As
I mentioned in last week’s post, we all go through life transitions. Some of us
go through numerous transitions. Birth, moving into the teenage years, turning
eighteen and being considered an “adult,” being old enough to drive, graduating
from high school, turning 21 and, once again, and being considered an “adult”
with new privileges, like drinking.
Then
there might be that first “real” job, college graduation, marriage, kids, etc.
What
my husband and I found is that in Western Civilization, there are few real,
significant “rights of passages” that remain. They’ve all been carved out of
our “enlightened” society or done away with for some unknown reason, or considered
to belong to a different class of society.
What
sociologists and communication specialists have discovered though is that these
rights of passages are critical to a person’s growth and individual
development. They’re also critical to society’s development and identity and
inclusiveness.
It
was no less so in the Bible. And my husband Chris and I thought it was
important to reinstate some of them in our family. Even if the world around us
thought we’d gone somewhat batty.
About
fourteen years ago, the Lord started laying on my heart the idea of having a
right of passage ceremony for our oldest son, Parker, when he turned thirteen,
much like a Bar Mitzvah that Jewish boys go through at that age. After speaking
to Chris, we became convinced (and determined) that we should do something like
that for our boys. Only I didn’t know how to begin the process and thought we’d
be creating something new, from scratch. That’s when the Lord led me to a man
named Craig Hill, who, with his wife Jan were in leadership to Family
Foundations International. He focused on studying and returning to God’s
ancient paths noted in the Bible, and one such path was having a right of
passage ceremony. He’d even published a book called: Bar Barakah: A Parent’s Guide to a Christian Bar Mitzvah. In
Christian circles, the ceremony would be translated as “Son of the Blessing”
rather than “Son of the Law.” We bought the book and delved in.
To
make a very long story (one that could make up a blog on its own) short, Parker
went through two years of spiritual preparation in a variety of areas, like a
Jewish boy preparing for his Bar Mitzvah. It was a formal way—complete with a
formal church ceremony and large reception—for him to feel, and be invited and
accepted into full membership into the male religious community. It didn’t
necessarily mean that he would be considered a “man” in the true sense of the
word, but that he had entered that world and exited the more feminine,
protected world of his mother. It was to help him establish his male identity. Cory
prepared for and enjoyed a Bar Barakah of his own for his thirteenth birthday.
The
events had profound affects on both boys. It was a milestone for Parker who
proclaimed that he knew without a doubt that he was important, and loved, and
knew that his life had meaning and purpose. I think the significance and memory
of it buoyed him up through the toughest parts of adolescence. The memory of
uttered vows still guides his actions today.
But
a study of Scripture also led us to the belief that God had a different age of
true adulthood and “accountability” in mind. While our society considers 18 to
be the magical age of adulthood, whereby a male can be inducted into the army
and learn how to engage in formal warfare, and vote for a nation’s leaders, and
21 to be the real age when adulthood suddenly “happens” and you can drink
legally to your heart’s content, 20 seems to be the age when God looks upon a
person and says, “Your brain has developed enough where you can be considered
accountable for all of your best and worst decisions, without being able to
hide behind your parent’s apron strings.” (Something to that effect, anyway.)
Twenty
was the age in Israel (in the Old Testament) when Israel’s young men could, and
would serve in Israel’s army. It was also generally considered a number of
completion, as well as the age where a man of the Tribe of Levi (a Levite)
would be considered old enough to enter into temple service. (Although the age
of 30 is usually the more important age for service there.)
Significantly,
it was the cutoff age the Lord uses when Israel refused to enter the Promised
Land out of fear, even though the Lord had told them to enter and conquer it,
with His guidance and help. Because of their subsequent distrust and rebellion,
the Lord said that those 20 years old and above would not be allowed to enter the Land; that they and their children
would have to wander around the wilderness for 40 years, and die out there,
instead of entering in. Their children would have to suffer with the wandering
around, too, but the children would eventually be able to enter the Land and
receive the blessings their parents were denied. They just had to wait 40 years
to receive the blessing. The oldest ones who entered would have been 59. Not the
greatest or ripest age at which to be to receive that kind of blessing. But all
of the complainers and naysayers would be gone. (Just goes to show you how your
parent’s bad behavior can negatively affect you. And how your ill-spoken words
can get you, and your family, into a mess of long-lasting trouble and
heartache.)
The
passage in Numbers 14:26-35 reads:
“And
the LORD spoke to Moses and Aaron, saying, ‘How long shall I bear with this
evil congregation who complain against Me? I have heard the complaints which
the children of Israel make against Me. Say to them, ‘As I live,’ says the
LORD, ‘just as you have spoken in My hearing, so I will do to you: the
carcasses of you who have complained against Me shall fall in this wilderness,
all of you who were numbered, according to your entire number, from twenty
years old and above. Except for Caleb the son Jephunneh and Joshua the son of
Nun, you shall by no means enter the land which I swore I would make you dwell
in. but your little ones, whom you said would be victims, I will bring in, and
they shall know the land which you have despised. But as for you, your
carcasses shall fall in this wilderness. And your sons shall be shepherds in
the wilderness forty years, and bear the brunt of your infidelity, until your
carcasses are consumed in the wilderness. According to the number of the days
in which you spied out the land, forty days, for each day you shall bear your
guilt one year, namely forty years, and you shall know My rejection. I the LORD
have spoken this. I will surely do so to all this evil congregation who are
gathered together against Me. In this wilderness they shall be consumed, and
there they shall die.’”
Pretty rough to read, isn’t it? To be punished
for unbelief, complaining, distrust and rebellion. Only Caleb and Joshua—who
would go on to succeed Moses as leader over Israel—were spared, because they
were the only two of the twelve spies who trust God and begged the children of
Israel to trust Him and enter in and gain the victory He had promised them.
They were older than 20 and received the blessing. Each one became accountable
for his actions.
And
so it was that Chris and I recognized Parker on his 20th, and then
Cory on his 20th at the end of last month. Chris and I (Parker is
studying at a college out of state and could not be there) treated Cory to an
elaborate dinner at a five star restaurant overlooking the city and gave him a
special commemorative gift (the kind he’d hang on to forever and pass down to
his children) as well as a couple of items focused on his interests and life
goals at this stage of his life. Letters and special notes were written to him,
signifying his maturity and growth and responsibility before the Lord; his
increase before Him and our decrease.
Our
boys know that they now stand vulnerable and responsible before the Lord; and
they take that responsibility very seriously. They know we’ll have their backs
if they need us, but we are to continue our decrease, while they increase; and
we are to reduce our freewheeling wisdom and advice giving in order to let them
stand more securely in wisdom and discernment. And what’s funny is that they
tend to come to us more often for advice now, I think because they feel more
like peers and less like children before us, more respected and honored. We
Lord our distinguished adulthood over them less often and become more
vulnerable before them ourselves. We are an intensely close family on all
levels. And even though Parker is thousands of miles away, he still meets with Chris
and Cory weekly, via modern technology for “breakfast” and Bible study and good
old fashion guy time. It’s a tradition that’s been going on since 2008, and the
three of them wouldn’t give it up for the world. It binds them together as
family, and as men.
And
that’s what all of that ritual and right of passage stuff was about and meant
to instill. We no longer hand our kids a spear and send them off into the
jungle alone to kill their dinner and survive the return, but we need to do
something besides hand them a high school diploma, “tell” them they’re now “adults”
and boot them out the door.
It
won’t be the last right of passage for our family. Parker’s engaged and will
soon enter into another right of passage when he becomes one with his chosen
beloved. And then we’ll probably recognize him at thirty, when a man’s really
supposed to hit his peak. And we’ll do the same for Cory.
If
you’ve been with me for my entire story, you can imagine the joy, pride and
deep feelings of gratefulness I experienced on Cory’s 20th birthday,
when my memory snapped back 20+ years to my tenuous pregnancy with him and his
miraculous birth and survival. To see what God has done with him through these
years and how He has worked in him to produce the man he has become. It was a
sweet moment I tried to absorb like a sponge. I just sat at the table and
stared at him, absorbed in his strength, his humility, his energy, his
enthusiasm for life, and his joy. I pondered it all in my heart. And I was
well-pleased.
Amazing
things occur when you’re obedient to God’s call, even when it goes against the
world’s wisdom, they’re laughing at you, and you feel like a salmon swimming
upstream.
My
cup of blessing was overflowing.
And
it was, and is, good.
___________________________________
NEXT WEEK: I’ll be on hiatus for the
next two weeks—to ponder life and enjoy some needed respite time with my
family. Then I’ll start that new series on grief on April 6.
___________________________________
So, until then,
Thanks for joining me!
Blessings,
Andrea
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