Beauty and the Mathematical Beast

[WARNING: This is in no way my conclusion on the nature of beauty, specifically beauty manifested in music. However, these are some of my initial thoughts on the subject. Ready or not, here I come!]

Once upon a time, some ancient Greek philosophers and a not-so-ancient scientist named Keppler postulated that the universe is governed by mathematical relationships. And when they said "universe" they meant everything, from atoms to planets. Even music.

This led to the idea that the apex of musical beauty is harmony.

What did they mean by "harmony?" More math. (ya' just gotta' love the enthusiasm of those mathematicians ...)

Basically, they believed that beautiful music should be regulated by some sort of mathematical relationship. The end. Or at least, that's the version of the story I was told.

My initial reaction? "Uh... ok."

My ten-seconds-later reaction? "Hey, wait a minute!"

I'm a grandchild of Modernism (I mean that in the best sense), so I definitely believe that the material universe can be explained by mathematics/reason/logic. In other words, I believe that music can be translated into math.

However, I'm also a child of Post-Modernism (I mean that also in the best sense), so I rebel against the idea that the magic of music can be reduced down to math.

I don't doubt that the beauty of music can be represented through mathematical principles. But I don't think that mathematical relationships are the source of the magic of music.

Nope; I believe the actual beauty of music is found outside of the math.

But what does that mean for music producers/consumers in our world? I mean, establishing that the source of beauty is otherworldly doesn't change the fact that math is a means to representing/realizing the beauty of a piece of music here on earth. The significance of this distinction is that it demonstrates that

Beauty is not subject to Math, but Math is subject to Beauty.

Sure, music can be translated into math, just like my thoughts can be translated into words. But just like words, in and of themselves, can't evaluate the truth of my thoughts, so math can't evaluate the beauty of music.

So exactly how is one supposed to evaluate Beauty? Er ... um ... goodness, look at the time!

P.E.P. Chronicles, Part 2

As much as I like the idea of human freedom, I can't accept open theism.

I can't accept the idea that our wills determine the ultimate outcome.

Why? Because that means it would be possible for all humans to rebel. It means life is one big cosmic experiment that just happened to come up sunny-side up, but could have been a total flop.

I just don't think God would have created something that could have ended in complete failure.

Why? Because that would reflect badly on God. Or would it? Is it neccessarily a poor reflection on Him if people refuse to give Him glory?

No; He doesn't need our praise. He already has infinite glory. And infinity is a number unaffected by winning or losing a few points here and there. Hmmm... not sure if the mathematicians would agree with that statement or not ...

The P.E.P. Chronicles, Part 1

So I'm taking a class on the Problem of Evil and Suffering right now. Aka, the Problem of Evil and Pain ... P.E.P. I'm pretty sure my thoughts are going to evolve this semester, so I'm just going to record my initial thoughts now and update as things progress.

Here's what it comes down to:

We believe God is good and yet we know He allows suffering/evil to occur.

All Christians agree on that. Furthermore, they all agree that He must have a good reason for doing so, that it must bring about some sort of greater good.

The two points of contention are:

A) How responsible is He?

B) What is this greater good for which He allows suffering?

There's two main options.

Option A: He's ultimately responsible; He ordained it. We don't exactly know what that greater good will look like, but all suffering/evil is necessary to achieve it.

Option B: He's not totally responsible; He only allowed it. The greater good is freely-chosen relationships between humans and God. Suffering/evil itself is unnecessary, but the option for suffering/evil is necessary to achieve the greater good.

Obviously, these ideas have major implications. Here's some of them.

Option A:

• God's goodness is not what we thought it was.
• We don't really know what good is, or at least, not what the greatest good is.
• This greater good requires suffering/evil to be the greatest good.

Option B:

• God's sovereignty is not what we thought it was.
• We know what the greatest good is: freely chosen relationship with God.
• The greatest good does not require evil to be achieved.

Ok, now it's time for me to express my initial reactions to these ideas:

I hate the idea that evil is necessary to achieve the greatest good. I would rather be responsible for the evil in our world than God. Because one of the things I love most about God is that He is good; that He hates evil more than I do. To me, the idea that goodness requires evil destroys my trust in God's goodness. At that point, I don't care that God is sovereign. That makes me trust Him even less.

I guess what it really comes down to is whether or not I can accept the idea that the Greatest Good requires Evil.

The Sunday School Answer

I just realized why I don't like it when people say God isn't always logical.

Because I believe God is logic.

Don't get me wrong; I didn't say Logic is God, but that God is logic, or at the very least, logical.

Why do I believe this?

Logos.

What's Logos? Don't quote me, but as I understand the ancient Greeks, Logos is the primevial and fundamental Reason for and Reason of this world. Meaning it's what purposes and governs this world. And according to John 1:1-2, Jesus is Logos.

So, to be even clearer, the reason I believe God is logic is because

Jesus.

My Oddball Status

Is it geeky that I love listening to the same song over and over? That I relish a silly little, nonsensical song like "Fireflies"? That I think it's beautiful? That it stirs a noble theme within me ... even though the lyrics are ridiculous?

Is it nerdy that I get caught up in movies? That I routinely discuss movie plot lines and analyze characters? That I find undersaturated images and focus pulls deeply satisfying? That they speak beauty to my soul?

Is it dorky that I laugh outloud while walking down the street by myself? That I think puns are clever and funny? That I find humor in almost any situation? That I sense irony and mirth in life's awkward and trivial occurances?

Is it weird that sometimes I just want to stop and drink in the world around me because I see exquisite epic-ness around me everywhere?

Call me abnormal, but I think such geekiness, dorkiness, nerdiness, and weirdo-ness makes for a much richer experience of life.

Not that changes my oddball status. *Sigh* Well, you can't win 'em all.

The Times, They Are A Changin'

What is change? How on earth does change work?

Think about it; how can something that doesn't exist suddenly change and suddenly be something that does exist? What does that transition look like? Is it possible to be half existing and half not existing? Or is there no in-between mode, only the existence or non-existence? What moves it from one to another? For it certainly does not move on it's own ... does it?

Perhap that there's the link between the physical and the spiritual. Perhaps it's God who moves everything, who causes change, and in doing so involves Himself constantly in our world.

The ancient Greek philosophers denied that change exists. But change does exist; to quote C.S. Lewis, "to be in time means to change." That's how our universe functions; that's how our God functions. The infinite (God) lives by expressing itself in the ever changing finite (creation and involvment in our world). And in our case, the finite (the creature) lives through the infinite (Creator) carrying it along through infinite finite possibilities (Time, Change).

The Artist and the Philosopher

I find two different orientations competing within myself. No, I'm not referring to the Old Man and the New Man of Romans 7, though I feel that struggle too.

Instead, I'm refering to the struggle between the Artist and the Philosopher in me.

Right now, it's 5-9, with the Philosopher in the lead.

Ha-ha. That was a joke. Sort of. My inner Philosopher is a rather buff fellow who definitely has the upper hand right now. Not that the Artist is a pansy ... she's just a lot younger and not quite as experienced or self-assured.

In other, less metaphorical words, I've just recently begun harnessing and disciplining this artistic side of me, while the philosophical side of me has been developing since I was young. Anyways, watching them struggle to work together has taught me some important life principles concerning the relationship between the Head and the Heart, and it's affect on the Will.

Traditionally, the Artist has represented passions, feelings, and emotions. In a word,

the Artist = Heart.

Meanwhile, the Philosopher has historically represented ideas, facts, and logic. In a word,

the Philosopher = Head.

But I've realized that neither the Philosopher nor the Artist is totally devoid of characterstics of the other. That is, the Artist is not all feeling and no thinking. Neither is the Philosopher all thought and no passion. When I'm creating, my first instinct is to get out my laptop and sketch out an outline in Microsoft Word. Likewise, when I'm philosophizing, my voice changes pitch and my hands jerk up and down emphatically.

Neither art nor philosophy was meant to be either soley passion-filled or logic-based. Both must involve passion and logic.

Similarly, neither the Heart nor the Head can truly function apart from the functioning of the other. Or at least, neither can lead the Will singlehandedly. That's because we're wired to only act out of our experience.

When we KNOW something in our mind, and FEEL it in our heart, we EXPERIENCE it. And when we experience a truth, our will inevitably kicks in.

We can't sacrifice either the knowing or the feeling of something; doing so cheats us of the experience of the truth and circumvents our wills from following truth.

So to sum up, let the wedding bells ring; the Philosopher and the Artist are getting married ...

Does the End Truly Justify the Means?

WARNING: This post is not neccessarily a well-thought out theory, as much as my musings and reactions to various ideas concerning the problem of evil and the glory of redemption.

I recently heard a sermon on John 11:35. For those of you unfamiliar with that verse, it's the shortest verse in the Bible, consisting of two words: "Jesus wept." Context? A good friend of Jesus' named Lazarus had just died. Jesus knew that the situation was going to end alright, because He was planning to resurrect Lazarus from the dead. Yet He still cried when He got to Lazarus' tomb.

He was mourning the tragedy of the moment, even while knowing the glory of the future.

That got me thinking about the ultimate story. See, the whole of human history can be divided into three parts. I'll give a quick recap, but see my post on the Ultimate Story for more details.

Act I: Creation. Life is good; we're whole and good creatures.
Act II: Fall. Life is bad; we sin and are therefore broken, evil creatures.
Act III: Redemption. Life is good once more; Jesus saves us and we're made whole and good again.

Anyways, thinking about Jesus crying over His friend's death, though He knew His friend would rise again made me think about the proper response to Act II of the ultimate story.

We cannot diminish the horror of the second act for the glory of the third act.

Sometimes people say that you're stronger after you're broken. But that implies that your state of wholeness/goodness in the third act is greater than it was in the first act. I'm not sure if that's even possible. How can a glued-together vase be stronger than a whole vase?

Furthermore, that statement implies that the second act was neccessary for the third act [Note that I'm taking this from a fatalistic point of view, one which doesn't allow for free-will]. And that is something I have a hard time with accepting. After all, wasn't the second act, by definition, something which should never have happened? So to say that it was neccessary to achieve the third act is saying that it should have happened. Which is a contradiction. Moreover, my heart rebels against such an idea.

Why must something perfectly beautiful and pure end? That's the issue, period.

The only consolation I can find is the idea that we truly do have free will, that it was we who chose Act II, rather than God. Therefore, Act II was not neccessary to create Act III beyond that it was neccessary to allow us to be creatures living in Act I and Act III.