In Wonder of π
Today is Thursday, March 14th. Among mathematicians and secondary school students alike, this date has increasingly been recognized as a quirky celebration of “Pi Day.” My oldest daughter was excited enough about the “holiday,” because it gave her reason to take a homemade pie to school to celebrate with her classmates.
As we were talking about it around the dinner table, my two oldest kids (5th and 7th grades) asked me where π came from, and I did my best to both resist a dad joke and give them a version of an informed response.
The mathematical representation of π (or pi) was discovered by Archimedes of Syracuse (287–212 BC). Third century B.C. folks! #mindblown. I did well enough in high school math to test out of any need to take more math in college. So, I guess I understand a fair bit, but I’m still a feeble enough mathematician that I'm absolutely amazed that someone could calculate π. How does someone even set about doing it! These sorts of people fill me with wonder.
More than a thousand years before Archimedes, the Babylonians calculated the number to around 3.16, while knowing they weren’t precisely accurate. But Archimedes was set upon figuring it as an absolute number, and after constant calculations he arrived at 22/7 - an irregular number that cannot be further reduced. His discovery was seen to be so consistently verified that 22/7 came to be known as Archimedes’ constant for roughly 2,000 years. In the 18th century, William Jones was the first to start using the Greek letter π, or pi.
Because 22/7 is an irrational number, we often simplify it as 3.14. Today, people have calculated π to more than 31-trillion places, but never in its entirety. How could someone calculate a number to that many places! Mind blown a second time. Once again, from the little bit I can comprehend, I understand that π’s decimals go on infinitely, with no two numbers repeating themselves. Yet, we continue to understand it as a “mathematical constant.” We’re certain that it’s true.
As a result, we know what π is. I used it countless times throughout middle and high school math classes, and still use it to ball-park measurements that involve circles or spheres. It’s especially useful that I have 3.14 drilled into my head, so my general reference points are mildly helpful to my children when hoping to assist them with their homework.
Though I’ve never felt like it detracted from my upbringing, I didn’t grow up in a home full of celebrations. My two brothers’ and I have birthdays within nine days of each other, and they typically fell around (or even on) Thanksgiving Day. So, birthdays seemed to get blended together with both Thanksgiving and with siblings’ birthdays. We didn’t really celebrate Valentines’ Day or other “lesser” holidays. Because that was so normal in my home, I wasn’t aware of the extent to which people celebrated holidays; getting married was brought the biggest of those realizations. Now, I’m much more aware of the tendency to throw a party for any and every possible celebration. Still, that doesn’t feel normal to me. So, it’s not that I’m the sort of person that’s looking for the next event to celebrate. But, I truly think that Christians (and specifically those in Christian education) should make a point to do something special on Pi Day.
Growing up in a Christian school and dedicating my entire adult life to Christian education, I’m more than familiar with the typical verbiage associated with Christianity and mathematics: “God is a God of order.” “God is a God of absolutes.” “Math shows us about infinity; God is infinite.” While all of those are true statements, I’ve also come to learn that all monotheistic religions speak about mathematics the same way. Muslims believe in an absolute God, have a very high regard for mathematics, and often speak of the overlap between the two. I say this not to diminish the importance of talking about order and absolutes. It’s critical for students to learn this foundation. They need to know that there are rules and boundaries and that these are good for them. It’s healthy for them to learn to see the necessity of unity and order. Of absolutes and certainties. In a world that seeks to convince our students that rules and boundaries are there to restrict them, Math will continue to be a powerful tool to help them see how much they need rules to be absolute … and good and beautiful.
But, Christians alone have the capacity to talk about real need. Other monotheistic religions are built upon the notion that “God” has revealed Himself to people through various prophets, but it’s up to us to follow the plan set before us. This alone begs the question about how absolute this view of God actually. For, if it’s up to people to follow the plan (or not), then ultimately, it’s all up to people. Not God. Christianity alone declares that God (and His plan) are ultimate and that we aren’t actually capable of upholding our part of the deal. We are incapable of saving ourselves. We are entirely in a position of need. That’s why Jesus came; that’s why it’s good news. Other religious systems declare that there is a God who has set before people HIs rules and preferences, and these rules are within our grasp. Christianity says that God has set before us rules which flow out of who He is, and that we can’t come close to grasping Him or His rules. But, thankfully, He came down to grasp us.
But what does that have to do with π? With 3.14?
People are so skilled that they can understand what Pi is and calculate it to the trillionth place, yet still not fully define it. I know exactly what to do with π ; it makes a whole lot of sense, but I can’t get my head entirely around it, and never will. Nor will anyone else. A yet, there’s profound certainty in it. Doesn’t that sound a bit like faith?
This is a gift.
I think it’s a gift from God whenever He gives us things that remind us that He is God and we’re not. Pi reminds us that there is so much we know, and so much we don’t. It’s beautiful and frustrating at the same time. I can’t help thinking about Ecclesiastes 3, when the writer tells us that God has put eternity in our hearts … so that we can’t fathom what He’s up to. Or, the writer of Deuteronomy tells us that God’s ways are higher than ours.
Left to ourselves, we think we’re sufficient, but we need these wonderful and mysterious reminders that we are finite. Pi makes sense of so much; it helps us in countless ways; we have done much with and because it. Yet, we still can’t fully define it. We know it, but it’s still higher than us. But just because we can’t fully get our heads around it, that doesn’t mean that it’s any less good, or true, or beautiful. It’s still just as certain.
If you’re a Math teacher, pause to talk about π. Draw attention to this very known idea, but point out how much work has been done to know it, yet it’s still not entirely known. That doesn’t make it any less amazing … even more so, in fact. And, the same is true of what we can and will ever know about God. Even in heaven, we will continue to know Him more and more, but never fully. How wonderful! How amazing! And, when we see this, we should be drawn toward awe. Toward humility. Like the writer of Psalm 8, we should see the work of God’s hands and ask, “what is man that you mindful of him?…” All Christian teachers should pounce on every instance when we’ve come face to face with what’s higher and beyond us. Let your students be amazed by it. Yes, the numbers keep going and going. Let them be frustrated by it. Nurture their wonder and mystery … and their inability.
And yet, that’s why Jesus came. The One who could never fully be known came down so we could know Him in a more tangible and intimate way. He entered into our experience, because we can’t ever do enough or think ourselves into the salvation we need. I’ll never comprehend that.
Certainly it’s more wonderful than 3.14, but maybe 3.14 helps me live more richly in a world where I’m prone to rejoice in the mystery of seeing the countless ways God reveals Himself and will yet always be higher than us.
