It’s so easy for me to forget, sometimes, that virtue is not “the point” of life.
That feels like an abrupt intro. Let me back up a little.
Our goal in the Christian life is union with Christ. Everything we do ought to be a means to that end. Whatever suffering we endure, the Lord wants to bring good out of it so that we can be united with Him more intimately. If we are not seeking union with and conformity to Christ, we are missing the point.
Growing in virtue is both a means and a fruit of that union, but growing in virtue is not “the point” of the Christian life.
In the nitty gritty of parenting toddlers, I too often find myself focused primarily on behavior modification. Even when my intentions are well-ordered and my means of teaching are developmentally appropriate, I lose sight of the ultimate goal: the union of my children with Christ.
Yes, I want to teach my daughters to be polite. Yes, I want them to learn to apologize when they’ve hurt others. Yes, I want them to be cognizant of their emotions, their body, and their relationships.
But none of that is “the point”.
All of this parenting in the early years is preparatory work. We try to habituate them to virtuous behaviors because we know that those virtues will dispose them to receive grace more easily. We teach them to pray because we know that a consistent life of prayer will lead them to Christ. We bring them to Mass, teach them about God, and share the ways the Lord is working in our own lives because we know from experience, from the testimony of others, and from the lives of the Saints that this is how you introduce a child to God.
We are laying a foundation, and hopefully by the time our children reach the age of reason, and then again by the time they discern and enter their own vocations, that foundation has proved to be solid, albeit imperfect. We hope and pray that they will continue to grow in those virtues that we instilled in them as natural habits. We hope and pray that they will maintain a regular life of prayer as they grow in independence. We hope and pray that they will continue to attend Mass, continue to learn about God, and continue to see the Lord working in their lives.
We cannot pretend for a moment that the foundation we are laying is anything else.
A huge part of this work, for us as parents, is to do the work for ourselves as well. We try to grow in virtue ourselves by intentionally focusing on our actions, by setting structure in place to avoid temptation, and by asking others to hold us accountable. We try to retrain our responses, to root out vice where we see it, to pursue psychological and spiritual healing in areas where we are wounded. We know that this work, too, will bear fruit in ourselves, in our marriages, and in our children. Thirtyfold, sixtyfold, a hundredfold.
And yet, for all of this, we cannot let ourselves lose sight of the goal: Jesus Christ.
We cannot let ourselves separate virtue from Christ. When we do this, we limit our vision to the merely temporal, and we allow behavior to become an idol. It might be our own behavior, or the behavior of our spouse, or the behavior of our children. We spend all our efforts trying to change behavior for the sake of changing behavior, rather than because we recognize that our behavior is both the means and the fruit of our relationship with Christ. We think that our family will get fewer glares or snarky comments at Mass if our kids are more reverent. We think that our children will make more friends if they share more habitually. We think that they will get better jobs if they are diligent and self-managed. Detached from Christ, these behaviors are natural virtues, but they will not—indeed, cannot—grant us salvation.
In my own life, when I find myself too obsessed with behavior or “virtue” for its own sake—maybe I’m sick of moderating disputes over right to the doll strollers, maybe I think that doing the laundry more often will fix my chronic self-image issues, maybe I want James to read his book at a different time than the time he’s chosen—the reality is often that my prayer life is suffering.
Let me say that again: when I find myself too obsessed with behavior or “virtue” for its own sake, the reality is often that my prayer life is suffering.
When I realize this, it’s like my perspective flips upside down. I no longer see myself as the victim-hero, slick with sweat as I single-handedly scale the mountain of virtue, my family dangling behind me on bungee cords as I drag them along with me.
No.
I’m falling, quickly, absolutely out of control, grasping at any little rock that I think might be able to support my weight. I am seeking anything that will give me a sense of peace, of control, of stability.
When I reach the point of considering a daily habit list that would fill a full-page grid, I can usually notice (wow, so observant) that I’m grasping at control rather than receiving with open hands whatever it is the Lord wants to give me. But what would it look like to come to this realization sooner, before things feel truly dire?
What would it look like to focus first on a habit of daily and weekly prayer, without worrying about the rest?
But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.
- Matthew 6:33 ESV
I don’t want you to think that I’m throwing the baby out with the bathwater, as if virtue were all of the sudden unimportant to the conversations we have each week here at Whole and Holy. But I am learning to reconsider, in my own heart, the place of “virtue” and the role of behavior modification strategies, parenting skills, and other forms of relational “self-help”.
I know that I have made an idol out of these in the past. I have tried to draw on them as if they will solve my problems, cure my sufferings, heal my wounds. I have asked more of them than they are capable of bestowing. In short, I have tried to find salvation in places other than Christ and His Church.
The Lord made the body, and the body is good. The Lord made the body, and the body is intelligible. The Lord made the body, and I believe in the resurrection of the dead, the reunion of body and soul on the last day.
And so, I am learning to hold the tension. I am learning to keep in its place a merely-natural understanding of man, of child development, of relational psychology, of personal and interpersonal healing. All of these things are good, because they are created by God. All of these things are gifts from God, tools we can and ought to employ as we move through our lives.
But these things are not the goal.
Christ is the goal. Heaven is the goal.
And trying to pursue Christ without prayer is like trying to cross the desert without water. No matter how much gear you have, no matter how many tools you’ve packed, you’re not going to get very far.
What good have you allowed to become an idol in your own life? Do you also notice a struggle with this subtle idolatry when your prayer life suffers? How do you allow yourself to let go of the idol and cling to Christ, when doing so might feel like entering (or acknowledging) freefall?
A mom once shared, in talking about parenting young children into those good things you mention, how she literally prays with them during a hard time, showing how we can ask for help. It is so simple, but its a step I often forget - to invite them into the bigger picture through short prayers in the moment. We can *show* children what it looks like to keep in step with the Spirit and invite him in, even as their behavior (and ours) are being formed.
As a scrupulous person, this was wonderful to read.