On Toxic Masculinity

Yesterday was Father's Day, and my family treated me very well.  There were several moments of reflection as it was the second Father's Day since my dad died, and I thought long and hard about how privileged I was to have had my dad.  

He taught me how to be a father.  It wasn't in classroom instruction or in long talks about what to do and what not to do with raising children, but it was with his actions; with his presence; with his discipline; with his forcing me to do things I didn't want to do.  It was the right amount of challenge and love.  It was pushing me beyond what I thought I could do.

I talked with my mom about one of those times.  We were reflecting on how old her house is.  They moved into it in 1980, and there are numerous things in need of repair.  But we reflected on when it was being built.  And while it was being constructed--a project that we did on our own--I had one of the  most traumatic experiences of my life.  Dad made me get on the roof.  

You can laugh all you want.  I don't care.  It scared the bejeezus out of me.  I'm five years old and terrified of heights.  Terrified.  Still get queazy.  Dad made me get up on the roof as we were installing the plywood decking.  I'm sitting up there crying my eyes out.  I want down.  My sister is up there having the time of her life while I'm white as a sheet.  Dad wouldn't let me down.  Dad made me stay up there.  He wouldn't let me down until I drove a nail in the plywood and hammered it into a stud.  Have you ever tried to swing a hammer while you were bawling your eyes out?  Bet you haven't.  It was one of the hardest things I ever did, but I did it.  And I got down off that roof as fast as my shaking legs would let me down that ladder.

A day or so later, dad had me get back on that roof.  Wasn't thrilled with the proposition.  Still scared.  But took a few steps.  Didn't shed any tears.  Tentatively made made my way around as decking was completed and tar paper was being nailed in place.

A day or so later, when shingles were being installed, dad had me up there once again.  This time, I helped out.  I was walking around the roof.   Progress.  

Now, I have no problem up on roofs.  I can manage it.  Even enjoy it.

Some would argue that dad shouldn't have done that to me.  They would say that he pushed me too hard and that I should have been allowed to go at my own pace.  You are entitled to your opinion.  My dad was doing something that needed to be done: he made me face my fears.  He made me overcome them.  He made me become more of a man--at five years old.  He made me find something important: courage.

I've had to call on that courage numerous times in my adult life.  It has helped me face situations that I otherwise might have cowered from--especially as a father.  Now, I am working to pass that same courage onto my children.  They aren't always happy about it, but they are learning.  And they are successfully facing things that they otherwise might have been willing to back away from if they hadn't had my influence.

Among some, what my dad did and what I am doing is called "toxic masculinity."  I don't find it particularly toxic.

Although, let me be clear, I do think there is such a thing as toxic masculinity.  I would prefer to call it immaturity, personally.  It's men who act like boys.  They treat others with disrespect and distain.  They will look at women as objects meant to fulfill their own sexual gratification.  They look down upon the weak and prey upon them.  They believe that rules do not apply to them, and they are inherently selfish.  That's toxic masculinity.

But here is the thing, at least from my perspective. The cure for toxic masculinity is not to make men feminine.  That's not what needs to be changed.  The noun does not need to be changed, the adjective does.  Instead of toxic masculinity, we need healthy masculinity.  

Femininity is not the opposite of masculinity.  They are complimentary.

Healthiness is the opposite of toxicity.  Plain and simple.

We need healthy masculinity.  The studies are bearing that out, and they have borne that out for decades.  Warren Farrell writes about it deeply in his book The Boy Crisis.  Christina Hoff Summers also corroborates in her book The War Against Boys.  They cite a plethora of studies that have been done on boys, men, and what the lack of fathers is doing in our society.  Even more studies have shown how religion has been affected by the rejection of positive masculinity.  

The world needs good men.  Men who are responsible.  Men who are willing to push others to do better than they thought they could otherwise.  Men who are strong and who make others stronger.  Men who teach courage.  Men who teach honor.  Men who teach respect.  

It's time to man up.

Arnold Schwarzenegger, Heaven, and the Reality of What He Said

 I saw the clickbait headlines, and I clicked.  

That's what they are there for, right? 

And when a famous movie star says that heaven is a fantasy and that those who say we won't get to be reunited with those who have died are effing liars...well, that makes news.

And, boy, was I formulating a response.  Was I ready to jump into the fray and hammer what was reportedly said.  I had it all laid out and ready to go.

But, the thing about clickbait headlines and the articles that follow is: they often are misleading.  They pull quotations out of their context and create a narrative that may or may not be true to the initial setting.

So, before I decided to open up with both barrels, I decided to search for the original commentary in Interview Magazine.  Please read it if you have not.  It is worthwhile if you are interested in this story as I am--particularly as a pastor, theologian, and someone who preaches the reality of heaven.

As I read through the interview, I see a man whose life experiences have led him to a place where it is natural to question the existence of heaven.  Just read about what Schwarzenegger's life was like in Austria.  The guy knows poverty.  He knows what it means to struggle.  He had to use an outhouse and dream of having music in his home.  (These are things that many of us in the U.S. have no clue--no friggin' clue--about.  

Schwarzenegger found a pathway out of that poverty through weight training, joining the military, obtaining his passport, and coming to the U.S.  He was given opportunity through the generosity and care of famous gym owners.  

Schwarzenegger recognizes that he is no self-made man.  He knows there were people who gave him breaks.  He knows there are people who helped him along the way.  The tribute he gives to these people is packed with emotion.

And he is grateful.  Extremely grateful for everything that he has.  From extreme poverty to absolute wealth, the contrast he has experienced in his life is amazing.  And here is the thing: if you take into account where he started to where he is now, he has passed from hell into heaven.  From a house with no electricity and no running water to sitting down with famous people, smoking Cuban cigars, able to buy whatever he wants.  How could it get any better for him?  I mean, really, how could it get any better?

He went from the lowest of low to achieving the highest possible position of power that he could achieve in the U.S.--as the governor of California; the highest possible position of fame--a Hollywood movie star who has been in multiple blockbuster movies; to one of the wealthiest people in the world.  What more is there to look forward to?  How could heaven possibly be better?

And that's likely why death scares him, in my opinion.

Arnold claims to be no spiritual expert, and that comes through in his conversation in the interview.  As I read it, he is wrestling back and forth with the concepts of nihilism, hope, spirituality, body, soul, and how it all might work out.  It's much more nuanced than many of the headlines and articles report.

And I am thankful for his wrestling.  I wish the news articles would have highlighted that more, and I'd love to have a conversation with Arnold regarding these matters.  It might be difficult to persuade him, but on the other hand, it might not be.

Because I would like to ask him what his perspective might be if he had never gotten out of Austria; if he had never become Mr. Universe and a movie star; if he had never achieved the status that he had achieved.  Would he be as enamored with this life now?  Would he think that there could be nothing better than this life?  How does he grapple with the billions of humans who never come close to experiencing the life he has?  How does he deal with the fact that millions upon millions of people never experience justice, satisfaction, fulfillment, and the like?  

Would he look at a mother and father who are burying their still born child and say that the person who tells them they will see their child again in heaven are liars? Would he tell them that the child is simply going to disintegrate, to get over it?  Would he say the same to a mother and father staring down into the casket looking at their daughter's body for what seems like an eternity, not wanting to close that casket because when they do, it rams home the reality that they will never see her dance, sing, or laugh again?  Would he look into the eyes of a widow or widower who has just lost their spouse of 50+ years and now has to think of what life will be like without that person; who wonders how they will move on and deny the existence of heaven?  Will he look down on a person suffering from cancer whose every breath is painful; who is wondering why this disease has come upon her and wondering if this is all that life has to offer; and say that someone telling them about heaven is an effing liar?

I don't think so.  I don't think he would at all.  He's mad that we die. That comes across plain and clear in his interview.  He doesn't want it to be that way.  He wants someone or something to blame.  But he also has no clear way to resolve these thoughts.  Intellectually, he is in a rough space.

He is not alone.  He's not the only person who wrestles with such things. Lots of people do.

Those of us who are Christians have a resolution to these problems: answers that have been passed down for over 2000 years.  They are still very good answers, but they are also best shared in person; face to face; over coffee, beer, lunch, dinner, and the like.  Not likely that any such meeting would ever take place between me and Arnold, but I have had those conversations numerous times.  Some of them took place with the examples I shared earlier--those weren't made up.  They were situations I found myself in as a pastor, and I cannot express how the Christian view empowered each and every one of them to face the days ahead with a sure and certain hope.  I hope Arnold has someone who can sit down with him and help him see it too.