Many years ago when our first child was only about one year old and we were living in Banff, Alberta, three teenage girls appeared one afternoon at our door. We did not know any of them, but, they told us, they knew one of our friends near Vancouver, British Columbia. He had told them to look us up if they were ever in Banff. We invited them in and they told us their story. It was a fairly common story for those times. The short version is that they had run away from home and traveled several thousand miles across country to Toronto, Ontario, meeting numerous people along the way involved in various illegal activities.
All of this was expressed with a good deal of excitement and the assumption that my wife and I would not only condone their behaviour, but actually share their excitement. They were now on their way back home and had decided to stop off for a few days to see Banff. Their parents had not heard from them until a few days earlier when they had visited one of the girl’s uncle’s in Edmonton, about 400 kilometres north of Banff. He had given them money to take a bus straight back home to Vancouver. They had changed the tickets to Banff and pocketed the difference. They laughed at his concern which they thought was insincere because, as one of them expressed it, “he was only worried that something might happen to us.“ I’m not sure what they would have considered sincere concern.
By this point in their story I was pretty upset, but I didn’t show it. I asked them if they intended returning home. They assured me they did. I asked them if they would go back to their high schools in the coming year while living at home and generally depending on their parents for their support. They all agreed they would. They showed no signs that they could see what I was driving at. It seemed perfectly acceptable to them. Eventually, I ended up speaking to just one of the girls. She seemed the most responsible of the three. I asked her if she would run away again without telling her parents anything. She said no, she would ask next time. I was relieved to hear that, but then she added, with no sign of chagrin, that she knew her mother would not say no because now her mother knew she would leave anyway.
The story took an interesting twist at this point. One girl mentioned the horrible bus ride they had just taken from Edmonton. All three chimed in about how bad it had been. It seems there was a mother travelling with two children, a boy and a girl, and these children were running up and down the aisle of the bus making so much noise that the three teenagers could not sleep. One of them summed it all up by stating, “That mother should be ashamed of herself because she had no control over those children at all.” I’m sure my mouth fell open as I looked from one girl to the next to see if any of them had caught the irony. None had. They were all in agreement and gave various examples of how uncontrolled the young children were on the bus.
I began to wonder what had happened to the “good old runaway.” By that I mean the young man or woman who believes life at home is intolerable and thinks he or she can do better on his or her own. These runaways were either too proud to return, no matter how bad it was away from home, or they returned, as did the “Prodigal Son”, with a sense of humility. But not these girls. There was no sense of responsibility for their choices. Their parents owed it to them to support them, but they had no responsibility in return. As far as I could determine, they had no sense of obedience owed to their parents, no requirement to submit to lawful authority. And yet they expected it from those two young children. I’m sure they took for granted that the world would continue to function according to laws and standards that make community and social life possible, but I don’t think they saw any personal responsibility in making that work by any submission to authority on their part.
I don’t think those three teenagers were very different from many adults in our society who see submission, obedience, and authority as dirty words. I have taught college for over thirty years, and I know that those three words, if used in class, would arouse an angry, irrational response from many of my students. Many people today, including people I know, seem to assume that law and order and civil life are somehow a given without any effort on their part, or, for the more cynical, that obedience and submission are fine for the suckers but not for the smart people.
Satan said it so many years ago, “I will not serve.” He then got Adam and Eve to disobey God and to refuse to submit to God’s command. And so it goes. Humans have a very difficult time submitting their wills to anyone. And yet for most of us, a moment’s thought reveals that in order to have civil society we must submit to various laws, regulations, and community standards. In short, we must submit to lawful authority, including governments, but also parents, teachers, police officers and, ultimately the source of all authority, God. Somehow these words, authority, obedience, and submission, have come to be seen as obscene rather than as valued necessities for a healthy society. How has this happened? How have we become so blind to what should be so obvious?
I have often wondered why Satan, who had such a powerful, clear intellect, would choose not to serve God. I realize it was his pride, but that seems so stupid a choice, pride over Truth. Yet I believe that was the choice. If Satan would not submit to God, Truth itself, how difficult it is for humans to submit. And if we are not prepared to submit to God, how are we ever going to submit to lesser authority.
“When Herod saw Jesus, he was very glad, for he had long desired to see him, because he had heard about him, and he was hoping to see some sign done by him. So he questioned him at some length” (Lk. 23: 8-9).
Herod was curious about Jesus, but, I suspect, was not prepared to submit to the Truth. So often in the Gospels we read about people who wanted to question Jesus, see the miracles, know more about Him out of curiosity, but were not prepared to follow Him, to submit. How often are we like Herod and these others? We want to know more about Jesus. We want to see some signs and wonders, we question, but are we willing to submit to the truth?
I am, in many ways, just like Herod and, closer to home, just like the three teenagers in my story above. I expect God to give me my daily bread, my health, my safety, the safety of my family, the very breath I take each moment, and yet how often do I consider where these all come from or how much I owe in response and thanks? Am I truly grateful to the point of submission before the truth, or am I like those three teenage girls who could see how un-submissive were the two little children on the bus, but were unable to relate it to themselves? I asked earlier how people could be so blind as to not see how necessary submission, authority, and obedience are to a civil society. I think one of the problems is that, just like the three teenagers, we can see how necessary it is for other people, but not for ourselves.
