Fatherhood is an awesome power – as in a tad frightening.  On the one hand, fathers know well that their children are individuals separate from themselves – they aren’t us.  But, on the other hand, we know clearly from experience and data that fathers are not merely an influence on children but are a sort of foundation or touch stone to their identity – we are literally called by God to form their character.  How can we square the “not us” with the “form them well” aspects of this vocation?  Is it our doing or not?  At our work we can build and create, but you don’t “build and create” when you discipline and teach.  It’s something of a whole other order.

“Art” might be a good way to understand it, properly understood. 

It was Roger Scruton that helped this ol’ trailer park kid understand why modern art and classical art seemed at odds.  Classical artists, he said, wanted to show one thing in their art: “beauty.”  Of course, truth and goodness would do with that.  Modern art – with plenty of exceptions, yes, but broadly speaking – is about expressing or finding yourself.  To stay with this simple dichotomy, think of Michaelangelo saying that inside a block of marble is a statue and “the task of the artist is to discover it,” and compare that to modern artist Tracey Emin putting a messy bed surrounded by cigarettes, trash, and contraceptives on display and asserting it as art by sheer will, even though it simply communicated a deep sadness she had after a breakup. 

I can’t help but point out that the classical artist is more akin to a farmer as well, and the modern artist (of the disordered type) is more like a social media influencer.  The farmer forgets himself entirely as he considers the needs of the soil and submits completely to its ways and gifts – he works tirelessly but cannot force anything. By contrast, the influencer can’t do anything without considering themselves as the center of it, because gaining attention is the nature of the work itself.  He forces himself into everything, since the world is just one big backdrop for his selfies.  He is not the worker bringing something to perfection, but he is the literal focus of the lens he sees the world through. 

When a father works with and cares for his children, he knows that inside of them is “the statue in the stone,” the potential of character and will that is a man.  His work is more revelatory than engineering.  This is what we call “virtue,” which is nothing like an adopted method of self-improvement, but is our true power and identity honed and cultivated.  I like to tell my children that their virtue is their true self and vice is the distortion or stunting of this identity.  Like an oak tree, virtue is something that grows naturally and is the truth of what that tree is, provided it receives the right nutrients and is free from constraints.  When a man really understands and appreciates the form and potential of a full-grown oak, he can even tend it toward that end by careful pruning and care. 

When we “tend” our children’s character, therefore, we are recognizing within them something not of our own making.  It requires a humble recognition that God has made them, and the “qualities” of their character – virtue – is also not of our own making.  Virtue is not a code of life used by Christians, but the universal form of good that is the same in all men and different in all men at the same time.  But, with the wisdom and knowledge of virtue that comes only with study and experience (i.e. years), we can see the truth of our children – and bring it out.  This is the vocation and paradox of parenting, that we submit to the truth that God has made man (children included) in His own image but that the latent maturity of that image must be guided, taught, and formed.  We parent best when we see God and we see our children – not when we think of ourselves.

This can be somewhat of a relief, in that by using the language and knowledge of the virtues, I don’t have to impart some concocted personality onto my children.  Their virtuous self is not some other self.  It is who they are, matured.  It is the very nature of fatherhood not merely to “plant the seed” of life, but to bring it to perfection.  The beasts plant seeds but do not bring up their offspring in virtue – squirrels don’t have “character” honed by squirrel dads.  This is why only a man can be a father.  In fact, it is only by fathering that he fully becomes a man. 

Seeing our job as honing the virtue of our children also takes the focus away from ourselves – or it should.  Like an artist, we want the truth to be shown and not merely a reflection.  Fathers seem to be at their worst when they think of their children as representatives of themselves.  This isn’t to say that children don’t reflect their parent’s discipline and care, its just that if you focus on the reflection itself it’s like staring at yourself in the mirror.  You don’t even see your kid.  When we think only of our children “reflecting” something about ourselves – that we are orderly, successful, and worthy of praise – we are like the influencer squeezing the immensity of reality into our ego’s curated display.  We wash their face so it looks clean in public, not to see better the beauty of their face.

This brings us back to the artistry of it.  Our job as fathers is to cultivate, tend, and care for the virtue of our children, their secure identity and maturity.  As an artist we sometimes take off chunks of stone that don’t belong to reveal what does belong.  As farmers sometimes we prune and correct a course.  But we know that there is a beauty in the soul of our children that we want to show forth not as a trophy or reflection, but as its own individual glory.  Our children are not meant to become who they are independent of us – why would we even need parents? – but they are in fact independent of us.  This interplay of freedom and formation can really only be understood in light of the parent/child relationship, which is why man alone reflects the very image of God in the love of a Father for the Son.