~Draconis-de-Christus

One thing that I don’t do is movie theaters. I generally lay low and wait for a film to come out on DVD before I go see it; this even goes for films that I like. It takes a lot to get me to go spend several dollars extra for only one viewing of any particular film. As much as I admire Tolkien, I saw the Lord of the Rings trilogy after it was already a trilogy, and only five dollars in the sale rack at Wal Mart. Many at my church were not very happy when I did not go see the controversial Passion of the Christ film, not because I had anything against the film, not because what it represented bothered me, but because I knew it would come out later for home viewing without my paying the ticket master what could have been used for wiser investments, such as new items for the model railroad. There have been films in the past, however, that have been significant enough that I braved the crowds, the worry over missing show times, and the grumpy popcorn lady, and went to go be a part of something.

Several months back I heard of a film called Expelled. This was more of a documentary than anything else, but in it, Ben Stein examines questions about the argument over the origin of mankind. I heard that it was not so much about different theories about how it all started, but rather an examination of whether or not there was a fair playing field where these ideas could be discussed.

I have always been a lover of wisdom, and therefore, a lover also of knowledge, and this kind of thing peaked my interest. I counted Expelled big enough for me to get in my truck and drive down the local theater to have a look-see. I was not disappointed. The presentation of thought provoking ideas was excellent. The interviews were well executed and very fair to both sides of the origins argument. There were multiple sources that lent their ideas to this film to make it a very balanced and well informative work. I had to smile when they showed part of an interview with Dr. John Pokinghorn, even though I was probably the only one in that room who had ever previously heard of him.

I also loved the sense of humor the film kept throughout. There were multiple times that they were able to effectively use clips from old, black and white films that lent an air of lightness to an otherwise loaded issue. Keeping one’s sense of humor is always key when addressing an important issue, and the use of these comical mental images kept us smiling and interested throughout the picture.

I know that Expelled did not show in every theater, and I know that there are those who, like I almost was, are succumb to whatever forces that be that keep them from going to the movies, but if it is at all possible for you, I would recommend that you find a way to see this film. It is worth your time and money, and it promises to be a very thought provoking experience.

To Quantify - a.) To limit by a quantifier. b.) To bind by prefixing a quantifier. (1.) To make explicit the logical quantity of. (2.) To determine, express, or measure the quantity of - quantifiable.


Quantification is something we as human creatures do a lot of. I believe it was Democritus in ancient Greece who was one of the first to set out to find what was the smallest division possible in matter. He named the smallest division of matter atomos from the Greek word for undividable, and this was the birth of quantum mechanics. Most people in this day and age have seen models of atoms. They are hard, rigid spheres unforgivingly bolted together by connections that express their doctrine of stiffness. They express the basic idea that these are something that is fixed and will not change. They are the ultimate quantification of matter. They make the world seem a little simpler; it makes it appear that all matter is just tiny balls spinning around more tiny balls making the universe tick like one gargantuan clock of great complexity. Quantification is the search to make the world like those cold Bohr models of atomic structure where everything is rigid and inside of its own little ball. This means that everything is simplified to a point where we can understand it - sort of.

We as humanity have not limited ourselves to letting this toy of ours called quantification be limited to the atomic level. Look at any science and you will find strict guidelines that state exactly how one is supposed to do this or that to get “certain” results. In chemistry, reactions are predictable. Everyone knows what happens when an acid and a base are put together. On our level of observation we generally just say, “The funny-colored liquid doesn’t burn your digits off anymore.” In biology, every creature is squeezed into strict taxa by their characteristics with military precision. Engineering is a prime example. There are governing differential equations that are supposed to tell you exactly where a spring will be at time x, or what the velocity of an object will be undergoing a parabolic trajectory, and the list continues indefinitely.

Even in such a quantified field as engineering, there are exceptions to mankind’s little boxes. It was not long ago that I was sitting in a dimly-lit classroom where our professor told us through his foreign accent how at the very basic equations from which all the rest are derived, there are deviations, small errors and the like. This is why even the brightest engineers with mountains of computing machinery at their disposal still often build small-scale models to make sure their ideas will work before they spend millions of dollars on them. You can’t always trust our quantification. Man cannot depend on his quantification to get the results he wants in engineering.

In the field of chemistry there is room for error as well. It was in chemistry class that I first heard of Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle. A great deal of what Heisenberg had to say is common sense; if the diameter of a particle we wish to observe is smaller than the wavelength of any range of visible light, there really is no way we can observe it. Even scientists studying quantum mechanics have now thrown out the rigid little balls in favor of head-scratching electron-cloud theories and the like. The whole idea of the world working in a predicable, quantifiable way is correct, but there comes a time and place where we as human creatures cannot get close enough to see what is actually before us, and that is where all of the dead theories of years past bit the dust.

I think of the Caloric theory. This was once the universally accepted scientific explanation for heat and heat transfer. The scientists who held to the Caloric theory said that heat was a fluid called Caloric. When a hot object touched a cold object, the two eventually reaching equilibrium by conduction was said to be the result of Caloric seeping from the hot body to the cold body. Ultimately this theory was proved to be wrong by Count Rumford in 1798 through his experiments in drilling canons. All that is left of the Caloric theory today is our modern word, Calorie. It is one of millions of discarded scientific ideas that new observations have committed to the history books.

In short, our methods of quantification have their limits. There are things that are mis-quantified due to inaccurate observations. Man cannot be everywhere at the same time, and there will always be some uncertainty about even a world as tame as this one because of our imperfection. This does not make quantification an evil thing; it just means we should use it with caution. New observations can come in at any time. We just need to make sure that we are ready to consider new observations with an open mind. There are still wild places on this earth into which no man has ever dared to peer. There are still gaps in our knowledge that are waiting to be filled or replaced. Find me in those gaps. Find me where there is still mystery and the unknown to be conquered. The truth is out there, and it can will be found.

Another appropriate phrase would be, “ Please don’t think I’m weird!” Both these phrases together sum the collective emotions of a chosen number of people who have had something out of the ordinary happen to them. Their lives were what most would call “normal.” They did not seek the strange, the frightening or the unspeakable, but in the course of a defiant moment, they gasp, shriek, fall to their knees in terror as the fragments of our diminutive, overly quantified models of what is crumple all around them.

These men and women watch, some in awe, some in horror, and some entranced, those who live to tell, as all they have been told and believed their entire lives begin to look more and more like paper doll houses that dissolve when their own cold perspiration falls on them from their contorted faces. They have given us names such as Chupacabra, Ogopogo and reptoid, but no one believes that they really saw Champ, Ninki-Nanka or Mokele-Mbembe. A sarcastic pat on the back by the mocking throng doesn’t console the eyes; they know what they saw.

What have they seen? What new worlds can they open for us? You will likely never know; that is, if you are one of many who refuse to listen to them. They have been entrusted with the white elephant truths that have sealed the fate of their intellectual prowess in one derelict reality that doesn’t fit inside our box, our matrix, but they keep going. Some wander the earth looking for others who have endured the same things; they are out there. Some grow curious, and they search further to find many wonders the rest of the world will never see. Most relegate themselves to silence, banished by what is. No one listens to them...

In times past, locomotives in the service of railroads around the world would work hard. They endured the weather and as much punishment as the roundhouse foreman thought they could stand. There would come a day when an engine would slowly wheeze into the shops, almost dead, and the crews there would work hard to give the weary machine a complete overhaul. Valves would be replaced. Leaky seals were replaced. Bent parts were mended, and a thorough cleaning made old rusty steel shine like new. Onlookers, unable to see the magic of what went on inside that noisy building could almost convince themselves that this was the birthplace of new locomotives.

What that magical machine shop was to those tired steamers is what this weekend was to my soul. I had a chance this weekend to get away from the smelly environment of grit and concrete, and I have once again reunited with a gentler and purer way of life. As the old engines were made to shine again, being in the purity of fellowship has sluiced so much dirt thrown upon me by the road.

There were no four-course meals, no big Broadway productions or satin sheets. All of us ended up pitching in getting meals and cleaning accomplished. There was conversation and laughter. There were quiet games and simple, natural wonders.

The only unfortunate matter about an overhaul is that a brief window of rest passes before new fires make the steam boil in the boiler, and the restored locomotive goes back out into the world to get dirty and beat up all over again. I have returned, and there are many heavy loads to be pulled this week, but I thank God for this weekend, and the rest and restoration that went on there.

As a scientific culture, we live off of truths that start our cars, make our coffee, and light our dwellings. Scientific truths are allowing you to view this all around the world the second I click the OK button. Without the solid foundation of these scientific truths, most everything we interact with on a daily, we would still be living in the stone age.

I find it ironic that there are individuals who want to hide truth from others. They are all around us; closer than you think. You see them every day. There are hidden truths that may never be discovered only because there are people who somehow have a lot to lose if these secrets get out.

What are they hiding? Why are they hiding it? Time will tell. Their secrets will get out.