Friday, February 15, 2013

Re-imaging Discipline, Parenting as Disciples


Children Kids Behaviour TeachingFrom a talk given for a Family Day of the Episcopal Diocese of Milwaukee, 2.16.12 at St. Dunstan's Episcopal Church. On re-imagining discipline as teaching.

We’re going to talk for a few minutes about how we think about and go about the disciplining of our children. As a way of beginning, I want to first share two images from Scripture that speak to my experience of discipline with my own children, Jude and Annie, who are 1 and 3, respectively.

The first image comes from Paul’s letter to the Romans: Paul says, “I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate.” I’m not sure how much new information you’ll hear today – though I hope you hear some. But you and I know that effective discipline is only half (or less) about the information in your head, right? It’s about being the person I long to be for my child in a given moment after 3 hours’ sleep, eighteen diapers, eighty-five interrupted sentences, thirty-two repetitions of Goodbye Moon, two snacks, three meals, and a difficult day at work. And some of you, like my wife, do all this without the benefit of an office job to provide a periodic diversion or change of scenery.

“I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate.” This verse reminds me that I have lots of room to grow, I will inevitably find myself asking forgiveness of those I love, and also that I must be gracious with myself. As we’ll talk about later, being a parent means believing God’s grace for you always. (You can’t be counting the therapy hours you’re adding to your kids’ adulthood.) Believe God’s grace for you always.

The second image comes from an older friend who reminded me that families are boot camps for holiness. I asked my friend to explain. “Well, Jonathan,” he said, “Jesus tells us to love our enemies. Marriage is practice in loving one’s enemy.” And if marriage is practice in loving your enemy, how much more is parenthood.

Now, I love my family with all that I am. My happiest moments each day come first thing in the morning when they come down the stairs and then, at the end, when I come home from work… So I don’t want to sound cynical. But, as a parent, if you’re not preparing to love your enemies…you’re gonna lose. And more than that, you will miss the difficult, gritty, hard as hell holiness God would teach you through these moments as you seek and serve Christ in all persons. And don’t tell me it’s bad to think of my kid as an enemy. Isn’t it as an enemy that God first loved us? “While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” Parenting is the privilege of learning, with God’s help, to love like that. Anyone can love their children while they’re sleeping; it’s okay to have enemies, but love them.

For what it’s worth…

So. Discipline. The Living Compass curriculum highlights the connection between the words discipline and disciple. A disciple is a student; someone who is taught by another. To discipline means to teach a student. So Living Compass is suggesting teaching as the normative verb for our understanding as parents of what it is to discipline. And I bet you can think of some of the verbs that “teaching” is meant to replace – other verbs by which parents in other times and places have understood the task of disciplining. Go for it…

Some that I thought of: correcting, punishing, beating (in the guise of teaching natural consequences for one’s actions), shaming, neglecting, giving up on, and, finally, my personal temptation, selling to the monkey farm.

So we’re talking about discipline as teaching. This is huge. If the question of disciplining is one of teaching, the question for us parents is, “How do children learn?” You know this, too. How do children learn? By watching you. Through imitation. By your example.

This is why you teach as much when you ask your daughter’s forgiveness for the way you acted earlier as you do when you tell your daughter to apologize for the way she acted earlier. This is obvious, probably review, but it was a revelation when I heard it for the first time after becoming a parent because I realized that the best way to shape my children in the life of faith was by continuing to live out my own.   

As a parent, I have sometimes been tempted to think of my life as the thing that gets put on pause, goes to the backburner, in order to make room for my children’s development.  As parents, we are used to accommodating and sacrificing. But in baptism, God makes claims on every part of my life and so even my disciplining - or teaching my children - is of one piece with my being disciplined, discipled – my learning as a child of God. We are learning as we teach. My development is essential to the development of my children. Equally, my self-care is essential to the care of my children.

A commitment to learning and self-care requires time, conversation, and the determination to get away from time to time – to gain perspective – to refuel and come back with energy. For many of us this time away feels like a luxury, but most of us are not so busy that a few minutes siphoned off of facebook or pinterest would not reward us with added clarity and a sharpened sense of purpose in our lives as parents and disciples of Jesus.

So if you have children and these children, by their nature, imitate you, what do you want your life to teach? What is life ultimately about? Teaching begins with a clear understanding of your teaching points and how you want to convey them. The more in touch you are with these points in your own life, the more wisdom and vulnerability you have with which to teach these points to your children. So, for example, when my kids are distraught, I sing hymns, even though other songs could be just as soothing, because I want to embody my conviction that you and I are made to sing the praises of God. By my understanding, praise is what life is about.

I want to invite you to take a moment and at your table think of – share if you want – a daily practice you model for and teach your children and the life value to which you connect it.

Recognizing teachable moments – moments in which we can help our children learn from their experiences – is huge as well. Letting your children do the learning, but having ready questions to open up the experience for learning, locate you as a friendly observer to your children’s growth as they build self-confidence and locate a sense of responsibility within themselves. “I wonder” questions are great for this. “I wonder how you will respond to…” “I wonder how that made you feel…” “I wonder what you think of when…”

Of course, most of my “I wonder” moments would sound something like, “I wonder why you bit your sister for the forty-third time today?” “ I wonder why you flop on the floor like a fish or roll your eyes out of your head and why you’re not listening now?”  It’s easy to get angry. Frustrated. What the book calls emotionally flooded. I think of the people swarming Jesus, ready to throw him off the cliff. I sometimes feel like those people.

I’m assuming that my naming concepts like frustration and anger in relation to parenting is not surprising anyone. So I want to open up the floor for you to share practices you’ve found helpful in moments of anger.

Reacting in anger is dangerous to you and your children, affects your clarity, and often times works against the behavior you desire in your children. At our worst, we take out our anger at our parenting failures on our children. You know that already. As my granny would say, “Be sweet to yourself.” Understand that breakdowns happen; it’s not the end of the world. Model asking forgiveness. Model receiving forgiveness with grace. Move on.

Come back when everybody’s calm; reclaim the teachable moment. Rename the expectation clearly. Keep learning as you teach.

Shifting gears.

Being intentional about providing your children with consistent boundaries, structure, and expectations can give your children a sense of belonging, safety, and peace. Similarly, the more uncertain a child is about her environment and its stability, the more prone she will be to agitation and acting out. What are some boundaries and daily structures you have found helpful? AND what are your biggest obstacles to providing these structures and boundaries as a parent?

What boundaries, structures, and expectations do you need as a parent? I’m a fan of spontaneity. My wife, if she had to pick, prefers structure. We have found structures that provide spontaneity. Like Friday Daddy/Daughter dates. We know when they’ll happen, but the particulars are up to me. Annie knows that she and Dad will hang out on Friday, taking some of the expectation off Mom, but our creative possibilities are not diminished. I would only emphasize that talking about your own structure needs – and those of your partner – will go a long way to your family’s finding a balance that is life-giving and supportive.

The curriculum suggests a three-line mantra as a summary for effective discipline: Say what you mean; mean what you say; don’t say it mean. Clarity; follow through; and what we’ll call grace. Not to beat a dead horse, but if my development is essential to the development of my children, I must be clear, consistent, and graceful with myself in order to maximize the benefit of these relationship qualities with my children.

The materials suggest a model for growth with three concentric circles: the comfort zone, growth zone, and panic zone. The comfort zone is essentially nonresponsive – reluctant to talk about sex or drugs, for example – the panic zone is overreaction, and the growth zone is seeking out resources like this and books, seeking conversation partners so that we as parents are in a position to be clear, consistent, and graceful when we do talk to our children.

Finally, Miranda talked about voice, and voice of course connects to effective discipline. Using a confident/consistent voice – remembering what you need in order to be confident and consistent – allows you to maintain expectations and boundaries while also continuing to build a strong emotional bond with your children. It feels unhelpful to review the voices that make for ineffective discipline, but I wonder if it might be useful to name them for the purpose of reflecting on the default voices of our upbringings and our experiences of them as they relate to discipline around our tables. The three other voices presented are controlling/autocratic – behavior driven by fear or punishment – passive/permissive – communication, boundaries, expectations are unclear and intentional growth is not directly encouraged – and detached/disengaged, wherein the child’s motivation suffers for lack of any real connection with the parent and expectations that would keep the child feeling safe, secure, and prepared.

Discipline is about teaching and learning. I am a disciple of Jesus whose rearing of children is a part of the life I am learning to live. This gives me patience because I realize that the time required to teach my children does not steal time from the life of faith; it is the life of faith. The life of holiness, even. Difficult, gritty, hard as hell holiness. Thanks be to God.

Thursday, February 14, 2013

A Less Sexy Love

Editor's Note: This reflection is a forthcoming piece in the Lenten devotional series by and for Young Adults organized by The Episcopal Church. I share it now because some young adults from St. Francis and I are gathering tonight - February 14th @ 6p.m., - at the Memorial Union's Rathskeller to informally discuss a love less in keeping with the commercially popular Valentine-sentiment. It's the love that is seemingly essential to the existence of saints and the convictions of martyrs (like St. Valentine): love for one's enemies. This reflection is my own internal springboard and reference point for approaching that conversation.   JRM+ 


Meditation for Palm Sunday, March 24
Scripture: Luke 19:28-40

“After Jesus had said this, he went on ahead, going up to Jerusalem” (Lk 19:28)

The “this” that Jesus said, before he went on ahead, up to Jerusalem, is the familiar parable of the talents, which ends with the nobleman’s ominous lines: “‘I tell you, to all those who have, more will be given; but from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away. But as for these enemies of mine who did not want me to be king over them—bring them here and slaughter them in my presence’” (Lk 19:26-27).

The connection between these earlier words and today’s reading swells with an unresolved tension. Plainly, the nobleman’s words do not prepare us to see the heralded, new king slaughtered. But God’s rejection of the evil wrought by “these enemies of mine who did not want me to be king over them,” lands squarely on Jesus.

Palm Sunday reveals Jesus as at the same time God’s elected and rejected one. This is meant to be Good News for us, but it is still hard to see Jesus slaughtered in the presence of God and God’s enemies. Harder still to hear the words on our lips – “Crucify him!” – and realize that we are God’s enemies, the ones “who did not want me to be king over them.” 

I do not like to think of myself as an enemy of God, but my not liking it does not by itself make it untrue. I am like the double agent who sometimes forgets whose side she is on. But I have found grace in Jesus’ hard words to his disciples, “Love your enemies” (Lk 6:27).

“Love your enemies” is what we do when we imitate God’s love for us.

Admittedly, I need God’s help to love my enemies. I pray that knowing I need God’s help to love my enemies makes me less of an enemy to God, but who can tell for sure if that is not the double agent talking? 

I used to think of an enemy as the worst thing a person could be, but enemy status has not proved enough to keep God from us and our being found in Christ. Instead, love without expectation or personal gain is arguably known only with the help of enemies to love. So I have learned to ask for God’s help in loving my enemies, and also to pray for more enemies to love.

Maybe loving enemies is how we go up, with Jesus, to Jerusalem. Maybe this is a piece of the surrender, the sacrifice, by which we learn the friendship of the crucified King.

A prayer for today:

God of the cross, sear these words of your Son on the hearts of your people, so we may live the love by which you have called us friends: “…love your enemies, do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return. Your reward will be great, and you will be children of the Most High; for he is kind to the ungrateful and the wicked. Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.” Amen.


Monday, February 11, 2013

Resources for Lent



A couple of days still before Lent. Here are some resources for Lent that I have found (or think might be) helpful. Please add your own resources in the comments' section of this post. With prayers for a Lent that is holy, life-giving, preparation for the great Paschal mystery.

Peace.
JRM+

1) Shedding Light on Lent: How the Transfiguration Shows Us What Lent is For; a homily that frames Lent within the central context of Jesus, baptism, and the destiny of God's people.

2) Common Prayer; a daily prayer resource based on the 'Ordinary Radicals' movement within the Church. Contains frequent references to contemporary issues with a strong emphasis on Christ and Christian living. Seasonal practices are helpfully suggested.

3) Lenten Meditations for Young Adults, (via the Episcopal Church); this series, written by young adults - including yours truly - debuts February 13.

4) Abiding by Ben Quash; this year's Lent Book, commissioned by the Archbishop of Canterbury.

5) Your Book of Common Prayer; especially the service of baptism (p299), the Easter Vigil (p285), and the Daily Office.

6) The Liturgy; don't stop going to Church during Lent; worship may be the best resource your have.

7) Your Bible; last but not least, read some Scripture. If you are looking for a place to start, the lessons outlined on page 288 of the BCP are a good place to start.

Observation: Reviewing this list, it is probably the case that the resources appear in reverse order of importance, though in that case 6 and 7 are a) and b) of the same number. Don't go to Church and not hear the Word; don't read your Bible without the Church. You know, keep your preacher honest.


Sunday, February 10, 2013

Shedding Light on Lent
(How the Transfiguration Shows Us
What Lent is For)

 

We’re about to hit the desert, head into Lent. Lent starts this Wednesday, with Ash Wednesday, and it’s long, forty days, a preparation for Easter. And it’s not supposed to feel good, Lent. No. Lent should be itchy and make us mindful of being miserable. Some people have bad grades, parents, or ex-girlfriends to keep them mindful of their miserableness. The rest of us need Lent, that great equalizer. Lent is for staying grounded; your not being above despair. 



Winter in Wisconsin is very Lenten, especially if you shovel your own driveway. Your skin dries out, splits, leaves your hands cracked and bleeding. Even hours later, when you’re prodigally indulging in the excesses of central heating, the dry skin keeps you itchy, even if your bed sheets are sinfully soft, leaves you itching all over. And there’s a certain justice in this. Jonesing for soft bed sheets, after all, is almost as spiritually misguided as your midwinter impulse for a day without the need for extra leggings, just one spring day with green grass and flowers sneaked into this season of snow and ice and blue sidewalk salts. Is that too much to ask? A single, spring day with green grass, warm sun, frisbees, and attractive people not wearing their whole wardrobes all at once, you know, with their knees and shoulders showing. Lent teaches you not to long for these things. 



Lent is for realists, the ones who know how silly and disappointing hope can be. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Grey skies and gloom. Lent is for people with the good sense not to call every invention of humankind progress (see here Tinkles the Toilet Cat – you can look it up – and waterboarding). It may sell and impress the neighbors - as seen on TV - it may seem essential to the protection of national and/or international securities, but Lenten types sense the futility of it all. Not just the pointlessness of it, but the seeming impossibility of it being otherwise. So Lent is for people who ride the engine of progress in ironic protest.



The question in Lent is how you step off the moving sidewalk, which I tried once, when my daughter got nervous, got cold feet that day at the airport. She was pushing the green stroller and it was on the rolling walkway, she was off it, just on the edge, and I was sailing along, out in front. She stopped, and I didn’t. Lent is like that. Awkward and hopeless. Like middle school. As a general rule I don’t trust individuals who remember middle school with fondness.



“What are you giving up for Lent?” That’s the question I remember from middle school at the Episcopal school I attended. And we’d talk about chocolate and Cokes and little brothers. A clergy spouse I know makes a joke of giving her husband up for Lent, what with the obligations Lent brings on for him. A friend of mine tried a kind of fast once. He gave up desserts, except for Sundays, which are feast days after all. But then he would transfer Sunday feasts to Tuesdays or Thursdays, swap them out, for convenience, and cash his chips in early.



You can start to see how it’s easy to get there - to that place where Lent means shoulds and shouldn’ts and rules and guilt and every time you ever got in trouble for anything, like Mrs. Tennison’s kindergarten class, when she saw you reach for the scissors that time and accused you of having plans for mischief that you later wished you’d really had. It’s not hard to see how people start talking about their being spiritual without being religious. 



But another friend of mine says that, despite its burdened reputation, Lent is really only ever about two things: preparing for baptism and remembering your baptism. Preparing to be baptized or remembering that you are. 



Huh.



A French writer once wrote (because that’s what writers do); he said, “In the end, life offers only one tragedy: not to have been a saint.” When Lent points us to baptism, it calls us to the life of the saint. The Transfiguration of Jesus, our gospel lesson today – and every last Sunday before Lent – is a picture of what it means to be a saint; a picture of what Lent is for.



When Peter, James, and John climb the mountain with sleepy eyes and stay awake just long enough to see their Lord transfigured, they see Jesus as he is, God’s only begotten Son. Very God of very God. Begotten, not made. By whom all things were made. When Peter, James, and John climb the mountain, they learn that to look on Christ is to look on God. 



But when Peter, James, and John climb the mountain, they also see a picture of themselves as they will be, in their Lord, transfigured. Glowing with the glory of God. Adam as Adam was created to be. When Peter, James, and John climb the mountain, they learn that to look on Christ is to see who they are made to be, and by whose power this is possible; as the disciples look on Christ, they enter the cloud; they shine with the glory; they begin their participation in the life of the triune God.



When the disciples look on Christ, they see both the face of God and the face of humanity, fully alive, in the presence of God. In this way, the Transfiguration of Jesus on this last Sunday before Lent means to show us God’s dream and our destiny. Lent is about preparing for glory. Lent is about becoming a saint. That’s why, in the end, Lent can only be about two things: preparing for baptism and remembering your baptism. Baptism into the death and resurrection of Jesus.



As much fun as religion-as-aimless-and-heavy-burden can be – cf., the surprisingly popular philosophy that says that if it feels good, it must be bad – consider, instead, that every practice taken on, every habit surrendered, might be examined this Lent in light of your baptism or its preparation. Of your would-be Lenten discipline, hasten to ask, “How does taking this on or giving that up immerse me more fully in the life, death, and resurrection of Christ?”



Giving up chocolates and Cokes are fine things, even for Lent, though they risk leaving you on the surface level of self-improvement. But this year, I’m thinking of disciplines that keep the focus on baptism squarely before me. This year, for example, I intend to memorize the Exsultet, that great hymn that begins the Easter Vigil, as a way of allowing the joy of that great feast to enter my bones. And because memorization is an under-appreciated practice these days, I think. I also plan to take five minutes each day at noon this Lent to reread the promises of my baptism as they appear on pages 304 and 305 in the Book of Common Prayer; trusting that by reading them in the middle of my ordinary day, my eyes might be opened to see new places in this life wherein the death and resurrection of Jesus find real currency, makes new claims on me. 



You can begin to see the possibilities. Possibilities not simply to be made better, but to be made real. Putting on Christ, to be made a saint, even. Shining with the glory of God. This is what Lent is for and why Lent, in the end, can only be about two things: preparing for baptism and remembering your baptism. Baptism into the death and resurrection of Jesus.



I’ll see you in the desert.



Amen.

SFH.2.10.13

Sunday, February 3, 2013

Love and Improv
(learning to love what is)

In honor of Sunday's appointed epistle, that great chapter in 1 Corinthians, a three-fold ode to love:

The first is a post-script from yesterday's reflection on the wisdom of Wayne Shorter, from my brother Matthew, himself a musician of considerable wisdom and beauty. Here' what he writes, in response to yesterday's piece:

"That's really cool; there are a couple of books I have (written by jazz musicians) who talk much about that. About practicing 'presence' BY 'not practicing the future'. To me True Improvisation (not just in music) is such a lost art. To really improvise is to be fully present, aware, to see/hear things as they present themselves in the moment, to let all 'concepts' go. I think it is much like Love."

It's hard for me to read Matthew's words without thinking of Jesus' encouragement to be people of ears that hear and eyes that see.

And then there's this tremendous hymn (612 of the 1982 Hymnal) that marked the Gospel sequence in worship this morning that simply stopped me sort in its boldness - "give us love" - and simplicity:

Gracious Spirit, Holy Ghost,
taught by thee we covet most,
of thy gifts at Pentecost,
holy heavenly, love.


Love is kind, and suffers long,
love is meek, and thinks no wrong,
love than death itself more strong;
therefore, give us love.


Prophecy will fade away,
melting in the light of day;
love will ever with us stay;
therefore, give us love.


Faith and hope and love we see,
joining hand in hand, agree,
but the greatest of the three,
and the best, is love.


And last, but not least, the Avett Brothers and their heartbreaking, beautiful song about the victory we did not think to expect from Love.

Saturday, February 2, 2013

"How Do You Rehearse the Unknown?"


I hopped into the car today - warming the engine ahead of Bek and the kids for a family trek across town -  and so caught the tail end of an NPR interview with legendary Jazz musician Wayne Shorter. I was captivated, then stopped short, by his words which both truly describe jazz and immediately transcend it.

"The six years I was with Miles, we never talked about music. We never had a rehearsal," Shorter says. "Jazz shouldn't have any mandates. Jazz is not supposed to be something that's required to sound like jazz. For me, the word 'jazz' means, 'I dare you.' The effort to break out of something is worth more than getting an A in syncopation.

"This music, it's dealing with the unexpected," he adds. "No one really knows how to deal with the unexpected. How do you rehearse the unknown?"

I found myself reflecting on Shorter's words with respect to three recent and particular points of connection:

1) The bold and inspiring honesty with which Bishop Curry recently described the challenge before the Episcopal Church - to be the Church - in an unknown context, into an unknown future.

2) Duke Divinity School's educational emphasis on practices that form virtue and character - over, say, situational ethics - as corresponding to the jazz musician's preparation for the performance she, by definition, can never rehearse.

3) This splendid piece (below) by Jeremy Begbie, reflecting on improvisation, Christian character, and the work of the Holy Spirit in the life of the people of God. (It is probably not responsible to leave out Sam Wells' work here, too, chiefly 'Improvisation,' which looks at many of these same themes through the lens of theater, and so of status, givens, and over-acceptance.)

May we Christians, after the example of Wayne Shorter, find the freedom to be shaped by the tradition we receive, the courage to go on stage not knowing, the grace to be inspired of the Spirit, and the commitment to succeed and fail, equally and beautifully.

Pumpkins, My Daughter, and Giving to the Life We've Been to Share

Every year round about March, my four-year old starts asking me if we can visit the pumpkins after school. Every day, beginning in March, I’...