Fidel Castro's Relationship Advice

My current unemployment leaves me with time to think about subjects that interest me, and nothing interests me more than the mathematics of personal interaction. I receive squinted eyes as a response when I reveal this as my hobby, since mathematics is synonymous with arithmetic for the majority of the population. But there is a significant distinction: arithmetic is a branch of mathematics that deals with the study of quantity, while mathematics is the study of logical quality. I prefer to think of mathematics as Albert Einstein did: as the poetry of logical ideas.

In my mind, interpersonal interactions carry both weight and shape. The shape is the type of statement we form in response to another person; the weight is the effect that statement has on the other person's beliefs. In conversations where two people express opposing views, there is a desire to create a unified belief system between the two individuals. Each person wants the other to subscribe to his own beliefs, and both appeal to logic and reason to justify their claims. First, we need an understanding of where the thought process that you and I almost subconsciously subscribe to began.

Logic and rationality were not born in the Garden of Eden, but rather in Greece during an intellectual blossoming of the fourth century. Several schools of thought existed at that time, including the school of Socrates. The Socratic method of revealing truth through questions was formed during this time period. Plato was a disciple of Socrates, and wrote dialogues in which his master used the Socratic method to question, and vanquish, rival philosophers and rhetoricians. I am not going to enter into a treatise on rhetoric but, if you are interested after reading this post, there is a fantastic book I want to recommend called Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance by Robert Pirsig.

My point is to show that logic is just one of the many schools of thought that existed at the time, but it is the one the Western world adopted. And that is a good thing, because logic runs the computer on which I am typing, and the internet through which I will broadcast this post. However, I wonder if logical thought is the best way to deal with human interactions, and if the Socratic method is the best way to unify opposing belief systems. We appeal to logic and rationality whenever we argue with another human being, always under the implicit assumption that the rules for logical thought and rationality are universal.

One of my favorite documentaries is The Fog of War, a chronicle of the decisions of former Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara. He described the Cuban Missile Crisis as follows:

"I want to say, and this is very important: at the end we lucked out. It was luck that prevented nuclear war. We came that close to nuclear war at the end. Rational individuals: Kennedy was rational; Khrushchev was rational; Castro was rational. Rational individuals came that close to total destruction of their societies. And that danger exists today."

Rational individuals came close to total destruction. But what scares me about this scenario is Castro. Was Castro rational? McNamara asked Castro these three questions in a meeting after the crisis:

"Number one: did you know the nuclear warheads were there? 

Number two: if you did, would you have recommended to Khrushchev in the face of an U.S. attack that he use them? 

Number three: if he had used them, what would have happened to Cuba?"

Castro's responses are chilling:

"Number one, I knew they were there. 

Number two, I would not have recommended to Khrushchev, I did recommend to Khrushchev that they be used. 

Number three, 'What would have happened to Cuba?' It would have been totally destroyed."

How is self-destruction a rational choice? Castro must have assumed that mutual destruction was inevitable, therefore nobody would be left alive to care who was responsible. Rational indeed. The choice, illogical to everyone else, was logical to Castro. 

I can imagine Khrushchev staring in disbelief at Castro's recommendation and asking, "Are you crazy?" Castro probably responded with, "Lo digo como lo veo." Translation: "I'm just telling it like it is."

This phrase bothers me when I hear it, because what is really means is, "Only my belief system is rational and logical," which is the same thing as saying, "You are irrational and illogical." No wonder over fifty-percent of marriages end in divorce: when you're assumption that is logic is universal, any argument means that one of the spouses is out of this universe (in a bad way). And nobody wants to be that person. 

The only relevant part of a conversation is what is heard, not what is said. Our words have no meaning other than the meaning which the listener attributes to them. 

This is because each human being is the intersection of an infinite amount of circles. For example, if I draw a circle labeled "Mormon," and another labeled "Man," then I am the intersection of the two. Now add a circle labeled "Moderate Republican," then one labeled "Husband," then one called "Brother." I am still at the intersection. 

Then draw one for "Baseball games with Dad" and "Grandpa has dementia" and "Mom was full-time homemaker" and on and on and on. Draw one for every experience, every feeling of happiness and heartbreak, then multiply the number of circles you have by infinity, and take the intersection of those circles. 

That is me. 

The labels on those circles define my frame of reference, which is the foundation for my own brand of logical thought and reason. I derive my assumptions from my frame of reference, and from there I form my premises and conclusions. My logic is my own, and so is yours. 

The stereotype that women are illogical always makes me laugh. Illogical compared to what? You? Some Aristotelian universal logic? It turns out that the circle labeled "Woman" is pretty important. 

Since logic cannot be used to change another person's mind, what can be? Rhetoric. Socrates and Aristotle just rolled in their graves, for the art they detested is the answer to the problem they created. 

Rhetoric deals with form, rather than substance. You have the ear of the listener in mind when you speak, instead of your own mouth. Presentation is the key. For which is better: to tell your son he should care more for the poor, or to take him to a soup kitchen? Both relay the same message, but one is combative to his belief that he already does care, or doesn't need to care, while the other provides another circle in his frame of reference. One tries to cut a branch, another adds a root.

I'll talk more about rhetoric in relationships in a future post.  

The Walls That Divide Us

For centuries, mankind has attempted to solve problems by building walls. I stood under one of those walls yesterday, erected for the same reason as the Great Wall of China and the Berlin Wall--preservation through separation.

The fortress to which I refer is the wall that separates the West Bank from Jerusalem. It is built with mammoth cement bricks and resembles a grey row of teeth. Roads that used to connect the two areas stop at graffiti-ridden concrete slabs. The wall has suffocated the once-thriving West Bank.

We stood before it in the West Bank city of Bethany. What made this experience striking was the monument two-hundred feet beyond us. At a place where the wall can be seen ominously rising over surrounding buildings, a small wooden sign reads "The Tomb of Lazarus." It marks the place where Lazarus awoke from the dead at the command of Jesus Christ. Here, The Master tore down the wall that separates us from our loved ones: Death.

This makes sense because the Savior was an unabashed destroyer of walls. He spoke with unclean women and associated with the Samaritans. He ate with publicans and sinners. He chose a hated tax collector named Matthew and a simple fisherman named  Peter to be leaders in the organization of His church. He comforted an adulterer and praised the widow's mite. His teachings relieved people of the unnecessary fences the Jewish authorities had built around God's law, for His yoke was easy and His burden was light.

He tore down walls that divide.

Above the walled Old City in Jerusalem is a hill called the Mount of Olives. Here in this grove of olive trees, Jesus Christ routinely looked out over Jerusalem saying:

"O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou that killest the prophets, and stonest them which are sent unto thee, how often would I have gathered thy children together, even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye would not!"

But it was below the Mount of Olives in a place called Gethsemane where He destroyed the barriers that separate us from God. My wife and I recently visited Gethsemane, and I commented on how foreboding the trees looked.

'"No," she replied, "I think they are beautiful."

When I looked again, I realized she was right. The unique twists and knots of the olive trees are picturesque in the daylight. I had been imagining them snarling at the Savior by moonlight as He fulfilled the Atonement.

This is where the Savior bridged an infinite wall that divides our imperfect selves from our perfect Heavenly Father. I studied mathematics in college, and when infinity popped up in a mathematics problem, I tended to throw my work out, because infinity in mathematics is impossible to overcome. That is why the Savior's Atonement is a miracle: He created a bridge to our Heavenly Father over a chasm of infinite width. By overcoming the world in Gethsemane, Jesus Christ defeated infinity for us all.

But what strikes me most about Gethsemane is its proximity to Jerusalem. The Savior could see His people from the Mount of Olives and their lit houses from Gethsemane.

All He had to do was look over the city wall.

Thoughts in Nazareth

We know little about the maturing years of Jesus Christ. Of His life between His instruction in the synagogue at age twelve and the start of His ministry at age thirty, the Apostle Luke gives us one sentence: "And Jesus increased in wisdom and stature, and in favour with God and man." But we do know He apprenticed in the family business of carpentry with His father, Joseph.

However, the belief that Jesus spent his time carving rocking horses and other wooden toys is probably false. A more correct translation of the Greek word that describes Jesus' occupation is 'builder' and, since the most popular building material in Nazareth was stone, Jesus more likely worked with His father to build houses instead of horses, by moving large stone blocks, instead of pliable 2x4's. He spent His growing years building physical shelters for the citizens of Nazareth; He would spend his last three years creating spiritual shelter for us all. Indeed, He knew from personal experience the importance of building a house upon a rock.

Stone is the material that lines the walls of the synagogue in Nazareth where He proclaimed Himself as the Messiah after quoting the prophesies of Isaiah and adding, "This day is this scripture fulfilled in your ears." The Nazarenes in the synagogue were bewildered at His gracious words and asked, "Is not this Joseph's son?"--which is a perfectly acceptable question in the context of His occupation. If the construction worker who built my home came to me with his yellow hard hat on and claimed to be the Messiah, my response would be the same.

But it was in Gethsemane--the Aramaic word for "oil press"--where He who provided shelter for all mankind received none for Himself.

Matthew 26:37-39 And he took with him Peter and the two sons of Zebedee, and began to be sorrowful and very heavy. Then saith he unto them, My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death: tarry ye here, and watch with me. And he went a little further, and fell on his face, and prayed, saying, O my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me: nevertheless not as I will, but as thou wilt.

In Jesus' time, before olives were made into oil they were ground into paste. The typical Nazarene olive press consisted of a large log on which was fastened three stones, each weighing one ton. The olive paste was placed under a flat stone and a basket was placed on top of the olives to separate the solid elements from the extracted oil.

The first press was with only the weight of the basket. The oil that seeped through was the best quality-- extra virgin. It was saved for temple anointings and other religious ordinances.

Matthew 26:42 He went away again the second time, and prayed, saying, O my Father, if this cup may not pass away from me, except I drink it, thy will be done.

After the extra virgin olive oil was extracted, the full weight of the three stones (six thousand pounds) was dropped onto the already sweating olive paste for the second press. The pressure on the flat stone squeezed the remaining liquid from the olives. This oil was still fairly high quality and used for cooking and perfumes.

Matthew 26:44 And he left them, and went away again, and prayed the third time, saying the same words.

Luke 22:43-44 And there appeared an angel unto him from heaven, strengthening him. And being in an agony he prayed more earnestly: and his sweat was as it were great drops of blood falling down to the ground.

The third and final press on the olives was the most grueling: the olives were completely sapped of their liquid. In fact, the flesh of the olive became so compressed that it squeezed through the basket.

The oil gleaned from this final press was absolutely everything the olives had it give. It was used to light the houses of the Nazarenes.

May we light our homes and our lifes with the oil of His atonement.