On Fatherhood

I am a father.

That is a mind-blowing thought. I have a direct role in bringing other people to life: both at the initial spark of their creation, and in the fullness of their human development. And of course the role of their mother - my wife - is of supreme importance. But she has her role, and I have mine. While I certainly honour and cherish her for her contribution to our children’s existence, as Father’s Day approaches I find my thoughts dwelling on what it means to be a father.

One of the troubling trends of our time is the breaking of the holistic connection between the seen and the unseen; the material and the spiritual; the body and the soul. The Jedi Master Yoda furthered society’s descent into this dualistic fracturing in 1980’s The Empire Strikes Back when he said, “Luminous beings are we, not this crude matter.” I have to object to this dangerous thought, especially as it pertains to fatherhood. When the “crude matter” of biology is separated from parenting, its results are grievous.

Having tossed this polarizing statement out there, it feels necessary to acknowledge the many exceptional situations in today’s iterations of families, too numerous to catalogue here. But these prove the rule rather than dispelling it.

For it is undeniable that generally speaking, good adults come from good parents. I submit that a good father is one who retains the coherence of his biological contribution with his familial one. The initial gift of self of the champion sperm must remain united with an ongoing gift of self of the champion man. This isn’t just sentimental 1950s nostalgia; this is truth, as reasoned in social and evolutionary sciences (and by divine revelation, if science isn’t enough).

And that’s the hard part. This is where I fail, time and time again. For I am imperfect, as was my father before me. I am far from a champion man; I carry all the wounds of my own human formation - both those within my control and those I had no say in. It is a daily struggle to rise above these towards the perfect gift of self I have posited here. Sometimes I think that my gametes are outperforming me, for they have fulfilled their destiny perfectly, and I am here barely surviving each day, wracked with worry over how my failures as a father will affect my children through their whole lives.

And yet, I keep trying, for all those moments of insecurity and self-doubt are eclipsed by one instance of my three-year-old excitedly rushing to the door to give me a hug when I return home from work. Love, indeed, covers a multitude of sins.