Seneca's Medea is a story that's been running through my mind the past few days. In it, Medea murders her own children in order to inflict the maximum amount of pain on Jason, her husband, that she can -- despite the fact that killing them also deprives her of their love, something that, itself, is redemptive in the ways she needs, moreso than the pain she wants to inflict on Jason. Punishment accomplished, she feels her dignity and self-respect restored.
Medea's story is all too familiar. Few betrayed spouses murder their children to hurt their betrayer, but many certainly aim to inflict pain, and these efforts often have heavy collateral damages. Even when self-restraint prevents the enactment of anger's wishes, ill-will seethes, just hoping for some bad outcome for the wrongdoer and his new family. And so often that ill-will sneaks out after all, in litigation, in subtle deflection of children's affections, or maybe only in an unwillingness to trust men again, which Medea herself certainly experiences.
Thing is, culturally, she's supposed to be right. People -- and women especially -- should stand up for themselves, especially in the face of abusive relationships. They owe it to their self-respect to be tough and uncompromising. Maybe, just maybe, if the wrongdoer grovels enough and apologizes well enough, some restoration might be possible -- or not. Because, let's admit it, sometimes forgiveness is the best you get and you have to move on.
I used to believe all that. But lately, I'm not so sure.
I'm not sure because, what happens when the "intimate relationship" that's been damaged isn't between a husband and wife, but between a parent and child?
Let's be honest: The relationship between a parent and child isn't like most other intimate relationships. Most relationships we choose out of love. But relationships between parent and child, if they're like marriages at all, are like arranged marriages, in that neither chose the other. But parent-child relationships (like arranged marriages) develop relational habits over time; there are shared experiences between parent and child that create the context within which the relationship takes its meaning (both remember trips, jokes, conversations, birthdays, other holidays, all sorts of shared formative experiences, and of course the sheer physical intimacy itself of early nursing and cradling, later hugging and sheer physical proximity). And, supposedly, parents love their children -- especially their child's body.
All close relationships have a sense of helplessness. That's particularly true for the relationship of parent to child. When children are very small, parents, most of the time, can make sure they are fed, and sheltered, and educated. But the more independent children become -- and of course that's usually a good thing -- the more complete the parent's helplessness becomes, since no amount of advice or persuasion can really control the outcome, even in ways that are highly desirable and good.
This is usually that point at which children make their parents mad. That's because, well, again, let's be honest: Children are unruly and rude. They get disobedient and lazy. They don't do their homework, they don't help out with chores around the house, and they do any number of other things that are just flat-out wrong: Children lie, cheat, steal, break promises, and even bully other children (remember when you were on the playground in grade school? yeah, that ...). Anger will inevitably play a part in every parent's relationship with a child. Sometimes it even plays a significant role in a parent's relationship with a child (especially if children take to really hard-core habits like breaking the law).
But here's the thing: The relationship of parent and child plays a significant role in the development of both as persons. For parents, they usually want and deeply love their children. For children, parents are sources of life, nourishment, health and security, of education, values and support -- financial and emotional. Those are good things. They help us live lives that are directed toward the future. That is, parenting and childing are both practices that are grounded in hope.
The trust that goes into growing such hope is multiform and is itself organic. When our children are babies they have no say in trust -- they rely on parents totally, for daily survival of their very bodies. Another way of saying that, of course, is that children have a kind of natural trustingness, which leads them to bond with parents. Unless there's serious neglect or abuse.
Yeah, there it is. That last phrase. Unless there's serious neglect or abuse. Trustingness evolves over time for most children. For some, though, tragically, they get stuck. They learn quite quickly what they can and can't expect from their parents. While some children learn habits of confidence and gratitude, those children who are raised in the context of serious neglect and abuse learn not to trust others.
Sure, there's an element of learning not to trust that's essential to "growing up", but when at every turn children learn not to trust the ones on whom they rely for very essential things -- like caring for their bodies and spirits -- well, growing up just stops.
Thing is, that's not true for parents. When a parent entrusts a child with something, it's not because they rely on the child. It's because parents know that developing the habits of trust are good for children as they grow. Young children -- but even children into adolescents -- rely on parents.
In other words, trusting children is strategic; trusting parents is essential. In strategic trust, when a person doesn't meet that trust, we get angry -- but the anger is not of the sort that's grounded in who the person is. It's grounded in the fact that the person isn't growing into who we know they can and should be. On the flip side, when parents become untrustworthy, children ground the anger in who they are.
Let that sink in for a minute.
Children, from neglectful and abusive familial relationships, learn to be angry as a part of their nature, because of the ways in which parents have failed in their trustingness.
Anger is "well grounded" when it develops apart from any payback idea. You know exactly what they other person has done, it was wrong, and the magnitude of that damage is clear. That was Aristotle's point about anger in his Ethics. It's something worth being intensely concerned about, and you can be clear that you aren't out to inflict punishment but restoration. This is where anger between parent and child, particularly in neglectful and abusive contexts, goes wrong.
Do we owe it to ourselves to get angry and therefore be uncompromising? That surely is the way our culture wants to think. But I think that's wrong. That's because anger in intimate relationships, especially when it's uncompromising, is nothing more than a narcissistic "dance" in which one indulges at the price of not trying to figure out what the real problems are.
Breakdowns in intimate relationships involve a lot of grief -- and grief has to be dealt with in order not to fester into an anger that remains unresolved. Grief in broken relationships between parents and children is understandable. There's nothing wrong with it, just as there's nothing wrong with the anger that results in them for children who've been abused. I get it. And I think it's warranted.
But here's the thing: The relationship between parent and child is a good relationship. It matters. But grief, and the helplessness it typically brings with it, are usually not well addressed by allowing anger to take center stage. All too often, anger becomes an alluring substitute for grieving, promising agency and control when the real situation one is in does not offer control.
The way to deal with grief is mourning and eventually the constructive forward-looking hope to repair and pursue one's life.
This is where forgiveness comes in. Thing is, forgiveness can't mask retaliation and still be genuine forgiveness. While a child's anger signals a real problem in the relationship between parent and child, it isn't reliable to ground hope in the future. Anger can motivate action -- to remove the suffering and neglect -- but more often than not it becomes a sort of negative ground out of which nothing grows. Anger, for these children, leads to inactivity.
This is why forgiveness must be the positive ground out of which something more than anger grows. When forgiveness is aimed at growth and the future -- when it is a practice of hope -- it becomes useful.
Sometimes, forgiveness, though, must take the form of "handing over to Satan" the one who has offended. Ultimately, that is a hopeful practice, because it allows the offending party to endure the wrath of their own actions. And come to a change of the habits that create abuse and neglect. In other words, they convert.
That's the goal of all forgiveness. "Amendment of life" is the old phrase. The practice of "handing over to Satan" is ultimately a restorative practice -- because it means to grieve the wrong done, and allowing the offending party to understand those wrongs in themselves.
This practice of "handing over to Satan" isn't something we normally associate with parent-child relationships, though. We typically think of maintaining the relationship for the good it is, rather than honestly naming the lack of trust, grief and anger that have resulted. But of what good is a relationship of a parent and child when that suffering is one-sided, stunted for the children? How is that a "good"?
I'm not calling to cut parents out of the lives of neglected and abused children -- that's a narcissism that our culture would call for -- but I do believe that sometimes the only good to come is to grieve the pain and allow the abusive and neglectful parent to go the way of abuse and neglect in order to create a more-positive ground for trustingness and hope to grow.
Medea's story is all too familiar. Few betrayed spouses murder their children to hurt their betrayer, but many certainly aim to inflict pain, and these efforts often have heavy collateral damages. Even when self-restraint prevents the enactment of anger's wishes, ill-will seethes, just hoping for some bad outcome for the wrongdoer and his new family. And so often that ill-will sneaks out after all, in litigation, in subtle deflection of children's affections, or maybe only in an unwillingness to trust men again, which Medea herself certainly experiences.
Thing is, culturally, she's supposed to be right. People -- and women especially -- should stand up for themselves, especially in the face of abusive relationships. They owe it to their self-respect to be tough and uncompromising. Maybe, just maybe, if the wrongdoer grovels enough and apologizes well enough, some restoration might be possible -- or not. Because, let's admit it, sometimes forgiveness is the best you get and you have to move on.
I used to believe all that. But lately, I'm not so sure.
I'm not sure because, what happens when the "intimate relationship" that's been damaged isn't between a husband and wife, but between a parent and child?
Let's be honest: The relationship between a parent and child isn't like most other intimate relationships. Most relationships we choose out of love. But relationships between parent and child, if they're like marriages at all, are like arranged marriages, in that neither chose the other. But parent-child relationships (like arranged marriages) develop relational habits over time; there are shared experiences between parent and child that create the context within which the relationship takes its meaning (both remember trips, jokes, conversations, birthdays, other holidays, all sorts of shared formative experiences, and of course the sheer physical intimacy itself of early nursing and cradling, later hugging and sheer physical proximity). And, supposedly, parents love their children -- especially their child's body.
All close relationships have a sense of helplessness. That's particularly true for the relationship of parent to child. When children are very small, parents, most of the time, can make sure they are fed, and sheltered, and educated. But the more independent children become -- and of course that's usually a good thing -- the more complete the parent's helplessness becomes, since no amount of advice or persuasion can really control the outcome, even in ways that are highly desirable and good.
This is usually that point at which children make their parents mad. That's because, well, again, let's be honest: Children are unruly and rude. They get disobedient and lazy. They don't do their homework, they don't help out with chores around the house, and they do any number of other things that are just flat-out wrong: Children lie, cheat, steal, break promises, and even bully other children (remember when you were on the playground in grade school? yeah, that ...). Anger will inevitably play a part in every parent's relationship with a child. Sometimes it even plays a significant role in a parent's relationship with a child (especially if children take to really hard-core habits like breaking the law).
But here's the thing: The relationship of parent and child plays a significant role in the development of both as persons. For parents, they usually want and deeply love their children. For children, parents are sources of life, nourishment, health and security, of education, values and support -- financial and emotional. Those are good things. They help us live lives that are directed toward the future. That is, parenting and childing are both practices that are grounded in hope.
The trust that goes into growing such hope is multiform and is itself organic. When our children are babies they have no say in trust -- they rely on parents totally, for daily survival of their very bodies. Another way of saying that, of course, is that children have a kind of natural trustingness, which leads them to bond with parents. Unless there's serious neglect or abuse.
Yeah, there it is. That last phrase. Unless there's serious neglect or abuse. Trustingness evolves over time for most children. For some, though, tragically, they get stuck. They learn quite quickly what they can and can't expect from their parents. While some children learn habits of confidence and gratitude, those children who are raised in the context of serious neglect and abuse learn not to trust others.
Sure, there's an element of learning not to trust that's essential to "growing up", but when at every turn children learn not to trust the ones on whom they rely for very essential things -- like caring for their bodies and spirits -- well, growing up just stops.
Thing is, that's not true for parents. When a parent entrusts a child with something, it's not because they rely on the child. It's because parents know that developing the habits of trust are good for children as they grow. Young children -- but even children into adolescents -- rely on parents.
In other words, trusting children is strategic; trusting parents is essential. In strategic trust, when a person doesn't meet that trust, we get angry -- but the anger is not of the sort that's grounded in who the person is. It's grounded in the fact that the person isn't growing into who we know they can and should be. On the flip side, when parents become untrustworthy, children ground the anger in who they are.
Let that sink in for a minute.
Children, from neglectful and abusive familial relationships, learn to be angry as a part of their nature, because of the ways in which parents have failed in their trustingness.
Anger is "well grounded" when it develops apart from any payback idea. You know exactly what they other person has done, it was wrong, and the magnitude of that damage is clear. That was Aristotle's point about anger in his Ethics. It's something worth being intensely concerned about, and you can be clear that you aren't out to inflict punishment but restoration. This is where anger between parent and child, particularly in neglectful and abusive contexts, goes wrong.
Do we owe it to ourselves to get angry and therefore be uncompromising? That surely is the way our culture wants to think. But I think that's wrong. That's because anger in intimate relationships, especially when it's uncompromising, is nothing more than a narcissistic "dance" in which one indulges at the price of not trying to figure out what the real problems are.
Breakdowns in intimate relationships involve a lot of grief -- and grief has to be dealt with in order not to fester into an anger that remains unresolved. Grief in broken relationships between parents and children is understandable. There's nothing wrong with it, just as there's nothing wrong with the anger that results in them for children who've been abused. I get it. And I think it's warranted.
But here's the thing: The relationship between parent and child is a good relationship. It matters. But grief, and the helplessness it typically brings with it, are usually not well addressed by allowing anger to take center stage. All too often, anger becomes an alluring substitute for grieving, promising agency and control when the real situation one is in does not offer control.
The way to deal with grief is mourning and eventually the constructive forward-looking hope to repair and pursue one's life.
This is where forgiveness comes in. Thing is, forgiveness can't mask retaliation and still be genuine forgiveness. While a child's anger signals a real problem in the relationship between parent and child, it isn't reliable to ground hope in the future. Anger can motivate action -- to remove the suffering and neglect -- but more often than not it becomes a sort of negative ground out of which nothing grows. Anger, for these children, leads to inactivity.
This is why forgiveness must be the positive ground out of which something more than anger grows. When forgiveness is aimed at growth and the future -- when it is a practice of hope -- it becomes useful.
Sometimes, forgiveness, though, must take the form of "handing over to Satan" the one who has offended. Ultimately, that is a hopeful practice, because it allows the offending party to endure the wrath of their own actions. And come to a change of the habits that create abuse and neglect. In other words, they convert.
That's the goal of all forgiveness. "Amendment of life" is the old phrase. The practice of "handing over to Satan" is ultimately a restorative practice -- because it means to grieve the wrong done, and allowing the offending party to understand those wrongs in themselves.
This practice of "handing over to Satan" isn't something we normally associate with parent-child relationships, though. We typically think of maintaining the relationship for the good it is, rather than honestly naming the lack of trust, grief and anger that have resulted. But of what good is a relationship of a parent and child when that suffering is one-sided, stunted for the children? How is that a "good"?
I'm not calling to cut parents out of the lives of neglected and abused children -- that's a narcissism that our culture would call for -- but I do believe that sometimes the only good to come is to grieve the pain and allow the abusive and neglectful parent to go the way of abuse and neglect in order to create a more-positive ground for trustingness and hope to grow.