UUCA Sermon - Fathers-on-Fathers

Well, here I am again! This is my first time up in our pulpit since I left for my three-month sabbatical at the beginning of March. I guess I had a little bit of pulpit-envy, with Michael getting all that “air time,” but when I got back into the office on June 5, and saw my haggard, disheveled, exhausted “teamie” gasping, “I’m so glad you’re back, Joan!” my eyes teared up with compassion! The team is restored – all’s well with the world!

And I look forward happily to enhancing our ministry team, as the Reverend Linda Olson Peebles joins us on July 1. Added to that, w will restore our tradition of being a “teaching church,” home to Ministerial Interns, when Henry Ticknor begins his 9-month stay here at UUCA in September.

Well, now – look at all these guys up here! -- You didn’t think I was going to tackle Father’s Day alone, did you? But, I also didn’t think there’d be so many of them. I sent a letter explaining my idea for this service, and a questionnaire, to 19 men in our church. To my surprise, fourteen responded. And, of those 14, several were able to be here this morning, some of them on the platform with me. I’m very grateful to these men for being willing to share with me – and with us, this morning, – their memories and thoughts about their Fathers, and about being a Father. But, they will not be talking much, except for a reading or two. Instead, I’m going to tell you about them.

The questionnaire each man completed asked for some biographical information. It also asked questions about characteristics most admired in their father, strong memories of their father in their lives, and words or deeds left undone or unspoken with their father. The last question asked them to supply ONE WORD that describes their experience with their father.

The second part of the questionnaire asked about their fathering. They were asked for memories, and hopes for their relationship with their children in the future, and, if they have a son, or sons, to express their wishes for them as future fathers. How did the characteristics they admired about their fathers effect their fathering? And, they were asked for one word that describes each of them in the role of father.

A man’s life most often is shaped by his relationship with his father. Boys search deeply throughout their childhood for a masculine model on which to build their sense of self. These snapshot images of fathers and sons reveal glimpses of the special bond between generations of men. Each learns about what it is to be a man, as they look back and move forward. These are truly just glimpses, but precious glimpses.

The act of intentional remembering, with compassion, throughout our lives, brings understanding.

READING – Bob Hopper, Reader

What I’m now going to read is the Prologue to Kent Nerburn’s book, “Letters to My Son.” It’s titled, “A Father’s Wish.”

I write this book as a father – not just as your father but as any father. Until you have a son of your own, you will never know what that means. You will never know the joy beyond joy, the love beyond feeling that resonates in the heart of a father as he looks upon his son. You will never know the sense of honor that makes a man want to be more than he is and to pass something good and hopeful into the hands of his son. And you will never know the heartbreak of the fathers who are haunted by the personal demons that keep them from being the men they want their sons to see.

You will see only the man that stands before you, or who has left your life, who exerts power over you, for good or for ill, that will never let go.

It is a great privilege and a great burden to be that man.

And yet, how to put it into words? We live in a time when it is hard to speak from the heart. The song that lives in our hearts, the song that we have waited to share, the song of being a man, is silent. We find ourselves full of advice but devoid of belief.

And so, I want to speak to you honestly. I do not have answers. But I do understand the questions. I see myself reflected in your eyes and in your days. In some deep and fundamental way, I have been there, and I want to share.

I am a man as you are. Although you will walk your own earth and move through your own time, the same sun will rise on you that rose on me, and the same seasons will course across your life as moved across mine. We will always be different, but we will always be the same.

Colin Lovett’s parents are Tom and Patricia, and he has two siblings – Kera and Kyle. He admires his father for being steady, honest, loving, and responsible. Colin remembers his Dad telling him he was loved, wanted, and needed, and remembers times when they dreamed together of a better world. In the years ahead, he looks forward to friendship, advice, and good conversation in his relationship with his father. Colin and Lisa Ragain are married almost 7 years now, and they have two little guys named Liam and Quinn. He remembers, with joy, holding his sons for the first time. He wants a relationship of respect and friendship with them. His hopes are that, when the time comes for them to be fathers, they get into the role with joy, patience, and love. Colin used the word, “friendship” to describe his experience of his father, and chose the word, “nurturer” to describe himself as a father.

Lew Stern grew up in Brooklyn, New York, with his Mom and Dad, Sylvia and Melville, and his brother Glenn. He describes his Father as a man of strong convictions; one who loved his country, and was honest, kind, quick to smile, firm and strict; one who believed in living up to high standards. His Dad walked on crutches all his life as a result of polio, but taught that physical disabilities were incidental to one’s identity and could never circumscribe one’s mind and spirit. He taught life lessons; quiet patient efforts to distill guidelines. He combined patience and impatience to provide his sons with an understanding of when to think things over and come to an independent conclusion, and when to when to take immediate steps to fix things or mend behavior. He and his wife, Mary have two daughters, Eva and Anna. His fathering is similar to his Dad’s, and his hope is that their children will be honest people, good Americans, loving partners and good parents. Their lives have made him proud.

David Rosenberg grew up in Dayton, Ohio, with his parents, Leo and Jane Rosenberg, and his siblings, Susan, Sara, and Alan. Leo Rosenberg was a doctor. David characterized him as having a strong commitment to family and to learning, and said he was a loyal friend and open to all types of people. A fond memory David has of his father is of sitting on his lap when he was about 5 while, night after night, Dad read to him the chapters of Homer’s Odyssey. David married Patricia Bodnar in 1983, and they have a daughter, Emily Claire, born in 1995. As a father, David emulates his father’s love of reading and learning, his knowledge and interest of other cultures and religions; of art and music. David hopes for a strong, warm, and close relationship with his daughter in the years ahead. He hopes to provide the right balance of protection and challenge to help Emily develop her own ways of being. David describes his experience of his father as “respect/challenge,” and feels himself to be “enthralled” in his role as a father.

Bob Hopper grew up in Los Angeles with his mother and father, Bob and Anna, and his two siblings, Eleanor and Bill. The family lived in Los Angeles, and Bob remembers “going with his father on buses with his fellow Lions Club members to baseball and football games.” He was encouraged by his father, from the time he was about 12 years old, to take part in adult conversations with his business friends. Bob remembers he “always had good jokes and stories at the dinner table. Bob wrote that his Dad was “in the death business.” He managed cemeteries and developed mausoleums. He listed his Dad’s characteristics as “realism, balance, humor, and public service.” He died in 1965, when his son was 21. Bob wrote, “We had a good relationship and I was lucky that, when he died, I had no doubts that he valued me and that he understood how much I appreciated him. His one word to describe his experience of his father was “golden.” Bob married Carol in 1966 and they have two children, Allison and Beto. He thinks his fond views of his father’s good traits contributed to the quality of his fathering, but, he said, “Judging how I am as a father is harder than assessing my own father.” He realizes that he had let himself be so busy at work that he didn’t spend enough time with his son. And his daughter recently pointed out examples of his not being a good listener, which he is trying to remedy. Bob makes every effort to stay in close communication with his children, always being willing to take the first step, but being realistic about the differences between the styles and needs of the two generations. He hopes his “son will believe that life is stable and good enough for him to take the big gamble on becoming a husband and father.” He wants his fathering to be seen as partnership.

Jack McWethy grew up in Western Springs, Illinois, with his Mom and Dad, John and Mary, and two siblings, Andy and Anne. His Dad was a newspaper editor, hardworking and gentle. He lived the last 17 years of his life as a quadriplegic, in a wheelchair, yet always found subtle ways to convey affection and interest. Jack wishes there had been more visits, more conversations about his life. Jack and Laurie Duncan married 30 years ago, and have two sons, Adam and Ian. He spoke of the amazement that accompanied how much they taught him about love and humility. His hope for his relationship with his sons is to keep the doors of communication and love open. His wishes for them are that they will not be afraid to express their affection for their children and not be too proud to learn from them or to express weaknesses and vulnerabilities in order to demonstrate real strength. He experienced his father as “solid,” and describes himself as a “caring” father.

Jim Olivetti was the only child born to Hedda and Renzo Giacomo Olivetti. Renzo died 14 years ago at the age of 80. He was a pathologist; a learned man, hardworking. Jim remembers his yelling in Italian, his fits of rage, his hypochondria and preoccupation with dying. Jim married Trudi in 1976, and they have two daughters, Elsa and Joanna, or Jolie. As a father, Jim realizes he stresses the importance of intellectual pursuits to his daughters, the same way his father stressed them to him. He hopes to retain their friendship and trust over the years ahead, and describes himself as a “proud” father. His word for his experience of his father is “bewilderment.”

David Permut’s father, Jack Spilka, died in 1952, when he was one year old. David and Darlene Mickey married in 1981, and they have a daughter, Jessica. He has fond memories of her childhood – holding her hand at the beach, teaching her to ride a bike, rubbing her back, reading to her. He wants to be there for her when she needs him; to provide a home she’ll always want to come home to. About his father, David said, “I’ve been told he was a nice guy, but I don’t know. I have no memories of him. I never got to talk to him.” He described his relationship with his father as “absent,” and he chose the word, “there,” to describe himself as a father.

Hal Cleary said he did not have a close relationship with his father, and he found it difficult, even painful, to attempt to answer the questionnaire. He also said that he “resolved the many issues with his father years ago, and is comfortable about it now.” Hal has attempted to be a different kind of father with his three boys and sees that they are all fine young men, doing well, and he couldn’t ask for more. He describes his father role as one of “loving concern.”

READING – Jim Olivetti, Reader

This poem, titled, “My Father,” was written by Letitia Haworth’s father, Walter Wells, when he was in his seventies.

Tom Hillegass has the same name as his father. His Dad and Mother, Regina, had six children, and the family lived in Philadelphia. Tom’s father was a mail fraud investigator for the Postal Service, a hard worker and stubborn. He died six years ago. Tom remembers his father silently demanding respect and obedience. He never hit his kids and rarely yelled, but he shamed his son for showing fear, and concealed his own fears from everyone. Tom married Suzanna in 1966, and they have three children – Moses, Aaron, and Sarah. He hopes that, as his children grow and move on, they will know he is proud of them; that he loves them, and that as they build their families, he will be a part of that. His wish for his two sons is that they will not conceal their humanity from their children, including the fact that they do not know all the answers. The word Tom used to describe his experience of his father was, “remote,” and the word he chose to describe his own fathering was “real.”

Richard Rodriguez grew up in Cuba where he lived with his parents, Chalon and Isabel Rodriguez, and his two sisters, Berthica and Elena. They moved to this area in 1962. Chalon was a urologist, who Richard characterized as having integrity, a willingness to work hard and do the right thing, and kindness. He remembers his father’s “pride in his work, and his acceptance of the many curve balls life threw at him.” Richard says there is “no such ‘one word’” that describes his experience of his father. He married Suzanne Nealon in 1979, and they have two children, Caroline and David. As a father, he aspires to the kindness he admired in his father. His wishes for his ongoing relationship with his children are that he can “learn to be more in tune with what they are feeling; to be able to see what they see, and to be the father they need as the world changes.” And for his son, he wishes he comes to know himself and share that with his children, and be a kind, empathetic man.” The word he chose for himself as a father is, “there.”

I’m reading now from the Epilogue of “Letters to My Son,” by Kent Nerburn. It’s titled, “A Father’s Reflection.”

I love these days…this midlife of the seasons. Like the earth itself, I stand watchful over the changing landscape of my life. From here I can see the springtime promise of you who are coming up behind me. I can feel the surging of your hopes and the sharp, fresh edges of your dreams. But I can also sense the coming knowledge of age with its colder cares and darker echoes.

For this brief moment, I am one with the generations, a father to my son, a son to my father.

I am more patient now. … I know that there are times to act and times to wait.

I am clearer. My youthful desires and dreams have settled into simpler truths, and common kindness often seems enough.

I bear burdens more gladly. The joyous weights of family and fatherhood have softened my heart, and I more willingly embrace the obstacles and limitations of life.

And I know more of love, because I have had it come and go in my life and I treat it with more respect.

But most of all, I am gentler with myself and others, because I know something now of grace – how much our lives are the product of a touch, a glance, a letter never sent or received.

Yes, this is a good season, this midlife. There is peace here, far more than in my youth.

You will learn this peace in your own time. But for now, yours is the season of fresh passions. Embrace it. Celebrate it. Give yourself to its joys and sorrows. But remember to be gentle with yourself and others. We are all children of chance.

Care for those around you. Look past your differences. Their dreams are no less than yours, their choices in life no more easily made.

And give. Give in any way you can, of whatever you possess. To give is to love. To withhold is to wither.

Paul Peak’s childhood was spent in Denver, with his parents, Paul and Verl Peak, and his four brothers. For most of his life his father was a Claims Inspector for the Prudential Insurance Company. Paul remembers his father as a teacher to his sons. And his father set an example for him – in his work ethic, his morals, his teaching, his military service, his dedication to his family. The way he describes his experience of his father is as a “role model.” Paul married Jane Worley in 1944, and they had three children – Roger, Lucy, and Martha. The role modeling and teaching he admired in his father’s way of parenting, became his approach to fathering as well. He spoke of the importance of team parenting with Jane. He describes his family as close, and his relationships with his son, two daughters, and grandchildren as “comfortable.”

Harold and Susie Ratchford married in 1926 and had three children – Harold, Beverly, and, our own, Bill Ratchford. They lived in Danbury, Connecticut. Bill’s father had only a 7^th grade education and worked in a factory and a machine shop from age 12 on. He loved his family, had unending love for his wife, encouraged the children to get all the education they could, and develop a respect for nature. Bill married Barbara Carpenter in 1957 and they have three sons – Shaun, Scott, and Brian. Bill’s family is close and has always enjoyed family activities. He remembers when he was Speaker of the Connecticut Legislature, he adjourned the session so he could get home to watch his son’s Jr. High basketball game. Bill looks forward to continuing closeness with his children and grandchildren, wishing them a loving future. His word to describe his experience of his father was “family closeness,” and his word to describe his role as father is, “caring.”

Yves Maroni’s father, Robert, and his mother, Valentine, were married in 1919. Yves was their first child, followed by Jacques, and then Claudine. They lived in Paris. Yves admired many things about his father: he was a devoted family man who derived his happiness from devoting his life to the happiness of those he loved. His parents stressed the importance of a good education, of being responsible for one’s action, and of hard work to achieve one’s goals in life. They emphasized the power of the mind and reason in making choices in life. Yves said his father was always there for his children, played games and sports with them, often helping Yves with his math and Latin homework. Yves married Frances in 1950. They have been married 50 years and 51 weeks! Their children are Stephen, Alice, and Roger. Yves emulated his father in his own fathering, and built many good memories of times together with his children. He wrote, when asked about his hopes for his relationship with his children in the future: “May our relationship always stay as strong as it is now, may they be spared the pain of seeing their parents suffer in their old age, and may their memories of me after my death sustain them always as they grow old.” Yves used the same word to describe his experience of his father, and himself as a father – “love.”

We are the generations of men

Hoping to do our best

In a world we didn’t ask for.

May a way be prepared for us,

May our gestures be pure,

May we bless the future

With the community of our love.

Letters to My Son, A Father’s Wisdom on Manhood, Life, and Love, by Kent Nerburn, 1999, New World Library, Novato, California.

Finding Our Fathers, How a Man’s Life is Shaped by His Relationship with His Father, by Samuel Osherson, Ph.D., 1986, Contemporary Books, McGraw-Hill Books.

“Fathers-on-Fathers”

READING – Bob Hopper, Reader

READING – Jim Olivetti, Reader

READING – Jack McWethy, Reader

READING – Tom Hillegass, Reader