Taking A Leap Of Faith

The kids had anchored a plank of wood under the gate so that it protruded over and beyond the four steps that lead down to the playground, creating a "diving board." It was one of those games that survived from year to year in the institutional memory housed in the children themselves -- they had seen older children do it when they were younger and now they were the older children.

At first it was just the big kids, queuing up, and taking turns springing into the air. I had once played Olympics-style judge, arbitrarily awarding 7.6's and 3.2's, so now that was the necessary part I played in the game. If I forgot or was distracted, the kids were sure to prompt me from where they lay sprawled on the ground, "What score did I get?" taking satisfaction in whatever I said.

Before long, some of the younger children began to watch, then some joined the queue. Whereas the older kids hurled themselves willy nilly into space, these inexperienced kids, moved cautiously, inching their way along the plank. Some wanted me to hold their hand, to which I would answer, "I won't hold your hand, but I'll stand closer so I can catch you if you fall." This assurance was enough for some, but others, after long hesitations during which they contemplated the situation, backed out.

Usually, the older kids were patient, even encouraging. "You can do it!" they would call out or "Don't be afraid!" I don't know if "afraid" was the right word for how they were feeling, but most were clearly trepidatious as they balanced unsurely, then stood contemplating the leap of faith before them.

In our secular society, we hold it as a virtue when one believes nothing without sufficient evidence. That is one of the primary edicts of science and logic, after all. This is why religious faith so often stands in contrast, even defiance, to the world around it. The older children didn't need faith to run off the end of the diving board because they could rely upon the evidence of past experience, but the younger children only had the evidence of watching other, more experienced, children. They didn't yet have sufficient evidence that they themselves could survive that leap, so they hesitated there in their doubt.

We've all been there, standing on the edge, contemplating a leap, actual or metaphorical. Indeed, one could argue that this is what life is: having faith that we can succeed without persuasive evidence that we can. As the philosopher William James asserted, "It is only by risking our persons from one hour to another that we live at all."

As these three-year-olds crouched at the end of the plank, they were summoning courage, which is what we all do when faced with a leap of faith. It is a radical act in this world in which we've raised sufficient evidence and "objective truth" to stand beside the gods. Because in this moment, what that child is doing, what we all must do, is choose what is true and either leap or not. When the child finally jumps, and most of them do, it is because they ultimately choose to trust themselves, the universe, and themselves in the universe, despite evidence, either way, that they can expect to land safely.

The whole idea of choosing truth is the radical act, one that much of the modern world is built around denying. Our school system is founded upon the dictates of right and wrong answers. Success, they tell us, is based upon hard work, planning, and being realistic about our goals. Every one of us has been told we can dream of reaching the stars, but first we must have a fall-back plan, like accounting. We pad the fall zones and corners. We seek, at every step, to take the risk out of children's play, preventing them from climbing too high or running too fast. 

When the children finally do leap, it is always a decision made without sufficient evidence, which is, by definition an act of courage or faith or trust. This is the great secret of success in life. 

When a child, or any of us, stands at the edge, contemplating a leap, actual or metaphorical, we are engaged in the radical act of choosing truth. And when we leap, that's when we live.

******

 

"Teacher Tom, our caped hero of all things righteous in the early childhood world, inspires us to be heroic in our own work with young children, and reminds us that it is the children who are the heroes of the story as they embark on adventures of discovery, wonder, democracy, and play." ~Rusty Keeler

If you liked reading this post, you might also enjoy one of my books. To find out more, Click here! 

I put a lot of time and effort into this blog. If you'd like to support me please consider a small contribution to the cause. Thank you!