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Recently
I was scheduled to give the closing address at a conference
on father involvement. I had thought and planned and prayed
about what to include in my remarks. The Lord sent me an
answer in the form of a group of men.
When
the time came I asked several participants in the audience
to share the most important idea they had learned at the
conference. Then I invited six men from the Salt River
Pima-Maricopa Indian Community near Scottsdale, Arizona to stand and come to
the front of the room. These six men had attended the conference
and put on seminars regarding the fatherhood program they
are involved in with their community. They were handsome
men. They were proud men. I asked the president of their
organization’s chapter to come forward and share the most
important idea they wished to communicate. He stepped forward
and said it in three words.
Fatherhood
is Sacred.
Fatherhood
is Sacred.
Why Fatherhood is Sacred
The
Salt River Pima-Maricopa Indian Community organized the
first chapter in the nation of the Native American Fatherhood
and Families Association. In the past three years, hundreds
of men have worked with this program and begun to transform
their own lives and the lives of their families and communities.
This work was begun by the humble efforts of Albert Pooley,
a man of Navajo and Hopi parentage, and who labors with
love to reach men who need to re-connect with their children.
He is the executive director of the Native American Fatherhood
and Families Association.
The
men in this program have created a T-shirt with the name
of their chapter on the front with a beautiful Native American
design and on the back their simple statement of belief:
Fatherhood is Sacred. Al Pooley
told me that when he sent the men in his program to design
the shirt, he expected the statement to be in small lettering
on the front of the shirt. Instead, it came back in large,
bold letters across the back of the shirt. He smiled at
this memory and said these men had taken this message to
heart, and that for them, the reality that fatherhood is
sacred has become a moving force in their lives.
The
six men who came to represent this belief at a national
conference were men with difficult lives. Some of them
have spent time in jail. Some of them have sold drugs or
used alcohol. Some of them have been divorced or fathered
children out of wedlock. To see them was to see men who
have reclaimed their lives and their hopes and their honor
in the effort to be good and caring fathers, men who bring
sacredness and joy into the lives of their children. No
one had ever told them that to be a father is a sacred work.
No one had ever told them that they are precious because
the work of being a father is precious. No one had ever
told them that they are sacred because they are working
as co-creators with the Creator in the lives of their children.
To understand fatherhood as sacred has begun to help them
learn who they truly are and who they might become.
Fatherhood
is sacred because it is a work of sacredness.
Men as Holy Figures in the Lives of Their Children
Not
too many weeks ago I determined to improve my reading habits
and picked up a book I had known and loved as a young man.
The book was My Name is Asher Lev by the Jewish author
Chaim Potok.
It is the story of a father and a son and their relationship.
It is the story of how young Asher Lev, an Orthodox Jew,
learns to relate to the power of a father in his life and
in his consciousness. His father tells him many tales of
his own father and their ancestors, as well as stories about
the father of their religious community, the Rebbe, who is recognized as a “tzaddik”
among his people. A “tzaddik”
is, in the Jewish tradition, a person of holiness or righteousness
in the life of the family and community, a bearer of holy
teachings and an example of moral and spiritual power.
As I read this book and then later reflected on the message
that fatherhood is sacred, I realized in a way I had not
done before that men are meant to be holy figures in the
lives of their children.
Abraham
Heschel, the great Jewish thinker
and philosopher, identified the father as a powerful figure
in the family circle with a moral responsibility to teach
and care for his children. He wrote:
“We,
the adults, have delegated our moral responsibility to the
schools, the social agencies, or the community funds. .
. . Significantly, the Biblical injunction does not say
that we are to appoint a teacher to train our children.
The Biblical injunction is that the parent be the teacher
. . . The teacher is but a representative of the father,
according to Jewish tradition. Thou shalt teach them diligently, not vicariously.” (The Wisdom
of Heschel, 1975, p. 91)
The
concept of fathers as holy figures in the lives of their
families and communities goes back to our earliest understanding
of fathers. Adam, for example, was given the power by God
to name the creatures that came forth upon the earth. To
name is to give identity and purpose. Abraham 5:20 recounts
how God “formed every beast of the field, and every fowl
of the air, and brought them unto Adam to see what he would
call them; and whatsoever Adam called every living creature,
that should be the name thereof.” The privilege of naming
is to hold the power of identity. It is a sacred power.
When
a father or father figure stands before a Latter-day Saint
congregation, takes an infant child in his arms, and pronounces
upon that child a name and a blessing, it is a dramatic
symbol of this reality. Fathers are meant to be holy figures
in the lives of their children. It is a tragic circumstance
when a father ignores or abuses this responsibility and
instead is hurtful or uncaring toward his children. Fathers
must learn that to exercise power in the lives of their
children does not mean to control them, but rather to bless
them.
When
the great patriarch Jacob departed from mortality, he called
his children about him and said, “Gather yourselves together,
and hear, ye sons of Jacob; and hearken unto Israel your father” (Genesis 49:2). He bestowed counsel and
blessings upon each of his children. He exercised a holy
influence upon his children as he blessed them and uplifted
them. In him was the power to bless generations.
The Exercise of Power in the Lives of Children
Many
years ago I did a study of the word “power.” It was a word
that bothered me. I did not like the word. I preferred
the term “strength” to identify the influence of fathers
in family life. That was before I had children.
When
my first child was born, she was transported within minutes
to the newborn ICU for tests and intense efforts to save
her life. Her life was at risk. I came to her side, helpless
and scared, and unsure whether she would live beyond a few
minutes or hours. My wife was in recovery and could not
be at her baby’s side. I longed to hold my child and take
her away from the pain and confusion that was accompanying
her entry into the world of mortality. I needed more than
strength. The doctors needed more than knowledge. For
this child to live, I soon realized that I needed something
that I alone did not possess—I needed power. In companionship
with the Lord and my pleadings unto Him, and the support
of my father and father-in-law, she received a blessing
that brought into her life at that moment in time the power
needed to sustain and even heal her life.
This
experience changed my life in several ways as a father.
First, it taught me that there would be many times in my
life where I as a father would need power to help my children.
Second, it taught me that I would need a certain kind of
power to help my children. It is not simply power that
a father truly needs, or the ability to influence and direct
a child’s life and thoughts and feelings. It is the power
to bless. It is what might be called “power in righteousness.”
Men do not bless by the mere exercise of power. They bless
only by the exercise of power in righteousness.
To
be a holy figure in the life of a child, in the life of
a family, requires an association with the powers that exist
beyond our own mortal abilities, or the powers of heaven.
Power in righteousness comes only as we associate ourselves
through prayer and sacred living with the powers of heaven.
The Doctrine and Covenants teaches clearly that
“the powers of heaven cannot be controlled not handled only
upon the principles of righteousness” (D&C 121:36).
A mere man, who becomes a father, must become a tzaddik.
A righteous man. A man who realizes
and accepts that fatherhood is sacred.
I
recently purchased a beautiful sculpture of a man and a
child. The man’s shoulders are broad and sweeping and his
size dwarfs the child. He is reaching down in loving tenderness
and connects his size and power with the upreached
arms and hope of his child. Upon seeing this sculpture,
I realized with great awareness that it represented a significant
truth:
Men
have great power in the lives of their children.
Men
have great power, for good or ill, in the lives of their
children. A man can be a blessing to his children, his
family, his people. A man can
be a burden to his children, his family, his
people.
Significantly,
for men who have become burdens by their careless choices,
unrighteous acts, or deliberate mistakes, one of the “powers
of heaven” that can work in their behalf is the power for
repentance, change, and forgiveness. I have seen this power
at work in the lives of men who have needed such change.
It is a holy power. It is a power associated with the Lord
Jesus Christ. It is His power.
Practices of Sacred Fathering
Sacred
fathering recognizes the sacredness of being a father and
accepts it with purpose. What might this mean? It means
that a father recognizes that he can be a blessing or a
burden to his children and the generations of his family
yet unborn. A father can bring blessing or pain. I’d like
to briefly suggest seven areas in which a father’s love
and righteousness can impact the lives of his children in
a sacred manner.
Beauty or Ugliness
I’ve
always liked the phrase in Stephen Covey’s book, The
Seven Habits of Highly Effective Families,
that refers to the intent to create a
“beautiful family culture.” This, to me, does not refer
to nice suits and trimmed hair and pretty dresses in a nice
house. Of course, it is much deeper than that. It is the
inner beauty of family life.
Is
there order and peace? Is there appreciation and recognition?
Is there love and tenderness? Is there laughter and learning?
Fathers
have a great capacity, because of their power, to sow either
beauty or ugliness in the lives of their children and family
members. How do you sow beauty? Perhaps you begin by recognizing
that to be the father and mother of a child is a beautiful
thing.
I
occasionally teach a class for couples who are divorcing.
One night the recriminations voiced against former spouses
by class participants were so vehement and bitter that the
class simply stopped. The tension was palpable and painful.
I finally asked quietly whether any single person in the
room could raise a hand and say one thing in sincerity that
was good about a former spouse. Not one person raised a
hand. The silence continued. I then asked, “How many of
you believe that your children are beautiful? Please raise
your hands.” All hands raised.
I then asked if any of them had produced that beautiful
child on their own with no marital partner. None of them
raised a hand. I said, “You and your former spouses co-created
the most beautiful part of your lives—a beautiful child.
That beautiful child is part of your lives. And yet, you
choose to sit here and sow only the seeds of hurt and bitterness
and ugliness in the lives of your children. Can you not
at least acknowledge the presence of beauty in your life,
a child, because of that person and cease to create ugliness
where beauty exists?”
The
discussion that ensued was very interesting. A child is
beautiful. But you cultivate beauty in the life of a child
only as you act with care and love toward the mother or
father of your child. This is part of sacred fathering.
To treat the mother of your child with
honor and respect. You may sow beauty or ugliness.
Blessing or Pain
There
is a fine book out by a woman psychiatrist, Rachel Naomi
Remen, and the book is called
My Grandfather’s Blessings. I love the title. It
captures the spirit of this essay. How do fathers, grandfathers,
and other father figures bless our lives?
Men
have great power to bring blessings or inflict pain upon
the lives of their children and family members. I recall
the funeral for a beloved choir leader of mine from high
school. At the funeral, an adult child of his reminisced
about seeing her father’s hands in various positions throughout
her life, poised to work, to pray, and to bless. That image
of her father’s hands, working at night to repair watches
or raised in careful anticipation of a musical number before
a choir, has always stayed with me. The most lasting image
was of her father’s hands, settled in blessing upon a child’s
cheek or giving a priesthood blessing, and their lasting
impact for good.
Hands
may bless. Hands may minister pain and hurt.
Joy or Sorrow
Joy
and sorrow are both part of the mortal experience. But
the degree of joy or sorrow in family life may be related
to the manner in which fathers act in caring and compassion.
Fathers
may bring sorrow by their absence and joy by their presence.
I have talked with many little children who seldom see their
fathers. This may be due to divorce. Or abuse. Or neglect.
Or simply travel and “other” priorities.
God sees the tears of children. He counts those tears.
Fathers
should seek not only to be present in the lives of their
children, but to live in a way that their presence is a
joyful presence to their children and spouses.
I
watched a child of mine, a son,
participate last year in a soccer game. I arrived a few
minutes late to the game and he was not aware of my presence
at first. I made my way to the sidelines and watched him
from afar, my heart full of hope and encouragement for him,
as he had struggled at times on his team and with the game.
Suddenly, toward the end of the game, he found himself near
the goal and in scoring position. He hesitated and then
took the ball, kicked it toward the goal, and then reacted
with wonder when it bounced into the back of the net. Joy
lit his face. And then he looked around. He looked to
see if anyone was there to share this moment of triumph.
And he saw me. And I saw him. He waved and jumped up and
down with his teammates, and I cheered, and I will admit
shed a quiet tear on the sideline by myself.
It
was a moment that perhaps he will forget. I will never
forget it. Joy is most joyful when it is shared, especially
between a father and a child.
Gentleness or Anger
Fathers
are kind of like bears. They can be gentle with their own
but they can also get mean and angry at times. Gentleness
versus anger. How much does it matter?
As
I noted earlier, fathers have power in the lives of their
children. When fathers give themselves over to anger and
they yell, rage, curse, or act
with a controlling and cold purpose toward a spouse or children,
for children it becomes a terrifying thing. Power unleashed
in anger is frightening to a child.
Gentleness,
by contrast, soothes and comforts and stills the feelings
of a child who is sick, upset, or feeling hurt. Fathers
have great power when they choose gentleness rather than
anger.
On
the first day I had my driver’s license, I managed to run
into the side of a woman’s car and do about $2,500 worth
of damage. In front of my own house. I went to get my father and he came
out and helped to resolve the situation. Then we went inside.
My father sat me down and we looked at each other. Then
he said, with gentleness, “Son, I want you to understand
one thing. A car is like a gun. If you use it incorrectly,
you can hurt someone or even kill someone. You have to
be more careful. Do you understand?”
I
understood. I had some consequences to live with. I was
so nervous to drive again that I walked to school for six
months. I learned something about being a good driver.
But I learned something even far greater. I learned something
about the power of a father in gentleness. How I thank
my father that he chose gentleness that day and not anger.
He taught me by his example about exercising power, in gentleness,
in the life of a child.
Guidance or Wandering
Fathers
have enormous capacity to direct their children in the paths
of life. Without a father’s guidance, children are much
more likely to wander into paths that are unsafe or uncertain
as they travel through life.
When
you train a horse, especially a young horse, you spend a
lot of time training it by leading it. You must get
out in front of it and show it by guidance and direction
which way to go and how to act. If a young horse becomes
rowdy or upset, it is not uncommon to put it with an older,
more mature horse that can teach it good habits and lead
it in the right direction. However, if a young horse
gets mixed in with older, rowdy horses it quickly learns
bad habits and these can be very difficult to break.
Fathers
play the powerful role model in the lives of their children
that older, responsible horses play in the training of a
younger horse. They provide guidance and help in the development
of good habits. They keep children away from unhealthy
influences and provide a protective buffer between children
and the world. They provide guidance rather than letting
children wander, and in doing so, they may be a great blessing
to children.
Integrity or False Hopes
Children
are seekers of truth. Children hold parents to the truth
if parents have made a promise. Fathers must be careful
that they not break promises to children. The trust of
a child is a sacred thing.
I
have noticed that my children “call me on it” when I make
a commitment to them and then fail to keep it. They are
very attentive to my integrity towards them. They let me
know with frowns and whines and complaints that I am not
doing my job when I fail to keep a commitment I have made,
whether it be going out for ice
cream or taking them with me on an errand.
As
a father, I have learned the power of keeping a promise
to a child. When promises are not kept, a child’s hopes
are dashed and disappointed.
It
is too easy, as a father, to break a promise to a child.
Why? Because fathers have greater power
in the relationship and it is much more difficult for the
child to “hold a father accountable” for the broken promise.
Children cannot revoke your allowance. Children cannot
suspend your driving privileges. What is the consequence
then of a broken promise to a child? Mistrust. Lack of confidence. Disappointment. Even despair.
I
recently made a promise to one of my sons. I kept the promise.
Later that evening he came to me, put his arms around my
neck and whispered, “You’re the best dad in the world.”
I didn’t even have to pay him to say that. It signaled
to me the power of integrity in keeping promises to children
and the cost of false hopes for a child when promise are
unfulfilled.
Support or Neglect
For
me, one of the most sacred aspects of the sacred work of
fathering is the support that a father provides to the mother
of his children. The manner in which men support women
in their own demanding and sacred work of motherhood is
one of the most significant aspects of a father’s role and
calling.
Several
years ago, a man died whom I loved very much. At his passing,
his wife was alone with him. It was a difficult time with
very sensitive circumstances. One person was there to support
her in that hour of need and pain, her son-in-law, and he
provided comfort, support, and practical help in her moments
of difficulty. I have heard her remark many times how grateful
she is for the quiet and practical support that was given
to her by this son-in-law at perhaps the most painful moment
of her life. His support made all the difference.
No
one else saw this support of a man for a woman in need.
There were no cheering bands. There were no media flash
bulbs popping. There was only a man, a father himself,
who knew that to support a woman, a mother, is to do a sacred
work.
To
abandon that support for women, for mothers, in their particular
stewardship of life as mothers, is to leave out much of
what it means to do the sacred work of fathering. To neglect
rather than to support is to deny what it means to truly
be a father.
Fatherhood is Sacred
To
father is a child is more than a biological act. To father
a child is more than a social role to fulfill. To father
a child is sacred work.
To
truly father a child is to nurture the soul of a child.
To truly father a child is to honor and respect womanhood
and motherhood.
Fatherhood
is sacred. I am grateful for this reminder from a group
of men from a small Indian reservation in Arizona.
(You
can share any comments or feedback with Sean Brotherson
at brotherson@meridianmagazine.com. I look forward to hearing from you! If you would like to
know more about the Native American Fatherhood and Families
Association, would be interested in supporting their work,
or learning more about anything I have mentioned in this
article, please feel free to contact me.)
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