Parents as faith teachers

I recently read a social media post from an mother that said she was concerned about her son, who was expressing his love of God. She surprised me by continuing,  “I wish I could just enjoy it and not feel this weird sadness about it."

This caused me to pause and reflect. The anxiety many parents feel about their children’s increasing awareness of all that is sad and wrong and violent hurts. Sometimes as their children’s spiritual imaginations grow, parents’ anxieties and sadness about the disappointments that their children will inevitably discover increases.

Over the years, some parents have shared with me that they love how their children’s developing faith begins to give the children a moral compass and makes helps to them feel safe and loved. These same parents, however, then express concern about just how to talk with their kids later, when they pose more complicated questions about their own personal faith.

Through some study and experience, I can only dare to offer a few observations.

First, we shouldn’t try to protect a child’s innocence. That might seem counterintuitive to most, but experience shows that going to great lengths to shield children from the cruel realities of the world only creates a more anxious situation. Consider, after all, that in our world, children do active shooter drills in elementary schools. Certainly, they will want to know why. But they also will want our reassurance that we will do everything we can to protect them from harm. This is equally true for any of the difficulties they may face in life.

Second,  if we try to avoid difficult conversations about things like sexism or racism (two of the most pervasive injustices our world suffers), we do so from a position of privilege. Let’s be frank about this, most of the Episcopal church in our region are white and middle-class. Studies done about talking to children about a topic like racism, for example, reveal that we unknowingly actually nurture racism in young children when we presume that what is normal for us as adults (for example, that the police are always there to help us) is always true for communities of color. It simply isn't. That fact is unavoidable. Just look at the news.

Third, parents must take an age-appropriate approach to having hard conversations with their children. We can push the boundaries a bit on what we consider “age-appropriate” and give kids, even young ones, much more benefit of the doubt. We may be surprised about the questions kids actually ask – “out of the mouths of babes . . .” Parents might want to be a bit more mindful that it is not enough just to have “the talk” – a once and done attempt at communicating a complicated topic. The best approach may just be to let children ask questions when they ae ready, but be prepared in advance to give the answers they need and can understand.

Fourth, we need to remember that the story of our faith is one where God continually demonstrates the power to create good things from bad situations: the people of Israel was born out of slavery; a renewed creation emerged after a devastating flood; and, most obviously, Jesus rose to never-ending life after cruel suffering and death. The Christian story is one worth sharing with out children. It is a story in which people have believed for centuries because it is holy and filled with truth. It reminds us that the world can be a terrible place and that people can do terrible things. But those terrible things don’t have the last word. (That’s really the central message of the last book of the Bible, Book of Revelation!) 

Some in my own family decided to raise their children without “forcing” any kind of faith system or religion on them. By avoiding the Christian story altogether, they believed it would be better for their children to figure out what they believed on their own. They were convinced that it was more important for kids to find their own answers by choosing their own path. The problem is that the kids really didn’t have anything to work with. When faced with tragedy, the children, even as adults, didn’t have the tried and true religious lessons that have sustained us to fall back on. In fact, they didn’t even have anything to reject. In that case, at least they would have something to move away from as they sought to discover answers and find comfort for themselves. As a grandparent in my last parish observed, “It’s hard when they are little, and everything is black and white for them. Faith is so murky. That’s why we bring our grandchildren with us to church when they have them and try to answer their questions as honestly as we can.” 

Finally, at some point all parents, whether or not they raise children in a religious tradition, have to “let go.” We begin letting go from the time they are babies increasingly allowing children more and more freedom in their own lives. For example, a six-year-old may select and open his own after-school snacks; a thirteen-year-old may choose which shoes she wants to buy for the first day of school; and, the seventeen-year-old may drive herself to soccer practice.

We might consider taking a similar approach toward kids’ Christian formation. We wouldn’t expect a youngster to know how to open a bag of Goldfish crackers without showing him how. So how can we expect him to know how to pray without showing him?

Because it is just as much our responsibility to protect our children from emotional and spiritual harm as it is from physical harm, the need to let go can be extremely challenging. The truth is, most adults are struggling with their own faith questions. (For a mature Christian, that struggle never ends.) We too often remember our own hurts and struggles and want to protect those we love so much from similar difficulties. These memories of spiritual pain and struggle magnify our anxiety about our children. In the end, we need to remember that every person’s faith journey is not necessarily the same as our own, but that each one needs to take that journey. With a better understanding of how people grow and develop in their faith, it may be a bit easier to avoid overly simplistic forumlas ao that, as our children get older and more sophisticated, they may be able to avoif beomcing totally disillusioned.

So, in the end, it is not despite, but because of life's trials and disappointments, that we must foster our children's spiritual imaginations by rediscovering our own.

Nomads no more

I recently completed a book by Diana Butler Bass entitled Christianity for the Rest of Us: How the Neighborhood Church Is Transforming the Faith (HarperOne, 2006). At one point, Bass addresses an issue that confronts the Church universal in our modern age: radical individualism. We can get nostalgic about the day when people thought more of community or the common good than themselves. But the fact is that from ancient days, human beings have alternately seen themselves either more as individuals or more as members of a larger body. In our nation’s history, for example, we can see a swung from the self-seeking era of the Roaring 20s to the selflessness of "The Greatest Generation." In the case of the Church, I think we might understand this tension better and move to a resolution if we think in terms of nomads and pilgrims.

One of the dominating characteristics of life today is that of wandering – moving from experience to experience for the sake of experience alone. By its nature, wandering is an individualistic activity, with an occasional need to “network” or "hook-up” for a time to accomplish a specific purpose. Once the wanderer accomplishes their aim, they go off on their own again.

By definition, a nomad is one that constantly changes locations, moving from one place to another. Many nomads have some place that they may call “home,” which is usually where their family or childhood friends are located, but even if they go back there, they wouldn't spend more than a little time. We might know people (sometimes in our own family or among our closest friends) that are essentially spiritual nomads. They may return to their church "home" from time to time to seek out one or another religious service, like a wedding, a funeral, or a baptism.

You can often spot a spiritual nomad by their attitude and their assertions about their freedom from religion. Most importantly, they serve as their own judge when it comes to matters of ethics, moral choices, and religious preferences. More often than not their real purpose is to avoid any need to defer to higher authority, or simply to avoid taking an established path. We have even comes up with a moniker to identify such folks, what church leaders often call the “NONES” – otherwise known as the "spiritual but not religious."


Like nomads, pilgrims travel, but a pilgrim doesn’t merely wander. Rather, a pilgrim’s travels have a specific destination in mind. By that simple definition, any commuter might be considered a pilgrim. But there is more to being a pilgrim than merely reaching one’s destination. For the pilgrim, the trip itself takes on more importance than its destination. Pilgrims tend to travel slowly, deliberately, experiencing almost every step along the way. The pilgrim notices things and finds treasures any commuter would probably never see. The pilgrim meets others along the way who might just be traveling the same path. They begin to share stories, to debate ideas, and learn to support one another as they travel. By the end of the pilgrimage, these “fellow travelers” bond with one another as they share their vision in the hoped-for destination. In short, they form a common-union, a community.

It is interesting that in the earliest days of Christianity, being a disciple of Jesus was often referred to as following “The Way.” This is the heart of Presiding Bishop Michael Curry’s call to us to see ourselves as pilgrims on the “Way of Love,” a series of spiritual practices that have been tried and true for disciples through the ages. .

It is true that many NONES experience a genuine longing for spiritual experience. But in their longing they wander from one experience to another. Sometimes they become so frustrated in their wandering that they reject the quest all together. Pilgrims, on the other hand, travel a well-worn path – they follow a way that others have proven will get them to where they want to go. This is the role of tradition in the spiritual life. By linking people’s natural longing for spiritual experience with  Christian tradition, the Church provides pilgrims with a way not only to survive but to thrive.

Far from condemning or fearing expressions of individual spiritual freedoms, however, we should welcome their expression as the first step toward spiritual renewal. Over its long history, those who have followed the Anglican path often find in a parish community a place where the contradictions of life (like freedom and tradition) are not rejected but celebrated. By inviting spiritual nomads to walk with us on our spiritual journeys, we might see how the power of God can transform nomads into pilgrims and give wanderers the purpose and meaning they ultimately seek. For this to happen, we must be willing to share our spiritual journeys (both the good and the bad) as we make our way through life. We need to allow others to experience how we make our way amidst life's challenges. We can help others to experience the “interesting things” we continue to discover along "The Way."

This summer take a daring step: invite others to join you on your own pilgrimage. T
ogether we may reach that destiny, which God has in store for all God’s children.