Pascal’s Wager

If there is a God, He is infinitely incomprehensible, since, having neither parts nor limits, He has no affinity to us. We are then incapable of knowing either what He is or if He is….

…”God is, or He is not.” But to which side shall we incline? Reason can decide nothing here. There is an infinite chaos which separated us. A game is being played at the extremity of this infinite distance where heads or tails will turn up. What will you wager? According to reason, you can do neither the one thing nor the other; according to reason, you can defend neither of the propositions.

Do not, then, reprove for error those who have made a choice; for you know nothing about it. “No, but I blame them for having made, not this choice, but a choice; for again both he who chooses heads and he who chooses tails are equally at fault, they are both in the wrong. The true course is not to wager at all.”

Yes; but you must wager. It is not optional. You are embarked. Which will you choose then? Let us see. Since you must choose, let us see which interests you least. 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 shun, error and misery. Your reason is no more shocked in choosing one rather than the other, since you must of necessity choose. This is one point settled. But your happiness? Let us weigh the gain and the loss in wagering that God is. Let us estimate these two chances. If you gain, you gain all; if you lose, you lose nothing. Wager, then, without hesitation that He is.

“That is very fine. Yes, I must wager; but I may perhaps wager too much.” Let us see. Since there is an equal risk of gain and of loss, if you had only to gain two lives, instead of one, you might still wager. But if there were three lives to gain, you would have to play (since you are under the necessity of playing), and you would be imprudent, when you are forced to play, not to chance your life to gain three at a game where there is an equal risk of loss and gain. But there is an eternity of life and happiness. And this being so, if there were an infinity of chances, of which one only would be for you, you would still be right in wagering one to win two, and you would act stupidly, being obliged to play, by refusing to stake one life against three at a game in which out of an infinity of chances there is one for you, if there were an infinity of an infinitely happy life to gain. But there is here an infinity of an infinitely happy life to gain, a chance of gain against a finite number of chances of loss, and what you stake is finite.

Aimee emphasized the significance of Augustine’s view of women and purity (it’s a matter of the will and not the body). Mindi discussed her appreciation of how Augustine defended Christians (corporately and individually) against the pagans and did not blame them for not being holy enough or involved enough in their culture (more from her here). Jared had only read the first few pages and so mostly listened and questioned. Brent served as our fact – checker; he is better than Wikipedia. I made a few embarrassing blunders about Roman history but thoroughly enjoyed the chance to explore Augustine’s theology and the historical context of his work.

Next Friday we will gather again to discuss book two and hopefully have a few more join us.

This book has many elements that tend to set my teeth on edge: cries against a vast conspiracy, a shiny new cover, lots of praise for the author printed in it and an insistence that the vast majority have it wrong and only our author is standing for truth and reality.

And yet…it was a very compelling book. I have spent most of my “schooling” years outside of the system. I attended a tiny, private Christian school for a few years, was homeschooled through high school and though I graduated with a BA from college I did so in an aggressively independent way – testing out of fully a third of my college credits.

John Taylor Gatto writes of what he sees as the institutionalized horror of compulsory public education. His complaints are numerous but fall into three main areas. One: compulsory education fails to educate; students are more ignorant today than ever. Two: compulsory education is a tool of social engineering keeping the social classes seperated and opressed. Three: compulsory education destroys family, community, and religion. I won’t rehearse his arguments (the book is a mere 200 pages and readily available) but I will say this: I look forward to a future where we in America have many options for educating our children, where we excercise those options regularly and responsibly and where politics and bureaucracy have nothing to do with it. I won’t work for a political solution to this problem, trying to legislate my views, but I will simply work for solutions; teaching my own children, working to found alternative schools and talking about this subject whenever helpful.

I usually am delighted by Ignatius Press’ books. They publish high-quality and hard-to-find titles and, while they do print mostly (only?) paperbacks, all their bindings are sewn. However this book – those terrible middle ages: debunking the myths – was definitely a bit uneven. The topic was interesting and the writer obviously passionate but the prose was clunky and the reasoning easily drifted over the head (mine). The fifth chapter, on women, was fantastic. It has made me change my mind about whether or not I could have enjoyed living in another era. Turns out that the 20th century was not actually the first to recognize that women had brains. The “dark ages” for women were the 16th through the 19th centuries; not the 6th through the 15th.

The book has other high-points including a 40-years-early take down of Dan Brown. So do read it but don’t give up hope in the first few chapters.

The book was uniformly delightful. I enjoyed every page of it and highly recommend it to one and all. It is a slender volume and worth taking time over. I would read it slowly over the course of a few weeks if I were you.

I have now lined out my reading list for the next six weeks (until school starts).  I am only taking one lit course this semester and it is focused on Medieval Arthurian lit. Much fun! I will be trying to pre-read all of the assigned books – Malory, The Mabinogion, Geoffrey of Monmouth’s History of the Kings of Britain, The Complete Romances of Chretien De Troyes and multiple translations of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. I will also be trying to read some addtional literature including English Literature in the Sixteenth Century, The Allegory of Love, Medieval and Rennaisance Literature & The Discarded Image all by CS Lewis and Those Terrible Middle Ages by Pernoud and The Oxford Guide to Arthurian Literature and Legend.

I should be busy…

Our house came down with a nasty stomach flu early last week and while most of the nastier effects of that kind of thing were over by Tuesday, the weakness, weariness, and achyness continues yet today. I spent most of the week flat on my back and by Friday I could spend some of that time reading. Conveniently enough, a box of books arrived from my good friend Amazon that afternoon. I inhaled a Wodehouse and then settled in to read a slim paperback entitled Notes From the Tilt-A-Whirl(N.D. Wilson – Thomas Nelson 2009). This is a shocking and disruptive book. I am not certain who it’s intended audience is; Wilson’s fellow Christians, potential converts or the philosophical and religious opponents of Christianity. But whoever they are, they are in for quite the ride. I don’t know if it is his devastatingly rich prose – the metaphors just tumble off the page at you – or his unsettlingly frenetic view of the universe but reading this book is very much like eating quantities of funnel cake and corn-dogs and then going for a spin on the eponymous carnival ride. There is too much to take in (wait, he really believes God spoke Katrina into existence?), too many autobiographical details to absorb (he’s from Idaho? and he married a surfer? is that legal? she knows that Lewiston’s not much of a port city right?), and it’s all too quease-inducing (he’s fascinated with bugs, at ease with death and destruction), so let’s just say Notes From the Tilt-A-Whirl shouldn’t be read in the car, should be read in small chunks, and should be read by the strong constitutioned. Just the idea that Nietschze made Wilson laugh out loud will probably be unnerving to the Phil 101 types.

Now that I’ve gotten the warnings off my chest I should probably say something about what the book is. Well, it is an odd book. It is an observation of the world, and of the God who created it, structured around the cycle of the four seasons, as seen by a sunny disposition who is inclined to be amazed. It is a catalog of the wonders of our world, an analysis of who could possibly be responsible for it and a bit of autobiography for good measure. I’ve been reading Wilson’s work since he was penning short stories about Pookies with his sisters and this unexpected book is just what I would have expected from this unique and gifted author. I might be overstating things but it is just possible that if my generation is going to have it’s own C.S. Lewis his name is N.D. Wilson.

All that Professor Highet does is simply examine the history of man’s intellect, memory, and reason and from this make simple and reasonable predictions about what the future possibilities are. If you happen to be a bit down from reading too many apocolyptic novels (like, say, The Road) then Highet’s book will be an antidote. But beware, it will likely join other greats like The Abolition of Man, Jane Eyre and need to be read and reread every year.

I found the book difficult to read simply because of the tragedy of the story. Knowing what hundreds of years of epidemiology has taught us about the spread of the plague makes me want to reach through the pages and scream at 17th century Londoners “IT WAS THE RATS!!”

Since falling in love for the first time, five years ago, I have developed an incredible sensitivity to sadness, heartbreak and true tragedy in art. I find it impossible to sit through movies depicting war, infidelity or terminal illnesses. Books can make me cry now. Becoming a parent has only heightened this delicacy of feeling. Life is much more perilous than I used to feel or think. I once recklessly risked my life and sometimes even the lives of others. I drove aggressively, speeding, cornering too tightly, pushing the limits. I hiked, scrambled and climbed cliffs, dove into swift, deep rivers enjoying those moments on the edge, unsure of my grip, tasting the metallic after-flavor of adrenaline. Now, I could still do those things but can barely stand to see my husband taking much milder risks and have to discipline myself not to scream whenever my sons test their physical limits. I cannot imagine how I will manage when they are grown and pushing more serious boundaries.

All of this to say that A Journal of the Plague Year is sad and difficult but it should remind you to be grateful for 21st century Western medicine. Grateful for vaccines. Grateful for penicillin, IVs, X-rays, and all the other things that contribute to the dramatic lowering of infant mortality and increased life expectancy that we enjoy almost unconsciously.

I’ve been busy with many things this last week. Jared is ready to launch his new furniture line (Check it out HERE) and I’ve been doing all the writing for him, taking pictures for him, and helping him finalize ideas and decisions. We’ll be having a launch party a week from Friday to celebrate and at the party all the prototypes he built will be available at silent auction. They are the pieces he photographed for the website so what you see there is what you get if you win. And speaking of photographs, our friend Ted took some amazing pictures for the website and the brochure (coming soon) and they will be replacing the mediocre snaps up now.

I also sent in Chapter One of my book on Saturday night. Here’s hoping the editor at WWNorton likes it.

On Sunday night Quinn and I started on her dress. The fabric is LOVELY and very red and I’m nervous every time I cut into it. I might even share pictures if she lets me…

My sweet and lovely children have been lots of work lately but that’s been worth it because last night at the dinner table Alex made us say Grace over the meal six times. He holds out his hands to Jared and I and bows his head and closes his eyes and waits for you to pray. SO CUTE.

I’m going to make scones for the first time ever this morning. My lovely, sweet and pregnant friend is coming over and she was craving them. If they work, I’ll post the recipe here and over at The Complete Woman.

I want to review it.  I am, however, brain-dead.  I cannot seem to think of anything to write.  I planned my day very carefully trying to maximize my creativity and time during the boys’s nap and I got nothing.  The food, the timed coffee, the thoughtful morning…all shot.  I want to scream in frustration.  Or maybe just curl up with a good book…