Obey your father
“Arnold, you sit here!” the elderly father commanded his sons, themselves in their early sixties. Supper was ready to be served, and he was eager to get down to eating.
Arnold and his brother Otto were both men of accomplishment and reputation as leaders, both priests, one a monsignor, the other president of a large Catholic high school, a notable fundraiser and advisor to the Archbishop. These were men well accustomed to giving direction and seeing it carried out. And now their father was taking a heavy hand in something as mundane as telling them where to sit for supper.
At first he bristled, Fr. Arnold said, before accepting that of course he should do as his father commanded. Fr. Arnold was always fond of telling this story as an example of the importance of obedience to God, but I’ve always taken it at face value, illustrating the importance of obeying your earthly father.
Normally an essay of appreciation like this would wait for Father’s Day, but having recently grieved the passing of a relative, I’m freshly mindful of needing to say and do the good thing today, not waiting. Now, it’s easy to appreciate and obey parents like mine, who are the very image of happy healthy seniorhood, all crewneck sweaters and cider-tinged sunlight and autumnal leaves and laughing grandchildren; really, exactly the people you’d wish to obey. Yet without commanding, they’ve provided very clear instructions on how to live. In the imperative form, then:
Live completely right now. When you’re enjoying a meal together, really savor it. Compliment the cook often and effusively. Food is love; take seconds, and take some home. When swimming in a cold northern lake, thrill to the chill; holler out “Man oh man and boy howdy hoo!” and really mean it. (Everyone should have a signature phrase like my dad’s!)
Play favorites with the kids. In a busy family of six kids, you’d imagine it would be easy to get lost in the shuffle. Somehow, my folks managed to make my brothers and sisters each believe, with deep sincerity and demonstrable evidence, that he or she is the favorite. They’re all correct; however, I really am the favorite favorite.
Listen to the loons. Not your parents; well, yes, listen to your parents, but don’t call them loons. Buying a lake home 25 years ago has probably extended their lives another five or ten years. Find your refuge, your quiet place, and treasure it, guard it, be refreshed by it.
Always be learning. A lifelong student of World War II, especially the war in the Pacific, my dad recently indulged in the trip of the lifetime, travelling by bush plane, tramp steamer and dumb luck to remote battle sites throughout the South Pacific. Mom keeps the classical musical station play list next to her radio, to constantly extend her knowledge of the repertoire. Librarians head for the reserve section when they spot them coming in the door. As Oliver Wendell Holmes said, “A mind, once stretched to accommodate a new idea, never returns to its original dimensions.”
Be thankful and humble, always and fully. Our family would pray Grace before meals, to which my father would always append “Dear Lord, we thank you for all your many blessings, we acknowledge that all things we have come from you, and without you we are nothing.” Be constantly mindful and teaching of the
bounty given you.
Since your kids will pick up your prejudices, make sure they’re good ones, toward virtue, wisdom and service. Sure, the occasional rogue may creep in. Somewhere along the way, I thought I had learned from my invariably well-dressed father that winners never wore green business suits. Years later, seeing him in a khaki green suit, I was surprised. He disavows ever making the pronouncement, but my deep-rooted aversion persists. If something meaningless like that can take hold so deeply, imagine the perniciousness of bigotry, hatred and intolerance.
Tithe. The checkbook in the family room desk held the “tithe checkbook,” a separate bank account maintained for charitable giving. What a gift it was to know that there was always something available to give. Spread it around or focus it on your passion, but share it.
Be something. Do something. Care about something. In church, in politics, in community affairs, know what you believe and then do something about it. Don’t be the person who says, “What happened?”
It’s their life…let them live it their way. Let your kids live their own adult lives. You can’t compel obedience any longer. On the other side, caring for your aging parents, let them retire and choose their final choices their own way. Our recently passed relative had long ago made her peace, was prepared and glad to meet her reward, and passed gently without extreme interventions, just as she wished.
Measure yourself against your parents. It’s not a competition, but strive to match them in happiness, virtue, faith and love of your family. By my age, my dad was at the top of his profession, and my folks were busily putting kids through high school and college, and having a ball all the way. I’m sure he was at least as happy with his brood of six as I am with my two.
Obey your parents, and maybe someday your kids will obey you. At least they might sit where you tell them to.
Arnold and his brother Otto were both men of accomplishment and reputation as leaders, both priests, one a monsignor, the other president of a large Catholic high school, a notable fundraiser and advisor to the Archbishop. These were men well accustomed to giving direction and seeing it carried out. And now their father was taking a heavy hand in something as mundane as telling them where to sit for supper.
At first he bristled, Fr. Arnold said, before accepting that of course he should do as his father commanded. Fr. Arnold was always fond of telling this story as an example of the importance of obedience to God, but I’ve always taken it at face value, illustrating the importance of obeying your earthly father.
Normally an essay of appreciation like this would wait for Father’s Day, but having recently grieved the passing of a relative, I’m freshly mindful of needing to say and do the good thing today, not waiting. Now, it’s easy to appreciate and obey parents like mine, who are the very image of happy healthy seniorhood, all crewneck sweaters and cider-tinged sunlight and autumnal leaves and laughing grandchildren; really, exactly the people you’d wish to obey. Yet without commanding, they’ve provided very clear instructions on how to live. In the imperative form, then:
Live completely right now. When you’re enjoying a meal together, really savor it. Compliment the cook often and effusively. Food is love; take seconds, and take some home. When swimming in a cold northern lake, thrill to the chill; holler out “Man oh man and boy howdy hoo!” and really mean it. (Everyone should have a signature phrase like my dad’s!)
Play favorites with the kids. In a busy family of six kids, you’d imagine it would be easy to get lost in the shuffle. Somehow, my folks managed to make my brothers and sisters each believe, with deep sincerity and demonstrable evidence, that he or she is the favorite. They’re all correct; however, I really am the favorite favorite.
Listen to the loons. Not your parents; well, yes, listen to your parents, but don’t call them loons. Buying a lake home 25 years ago has probably extended their lives another five or ten years. Find your refuge, your quiet place, and treasure it, guard it, be refreshed by it.
Always be learning. A lifelong student of World War II, especially the war in the Pacific, my dad recently indulged in the trip of the lifetime, travelling by bush plane, tramp steamer and dumb luck to remote battle sites throughout the South Pacific. Mom keeps the classical musical station play list next to her radio, to constantly extend her knowledge of the repertoire. Librarians head for the reserve section when they spot them coming in the door. As Oliver Wendell Holmes said, “A mind, once stretched to accommodate a new idea, never returns to its original dimensions.”
Be thankful and humble, always and fully. Our family would pray Grace before meals, to which my father would always append “Dear Lord, we thank you for all your many blessings, we acknowledge that all things we have come from you, and without you we are nothing.” Be constantly mindful and teaching of the
bounty given you.
Since your kids will pick up your prejudices, make sure they’re good ones, toward virtue, wisdom and service. Sure, the occasional rogue may creep in. Somewhere along the way, I thought I had learned from my invariably well-dressed father that winners never wore green business suits. Years later, seeing him in a khaki green suit, I was surprised. He disavows ever making the pronouncement, but my deep-rooted aversion persists. If something meaningless like that can take hold so deeply, imagine the perniciousness of bigotry, hatred and intolerance.
Tithe. The checkbook in the family room desk held the “tithe checkbook,” a separate bank account maintained for charitable giving. What a gift it was to know that there was always something available to give. Spread it around or focus it on your passion, but share it.
Be something. Do something. Care about something. In church, in politics, in community affairs, know what you believe and then do something about it. Don’t be the person who says, “What happened?”
It’s their life…let them live it their way. Let your kids live their own adult lives. You can’t compel obedience any longer. On the other side, caring for your aging parents, let them retire and choose their final choices their own way. Our recently passed relative had long ago made her peace, was prepared and glad to meet her reward, and passed gently without extreme interventions, just as she wished.
Measure yourself against your parents. It’s not a competition, but strive to match them in happiness, virtue, faith and love of your family. By my age, my dad was at the top of his profession, and my folks were busily putting kids through high school and college, and having a ball all the way. I’m sure he was at least as happy with his brood of six as I am with my two.
Obey your parents, and maybe someday your kids will obey you. At least they might sit where you tell them to.