First Parish Unitarian UniversalistThe Privilege of Parenting
A sermon preached by the Reverend Diane Teichert
First Parish Unitarian Universalist - Canton, MA
May 12, 2002-Mother's Day
Seems to me, Mother's Day is a preacher's problem. Though everyone here today necessarily was born of a woman and so must have had a mother at least biologically speaking (though it won't always be so), some of us may not have known her, or weren't raised by her nor by anyone else in that role. A descriptive Mother's Day sermon likely will not offer such a person much, and perhaps unpleasantly remind them of their loss.
And among those in the pews who did or do know their mothers, there is a wide range of feelings about her-from heartfelt appreciation to virulent anger and everything in between. It is a challenge to speak meaningfully to those whose feelings are at one extreme and also to those at the other.
Most of us, though, probably are aware of a mix of feelings about the mothering we experienced, and so this Mother's Day sermon is likely to touch on one or two of those feelings somehow and at least therefore remind you of something about which you are glad to be reminded. If luck or the spirit or my muse is with me, perhaps it may even move you toward greater understanding of your mother, even heartfelt appreciation.
But, for some of us, there are also feelings that have long been submerged or consciously avoided which lay like landmines under the surface-- the words of the sermon being like unsuspecting footfalls, touching off explosions for which no preacher would want to bear even innocent responsibility!
Furthermore, a prescriptive sermon on mothering will necessary leave out every woman who is not a mother, reminding those who wish they were of their disappointment, and not exactly speak to any of the men in the pews, either-fathers or not.
Plus, those who are fathers may spend these twenty minutes feeling guilty about the fact that they forgot all about Mother's Day until yesterday, or last night at 10, or even this morning. To them I say, spend the time you would have spent buying a card or a gift giving your love in other ways.
Additionally, even putting all of these Mothers Day difficulties aside, I feel-and I don't know if other preachers feel this or not-but I feel that anything I might say about having-or being-a mother is so bound up in my own personal experience that it's difficult to get enough distance from it, enough perspective, to offer anything that will not be either offensive or annoying to some of you, or embarrassing to me or my family!
Too, the context in which any of us was raised (and in which parents today raise their kids) is so influential that speaking from my context-economic status, ethnic group, parental emotional stability, type of community, proximity of other caring adults, etc.-may not reach you in yours at all.
Finally, here at First Parish we have another problem, which is that our practice is to end our worship year on Fathers Day. This means that we are too busy hearing what the children did in their Religious Education classes spring semester and thanking their teachers, too busy dedicating children, too busy celebrating Flower Communion, too busy saying "See you in September" to offer much more than a quick nod to our fathers and the fathers amongst us. So, to spend Mothers Day on mothers or mothering seems to be, and is, unequal treatment.
Considering all of these reasons why Mothers Day is a preacher's problem, I want to dwell today on parenting rather than mothering. And, I want to explore certain aspects of parenting as they may pertain not only to those of us who are parents raising children but also to adults who are, or desire to be, involved with children who are not their own.
This latter involvement with children by caring adults who are not their parents, but who share their parents' values, is SO important. Perhaps it has always been so, but certainly in these times and in this culture, it is so needed. Though neighbors may offer it, here in a religious community, we are ideally situated to do so very naturally, without much special organization or even that much effort.
I've probably said this before from the pulpit, but it bears mentioning again. One of my clearest memories from the first Sunday as your minister is a memory of one of the adults, who may have arrived early to help me feel at home, but who was obviously also feeling enthusiastic about seeing everyone after the summer's hiatus. The way she totally joyfully greeted the children as they arrived, with mutual hugs and lots of questions from her to them (how was your summer?) and exclamations (my, you look bigger!) and just such carrying on. it made me feel great to know that children were important in my new congregation!
We might initially think that this is chiefly for the benefit of the children, but a moment's reflection suggests, of course, that it isn't.
One of our members, Judith (who is away visiting her in-laws for Mothers Day), gave me permission to tell a story that illustrates this beautifully. She lives in the Ponkapoag section of Canton, which she tells me is a close, neighborly kind of neighborhood in which people, especially dog walkers, get to know their neighbors, especially the children. One boy in particular, a sixth grader, no matter how engrossed he was in play with other children or work with his father, whenever he saw Judith with her dog Daisy, he would run headlong to greet them and hug Daisy.
Just a couple weeks ago, as some of you may have heard from Judith, Daisy died unexpectedly. Not wanting this boy to learn the sad news via the grapevine, Judith called the boy's mother so she could tell him. That evening, the boy came to Judith's door. He was paying his condolences, like an adult would. He told her how sorry he was that Daisy died and said, "Daisy was such a great dog." Then he shared how his class had just finished reading "The Big Wave" by Pearl Buck, and that the lesson he learned about grief from the boy who lost his parents in a tsunami in the story was that in order to remember the good things about someone you've lost, "you have to get all your grieving out first."
Whether it's through teaching in the RE program, working with the youth group, inviting a First Parish family to your house or to join you on an outing, or just taking the time during coffee hour to get to know a particular young person, you-caring adults who share their parents' values- can contribute meaningfully to the parenting done by their parents. You can have the kind of relationship in which a sixth grader will comfort you in your losses.
You in fact promise this level of caring during our Child Dedication ceremony that is not a baptism or christening, but is rather a dedication of the parents and the congregation to the raising up of the children in our community. On those occasions (which may occur again on June 9th or 16th if any family is so interested), I read the following words,
By bringing their children forward to be dedicated here today, these parents are asking us to support them in nurturing these children. Do you dedicate yourselves anew to taking the time to know and care for them, to teaching them and learning from them, and to leading them in serving love and justice in our world? If you do, "we do,"
Here at First Parish, in the Child Dedication ceremony and in our actions, we make explicit our common commitment to raising the children in our midst. Implicit in that common commitment is trust. Every adult, parent and non-parent, is entrusted with the well-being of the children here, with their spiritual, moral, emotional, intellectual, and physical development. That is a sacred trust.
Recent months' coverage of the priest sex abuse scandal in the Roman Catholic Church alerts me to think that it is not sufficient that our trust is implicit. We can do better. We can make it explicit. How might we do that?
What do you think? How could this religious community articulate its values and expectations around adult interactions with children? They may seem obvious, and I don't have any reason to think that anyone is not honoring them, but on the other hand, it could only help us to articulate our values, even celebrate them. We might then also consider guidelines such as having more than one adult present with children and youth, and possibly pledges to be signed by teachers that uphold the values we articulate. These are a few examples of ways to be more explicit about trust.
In essence, they are ways of getting more specific about what our First Principle means in regard to children. What does it mean "to affirm and promote the inherent worth and dignity of, in particular, our children?"
The scandal in the Roman Catholic Church also alerts me to ask myself, and you, do our children know-deep down-that the First Principle applies first of all to them? Does each know that his or her own inherent worth and dignity is such that it's not okay for anyone, not even someone they love, to sexually abuse them? Are we teaching-and more importantly modeling-the words to use to stop unwanted behaviors, the words to use to get help?
I can answer "yes" in one respect. The sexuality education program we provide to our middle school youth, the new version of which is called OWL short for "Our Whole Lives" (the earlier version was called AYS, About Your Sexuality)-is strong in its coverage of these areas.
But, I'm not clear on what, if anything, we are doing with our younger children, nor do I know whether the parents in the congregation want help in this area.
This is an area in which I am not satisfied with the parenting in our household. Acknowledging that more is known about child abuse now than in any of our parents' generations and even more now than 19 years ago when my oldest child was born, still I wish that we had done more than read the books on "good and bad touch" with our children.
I wish we had been more clear that a key purpose of parenting, besides loving them, is for children to know and be who they really truly are not who we, or any one, or the culture expects them to be. For it is that self-knowledge that gives them (or any of us!) the inner resources to know when we are uncomfortable, to say no and mean it, and to get help when we need it. Had we been clearer about these things, we could have talked more openly with them and better modeled for them interventions when interactions occurred with others that were uncomfortable, demeaning, gender-stereotyped or otherwise limiting of their potential, setting a good example that would serve them well if they encountered worse.
Fortunately, it helped that they were raised UU's. I do believe that my children's experience growing up in a Unitarian Universalist congregation filled in some of the gaps left by their parents. As little ones, singing "This Little Light of Mine," learning the "love ourselves" part as well as the "loving others" part of Jesus' teaching, and experiencing their chalice-lit RE classes as safe places must have helped.
On the other hand, some of the parenting we did well was confirmed and supported by our experience as a UU family. I want to mention a few of the ways we benefited, in hopes that they may be useful to you who are involved with young children, your own or in your extended family, the congregation, or the neighborhood.
Though people say that UU worship is lacking in ritual, after our family had been attending for a while, we took some of the ritual home with us. We parents had always felt regular rhythms in the children's daily lives were important. We insisted on regular naps and created bedtime routines, we ate our meals around the table not in front of the television and when you were excused it meant you were done eating, and we tried though often failed to actually be present to the children when we were with them.
Anyway, we eventually borrowed from UU worship several elements of what we called our "Friday Night Supper." This was the one dinner of the week for which no one, not even a workaholic parent, was allowed to be late, and unlike other nights, there was a tablecloth, favorite foods and always dessert. On Friday Nights, we lit the candelabra from Grandma Milton, sang a song we learned at church (nearly exactly the same as our Morning Song here except some of the words are in a different order, which is why sometimes I sing the wrong words on Sunday morning!), and each said something for which we were thankful from the week. Friday Night Suppers changed a bit over the years and did not survive the adolescent years intact, but a vestige survived and I'm grateful for that, and grateful to Unitarian Universalism for giving us a way to get a handle on our crazy lives and make some meaning of them for ourselves.
Another aspect of our parenting that was confirmed and supported by our experience as a UU family was in regard to television and other aspects of the popular media. I already mentioned that we don't eat with the TV on. We didn't even have one worth watching until our youngest was five, at which point we felt our values about gender, sexuality, violence and material possessions had sunk in deep enough to stand up against the onslaught on TV. This meant the older child was eight, somewhat late, and I remember feeling badly about the ways in which she was a little "out of it" in regard to her peers. But, we felt the time she had spent reading, drawing, coloring, doing all sorts of little projects, and all-round playing had been time well-spent. We were all happy to buy that color TV! Surprisingly perhaps, watching too much of it didn't become a huge issue in our household. In our UU congregation, we were glad to find many other families who shared our concerns about television, even a few who had no TV at all.
I know that not every UU wants a Sabbath ritual or a critique of popular culture, and I admit that there have been downsides to even our best intentions. Our daughter, for example, laughs that among her friends at college she is the one who has surely never seen whatever movie is being considered for rental, but there must have been times in previous years when she would rather not have been different.
Parents are never perfect. May the few gaps in your parenting be filled here, by caring adults who share your values, and may your best intentions be supported and confirmed here, too. May each of us be ever reminded that the commitment we make to the nurturing of the children in our midst rests on a sacred trust. A sacred trust. May it never be violated. May it ever be honored.
Amen.