In his book Reading Augustine: On Education, Formation, Citizenship, and the Lost Purpose of Learning, Joseph Clair proposes that education be reset within the liberal arts tradition with four overarching aims, each with a related question:
Spiritual – Who or what should I worship?
Moral – What should I do?
Intellectual – What should I know?
Economic – What shall I make?
Some disciplines are easier for contemporary followers of Jesus to fit within those four aims. For example, Christians studying biology (e.g., at home, in school, at university) can connect the dots between their scientific studies and Christianity with guidance from scholars and institutions that are uniquely dedicated to thinking through the relationship between science, faith, and ethics. Similarly, there is a surge of Christian scholars, artists, and institutions promoting and supporting “the vibrant interplay between Christian theology and the arts.”
Other disciplines—like mathematics—are a bit more difficult to fit within the four aims. Some might easily connect mathematics to intellectual and (modern) economic aims but not as easily connect it to spiritual and moral aims. At times, Christians attempt to shoehorn connections between mathematics and faith—like drawing lines from basic addition facts to the existence of absolute truth. But these attempts can feel superficial or misguided.
There is, however, a host of Christians (past and present) contemplating the relationship between theology, spirituality, ethics, education, and mathematics—it just doesn’t seem to get as much airtime as Christian reflection on other disciplines. The limited dissemination of these ideas is a significant issue because, as Francis Su explains in his beautiful book Mathematics for Human Flourishing, “every single one of us is, whether we realize it or not, a teacher of math. We all communicate attitudes about mathematics through what we say to others, and our words have indelible effects.”
Su continues, “You may be a parent someday, or an aunt or uncle, a youth group leader, a community volunteer, or in another position where you influence others—if so, you will be a teacher of math.” So, if you help a child with their math homework, you are teaching them mathematics. If, instead, you pass on helping due to (legitimate) anxiety about math, you are teaching a disposition towards mathematics. In short, the vocation of teaching mathematics is more universal than you might expect. Thus, it would behoove Christians to talk about the relationship between mathematics, mathematics education, and our faith more frequently.
To introduce the wider church to Christian reflection on mathematics and mathematics education, I’d like to share a prayer that I’ve written for my undergraduate students. This semester, at the beginning of each meeting of my undergraduate mathematics pedagogy course—a course about teaching mathematics for prospective early childhood and elementary teachers—I pray the following prayer aloud:
Father, you created us in your image and made a mathematical realm for us to explore and enjoy.
And Lord Jesus, you identify so closely with children that you said whoever welcomes children, welcomes you.
Therefore, Spirit, in light of these truths, help us create learning environments where students are welcomed and loved so that every mathematical interaction with a child might point to your kingdom of shalom. Amen.
In the following sections, I unpack the various components and structure of this prayer in order to introduce readers to Christian reflection on the spiritual and moral dimensions of mathematics education.
Father, you created us in your image and made a mathematical realm for us to explore and enjoy.
The Bible Project beautifully illustrates the vocational dimension of the image of God: humans are royal priests, placed in a garden in the center of Eden, to reign on God’s behalf by working and keeping the garden—and, by extension, all creation. Of course, humans aren’t content with imaging God but rather desire to be god. As a result, sin and death pervasively spread throughout creation. The storyline deepens with ancient Israel—who God calls to be a kingdom of priests and to cherish the gift of God’s presence. Yet, through the prophets, God regularly exposes the failures of Israel and their appointed leaders through urgent and compassionate critique. Ultimately, God raises up Jesus—a descendant of the original Eden inhabitants and Israel’s royal line—to conquer sin and death through his crucifixion and resurrection and restore the blessings of Eden to creation.
This story of creation and the human calling to image God includes mathematics. Simone Weil suggests the mathematical realm “is first, before all, a sort of mystical poem composed by God himself” and Polkinghorne—although not as mystical as Weil—similarly describes it as a “noetic realm of reality” created for exploration. Drawing on Eugene Wigner’s argument about mathematics’ unreasonable effectiveness for application to the sciences, Polkinghorne suggests, “The role of mathematics in physics could be summarized as the discovery that the structure of the physical world, in its rational transparency and beauty, is shot through with signs of mind. The natural theologian can respond that this is the case because the mind of the creator is reflected in the character of creation. The reason within and the reason without fit together because they have a common origin in the rationality of God.” Mathematical structure is apparent under the hood of the physical world and its character—its knowability and beauty— reflects the creator.
Weil takes things a step further and sees the character of the mathematical realm as mystically intertwined with morality and spirituality. She writes, “There is an analogy between the fidelity of the right-angled triangle to the relationship which forbids it to emerge from the circle of which its hypotenuse is the diameter, and that of a man who, for example, abstains from the acquisition of power or of money at the price of fraud. The first may be regarded as a perfect example of the second.”
To Weil, there is a connection between the fidelity, restraint, and constancy shown by a right triangle inscribed in a circle and the fidelity, self-control, and proper restraint shown by humans in relation to things like money and power. She continues, “It is thus the image of the creative will of God which upholds equally all that exists. It is to this creative will that our consent must adhere.” On Weil’s account, everything—including the mathematical realm—is upheld by the creative will of God and thus a place where people can encounter the grandeur of the Triune God. To adapt a phrase from Andrew Wilson: the mathematical world, like the rest of creation, is theomorphic because it is created to reveal God.
In light of this truth, we should explore and enjoy the mathematical realm like the rest of God’s creation. Su suggests three of the most basic human desires that entice us to do mathematics are exploration, play, and beauty. Su defines mathematics as “the science of patterns and the art of engaging the meaning of those patterns” and says it is for human flourishing. He furthermore argues that “the proper practice of mathematics cultivates virtues that help people flourish” and “movement toward virtue is aroused by basic human desires.”
As such, the practice of mathematics—when done out of a desire for exploration, play, and beauty—can cultivate virtues like an expectation of enchantment, hopefulness, joyful gratitude, and transcendent awe. When people explore new mathematical ideas, they encounter unexpected phenomena that can delight, thrill, and point to the sacramentality of creation. Thus, mathematical exploration is both an opportunity to encounter the creative transcendence of God infused in creation and be conformed to the image of God in Christ. It is part of our vocation as image bearers to rule, reign, and enjoy creation.
And Lord Jesus, you identify so closely with children that you said whoever welcomes children, welcomes you.
The second part of the prayer focuses on students and the special task of educators. Our Lord, when he emptied himself and descended to life on earth, spent much of his time with vulnerable people who the world wrote off—including children. Emily McGowin writes, “Children are among those people with whom Jesus so closely identifies that they become a sacramental sign. The hungry, the thirsty, the stranger, the unclothed, the sick, the imprisoned, children—Jesus says of all these that to welcome and serve them is to welcome and serve him (see Matthew 18:5; 25:40; Mark 9:37).”
So, in addition to the potential for encountering God in the created mathematical realm, teachers of mathematics also encounter him in their pupils. N.T. Wright, citing Matthew 25, describes it this way: “There’s a close fit between welcoming and recognizing the Christ who comes to us as the one who fills heaven and earth and who now mysteriously fills this bread and wine, and the Christ who comes to us in the face of those in need whom we meet on the street or elsewhere.” Combining McGowin’s and Wright’s insights: children’s genuine need for instruction as well as their vulnerability should elevate them in the Christian life.
Accordingly, Jesus’ stern warning in Matthew 18 about misleading children shouldn’t surprise us. Eugene Peterson paraphrases Jesus’ warning like this: “But if you give them [believing children] a hard time, bullying or taking advantage of their simple trust, you’ll soon wish you hadn’t. You’d be better off dropped in the middle of the lake with a millstone around your neck.” Jesus did not directly refer to the teaching of mathematics, but he demonstrated concern for the spiritual and moral formation of children. Therefore, since the teaching of mathematics has moral and spiritual dimensions, we should take our (formal or informal) role as teachers of mathematics seriously.
Therefore, Spirit, in light of these truths, help us create learning environments where students are welcomed and loved so that every mathematical interaction with a child might point to your kingdom of shalom.
The third and final part of the prayer weaves ideas from Su with a call for the Spirit’s aid. In addition to exploration, play, and beauty, Su identifies several other basic human desires that draw us to the practice of mathematics including our desire for justice, community, and love. Mathematical spaces—whether in the home, at school, or in an after-school program—are often unnecessarily exclusive and alienating. People carry lots of biased assumptions about who is and isn’t a math person, and we’ve created narrow metrics to determine if someone is “good” or “bad” at math. To put it plainly: mathematical learning environments are sometimes characterized more by vice rather than virtue.
But Su explains how the practice of mathematics, when rooted in basic human desires like justice, community, freedom, and love, can cultivate the virtues of hospitality, attention to people, vulnerability, fearlessness in asking questions, and empathy for the marginalized. Mathematical learning environments—like the atmosphere of a game night with friends—can demand intellectual rigor and simultaneously be welcoming and low-stakes.
In addition to the previously listed virtues, Su suggests that mathematics can cultivate the virtue of love. Su explains: “to love through and because of mathematics is to build hopefulness, to cultivate creativity, to promote reflection, to foster a thirst for deep knowledge and investigation, to encourage in ourselves and one another a disposition toward beauty and all the other virtues.” Thus, there is a simple starting point for practicing the virtue of love vis-à-vis teaching mathematics: believe that you and all your students can learn and enjoy mathematics.
Mathematical learning environments that are characterized by unconditional love serve as a signpost pointing towards God’s kingdom of peace. We have been liberated from sin and death for life with God—and mathematics should be part of that Edenic life! As Su writes, “A society without mathematical affection is like a city without concerts, parks, or museums. To miss out on mathematics is to live without an opportunity to play with beautiful ideas and see the world in a new light.” The new Jerusalem—that garden city which will one day descend from heaven—will teem with mathematical affection. God will restore broken relationships vis-à-vis mathematics, and the mathematical anxieties and frustrations of the present age will fade away.
Until that time, may the Triune God make all our living—including our practice of mathematics—a sacrament of him. He graciously welcomes us into his inner divine life of love and we can reflect him as we explore and enjoy the mathematical realm he created.