Review: Beauty for Truth’s Sake

Beauty for Truths Sake

Beauty for Truth’s Sake, Stratford Caldecott, (foreword Ken Myers). Grand Rapids: Brazos Press, 2017 (my review is of the 2009 edition).

Summary: An argument for the unity of faith and reason, beauty and truth, the sciences and the humanities, and for the recovery of education as a lifelong pursuit of wisdom, both rooted in and eventuating in liturgical worship.

As one who has long worked around universities, the fragmentation of knowledge among the disparate disciplines is an established fact. Those who teach in the humanities, and in the sciences often hold each other in mutual suspicion if not contempt, and speak in languages often unintelligible to each other. One of the few things that unites a number of these people is a shared suspicion toward religious faith (sometimes, but not always, warranted by stupid or wicked things done in God’s name).

In this work, Stratford Caldecott contends for an ancient, and yet contemporary vision of a restored unity of knowledge that brings together arts and humanities, math and the sciences, the beautiful and the true, reason and faith in a “re-enchantment” of education that leads to wisdom, and worship. He writes in his Introduction:

“I believe it is possible to remain an active learner throughout life, and yet to maintain a moral compass in good working order. But vital though they are, adaptability and ethics are not enough by themselves. There is a structural flaw in our education that we need to overcome. It is related to a profound malaise in our civilization, which by progressive stages has slipped into a way of thinking and living that is dualistic in character. The divisions between arts and sciences, between faith and reason, between nature and grace, have a common root. In particular, our struggle to reconcile religious faith with modern science is symptomatic of a failure to understand the full scope of human reason and its true grandeur” (p. 12).

Caldecott would argue that our modern fragmented education divorces meaning from fact, dooming the humanities to solipsism and the sciences to sterility. He would argue, along with Dorothy Sayers (in The Lost Tools of Learning) for a restoration of the trivium of grammar, rhetoric, and dialectic, and an adaptation of the quadrivium (arithmetic, geometry, astronomy and music, expanded for additional disciplines). He believes that the key to the unity of these disciplines is beauty, which serves as a pointer to truth, as well as goodness. He connects the recovery of the poetic imagination with its focus on symbol to the recognition of the symbolic in the scientific study of the natural world, opening us to the wonder of what is beyond. He explores the beauty and symbolism in math and geometry, the structure and beauty of music, and concludes with how this “re-enchanted” cosmology finds its consummation in liturgy.

What I most appreciated in this work is the sense of the recovery of wonder in our inquiry. In the modern academy, it seems that one of the prices paid for advancing in proficiency, whether in “getting good data” in science, or in applying critical theory to historical events or literary works is the loss of wonder–the joy of a good story, admiration for a historical figure, appreciation of the structure of the cosmos. Certainly this is not always so, but to see the wide-eyed wonder of young scholars replaced by cynicism is grievous whenever it happens, and I cannot help but think that the educational flaws Caldecott critiques contribute to this loss.

Where Caldecott may be critiqued is in his “Christian Platonism” that views our language, our numbers, our physical world pointing to a world beyond–the world of forms, ideas, perhaps all found in the mind or person of God. I have to confess that I don’t have the philosophical wherewithal to critique or defend this idea, and I haven’t thought of things in quite these terms. I do believe that all human artistry, and the artistry of the physical world is a reflection of the Great Artist in a general sense. But I’m not as sure about the effort to “symbolize” all physical reality as a signifier of transcendent reality. There is something that feels as if it could be forced to me, akin to those who try to find some spiritual lesson in everything and sometimes reach some pretty wacky conclusions. I think I’d rather be open to beauty where I find it, to be attentive to what it points toward, and aware that we sing God’s songs, and think his thoughts after Him.

I’m not sure if that makes me a Christian Platonist or not. And perhaps that points to the goodness of this book, that it is making me think and re-examine my own understanding. It makes me think about how I relate goodness, truth, and beauty, how it is that I can claim reason and faith are not at odds and that there is an underlying unity to all knowledge. It poses the question to me in my work of how I can claim to suggest that the integration of faith, learning, and practice are a possibility in the modern university, and not just a slogan. Most of all, it inspires me afresh to think of how wonder might lead to doxology.

____________________________

Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from the publisher. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own.

 

What Mr. Erickson Knew

Julian_fractal

Julian Fractal, By GARDEN [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

One of my favorite high school teachers was Mr. Erickson. He taught math, and also an introductory computer science class in the early days of computers. I did pretty well in math, even though it wasn’t a favorite subject. Mostly, I enjoyed Mr. Erickson because he enjoyed math (and some corny jokes)–it wasn’t just numbers and equations and laws to him, but rather something beautiful that could describe the order of the world and translate “the music of the spheres” into an equation.

I haven’t thought about Mr. Erickson for a long time. But two occurrences in my life recently have brought him to mind. One is that my son, a software engineer for a local company spent his vacation at a conference in Waterloo, Canada exploring the intersection of math and art. Back in elementary school, he had a teacher kind of like Mr. Erickson, who introduced him to fractals. He has never lost his fascination with this geometric patterns that often look like objects in the natural world (and sometimes not) that can be described in mathematical equations and produce repeating patterns at smaller and smaller scales. He has a shelf of graduate level texts at home on fractals (guess what is on his Christmas wish list!) and even has several fractal-related publications (as well as a work of fiction) you can purchase. The conference brought mathematicians and artists together to explore the connection between these two seemingly unrelated aspects of life–in visual art, music, and even opera and poetry from what I’m told.

The other occurrence is reading Stratford Caldecott’s Beauty for Truth’s SakeCaldecott argues that one of the great deficits in our modern educational program is the divorce of the liberal arts from math and the sciences.  This reflects a loss of vision for the unity and interconnectedness of all truth, and perhaps belief in the One in whom they are connected. In a chapter on math, he explores numbers and their expressions geometrically, their significance in a variety of areas of life (musical chords, the use of numerical and geometric properties by visual artists, recurring numbers in the Bible, and the ways mathematics maps onto the world, and more). Somehow, numbers and equations connect to imagination, and reflect beauty. Why is that?

Math and beauty? What Caldecott, Mr. Erickson, and my son all seem to get that I think I’ve lost sight of is the beauty that lies hidden in the equations. In my world, math gets reduced to spreadsheets, financial reports, columns of figures, raw data. Perhaps I’ve bought into that divorce between math and the world of the imagination and the beauty of the world. Perhaps it is time to recall the joy Mr. Erickson had when he explained the beauty in the equations. Perhaps…