I try to avoid abstract philosophical or theological reasoning on this site. This is not because I don't think it's important or because I can't do it, but rather because I try to ground what I write and think about here in the context of experience, primarily because my experiences shape everything that I think or do. To say otherwise opens the door to deception, I think - there are often few things more frightening or destructive than a self-assured person convinced of his or her own objectivity. The minute I replace my perspective with an assumption that my thoughts are actually quite objective and impersonal, I dance along the dangerous line of equating my perspective with God's, and I'm screwed up enough to realize that there is often quite a gap - hopefully a shrinking gap as the image of Christ is formed in me, as Paul wrote, but real nonetheless - between the two perspectives.

I realize that this view is not held by everyone, and that the desire for objective knowledge is alive and well in many Christian circles. I try to respect this position. However, I've happened on a few arguments lately that I find frustrating and, frankly, naive in relation to the notion of "absolute truth". I've been pondering one in particular that seems to often serve as the absolutist's trump card, when, in fact, it's a great illustration of why I firmly believe in the necessity of identifying one's perspective. The argument: 2 + 2 = 4 is an example of an absolute, universal truth that cannot be argued.

Let me throw out a contrary opinion. 2 + 2 most certainly does not always equal 4, and our failure to recognize this simply illustrates why we are in troubling epistemological waters when we fail to consider carefully how we speak. And, for those of you who are now assuming that I am quite insane, grant me the liberty of demonstrating why 2 + 2 will sometimes equal 11 and sometimes has absolutely no meaning whatsoever.

Any talk of mathematics assumes a particular radix or referent number around which all of its symbols revolve. This number is also known as the base, and for most of us the only system that we consciously use is base 10, or the decimal system. (This should start to make sense in a minute, if you're wondering where I'm going with this.) However, the decimal system is not the only system that we use. Although we don't realize it, we use a base 2 system literally every day - it's called binary, and forms the basis for virtually all electronic programming. Similarly, base 16 (hexadecimal) is sort of like binary on steroids, and often shows up in html as color references (for example). There's also a base 3, or ternary, system that is occasionally used; functionally, there can be pretty much an endless number of systems with different radixes so long as symbols exist to refer to the number, because the numeral "10" in our written system is always used to refer to the base. So...what is the significance? From wikipedia (emphasis mine):

A numeral system (or system of numeration) is a framework where a set of numbers are represented by numerals in a consistent manner. It can be seen as the context that allows the numeral "11" to be interpreted as the Roman numeral for two, the binary numeral for three or the decimal numeral for eleven.

In other words, when does 2 + 2 = 4? In most systems - but not ternary, where 4 is nonsensical (because the numeral 10 represents the decimal number 3) and the actual correct response is 11, and not in binary, where 2 is nonsensical, and not in quaternary (base 4), where the correct response is 10. So the correct response to the formula 2 + 2 = _ actually depends on one's frame of reference, making it a perspectival statement and not an objective one. It all depends on one's context for interpretation.

I'm all done now. We now return you to your regularly scheduled program.