It may be that there never has been a time when the archetypes of the mature masculine (or the mature feminine) were dominant in human life. It seems that we as a species live under the curse of infantilism - and maybe always have. Thus patriarchy is really "puerarchy" (i.e., the rule of boys), and perhaps our human world has always resembled Golding's Island. But at least there used to be structures and systems - rituals - for evoking a greater level of masculine maturity than seems to be the rule in our antisystem, antiritual, antisymbol world today. At least there were at one time sacred kings, upon whom the men in the realm could project their inner King and thus activate this masculine energy from indirectly in themselves. Certainly, for both good and ill, there was a time when the Warrior energy was active and effective in shaping the lives of men and the civilizations they built. And, though always the prerogative of only a few, the Magician was available to help individual men with their life problems, and to gain for the society some control over the unpredictable world of nature. And the Lover was also held in high regard in the cultures that celebrated seers and prophets, cave painters, and poets.

All that is changed now, cashed in for personal wealth and self-aggrandizement, the currency of the day. Yet ours is a world that needs the masculine energies in their maturity more urgently than ever before in history. It is a strange irony that at the very moment when all of civilization seems to be nearing its greatest initiation ever - from a fragmented, tribal way of life to a more whole, more universal life - that just a that moment, the ritual processes for turning boys into men have all but disappeared from the planet. Just a the time, when it is necessary for survival that immaturity be replaced by maturity - that boys become men and girls become women, that grandiosity be replaced with true greatness - that we are thrown back upon our own inner resources as men, struggling toward a wiser future or ourselves and our world pretty much alone. Maybe this is as it should be. The evolutionary process has placed the powerful resource of the four masculine archetypes within every man and has called upon them in different periods of human history to solve difficult problems and to dare the unthinkable - to organize laws out of chaos, to stimulate enormous outpourings of creativity and generativity (like those that produced early civilizations), to gain some capacity to steward nature, both inner and outer, and to arouse tender appreciation and relatedness. Perhaps this growth process of our species has also arranged for the radical internalizing and psychologizing of these forces in modern men. (pp. 143 - 144.)

I am well aware that many people grew up with a father who was violent, or distant, or both, a father caught in "boy" energy. They have no use for a celebration of fathers. Some of us feel the same way about our mothers. I suspect many of these people stayed home today, rather than relive the pain of those trying childhoods.

All too many adults have never really grown up past the pains of their childhood and claimed their own mature power. And the extension of adolescence and the growth of a sense of entitlement in much of our society only compounds the problems we face of greed, violence, and victimhood. We have learned these ways of being all too well and had few models for other, healthier, more mature ways to live our lives, ways that enrich the lives of us all.

So I have chosen Father's Day as a point of challenge for all of us: male, female, and those who find our identification unpolarized, to move past our immaturity, to grasp firm hold of our unique gifts and powers, and to become generative elements for the greater good of all.

My own father was not the norm for his generation. He would have been 83 this past February, a child of the Depression and World War II. A deep introvert, he did not socialize easily until he was well into his sixties. Still, he gave his six children a bath every night and told us stories, improvised in the style of Dr. Seuss. Once a daughter reached her 12th birthday, she got a shopping trip and a dinner out with him for each birthday until we left for college or marriage. For the life of me, I can't recall what he did with the boys, but I know it was something. I adored and feared him until the dinners started, then I got to see a gentler side of him that warmed my heart - and still does. He always let me have the least flowery dress, despite my Mother's urgings to do otherwise. He listened to me.

Now, he was not perfect, and reflected his times in not supporting my desire to become a surgeon with the usual arguments that I would not use my education once I married and had children. Still, he clearly cared for me and all the rest of us. When my sister, Robin, asked him why he had six children, he said he wanted more people to love. I shall never forget that either. I am grateful I had a father, one who was around the house and helped make the home, including spending a day and a fifth of Scotch replacing a kitchen sink - with colorful language to aid the process.

No one's parents are perfect, father or mother. Though we would often like it otherwise, no adult has the powers or the presence to read our minds and respond exactly as we would wish. This is a good thing, for we learn we must respond to difference, even in our homes. Perhaps one of the greatest gifts a parent can give is to encourage resilience in response to those disappointments that must naturally come from our differences. If we could learn to fight fair, to respond to conflict with true give and take, resilience might become more the norm in more of our families.

We need to remember that neither our fathers nor our mothers had perfect role models upon which to base their parenting. Alice Miller reminds us that most of the parenting we experienced was what we now understand to be abusive - not intentionally, but simply because that was the norm. "Spare the rod, spoil the child!" It was what our parents knew.

Not only do we have few good role models for parenting, gender was - and still is - so polarized, roles so ossified, that neither fathers nor mothers felt comfortable in their own ways of being. I will never forget seeing the conflict in my father's eyes when he was coerced by my mother into punishing me physically for something he thought was actually unimportant. It seemed he hit me harder out of his own sense of guilt about his feelings, as they were in conflict with my mother's. He really did not care if I scrubbed the whole downstairs floor with steel wool and Babbo every Friday before going out to do anything on my own. That was obvious.

So, my first point is that Fathers are very important, whether they teach by words or example, whether they are good role models or bad, whether they are present or absent, because they model living. And every man in a child's life has the potential to serve as a father.

So what does a good example look like? How does one serve as a good example of healthy male behavior? Here we turn more specifically to the work of Robert Moore, whose studies directly influenced the more well-known Robert Bly.

. . . We have said that there is no use asking ourselves if the negative or shadow sides of the archetypes are showing up in our lives. The realistic, hones question we need to ask is how they are manifesting. Let us remember that the key to maturity, to moving from Boy Psychology to Man psychology, is to become humble, to be grasped by humility. Humility is not humiliation. . . Let us recall that true humility consists of two things: the first is knowing our limitations, and the second is getting the help we need.(p.145.)

After one has allowed one's self to be honest about the need for help and finds some resources that are of use, Moore suggest we begin active imagination dialogue. This is intentional dialogue with "various unconscious entities, other focused consciousnesses, other points of view within us." (p.146) It is, essentially, a spiritual practice of connecting with our most authentic inner voice. We all talk to ourselves most of the time, usually with less consciousness than Moore suggests. Certainly we act out our self-talk through our actions in the world, whether conscious or not.

How much better to attend to the preconscious ways we speak and act in our world, listening to our own beliefs, however conflicting they may be within our selves, listening without censorship. Moore adds "One word of caution: if in the course of this exercise you encounter a really hostile presence, what some psychologists call an inner persecutor, stop the exercise and consult a good therapist." (p. 147.)

Moore adds:

If they keep acting out, we might want to do give attention to the adult within that can nurture and edify them, help them grow up.

So, to active imagination dialogue, Moore adds, invocation: " a conscious way of calling up images you want to see. Imaging deeply affects our moods, our attitudes, the way we look at things, and what we do." (pp. 151-152.) Suppose you spent as much time calling up images of your very best self, either as your self or as an archetype like a king or god, as you do examining negative images either thrown at your by others or developed through your own lack of self. What would that feel like - and how would you relate to others? Allow those positive energies to flow in and through all of your being. Whew! That's petty cool! It means you don't need to best your children to find your own power.

Another technique Moore suggests is admiring men. This is much like invocation, but entails paying attention to men up to whom one can look. If we don't have such men in our lives, we can read biographies and learn their words and deeds. Do not look for perfection. Seek models for living as you truly wish to live. Moore points out, "The point is that what images and thoughts we invoke determine to a large extent not only how things look to us but how they actually are." (p. 154.) This reminds me of the second UU Source: "words and deeds of prophetic women and men which challenge is to confront powers and structures of evil with justice, compassion, ad the transforming power of love." Let us admire and find inspiration for our lives in such people. Our children will see the change in our lives.

In like manner, Moore invites us to Act "As If": even if we don't feel we are able to. If you wish to be a loving father - or mother, act "as if" you are a loving father - or mother. For example, "If you need to access the Magician more consciously, the next time someone comes to you for wisdom, act as if you really have some." (p. 155.) This entails clearly your mind of your own sense of inadequacy and your own agenda, and allowing your self to access the wisdom of your life experience and your inner voice. You may be surprised how much wisdom you find if you actually listen inside.

Moore gives a final word of encouragement:

He reminds us that we need to want to be good fathers, good mothers, whole people, and to be willing to work toward this, not only for our children, but for our selves and for the greater good of all. This is practice toward maturity, not perfection, by the way.

Fathers are important because children need healthy models of the mature masculine. Mothers are important because children need healthy models of the mature feminine. And, if you are like me and don't feel being masculine or feminine is as important as being fully human, these same techniques work to alleviate the sense of loss of that fullness within.

I close with words adapted from Moore:

The same could be said for women as well, with respect, responsibility, and relish for the process!

So be it! Blessed be!