Click here to read the entire article if you like, or just savor the excerpts that will follow in the series of posts I’m going to write in response to it. This is what I found when I went looking for a Catholic patron saint for mathematicians (St. Hubert of Liege, but for no reason I can find) or Catholic saints who were also mathematicians (there are none).
I found Brother Francis Maluf, M.I.C.M, instead, and this article, apparently a digest or transcription of one of his lectures, is an inspiration for someone in my new situation as a teacher of mathematics at a Catholic school. You see, my students who hate math would love Brother Francis and his mistrust of the subject.
Lest you think that Brother Francis does not know about that of which he speaks or writes, here’s a link to his bio. I’m not tangling with an untutored troglodyte here. Brother Francis has all my respect, I assure you. Sadly, he won’t be directly responding to me: he passed away in 2009.
Let’s start here:
“When not overdone, and when counterbalanced by the proper correctives from the other types of knowledge, geometry and arithmetic, as they used to be taught, cultivated a few desirable virtues of the mind like clarity and precision, and sharpened the mind for the perception of harmony, rhythm, and pattern in the study of nature and of Holy Scripture. But even then, many saints and sages warned against the excessive preoccupation with such studies, and especially against the seductive clarity of mathematics; for it is not enough for the mind to be accurate and clear; we are bound to ask “accurate and clear about what?”
As I have come to understand them, learning and then teaching math as I have during the latter part of Brother Francis’ career, arithmetic and geometry are portals into an intellectual world where Man, created in the image of God, can create. Man cannot create in the physical world God has given: he can only sub-create, as God has already created the substance of that world in concord with His purposes, which are subtle and powerful. Man may only manipulate that substance imperfectly, but Man may approach perfection more closely by devising perfect plans and exact models. Apparently, the creative aspects of number theory and geometry were not features of the courses as teachers once taught them in that time that Brother Francis bemoans.
Creativity is apparently not a virtue of the mind that emerges from arithmetic and geometry. Of course, Brother Francis seems to be very wary of the idea that people construct knowledge. The notion that no one person understands something in exactly the same way that someone else does seems not to be familiar to him; I venture to guess that he would object to it. In my experience, my students can learn a concept well enough to execute the associated skills and to support the learning of other concepts and yet never see the original concept exactly as I do. When I present a lesson to my students, I am not imprinting it upon their minds but giving them a chance to fashion a unique understanding of it that fits their experience and God-given gifts. Learning, even learning something known long before, is a creative activity every time it happens. This difference in premises is a key to understanding the disagreement I have with Brother Francis.
Why would saints and sages warn against the “seductive clarity” of mathematics? I suppose we ought to begin with the Pythagoreans, an offshoot of the cult of Pythagoras that continued its mathematical studies and austerities in the Mediterranean region well into the first millennium of Church history. Pythagoreans had a host of beliefs that the Church would not tolerate, not least a belief in reincarnation, which was the hallmark of the teaching of the original Pythagoras. Associating the Pythagoreans’ extensive mathematical preoccupations with heretical teachings surely did not help the standing of the discipline of mathematics, a subject already difficult to grasp because such invaluable tools as printing presses, variables, base ten place value, and calculus had not yet entered the European intellectual pageant, and wouldn’t until the Renaissance and Enlightenment.
I also discern in Brother Francis’ sermon against modern mathematics a hint of the same kind of mistrust that greeted Galileo Galilei’s teachings, incomplete as they were at the time, on what came to be known as astrophysics. We all know that the Church made kindling of his writings and a prisoner of the great scientist because he stated that certain things moved when the Church did not, and even more controversially intimated that the movements were regular, predictable, and systematic. The Church much preferred that Earth be the center of the Universe and that the Hand of God regulate the constant movements of the celestial bodies. The notion that God could be so subtly powerful as to implant an elegant physical system into His Universe which fulfilled His Will regarding the relation of the Earth to its neighbors was beyond their comprehension, learned as they were about such things as the power of God.
So, too, it is with Brother Francis. Here, I bring in a favorite writer, J.R.R. Tolkien. In his cosmological fable, Ainulindale, Tolkien tells the fictional story of how Middle Earth came to be. In that story, a being — Melkor — made powerful by the One – Iluvatar (all-father) — has evil designs on creating things himself and becoming a powerful lord over other beings, and injects those thoughts into his participation in the creation of Middle Earth. The One explains the futility of such desires to Melkor this way:
“Then Iluvatar spoke,and he said: ‘Mighty are the Ainur, and mightiest among them is Melkor; but that he may know, and all the Ainur, that I am Iluvatar, those things that ye have sung, I will show them forth, that ye may see what ye have done. And thou, Melkor, shalt see that no theme may be played that hath not its uttermost source in me, nor can any alter the music in my despite. For he that attempteth this shall prove but mine instrument in the devising of things more wonderful, which he himself hath not imagined.’ “
The devices of mathematics can’t take us from God, because all that is — including mathematics — originates with God. We might become obsessed and distracted with math, but no more so than with any other human pursuit, intellectual or otherwise. God, the Being That defines existence by being (Exodus 3:14) and thus is the Source or First Cause of all that is, conceived the rules and patterns of the Universe. Our ability to create and discern such patterns and systems using our imaginations and mathematics is part of that conception: God surely has a Purpose for it, subtle and elusive though it is.
I suppose the big difference — other than his superior training and experience — between Brother Francis and myself is that I am free of this strange apprehension about studies that seem to him to distract us from or not to be in harmony with the study of Nature or Scripture. Frankly, I don’t see how that even can be the case: if a mathematician, full of Christian faith, desires to study nature and Scripture, as everyone should, surely that means that the Christian mathematician will see mathematical “harmony, rhythm, and pattern” in the propositions of theology as well as in the elegance of nature. That is what makes a mathematician a mathematician: Brother Francis, despite his own mathematical training and experience, apparently by intent, avoided becoming a mathematician or at least taking up that rubric of perception.
If I did that, I’d say I missed a chance to observe and think about the world in a different way, but I wouldn’t say I happily avoided a chance to devalue the role of faith in my life. I find myself wondering what specific experience caused Brother Francis to see math this way even as he taught it. There might be a valuable lesson in that for me.
Lege, explora, cogita. Quaere verum.