Final Exam Essays: Eli Hainsworth

Short Essay: Religion and Rhetoric


Earlier this week, I saw one of my friends post an article about tone policing: refusing to listen to an argument in the way it is presented, allowing one person to strong-arm the tone of the discussion. Although my friend was protesting what they saw as a social justice issue, I saw an underlying truth to rhetoric. The tone used when presenting an argument becomes part of the argument itself. This truth is responsible for a complicated relationship between religion snd rhetoric. Although Christians strive to be free of worldly influences, they must present their message in such a way where their audience accepts it.

The early growth of the church is an excellent model for this. Tertullian's famous question, "What does Jerusalem have to do with Athens?" can be found in early accounts of missionary work. When Paul gave his sermon at Mars Hill, he did not immediately identify the fact that he was speaking of the Christian God. Rather, he created suspense by withholding his thesis until the end. The Athenians, who were always milling about to hear some new thing, were most impressed by novelty, and this was the appeal Paul attempted to use.

C.S. Lewis' work, Mere Christianity, provides us with a more modern example. The book is divided into four sections, and the greater part of the first book tiptoes around mentioning God as the supreme ruler and giver of right and wrong until the author has had time to build up this base. Lewis freely admits that some would say he "tricked" them into having interest in God, but in his eyes, it was no trick at all. Rather, he knew that he was leading them up the mountain the whole time, and because he picked the most comfortable trail, he knew that his readers would continue to follow along with him. Then, when they reached the summit, he could show them a view which, if they could have seen it before, they would have yearned for all along.

The driving power behind religion is the word of God, delivered through those who speak in his name. God Himself describes the word as sharper than a two-edged sword, and it is the duty of Christians everywhere to present the word in a way that will pierce the hearts of those who hear.




Short Essay #2: Rhetorical Analysis of Jacob 2­3 (Book of Mormon)


Jacob's Sermon in the Book of Mormon is often considered one of the most eloquent speeches in the thousand-year record. Both the spirituality and the wording of the text has a powerful effect upon the reader, and it is very easy to feel the guilt that his words were meant to inspire in sinners.

One of Jacob's most used techniques involves humanizing sin and the marks it leaves. He repeatedly describes them as injuries, using phrases such as "many hearts died, pierced with deep wounds". Interestingly, he treats the concept of the gospel in a similar fashion. Although introducing it as a comfortable relief, he quickly points out that it also expands wounds and pierces the heart like daggers. This exergasia is a very effective means of creating urgency in the crowd. The same image of hearts being pierced and dying is used at the end with a touch of epitasis. Although Jacob had already made his point very clear, the final verse of chapter two leaves a strong aftertaste.

Chapter three introduces an interesting comparison. Systematic racism against the Lamanites had taken strong root, and Jacob used this xenophobia to hammer home another point. While speaking of becoming black, Jacob employs syllepsis  to create the link between the darkening of skin and the much more serious darkening of a soul. This same point is driven home with syncrisis in his concluding remarks: "Neither shall ye revile against them because of their filthiness; but ye shall remember your own filthiness, and remember that their filthiness came because of their fathers."

Although the Spitit behind Jacob's words carry the message, it was Jacob's own distinct style that shaped it. The power of his speech continues to touch hearts today.

The Problem of Poor Data

The lights glare down on a sparkling stage, where several young women nervously face the judges. The year is 2007, and the future Ms. Teen USA is in this group. The judge proceeds down the aisle. Unknown to all present, a piece of YouTube comedy gold is about to be born. Turning to Ms. South Carolina, she asks her to explain the problem of political unawareness in the United States. In a moment, it becomes obvious that she is the queen of the unaware. Stammering, a cascade of disconnected words tumble from her mouth: "personally believe... and the maps... Iraq". The blended mess of buzzwords fades out and the audience claps uneasily. Besides the several data points evident on the internet, the world had a new reason to distrust teenage selfie-posters as a reliable source of information.

Chuckle at this story though we may, it underlines a serious issue that may be illustrated with a simple venn diagram.
The world we live in takes its financial advice from advertisers, accepts dieting tips from fashion magazines, and awards the camera to whoever represents an opinion in the most obnoxious way possible. The casual manner that we adopt while tossing around statistics is particularly disturbing. An old joke claims that 87 percent of statistics are made up on the spot, but the truth of the statement overshadows the humor. Statistics are supposed to be the gatekeeper of truth, but all too often, pundits and presidents misquote or mislead using these very tools. Although such data is invaluable, social integrity and decency both dictate that statistics should be regulated in a way that does not skew the truth.

Annotated Working Draft of Final Project and Hot Spots in Statistical Analysis

Component Assignments:

1. Communication and Persuasion in Statistical Analysis

   In a world where push polls are digested as often as big macs, statisticians provide a bridge between the data and the consumer. Although this role is essential, most people are turned away by the complex inner workings, causing stats to speak differently to outsiders than they do to each other.

2. Storytelling in Stats

   I attempted to use this post to demonstrate the powerful effect of wording to collect data. On the collection side of stats, something as simple as the syntax used to phrase a sentence can completely swing a large percentage of a sample.

3. History of Ripping People Off With Math
   This post focused a lot on the reasons and speeds certain fields of statistics and probabilities developed. I put a particular emphasis on how the evolution of stats was almost always caused by somebody trying to get an unfair advantage over another. 

4. Institutional Authority and Communication in Stats
   My most recent post explored the importance of technology in statistical communication. Having to rel on technology that is isn't intuitive to statisticians, many a man has been frustrated by fighting against clunky technology.
   
   Hotspots:
   
   1. Since stats are entirely dependent upon technology, those who can't use a computer will not survive very long in the field. At the same time, the technology often feels clunky and outdated. The frustrating part is that there are clearly better options available, and the old ones are there acting as barriers.
   
   
   2. Someone once said that if you want to tell a clever lie, use statistics. Misleading statistics are a common problem, and misinformation is an art that shows up everywhere from smoking and cancer to civil rights discussions. There is a need to keep the public educated toward general statistics and find a way to prevent small groups from manipulating data.

Institutional Authority and Communication in Stats

It takes a great amount of power to get to know SAS

Another early morning, and my brain was hitting a wall. I had no idea why mastering this software was so difficult. My knowledge of statistics was among the best in the class, and I enjoyed the subject. The constant wall-banging that SAS brought to my door was less enjoyable.

SAS made me sad. The system was designed to be a statistician's friend but, like an expired microwave burrito, gave you much more pain than satisfaction. The software is unintuitive, clunky, and not designed for statisticians. The price tag on it was no laughing matter either: for that price, I could have easily doubled my fleet of Lego spaceships. The system had been designed before the computer that would one day host it, and had aged just as well as the phonograph. My career was riding on the back of a long dead dinosaur.

I stared at the keyboard again. For the life of me, I couldn't figure out the homework. The task was a simple one: load a program. I had been doing it on Microsoft Word for years. Yet, this stubbornly unmoving program did nothing for me.

To make things worse, I was learning how to use R at the same time. I like R. R is the friend whose interests are written on his sleeves. R is the roommate who understands that he needs to do his dishes before the girl you like comes over, and then offers to do a little more. The software on R was much more intuitive than on SAS, and the program was free, to boot. While we were still learning how to read files on SAS, we had already learned how to get our data to do cartwheels in R.

I flipped the SAS manual open again. The thing cut off the blood circulation on whatever knee I balanced it on, and it took a good few days to find the correct page, but it was my only hope. Surely, I thought, SAS could do at least one update per decade. I wouldn't have minded if SAS was not regulation equipment for every statistician. Little brother R was superior in every way, and the reminders of that fact were frequent and painful. With a bit of resignation in my heart, I packed my bag and made my way to the TA's to relearn the very fundamentals of an unfixed system perpetuated by another, nearly unfixable system.

Biblical Eloquence in Hebrews 7

Hebrews is one of my favorite passages of scripture. Unlike most of the Paulian Epistles, it was written to an audience whose Jewish background was extensive. They particularly understood the symbolism related to the temple and Priesthood. This made Paul's description vivid and powerful:

 1 For this Melchisedec, king of Salem, priest of the most high God, who met Abraham returning from the slaughter of the kings, and blessed him;

2 To whom also Abraham gave a tenth part of all; first being by interpretation King of righteousness, and after that also King of Salem, which is, King of peace;

 3 Without father, without mother, without descent, having neither beginning of days, nor end of life; but made like unto the Son of God; abideth a priest continually.

 4 Now consider how great this man was, unto whom even the patriarch Abraham gave the tenth of the spoils.

 5 And verily they that are of the sons of Levi, who receive the office of the priesthood, have a commandment to take tithes of the people according to the law, that is, of their brethren, though they come out of the loins of Abraham:

 6 But he whose descent is not counted from them received tithes of Abraham, and blessed him that had the promises.

 7 And without all contradiction the less is blessed of the better.

 8 And here men that die receive tithes; but there hereceiveth them, of whom it is witnessed that he liveth.

 9 And as I may so say, Levi also, who receiveth tithes, payed tithes in Abraham.

 10 For he was yet in the loins of his father, when Melchisedec met him.

 11 If therefore perfection were by the Levitical priesthood, (for under it the people received the law,) what further need was there that another priest should rise after the order of Melchisedec, and not be called after the order of Aaron?

 12 For the priesthood being changed, there is made of necessity a change also of the law.

 13 For he of whom these things are spoken pertaineth to another tribe, of which no man gave attendance at the altar.

 14 For it is evident that our Lord sprang out of Juda; of which tribe Moses spake nothing concerning priesthood.

 15 And it is yet far more evident: for that after the similitude of Melchisedec there ariseth another priest,

 16 Who is made, not after the law of a carnal commandment, but after the power of an endless life.

 17 For he testifieth, Thou art a priest for ever after the order of Melchisedec.

 18 For there is verily a disannulling of the commandment going before for the weakness and unprofitableness thereof.

 19 For the law made nothing perfect, but the bringing in of a better hope did; by the which we draw nigh unto God.

 20 And inasmuch as not without an oath he was made priest:

 21 (For those priests were made without an oath; but this with an oath by him that said unto him, The Lord sware and will not repent, Thou art a priest for ever after the order of Melchisedec:)

 22 By so much was Jesus made a surety of a better testament.

 23 And they truly were many priests, because they were not suffered to continue by reason of death:

 24 But this man, because he continueth ever, hath an unchangeable priesthood.

 25 Wherefore he is able also to save them to the uttermost that come unto God by him, seeing he ever liveth to make intercession for them.

 26 For such an high priest became us, who is holy, harmless, undefiled, separate from sinners, and made higher than the heavens;

 27 Who needeth not daily, as those high priests, to offer up sacrifice, first for his own sins, and then for the people’s: for this he did once, when he offered up himself.

 28 For the law maketh men high priests which have infirmity; but the word of the oath, which was since the law, maketh the Son, who is consecrated for evermore.

This chapter is a careful comparison between Christ and Melchisidec, designed in such a way that one familiar with Jewish lore coulod draw the parallels. I've picked some "impact lines", highlighted in blue, to examine how he does so. 

One of Paul's greatest tools was juxtaposition for the purpose of contrarium. Several times in this chapter, he compares the mortal, imperfect nature of earthly priests and the immortality and perfection of Christ. In verses 23 and 24, he uses this comparison to establish why there is only one high priest, and why it must be Christ. Christ, having overcome death, is in a unique position to hold power. While men eventually must pass on to death, Christ has no such weakness. The comparison powerfully drives this point home. 

Anemnesis is also used throughout. By calling to mind the actions of Abraham paying tithes, he reminds those with a Jewish background of the need for a mediator. As great a man as Abraham was, he was still reliant upon another, greater one for his temporal offering. In this way, Abraham stands in as a surrogate for us, and we realize that we must make our offering to and through Christ. 

History of Ripping People Off With Math

One of the earliest recorded uses of statistics was over 2400 years ago. A general, met with a well-guarded city, decided to exercise his cunning and math. Several men were charged with the seemingly menial task of counting bricks. The wise general knew that rather than measure the height of the wall, he could simply extrapolate the height of a single brick. Knowing the exact height of the wall, he bravely breached the city from the top of a ladder made of pure grit.

Statistics as we know it today is the youngest of the mathematics, clocking in around seventy years old. Although the principles have been around for a while, the technology necessary to run them effectively and accurately has only emerged within the virtual era. The same computers most use for FarmVille allows men to indisputably generate evidence for issues as large as smoking-induced cancer or climate change.

This guy will take your lottery money and your girl

Unsurprisingly, statistics also show up alarmingly often on the dark side. Many of the middle age uses of probability were used as a way to scam and cheat. In the 1770s, well-know philosopher Voltaire realized the chances of winning a lottery were high enough that he could make a fortune while playing. Similarly, one of the earliest computed probabilities were the sums of dice. This could of course be used to skew the odds with ease.

Not an assignment

[This is the story I wanted to share, but there's no way to tell it in less than 1000 words. Seeing as it's a legendary story, I thought I'd share it anyway]

The Legend of the Triple Bunk

Today, I opened a 2-liter Cream Soda which had evidently undergone much more than I expected. As I untwisted the cap, my kitchen was enveloped in an explosion of fizzy goodness.

Missionaries are a lot like that soda, except they usually contain less caffeine. Bottled up and filled with energy that simply can't be dispelled in an hour of PE time, missionaries become open to increasingly simplistic ways to release their troublemaking urges.

I'm sure the half dozen retired policemen who patrol the MTC had seen enough shenanigans to the point where they'd stop caring. That's why I was surprised one P-day when we arrived on our floor just in time to see the campus officer entering our room. I knew what had drawn him there. Two nights ago, we had combined two sets of bunk beds into a single, triple bunk, and then proceeded to show it off to the entire floor. Some misguided 2-day-old Elder had spilled the beans, and now we faced the very real possibility of finding out how it felt to be drawn and quartered.

I didn't care much for my companion, but this fear was enough to unite us, and we immediately ducked into the ajacent bedroom, cowering behind a set of bewildered Elders and yelling "cover us!" as we assumed fetal positions.

A few seconds passed, and then we heard the heavy footsteps and a door swinging closed. One of our allies stepped into the hall as the officer was leaving.

Do you know the Elders who live here?

Yessir.

Do you know where they are?

Probably doing their laundry. It's P-day.

When you find them, tell them that they need to come to the front desk. Do you understand?

Yes I will send them.

The Elder waited a few seconds, then came into the room and immediately procceeded to tell us how dead we were. With a feeling of dread, we ran through the campus in search of our roommates. In minutes, the bunk was dissembled, our trash thrown out, and our room unrecognizably innocent. The officer's proof was gone. The five of us sat there, basking in the feeling of mutual relief.

Then the speaker system blared "WILL ELDER TYLER BALDWIN PLEASE PICK UP THE HALL PHONE?"

My companion had been chosen,purely by alphabetical order, as our sacrificial lamb. He held the phone for a second, and then told us that we had to get our pants on ASAP. We were being summoned to the great front desk.

Although the lobby couches were comfortable, each of us were squirming uncomfortably. After a few seconds that stretched like an eternity before us, a lage man with a strong Australian accent filled the couch opposite us.

"Alright, Elders. Why are you in this training center?"

He spoke quietly, but far from lowering our fears, his voice increased them. He sounded as if he were ready to explode any second. Elder Nelson, a tall, skinny Elder who was very hard to scare, was the first to answer. We were all hoping that our stories would align.

"We're here to be missionaries, Sir,"

"Alright, Elder. And as representatives of the Lord, you are held to the highest of standards, is that correct?"

"Yes, sir."

This was it. The asccusation was coming. As I glanced down the row of faces, I could see signs of concern in each. We were each contemplating whether our missions were worth terminating because of one night of foolishness.

"Are you all living according to the standards and rules of the MTC"

"Yes, sir" Elder Nelson again.

"Then why the hell--" The profanity stung after not hearing any for two months. His voicce was rising now, "--is there--" this was it. He had definitely seen triple bunk. "--A MINI FRIDGE IN YOUR ROOM?"

It took a second for our brains to catch up with our ears. I stole a glance at the other Elders again, and I could see that each of them was mentally jamming out to Queen's "We Are the Champions". Trying our hardest to maintain our straight faces, I was the one who answered next.

"I'm sorry, officer. It was in the room when we arrived here. The other Elders said that the older group left it."

It was a half-truth. We had obtained the fridge our third week, from an elder who had needed it to refridgerate medicine. We used it mostly to hold the great volumes of soda that Elder Bressler's mom sent to us. We knew that our excuses wouldn't hold much water, so we agreed to leave the fridge outside for pick-up and pretended to be sad. We prepared to go, but as we were gathering up our bags, the officer managed to stare down all five of us at once.

"Not so fast," he said, "I have one other question for you.

The lumpy feeling returned as quickly as it had dissentegrated. He had saved his trump card for last.

"We sent an officer up to your room today, gentlemen," he said, reaching for a piece of paper as he spoke, "and he brought us this picture. I would like you Elders to explain this."

This was it. Undeniable evidence, printed and on record. We were so close to making it out of the MTC, so close to making it out of this uncomfortable interview. Fear clasped upon our hearts with its cold grip.

The officer turned over the photo so only he could see it. His eyes scanned the evidence, and he frowned slightly, then turned it to face us. We couldn't believe our eyes. It was a frontal view of our room, with the triple bunk center frame. However, the photographer we had seen earlier that day had done a terrible job. The top of the photo cut in such a way that the bed looked like a typical bunk bed, its third floor completely out of the frame.

The officer frowned again, turning the photo toward himself. "I'm honestly not sure why they took this photo, but your room is a mess. Make sure to clean this up."

Fighting back a smile, Elder Nelson answered as somberly as he could. "We already have, sir. It won't happen again."

"Good, you're dismissed. Now, enjoy your p-day, and I hope you have an excellent time up at the temple."

As we stepped outside, the air felt particularly fresh, and we skipped all the way up to the temple. Although we weren't filled with Cream Soda, we felt just as bubbly.

The Hobo's Bladder

The scene of the crime

Yeosu, Korea, may be the most beautiful city on earth. 95% of the city is a a breathtaking, set in a lush valley and stretching into the incredibly blue sea. Unfortunately, our chapel was located in the 5% that smelled like old ladies and older fish. The church was kept in excellent repair, but even so, there was a small section of tile at the bottom of the outside staircase that smelled unpleasantly like a sewer. The smell would be gone some days, but it always came back.

Other than the mysterious pee smell, my time in Yeosu was pleasant. I had spent most of my mission thinking that I was on President's bad side, and now I finally had evidence to the contrary. I had just been appointed district leader, and I had been given a young companion. The spiritual fate of this city rested upon my shoulders.

My confidence was immediately shot down no sooner than the first night. We were locking the doors of the church when I first caught a glimpse of the man at the bottom of the stairs. I had seen him around before; he was a ragged man who spent most of his time wandering the streets with a glazed look in his eye. Although I doubted he had come to our doors in search of spiritual enlightenment, I put on my missionary optimism pants and called down to him.

"Hello there! Looking for someone?"

He could not have given a worse response. Standing at the bottom of the stairs, he looked up at me as a very long string of drool bungeed from his mouth. Maintaining eye contact, he casually pulled down his pants. Although the stairs mercifully blocked the view, the sound of liquid hitting pavement filled in the blanks.

"Hey, uh, excuse me. You-- you can't pee there." I stumbled out in Korean, mentally adding it to my list of phrases I thought I would never say. "This place, uh, isn't a bathroom."

The utter shock of what was going on robbed me of my usual eloquence, and all I could to was weakly stutter threats. The man stood there, unblinking and uncaring. Neither of us would break eye contact.  My confidence was draining faster than his bladder. I was a servant of God. I had spent 19 years hearing that I could move mountains. Yet here I was, unable to move a hobo. My angry thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a zipper. The hobo had finished his work. Although his blank expression remained unchanged,  the slurping sound his drool made as he sucked it back into his mouth was an unmistakable victory song. The man stumbled away, leaving us to wallow in our defeat.

(I usually told this story to young missionaries when they got big heads. Now I just tell it to entertain)

SECOND VERSION

The Hobo's Bladder

We all knew hobo man. We saw him almost every day, in fact. He usually patrolled the few blocks  around the church. Hobo man seemed to hold no influence or power whatsoever [rumors] , and he seemed to be worth less than a two of hearts. What we forgot is that occasionally, an Ace can beat a King [metaphor].

Hobo man, although seemingly homeless, actually claimed more property than most real estate agencies. Although I didn't realize it at the time, he was perpetually marking his property. The pee stains on the bridge and in the market weren't accidents, they were conquests. If I had put the dots together, perhaps I could have protected the church. But once he had his eye on a piece of land, hobo man was unstoppable.

He arrived at the church at the same time we were leaving. He apparently hoped to erect his flag and something else [syllepsis] under the cover of night, but we caught him yellow-handed. Even so, the pleas of two foreigners wouldn't stop him. The pleas of the conquered had never stopped Alexander [comparison, degree].

Swiftly dropping his pants, hobo man wrote his name in an acidic pen, sanctifying this new territory with his filth. I tried to muster the power of an imprisoned Joseph Smith, but my attempted battlecries came out as whimpers. Hobo man paid them no heed, and I wondered whether my words were even coming out in Korean. He was absolutely immune to any criticism, any attempt to dislodge this unwanted conquerer was unfruitful. With a resolute zip, hobo man refastened his pants, and haughtily hobbled into the darkness. His cracked kingdom [alliteration], invisible to all but himself, was vast and powerful [contrast and contraries, antithesis]. He would conquer all.

The Doe's Downfall

The doe stood facing northward, as it always did. On its right side, it was a doe as strong as any other, but as to its left side, it was weak. With even a quick glance at the doe, the stark difference between her sharp dark brown eye and her dull gray one was evident. From its early childhood onward, the creature had suffered blindness in its left eye. Even so, it was no helpless prisoner of fate. Having half her vision maimed did not prevent this young deer from pluckily feeding in the open plains. By keeping its blind eye toward the sea, the deer found that all danger was within its view. But came the day shot down she would be, not from the land, but from the sea.

The doe did not view that particular morning as unusual. She took her normal stance, feeding by the shore, separating the tender blades of grass from the sand that surrounded them. Although the crew of the incoming ship made a raucous amount of noise, she dismissed it. She had become blind in more than just her eye.

Suddenly, a pain sprinted through her body. Her friend, the sea, had sent a Brutus to ensure her death. As she fell, her good eye now faced the seashore. She could see clearly now, if only for a second. The trust she had placed in the sea drained faster than her blood, and the vision in her right eye blurred to match her left.