Okay, I exaggerate. Even Frank Schaeffer himself doesn't claim that he is personally and singlehandedly responsible for the current election season. But the full title of his autobiography is, after all, Crazy for God: How I Grew up As One of the Elect, Helped Found the Religious Right, and Lived to Take All (or Almost All) of It Back. So he cannot be accused of underestimating his own importance -- or that of his parents, Francis and Edith Schaeffer, founders of L'Abri Fellowship.
The senior Schaeffers were vital to my experience of the Christian faith. In the late 60's, Francis Schaeffer, already a deep thinker, teacher and writer about the intersection of Christianity and culture, became very interested in the hippie movement that called into question "bourgeois" and "plastic" values. By the time I became a Christian in 1974, it was almost trite to say that authors like Samuel Beckett and musicians like Bob Dylan-- the artists who were the wallpaper of my secular upbringing-- were asking the right questions, maybe even doing God's work without knowing it. Everyone (except me; I could NOT get through it!) was talking about Francis Schaeffer's How Should We Then Live?The Rise and Decline of Western Thought and Culture and its vision of the redemptive power of popular artistic expressions.
But Schaeffer also foresaw the limitations of this new peace culture. Frank quotes him as saying, "You wait; the hippies are going to wind up more middle-class, bourgeois and materialistic than their parents... If they are asked to make a choice between freedom and security, they'll choose security." Obviously it took 9/11 to bring this prediction to full flower, but by the time I was in college in 1978, it was already starting to happen. Hippies were long-gone, and the new fad was pink and green, Muffy and Biff, and "greed is good." My formerly radical church, that didn't even have a name and that taught a Christian version of "Turn on, tune in, drop out" that involved dropping out of college to evangelize the world ASAP (since Jesus could return at any moment, rendering your college degree pointless), suddenly adopted the "Church as Corporation" model and made us all Tom Peters disciples seeking to glorify God through the Search for Excellence.
Meanwhile, we had suddenly become aware of the abortion issue. This, too, was Francis Schaeffer's doing. He and Frank joined forces with C. Everett Koop, soon to become the Surgeon General of the United States, to put together Whatever Happened to the Human Race?, a critique of the "culture of death" they saw developing in America. Roe v. Wade was only a few years old when women-- and a few men-- began protesting it, and our campus movement was no exception. In 1980, we took a bus trip from Kansas to the Democratic National Convention in New York City (and, yes, that trip was exactly how you are imagining it) to ask for a pro-life plank in the platform. Frank feels that there was a critical moment where the Democrats could have owned life issues-- after all, they were already associated with the expansion of civil rights, so this was a logical extension for them. But that ship has sailed...
Also at this same time, Edith Schaeffer and her daughter, Frank's sister, Susan Schaeffer Macauley, were changing the daily domestic lives of evangelical wives. Edith wrote a book called The Hidden Art of Homemaking that explained how a woman could find a creative outlet and a ministry by making her home beautiful-- a practice that not even Frank can deny was extremely important to her at L'Abri. Macauley, who had been Frank's teacher for stretches of time when she was in her teens, had discovered that a homeschooling woman could find intellectual as well as artistic challenge even as she embraced a conservative definition of being a "keeper at home." Her exhortations to use the Great Books-- meaningful and beautiful literature that had withstood the test of time-- was the bedrock of all 11 years of my homeschooling career.
So whether Francis and Edith Schaeffer and their children, Frank and Susan, changed and/or ruined America, their activities certainly paralleled and possibly inspired all the themes of my youth. Even the way Frank resolved his spiritual struggles was almost stereotypical of my generation of evangelicals: he joined the Greek Orthodox church. Some of our fellow Boomers have also found that this ancient communion is the perfect antidote to the rapid change that can take place in newer movements.
Frank's account of these years is full of contradictions. Most spectacularly, there is Frank's obvious and deep ambivalence towards his parents. He can't quite seem to figure out whether he views them with deep affection and respect or considers himself to have been abused in some way. Os Guiness, a former L'Abri worker, strongly defends Francis from Frank's criticism-- if you can't get that article to open, some of the same thoughts are available from less personally involved sources that also address Frank's more general criticisms of the greater evangelical context of that period. Given that some of Frank's allegations just don't hold up to fact-checking, it does make one wonder whether Frank prioritized accuracy at any point in his writing.
Then there's Frank's attitude towards himself. He is by turns self-serving and self-flagellating, dropping names and painting himself as one of the key figures in the transformation of American politics in the 80's, yet also airing his own personal, political and spiritual dirty laundry throughout the book.
Finally, there's Frank's writing style. It's gripping. It's irresistible. It's like a big bag of potato chips-- you suspect it is bad for you, but you just can't stop -- until, all of a sudden, it's not, running aground on pages of name-checking or bizarre allegations or uncomfortably scatalogical reminiscences. All the reviewers agree that this is a (for the most part) fantastically well-written book that may or may not actually have anything worthwhile to say. What kept me turning pages through thick and thin, though, was this sense that I was getting a backstage tour to the backdrop of my life, and that was definitely worth the ride.
Tuesday, April 19, 2016
Saturday, April 2, 2016
260-269 and 270-279: Social Justice, Churches and Ministries Past and Present
At this point, I am starting to feel that Dewey felt that he had decades to burn under the rubric of Religion, aka, Christianity. As we have already seen, he assigns a full 10 (240-249) to personal observance of Christianity and 10 more (250-259) to ministers and ministries of the local church. Turns out he then goes on to assign a full decade (260-269) to "Social and Ecclesiological Theology," which in practice means, "discussions of current movements and ministries of the Church worldwide," and another (270-279) to Christian history, which in practice means, "discussions of PAST movements and ministries of the Church worldwide." That distinction, of course, becomes problematic since today' news is tomorrow's history. He wraps that up with 10 more digits (280-289, coming soon to a blog near you!)assigned to various specific denominations (just in case they hadn't been dealt with previously as local, national or international churches or movements past or present.)
Combine these categorizations that seem tidy on paper, but actually split hairs, with cataloguers who may not know much about the book in hand or the subject matter in general, and the overall effect is that various topics in corporate Christian life seem all jumbled up, and all the more so because interspersed throughout are memoirs of people who had specific experience with one of these topics. If you want missionary biography or the lives of the saints, they're around here somewhere (usually, but not always, in 266 and 270, respectively), as are stunt memoirs like A.J.Jacobs' The Year of Living Biblically (shouldn't that be in 220?) and all its spawn.
As it happens, I love stunt memoirs and even regular ones, so these two decades were a gold mine for me. They were a peek behind the curtain of my own personal Christian history. Crazy for God is Frank Schaeffer's highly readable, if not excessively accurate, take on his parents, Francis and Edith Schaeffer, who pretty much singlehandedly founded the approach to faith that I came into and practice pretty much to this day. Larry Norman, Steve Taylor, Donald Miller, Relevant magazine, Marilynne Robinson, Makoto Fujimura, all owe a conscious or unconscious debt to the work Schaeffer, Sr., did to give evangelical Christianity a respect for the arts.
Philip Yancey was the editor of Campus Life magazine, and Campus Life was how I came to Jesus, so of course I was interested in his story, Soul Survivor. Or rather, the story of the authors and thinkers who have influenced his faith most positively. From GK Chesterton to C Everett Koop, from Gandhi to Henri Nouwen, it's an eclectic bunch, and the fact that an evangelical leader can find common cause with all of them is, I think, a testimony to Francis Schaeffer's influence on Christian culture.
In college, I joined a campus ministry that defies brief description. One thing's for sure: many of the founding members came from the Plymouth Brethren movement. Thus it was with great interest that I picked up In the World but Not of It, by Brett Grainger. He confirms that it's from the Plymouth Brethren that my church inherited such distinctives as political and cultural activism, the fervent espousal of Creation Science, and the insistence on women covering their heads, at least during prayer.
Women covering their heads... by the time I had read through the Bible once, it was obvious that my newfound faith presented some particular dilemmas for a girl who grew up in a household where Ms. magazine was de riguer. So as I stood before the hot mess that is 260-279 in my local library, you bet I chose A Year of Biblical Womanhood, by Rachel Held Evans. (Did I mention I'm a sucker for stunt memoirs?) I've been curious about Evans for a while now, and anybody who's going to go mano a mano with the Proverbs 31 woman has my attention anyway.
Speaking of Biblical gender roles, various definitions of, brings me to my last selection: Quiverfull, by Kathryn Joyce. I kind of don't want to write about this book, because, gentle reader, if you are unaware of this extreme interpretation of traditional gender roles and family structure, it is unlikely that learning about it is going to make you happier. Apparently some celebrity family called Duggar may exemplify some of its elements, but I wouldn't know. What I do know is that actual people I actually was friends with in my homeschooling days actually completely believed every single thing that's described in the links. It's obvious how some of these beliefs are damaging to women; may I just say that they are also surprisingly damaging to men, at least to those who were not endowed by their creator with exceptionally bossy tendencies, and are therefore made to feel inadequate in communities where this teaching prevails.
By now I've visited, attended, belonged to, or known an evangelist for a variety of churches. I have attended a Latin mass and seen Pope Francis. I have clapped with the happy and stood up, sat down and kneeled on cue with the "frozen chosen." I have met in homes, elementary school auditoriums, buildings with tin roofs, and cathedrals complete with stained glass and statues. I have sat on folding chairs, pews and sofas. And often have I had reason to wonder what a nonbeliever would make of the experience I am having. Jim Henderson did not just wonder. He hired his atheist friend Matt Casper to come with him to twelve of the most well-known churches in the country and report his honest opinions, and then they wrote a dual stunt memoir: Jim and Casper Go to Church. This book promises to be wildly biased, highly entertaining, and as insightful as any conversation with someone who you really respect and with whom you almost completely disagree. Can't wait!
And that's my book haul from 260-279. Now, if you'll excuse me, I better get reading!
Combine these categorizations that seem tidy on paper, but actually split hairs, with cataloguers who may not know much about the book in hand or the subject matter in general, and the overall effect is that various topics in corporate Christian life seem all jumbled up, and all the more so because interspersed throughout are memoirs of people who had specific experience with one of these topics. If you want missionary biography or the lives of the saints, they're around here somewhere (usually, but not always, in 266 and 270, respectively), as are stunt memoirs like A.J.Jacobs' The Year of Living Biblically (shouldn't that be in 220?) and all its spawn.
As it happens, I love stunt memoirs and even regular ones, so these two decades were a gold mine for me. They were a peek behind the curtain of my own personal Christian history. Crazy for God is Frank Schaeffer's highly readable, if not excessively accurate, take on his parents, Francis and Edith Schaeffer, who pretty much singlehandedly founded the approach to faith that I came into and practice pretty much to this day. Larry Norman, Steve Taylor, Donald Miller, Relevant magazine, Marilynne Robinson, Makoto Fujimura, all owe a conscious or unconscious debt to the work Schaeffer, Sr., did to give evangelical Christianity a respect for the arts.
Philip Yancey was the editor of Campus Life magazine, and Campus Life was how I came to Jesus, so of course I was interested in his story, Soul Survivor. Or rather, the story of the authors and thinkers who have influenced his faith most positively. From GK Chesterton to C Everett Koop, from Gandhi to Henri Nouwen, it's an eclectic bunch, and the fact that an evangelical leader can find common cause with all of them is, I think, a testimony to Francis Schaeffer's influence on Christian culture.
In college, I joined a campus ministry that defies brief description. One thing's for sure: many of the founding members came from the Plymouth Brethren movement. Thus it was with great interest that I picked up In the World but Not of It, by Brett Grainger. He confirms that it's from the Plymouth Brethren that my church inherited such distinctives as political and cultural activism, the fervent espousal of Creation Science, and the insistence on women covering their heads, at least during prayer.
Women covering their heads... by the time I had read through the Bible once, it was obvious that my newfound faith presented some particular dilemmas for a girl who grew up in a household where Ms. magazine was de riguer. So as I stood before the hot mess that is 260-279 in my local library, you bet I chose A Year of Biblical Womanhood, by Rachel Held Evans. (Did I mention I'm a sucker for stunt memoirs?) I've been curious about Evans for a while now, and anybody who's going to go mano a mano with the Proverbs 31 woman has my attention anyway.
Speaking of Biblical gender roles, various definitions of, brings me to my last selection: Quiverfull, by Kathryn Joyce. I kind of don't want to write about this book, because, gentle reader, if you are unaware of this extreme interpretation of traditional gender roles and family structure, it is unlikely that learning about it is going to make you happier. Apparently some celebrity family called Duggar may exemplify some of its elements, but I wouldn't know. What I do know is that actual people I actually was friends with in my homeschooling days actually completely believed every single thing that's described in the links. It's obvious how some of these beliefs are damaging to women; may I just say that they are also surprisingly damaging to men, at least to those who were not endowed by their creator with exceptionally bossy tendencies, and are therefore made to feel inadequate in communities where this teaching prevails.
By now I've visited, attended, belonged to, or known an evangelist for a variety of churches. I have attended a Latin mass and seen Pope Francis. I have clapped with the happy and stood up, sat down and kneeled on cue with the "frozen chosen." I have met in homes, elementary school auditoriums, buildings with tin roofs, and cathedrals complete with stained glass and statues. I have sat on folding chairs, pews and sofas. And often have I had reason to wonder what a nonbeliever would make of the experience I am having. Jim Henderson did not just wonder. He hired his atheist friend Matt Casper to come with him to twelve of the most well-known churches in the country and report his honest opinions, and then they wrote a dual stunt memoir: Jim and Casper Go to Church. This book promises to be wildly biased, highly entertaining, and as insightful as any conversation with someone who you really respect and with whom you almost completely disagree. Can't wait!
And that's my book haul from 260-279. Now, if you'll excuse me, I better get reading!
Saturday, March 19, 2016
Extra Credit: I Was Blind (Dating), But Now I See, by Stephanie Rische (248.8432)
How could I say "no" to this stunt memoir that was so temptingly close to the section I was actually looking for? I Was (Blind) Dating, But Now I See actually does a lot more than catalogue eight bad dates, because, after all, what's to say about one disastrous hour? Stephanie actually invites us into about 10 years of her life, as she marries off all her friends and relations and starts annoying God about her own single status. In our society, it's hard to be unattached, and in the Church, it might be even harder (even though, as All the Single Ladies, the very popular new study by Rebecca Traister tells us, it's increasingly common). But, really, Stephanie's story could be for anyone who's waiting... and isn't that most of us?
My first clue that I didn't have to be a 30-something single girl to relate to this book came on page 24, when Rische referenced Simeon, who was "eagerly waiting for the Messiah." He had been waiting all his long life... and his people had been waiting for hundreds of years before him... but he was still eagerly waiting for something he knew God wanted to do. Oh, I have a list of things I'm waiting for!
In my opinion, there are two kinds of waiting. There's the kind Simeon was doing. He was sure he would see the Messiah before he died, because he had received a specific promise to that effect, so his waiting was an exercise in faith and patience. Abraham could have waited patiently for Isaac to be born. Daniel could wait and pray for the Babylonian captivity to be ended. But the other kind of waiting, the kind Rische is talking about, also has an element of suspense in it. It's like being an older kid waiting for Christmas-- you know what you asked for, you know what you want, but you also know, from previous experience, that it might not turn out the way you are hoping, so you careen between wild expectation and trying to protect yourself from disappointment.
That's where Rische brings in the parable of the persistent widow --the obnoxious prayer of the believer who just won't take a hint. But at one point she asks, "How long do you have to be annoying before you realize you're just banging your head against concrete?"
What I have found is that annoying prayers may or may not "get results." But when I am having that conversation-- or some days, that argument, or that one-sided harangue-- with God, when I am engaged with the Most High, eventually it's not about getting what I want any more. It's about starting to see the situation in a new way that might be closer to God's way. I have prayed and I have fasted and I have been as daring as the woman-- the woman!-- who couldn't stop bleeding and who pushed her way through the crowd just to touch Jesus, but I haven't always gotten what I was asking for. But I have always, always, gotten what I needed-- peace with the outcome, and strength for the journey.
So I Was Blind Dating turned out not to be so much of a stunt memoir and more of just a story about someone else's life that was different from mine, only not, actually. I guess by now Rische has discovered that marriage doesn't end your waiting. We will always be annoying God about something. We will always be ping-ponging between hope and expectation management. But knowing others go through the same things makes it a little easier.
My first clue that I didn't have to be a 30-something single girl to relate to this book came on page 24, when Rische referenced Simeon, who was "eagerly waiting for the Messiah." He had been waiting all his long life... and his people had been waiting for hundreds of years before him... but he was still eagerly waiting for something he knew God wanted to do. Oh, I have a list of things I'm waiting for!
In my opinion, there are two kinds of waiting. There's the kind Simeon was doing. He was sure he would see the Messiah before he died, because he had received a specific promise to that effect, so his waiting was an exercise in faith and patience. Abraham could have waited patiently for Isaac to be born. Daniel could wait and pray for the Babylonian captivity to be ended. But the other kind of waiting, the kind Rische is talking about, also has an element of suspense in it. It's like being an older kid waiting for Christmas-- you know what you asked for, you know what you want, but you also know, from previous experience, that it might not turn out the way you are hoping, so you careen between wild expectation and trying to protect yourself from disappointment.
That's where Rische brings in the parable of the persistent widow --the obnoxious prayer of the believer who just won't take a hint. But at one point she asks, "How long do you have to be annoying before you realize you're just banging your head against concrete?"
What I have found is that annoying prayers may or may not "get results." But when I am having that conversation-- or some days, that argument, or that one-sided harangue-- with God, when I am engaged with the Most High, eventually it's not about getting what I want any more. It's about starting to see the situation in a new way that might be closer to God's way. I have prayed and I have fasted and I have been as daring as the woman-- the woman!-- who couldn't stop bleeding and who pushed her way through the crowd just to touch Jesus, but I haven't always gotten what I was asking for. But I have always, always, gotten what I needed-- peace with the outcome, and strength for the journey.
So I Was Blind Dating turned out not to be so much of a stunt memoir and more of just a story about someone else's life that was different from mine, only not, actually. I guess by now Rische has discovered that marriage doesn't end your waiting. We will always be annoying God about something. We will always be ping-ponging between hope and expectation management. But knowing others go through the same things makes it a little easier.
Friday, February 26, 2016
Eldercare as Pastoral Work: Caring for Mother by Virginia Stem Owens
Caring for Mother by Virginia Stem Owens was my obvious choice for this Dewey decade. Caregiving is that form of pastoral work defined as "true religion" by James, and Paul says the absence of caregiving is the mark of someone who has, for all practical purposes, denied the faith. It also happens to be a rather all-consuming ministry, whether one is caring for a small child or an aging parent.
My mother is 74 years old. She can barely stand, and walking is out of the question. She has open wounds on her toes that are still not healed after more than a year of almost weekly visits to the podiatrist. She was in the hospital four times last year and moved from an "independent living" senior apartment to a "personal care home." So far 2016 has been quiet, but every time the phone rings I wonder if it's going to be inviting me back on the merry-go-round. I am in counseling and on anti-depressants, but I'm doing better than some people I know, who have lost the battle and altogether given up to depression, or disappeared completely into the demands of caregiving and lost their jobs, their friends and pretty much their identities. It's hard to believe there isn't a better way to walk this road, and that 21st century Western medicine isn't pretty much the worst way to die ever known to man, virtually indistinguishable from torture.
No one I talk to and no book I read dares to sugar-coat the long goodbye. We watch the most honored figures in our lives, bar none, descend slowly into dependence and, in most cases, some form of madness, and we know there is nothing we can do that can stop this from happening, and that it only ends one way. We drive, we call, we visit, we cajole, we cram up our evenings and weekends with obligatory trips to doctors and hospitals, or, on the rare week off, with outings to the movies or a museum so that our poor impatient patient will remember why life is worth living in the first place, and when the day or the week or the journey is done, "what never goes away, doesn't wear out or disappear, is the feeling-- no, the certain knowledge-- that I could have done more, could have done better" (p. 93). And this from Owens, who hung out at the nursing home for hours every day. I have friends who quit their jobs and moved in with their moms to keep them out of nursing homes. Listen, I just get together with my mom once or twice a week and problem-solve as needed, but I still feel both that I am taxed beyond my capacities and that I could do more, could do better.
All the reviewers agree that the most poignant and meaningful chapter of the book was "Thanksgiving at Fairacres." Owens' mother's nursing home sounds no worse than any other and better than some, so her description of it rings true to every caregiver. From the preschool-teacher-esque forced cheer at holiday events to the ring of wheelchairs around the nurse's station (they call it the concierge desk at my mom's place, but they're not fooling me) to the fact that almost every single person in that building is mad about something, I guess care homes are pretty much the same everywhere. And the caregiver's task is always the same: stay on the good side of the staff, because you need them more than they need you, but never give up and never surrender when it's your parent's health and happiness on the line.
There are weeks I have a vision of my responsibilities to my mother as a high calling. And there are weeks that I know for a fact I am doing a crap job of coming alongside at a time that, while it may not be a blast for me, is certainly her darkest hour. But I sure appreciate authors who have been able to share their stories of similar journeys. When I see their little ships in the distance through the fog, I know I am not alone.
My mother is 74 years old. She can barely stand, and walking is out of the question. She has open wounds on her toes that are still not healed after more than a year of almost weekly visits to the podiatrist. She was in the hospital four times last year and moved from an "independent living" senior apartment to a "personal care home." So far 2016 has been quiet, but every time the phone rings I wonder if it's going to be inviting me back on the merry-go-round. I am in counseling and on anti-depressants, but I'm doing better than some people I know, who have lost the battle and altogether given up to depression, or disappeared completely into the demands of caregiving and lost their jobs, their friends and pretty much their identities. It's hard to believe there isn't a better way to walk this road, and that 21st century Western medicine isn't pretty much the worst way to die ever known to man, virtually indistinguishable from torture.
No one I talk to and no book I read dares to sugar-coat the long goodbye. We watch the most honored figures in our lives, bar none, descend slowly into dependence and, in most cases, some form of madness, and we know there is nothing we can do that can stop this from happening, and that it only ends one way. We drive, we call, we visit, we cajole, we cram up our evenings and weekends with obligatory trips to doctors and hospitals, or, on the rare week off, with outings to the movies or a museum so that our poor impatient patient will remember why life is worth living in the first place, and when the day or the week or the journey is done, "what never goes away, doesn't wear out or disappear, is the feeling-- no, the certain knowledge-- that I could have done more, could have done better" (p. 93). And this from Owens, who hung out at the nursing home for hours every day. I have friends who quit their jobs and moved in with their moms to keep them out of nursing homes. Listen, I just get together with my mom once or twice a week and problem-solve as needed, but I still feel both that I am taxed beyond my capacities and that I could do more, could do better.
All the reviewers agree that the most poignant and meaningful chapter of the book was "Thanksgiving at Fairacres." Owens' mother's nursing home sounds no worse than any other and better than some, so her description of it rings true to every caregiver. From the preschool-teacher-esque forced cheer at holiday events to the ring of wheelchairs around the nurse's station (they call it the concierge desk at my mom's place, but they're not fooling me) to the fact that almost every single person in that building is mad about something, I guess care homes are pretty much the same everywhere. And the caregiver's task is always the same: stay on the good side of the staff, because you need them more than they need you, but never give up and never surrender when it's your parent's health and happiness on the line.
There are weeks I have a vision of my responsibilities to my mother as a high calling. And there are weeks that I know for a fact I am doing a crap job of coming alongside at a time that, while it may not be a blast for me, is certainly her darkest hour. But I sure appreciate authors who have been able to share their stories of similar journeys. When I see their little ships in the distance through the fog, I know I am not alone.
Friday, February 5, 2016
250-259: Pastors and What They Do
Dr. Tournier talked about how working people are sometimes too tired to pursue creative endeavors, and that's my situation right now in the busy season of my job, so I'm cheating on the 250s and doing my research remotely. Here's a peek at our church library's holdings in that category: mostly sermons and training for pastors and other church workers.
I have read my share of sermons, so I checked out my public library, found and ordered this instead:
Now that's something that I can relate to. A few years ago I was reading books about youth ministry; now it seems like I can't get enough of aging and death. Circle of life and all that!
I have read my share of sermons, so I checked out my public library, found and ordered this instead:
Now that's something that I can relate to. A few years ago I was reading books about youth ministry; now it seems like I can't get enough of aging and death. Circle of life and all that!Friday, January 15, 2016
Growing Old, Part II: The Importance of Acceptance (More about Growing Old)
In my last post, I mentioned that Paul Tournier alluded to the value of acceptance in enjoying old age, especially with respect to the illnesses and chronic conditions that may accompany it. Psychologists, natural health gurus, and Bible teachers all agree: The person who is continually striving for a cure, who is always trying the latest medicine, diet, or alternative treatment, is really no better situated for mental health than the person who continually rails against God and man looking for someone to blame for his or her condition.
The only people who live well with chronic illness, which is a hallmark of old age for many, are those who have accepted that pain or disability or limitations or discomfort is their new normal.
This sounds like bleak advice, but it's really quite liberating. I myself know that when I stopped chasing a "cure" for my thyroid condition and started just working with it, and when I accepted my susceptibility to depression, I was able to enjoy the life I had, rather than continually wishing for someone else's life.
I think Christians struggle more with this kind of acceptance than those of some other faiths or of no faith, because we know that there is always a possibility of miraculous healing beyond what science can provide. If Jesus appeared to us and said, as He did to the man at the pool in Bethesda, "Do you want to be made well?" of course we would answer yes. But if He instead appeared to us and said, "My strength is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness," as He did to Paul, could we accept that answer as well?
Paul Tournier, so many years ago, also advocated for acceptance in the context of old age. We must accept the limitations imposed on us by the 24-hour-day and by mortality-- only God, Tournier points out-- can say "It is finished" and sit down forever! We must accept our lives, our circumstances, our bodies and our age. Acceptance is different from resignation, and is more like consent-- we agree that what we are experiencing is acceptable. We live authentically in the reality we are experiencing rather than pretending that something different is happening-- that we are not ill or we are not old. Ideally, we will be able to focus on what we have rather than what we have lost.
Tournier believes that these habits of mind must be developed early in life. He believes that those who do not accept old age also did not accept adolescence, or young adulthood, or middle age. He believes that those who have spent their whole lives complaining about the responsibilities and limitations of their current situation and either nostalgically longing for a previous stage or looking forward to some supposedly more free future stage all their lives will be singularly ill-equipped to cope with old age-- even if, maybe especially if, it is the stage to which they were looking forward! Surely it is bound to disappoint, after all.
What a compelling point for me, surrounded as I am by high school students who constantly complain about how busy and stressed out they are, while what could be some of the most wonderful moments and opportunities of their lives pass them by.
Young mothers look forward to their children getting older... mothers of older kids look back with fondness to the simplicity of the preschool years, or look forward to their kids leaving. In middle age, perhaps we are still caregiving, or maybe the expectations of our jobs and community activities have become pressing, so we look to retirement for a relief of our pressures.
But why would these habits of discontent change when we turn 66? If we hope to enjoy our retirement, we must accept first that every age has its challenges and its rewards, and then seek to develop habits of contentment now, wherever we are, engaging with the world and with our lives as they are. Such habits of mind will empower us to live well during every age and stage.
The only people who live well with chronic illness, which is a hallmark of old age for many, are those who have accepted that pain or disability or limitations or discomfort is their new normal.
This sounds like bleak advice, but it's really quite liberating. I myself know that when I stopped chasing a "cure" for my thyroid condition and started just working with it, and when I accepted my susceptibility to depression, I was able to enjoy the life I had, rather than continually wishing for someone else's life.
I think Christians struggle more with this kind of acceptance than those of some other faiths or of no faith, because we know that there is always a possibility of miraculous healing beyond what science can provide. If Jesus appeared to us and said, as He did to the man at the pool in Bethesda, "Do you want to be made well?" of course we would answer yes. But if He instead appeared to us and said, "My strength is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness," as He did to Paul, could we accept that answer as well?
Paul Tournier, so many years ago, also advocated for acceptance in the context of old age. We must accept the limitations imposed on us by the 24-hour-day and by mortality-- only God, Tournier points out-- can say "It is finished" and sit down forever! We must accept our lives, our circumstances, our bodies and our age. Acceptance is different from resignation, and is more like consent-- we agree that what we are experiencing is acceptable. We live authentically in the reality we are experiencing rather than pretending that something different is happening-- that we are not ill or we are not old. Ideally, we will be able to focus on what we have rather than what we have lost.
Tournier believes that these habits of mind must be developed early in life. He believes that those who do not accept old age also did not accept adolescence, or young adulthood, or middle age. He believes that those who have spent their whole lives complaining about the responsibilities and limitations of their current situation and either nostalgically longing for a previous stage or looking forward to some supposedly more free future stage all their lives will be singularly ill-equipped to cope with old age-- even if, maybe especially if, it is the stage to which they were looking forward! Surely it is bound to disappoint, after all.
What a compelling point for me, surrounded as I am by high school students who constantly complain about how busy and stressed out they are, while what could be some of the most wonderful moments and opportunities of their lives pass them by.
Young mothers look forward to their children getting older... mothers of older kids look back with fondness to the simplicity of the preschool years, or look forward to their kids leaving. In middle age, perhaps we are still caregiving, or maybe the expectations of our jobs and community activities have become pressing, so we look to retirement for a relief of our pressures.
But why would these habits of discontent change when we turn 66? If we hope to enjoy our retirement, we must accept first that every age has its challenges and its rewards, and then seek to develop habits of contentment now, wherever we are, engaging with the world and with our lives as they are. Such habits of mind will empower us to live well during every age and stage.
Friday, December 18, 2015
Growing Old, Part I: The Golden Years and Why They're Not Always (Growing Old by Paul Tournier)
In Learn to Grow Old, Dr. Paul Tournier first diagnoses, then prescribes, treatment for the ills of the retired person in society. Although he is speaking about Swiss society of the late 60s and early 70s, I find a comment on almost every page that applies to me and my peers or to my parents and theirs. The central thesis of the first half of the book seems to be that if retirement is to be successful, preparation, not financial but mental and logistical, must begin well in advance.
I think I can't wait to not have to work, because I am exhausted, but I know that the contact with young people, the mental challenge, and the structure to my week are valuable to my mental health. I have seen some people just shrivel up in retirement, especially if it was a forced, "golden parachute" situation. But there are so many interesting and important things to do besides work-- how can I be bored in retirement??
Tournier feels that when we are at the height of our earning powers, the time we have left at the end of the day often cannot include great challenges. Most people can't write a novel or paint beautifully in the 2 hours they have in the evening after work-- although I know some who do!
But the majority of working age people find their evenings and weekends consumed with caregiving, community service and the simple tasks of daily life, and count themselves lucky if they can get the chance to putt a few holes or stitch a bit on a needlework project over the weekend. Such people-- and I am sometimes one-- imagine retirement as a sort of earthly heaven consisting only of these hobbies and leisure activities that we can't get enough of now. But those same people find, when the day comes, that knitting, TV and golf are really not enough to hold their attention.
Tournier says we must instead imagine retirement as an opportunity to pursue employment of our time, our hands, and our minds that will actually challenge our capacities. He reminds me of Viktor Frankl, who taught that the wellspring of mental health was a sense of meaning. Just so, an older person needs a purpose, and leisure activities and hobbies may not be enough to satisfy this need. That is why preparation for retirement must begin well in advance, as we identify and begin to dip into the gifts, the passions and even the neglected skills we will be able to pursue when we have less structured days.
As Tournier says, "A second career is like a plant whose seed has been sown in the midst of a person's active life, which has taken root, which has developed tentatively at first, but which bears all its fruit in retirement." (p. 125)
Tournier does recognize that there are both societal and individual obstacles to living meaningfully during retirement. No amount of personal planning can overcome the prejudice against old people that was certainly present in the 70s and has by no means improved since then. We look down on those activities of our own that are not visibly productive, so we look down on those who are no longer able to be visibly productive at all.
We are consumed by technology, so we leave behind those who can't keep up. In family gatherings, we speak over our older members about swiftly-moving pop-culture topics, and don't give them time to contribute what might be valuable perspectives. We marginalize old people as we used to marginalize young people, as being messy, unattractive and uninteresting. We regulate retirement so that it must occur at a certain age and all at once, rather than through gradual reduction of the workload as each person is able.
With such marginalization and lack of recognition of the individual, how is a retired person to find meaning?
In addition to these discriminatory public attitudes, there are the many circumstances that conspire to prevent many older people from moving forward. As any of us discover if we are out of work for a stretch of time, or try to take a "stay-cation," there seem to be an infinite number of small tasks that instantly expand to fill our day, so all our well-laid plans for self-improvement, community service, learning and creating go by the wayside.
Some have been forced to retire before they could really afford it, while others are forced to keep working to the detriment of their health. Many really don't have the extra money that makes them both respected in the marketplace and independent with respect to their families. They may not be able to afford the tools or tuitions for the projects that would provide their free time with meaning.
Older people may become increasingly isolated-- especially if they are required to move to a facility. There, it is very difficult for all but the most socially gifted people to form true friendships, since people who have nothing in common except their age are just stuck in a room together. In real life, as opposed to in a movie, the other inmates of a care facility are not Judy Dench and Dame Maggie Smith-- they may have very different interests from oneself, and they are all, by virtue of their presence in such a place, more or less in medical crisis, which makes it difficult to reach out.
When one can't drive, one is completely dependent on the schedules and convenience of others to have a social life. Tournier talks about the villa he and his wife chose for retirement, walkable to town and family, but most parts of the US are not walkable, most families do not all live in the same town, and even so, excellent health is required to be able to enjoy this non-driving lifestyle.
Yes, it seems to me that health, or lack thereof, is a major determiner of how well one can enjoy retirement. I might plan all kinds of philanthropic and creative pursuits for my golden years, but if I become too ill to carry them out, will I have the mental flexibility to think of something I can do, like Tournier's friends who can paint, if not walk, or watch the winds, if nothing else?
Tournier is a strong advocate of accepting one's limitations and determining to work within them. He says, and I agree, "those who are most in rebellion against their misfortunes put up less of a fight to overcome them than those who accept them." I hope that if I become too disabled to do anything else, I will be able to find peace and purpose in prayer... but I can't promise anything.
I think I can't wait to not have to work, because I am exhausted, but I know that the contact with young people, the mental challenge, and the structure to my week are valuable to my mental health. I have seen some people just shrivel up in retirement, especially if it was a forced, "golden parachute" situation. But there are so many interesting and important things to do besides work-- how can I be bored in retirement??
Tournier feels that when we are at the height of our earning powers, the time we have left at the end of the day often cannot include great challenges. Most people can't write a novel or paint beautifully in the 2 hours they have in the evening after work-- although I know some who do!
But the majority of working age people find their evenings and weekends consumed with caregiving, community service and the simple tasks of daily life, and count themselves lucky if they can get the chance to putt a few holes or stitch a bit on a needlework project over the weekend. Such people-- and I am sometimes one-- imagine retirement as a sort of earthly heaven consisting only of these hobbies and leisure activities that we can't get enough of now. But those same people find, when the day comes, that knitting, TV and golf are really not enough to hold their attention.
Tournier says we must instead imagine retirement as an opportunity to pursue employment of our time, our hands, and our minds that will actually challenge our capacities. He reminds me of Viktor Frankl, who taught that the wellspring of mental health was a sense of meaning. Just so, an older person needs a purpose, and leisure activities and hobbies may not be enough to satisfy this need. That is why preparation for retirement must begin well in advance, as we identify and begin to dip into the gifts, the passions and even the neglected skills we will be able to pursue when we have less structured days.
As Tournier says, "A second career is like a plant whose seed has been sown in the midst of a person's active life, which has taken root, which has developed tentatively at first, but which bears all its fruit in retirement." (p. 125)
Tournier does recognize that there are both societal and individual obstacles to living meaningfully during retirement. No amount of personal planning can overcome the prejudice against old people that was certainly present in the 70s and has by no means improved since then. We look down on those activities of our own that are not visibly productive, so we look down on those who are no longer able to be visibly productive at all.
We are consumed by technology, so we leave behind those who can't keep up. In family gatherings, we speak over our older members about swiftly-moving pop-culture topics, and don't give them time to contribute what might be valuable perspectives. We marginalize old people as we used to marginalize young people, as being messy, unattractive and uninteresting. We regulate retirement so that it must occur at a certain age and all at once, rather than through gradual reduction of the workload as each person is able.
With such marginalization and lack of recognition of the individual, how is a retired person to find meaning?
In addition to these discriminatory public attitudes, there are the many circumstances that conspire to prevent many older people from moving forward. As any of us discover if we are out of work for a stretch of time, or try to take a "stay-cation," there seem to be an infinite number of small tasks that instantly expand to fill our day, so all our well-laid plans for self-improvement, community service, learning and creating go by the wayside.
Some have been forced to retire before they could really afford it, while others are forced to keep working to the detriment of their health. Many really don't have the extra money that makes them both respected in the marketplace and independent with respect to their families. They may not be able to afford the tools or tuitions for the projects that would provide their free time with meaning.
Older people may become increasingly isolated-- especially if they are required to move to a facility. There, it is very difficult for all but the most socially gifted people to form true friendships, since people who have nothing in common except their age are just stuck in a room together. In real life, as opposed to in a movie, the other inmates of a care facility are not Judy Dench and Dame Maggie Smith-- they may have very different interests from oneself, and they are all, by virtue of their presence in such a place, more or less in medical crisis, which makes it difficult to reach out.
When one can't drive, one is completely dependent on the schedules and convenience of others to have a social life. Tournier talks about the villa he and his wife chose for retirement, walkable to town and family, but most parts of the US are not walkable, most families do not all live in the same town, and even so, excellent health is required to be able to enjoy this non-driving lifestyle.
Yes, it seems to me that health, or lack thereof, is a major determiner of how well one can enjoy retirement. I might plan all kinds of philanthropic and creative pursuits for my golden years, but if I become too ill to carry them out, will I have the mental flexibility to think of something I can do, like Tournier's friends who can paint, if not walk, or watch the winds, if nothing else?
Tournier is a strong advocate of accepting one's limitations and determining to work within them. He says, and I agree, "those who are most in rebellion against their misfortunes put up less of a fight to overcome them than those who accept them." I hope that if I become too disabled to do anything else, I will be able to find peace and purpose in prayer... but I can't promise anything.
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