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  • Joseph Nebus 6:00 pm on Tuesday, 18 April, 2017 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , Duncan Steel, Easter, Gregorian calendar,   

    What Is The Most Probable Date For Easter? What Is The Least? 


    If I’d started pondering the question a week earlier I’d have a nice timely post. Too bad. Shouldn’t wait nearly a year to use this one, though.

    My love and I got talking about early and late Easters. We know that we’re all but certainly not going to be alive to see the earliest possible Easter, at least not unless the rule for setting the date of Easter changes. Easter can be as early as the 22nd of March or as late as the 25th of April. Nobody presently alive has seen a 22nd of March Easter; the last one was in 1818. Nobody presently alive will; the next will be 2285. The last time Easter was its latest date was 1943; the next time will be 2038. I know people who’ve seen the one in 1943 and hope to make it at least through 2038.

    But that invites the question: what dates are most likely to be Easter? What ones are least? In a sense the question is nonsense. The rules establishing Easter and the Gregorian calendar are known. To speak of the “chance” of a particular day being Easter is like asking the probability that Grover Cleveland was president of the United States in 1894. Technically there’s a probability distribution there. But it’s different in some way from asking the chance of rolling at least a nine on a pair of dice.

    But as with the question about what day is most likely to be Thanksgiving we can make the question sensible. We have to take the question to mean “given a month and day, and no information about what year it is, what is the chance that this as Easter?” (I’m still not quite happy with that formulation. I’d be open to a more careful phrasing, if someone’s got one.)

    When we’ve got that, though, we can tackle the problem. We could do as I did for working out what days are most likely to be Thanksgiving. Run through all the possible configurations of the calendar, tally how often each of the days in the range is Easter, and see what comes up most often. There’s a hassle here. Working out the date of Easter follows a rule, yes. The rule is that it’s the first Sunday after the first full moon after the spring equinox. There are wrinkles, mostly because the Moon is complicated. A notional Moon that’s a little more predictable gets used instead. There are algorithms you can use to work out when Easter is. They all look like some kind of trick being used to put something over on you. No matter. They seem to work, as far as we know. I found some Matlab code that uses the Easter-computing routine that Karl Friedrich Gauss developed and that’ll do.

    Problem. The Moon and the Earth follow cycles around the sun, yes. Wait long enough and the positions of the Earth and Moon and Sun. This takes 532 years and is known as the Paschal Cycle. In the Julian calendar Easter this year is the same date it was in the year 1485, and the same it will be in 2549. It’s no particular problem to set a computer program to run a calculation, even a tedious one, 532 times. But it’s not meaningful like that either.

    The problem is the Julian calendar repeats itself every 28 years, which fits nicely with the Paschal Cycle. The Gregorian calendar, with different rules about how to handle century years like 1900 and 2100, repeats itself only every 400 years. So it takes much longer to complete the cycle and get Earth, Moon, and calendar date back to the same position. To fully account for all the related cycles would take 5,700,000 years, estimates Duncan Steel in Marking Time: The Epic Quest To Invent The Perfect Calendar.

    Write code to calculate Easter on a range of years and you can do that, of course. It’s no harder to calculate the dates of Easter for six million years than it is for six hundred years. It just takes longer to finish. The problem is that it is meaningless to do so. Over the course of a mere(!) 26,000 years the precession of the Earth’s axes will change the times of the seasons completely. If we still use the Gregorian calendar there will be a time that late September is the start of the Northern Hemisphere’s spring, and another time that early February is the heart of the Canadian summer. Within five thousand years we will have to change the calendar, change the rule for computing Easter, or change the idea of it as happening in Europe’s early spring. To calculate a date for Easter of the year 5,002,017 is to waste energy.

    We probably don’t need it anyway, though. The differences between any blocks of 532 years are, I’m going to guess, minor things. I would be surprised if the frequency of any date’s appearance changed more than a quarter of a percent. That might scramble the rankings of dates if we have several nearly-as-common dates, but it won’t be much.

    So let me do that. Here’s a table of how often each particular calendar date appears as Easter from the years 2000 to 5000, inclusive. And I don’t believe that by the year we would call 5000 we’ll still have the same calendar and Easter and expectations of Easter all together, so I’m comfortable overlooking that. Indeed, I expect we’ll have some different calendar or Easter or expectation of Easter by the year 4985 at the latest.

    For this enormous date range, though, here’s the frequency of Easters on each possible date:

    Date Number Of Occurrences, 2000 – 5000 Probability Of Occurence
    22 March 12 0.400%
    23 March 17 0.566%
    24 March 41 1.366%
    25 March 74 2.466%
    26 March 75 2.499%
    27 March 68 2.266%
    28 March 90 2.999%
    29 March 110 3.665%
    30 March 114 3.799%
    31 March 99 3.299%
    1 April 87 2.899%
    2 April 83 2.766%
    3 April 106 3.532%
    4 April 112 3.732%
    5 April 110 3.665%
    6 April 92 3.066%
    7 April 86 2.866%
    8 April 98 3.266%
    9 April 112 3.732%
    10 April 114 3.799%
    11 April 96 3.199%
    12 April 88 2.932%
    13 April 90 2.999%
    14 April 108 3.599%
    15 April 117 3.899%
    16 April 104 3.466%
    17 April 90 2.999%
    18 April 93 3.099%
    19 April 114 3.799%
    20 April 116 3.865%
    21 April 93 3.099%
    22 April 60 1.999%
    23 April 46 1.533%
    24 April 57 1.899%
    25 April 29 0.966%
    Bar chart representing the data in the table above.

    Dates of Easter from 2000 through 5000. Computed using Gauss’s algorithm.

    If I haven’t missed anything, this indicates that the 15th of April is the most likely date for Easter, with the 20th close behind and the 10th and 14th hardly rare. The least probable date is the 22nd of March, with the 23rd of March and the 25th of April almost as unlikely.

    And since the date range does affect the results, here’s a smaller sampling, one closer fit to the dates of anyone alive to read this as I publish. For the years 1925 through 2100 the appearance of each Easter date are:

    Date Number Of Occurrences, 1925 – 2100 Probability Of Occurence
    22 March 0 0.000%
    23 March 1 0.568%
    24 March 1 0.568%
    25 March 3 1.705%
    26 March 6 3.409%
    27 March 3 1.705%
    28 March 5 2.841%
    29 March 6 3.409%
    30 March 7 3.977%
    31 March 7 3.977%
    1 April 6 3.409%
    2 April 4 2.273%
    3 April 6 3.409%
    4 April 6 3.409%
    5 April 7 3.977%
    6 April 7 3.977%
    7 April 4 2.273%
    8 April 4 2.273%
    9 April 6 3.409%
    10 April 7 3.977%
    11 April 7 3.977%
    12 April 7 3.977%
    13 April 4 2.273%
    14 April 6 3.409%
    15 April 7 3.977%
    16 April 6 3.409%
    17 April 7 3.977%
    18 April 6 3.409%
    19 April 6 3.409%
    20 April 6 3.409%
    21 April 7 3.977%
    22 April 5 2.841%
    23 April 2 1.136%
    24 April 2 1.136%
    25 April 2 1.136%
    Bar chart representing the data in the table above.

    Dates of Easter from 1925 through 2100. Computed using Gauss’s algorithm.

    If we take this as the “working lifespan” of our common experience then the 22nd of March is the least likely Easter we’ll see, as we never do. The 23rd and 24th are the next least likely Easter. There’s a ten-way tie for the most common date of Easter, if I haven’t missed one or more. But the 30th and 31st of March, and the 5th, 6th, 10th, 11th, 12th, 15th, 17th, and 21st of April each turn up seven times in this range.

    The Julian calendar Easter dates are different and perhaps I’ll look at that sometime.

     
    • ksbeth 7:34 pm on Tuesday, 18 April, 2017 Permalink | Reply

      Very interesting

      Liked by 1 person

    • mx. fluffy 💜 (@fluffy) 11:51 pm on Thursday, 20 April, 2017 Permalink | Reply

      I’m surprised there’s such a periodicity in the modal peaks! What happens if you extend the computations out for a few more millennia? Do they even out or get even more pronounced?

      Like

      • Joseph Nebus 2:59 am on Tuesday, 25 April, 2017 Permalink | Reply

        I’m surprised by it too, yes. If we pretend that the current scheme for calculating Easter would be meaningful, then, extended over the full 5,700,000-year cycle … the peaks don’t disappear. The 19th of April turns up as Easter about 3.9 percent of the time. Next most likely are the 18th, 17th, 15th, 12th, and 10th of April.

        I don’t know just what causes this. I suspect it’s some curious interaction between the 19-year Metonic cycle of the lunar behavior and the very slight asymmetries the Gregorian calendar. The 21st of March is a tiny bit more likely to be a Tuesday, Wednesday, or Sunday than it is any other day of the week. My hunch is these combine to make the little peaks that linger.

        The 22nd of March and 25th of April are the least common Easters; the 23rd and 24th of March, then 24th of April, come slightly more commonly.

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  • Joseph Nebus 6:00 pm on Tuesday, 28 February, 2017 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , , Gregorian calendar, Julian Dates, , , US Naval Observatory   

    How To Work Out The Length Of Time Between Two Dates 


    September 1999 was a heck of a month you maybe remember. There that all that excitement of the Moon being blasted out of orbit thanks to the nuclear waste pile up there getting tipped over or something. And that was just as we were getting over the final new episode of Mystery Science Theater 3000‘s first airing. That episode was number 1003, Merlin’s Shop of Mystical Wonders, which aired a month after the season finale because of one of those broadcast rights tangles that the show always suffered through.

    Time moves on, and strange things happen, and show co-creator and first host Joel Hodgson got together a Kickstarter and a Netflix deal. The show’s Season Eleven is supposed to air starting the 14th of April, this year. The natural question: how long will we go, then, between new episodes of Mystery Science Theater 3000? Or more generally, how do you work out how long it is between two dates?

    The answer is dear Lord under no circumstances try to work this out yourself. I’m sorry to be so firm. But the Gregorian calendar grew out of a bunch of different weird influences. It’s just hard to keep track of all the different 31- and 30-day months between two events. And then February is all sorts of extra complications. It’s especially tricky if the interval spans a century year, like 2000, since the majority of those are not leap years, except that the one century year I’m likely to experience was. And then if your interval happens to cross the time the local region switched from the Julian to the Gregorian calendar —

    So my answer is don’t ever try to work this out yourself. Never. Just refuse the problem if you’re given it. If you’re a consultant charge an extra hundred dollars for even hearing the problem.

    All right, but what if you really absolutely must know for some reason? I only know one good answer. Convert the start and the end dates of your interval into Julian Dates and subtract one from the other. I mean subtract the smaller number from the larger. Julian Dates are one of those extremely minor points of calendar use. They track the number of days elapsed since noon, Universal Time, on the Julian-calendar date we call the 1st of January, 4713 BC. The scheme, for years, was set up in 1583 by Joseph Justus Scalinger, calendar reformer, who wanted for convenience an index year so far back that every historically known event would have a positive number. In the 19th century the astronomer John Herschel expanded it to date-counting.

    Scalinger picked the year from the convergence of a couple of convenient calendar cycles about how the sun and moon move as well as the 15-year indiction cycle that the Roman Empire used for tax matters (and that left an impression on European nations). His reasons don’t much matter to us. The specific choice means we’re not quite three-fifths of the way through the days in the 2,400,000’s. So it’s not rare to modify the Julian Date by subtracting 2,400,000 from it. The date starts from noon because astronomers used to start their new day at noon, which was more convenient for logging a whole night’s observations. Since astronomers started taking pictures of stuff and looking at them later they’ve switched to the new day starting at midnight like everybody else, but you know what it’s like changing an old system.

    This summons the problem: so how do I know many dates passed between whatever day I’m interested in and the Julian Calendar 1st of January, 4713 BC? Yes, there’s a formula. No, don’t try to use it. Let the fine people at the United States Naval Observatory do the work for you. They know what they’re doing and they’ve had this calculator up for a very long time without any appreciable scandal accruing to it. The system asks you for a time of day, because the Julian Date increases as the day goes on. You can just make something up if the time doesn’t matter. I normally leave it on midnight myself.

    So. The last episode of Mystery Science Theater 3000 to debut, on the 12th of September, 1999, did so on Julian Date 2,451,433. (Well, at 9 am Eastern that day, but nobody cares about that fine grain a detail.) The new season’s to debut on Netflix the 14th of April, 2017, which will be Julian Date 2,457,857. (I have no idea if there’s a set hour or if it’ll just become available at 12:01 am in whatever time zone Netflix Master Command’s servers are in.) That’s a difference of 6,424 days. You’re on your own in arguing about whether that means it was 6,424 or 6,423 days between new episodes.

    If you do take anything away from this, though, please let it be the warning: never try to work out the interval between dates yourself.

     
    • elkement (Elke Stangl) 9:31 am on Friday, 3 March, 2017 Permalink | Reply

      And I figured the routine date and time conversion mess you face as a software developer is a challenge ;-) …

      Like

      • Joseph Nebus 4:53 am on Saturday, 11 March, 2017 Permalink | Reply

        Oh you have no idea. In that one ancient database was designed with every column a string, and dates entered as literally, eg, ’03/10/2017′. That string of text. Which was all right when the date just had to be shown on-screen but then I had said it should be easy to include a date range, unaware of just what was in the database. Also, that there are so many mistakes too. Or people entering 00/00/0000 when the date wasn’t available.

        Liked by 1 person

  • Joseph Nebus 6:00 pm on Thursday, 1 December, 2016 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , , Gregorian calendar, , ,   

    When Is Thanksgiving Most Likely To Happen? 


    So my question from last Thursday nagged at my mind. And I learned that Octave (a Matlab clone that’s rather cheaper) has a function that calculates the day of the week for any given day. And I spent longer than I would have expected fiddling with the formatting to get what I wanted to know.

    It turns out there are some days in November more likely to be the fourth Thursday than others are. (This is the current standard for Thanksgiving Day in the United States.) And as I’d suspected without being able to prove, this doesn’t quite match the breakdown of which months are more likely to have Friday the 13ths. That is, it’s more likely that an arbitrarily selected month will start on Sunday than any other day of the week. It’s least likely that an arbitrarily selected month will start on a Saturday or Monday. The difference is extremely tiny; there are only four more Sunday-starting months than there are Monday-starting months over the course of 400 years.

    But an arbitrary month is different from an arbitrary November. It turns out Novembers are most likely to start on a Sunday, Tuesday, or Thursday. And that makes the 26th, 24th, and 22nd the most likely days to be Thanksgiving. The 23rd and 25th are the least likely days to be Thanksgiving. Here’s the full roster, if I haven’t made any serious mistakes with it:

    November Will Be Thanksgiving
    22 58
    23 56
    24 58
    25 56
    26 58
    27 57
    28 57
    times in 400 years

    I don’t pretend there’s any significance to this. But it is another of those interesting quirks of probability. What you would say the probability is of a month starting on the 1st — equivalently, of having a Friday the 13th, or a Fourth Thursday of the Month that’s the 26th — depends on how much you know about the month. If you know only that it’s a month on the Gregorian calendar it’s one thing (specifically, it’s 688/4800, or about 0.14333). If you know only that it’s a November than it’s another (58/400, or 0.145). If you know only that it’s a month in 2016 then it’s another yet (1/12, or about 0.08333). If you know that it’s November 2016 then the probability is 0. Information does strange things to probability questions.

     
  • Joseph Nebus 6:00 pm on Thursday, 24 November, 2016 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , , Gregorian calendar, ,   

    A Thanksgiving Thought Fresh From The Shower 


    It’s well-known, at least in calendar-appreciation circles, that the 13th of a month is more likely to be Friday than any other day of the week. That’s on the Gregorian calendar, which has some funny rules about whether a century year — 1900, 2000, 2100 — will be a leap year. Three of them aren’t in every four centuries. The result is the pattern of dates on the calendar is locked into this 400-year cycle, instead of the 28-year cycle you might imagine. And this makes some days of the week more likely for some dates than they otherwise might be.

    This got me wondering. Does the 13th being slightly more likely imply that the United States Thanksgiving is more likely to be on the 26th of the month? The current rule is that Thanksgiving is the fourth Thursday of November. We’ll pretend that’s an unalterable fact of nature for the sake of having a problem we can solve. So if the 13th is more likely to be a Friday than any other day of the week, isn’t the 26th more likely to be a Thursday than any other day of the week?

    And that’s so, but I’m not quite certain yet. What’s got me pondering this in the shower is that the 13th is more likely a Friday for an arbitrary month. That is, if I think of a month and don’t tell you anything about what it is, all we can say is it chance of the 13th being a Friday is such-and-such. But if I pick a particular month — say, November 2017 — things are different. The chance the 13th of November, 2017 is a Friday is zero. So the chance the 26th of December, 2017 is a Thursday is zero. Our calendar system sets rules. We’ll pretend that’s an unalterable fact of nature for the sake of having a problem we can solve, too.

    So: does knowing that I am thinking of November, rather than a completely unknown month, change the probabilities? And I don’t know. My gut says “it’s plausible the dates of Novembers are different from the dates of arbitrary months”. I don’t know a way to argue this purely logically, though. It might have to be tested by going through 400 years of calendars and counting when the fourth Thursdays are. (The problem isn’t so tedious as that. There’s formulas computers are good at which can do this pretty well.)

    But I would like to know if it can be argued there’s a difference, or that there isn’t.

     
  • Joseph Nebus 8:46 pm on Thursday, 20 November, 2014 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: Antikythera Mechanism, , , Gregorian calendar, , Julian calendar, mechanisms, , , soup   

    Reading the Comics, November 20, 2014: Ancient Events Edition 


    I’ve got enough mathematics comics for another roundup, and this time, the subjects give me reason to dip into ancient days: one to the most famous, among mathematicians and astronomers anyway, of Greek shipwrecks, and another to some point in the midst of winter nearly seven thousand years ago.

    Eric the Circle (November 15) returns “Griffinetsabine” to the writer’s role and gives another “Shape Single’s Bar” scene. I’m amused by Eric appearing with his ex: x is practically the icon denoting “this is an algebraic expression”, while geometry … well, circles are good for denoting that, although I suspect that triangles or maybe parallelograms are the ways to denote “this is a geometric expression”. Maybe it’s the little symbol for a right angle.

    Jim Meddick’s Monty (November 17) presents Monty trying to work out just how many days there are to Christmas. This is a problem fraught with difficulties, starting with the obvious: does “today” count as a shopping day until Christmas? That is, if it were the 24th, would you say there are zero or one shopping days left? Also, is there even a difference between a “shopping day” and a “day” anymore now that nobody shops downtown so it’s only the stores nobody cares about that close on Sundays? Sort all that out and there’s the perpetual problem in working out intervals between dates on the Gregorian calendar, which is that you have to be daft to try working out intervals between dates on the Gregorian calendar. The only worse thing is trying to work out the intervals between Easters on it. My own habit for this kind of problem is to use the United States Navy’s Julian Date conversion page. The Julian date is a straight serial number, counting the number of days that have elapsed since noon Universal Time at what’s called the 1st of January, 4713 BCE, on the proleptic Julian calendar (“proleptic” because nobody around at the time was using, or even imagined, the calendar, but we can project back to what date that would have been), a year picked because it’s the start of several astronomical cycles, and it’s way before any specific recordable dates in human history, so any day you might have to particularly deal with has a positive number. Of course, to do this, we’re transforming the problem of “counting the number of days between two dates” to “counting the number of days between a date and January 1, 4713 BCE, twice”, but the advantage of that is, the United States Navy (and other people) have worked out how to do that and we can use their work.

    Bill Hind’s kids-sports comic Cleats (November 19, rerun) presents Michael offering basketball advice that verges into logic and set theory problems: making the ball not go to a place outside the net is equivalent to making the ball go inside the net (if we decide that the edge of the net counts as either inside or outside the net, at least), and depending on the problem we want to solve, it might be more convenient to think about putting the ball into the net, or not putting the ball outside the net. We see this, in logic, in a set of relations called De Morgan’s Laws (named for Augustus De Morgan, who put these ideas in modern mathematical form), which describe what kinds of descriptions — “something is outside both sets A and B at one” or “something is not inside set A or set B”, or so on — represent the same relationship between the thing and the sets.

    Tom Thaves’s Frank and Ernest (November 19) is set in the classic caveman era, with prehistoric Frank and Ernest and someone else discovering mathematics and working out whether a negative number times a negative number might be positive. It’s not obvious right away that they should, as you realize when you try teaching someone the multiplication rules including negative numbers, and it’s worth pointing out, a negative times a negative equals a positive because that’s the way we, the users of mathematics, have chosen to define negative numbers and multiplication. We could, in principle, have decided that a negative times a negative should give us a negative number. This would be a different “multiplication” (or a different “negative”) than we use, but as long as we had logically self-consistent rules we could do that. We don’t, because it turns out negative-times-negative-is-positive is convenient for problems we like to do. Mathematics may be universal — something following the same rules we do has to get the same results we do — but it’s also something of a construct, and the multiplication of negative numbers is a signal of that.

    Goofy sees the message 'buried treasure in back yard' in his alphabet soup; what are the odds of that?

    The Mickey Mouse comic rerun the 20th of November, 2014.

    Mickey Mouse (November 20, rerun) — I don’t know who wrote or draw this, but Walt Disney’s name was plastered onto it — sees messages appearing in alphabet soup. In one sense, such messages are inevitable: jumble and swirl letters around and eventually, surely, any message there are enough letters for will appear. This is very similar to the problem of infinite monkeys at typewriters, although with the special constraint that if, say, the bowl has only two letters “L”, it’s impossible to get the word “parallel”, unless one of the I’s is doing an impersonation. Here, Goofy has the message “buried treasure in back yard” appear in his soup; assuming those are all the letters in his soup then there’s something like 44,881,973,505,008,615,424 different arrangements of letters that could come up. There are several legitimate messages you could make out of that (“treasure buried in back yard”, “in back yard buried treasure”), not to mention shorter messages that don’t use all those letters (“run back”), but I think it’s safe to say the number of possible sentences that make sense are pretty few and it’s remarkable to get something like that. Maybe the cook was trying to tell Goofy something after all.

    Mark Anderson’s Andertoons (November 20) is a cute gag about the dangers of having too many axes on your plot.

    Gary Delainey and Gerry Rasmussen’s Betty (November 20) mentions the Antikythera Mechanism, one of the most famous analog computers out there, and that’s close enough to pure mathematics for me to feel comfortable including it here. The machine was found in April 1900, in ancient shipwreck, and at first seemed to be just a strange lump of bronze and wood. By 1902 the archeologist Valerios Stais noticed a gear in the mechanism, but since it was believed the wreck far, far predated any gear mechanisms, the machine languished in that strange obscurity that a thing which can’t be explained sometimes suffers. The mechanism appears to be designed to be an astronomical computer, tracking the positions of the Sun and the Moon — tracking the actual moon rather than an approximate mean lunar motion — the rising and etting of some constellations, solar eclipses, several astronomical cycles, and even the Olympic Games. It’s an astounding mechanism, it’s mysterious: who made it? How? Are there others? What happened to them? How was the mechanical engineering needed for this developed, and what other projects did the people who created this also do? Any answers to these questions, if we ever know them, seem sure to be at least as amazing as the questions are.

     
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