Father figures

March 2021

 This month, is honor of St. Joseph's feast day, we asked out
writers to reflect upon father figures in their lives

The noble man

McKenna Snow
Class of 2024

There are some intrinsic elements of fatherhood that cannot be substituted or detached. These elements are found in particular virtues, qualities, and in the very nature of manhood itself. There are many that go overlooked now because our day-to-day life is remarkably easier and less life-threatening than, for example, the life of a settler called to protect his family from the harsh conditions of the wilderness. A father, then, might not be necessarily a human being who is intrinsically "brave" anymore. The vocation of fatherhood used to naturally entail this virtue, which implied that the man would be willing to step into any fight or fire to protect his family. Does life still challenge the modern-day American father in this heroic way? Though some modern-day occupations carry heavy risk to those in such fields, overall the conditions are less harsh. And yet the inherent noble virtues remain, and continue to necessitate the vocation of fatherhood.

For example, the virtue of bravery is still essential to the life of a father. I do not think that the virtue of bravery is totally lost to fathers simply because our conditions of living have improved significantly over the years. Rather, I think they are more often called to the bravery of being "unpopular" in modern circles. And what could make a father "unpopular?" His embrace of masculinity to serve his family better.

It is no easy thing to go against the progressive crowd, which calls for total equalization of men and women. They do not believe in men holding doors for women anymore. They hate the term "ladies first." A stay-at-home mom is becoming less and less encouraged, and the man providing for her and their children is facing a similar ridicule. Masculinity threatens the progressive movement because it empowers men where they thrive most: in embracing their natural strength, protectiveness, leadership skills, and competiveness. Fathers who embrace their masculinity use these natural tendencies to the benefit of their families, not for their own personal gain. They are motivated by their desire to provide for their families, thus wanting to do well in their occupations. Their leadership skills and competitiveness equip them to go far in the workplace.

Among the man’s natural qualities, his protectiveness over his family orients his physical strength for their benefit. Although the modern-day man is not faced with as difficult survival conditions as in the past, he sometimes is faced with intruders, criminals, and unexpected dangers from which he must protect his family. Consider a father rushing into a burning building because he knows that his child is inside. He thinks nothing of his own potential jeopardy—rather, he employs any and all strength he has to rescue his child. Employed righteously, the qualities of masculinity help a father to provide and care for his family better.

Another virtue that cannot be understated is faith. While faith is definitely important for both men and women, it is a father’s responsibility to set the example in the home for his children. That is why this virtue puts particular responsibility on the father, who leads his family in daily prayer, and demonstrates the importance of a relationship with God by driving his family to church on Sundays. Further, since no family is without hardships, a father who exercises faith in times of trial provides an encouraging example for his children. A father’s ability to exemplify hope in such times is invaluable. If he practices this virtue, his children will mature with a deeper sense of family life encouraged by hope and optimism. The children will be able to look back at their father as a role-model during their own trials in life, and say, "my father handled that with grace, faith, and hope. In my trials now, I know I can do the same." A family environment steeped in purpose provides the children with a deeper sense of hope and optimism.

Love is the most important aspect of the vocation of fatherhood. A father’s love for his children is seen in how he is understanding and responsive to his child’s needs, wants, and struggles. It is also seen in his faithfulness and attentiveness to his wife. He puts her needs above his, and works with her as a team in guiding their family. He joyfully helps his wife with chores, such as cooking, cleaning, repairing parts of the house, maintaining vehicles, and yardwork. This father lovingly sets boundaries and sometimes tells his children "no" so they will not always expect instant gratification in life. He prioritizes time with his family over time in his "man cave" when he is home from work. Sports and hobbies pale in comparison to the joy found in taking his children to a playground and to taking his wife on a date. A father who spends time with his family creates irreplaceable memories that a child will cherish for the rest of his or her life.

Being a father is no easy calling. To this day, the vocation entails specific and irremovable aspects in order for the family to function healthily. The father practices bravery in his daily life, unafraid of humbling himself as he holds the door for his wife and children to walk through. Further, he is called to orient his masculinity toward the benefit of his family, rather than toward personal gain and exaltation. Having faith is crucial for teaching his children to value morals and optimism, especially in times of trial. And a father responds wholeheartedly to the call to love his family unconditionally and unchangingly. Putting aside his own interests for his family, he teaches them the intrinsic value of family life and how to spend precious time meaningfully.

How beautiful are these aspects of fatherhood, how encouraging and inspiring are they! Indeed, fathers are heroic. They are irreplaceable. May this vocation never be neglected, devalued, or understated. It is a good thing to be a man; it is a noble thing to be a father.

Read other articles by McKenna Snow

Father of none

Emmy Jansen
Class of 2023

We are all called to fill specific roles. At one moment, I am a daughter, sister, friend, and mother without having any biological children of my own. Human life is relational, meaning we are called to be different things for different people. I can see this within my own life; when I’ve been surrounded by younger girls, I feel instantly pulled to ‘mother’ them. I’m not raising them or bringing them into this world, but I am mentoring them and guiding them as a mother does but in a way that maybe their mother can’t. I imagine it would be similar for men, who at the same time are sons, brothers, and fathers.

The saying "it takes a village" is often misunderstood. The community should not bear the weight of raising children in place of parents. However, to assume that only a parent will have an impact on the child is an assumption that takes for granted the relational aspect of human life. I am greatly impacted by the community in which I was raised, even if no one made it their goal to influence me in that way. It would also be na've to assume that two parents by themselves can handle the weight of a child’s entire life. There are some things that parents can’t do. This is no fault of the mother or father; we cannot be all things to all people all the time and possess all the knowledge necessary for every situation.

There are somethings you don’t want to talk to your parents about; dating, for example, requires a different role and a different person. This is where I can become a sister to girls I share with whom I share no blood relation. This is where men can be brothers, fathers, friends, and sons. The family may be nuclear, but it is not an organism that lives separate. It is in conjunction and communication with the world around it.

I am never just one thing. I am a composite of relationships past and present that have shaped me, for better or for worse, based on the role that I played. Over the course of time, I can be a mother, sister, daughter, and friend to the same person. Sometimes I need the loving guidance of a mother; sometimes I have that loving guidance to impart on someone else. Other times, I am just a friend or a sister, equal in the amount of wisdom we have to give and take from each other.

While these relationships are especially obvious between the same genders, it can be equally important across the sexes. However, it can be harder. I can list the men who have served as a father to me without being my biological dad: teachers, priests, and mentors come to mind. However, those relationships have been immensely more difficult than my relationships with metaphorical mothers. It requires a type of openness, honesty, and vulnerability to allow yourself to be fathered as a woman or to be mothered as a man. As a woman, it is harder to perform a motherly role towards a male instead of a female. I don’t know why, but I think I can guess.

In female to female relationships, I know the type of knowledge she is looking for and I know the type of wisdom I have to provide. These either match, or don’t match. For example, when a female friend is going through a breakup of any kind, I know I have experiences that have given me wisdom I might be able to give her and I’m familiar enough with the female mind to know what she most likely needs right now.

With men, I have absolutely no clue what a man might need or want in any situation. It is the age-old story of women confusing men and men confusing women. "I don’t understand you," we say to each other. "You don’t make any sense." This is all true. There is a greater unknown in dealing with the opposite gender than there is in dealing with the same and with the unknown comes fear and with fear comes doubt. This is a topic that has come up in many of my courses over my almost two years here at the Mount and it’s one I continue to wrestle with. As social creatures, when relationships are hard, life is hard. It’s an important facet of our lives that deserves discussion.

My parents raised three daughters and two sons. I love my father. I also know that when it comes to my mind and emotions, he has absolutely no idea what to do. My mom can guess since she, too, was a teenage girl with a flair for theatrics. But my dad is lost, as any father would be. The same can be said about my sisters and the same can be said about my mom towards my brothers. As relational creatures, it can put a lot of stress in our lives when our relationships aren’t easy—and they never are. Despite our similarities, we can never truly understand each other because we can never truly know each other, not fully and completely. There is always a part of us hidden, even to ourselves. It is this unknown that makes relationships complicated and with the more unknowns, there are arises more complications.

So, when we look at our world and see daughters wounded by fathers and sons wounded by mothers or any combination of these, we aren’t surprised. Deeply saddened, but not surprised. What the human heart seems to be in longing for is guidance. Knowledge. Understanding. In these moments of need and confusion, I turn to the people around me. For advice, I go to friends. For mentoring, I go to professors. For love, I go home. But we would be denying ourselves a fundamental part of our lives if we were to close ourselves off from the relationships we have with others. Fatherhood and motherhood are necessary parts of human life and they are not limited to only those who we share biology with. We can be fathers and mothers to those around us. We should be fathers and mothers to those around us.

Read other articles by Emmy Jansen

A new inheritance

Harry Scherer
Class of 2022

In the first line of one of his sonnets, William Wordsworth exclaims, "Father! To God Himself we cannot give a holier name." In these few words, the poet suggests two profound things about fatherhood. First, God the Father is the ultimate model for all men who fulfill a paternal role. Second, it is the responsibility of these same men to look to Him for guidance and direction.

In this month of St. Joseph during the year of St. Joseph, it seems appropriate to point to this foster-father of the Son of God as the first creature to acknowledge and live out these two truths so intimately. We know very little about St. Joseph and it is precisely because of this dearth of knowledge that we learn so much about fatherhood.

St. Joseph is silent throughout the Gospels. We hear from his spouse every once in a while, and from his Son with much more regularity. This indicates something distinct about the paternal position: it is a position much more about action than about speech. Because of the amount of time a father and his son spend together, the son knows almost immediately if his father’s words deviate from his actions. Fatherhood is a perpetual examination of consistency. Because the practice of virtue is made evident in action and not by convincing, the father is infinitely more interested in the stuff of his action than the fluff of his words.

The deafening silence of St. Joseph indicates the humility of a mere creature constantly amazed by the Divine Wisdom and mute in His presence. St. Joseph embraced his place as the earthly father of Christ and in that way allowed his own action to serve as a constant educational tool for his Son. For Christ, assuming the lowliness of human flesh meant simultaneously assuming a position of obedience to his earthly father. It was because of this obedience to St. Joseph that Christ "advanced in wisdom and age and grace with God and men" (Luke 2:52).

St. Joseph was the silent teacher who taught Christ how to be a man. Instead of telling him the best way to spend his brief pilgrimage on earth, he showed him with the tenderness he demonstrated with the Blessed Mother, his diligence in the workshop and his pious deference to the divine will during prayer at home and in the synagogue. Our Lord could not have been convinced of the merits of these earthly goods but had to have been shown them with patience and paternal love.

It has been relatively easy for me to reflect on the probable characteristics of St. Joseph because of my own experience with the certain characteristics of my dad. I don’t have to refer back to notes or a glossary of vocabulary under "preferable paternal attributes." On the contrary, these ideals are so engrained in my mind because they are so tied in with my own experience.

It’s a common notion for persons to identify their parents or children or dogs as the "best" ones out there. I think there’s something appropriate about that and I wouldn’t say that those persons should be accused of being clichéd. With that said, I can say with confidence that my dad is the best one out there. This is true, at the very least, because he was the one who was given, is given and continues to give himself to me. His constant gift of himself throughout my life has meant that he did not passively accept his responsibilities as a father but embraced them without reserve.

Consistent with the silent teaching of St. Joseph, the only things I know about fatherhood I know because of my own dad. Other than recalling fond memories from my early childhood, I don’t remember him ever explicitly telling me anything about what real fatherhood is. I certainly don’t regard this as an absence in our relationship; on the contrary, I view it as a strength. Real relationships require vital communication through nuance and knowledge of the other person. We never have needed to sit down to have a conversation about real fatherhood because we’ve been having it for the past 21 years.

I know that my experience and life with my dad has been a unique one to the extent that everyone’s experience and life with their father or those men who play a paternal role in their lives is unique. At the same time, I know that I am incredibly blessed with the father that has been given to me and I could not be more grateful. We have been told since we were young that God made us in the exact right moment at the exact right place. Throughout the troubles, desolations, frustrations and humiliations of my life, that truth I have been told since I was a young boy becomes even clearer when I have been able to share that time with my dad. This truth is more pleasantly clear through the good times, of course. One of the gifts that my dad has shared with me and my mum, though, is an attitude that sees a very blurred line between the good times and bad times. For years, he has incarnated the words of St. Augustine that I always love to cite: "Bad times, hard times-this is what people keep saying; but let us live well, and times shall be good. We are the times: Such as we are, such are the times." He has been and continues to be a solid rock on which my mum and I have leant throughout the years.

I am so grateful for all of the gifts that my dad has given me; the only recourse I have to repay him is to try to imitate him in any way that I can so that the gift can be passed on beyond his or my years. While this inheritance is one with more responsibilities that I can number, I have a pretty incredible model from which to work.

Read other articles by Harry Scherer

Mr. Mom

Angela Guiao
Class of 2021

One of the most prominent memories I have from my childhood is walking out of my elementary school after a taxing day in kindergarten. The kindergarten classroom had a door that led out to the front garden of the school, and the parents usually gathered around there near the end of the day to pick up their kids. I don’t remember what was going on that specific day, but it was particularly busy. And I distinctly remember, while scanning the crowd for my mom, watching my best friend, Alice, run towards her dad. He picked her up and placed her on his shoulders, and together they laughed as they made their way to the car.

This was the first time I truly realized that I didn’t have a dad.

As I grew older, I would be periodically reminded of the fact that I didn’t have a dad in my life. Yearly, I’d remember every Father’s Day when my teachers had us make cards for our dads, and I realized I had no one to give mine to. I’d be reminded each summer when my mom would refuse to travel anywhere further than an hour away (unless we were with a group of people) due to the fact that she was frightened of what might happen to two women if the car broke down.

When I was younger, I remember often wondering how different my life would be if I had a dad. Perhaps, if my mom had someone to help her with the bills, I would have my own room. Or maybe if I had a dad, my mom wouldn’t have to work so much, so she wouldn’t be so tired or short tempered all the time. I always wondered how much I was missing, and I had always assumed my life would be better if only I had a dad.

And perhaps that is true. But, as I look back now, I realize that I have a pretty good life.

I didn’t have a dad, but I always felt loved. My mom loved me so much, her love probably equaled that of ten people. We didn’t have much money, but she always bought me the things that I wanted. I never realized we were poor. She never had much time, and she was chronically tired, but she made every single piano recital, graduation, and school play.

I didn’t have a dad, but I have a mom.

My mom taught me how to ride a bike. And she spent weekends with me at the park when I wanted to learn how to play tennis and softball. She enrolled me in dance classes and soccer lessons, ballet and piano, and she always wanted to take me to them herself. And like clockwork, she’d always be waiting when I was finished.

My mom taught me multiplication and division. She would come home at 11pm, and we’d go through flashcards until I fell asleep. Then she would tuck me in and get ready for bed. Then in the morning, I’d wake up to breakfast already made and my lunch ready for me to take to school. Sometimes, I’d wonder if she even went to sleep.

It was my mom that took me to Freshman orientation. It was also her who dropped me off my first day here at the Mount. And it was my mom who I called every day because now I was at school, and she was all alone.

My mom sacrificed everything for me. She spent day-in and day-out at work. She spent all of her money on me. She has been planning out how to make sure I get into college since the minute I learned how to read.

But she was also there when I had my first crush. And when I had my first boyfriend. I always heard that dads were supposed to be overprotective. That no boy was ever good enough for their daughter. If that is how dads are, then my mom embodied the spirit of three dads during my adolescent years.

Every year, I was my mom’s Valentine’s date. She would buy me chocolates and stuffed bears, and we’d go out to eat at a fancy restaurant while dressed in our Sunday best. She’d surprise me with little notes around the house. And she’d take me to the movies twice a month for "date night". She used to tell me, "One day, you will be doing this with your husband instead of me. Make sure he treats you this well." She taught me the importance of being able to depend on yourself. She showed me how to love unconditionally and reminded me never to accept less than I deserve.

Now, in no way am I saying that we don’t need dads. I don’t know what it means to have a dad. I don’t know how different my life would be. I don’t know how having a dad would have shaped my life. Maybe it would be different if I was a boy. Or maybe I wouldn’t feel this way if my mom wasn’t this strong. All I do know is that I was a happy kid. And I attribute that to the love of my parent.

I do know that I have a good life, and that is because of my mom. I can’t say that my life would be any better or any worse if I had a dad, but I can say that I was loved just as much as any child with two parents.

My mom is a strong woman, so I became a strong woman. And though I don’t know much about dads, I’d imagine all dads would want their daughters to grow up as strong women. So, in that sense, she succeeded. Because, in the end, all any parent wants, moms or dads, is for their children to grow up happy and loved. And that is exactly what I did.

My mom is the best dad in the world.

Read other articles by Angela Guiao

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