We once invited several families with children my son’s age over for dinner. Once everyone arrived, we all went into the room where the kids were playing. But guess what, we dads saw our kids playing together with the cardboard blocks!
Well, as good fathers, we had to participate. Didn’t we?
While preparing this message, I remembered that when he was younger, my son would play with big cardboard blocks. And, once he built something, he’d often knock it down and start over, and over, and over.
When you’re two, play is not about being the biggest, nor the best, nor any other measure of success or superiority. It’s about playing, about imagination, about stacking blocks. It was also about playing with someone. Blocks were a favorite pastime with Mommy and Daddy, Grandparents, and friends.
Playing with someone was fun. Our participation – being with him in his play – was the point. There was no goal, no purpose other than enjoy playing … together. It was about relationship.
We have all learned to set and achieve goals for ourselves, and to own them. We learn to say “I did that” or “I own that” or “I am that.” We want to be (or have) the biggest, the best, or the fastest, and know how to achieve such things; and there is nothing wrong with this: it is part of our identity, one of the ways we define who we are to ourselves and to others.
But sometimes, we come to want something because in some way we think it will magnify or justify our identity, rather than just defining it. When that subtle line is crossed, a line we are rarely (if ever) aware of, we have begun making an idol of ourselves.
Note: This sermon was presented at the church where I serve is Minister. It is derived from last week’s sermon, which was given at my boyhood church, where I am from time to time invited to preach as a Pulpit Supply Minister: Centre Church in Brattleboro, VT. Both sermons in turn have their genesis in a sermon given while I was a Seminarian at First Congregational Church (UCC) in West Boylston, MA.” While this sermon is almost identical to last week’s sermon (and similar to the original from three years ago) there are some significant differences, partly due to my tailoring each message to address where each congregation was “at” at the time; and partly due to the evolution of my thinking and insights regarding the relevance and implications of the First Commandment for us in the modern world.
I’ve noticed that when young children play, it’s often about the process – or journey, if you will – not the goal. For instance, when my son builds a tower with blocks and it gets too high, he knocks it down and starts over, and over, and over.
Such play is not about being the biggest, nor the best, nor the tallest, nor any other measure of success. It’s about playing – about stacking blocks. That’s where the fun is, that’s what makes it valuable. What’s more, as parents, our judgment of the quality of the results is not important. …Well, at least not yet! – But our participation is.
A couple of years ago, we invited some of our friends and their toddlers over for dinner. Once everyone arrived, we all went into the room where the kids were playing, and … guess what … … … The Dads saw the kids playing with my son’s big cardboard blocks!
Well, as good fathers, we had to participate, didn’t we?
But our play was very different. We didn’t build towers just for the fun of building. Noooo… We had to build the BIGGEST tower. And, so we built a HUGE tower, nearly touching the ceiling, which in that room is quite high.
The Moms held the kids back from participating while we worked, saying they didn’t want them to topple the tower; but I think they were more afraid that someone would get trampled in all that furious activity.
When the tower was done, we took a few pictures, congratulated ourselves, and then the Moms let the kids go. … … A few seconds later, we had to act as human umbrellas to prevent our little ones from getting seriously bonked as that tower came tumbling down. Continue reading “The First Commandment”