What's Tony Thinking

The Delight of Watching Those We Love Grow Up

We spent the night recently with three of our delightful grandchildren, Levi, Lila and Olive. The ‘rents had gone out for a night on the town.

We were there, however, strictly as back-up. Levi, now 12 and in seventh grade, was the guy appointed by his parents to run the show and supervise his younger sisters. He even fixed dinner. Well, okay, mac and cheese.

He did a fabulous job, rising to the occasion. He had made his own printed schedule for the evening, one that included things like, “6:30: have dinner together and talk about the good things that happened today.”

With his parents absent, he stepped up. Sometimes we humans are capable of more than we imagine. But we may not discover that until others step aside or are no longer present.

In the Gospel of John Jesus says something like this to his own disciples as they struggle with what he has told them about his impending death and glorification. Yes, I know, it may seem a big jump from the death and resurrection of the Messiah to a 12-year-old playing the parental role when Mom and Dad go out for the night. But the principle is similar, and may provide both comfort and encouragement to any of us as we face new challenges and responsibilities, or as we watch the young ones in our midst do so.

After having told his disciples that he was soon to leave them Jesus added, “Nevertheless I tell you the truth: it is to your advantage that I go away, for if I do not go away, the Advocate will not come to you; but if I go I will send him to you.” (John 16: 7) The “Advocate” is one of several terms used in the New Testament for the Holy Spirit.

So Jesus is saying to the bereft and confused disciples that he needs to leave them so that the Holy Spirit can come, so they discover within themselves and in their midst what he has embodied and been for them.

I thought of this as I, with pride, watched my grandson take on the mantel of new responsibility, and doing so with the combination of patience and steadiness, and occasional bemusement, he has seen in his own parents.

When I was a young man and minister-in-training one of my best teachers told me something that was enormously reassuring at the time. He said that the qualities I admired in others were there, if not yet fully developed, in me. That was why, he said, I responded to those gifts in them. They weren’t gods on high, but mentors on a path I could and would travel, if in my own way.

I was then at a time of life when the clergy I most admired seemed to me so far beyond me in skill, character and wisdom, that I sometimes despaired of anything remotely similar. But, said this beloved teacher, there was more hidden, and awaiting development, within me than I knew or could imagine. It was a helpful word to a preacher just starting out.

And it seemed to be born out by the exchange of Jesus with his own disciples. It was not to say that they would replace him. No, but they, like my grandson, would rise to the occasion and discover their own gifts and capacity. Absence not only makes the heart grow fonder, it can make it larger and stronger.

I am now of an age when people tend to have one of two attitudes in relation to “today’s youth.” Either we complain about how inadequate and disappointing they are. Or we foist upon them all hope and responsibility for the future. “The kids are so great. They are the hope for tomorrow,” we intone piously. Both seem unwise.

What is useful for us to remember as we grow older is that those who are young now will step up. Moreover, a time comes for us to step aside so that this may happen.

How gratifying it is to me to see the little guy I knew as a toddler, one who took special delight in sailing partially consumed peas and blueberries across the room or totally emptying any drawer or cabinet he could pry open, now emerging as such a capable young man.