The Hard-to-Swallow 
Bits 
Fr. Tony’s Midweek 
Message 
May 1, 2019 
Jean Piaget, the 
great developmental psychologist of the mid-20th century, focused 
most of his work on how complex adult thinking and reasoning grows from the 
simpler more naïve thought processes of children. One of the 
progressions in reasoning he noted early on involved children having problems 
estimating and comparing volumes of which glass held more water. Children 
younger than six or so had problems estimating basic spatial relationships: when 
they saw a normal tumbler filled with water emptied in its entirety into a tall 
skinny Champagne flute, they usually would say that a tall skinny glass held 
more than the tumbler, though no additional water was added, because, as they 
all eagerly pointed out, “the water is higher, and that means more.” He 
discovered that it was pointless for adults to explain the logic correcting the 
children’s error (“It’s the same water with nothing added or taken away, so it 
must be the same amount, regardless of the shape of the 
glass.”) The kids could not see the point until their 
reasoning and cognitive skills had developed to a more advanced stage, and they 
had discovered intuitively the principle of the conservation of volume by 
playing with water and glasses on their own.  
We all are hostages 
to our own limits in perception and reasoning. We all have 
blind spots, to which, by definition, we are blind. As Donald 
Rumsfeld put it, “there are things we know, things we don’t know and know we 
don’t know, and things we don’t know we don’t know.” Further 
experience and growth might mean that light is shed on such blind spots, or 
maybe not.  
Imagine a world 
existing in only two dimensions: length and width. Beings 
living in such a world could see things only through these two 
dimensions. A sphere crossing such a world would be seen by 
its flat-land inhabitants as first a point, then a circle that gradually grows 
and then shrinks until it is a point again and then 
disappears. A cube crossing the plane of the flat-land would 
appear as a square only and then disappear. No amount of 
reasoning or mathematical modeling would change the flatlanders’ inability to 
perceive volume and depth.  
Most religious 
traditions have always asserted that our world is like 
that: we see only limited aspects of the truth, and are unable 
to escape our own perceptual limitations. The spirituality of 
contemplation and the discipline of careful reasoning and scholarship seek to 
break through the blind spots. And in this, one of the most 
important solvents of our limitations are the things that seem totally 
unpredicted and unreasonable in our lives, the things that our normal 
perceptions and reasoning cannot account for.  
For Christians, the 
story of the resurrection of Jesus is a central narrative that serves as a 
solvent of seeing the world through the eyes of the senses 
only. The story should bother us: it is 
unprecedented and not-to-be repeated. It goes against everything we 
think we know about the world. Even this story’s details 
evolved and grew in the telling, and this makes many of us doubt how helpful the 
story can be in breaking down our misperceptions of life and death.  
It is the hard bits, 
those most difficult to swallow, that hold the greatest power in breaking down 
our limited view. But for that to happen, we need to patiently 
grow and develop new doors of perception, and spend time “playing with the water 
glasses.” This in practical terms means hearing the stories again and again, 
living out their truth in the small ways we are capable 
of. This is what Church is all about.  
Grace and 
peace.  
      
Fr. Tony +

 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 

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