There Are Two Ways To Get You To Do What I Want

When it comes downt to it, there are two ways to get people to do things: by word or by deed.  Or, to put it another way, I can ask you to do something or I can make you do something. This lesson is particularly a good one to learn as a child (I have no particular age in mind here, but the sooner the better, for both parent and child). The first time this truth arose in our home was when one of my sons had been ignoring the verbal pleas of my other son to "please stop" whatever it was that he was doing. After an exasperating few minutes, the offended son approached me to settle the dispute.  When I confronted the offending son, our conversation quickly turned to what this kind of foolish negligence on his part will lead.  Today, his brother; tomorrow, his friend; the next day, someone not so friendly who won't ask you twice.  And there's the rub.

To be sure, this is only one side of the equation: other people ought neither to ask nor compell us to do things that are either wrong or against our conscience. However, that's for another post (well, series of posts really). Scripture says, "As far as it depend on you, be at peace with all men." Part of what this means is, "Don't ignore people when they speak to you," particularly if it's neither illegal nor immoral.  Of course, it goes without saying (or does it?) that we are always free to turn down a request, to acquiesce, to decline, etc. But the point is, "Don't ignore people."

Now, merely acknowledging people doesn't guarantee peace; the other person might not like the way you choose to acknowledge them. But what will ensure hostility is prolonged negligence: nothing infuriates people more than being ignored when it's clear to everyone, especially them, that they are being ignored.

And this brings us to my point to my son. My efforts to train him to acknowledge his brother at the age of 8 (whether 'yea' or 'nay') is to prevent him from being beaten to a pulp someday by someone he's chosen to ignore, whether by fear, indifference, malice, or ignorance. This is not necessarily the same as cowering through life in fear of offending people.  It is, on the other hand, at the heart of giving respect to other human beings made in the image of God. Whether we use speech and language rightly (as in, "Please pass the salt") or wrongly (as in, "Give me the salt, you blockhead!"), we are speaking; we are exercising part of our divine image-bearing essence. To communicate is to be like God. Whether we do it rightly or not is a function of our soul's relation to God: if we are born again, our speech may be holy speech; if we are not, it is fallen speech. Either way, though, we are imaging forth what God does: communicate himself to others.

In the end, I want my son to be trained in the habits of respect and dignity: answer people when they speak to you. Decline their offers or requests if you like and if it's right, but do not ignore them.

Imagination, Evolution, & Education

I was listening to a podcast titled Philosophy Bites in which Edmonds and Warburton (forgot first names) interviewd Alison Gopnik on the imagination. Toward the end of the interview, Gopnik offered an explanation for why we even have imaginations at all. In her estimation, and from an evolutionary perspective, the role of imagination in childhood serves as the R&D department of the human race (what the imagination corresponds to in adults was not clear, although our purpose in general as adults could be summarized as PR and Marketinig). She went on to say that what's interesting about this is that the period of childhood in which we spend so much time exploring, pretending, etc. is time we actually spend inferring causal relationships in the world: this causes that, if I do this then that happens, and so on. So far so good. What followed, however, was that she observed that this doesn't do the human species at large any particular good; it's just a whole lot of years and resources spent on offspring who don't bring home any bacon and who consume a disproportionate amount of resources (time, attention, affection, money, etc). The conclusion she forwarded was that this whole thing actually seems to work because, from the child's perspective, nothing is "on the line" in their learninig. They get year after year of opportunity of "trial and error", and that, rather than being an inefficient use of time and resrouces, it paradoxically creates an environment in which learning is incredibly effective!

Now, what I want to know is, since this observation is true (and I think that it is, even though the evolutionary interpretation is flawed), two things:

1. Why has it taken evolutionary psychologists so long to see that children learn well when the "pressure" to learn is not constant, but they are shown the delight and sweetness of things,
2. Why is our national state education policy moving in exactly the opposite direction, requiring that every move of every student in every classroom on every day be quantified, analyzed, interpreted, and constructed upon for the next day's lesson?

BHT

A Glimpse of Lost Humanity at the Pool

I was watching today at a pool in which middle and elementary school children were receiving swimming lessons, and noticed how unattractive children are when they won't trust adults.  It wasn't as though they were explicitly defiant or that rebellion was oozing from every corner of the pool. However, I notice that those who could tread water, or even perform a sophisticated doggy-paddle, rarely gave serious attention to the swimming instructors on how to improve their stroke, or even learn a new one. In fact, I'm not even sure that they realize there do in fact exist distinctions between these arm/leg movements and those, even though they will all move your body through the water.

This got me thinking what a well-suited parable this was for the mainstream Postmodern throw-off of authority so prevalent today. The "old" addage "question authority" has become so emblazoned on the modern psyche that to utter the slogan smacks of being a cliche.  What happens, though, when such chickens come home to roost? If we raise our children on the milk of "question authority", is it OK when they question the life-guard?  And this doesn't just go for the question of safety, but also aesthetics and beauty.  For instance, have you ever wondered why in the world the human race has devised more than one swim stroke? What's the point? If the breast stroke will get you there, why bother with another? If one is for "cruising" and another for "speed", then why not just two strokes (not to mention what possible 'pragmatic' purpose a stroke for "cruising" serves)? And does the butterfly serve ANY practical purpose that no other stroke serves? And is it a complete accident that it's named after a beautiful creature, rather than after something a little less pretty (like 'scorpion'?)?

It seems to me that there are multiple strokes that serve so many purposes, not just because there really are that many purposes but because human beings have a penchant for beauty, for aesthetics, for beholding things of glory to admire.  And this, after all, is what every sport has to offer by athletes who've given themselves to their sport.  They train, they eat, they sleep, they schedule, (and mark this) they listen to coaches, all for the sake of perfecting to the best of their ability their craft. And they choose the strokes and sports they choose, not just to win, but to win beautifully, admirably.

And here is what I saw today: kids who "know how to swim", according to their own testimony, simply because they can keep themselves afloat. And they've been trained to only do what they're told if the authority in question can justify it's usefulness.  Here, there is no sense of improvement for beauty's sake, for the sake of improving something; there is only "how does that help me?" and if it doesn't, then they want nothing to do with it. It was a profoundly sickening experience; I felt as though I had received yet another glimpse of a humanity lost.

BHT

Christian Hedonism a la Thomas Manton

I fell in love with the English Puritans years ago; I found there (after much effort learning how to read them) a substance that was lacking in so much contemporary preaching, both theological as well as practical.  The other reason I have come to admire and appreciate them is because of the affective manner in which they speak about God: one almost gets the impression that they actually love him.  The following are a few excerpts I came across in Manton's work on Psalm 119 (it comes from volume 1, sermon 3):

God is the cause of all things, and nature cannot be satisfied without him. We were made for God, and can never enjoy satisfaction until we come to enjoy him.

The chiefest good should be sought after with the chiefest care, and chiefest love, and chiefest delight; nothing should be so precious to us as God. It is the greatest baseness that can be, that anything should take up our time, out thoughts, and content us more than God.

It is not enough to own Christ to be the true Messiah, but we must [also] embrace him....

We believe Christ with our whole heart when the heart is warmed with the things we know and assent to, when there is a full and free consent to take Christ upon God's terms to all the uses and purposes for which God hath appointed him....

When there is an effective and an affective knowledge; when we cannot only discourse of God and Christ, and are inclined to believe; but when these truths soak into the heart to frame it to the obedience of his will.

Many will be content to give God a part; God hath their consciences, but the world their affections.  Their heart is divided, and teh evidence of it is plainly this: in their troubles they will seek after God, but he is not their constant work and delight.

Such passages demonstrate just how far removed much of contemporary Christianity is from a living, breathng, feeling faith in Jesus Christ.  But what strikes me even more is how natural and earnest Manton is as he writes: there is no sense that he himself finds this affective dimension to be a foreign sounding thing; in fact, to hear him say it, such emotive work belongs in the very center of the heart of Christian faith. So why does it seem so absent (or, on the other hand, contrived) in so many churches?

BHT