Friday, February 10, 2012

Raising Cain

For whatever reason, I was up at about 3:00 a.m. on January 13, 2006, and since I had left the TV on PBS, an interesting program was airing at that hour: Raising Cain, about the ways boys develop into men and about the challenges and rewards of raising boys to manhood.

I think all parents, educators, and church leaders should watch this program. We have misunderstood, neglected, and ignored boys and men for too long.

The emotional "divide" between men and women does not arise from women's having emotions and men's having none. That's a myth and is erroneous. {And I just heard all the male readers yell, "Duh!!"} Men feel just as strongly as women do; but men communicate, express, and channel their emotions differently than women do. Societal pressures direct men to stifle their emotions, cover them up with bravado, or transfer them to anger. Because we have long sent the message that men are not allowed to express—let alone feel—the emotions traditionally labeled as "feminine," we taught have our young men and boys that lashing out is OK.

An interesting aspect of boys' development that is tackled by the documentary is how boys' imaginative play differs from girls'. And that difference can be startling and frustrating to parents and teachers. Michael Thompson, Ph.D., host of the documentary and co-author of the book Raising Cain: Protecting the Emotional Lives of Boys, speaks to the concern that adults often have about what they observe in boys—a fascination with violence. He says that it's a valid concern "because no one wants their son to grow up to be violent. But interpreting play as an early indicator of violence is a misunderstanding both of the nature of boy activity and the real journey to violence that some boys undergo." So we can relax, at least a little, when our boys are playing war games, cops & robbers, and superheroes.

The PBS Parents Guide for this program included this interesting explanation:
Fantasy play is not aggressive. A common boy fantasy about killing bad guys and saving the world is just as normal as a common girl fantasy about tucking in animals and putting them to bed. "Most boys will pick up a pretzel and pretend to shoot with it," comments teacher Jane Katch. "If a boy is playing a game about superheroes, you might see it as violent. But the way he sees it, he's making the world safe from the bad guys. This is normal and doesn't indicate that anything is wrong unless he repeatedly hurts or tries to dominate the friends he plays with. And sometimes an act that feels aggressive to one child was actually intended to be a playful action by the child who did it. When this happens in my class, we talk about it, so one child can understand that another child's experience may be different than his own. This is the way empathy develops."

Not too long before I watched the show (almost five years ago), I myself had experienced this kind of situation. At church, after concluding an activity with the 4th-through-6th-grade kids in my class, which included art materials, some of the boys continued making things with the paper and tape. One boy wanted me to help him refine his object—help him make the tube thinner and add a cone at the end. I didn't put it together that he wanted to make it a spear, until the final product took shape. I feel a little twinge in my stomach. Was I being an irresponsible Bible study teacher? Was I promoting or condoning violent behavior? Was I contributing to some coming misbehavior? What would my fellow teacher think?

The other boy had made a machete, and actually, I was impressed by the way he kept working on the details of his object, to make it look more and more authentic. He lopped off a few corners to give it more of that "machete" look.

My fellow teacher and I took the kids out in the hall, to continue waiting for parents to pick them up. The two boys commenced a play fight. I felt as if I should be offended or scandalized or something. Was my co-teacher expecting me to tell them to stop? I didn't tell the boys to stop. I monitored them, for the words they were using, for their attitudes, and for anything that might be disrespectful to the fact that we were in God's house. They were just pretending, having fun. I couldn't tell if they were enjoying being the evil guy or being the hero. I don't even remember what movie or TV show or comic strip they were mimicking.

You know, I missed an opportunity to praise those boys. Yes! Praise them! Think about it—how many kids today will take ordinary materials and make something out of them? How many kids exercise their imaginations to much of an extent? True, they didn't come up with their own characters and storyline—they borrowed from what they knew. But the point is that they were expressing themselves both physically and artistically. And there was emotional expression there too, if I had only talked with them about what they liked about pretending to be these fantasy fighters.

I also missed an opportunity to point them back to the Scriptures. Who in the Bible used a spear? David. What is the Bible called in Ephesians? A sword. See? We don't have to be squeamish about the things of fighting and war.

In his book Wild at Heart, John Eldredge points out that the big Question {Eldredge capitalizes the word—can you feel the resonance and the looming significance of a question that your entire being was made to ask?} of the male being is "Do I have what it takes?" And Eldredge explains that men are looking for a challenge to face, an enemy to conquer, and an adventure to pursue. (And there is also the damsel to rescue. *grin*) It's all related to the physical, to competition, to action and achievement.

And good thing too... Because if only women existed in the world (and we could reproduce asexually...or something), we'd have this big drum circle and sing-along, but not too much would get done. Unless you count faboo shoes and terrific jams and jellies and such. OK, just kidding. (I know, I know: gender stereotyping, Elena.)

I believe that boys and men are hard-wired to be this way—to battle, to compete, to seek to win, to vanquish—to varying degrees, of course, and with different manifestations of this. And that we teachers do our male students a disservice when we assume that every action a boy makes is meant to hurt another. We need to seek to understand the kids we teach, whether they be boys or girls.

And as teachers, we can help both boys and girls channel their thoughts and energies into constructive, helpful directions. This takes time. Not just time inculcating whatever content it is we have to impart... but also time getting to know the child, understanding what makes him tick, allowing her to ask questions, and asking the child follow-up/clarifying questions. And listening. A lot of listening.

As I am back into the swing of another semester of Bible Drill, I am challenging myself as a teacher to be more fully "present in the present" when I am teaching... especially these preteens who are in such a key transitional time of their lives.

I'll let you know how the adventure goes!

Wednesday, August 03, 2011

The Deeper Magic

Sometimes it's really interesting/odd/funny/weird/thrilling how threads of themes interweave themselves in a person's life in the same week... or the same day. So... speaking of that thrill... If you are a writer, maybe you know about what one of my favorite authors, Lucy Maud (or L. M.) Montgomery, calls 'the flash.' What is it? Well, in her book Emily of New Moon, Montgomery describes 'the flash' thusly, by depicting her young heroine's experience:
Emily called it that, although she felt that the name didn't exactly describe it. It couldn't be described—not even to Father, who always seemed a little puzzled by it. Emily never spoke of it to anyone else.

It had always seemed to Emily, ever since she could remember, that she was very, very near to a world of wonderful beauty. Between it and herself hung only a thin curtain; she could never draw the curtain aside—but sometimes, just for a moment, a wind fluttered it and then it was as if she caught a glimpse of the enchanting realm beyond—only a glimpse—and heard a note of unearthly music.

This moment came rarely—went swiftly, leaving her breathless with the inexpressible delight of it. She could never recall it—never summon it—never pretend it; but the wonder of it stayed with her for days. It never came twice with the same thing. Tonight the dark boughs against that far-off sky had given it. It had come with a high, wild note of wind in the night; with a shadow wave over a ripe field; with a greybird lighting on her windowsill in a storm; with the singing of "Holy, holy, holy" in church; with a glimpse of the kitchen fire when she had come home on a dark autumn night; with the spirit-like blue of ice palms on a twilit pane; with a felicitous new word when she was writing down a description of something. And always when the flash came to her, Emily felt that life was a wonderful, mysterious thing of persistent beauty.

… She knew just how she would begin it—the sentence seemed to shape itself in her mind: "The hill called to me, and something in me called back to it."*
Emily Byrd Starr and I and any writer who has experienced this truth know that 'flash-filled' reality of living something and then reliving a bit of it as we write about it and then read what we've written. And even better is to share that bit of writing with a kindred spirit whose soul quivers at the same resonating tones of the beauty we're attempting to express and the beauty of the expression itself (even if that expression is a splintery rough draft!).

I'll risk sounding 'pagan' and call this reality 'magic.' And here's why. Two more of my favorite writers use a similar metaphor to speak into being their understanding of what feels to me to be part of the great mystery and wonder of how God made His creation (especially us, humankind) and life itself.

In a blog post titled "Fahrenheit Zero", responding to last year's on-again-off-again plan, by one pastor, to burn copies of the Koran to commemorate 9/11, Kat Coble writes:
My first reaction is my usual reaction when people talk of burning books. To me there is no greater flaunting of ignorance than the desecration of any sort of written word. Do people not realise the true magic of writing? I know it seems commonplace in this world where most people can read and write at least a basic amount. But the very idea that ideas themselves can live, charging like lightning down an undersea wire from person to person, because of marks on a contrasting surface—that, my friends, is the penultimate magic. The penultimate victory of life over death. In my mind, it is second only to the redemption of Jesus’ sacrifice.
See? It's 'the flash' again. Kat knows it. No, she doesn't merely know about it. She knows it. She lives it. She breathes it. Like Emily Starr, budding writer, Kat, growing (flowering?) writer, cannot not write. She must write. Even on the days when the physical act of writing is too painful and exacerbates the pain already there. She's still composing in her mind.

Life, writing, being, truth, beauty—I sense that for both Kat and Emily, these are all one. And how that is, is a great mystery. Not in the sense that it hides... but that it is complex. Just as trying to explain this truth (that truth?) is complex (yet as simple as tapping on letter keys on a laptop!).

Kat's comment about penultimate magic reminded me of one of my favorite scenes from C. S. Lewis's book The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, from his series The Chronicles of Narnia.

After the White Witch reminds Aslan of her right to kill any traitor in Narnia—this particular traitor being Edmund—Aslan takes Edmund's place, allows his mane to be cut and shaved and himself to be killed upon the stone table, and then lies there all night. The morning brings a surprise for Susan and Lucy: a deafening cracking sound. They rush to the stone stable, expecting they do not know what, and find that it has split down the middle. And Aslan is not there. Susan wonders aloud, "Is it more magic?"
"Yes," said a great voice behind them, "it is more magic."

They looked 'round. There, shining in the sunrise, larger than they had seen him before, shaking his mane (for it had apparently grown again) stood Aslan himself.**
Susan and Lucy are delighted, overjoyed. And they shower him with hugs and kisses. But they wonder why he is now alive.

Aslan explains:
It means that though the witch knew the deep magic, there is a magic deeper still that she did not know. Her knowledge goes back only to the dawn of time. But if she could have looked a little further back, into the stillness and darkness before time dawned, she would have read there a different incantation. She would have know that when a willing victim who had committed no treachery was killed in a traitor's stead, the table would crack, and death itself would start working backward.**
So... going back to Mr. IWannaBurnaKoran...
How can a man who is supposed to understand the real thing, the sacrifice that Aslan's is only a shadow of, not understand its true nature, its true power? And then not understand the potency (albeit, less than Jesus' sacrifice) of writing?

Or is it that he does know that writing is powerful and he fears the writings of others? Here, namely the Koran. But then... he has forgotten the power of the gospel... and the power of the One he claims to serve. And that power is greater. It is the greatest. It is still mighty to save, so we need not fear the power that writing has. But we use it. For the good.

But Kat understands. And she states:
What I will do? Buy more books. Write more books. Teach people to read. Teach people to write. Pass the word along that writing is magic for ordinary lives. …

Up to this point [in this blog post,] there were 398 words, composed of 26 letters. That’s 32 lines, 9 circles, 6 half circles, black against a white background. That’s all it is, in its most basic form. But in it are the thoughts of my brain, reacting to the thoughts of others and causing more reactions in yet more people.

Those things burn with an altogether different fire.
And my friends, when 'the flash' comes, we writers know that we've felt the heat and seen the light of that fire.

It seems no coincidence that tonight I am revisiting a draft of a blog post I began almost a year ago, dear book-friends so beloved in my girlhood, and a song that too has resonated with me as many a good writing has done. As I want to really know the reality of the 'deeper magic' and live it and know the One who created it all, He brings together these elements to serve as reassurance markers along my way of discovery, my way up that Alpine path that Emily and L. M. Montgomery climbed, the same one that Kat and I are climbing.



* Montgomery, L. M., Emily of New Moon, New York: Bantam Books, 1983. pp. 7–8. [Some punctuation changes, mine.]

** Lewis, C. S.,
The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, Michael York (performer), Audible.com, 2005.

Thursday, March 10, 2011

40-day Bible-reading Challenge: Day 2

"Zion, herald of good news,
go up on a high mountain.
Jerusalem, herald of good news,
raise your voice loudly.
Raise it, do not be afraid!
Say to the cities of Judah,
'Here is your God!'
The LORD God comes with strength,
and His power establishes His rule.
His reward is with Him,
and His gifts accompany Him.
He protects His flock like a shepherd;
He gathers the lambs in His arms
and carries them in the fold of His garment.
He gently leads those that are nursing."
~~ Isaiah 40:9-11, HCSB ~~



Yesterday, I didn't take as much time to let the words soak in. Today I want to do more of that before blogging my thoughts. But I did want to share today's passage. I'm going to read it again before bed tonight and do some journaling. Will add some of those resulting thoughts tomorrow. =)

For now... let me leave you with lyrics from a hymn that this passage reminded me of:

"Savior, like a Shepherd Lead Us"

Savior, like a shepherd lead us, much we need Thy tender care; in Thy pleasant pastures feed us, for our use Thy folds prepare: blessed Jesus, blessed Jesus, Thou has bought us, Thine we are; blessed Jesus, blessed Jesus, Thou has bought us, Thine we are.

We are Thine; do Thou befriend us, be the guardian of our way; keep Thy flock, from sin defend us, seek us when we go astray: Blessed Jesus, blessed Jesus, hear, O hear us when we ptray; blessed Jesus, blessed Jesus, hear, O hear us when we pray.

Thou hast promised to receive us, poor and sinful though we be; Thou hast mercy to relieve us, grace to cleanse, and pow'r to free: blessed Jesus, blessed Jesus, early let us turn to Thee; blessed Jesus, blessed Jesus, early let us turn to Thee.

Early let us seek Thy favor, early let us do Thy will; blessed Lord and only Savior, with Thy love our beings fill: blessed Jesus, blessed Jesus, Thou hast loved us, love us still; blessed Jesus, blessed Jesus, Thou hast loved us, love us still.

Words by Dorothy A. Thrupp (1779–1847). Published in Hymns for the Young, 1836.

40-Day Bible-reading Challenge: Day 1

"A voice of one crying out:
Prepare the way of the LORD in the wilderness;
make a straight highway for our God in the desert.
Every valley will be lifted up,
and every mountain and hill will be leveled;
the uneven ground will become smooth
and the rough places, a plain.
And the glory of the LORD will appear,
and all humanity together will see it,
for the mouth of the LORD has spoken."

~ Isaiah 40:3-5, HCSB ~



When I've read this passage before, I've read it through the lens of what Jesus did and what He will do when He returns: that He would be the one filling in the valleys and bringing down all the heights. But what if there's another way to read those sentences?

Prepare and make -- those are commands. To whom? Who is the voice who cries out? Isn't this a foreshadowing of John the Baptist?

Perhaps the passage speaks of His coming again, when He will set His feet upon Jerusalem, trembling the earth.

So... what sort of way are we to be preparing? Is it in our own hearts?

I have to ponder on this some more.

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

The Bog People, or What I Did on My Christmas Break 2005

{I have all these hilarious blog posts just sitting in the Drafts folder. I think they deserve to be published!! Here's one from almost five years ago. Wow!}


Between the Christmas and New Year's holidays, Ashpenaz and I traveled with our parents up to the Pittsburgh, PA area, where Grandpa G, Aunt and Uncle SteelersFan, and the Cuz live.

Two years ago around the same time, we toured a lovely Victorian mansion and grounds, ate at Primanti's, and shopped at Station Square. This year was even more educational.

Who needs shopping when museums are available? (Oh, but museums usually have gift shops! How can Elena resist?)

Ashpenaz tried to drag me to the Andy Warhol museum. "But if you were just exposed more to his work, Elena, you would appreciate him," she enthused.

"Ash, I've had all the Andy Warhol exposure I could ever want. I heard and saw an interesting CBS Sunday Morning segment on the guy. I don't need to see rows of neon Campbell's soup cans up close to appreciate Mr. Warhol. He was odd. His art was odd. Nuff said."

Little Sister just harumphed her college-know-it-all-art-history-major harumph...and finally gave up.

In place of the Warhol whatchamathingie, we chose the Nationality Rooms in the Cathedral of Learning on the campus of University of Pittsburgh and the Carnegie Museum of Art and Natural History.

First, we passed the Heinz Chapel. Yes, Heinz....the ketchup people. It was a mixture of Gothic and Romanesque architecture. Too bad it was closed till after January 1. It would have been a neat tour. The quote from one of the Heinz folk, upon the dedication of the building, is actually quite moving: "If those who come under the influence of this place go out to face life with new courage and restored faith because of the peace and calm and loveliness they found here … this commemorative sanctuary will not have been built in vain."---Howard Heinz, from the Dedication Address, November 20, 1938


First stop was the Cathedral of Learning. The what of what? Yes, a cathedral. Yes, it really looks like a cathedral. Yes, "of Learning." Classrooms and administrative offices can be found on almost every floor.

Why this building? Well, supposedly, in the 1920s, the new chancellor of the school was hailing a taxi. The cabbie didn't know how to get to U of Pitt, so the chancellor decided he needed to figure out a way to put the university "on the map."

Now, not only are classes held there...and office tasks...tasked...but also you can tour the Nationality Classrooms. Various nationalities of people who live in Pennsylvania form committees and raise money to decorate and furnish a room to reflect that nationality's culture. We saw these rooms: Armenian, Hungarian, Lithuanian, Swedish, Norwegian, Russian, Greek, English, French, Irish, Scottish, German, Early American, Indian, Austrian, Swiss, Chinese, and Japanese.


Next stop was the Carnegie Museum of Natural History and Art. Unk SteelersFan and I were the only ones of our group to decide we'd view the "Mysterious Bog People" exhibit. Think Shrinky-dinks....made of people....with....a lot less color. Makes desert-dried denizens or your proverbial sea-salted sailor look quite healthy. Of course, the Bog People are dead. Very dead. Hundreds of years dead. The entrails of one guy are even hung out for all of creation to see. And there were little kids going through this exhibit!

Experts have some theories as to why the people were killed and why they were buried in the bog. You can read all about it for yourself.

Heh-heh... ever had Bog People Coffee? Chock full of caffeine it is. Kept me up till 3:00 a.m. Eastern one night while we stayed in Canonsburg. Yikes! I think I could have deconstructed Derrida with all that java in me.

I think this was the first time I've ever been to a true natural history museum. When they say "museum of natural history," what they really mean is "lots of dead animals...stuffed." Not the same thing as all those cool exhibits of birds, fish, and reptiles you see at any one of the aquariums around our country. The aquariums are usually working with organizations to preserve animals and their habitats. The natural history museum will take 'em when they're dead.


Highlights:
* Casts of famous pieces of architecture, making our beloved Parthenon's collection look puny—Mr. Carnegie had this thing with collecting casts of architecture
* The four Christmas trees decorated in themes based on four poems (The Owl and the Pussycat, The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere, Sing a Song of Sixpence, and some other poem I can't remember)
* The Precepio—an Italian version of the Nativity scene, set in the Middle Ages and including many more pieces than what you'd find in your tabletop Nativity scene set
* The paleontology lab—you can watch workers carefully tending to dinosaur bones
* The Gems and Precious Metals exhibit—ooh, shiny stuff!

Wednesday, June 30, 2010

Wisdom Wednesday: Wise Words from Jon Acuff

Who is Jon Acuff? He's the blogger who runs Stuff Christians Like and author of the book of the same name. In a post today, Jon describes what I call wanting the download of wisdom without the dreaded slog through experience. He even includes one of my favorite Bible verses, Job 23:10.

But Jon doesn't stop there. He backs up to verse 9.

Jon writes that
being shaped is never easy. Becoming gold is never as easy or as quick as I would like it to be. Have you ever felt that way? Whether it’s a job that is slowly wearing you down, a relationship that feels tangled, or a dream that is dying on the vine as you work somewhere to pay the bills, life is not always easy. And to be honest, there are days when I want to yell, “Where are You, God? I catch no glimpse of You!”

But the truth for me and … you is that He is at work.

Even if we do not see Him. Even if we catch no glimpse of Him. Even if the testing weighs heavy, He is in motion. He is unchanging. He is relentless with His grace and mercy and love.

He knows the way we take.

And He will bring us forth as gold.

These truths remind me of the way Aslan is depicted in The Chronicles of Narnia books, particularly in The Last Battle, which is as the title suggests, the last story of Narnia. {*SPOILER WARNING!!*} For a good deal of the book, Aslan, who is allegorically parallel to our Lord, Jesus Christ, spends his time away from the Narnians (sound anything like Job 23:9 to you? does to me), but they mention him a great deal. They keep saying, "But he is not a tame lion," to explain all sorts of suppositions, claims, and ponderings about various actions carried out by one side or the other. Much is done in his name, but not all of it is as he would have done. And because of his long absence, some question his existence or decide that he doesn't exist.

Ultimately, Aslan does prove to the Narnians and others that he is as good, kind, and just as the "old stories" described him. But not all believe. Those who do are richly rewarded. They come through the trials of their last days and moments in Narnia "as gold," as Job 23:10 describes.

The believers, as I call them, are brought through the door into Aslan's Country, before all of the world of Narnia is destroyed. The rest of the book describes the journey "further up and further in" that the Narnians and other-worlders take in Aslan's Country. Lewis's words create such a vivid image of their final destination; for me, a sliver-size foretaste of what heaven will be like.

So often we need to remember, as Jon Acuff and Job point out, that our journey will result in what is the highest good: being with God, in a perfected state, in a perfect place... forever. And through that lens, the things of today can be less daunting.