3, 2, 1: Chance, Fate and Free Will

"Free Will" by Mark Balaguer: did I choose to buy it?

In the book “The Forgotten Soldier” Guy Sajer describes a moment when his rifle company is sheltering from Soviet artillery and guns in a concrete storage cellar. An order comes down to attack. The Top Sergeant tells the men to count off by threes. Sajer is a One.  The sergeant tells the Threes to get ready to attack.  In two minutes they run from the basement. In another ten minutes they are all dead or wounded.

The Twos are next. As they run into the hail of Soviet fire, Sajer thinks about what it means that the Threes went first.  Why them? Usually the Ones would go first and he would be dead.  His assault wave took the Soviet stronghold in the middle of the village.  After this brief victory, the Germans would continue the year-long retreat to Germany and utter defeat. 

Sajer survived that day and the war because he was a One on the day the Threes went first.  Not surprisingly, Sajer sees his life as dominated by fate rather than free will. As a soldier in a retreating Army, his life is a series of terrible moments. In another scene, he describes the relief of climbing into a truck after 20 miles of marching. The relief turns into terror when the convoy is attacked by Soviet fighter-bombers. Then there are all the horrors of his one leave to go home.

In the military, I have met more fatalists than in civilian life, or at least people who are more open about their belief.  The most usual expression of this belief was, “If a bullet has mine name on it, there’s nothing I can do about it.” I can understand this belief, but so much of the training we had was how to avoid the bullets, bombs and rockets that were aimed at us. 

For a year during my tour in West Germany in the 70s, I taught a monthly class in how to survive what are now called WMDs.  I shared the Army’s best advice on how to live if our position was hit with chemical, biological or nuclear weapons.  If it is somehow possible to survive a nuke, can there really be just one bullet with NEIL on it? Or would it be my full name? When I was a tank commander, would it be an armor-piercing cannon shell with my name on it?

All my life, the question of Free Will versus Fate has been in the back of my mind. Early in my life, as well as I could understand the question, I would have said fate guided my life.  After I joined the military, life seemed to be a series of endless possibilities.  I went to college, picked a job I liked, had kids, became a late-life athlete, traveled to every inhabited continent, a paragon of choice.

Last year, I read a book titled “Free Will” by Mark Balaguer.  I bought the book in the MIT Bookstore when I was in Cambridge for the annual Ig Nobel Prize Ceremony. I had an hour so I went to the bookstore and bought the book on a whim.  Was it a whim? It is a subject that interested me all my life. I went to a bookstore that had only academic books. Was fate lurking in my mind?

Whether picking the book was fate or free well, Balaguer, helped me to see that the gap between Sajer and I, between those who believe an invisible fate controls their life and those who believe everything is free, is not so great as I thought. 

Balaguer looks at both sides of the question from a philosophical viewpoint, and then from a practical viewpoint.  How many choices can one person actually make in a day-week-month-life?  Not that many.  The human condition, circumstances, lifespan, and every previous choice we have made, combine to constrain all of our future choices. So real choice is relatively rare. 

Each time I have made a big choice, I have accepted a thousand small restraints. When I decided to re-enlist in the Army National Guard, one weekend a month was outside of my control. Then two weeks in the summer. Then a year in Iraq.  A lot of choices I might have had, I no longer had. Certainly in Iraq, I had no choice in what to wear, where to live, when to eat, and so many other things. 

I don’t know if there is an answer to the question of fate or free will, except in very specific circumstances.  But it is a question I seem fated to keep thinking about.

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The Forgotten Soldier: "Surely the war must end soon."

The Forgotten Soldier, a memoir of World War II

In the middle of Guy Sajer's story of war on the Eastern Front in World War II, he writes of his one-and-only leave during four years of fighting. In the spring of 1943, he was given 14 days leave that does not start until the railway station at Posnan, 200 miles east of Berlin. That's important because his journey began in Kharkov, more than 1000 miles further east.

Before, during and after the leave. People around Sajer from Russia to Berlin say, "Surely the war must end soon." "Surely the war can't go on like this." Of course, the war does go on, and on, until finally Nazi Germany is crushed between two massive Allied armies.

Sajer spends his first months of war in a transport unit trying to bring supplies to Stalingrad. The city fell before the snowbound trucks of Sajer's unit could reach Stalingrad.  In the way of all armies since the Roman Empire and before, the front line troops blamed the supply troops for their defeat.

Sajer volunteers to be a front-line infantryman with an elite division. Part of the offer by the officers asking for volunteers is a fourteen-day leave.  Sajer volunteers and gets his leave.

His goal is to go home and visit his family in Alsace, France, 500 miles west of Berlin. The train he is on west of Berlin is stopped when the town ahead of them is bombed by the allies. Sajer and everyone else on the train helps to clear the tracks. When they get to the station, Sajer is told his destination is too far from his unit and he has to go back.

He decides to return to Berlin. He visits the family of his best friend who was killed on the road to Stalingrad. While he is waiting to see his friend's parents, he meets Paula and falls deeply in love with her. They spend every moment they can together during the rest of Sajer's leave.

The most intense moments they share are during bombing raids. In a night raid that hits the neighborhood they are in, they hide in a shelter, then help to care for the wounded when the all-clear sirens sound. In the shelter, terrified mothers say,
"Surely the war must end soon."

Later they are near Templehof Airport on a lovely spring day, when the airport itself is the target of a daylight bombing raid. There are no shelters nearby and they hide in a fold in the ground as Eighth Air Force bombers reduce Templehof to rubble.  As they help the wounded after they raid, they tell each other, "Surely the war must end soon."

It doesn't. The war drags on and on until crippled Berlin is fully destroyed and the Nazi army retreats all the way from Russia back to Germany. Sajer goes back to his unit. The lovers write to each other, but never see each other again.

Sajer records all of the deep emotion he feels, and the reaction when the older soldiers in his unit find out he fell in love on leave.  They needle him and tell him he has a thousand miles to travel back to the front lines and he can fall in love on the way. 

Sajer conveys very well the hope that wells up inside people who have suffered. "Surely we have suffered enough," They say. "Surely this will end." But it does not. The suffering of individual men and women and children is never a priority of the leaders who want victory.  A year later, after a victory in which they hold the advancing Soviet Armies, young soldiers like Sajer--he is then 19--start to talk about how the war must end soon and they will all go home.

I read all this book 42 years ago as a 24-year-old tank commander in Germany on the East-West Border. I did not remember the leave from forty years ago. I remembered much of the book, but not the leave.  This time reading, mid-tour leave was part of my experience, part of my year in Iraq.  It struck me how different it was to come home to a completely peaceful country.

The other deep irony of the leave was the way that Paula's parents and the people Sajer stayed with were worried the young couple was moving too quickly.  They were worried about the young couple doing the "right thing."

By the time of the leave in 1943, Nazi armies had already deported and slaughtered millions of Jews. They had killed millions more civilians in pitiless air raids on civilian targets and armored warfare.

It is painful for me to read how people could be concerned with moral questions while German soldiers and German policemen drafted into military service had already shot more than two million Jews and thrown them into pits and were sending others to death camps for slaughter on an industrial scale.

But tradition has always blinded people in this very way. So the Berliners could be concerned about what a Good German would do at the same time German soldiers were machine gunning children.

In America, the people who owned slaves went to Church and told their children to behave even while they, just like the Nazis, believed people who lived among them were less than human and could be tortured and denied freedom for their entire lives, and the lives of their children.  The American segregation in the Jim Crow South that followed the end of slavery was Hitler's model of making an underclass of Jews. Hitler started that segregation immediately, and quickly went past oppression to slavery and murder.

The Church in Germany, like the Church in America, was complicit in the terrible plans. The American Church twisted the Bible into saying Black people were less than human.  The German Church, Evangelical and Catholic, expelled Jewish convert pastors and then Jewish Church members within the first two years of Hitler taking power. The German Church, like the slavery Evangelical Church in the South, supported the racism of their governments.

This time re-reading Guy Sajer, the most painful passages are not about the war, but about what was happening "back home." 

Soldiers Under Any Flag Can Be Great Warriors: The Forgotten Soldier

 A 17-Year-Old draftee 

on the Eastern Front

for the entire war. 

I just started re-reading "The Forgotten Soldier." First published in English in 1971, the book is a memoir by a 17-year-old French boy drafted into the German Army in 1942.  The book is 600 pages of wrenching details about the life of a German soldier on the Eastern Front for nearly the entire war.

Though he had no choice about serving, Guy Sajer was scorned when he tried to go home after the war.  He suffered cold and every sort of misery and finally defeat, then came home to rejection by family and friends.  At the end of World War II, Guy Sajer was just 21 years old and a veteran of nearly four years of continuous combat with a losing army. He was on his way to the front when news reached his convoy of the Russian victory over the German 6th Army at Stalingrad.

I read this book in 1977 when I was a 24-year-old tank commander in West Germany, waiting for a million-man Soviet Army to invade Western Europe starting in Fulda and leaving me and and everyone in 4th Brigade, 4th Infantry Division dead on the field just west of the Fulda Gap.

Reading this book helped me to understand how the southern men I served with could venerate soldiers who fought to keep other men enslaved.  It was clear from this memoir, that a soldier can be a hero in a bad cause.

In 2017 when I visited the German Military Cemetery at Normandy, I thought of Guy Sajer--a kid drafted into a losing cause who serves with honor and heroism until the end.  I honor him as a man while knowing the flag that he served under is a symbol of hatred.

After the war, Sajer became a comics artist, creating comics under his own name and pen names.  He is 94 years old and lives in Paris.

I will be writing more about specific parts of the book.  Anyone interested in the life of a soldier in combat, especially the life of a soldier in a losing cause, this book is a haunting reminder of how terrible war is.

“What happened next? I retain nothing from those terrible minutes except indistinct memories which flash into my mind with sudden brutality, like apparitions, among bursts and scenes and visions that are scarcely imaginable. It is difficult even to even to try to remember moments during which nothing is considered, foreseen, or understood, when there is nothing under a steel helmet but an astonishingly empty head and a pair of eyes which translate nothing more than would the eyes of an animal facing mortal danger. There is nothing but the rhythm of explosions, more or less distant, more or less violent, and the cries of madmen, to be classified later, according to the outcome of the battle, as the cries of heroes or of murderers. And there are the cries of the wounded, of the agonizingly dying, shrieking as they stare at a part of their body reduced to pulp, the cries of men touched by the shock of battle before everybody else, who run in any and every direction, howling like banshees. There are the tragic, unbelievable visions, which carry from one moment of nausea to another: guts splattered across the rubble and sprayed from one dying man to another; tightly riveted machines ripped like the belly of a cow which has just been sliced open, flaming and groaning; trees broken into tiny fragments; gaping windows pouring out torrents of billowing dust, dispersing into oblivion all that remains of a comfortable parlor...” 
― Guy Sajer, The Forgotten Soldier

And about how war can tear up our souls:

“Abandoned by a God in whom many of us believed, we lay prostrate and dazed in our demi-tomb. From time to time, one of us would look over the parapet to stare across the dusty plain into the east, from which death might bear down on us at any moment. We felt like lost souls, who had forgotten that men are made for something else, that time exists, and hope, and sentiments other than anguish; that friendship can be more than ephemeral, that love can sometimes occur, that the earth can be productive, and used for something other than burying the dead.”
― Guy Sajer, The Forgotten Soldier

Basic Training to Combat Deployment: Just 37 Years!

C-130 Hercules: I flew on one of these on my first military 

flight in 1972 and in Iraq 37 years later.

All my life I have been late doing things:

• Nine years after high school gradation, I went to college. 
• Many kids learn to swim shortly after learning to walk. I learned to swim when I was 59 years old.  
• Ten years ago today, February 1, 2009, I was flying to Fort Sill, Oklahoma, on my way to Iraq. It had not occurred to me before that I was leaving for my first combat deployment 37 years after I started basic training on February 1, 1972.  

I enlisted during the Vietnam War, but the war ended and I never went to that one.  In 1976, I went to West Germany and served on the border in the Cold War, but thankfully, that war never happened.  I left the Army in 1980 to go to college.

Then in 2007, I re-enlisted in the Army National Guard and ten years ago today was on my  way to Iraq.

I connected the two dates because basic training and the trip to Iraq both began with saying goodbye to my family and flying away.

The very first flight in my life was the flight from Boston to San Antonio for Basic Training.  That first flight gave me a love for flying that led me to travel every chance I could on military flights.  For $10 I could fly across the nation or across an ocean.

But it was funny to think that the gap between starting Basic Training and serving in a war was 37 years.  I went to Basic at 18 years old and to Iraq at 55.

Most people had long retired at the age where my career hit one of its big milestones.

By the time I went to Iraq, I had three college degrees, but learning to swim was still four years in my future.  And it's only in the past year that I started to meditate and practice Yoga.

Who knows what I'll learn or do this year?

Happy February 1! It's a big day for me.

Back at Jew: Changing My Dog tags Back After Almost 50 Years

My first and current dog tags. Bottom line is JEWISH.

In February 1972, I got my first set of dog tags at Basic Training.  Most people never change their dog tags.  The information on them: 

Name,

Service Number,

Blood Type,

Religion

This information does not change for most people. In fact, most soldiers could go to their grave with their original set of dog tags around their neck, whether they die on the battlefield at 19 or they die reliving one last memory at 99.

I am on my fourth set of dog tags.

In 1972, in addition to my name, service number and blood type, the two stamped metal tags identified me as Jewish.  At the time, I knew I was Jewish in some sense, not so much in others.

I was born in Beth Israel Hospital in Boston, the son of a Jewish veteran of World War II. He was the fourth of six sons of Hyman and Esther Gussman. They escaped the pogroms in Odessa, Russia, in 1900 and came to America.  My mother was not Jewish. So to some Jews, I’m not Jewish—a Jewish mother makes a Jew.

To most gentiles, I’m definitely a Jew. I was Jewish enough to get called a Kike once in a while as a kid and to get beaten up in the fifth grade by some Catholic boys who told me I killed Jesus.  I didn’t remember killing Jesus, but they insisted with their fists. 

At age 13, I had a Bar Mitzvah, but the six months before the ceremony and the day of the ceremony were the only times I was in the Synagogue in my very secular life.

By the time I was 18 and on the way to basic training, I was vaguely agnostic.  I knew nothing of the Holocaust at the time, my family did not talk about it, so I did not realize I was Jewish enough to be sent to Auschwitz. For that I needed only one Jewish grandparent. I had two. As a matter of fact, I had no idea I could had the “Right of Return” to Israel.  If you are Jewish enough for a Nazi to kill you, you are Jewish enough for Israel to accept you.

The next year I thought about faith for the first time as I recovered from a missile explosion that left me blind and with other injuries.  I believed in God before I got my sight back. I started going to a Baptist Church in Utah near the base where I was stationed.  In 1974, my sight restored, I left the Air Force. 

In 1975, I decided to re-enlist in the Army. I got new dog tags.  All the information was the same except the last line said Christian. 

I kept those dog tags until 1984 when I got out, thinking I was done with the military.

Then in 2007, I re-enlisted. I got new dog tags. This time the last line of my dog tags said Presbyterian.  Not that the difference mattered much.  Dog tags are used to identify your body if you are dead, or to know what kind of blood you need or which chaplain should be called to your bedside if you are unable to talk. At the time of my enlistment I was a member of a Presbyterian Church, so that was the “bottom line” of my dog tags.

In 2013, I re-enlisted again. This time, I was going to deploy to Afghanistan with an Infantry Brigade. The deployment was cancelled. In 2014, after the deployment to Afghanistan was cancelled, I started planning a bicycle trip across Russia.  The trip was supposed to be a ride to memorialize my grandfather’s nine-month trek north from Odessa to Finland to escape the Tsar’s Army.

I wore the Presbyterian dog tags until I got out for the last time in May of 2016.  Later that year, Trump got elected President and put white nationalist Steve Bannon in the White House. Racism and anti-Semitism suddenly had a Presidential Seal, so I switched the trip to visiting Holocaust sites and memorials.

The Star of David worn by German Jews under the Nazis

I started feeling Jewish.  And I was feeling betrayed. The country I defended, that I fought for elected an open racist, proud racist. After an entire life of being a soldier and never protesting, I started protesting every week.

The next summer, in 2017, I rode a bicycle from Belgrade, Serbia, to Lviv, Ukraine, visiting Holocaust sites and memorials.  Then I went to Germany, France and Israel, visiting more Concentration Camps and Holocaust Memorials. 

Nazis and racists with rebel flags 

marching together in Charlottesville, Va.

I came back home in July. In August, Nazis marched in Charlottesville, chanting “Blood and Soil” at night, then murdering and maiming the next day.  In the following week, the U.S. President was unable to condemn Nazis.   

After Charlottesville, I was adrift spiritually.  In December of 2017, I started attending a local Synagogue.  Here is the story of how I got to the Synagogue.

This year, I made more changes in my life. I started doing Yoga; I meditate; I go to weekly prayer and Torah Study at the Synagogue, most recently I started keeping a thankfulness journal along with meditation.

In July, I rode to Boston to attend a picnic. I started listening to a podcast about the founding of Israel. In July, I got a new set of dog tags. They are easy to buy on line. Like my first set of dog tags, the dog tags I wear now say JEWISH (Dog tags are stamped in ALL CAPS).

After the shooting in Pittsburgh, I followed news reports closely until I heard why the gunman attacked the Synagogue.  The shooting was in the morning. By 3pm I knew in the words of the murderer why he did it. He believed the lie Trump was telling about the caravan being an invasion force. Trump’s lie led the angry racist in Pittsburgh to commit murder.

And yet, that same evening and every day after until the election, Trump kept telling the same lie at his Hillbilly Nuremberg rallies.

My dog tags reflect something of who I was and am, but dog tags have no nuance.  The 1972 dog tags were an answer to a question by a supply clerk:  “Religion?” They did not reflect my discomfort with being Jewish and how happy I was to just be another soldier.

My current dog tags are still just stamped metal. They simply hang on a chain. They look the same as in the 1970s, but now they I want to be identified with others like me: Jews who could be attacked at any time for who we are and what we believe.

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Podcast on the Cold War Talks Tanks

My M60A1 "Patton" tank in the Colorado desert in 1976. 

Today I was the guest on "Cold War Conversations History Podcast," a podcast produced in the United Kingdom and available on iTunes or through their web page.

The podcast covers life in East Germany, life in divided Berlin, East German soccer, the SR71 spy plane, the threat of nuclear war, and even owning a Cold War submarine.

I found out about the podcast from Bob Mares who administers the "Cold War Veterans, Weapons, and Equipment" group on Facebook.

In this episode we talk about tanks and my best day in the Army, when I fired Distinguished in annual tank gunnery at Fort Carson, Colorado, in 1976.  In a month I will be on again talking about life as a tank commander in Cold War West Germany.

Here's the link to the podcast.

Meeting Gil Hoffman, Israeli Podcaster

Gil Hoffman, politics reporter at the Jerusalem Post and

Host of "Inside Israel Today."

On Monday night I heard Gil Hoffman speak in Lancaster, Pa., at Congregation Shaarai Shomayim, the synagogue where I have been going to Torah Study and Minyan for the last year. I have been listening to Hoffman’s podcast on The Land of Israel Network for a little more than a year. 

Hoffman is a political reporter for the Jerusalem Post and one of eight hosts on The Land of Israel Network. They post a new podcast almost every day (except Shabbat) from one of the hosts. Hoffman’s podcast is titled “Inside Israel Today.” The other podcasts cover the history of Israel, politics, faith, Torah study, and more politics.

How does one become a fan of an Israeli podcast network?  Recommendation from a good friend is the way many people find a podcast they love. That was true in my case, although more than a little ironic. 

My path to following The Land of Israel Podcast began on Friday, August 11, 2017, when I saw Nazis marching on an American campus chanting “Blood and Soil” and “Jews will not replace us.”  The next day, the Nazis and their white nationalist allies murdered a woman and maimed innocent people on the streets of Charlottesville. 

A few days after Charlottesville, after hearing the President refuse to condemn Nazis, I called my best friend Cliff to talk about what happened. Cliff is a monk in a monastery in Germany. We were roommates on the Cold War U.S. Military Base in West Germany in the late 1970s.  I left the Army to go to college. He stayed and became Bruder Timotheus. 

Cliff travels to Israel as part of his ministry. He suggested I listen to Ari Abramowitz and Jeremy Gimpel, two Rabbis who host the “Israel Inspired” podcast on The Land of Israel Network.  I listened. They disagreed about Charlottesville and Trump. I liked the podcast, even if I disagreed with Ari Abramowitz. So I listened to the other podcasts on the network including those by Gil Hoffman, Josh Hasten, Rav Mike Feuer and Eve Harrow. 

I started learning about Israel politics from Gil Hoffman and Josh Hasten.  From Rav Mike Feuer, I learned about the History of Israel. Eve Harrow is a tour guide who talks about the beauty of Israel among other topics.

So thanks to my friend who is a brother in a Lutheran monastery in Germany and has friends in Israel, I am learning a lot about Israel, past and present.  It was a lot of fun to meet Gil Hoffman. I hope to meet other hosts from The Land of Israel Network when they travel to America or when I next travel to Israel.

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First Meeting of "Sapiens" Book Discussion

In life, there are few things better than a lively discussion with bright people.  The first of four meetings of the “Sapiens” book group was exactly that. Five of us discussed the first six chapters of Noah Yuval Hariri’s book about the history of our species.  Three more people intend to join the next meeting in December.

For me, this is my second reading of the book and my second discussion centered on this fascinating book. Last year “Sapiens” was the book discussed by the “Evolution Roundtable” at Franklin and Marshall College. It is a group of professors that meets weekly to discuss a book on evolution. This book generated a lot of controversy.

The “Sapiens” discussion group meets at the Rabbit and Dragonfly coffee shop in Lancaster, Pa. I first got the idea of starting the group from a fellow member of the Philadelphia Area Science Writers of America. She wanted to read and discuss “Sapiens” but lives in Bryn Mawr. I knew people in Lancaster and Massachusetts who would want to talk about “Sapiens” so I decided to start a group assuming we would meet in person and have people join on Skype. 

Susan could not join the first meeting, but we did have one Skype participant, Emily Burgett who called in from Massachusetts.  Emily, Sarah Frye Gingrich and I volunteered for the same English as a Second Language program for the last two years.  Also in the Rabbit and Dragonfly were Joe Steed, who I worked with at a dot-com in 2000 and Theodora Graham who was my first professor of humanities when I went to college after the Army in 1980.  

In the discussion, we talked about how different the actual spread of Homo sapiens around the world looks based on current research than we learned in school.  The fact that we co-existed and mated with Neanderthals, Denisovans and possibly other hominid species goes against the linear narrative of evolution in older textbooks.  The extinctions that early Homo sapiens caused were also surprising and sad for all of us. 

We talked about the Peugeot myth at that is central to Hariri’s presentation of the cognitive revolution and his funny and true assertion that wheat domesticated humans, not vice versa, from the standpoint of evolution. 

Next month we will go further into the agricultural revolution and how our species changed in the last 10,000 years.  In January we move to religion. That should be really interesting. In the five people in the first meeting we have two cradle Catholics, and Orthodox believer, an Evangelical and a Jew. 

But most of all we had a lively discussion among people of varied backgrounds bringing their own experience and insights to look at the same book.  I can’t wait for next month.

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Physical Therapy, the Bible, and Fundamentalists

The Greek New Testament

This week I continued physical therapy after last week's knee operation. After some jokes about bones and joints, the therapist and I got into a discussion about Ancient Greek, Hebrew and the Bible.

He asked if Greek was like Hebrew because a fundamentalist family member of his often talked about those languages, though the family member does not know those languages.  I said they were not much alike at all, but they were two of the languages, along with Aramaic, that the Bible was written in.

Of course, the fundamentalist in his life bragged about taking the Bible literally.  Which led us to a conversation about what literal really means.

For Christians, the most important passages of the Bible are the words of Jesus.  Jesus is quoted throughout the four Gospel accounts. Each of those Gospels are written in Greek.  They are eyewitness accounts by four men who knew and followed Jesus during His brief, three-year ministry in Israel.  Jesus traveled, but only in Israel, then as now a very small country.  Jesus spoke to Jews and to people who lived in Israel, including Roman officials and soldiers.

All of the words Jesus spoke were in Aramaic and Hebrew.  Aramaic is very like Hebrew and was, at that time, the commonly spoken language of Israel and what is now the Middle East.

Fundamentalists believe there is a perfect autograph copy somewhere of every word of the Bible.  Therefore, they can take the Bible literally because every word is perfect.

If there is anything repellent to a fundamentalist, it is actual faith. They want certainty. The idea of perfect manuscripts fits with their need for certainty. But as with all of life, the reality is complicated, way too complicated for a fundamentalist.

Most of the words of Jesus recorded by the Gospel writers were spoken in  Aramaic. Jesus spoke Aramaic as He gave what is known as the Sermon on the Mount, also known as the Beatitudes.  This brief speech is recorded in the beginning of Chapter 5 of the Gospel of Matthew.  But Matthew did not write the speech in Aramaic, he wrote it in Greek.  Matthew translated the words he heard from Aramaic to Greek.

Most Americans speak just one language, so they don't deal with the problems of translation in their daily life.  Someone who speaks only English can think of translation as some kind of word-for-word swap from one language to another. But anyone who deals with multiple languages knows better.

In this case, Matthew's Greek version of what Jesus said is 87 words.  The closest I could get to Aramaic is a Hebrew version of the New Testament.  The Hebrew version has only 64 words.  A standard English translation has 121 words.

The fundamentalist version of Bible inspiration says Matthew was doing something akin to automatic writing. That he wrote 87 words of Greek that became the perfect original. Inspiration in this view is something akin to automatic or magic writing.

For this to be true, we have to imagine Matthew, a real human person, remembered the words of Jesus and wrote down the 87 Greek words that exactly corresponded to those 64 (or so) Aramaic words.  A real person translating those words would wonder "What about this word, what about this phrase?"

All language is culture which is why there can be a new translation of the Bible every year, in any language.  Matthew, the man, wanted to express what Jesus said, the best he could. In the process of writing the Gospel, he was not in a trance. He wrote, he thought about what he wrote, he changed what he wrote. As with anyone who has ever translated a sentence, or a paragraph, or a book, we must choose words, phrases and syntax to best express what we believe was said.

Matthew was also writing about a man he did not understand. Matthew knew Jesus, lived with Jesus, and like all the disciples, misunderstood Jesus.  How could it be otherwise? We never fully understand each other. Matthew heard the words of God in the form of man. Part of translation is trying to express not just the word, but the thought being expressed.  No translator has ever faced a greater challenge than a Gospel writer.

So Matthew was translating the words of Jesus from Aramaic to Greek and striving to pick the right words to represent the Words of God.  Matthew wrote by faith, not by dictation. Matthew had a different task when he was writing what Jesus did rather than what He said.  Then Matthew was turning his memories into words.  But, again, his task was not as straightforward as the same task would be for a native speaker of Greek.  Matthew, like every New Testament writer except Luke, was a native speaker of Aramaic. So he was writing in Greek even though Aramaic was the language of his early life and thought.  Matthew wrote good Greek, but not native-speaker Greek as Luke did.

Before the Bible was translated into English, the spoken words of Jesus were already translated from Hebrew and Aramaic into Greek. The idea of a perfect original copy fills many imaginations but simply does not exist. No one has the exact words spoken by Jesus. No one wrote down the exact Aramaic and Hebrew words Jesus spoke, so no one has what would be the true original copy.  What we have is the memory of four different men translated into Greek words. Those who can read Greek know that the four accounts differ greatly in tone. Luke wrote very good Greek. Mark wrote with a limited vocabulary using grammar and syntax strongly influenced by Aramaic and Hebrew.

Everything about real life makes a mockery of certainty.  We can only live by faith or make up a false certainty to hide behind.

The entire universe, from photons to galaxies, is at once too small and too vast to fully comprehend. The result is that those who reject all religion, such as Richard Dawkins, and those who reject all science, such as Ken Ham, are equally, extremely wrong.  Science of every kind opens new frontiers constantly because every aspect of life has new facets to discover. Faith flourishes in every culture despite all the skeptics.

The Bible itself can never be pinned down like a butterfly on wax by fundamentalists. Jesus left no writings. Every word of Jesus in Scripture recorded by the Gospel writers is a translation from Aramaic or Hebrew to Greek.  In English those words are two translations away from the original words.  And those words have ambiguities and connotations and shades of meaning even in the original language--which we don't have.

Accidentally Stumbling into Happiness

The Declaration of Independence

The pursuit of happiness is enshrined in the Declaration of Independence, along with Life and Liberty, as the foundational rights we should have as Americans--and a good reason to rebel against the English King. 

Pursuit of happiness, like pursuit of wealth, is not the same a having it.  Annie Grace, author ofThis Naked Mind helps people get alcohol out of their lives and live happier lives as a result. She is brilliant and very much data oriented. When I heard about her, I was impressed. So who has a happy life?  

It turns out that the men who wrote the Declaration of Independence were doing many of the things that lead to real happiness. They were committed to a cause bigger than themselves; they had strong relationships (a real possibility of "hanging together" as Benjamin Franklin famously said); each one had a goal in life; and they were helping others. In their pursuit of happiness, they were doing the things that actually make people happy.

Annie Grace puts exercise and meditation at the top of her list of things that lead to true happiness and she uses a lot of data and brain science to show why this is true. Since I did not hear about Annie Grace until this week, I had not plan to follow her advice, but it turned I am doing most of the things she says lead to a happy life.

According to Grace people who have a happy life:

1.     Exercise, not just exercise but exercise with others toward a personal goal. Most of my rides are training rides with other racers.  When I was in the Army, I went to crowded gyms and trained to score high on the fitness test.

2.   Meditation. I started meditating this year. The program I use calls meditation, “a vacation for your mind.” They are right.

3.     Strong relationships.  It has been my immense good fortune to have a variety of strong relationships. I have Army buddies I am still in touch with from both the 70s and recent years. I have a wonderful family. I have friends from racing and friends who are as intensely into books as I am.  Recently I have added friends who share an intense interest in politics. I hang out with some of my former co-workers more than three years after I retired. Social media keeps me in touch with people I only rarely see in person.

4.     Having a goal in life. From the time I left home at 18, I have joined groups with shared goals and had goals of my own. In each of the four military organizations in which I enlisted, I was part of the mission. My professional jobs were in communications—my mission was to tell customers and other influential people that the place I worked is wonderful. I did far and away my best work when the communication goal was clear.

5.     Gratitude. Annie Grace recommends a gratitude journal, writing down five things I am thankful for each day. I am going to start.

6.     Helping others. I don’t do enough of this.

7.     Active leisure: Do sports, don't watch sports, at least while the sun is up. I am a member of book discussion groups and even had a couple of book groups in Iraq. My current college course is learning Modern Hebrew. 

8.     Belonging to something bigger than us. In real life, the Lone Ranger was miserable.

I really do have a happy life, but it’s nice to have data that confirms why I am happy.

I didn't start meditating or Yoga until this year. It's never too late to make changes. 

Marc Abrahams Turned Strange Science into an Event Known Around the World

Marc Abrahams, Ig Nobel emcee, 

Illumination by Human Spotlight

Marc Abrahams is the editor and founder of the Annals of Improbable Research and the co-founder and Emcee of the annual Ig Nobel Prize ceremony. Both the Ig Nobel Prizes and the magazine are approaching their thirtieth year of making people laugh and then think.

I met Marc Abrahams in 2006 when the American Association for the Advancement of Science annual meeting was in St. Louis.  The AAAS meeting is always over President’s weekend in February.  During that weekend in 2006, the temperature in St. Louis never got higher than ten degrees Fahrenheit.  

We were introduced in a crowded bar in the conference hotel by the science writer Katharine Sanderson, then a science writer for Chemistry World magazine in the U.K. Sanderson had written about the history of the chemistry museum I worked for and thought Marc would like it.  

I had never heard of the Ig Nobel Prizes, but loved the idea from the moment Marc began explaining them.  The ten annual prizes mirror the actual Nobel prizes, though not strictly.  They are awarded for actual published scientific research about strange topics.  For example, this year, the Medicine Ig Nobel Prize went to a Japanese doctor who published a paper describing a self colonoscopy. 

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The winner of the 2018 Ig Nobel Prize 

in Medicine for Self Colonoscopy

Another 2018 Ig Nobel laureate received the prize in the Nutrition category—not a Nobel category. He showed from research based on DNA from three millennia ago that a cannibal diet is not as nutritious as diet based on eating other animals and plants.  His findings show it’s better to eat with your neighbor than to eat your neighbor.

The Ig Nobel Prizes are bestowed on the winners by actual Nobel laureates. People, who have been honored in Stockholm by the Swedish Academy for brilliant research, laugh along with everyone else as they hand out prizes for research on bras that become gas masks or frogs that levitate in magnetic fields. They even help to sweep up the paper airplanes.

This year, the woman who won the Nobel Prize in chemistry told Ira Flatow on Science Friday that she wanted an Ig Nobel Prize! It seemed as she was also quite happy with the Nobel Prize.

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Since 1991, Marc has donned a tux and top hat and acted as emcee for this annual ceremony that includes a comic opera and, to add nerdiness, a blizzard of paper airplanes.  

Paper airplanes fill the air in Sanders Theater

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After the September ceremony in Sanders Theater at Harvard each year, Marc travels the world talking about the Ig Nobels.  This year he was in a festival in Japan just a week after the ceremony in Cambridge.  He also puts on an abbreviated ceremony at the annual meeting of AAAS—the American Association for the Advancement of Science, which is always held on the President’s Day weekend in February. Sometimes the AAAS meeting also conflicts with Valentine’s Day and with the Daytona 500.  What this says about scientists, I leave to others to decide.

Marc speaks to audiences around the world.

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My first volunteer job with the Ig Nobel was ushering at the Ig Nobel ceremony at the AAAS meeting beginning in 2006.  However, after I returned from Iraq in 2010, Marc added me to the volunteer staff in Cambridge as a press wrangler. Each year I escort reporters in and out of the ceremony. Because of copyright and legal restrictions, broadcast reporters are limited in how much time they can record.  My particular job is to escort the reporter and cameraman from Channel One (ПервыйКанал) in Russia.  Camera crews from many countries have filmed the Ig Nobel ceremony over the years, but Channel One Russia and NHK Japan have been there every year since I have been a volunteer.

This year, for the first time, I was able to attend one of the Ig Nobel picnics. The picnics bring together volunteers who are running past each other on the day of the event. This year I arrived early enough to hear practice for the Opera. In addition to playing at the Ig Nobel ceremony and the picnic, one of the pianists, Ivan Gusev, will be playing a solo concert at Carnegie Hall next month.  

One of the best pieces of career advice I have ever received said that happiness at work depends more on who you work with than on what you do.  Marc Abrahams took this one step further: he created a ceremony that became an institution that attracts people who laugh and think and who want others to join in and do the same.

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