Browsing tag: teaching

  • Hallow Your Speech Or Hollow Your Home

    Rid your heart of all deceit.  Never give a hollow greeting of peace or turn away when someone needs your love.  Bind yourself to no oath lest it prove false, but speak the truth with heart and tongue.  (Rule of St. Benedict 4. 24-28)

    Do not lie to your children.

    What about Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy?

    When my first child asked me if Santa Claus was real, I told her quite frankly, “No.” She didn’t believe me. She argued with me. On Christmas morning she said, “See, Mommy! Look at all these presents. Where do you think these presents came from, if Santa isn’t real?”

    With the second child, I explained patiently that Santa is based on a real person, Saint Nicholas, who lived a long time ago and started the tradition of giving presents to poor children at Christmas. Then I got a phone call from my mother: “Do you realize that Anthony is going around telling people that Santa Claus is dead?”

    With the third child, I decided to let my husband handle this issue. He shamelessly played along with the whole charade. Not only Santa but the Tooth Fairy was real. He snuck presents under the tree and put excessive amounts of money under her pillow, inflating the value of teeth and provoking competition.

    With the fourth child, I avoided the whole problem. I told her the Tooth Fairy forgot about her tooth, but she might try selling it to her dad instead. I told her to ask her siblings about Santa.

    It seems to me that if children can’t trust you to tell the truth about something as inane as the Tooth Fairy, how can they trust you on more important topics? However, I realize that many people feel very strongly that a happy childhood includes belief in Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, and other specialized proxies.

    It’s one thing to let Santa live on in everyone’s imagination. It’s another thing to lie to your children in order to manipulate them into doing something quickly and without protest. Ten years later, the little-white-lie parents are the ones complaining about how their teenagers (shock, horror) deceive and manipulate them. How nasty those teenagers are, and how sweet they were, back in the days when they still believed everything we told them….

    The difference between the tall-tale-teller and the deceitful-manipulator is that the tale-teller wants the children to grow up and learn to distinguish reality from fiction. Nothing tickles a tale-teller so much as the efforts of a knee-high pipsqueak to put one over on him. And sometimes the pipsqueak wins this game, to everyone’s delight. It’s a game that develops the wits just like pitching softballs in the back yard develops athletic skills. It’s quite different from the morbid nostalgia of adults who hate to see the children maturing, for murky reasons of their own.

    But what really harms children is that worst form of deceit, “the hollow greeting of peace.” This corresponds to the pretense of love on the part of a parent who is essentially selfish. The friendly father who abandons his family is hollow. The effusive mother who neglects her children is hollow.

    There’s no point in glancing around to see if other people are affected. It’s in the nature of the thing to be invisible from the outside. Right now everyone looks fine. It’s all good! But when the relationships collapse, and the hollow family splays out into the open, you get a sickening glimpse inside.

    What is the opposite of hollow? The opposite of hollow is to be truly, through and through, what you appear to be on the outside. It means actually taking care of your children. That job includes teaching them to distinguish truth from falsehood, in whatever way you do best. You aim for their ultimate good, not your immediate convenience. It’s possible that no one around you will acknowledge that you’re doing anything worthwhile at all. But in the long run, integrity stands.

     

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  • Discipline To Win

    In his teaching, the abbot should always observe the Apostle’s recommendation, in which he says: Use argument, appeal, reproof 2 Timothy 4:2. This means that he must vary with circumstances, threatening and coaxing by turns, stern as a taskmaster, devoted and tender as only a father can be. (Rule of St. Benedict 2.23-24)

    The purpose of discipline is to train children in good behavior, directing them along the right path.

    Training and language acquisition go hand in hand. Really you do want your children to learn how to argue on their own behalf. So engage the arguing child with a counter-argument, even as you enforce discipline. Surely you have a reason for why you’re doing what you’re doing? Explain it. Sometimes your motivations are beyond logic: verbalize your emotions too. Announce to your children that you’re about to become very, very angry. It does make a difference when you give them verbal warnings, rather than assuming that they can read your mind. And when you reprove the child for an error, spell out how it was wrong.

    There are parents who tolerate no divergence from their own opinions, decisions and emotions. Nor do they consider that they owe any explanation for the punishments they inflict. So, their children may not even understand what they did wrong, or what they should do next time instead. These parents may obtain impressive results in the short run, but they hinder the development of the initiative their children will need in order to function as adults. When they repress honest dissent, they create the conditions for deceit to flourish. As in larger scale dictatorships, the only options are subservience, rebellion or exile.

    At the other end of the spectrum are the parents who abdicate authority. They discuss options even with young children as though they were peers, without enforcing any discipline. They appeal to a child’s good nature without taking action to thwart the child’s bad impulses. Then they reproach the child for bad behavior without imposing consequences. It’s these nice parents who then complain about how disappointing their teenagers are, when they turn out not to have learned any sense of responsibility, compassion or moral obligation.

    Wise parents vary the approach with the circumstances. You threaten sparingly, because at the end of the day when you’re tired, you’d rather relax than inflict punishments–but you will follow through. You coax cautiously, because you know that children can turn the tables on you and transform bribery into blackmail. You’re stern on principles, but you’re tender on feelings. You’re usually clever, but if you make a mistake, you admit it.

    You teach right from wrong not just in theory, but in a practical way. If a young child steals something from a store, you take her back and require her to replace the object where she found it. When she took it, she didn’t have any concept of stealing: now she does. By making her put it back, you enforce the lesson that the thing that does not belong to her must stay where it is. For some children, this simple, mild intervention is all they’ll ever need. Once she realizes it’s wrong, she’ll never do it again.

    Children misbehave because of any number of factors. The challenge for parents is to observe and deduce what the causes may be, and to address those causes first. A hungry child gets fed. An exhausted child gets bedtime. Injuries both visible and invisible get appropriate treatment. Complicated teenage tangles get hours of conversation. Mistakes get the benefit of the doubt. Extenuating circumstances get full consideration.

    When a child is clearly obedient, docile and patient, you extend a gentle appeal. There’s no excuse for hurting the feelings of a well-meaning child who is making every effort to comply with expectations but through weakness has made a mistake.

    Realize that you too experience all sorts of variables that influence your behavior. Maybe you need to let go of something else you’re expending energy on, in order to have the resources you need to discipline your children constructively. Don’t be the father who didn’t bother. Don’t be the mother who always had something else to do. Engage with your children. Come alongside to help. When you slow down to walk side by side with them and focus at their level, you’ll find that you do have the experience you need to sort things out.

     

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  • The Call: Awake!

    Let us get up then, at long last, for the Scriptures rouse us when they say: “It is high time for us to arise from sleep” Romans 13:11 (Rule of St. Benedict, Prologue.8)

    This “sleep” is the spiritual stupor of ordinary people who imagine that the front line is somewhere else. They think that they themselves have no responsibility for the outcome of the battle. They presume that they will suffer no consequences for their complacent inaction.

    I myself had an experience of a call involving Scripture and a stirring up from physical sleep, on a particular occasion.  At about 2 a.m., the morning of June 19, 2012, I woke up with the urgent sense that I should post verses of Scripture online.  So I thought, “I’ll do it tomorrow.”

    But the urgency increased.  I felt that I must check what the readings for the day were–not in the Upper Room guide to prayer that I’d been using for twenty-two years, but in the Catholic Missal, which I had downloaded on my phone at some point but had never even opened before.  I fumbled with my phone in the middle of the night and read the readings: 1 Kings 21: 17-29 (the Lord sends Elijah to confront Ahab). Then there was Psalm 51 (“…in the greatness of your compassion wipe out my offense….). The Gospel was Matthew 5: 43-48 (“love your enemies“).  Then I checked the daily Bible verse and saw Acts 17:30-31:

    God has overlooked the times of ignorance, but now he demands that all people everywhere repent, because he has established a day on which he will judge the world with justice through a man he has appointed, and he has provided confirmation for all by raising him from the dead.

    There was a “share” feature on the app to connect to Facebook.  It was urgent that I must do so immediately.  I signed in, and I posted the verse.

    This experience had never happened to me before.  It hasn’t happened again since.  Afterwards, trying to come to terms with it, I explained to God that this was the wrong message to the wrong person at the wrong time.

    First of all, these days God does not “demand” anything.  God is lucky if anyone condescends to acknowledge that he might exist.  Second, if God wants to get a message out to all people everywhere, my Facebook page is not the place to do it.  Third, people these days don’t repent.  A few religious people make a practice of repenting routinely, but the people who do most of the sinning aren’t interested in repentance at all.  There must have been some mistake.  The angel tapped the wrong person on the shoulder.  I don’t have the credentials, the platform, the authority, or the influence.

    But St. Benedict actually gives some insight into the call of God.  Seeking his workman in a multitude of people, the Lord calls out to him and lifts his voice again: “Is there anyone here who yearns for life and desires to see good days?” Psalm 34:12 (Rule of St. Benedict, Prologue.14-15)

    There’s a promise here, and it’s not just pie in the sky bye ‘n bye.  The promise of God for those who will heed him is a good life beginning here and now.

    With this conclusion, the Lord waits for us daily to translate into action, as we should, his holy teachings.  Therefore our life span has been lengthened by way of a truce, that we may amend our misdeeds.  As the Apostle says, “Do you not know that the patience of God is leading you to repent?” Romans 2:4 (RB Prologue.35-37)

    The call to each of us is to translate into action daily the teachings that we believe to be true.  How do we live them out in ordinary life within a culture that has explicitly rejected them and that organizes itself along opposing principles?

    Therefore we intend to establish a school for the Lord’s service.  In drawing up its regulations, we hope to set down nothing harsh, nothing burdensome.  The good of all concerned, however, may prompt us to a little strictness in order to amend faults and to safeguard love.  Do not be daunted immediately by fear and run away from the road that leads to salvation.  It is bound to be narrow at the outset. (RB Prologue.45-48)

    Every Christian home is such a school.  If the home is spiritually chaotic, then the child may emerge into adulthood unfit for any good purpose.  Discipline costs effort every day.  But the rejection of discipline costs far more. Everyone pays the price in illness, despair, loneliness and worse.  Rather than raging at evil in others elsewhere, let us combat it where we are.  The battle for good against evil will be won or lost in our own homes.

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  • The Challenge

    This message of mine is for you, then, if you are ready to give up your own will, once and for all, and armed with the strong and noble weapons of obedience to do battle for the true King, Christ the Lord. (RB Prologue.3)

    St. Benedict is of course not the first to describe the Christian life as a spiritual battle: St. Paul used that figure of speech in his letters.  On the face of it, however, it seems a bit histrionic to associate the domestic life with anything as dramatic as “battle.”  Surely the metaphor is overblown.

    But then you hear of another teenager who has committed suicide; of another husband who has abandoned his family; of another wife who has had an affair.  You see people with all sorts of destructive habits hurting themselves and their children.  The national abortion statistics come in for the year.  Then it’s your own friends whose marriages rot out.  Their cute kids grow up and do shocking things in the janitor’s closet in high school.  You watch a four year-old fall apart emotionally because she realizes that her father just doesn’t care.  You watch a seven year-old learn to be stoic.  A battle?  It’s a rout; a massacre; a spiritual slaughter.  And if you abandon your post, not only you but your children will join the list of casualties.

    So there is a war raging.  Whether or not you want to fight, it will involve you.  But how can obedience be a weapon?  Isn’t that a hopelessly unfashionable idea?  In Discipleship, the WWII-era Lutheran pastor, Dietrich Bonhoeffer makes the point that obedience to the commands of God is inseparable from faith in God. “You complain that you cannot believe?  No one should be surprised that they cannot come to believe so long as, in deliberate disobedience, they flee or reject some aspect of Jesus’ commandment.”

    Following the epistle of St. James, Bonhoeffer was explaining to a modern readership how false it is to think that an experience of faith must precede an act of obedience.  On the contrary, you must take action to obey in order to experience faith.  Bonhoeffer stepped away from the trend of Germanic philosophy since Kant and rejected the primacy of the thing in the mind over the thing in action.  He stood against Nazi Germany and lost his life as a result.  His side–our side–won that war, but insidious theories of self-invention spread through the post-war culture.

    These days a call to obedience sounds like an insult, to many people.  In the postmodern context, we are self-referential by default.  We find ourselves sequestered inside labile minds, no longer even able to rely on the modern concept of the coherent individual, who at least knew who he was and what he wanted.  More than in previous ages we need to obey the commands of God so as not to be constantly tossed about by our own confused thoughts and erratic feelings.

    But once we’ve obeyed the revealed commands of God—then what?  There’s all the rest of mundane life to live.  Must each individual at every moment debate every choice that needs to be made?  In a chaotic and arbitrary culture, willfully given over to the cult of randomness, it would be less exhausting to have some templates handy, some aids for the organization of behavior. A rational person faces relentless buffeting by the sheer nihilism of the surrounding environment.  A Domestic Rule would be helpful, to provide some guidelines for self-regulation.

     

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  • The Motivation

    Listen carefully, my son, to the master’s instructions, and attend to them with the ear of your heart. This is advice from a father who loves you; welcome it, and faithfully put it into practice. (Rule of St. Benedict, Prologue.1)

    When I first thought of writing a domestic rule, the idea was completely sarcastic. In the culture that surrounds me, there are no two things so disdained as domesticity and regulation. But it irked me that out of twenty centuries of Church history, nobody had ever written a rule for married people raising children. It irked me so much that gradually I came to entertain more seriously the idea of writing one myself.  The question is not what the Christian life should look like in its mature state. There are innumerable resources to tell us that. The question is how to raise infants from formless chaos to that mature state, and how to survive the process.

    I feel sure that the things I’ve learned as an ordinary Christian wife and mother have been learned before by many women who were not able to record their experiences in writing.  For many centuries, only a tiny fraction of the population could read, much less write. Writing materials were too expensive to waste on merely personal reflections. So, written documents tended not to contain mundane details.  Even when education and materials became more widely available, how many mothers had the leisure to write anything more than a personal letter to a specific child at a specific moment? They were too tired all the time, and nobody ever asked.

    Out of all the famous leaders of any denomination, only John Wesley, to my knowledge ever asked his mother, Susanna Wesley, to write down her thoughts on raising children.  The only way to account for such a gaping hole in Christian teaching is to acknowledge that the Church for most of its existence has taken for granted that ordinary people would perform the tasks of child-rearing as a matter of course. Nobody ever wrote a domestic rule because nobody ever imagined a society without families.

    Then the twentieth century came along and gave the world atheist experiments in total annihilation of the family. Western countries resisted totalitarian ideologies only to yield to decomposing forces that have dissolved all the primary bonds. Mothers kill their children and call it freedom. Brothers and sisters train to compete against each other, not to love each other. The bond between father and son has become a fight for dominance.

    These existential topics were on my mind, but I hesitated to take on the extra work involved in doing this project.  I started putting pen to paper only after hearing of four healthy people who suddenly died, within a week or so of each other. There was a family friend who went in for surgery and died on the operating table. A business contact dropped dead of a heart attack while working out in the gym. A seventeen year-old shot himself “accidentally.” A woman bled to death giving birth to her fourth baby. It occurred to me that I might not have much time left myself. Before I go, I want to record some parenting advice for my own children as they raise families.

    What follows is not a polemical essay but a personal testimony.  What I myself have learned in the course of struggling to live an ordinary Christian life as that deplorable relic, a housewife, I now proclaim to you. I write so that you may live joyful lives. And I hope that I can spare you many heartaches and miseries by carefully and honestly parsing out the elemental details that are so often taken for granted.  Anything objectionable in what follows I have carefully considered and have decided to include anyway, as an alternative to something worse that I fear more.

    A rule is not a set of laws to obey. A rule is a pattern, a multi-faceted template, to which one can turn when it’s not clear what to do next. The goal is not to be domestic nor to be regulated, but to live a Christian life—even in domesticity. How does one raise children in happy homes that everyone is not always trying to escape from? As my own template I’m taking the Rule of Saint Benedict. Of all the choices I’ve made, this is one of the few that seemed, quite simply, obvious.

     

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