(1) Jesus said, “From Adam to John the Baptizer, among those born of women, there is no one greater than John the Baptizer, so that his eyes should not be averted.
(2) But I have said that whoever among you becomes a child will know the kingdom and will become greater than John.”— Thomas 46 (NHS)
The first verse raises many questions. Whose eyes should not be averted? Why should anyone else’s eyes be turned away? Turned away from what?
But the second verse also raises questions: What’s so great about becoming a child, and how does that lead to knowing the kingdom?
Matthew 18:3 says that ‘Except ye be converted [στραφῆτε], and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven’ (KJV). The root of στραφῆτε (‘be converted’) is the verb στρέφω, turn, which is also the root idea of ‘convert.’ How can an adult be turned, or turn himself, into a child? Does this turning reverse the normal development of a child into an adult? Or is it a recovery of the “beginner’s mind” which is often lost in development?
An infant who has just learned to hold his head up has a frank and forthright way of gazing about him in bewilderment. He hasn’t the faintest clue where he is, and he aims to learn. In a couple of years, what he will have learned instead is how to fake it: he’ll have the cocksure air of a squatter who has come to feel he owns the place. Some unwonted, taught pride diverts us from our original intent, which is to explore the neighborhood, view the landscape, to discover at least where it is that we have been so startlingly set down, if we can’t learn why.
— Annie Dillard (1974, 19)
We all begin as beginners, as startlings. The infant ‘aims to learn,’ and that ‘original intent’ of learning from experience is what it takes ‘to be a philosopher, or a scientific man,’ says Peirce. But, says Dillard, some ‘taught pride’ diverts us from that intent, and we learn to fake it instead, to act as if we already know. This is what happens to the “scientist” as he learns to play the complex social role which his profession is supposed to fill. But to be a real scientist or philosopher, says Peirce, he needs ‘the sincerity and simple-mindedness of the child’s vision, with all the plasticity of the child’s mental habits.’
Dillard says: ‘I am no scientist. I explore the neighborhood.’ She implies that a “scientist,” instead of exploring, pretends to explain the neighborhood to the neighbors. But maybe, for the “pure” or childlike scientists, that’s only a front which they use to finance their explorations. Maybe their real question is neither where nor why but how. How does exploring happen, or learning, or pride?
Maybe the scientist (as opposed to the philosopher) has to specialize in order to offer some answers, and maybe some get so insulated in their specialism that they think they own their neighborhoods. But that doesn’t stop us using their maps and models for our own explorations. We’re all specialists in living a particular life – but you, O beginner, O child who has somehow learned to read, are the sole heir of all that mapping, and all the specialists are working for you. It’s your turn to begin.
“Maybe the scientist (as opposed to the philosopher) has to specialize in order to offer some answers, and maybe some get so insulated in their specialism that they think they own their neighborhoods. But that doesn’t stop us using their maps and models for our own explorations. We’re all specialists in living a particular life – but you, O beginner, O child who has somehow learned to read, are the sole heir of all that mapping, and all the specialists are working for you. It’s your turn to begin.”
Well said and amen! As is often the case with your blog posts, I have nothing to add. Today I only wish to renew and reinvigorate my attempt to return to my beginner’s mind, using “all that mapping” to become “sole heir of the whole world.”