My parents expected me to become intellectually independent but they definitely did not like some of the influences on my life, starting with the Quakers at a Christian teens summer camp who were pacifists and got me thinking about where Jesus stood on the subject of arms and war. Few people of their generation were anti-war. In university, when I had to become financial independent to keep studying, they were deeply upset by my decision to take a job (on campus) in theatre. They equated that employment with immorality. But my father also held me responsible for his suicidal feelings when I wanted to have my own apartment with friends although everyone's financial situation was dire. It was the first time I made a decision I felt called to by God. And they did come to see I was still my Christian self in that admittedly more challenging environment. And that I still came home and helped out and so on. Things got much worse when I was joining the Roman Catholic church. It was not a matter of study and choice, it was a matter, again, of believing God was calling me to do something whether or not I preferred it. My father disowned me. I was "building a wall between us that stretched up to Heaven." I actually wondered if he would consider killing me to prevent my damnation, or some such lunatic thing. My mother, of course, was steadfastly loving and took courses at St. Michael's College at the University of Toronto to come to the conclusion that "we are still the same." Eventually, Dad came round. They both lived to see us leave the RC church 25 years later, and rejoin the Anglicans, again, not as an intellectual choice but a community necessity under weird circumstances that had arisen. I have seen a great many people have to make those sorts of family decisions where they had to choose between Jesus' call upon their lives and the resistance or opposition of their parents or extended family.
Thank you for sharing this, Laurna. There is a lot of pain in that journey, but also a remarkable consistency running through it.
What strikes me is that, more than once, the decisive question for you was not simply “What do I prefer?” or even “What makes the most intellectual sense?” but “What do I believe I am being called to do?” And that can become very costly when the people we love interpret that decision as rejection of them.
Jesus’ words about family are among the hardest in the Gospels precisely because family bonds are real and good. Following him does not mean becoming careless about those relationships. But neither does it mean allowing them to become the final authority over conscience.
I am glad your parents eventually came to see that your choices had not erased the person they knew. Your mother’s conclusion, “we are still the same”, is especially moving.
Perhaps that is one of the difficult tests of vocation: whether we can remain loving and faithful to the people around us without handing them ownership of the path we believe we are being asked to walk.
Two things stood out to me. First, "I sometimes suspect comfort may be one of the strongest allegiances of all in Western culture." This is a new thought for me: making an idol of comfort. Think of all the things we do to avoid discomfort.
The second thing is the foundation idea. What are we choosing as our foundation? Love, family, comfort, self-determination?
Thank you Arlene. The comfort one has been nagging at me too. Comfort is not wrong in itself, but it can become strangely powerful when avoiding discomfort starts deciding what we will believe, what we will risk, who we will listen to, or whether we will act at all.
And I think your second question gets even closer to the heart of it: what are we actually building on?
My parents expected me to become intellectually independent but they definitely did not like some of the influences on my life, starting with the Quakers at a Christian teens summer camp who were pacifists and got me thinking about where Jesus stood on the subject of arms and war. Few people of their generation were anti-war. In university, when I had to become financial independent to keep studying, they were deeply upset by my decision to take a job (on campus) in theatre. They equated that employment with immorality. But my father also held me responsible for his suicidal feelings when I wanted to have my own apartment with friends although everyone's financial situation was dire. It was the first time I made a decision I felt called to by God. And they did come to see I was still my Christian self in that admittedly more challenging environment. And that I still came home and helped out and so on. Things got much worse when I was joining the Roman Catholic church. It was not a matter of study and choice, it was a matter, again, of believing God was calling me to do something whether or not I preferred it. My father disowned me. I was "building a wall between us that stretched up to Heaven." I actually wondered if he would consider killing me to prevent my damnation, or some such lunatic thing. My mother, of course, was steadfastly loving and took courses at St. Michael's College at the University of Toronto to come to the conclusion that "we are still the same." Eventually, Dad came round. They both lived to see us leave the RC church 25 years later, and rejoin the Anglicans, again, not as an intellectual choice but a community necessity under weird circumstances that had arisen. I have seen a great many people have to make those sorts of family decisions where they had to choose between Jesus' call upon their lives and the resistance or opposition of their parents or extended family.
Thank you for sharing this, Laurna. There is a lot of pain in that journey, but also a remarkable consistency running through it.
What strikes me is that, more than once, the decisive question for you was not simply “What do I prefer?” or even “What makes the most intellectual sense?” but “What do I believe I am being called to do?” And that can become very costly when the people we love interpret that decision as rejection of them.
Jesus’ words about family are among the hardest in the Gospels precisely because family bonds are real and good. Following him does not mean becoming careless about those relationships. But neither does it mean allowing them to become the final authority over conscience.
I am glad your parents eventually came to see that your choices had not erased the person they knew. Your mother’s conclusion, “we are still the same”, is especially moving.
Perhaps that is one of the difficult tests of vocation: whether we can remain loving and faithful to the people around us without handing them ownership of the path we believe we are being asked to walk.
And it works the other way around with the next generation!
Shanah Tovah to you, also!
Two things stood out to me. First, "I sometimes suspect comfort may be one of the strongest allegiances of all in Western culture." This is a new thought for me: making an idol of comfort. Think of all the things we do to avoid discomfort.
The second thing is the foundation idea. What are we choosing as our foundation? Love, family, comfort, self-determination?
You've got me thinking this morning! Thank you!
Thank you Arlene. The comfort one has been nagging at me too. Comfort is not wrong in itself, but it can become strangely powerful when avoiding discomfort starts deciding what we will believe, what we will risk, who we will listen to, or whether we will act at all.
And I think your second question gets even closer to the heart of it: what are we actually building on?
“What am I doing this for?” More than Post It worthy. Tattoo worthy, on my heart. Shanah tovah, to all.
Thank you. And Shanah tovah to you too. May the year ahead bring plenty of moments that remind us what we are doing this for.