Deep Learning . . . 3 Things to Know and Do

Deep learning is when you hear, believe, and change. 

There are three things I learned from a great teacher. These things, truths, were so deeply learned, I did not realize the source until this year. . . And so count this as a thank you and a recommendation of how to live.

Dr. Fount Shults is a great teacher. Meaning at eighteen, I could not fall asleep, came to class even after a late night, and thirty odd years later keep learning from him. After talking with him this weekend, I discovered that some things he taught me stuck, though God help me as a person who began life badly, there were other things I wish I had learned more quickly.

Do not lock your door. 

I had forgotten, a bit, that Dr. Shults (and dear Dr Geier!) let me spend more time in their homes than in my dorm. Why? There was Atari (ET! Star Wars!) to play, but Barth to discuss. Many of us came, because the dialog was good and the food was free. He never locked his door and I have not as result. There are many excuses for doing this, but none that are good. We live in difficult times, but the Good Doctor, the name his students gave him at the time, had grown up in difficult times and never drove anyone away. If he could, we could.

So we did.

Be for, not against. 

I was not good and I am sorry. I went on being not good, but the Good Doctor went on teaching and helping me even when I hit bottom. He was for and not against. The Good Doctor always taught that Christ came consensually and love was mutual. This was hard, given the world. We draw lines, and this is good, but then apply those lines to people and not ideas and that is not good. The Good Doctor and I do not agree on everything, I suspect, but that is just fine.

He will not be against me, just bad ideas. That is not so bad. Nobody wishes to be wrong, all of us are, a bit, and yet Christianity is about mercy.

Mercy may be severe, given what we deserve and need, but mercy is good.

The books of the Bible are great books. Read them so. 

I owe so much to my great teachers, but whether Modrak, Larkin, Geier, or Shults, one (amongst many!) common theme has been: great books require great readers. Modrak made me take all philosophy seriously. Geier is the father of all my dialectic. Shults, I think, was, with my parents, the first to make me realize that hard books require hard work. 

Shults did not stand, first, in judgment of the Gospel of John, he let the Gospel of John stand in judgment of him. This is true of of every great teacher I have had whatever the beliefs they had. The great book was to be understood and then judged, not judged so understood.

This is very easy to say, but hard to do. We wish to read hard books as if they are easy, especially if we want to use them as religious bludgeons.

The Good Doctor, in a hard week, reminded me of deep truth and I am thankful. Nobody, not even me (maybe!) will agree with all he says, but perhaps, mayhap, just maybe, such a thinker deserves a platform.