The Pink Floyd Handbook on Parenting

The Pink Floyd Handbook on Parenting

I would like to talk about my favorite band, Pink Floyd. My Dad, who I am discovering has been the most influential person in my life, is the one responsible for turning me on to them. As I sat next to him and listened to Pink Floyd for much of my adolescent life, my brain was hardwired with the sounds of pure cool. The soothing guitars, tight kick drum and bass line, and entrancing vocal harmonies built in me a template against which I would measure all music even to this very day. The Dark Side of the Moon, Wish You Were Here, and The Wall have each spent a rather long tour of duty in my CD player, though I can't find any of them anywhere at the moment. : (

One thing that has always struck me about Pink Floyd is the existential nature of their lyrics. As a son and a father, I am deeply touched by "Mother" from The Wall, a song that presents a dialogue between a son and his mother which turns out to be sort of a commentary on the role of the family in shaping children. Here is the first half of the song:

Mother do you think they'll drop the bomb?
Mother do you think they'll like this song?
Mother do you think they'll try to break my balls?
Mother should I build the wall?
Mother should I run for president?
Mother should I trust the government?
Mother will they put me in the firing line?
Oooh is it just a waste of time?

It is the all too familiar need that all of us have to look to our parents to give us guidance and to explain this harsh world in which we live. Most of us initially trust that our parents both care about us and know what they are talking about. The mother responds:

Hush now baby, baby don't you cry
Mama's gonna make all of your nightmares come true
Mama's gonna put all of her fears into you
Mama's gonna keep you right here under her wing
She won't let you fly but she might let you sing
Mama's gonna keep baby cozy and warm
Oooh babe Oooh babe Oooh babe of course Mama's gonna help build the wall

This song speaks of "building the wall." That is, the dividing wall between all of us and the reality of the world we live in. The wall is created, perpetuated, and maintained in part by family, where children blindly trust their parents to guide them and give them explanations, and their parents pass down their own insecurities about the world and their place in it to their children. As parents we all want our children to be safe, and that's a good thing. But sometimes in our zeal to keep them from danger we are tempted to employ a scorched earth policy of sorts, where we keep our children from harm at all costs, even if it means "building the wall." A funny example of this happened when I was about 6 years old. I was with my Dad at the old gas station on the corner of University Drive and Fulton, and I mentioned to him how much I liked the smell of gasoline. His reply? "Don't smell that, it'll kill ya." Now I don't trace any real issues back to this one moment, and I wasn't scarred the rest of my life from it, and honestly it probably wasn't a real good idea for a 6 year old to be huffing gas, but it serves as a simplified illustration of the scorched earth policy of parenting. The wall created by such a policy, while keeping some danger out, lets other danger in, or rather fails to recognize just exactly where the real danger lies. Dictating behavior through formulaic answers and rules might keep our kids from doing certain things and experiencing certain kinds of pain, but it doesn't really deal with the root of their fears and insecurities. In the illustration, the problem wasn't necessarily with the gasoline, but with my wanting so badly to sniff it.

In church circles, many think that if they can send their kids to Christian camps, have them go to church 5 nights a week, and listen to Michael W. Smith (dated reference, sorry), that they will not be the nasty little sinners that everyone else's kids are. They might even have a great theological grasp of inborn sin, but think that their kids will somehow become holy through spiritual osmosis. Of course there is nothing wrong with Christian camps, going to church, or Christian music, but many parents do not understand the situation properly.

The problem is not outside, but inside, and by that I don't mean inside the family (though the family does help to perpetuate it), but inside the heart of every human being. It is the natural rebellion against God that exists inside each of us. And since that rebellion alienates us from God, we are also not rightly related to the world that He has created. What happened to Adam and Eve as soon as they sinned? Their eyes were opened. They realized they were naked, and they were ashamed. Why were they ashamed? Because they were no longer rightly related to their creator, and therefore to each other. Where truth and life once abounded, spiritual and physical death now reigned. Where fulfillment was once found in God, emptiness and vanity now existed. Where they once experienced peace because they were in a right relationship with God and each other, anger and hostility now lurked beneath the skin because they had become enemies. In other words, they had built a wall.

Their initial response was to immediately cover up their shame with leaves. It was humanity's first attempt at religion. But it did not work. For the problem was not in their being naked, but in the sin that bore a hole of insecurity between each other and God. The Almighty had different plans, taking two animals and slaying them, and using their skins to clothe the offenders. God showed them (and us) that sin cannot be simply covered up by our own sense of what will do the job. It is much worse, much deeper than that. Sin causes death, but instead of killing Adam and Eve, He chose to kill something in their place, a substitution that would act as a scapegoat for their wrongdoings.

Many parents are happy with fig leaves for their children. After all, they do a certain job of covering things up. More than anything it comes from the assumption that humans, especially children, are basically good. As a result, they apply tactics that cover up nakedness, but do not deal with what really lies beneath. They build cozy little walls, like the mother in the song, and while this may help them sleep a little better at night, it is not dealing with the real issue.

The greatest service we can do for our children is to treat them like sinners. Let me qualify a few things. This does not mean we don't adore them. It does not mean that we cast them out from our presence. It does mean that we love them as God loved us, unconditionally and sacrificially, for "while we were yet sinners, Christ died for the ungodly." To treat our kids like sinners is not to judge them but to give them the right perspective that the problem does not lie on the outside, but within their very hearts. Outside problems must be dealt with, to be sure, but we must realize that they come from individuals cut from the same sinful cloth. Our children must have the right perspective that all is not well, that they are not alright, and that they are not basically good, for if they don't, when they are attacked by others, they will say, "I am righteous and they are not.'" No. The truth is, no one is righteous, only God is, and both parties are in need of reconciliation with Him.

The good news is that God has taken care of that reconciliation. We can put our fig leaves down. What He did for Adam and Eve was a precursor to what He would do for humanity through His own son, Jesus Christ. By trusting in this sacrifice, we accept God's offer of salvation, because the cross of Christ accomplished what our own fig leaves could not, namely, the sufficient and perfect payment for our sins.

We must equip our children to live freely beyond the protection of the wall. As we parent our children, we are pointing them to their own need for this forgiveness instead of telling them that everyone else is screwed up. If our kids understand who they really are, then they will find that they don't need a wall. Why? Because as sinners saved by God's grace they will be able to extend that same grace to other sinners. This puts parenting in a whole new perspective. Rules become loving guidelines designed to keep our children from obvious or immediate harm or instruct them toward a relationship with God, not to cut them off from the harsh realities of the world in exchange for a few seconds (or years) of comfort.

I know my kids might be hurt, and it pains me to think about it. I know that people will lie to them, manipulate them, hate them, or tear them down. They may even do this themselves. But my strategy is not to keep them from this by locking them in the house; instead I will equip them to handle it. Not by sword, not by insult, not with the fistacuffs, not with sarcasm, not with anger or rage, but with humble graciousness, like Jesus. As Christians, we are called to take risks, to love radically, to transform the world through serving, and to be salt and light. We are strangers and aliens on this earth, and we have the great privilege of showing a hurting world the great wonders of God. It is nasty out there, but our God is with us, even until the end of the age.