven much more consistent in their diligence, but I haven't discovered whether the assignment is bearing the kind of fruit I'm hoping for--am I adding on to Bible reading/study that they already do? Do they recognize the value of consistently being in God's Word and in spiritual disciplines, or is it just busy work to their thinking?

One thing I can say, in preparing the weekly meditations and digests I've had to complete them myself, which has been good for me. In order to gather comments I've been using the Ancient Christian Commentary on Scripture and the Reformation Commentary on Scripture, which has been really enlightening, both in terms of illuminating the Scriptures and illuminating the sometimes similar, sometimes different concerns of the Church Fathers and Reformation theologians.

If any of you out there who happen to read this use something similar, or adopt what I've done and have your own reflections to offer, please share them in the comments.

An Example of a Deliberative Exercise

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The Assignment:

It is the Fourth Age of Men and King Eldarion, heir of Aragorn and bearer of Andúril, has been dead for many years, and, having left no heir, his sword was placed in a holy shrine dedicated to Eru Ilúvatar in the citadel of the kings located in the city of Gondor. A sacred law was established saying that none could take and wield the sword until he showed great valor in saving the city. During the Great Battle of the 4^th age, orcs of Mardurgil attacked Gondor, breeching its walls and raiding its citadel. As the raid was taking place, Barahir, the grandson of Faramir, sought to defend the citadel. During his defense his sword was broken and he fled into the shrine where Andúril was kept. He took the sword and rallied the men, slaying Mardurgil and pushing the orcs out of the city. Once peace was secured the elders called Barahir before the council to decide whether he should keep the sword because he used it to save the city, or whether he is unworthy to keep the sword because he took it before achieving any great valor.

Instructions: Write an essay in favor of or against the claim of Barahir to the sword Andúril using the six-part essay format (introduction, statement of facts, division, confirmation, refutation, conclusion) and any available strategies from Hermogenes. Your statement of facts should arrange the details of the event so as to highlight your definition (Barahir’s actions meet the standard of “great valor”) or counter-definition (Barahir’s actions do not meet the standard of “great valor”). Feel free to ask questions.

The Example:

You wisest men of Gondor, best fathers of us all, I bid you welcome to this assembly. Before you stands Barahir, our timely hero, whose deeds of late are well known to you. I need not remind you how he singlehandedly delivered our city from destruction. You, yourselves know of his desperate charge from the citadel, with Andúril, Flame of the West held aloft in his bloody hand, calling down the fiery dawn’s first rays upon the foul orc horde. You have heard sung the testimony of his beloved soldiers, how he reigned down Eru Illuvatar’s sacred fire upon Mardurgil’s helm, cleaving it asunder as he cut a path down through the city to her gates, rallying our men and casting out every last remnant of defiling orc scum. I would that such words today commemorated the high honors already bestowed upon Barahir by this great council. Instead, I am compelled to defend his honor, besmirched by jealous accusers. Men who, instead of showering just honors upon Barahir, have called him sacrilegious blasphemer, warmonger, and vainglorious usurper. I come to answer these charges on behalf of Barahir and to prove not only that he is no usurper, no warmonger, no blasphemer; but also to show why he is worthy to possess Andúril and lead our city into its former glory as in the days of Aragorn himself.

You have heard the words of his accusers, to which I will turn to in a moment. But before I address their blasphemies, I wish to remind you of Barahir’s valorous blood; to bring before your eyes the image of Faramir, his grandfather, in the very man you see before you. I will then recount the deeds of Barahir in the battle for Gondor’s Citadel, resting place of our kings, who from their sepulchers witnessed valor not seen since the siege of Gondor at the end of the Third Age. I must then say a word about the sacred law concerning Andúril, and what its framers meant by enshrining it in sacred holiness. Then, if words remain necessary, I will turn at last to the accusers claims.

Nobility, like the finest vintage, does not emerge from tender shoots of newborn vines, but stretches forth from generations in which deep roots have delved into the earth, both to draw strength from the soil and to hold fast against the fiercest elements. My fathers, Barahir’s valor draws its strength from well-anchored roots as you well know. His blood flows from Boromir son of Denethor, his great uncle, whose valor no man questions. This alone should quell all doubts! Yet it is not Boromir’s blood that runs thickest through Barahir’s veins, but his grandfather Faramir’s! It was not Boromir who resisted the corruption of the Ring of Power, though he paid for his sin with a sacrifice of blood. It was Faramir whose quality shown the brightest when tempted by Sauron’s ring. Moreover, it was Faramir who counted not the scorn of his father so great as to prevent him defending the last stronghold protecting Gondor from Sauron’s army, led by the Witch King of Angmar! Steward of stewards, was this Faramir—greatest servant of Aragorn Elf-Stone—and it is his grandson Barahir who carries his noble blood into our presence today and stewards our people through his shining quality.

Did not Barahir lead our men in sorties against the hordes of Mardurgil when they besieged the city before breeching our walls? Who was it that led the defense of the gates until they broke before the enemy’s iron fist? Barahir bears the scars on his right arm from where the shards of that gate embedded in his flesh as he cast his last spear and swung his blade in mighty arcs when the battering ram shattered our doors to pieces. It was Barahir who rallied the men into ranks, some to defend the women and children and some to retreat with him to the Citadel, where a last defense would be made. No man slew more orcs in that endeavor than Barahir, though his arm gushed out his strength as a river. When his sword shattered from hewing so much orc armor, he found himself at the mouth of the sacred shrine of Eru Ilúvatar. Barahir, who had barely time to take breath under the onslaught, breathed a prayer to Eru as he sped into the shrine for Andúril. With a shout of defiance and hope he sprang from the sacred room with all the might of our fallen kings clenched in his bloody fist, and what a mighty blow did it wield, my fathers! I ask you, would such a sacred sword as Andúril sing so lustily and so clearly for a valorless man? Would not the sword have resisted under an unworthy hand? Could Eru Ilúvatar grant victory—not just victory but victory of such glory and splendor that songs of it will stretch into the Fifth age of men—would Eur give such to one whose valor and nobility was dubious?

Our forefathers who crafted the sacred law could not foresee the day or hour when Andúril would be needed again. Instead they entrusted it to Eru Himself, with the explicit acknowledgment that only the most valorous would be worth of Eru’s blessing to take the sword up for having delivered Gondor from peril. Had they but known that Gondor’s peril would be such as Barahir faced, they would have named him destined heir to Andúril in their law! As it was, by enshrining the sword under the sacred watch of the fallen Kings, before the face of Eru Ilúvatar, no mere man, and certainly no base one, would have been granted the victory that Barahir won by Andúril’s edge and Eru’s might. Did not the sword sense its rightful place in the hand of Barahir? When his bloody fist gripped its hilt, could not the sword feel the spirit of Faramir rushing into it from the pounding of Barahir’s heart, burning with the mighty zeal of that Steward of old?

And yet we hear base men of little worth and excelling ambition hurl slanders at our True and Faithful Steward. They say Barahir committed sacrilege and blasphemy by taking the sword from its shrine without the blessing of this council. I ask you now, my wise fathers, which of you, if you were standing with Barahir at the mouth of the shrine would not have bid him take up the sword? Which of you, having witnessed with your own eyes all that I have recounted, would not have thrown yourselves upon Barahir’s knees and begged him to take up the mantle of the Steward, fix Andúril in his fist, and mow down the enemies of Gondor like so much dry stubble? Do you deem him unworthy of the sword as he stands before you now, savior of the city? Then how could his acts of valor with Andúril disqualify him from possessing the instrument of our salvation?

These treacherous men say that Barahir is a warmonger and usurper of Gondor’s throne. They accuse him of inciting Mardurgil’s wrath so that he could steal Andúril and take the throne. What madness! No man, no council of men, could orchestrate so elaborate and spectacular a ruse. Barahir did not send the men of Gondor to the East to scout the whereabouts of Mardurgil’s horde. Barahir did not put into that black orc heart the lust for all mankind’s destruction. What fool could believe that a man so given over to selfish lust would abandon his body to the perils at the gate, as Barahir did? Who, but a self-righteous and envious dog could believe that any man would carve up his body on the blades of his enemies, break his own sword, and save but a remnant band of weary men to make a last charge against the wrath of evil orcs—even with such a blade as Andúril—by design to usurp the throne of a city already in flames?!

I will waste no more words; indeed one word at all is a waste for such slanders, yet in such dark times as these even basest slanders gain a hearing, seeing that our eyes lack the light of former glory. And yet, and yet, O my fathers, here before you stands a ray of that light from our glorious past shining anew! See him stand meek and strong to receive your judgment! He does not plead, or beg—his face is all of peace. For he knows that his cause is just, and that no city is worth his honor if it condemn the valor it has witnessed in him. Will you not honor him? Will you go against the will of Eru Ilúvatar Himself, who gave Barahir the victory and delivered Gondor from destruction? If you refuse him Andúril, you cannot rob him of the valor he has already achieved, but you can rob yourselves of the honor of your office. Add your voice to what the silent cries of our fallen kings shout from the Citadel—the Citadel that still stands because of Barahir—Andúril is yours, True Steward of Gondor! Andúril is yours, True Steward of Gondor! Andúril is yours, True Steward of Gondor!