Belief and Diesel

I've always thought the advice to the Philippian jailer was over simplistic when he said: Sirs, what must I do to be saved? And they said, Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and you will be saved. To give credit, the Greek pistis "belief", often translated "faith", includes the idea of wholly putting one's trust in something or someone. Whereas the modern English "belief" is sometimes much weaker as in "I believe it is going to rain this afternoon". So the above might better read "Put your trust wholly in the..."

One of our diesel vehicles had inadvertently been topped up with petrol (maybe 50% mix). I did not realise this until well on the way to Dublin to take Ali to an appointment. The engine ran lumpy but we got there, turned the engine off and did what we came for, but then I couldn't start it again. I got talking to the guy who we called out to drain the tank and we started discussing religion. He claimed to be a humanist atheist and said he believed only what he could see proof for, which definitely didn't include God. But apparently it did include some very wacky things like UFO's and life on other planets and the Jesus story being no more than a rehash of the Egyptian god Horus and did I know that Jesus condoned killing his enemies? When I got home and checked up on his points it quickly became apparent that there was a good deal less proof for his ideas than my Christian ones. But he was not the kind of gent that would be easily persuaded against his will and I'm not much use in debating (my brain works too slowly).  So we parted company each wondering how the other could possibly believe what he claimed.

Rachel Nuwer argues that the reason a god-shaped hole seems to exist in our species’ neuropsychology is due to a quirk of our evolution.  She says we have two very basic forms of thought: System 1 and System 2. System 2 evolved relatively recently. It’s the voice in our head – the narrator who never seems to shut up – that enables us to plan and think logically. System 1, on the other hand, is intuitive, instinctual and automatic... It makes us prone to looking for patterns to better understand our world, and to seek meaning for seemingly random events like natural disasters or the death of loved ones. Hence religion and her conclusion “There will always be people who believe, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they remain the majority”. But implied is that she doesn't.

In their paper "The biochemistry of belief" the authors quote Anton Chekhov as saying “Man is what he believes” and summarise that Beliefs are basically the guiding principles in life that provide direction and meaning in life. By way of example they mention the placebo effect: Medical history is replete with numerous reported cases where placebos were found to have a profound effect on a variety of disorders. One such astounding case was that of a woman suffering from severe nausea and vomiting. Objective measurements of her gastric contractions indicated a disrupted pattern matching the condition she complained of. Then a ‘new, magical, extremely potent’ drug was offered to her, which would, the doctors proclaimed, undoubtedly cure her nausea. Within a few minutes, her nausea vanished! 

We are motivated by belief at many levels. I can get out of breath jogging to my daughter's place a quarter mile down the road. When I tackle a long run like Church Mountain I have to first believe that I can do it (running barefoot with significant ascent and descent) and so far this has worked. Indeed I have just returned from such a run. I made it back albeit feeling like I couldn't have gone a step further, quod erat demonstrandum...

 distance 14.54 miles

 average speed moving 4.94 mph

 elevation gain 733m

 maximum elevation 541m

My track 

My lake, viewed from the summit

Looking south, the bump on the horizon centre left is Baltinglass Hill

What if the tenets of Christianity were untrue? Perhaps it might still be beneficial to believe in them, as in my recent post does it matter what one believes. This of course is the Puddleglum argument. But how much better if it the object of our belief could be shown to be true. And here's the catch: what does it take to show that something is true?  We take for granted that things we can sense are true, although even that is debatable. The rest: the makeup of an atom, the distance to far-off galaxies, the big bang and evolution (or creation) of man, the resurrection of Jesus, and whether the ladder I am about to climb will hold my weight... we take on trust. We have to believe else we cannot function. Whether or not the likes of Richard Dawkins agrees, it is clear to me that even atheists have to believe / have faith in their tenets.

Of people set in their ways Jesus remarked: neither will they be convinced if someone should rise from the dead. And such conviction apparently comes only as a result of action taken by God on our behalf. Which places me in an unenviable position if I happen to doubt, as I do.

Railways I have known

My father was a model railway enthusiast.  He had an attic full of OO-gauge railway, and I contributed as a second train operator and the signalling engineer (see my 'Inventions' page).  The railway room was a frequent Sunday afternoon destination.  My mother had zero interest and was a bit jealous of the attention devoted to the railway.  I would wait until my father would mysteriously disappear - then would check around and end up climbing the steep ladder to the attic.  Now as I try to rationalise I think the interest for me was the time-and-motion study in judging train speed (hence my inertial control) and enjoying how well (yes, really) my signalling system worked.  Strange that my mother had no interest.  My sisters occasionally would come up but their interest was more in moving model people around on the platform and making up stories - quite at variance with my own interest.

I remember my parents invited a young man (but older than me and not in my peer group) to stay for lunch after church and the afternoon.  Perhaps his parents were away.  He also expressed zero interest in the model railway, when asked, which frustrated me because it meant we had to stay downstairs and "entertain" him.  I have never had much time for entertaining people.  People should not need to be entertained IMHO.

The other railway in my life (apart from my general interest - to this day I reckon I could have enjoyed a career as a train driver) was the line from Winchester to Alton.  British Rail closed the line in 1973 but the stretch from Alresford to Alton has now thankfully been resurrected by a preservation society and is known as the Mid Hants railway or the Watercress line.

Every school morning at about 08:10, having gulped down some breakfast, I would start running to the station.  It was invariably a close shave - I liked my bed in those days.  The train left at 08:25 I think.  There were rare occasions when I arrived too late, and unless someone was willing to drive me in that meant a detention.  There were prefects posted to catch latecomers.

From Winchester Junction to Alton it is single line so was operated on the tablet or token system.  The walk-way from which the signalman would exchange the token is visible to the right of the box in the picture above, the branch line to Alresford being to the right of that.  This picture is a thumbnail taken from a site where they want you to pay good money for a not much bigger version.

The picture below is taken just after leaving the main line Up line.  The perspective in this picture is odd - in fact the curve was very steep, with a guard / check rail, and the wheels squeaked unmercifully.  It concerned me at the time that perhaps each time metal was being pared off.

In railway terms in the UK 'up' always refers to going towards, and 'down' away from London.  Outside of railway terminology you go 'up' from most places in the world to London, but you go 'down' from Oxford (or Cambridge) to London.  I thought you needed to know that.

The only station between Winchester and Alresford is (was) Itchen Abbas, shown below.  I am told that the property of one or more houses now crosses the path of the old railway, which spells little hope that this section of the line will ever be restored.

The station at Alresford has two lines to allow trains to pass.  The next picture shows the up train waiting on the left and the down train arriving.  This view is so ingrained in my memory that I can almost feel myself there as I look at it.  The foul weather in the picture was typical of winter mornings.  There was no pedestrian bridge in those days: in the mornings I would cross over to the down platform using the crossing visible.  Back in those days this was not considered unsafe.  Now-a-days people get jittery about such things.  Such people seem to delight in taking the fun out of our lives.

The rolling stock was a two (or sometimes three) carriage diesel set.  Back in those days we had pennies.  Americans still call their cent pieces pennies, but a real penny is 12 to the shilling and 20 shillings to the pound sterling (or indeed Irish punt) and about 31mm in diameter.  Having previously been to Eastleigh Railway Works where I saw a penny being squashed under a steam hammer, I figured a train wheel might have the same effect so I placed one on the rail at the crossing just as the down train was due.  The signalman (Mr. Norris by name, may God rest his soul) leaped down the stairs from the box and ran to where I was (the train was coming closer) and scolded me most severely in front of my peers.  His point was that little pennies grow into big pennies and big pennies kill.  He did right.  I have never forgotten that lesson.

I enjoyed the train ride every morning and evening.  It was a special part of the day totally to yourself - no parents and no teachers to nag you.  To this day I am happy travelling on a train - anywhere, any length.

The pictures above are more recent now the line is operated by the preservation society, but similar rolling stock to that which we travelled to school in.  Of course they also run steam trains.  There is possibly no smell as sweet as that of a steam engine.  There is possibly no man made machine as elegant as a steam engine.