The Trap of Cordiality

The Trap of Cordiality

“Jem and I found our father satisfactory: he played with us, read to us, and treated us with courteous detachment,” said Scout in the classic novel, To Kill A Mockingbird, by Harper Lee.[1] Scout’s description gave me pause. In our crass and quarrelsome culture, a little respect and good manners might go a long way. We need some good old-fashion cordiality.

But are there unintended consequences among polite types of people? I thought of religious circles or Christian families that strive to have love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, and self-control–under control at all times. Courteous detachment could be the kind of cordiality that keeps others at arm’s length.

Have you ever experienced that? I have. Maybe I’ve even done it to others!

Illustration depicting cutout printed letters arranged to form the words think before you speak.

In Marilynne Robinson’s moving story, Home, Jack, the black sheep of the family comes home to his dying father after twenty years. The father, a retired pastor, works hard to say all the right things, to give the benefit of the doubt, to believe the best, but there remains unimaginable tension in the atmosphere. The prodigal son is a sin-sick soul, looking for restoration. He wants to believe he can be a good man. The father wants him to “get saved.” They resort to polite conversation at first, bottling up their history of hurt and disappointment.

Deep wounds form when cordiality prevents real connection—maybe even more so than an outright fight.

Glory, the younger daughter in the story, has also returned to care for her father’s basic needs. She too is longing for healing within the family. She loves her wayward brother, Jack. All the other siblings seem to have perfect lives.

“(Glory’s) father told his children to pray for patience, for courage, for kindness, for clarity, for trust, for gratitude. Those prayers will be answered, he said. Others may not be…So she prayed again for patience, for tact, for understanding—for every virtue that might keep her safe from conflicts that would be sure to leave her wounded, every virtue that might at least help her preserve an appearance of dignity, for heaven’s sake. She did wonder what the neighbors thought…”[2]

Young lonely woman sitting in glass jarSafe from conflict…the appearance of dignity…what will the neighbors say?

I have come to believe these fears areContinue reading

Twelve Days

Twelve Days

There comes a time after listening and learning, when “doing” becomes all-important. I don’t know about you, but the last thing I need is another page of notes. If we don’t put anything to the test, how will we know if what we’ve learned is real? So for this last post of the year, I’m challenging you to take action.

One thing—each day—for twelve days.

Day 1 – Do something surprisingly generous. It doesn’t have to be monetary. It could be the gift of listening or sharing food. My friend Greg once went out of his way to deliver a box of donuts to a state government office—a place where the overworked staff were a little cranky. His simple gesture, so unexpected, changed the atmosphere!

Man on stormy beachDay 2 – Take a solitary walk and tell God your innermost thoughts. It helps if you can talk out loud. Tell Him your darkest, most hopeless, or cynical feelings. Tell Him what you’re afraid of—the future? Finances? Sickness? Death? Confess to Him your secret failures, your loneliness. Get it out in words and lay it all before Him. He can handle it. Then listen.

Hands in skyDay 3 – Take an hour to worship God. Not meaning church on Sunday. Pick a place where you can recline—a favorite chair, a hammock, a couch, a bed or even a floor. My granddaughter likes to lay under the Christmas tree. If you’re like me, let go of your driven holiday mindset. Pick your style of worship music and if you’re not alone, use earphones. I’m currently swept away by Ola Gjello’s Sunrise Mass. Though sung in Latin, the music is moving and sends me to heavenly places.

Day 4 – Ask God for a single word or phrase regarding your life at present. I remember feeling upset when my husband had to be away in Africa for two months. I asked God for a word of encouragement. The word “respite” came to mind. At first I thought, “re-SPITE”? Was it even a word? But the term, “RES-pite,” is in the dictionary and means an interval of rest. God reframed our time apart as a season to recharge, write, and enjoy some solitude. Any introvert would understand. Still it meant something to hear God’s take on it.Continue reading