Fatherhood and the Human Heart
Written by Megan Keyser
A reflection on a past WRM read, To Kill a Mockingbird, in honor of the Well-Read Mom Year of the Father theme.
Fatherhood is crucial to the development of the human heart. The strength and uprightness of fathers, or alternatively, their weakness and vice, is reflected in the state of culture. When we have an abundance of men exemplifying all that is best in masculinity—the unique features of authentic male strength, integrity, and goodness, which cannot be substituted by any amount of feminine virtue—the world prospers, courage ignites, and people of both sexes and of all ages are ennobled.
This year, Well-Read Mom challenges us to examine the role of fatherhood in literature and the world, recognizing the necessity of this often dismissed and marginalized vocation and its significance within our families and our broader society. As we reflect on fatherhood, Harper Lee’s classic American novel, To Kill a Mockingbird, swiftly comes to mind.
In our modern world, where it sometimes seems “there’s nothing but sin and squalor,” it’s often difficult to discern the virtuous path or to find the resolve to stand up against the evils that both plague our society and encroach upon our own hearts and our families (page 264). Sometimes, the challenges in seeking the virtuous life or resisting the secular tide appear insurmountable, and the way forward is unclear. But then I recall Atticus Finch as he tries fervently, unfailingly to champion goodness, truth, respect, and compassion against a tide of irrational hatred and blind hypocrisy in his small, sleepy town of Maycomb, Alabama.
He possessed the truth, and it needed to be shared—whatever the cost, whatever the heartache—because “polite fiction [could not be preserved]…at the expense of human life” (pg.167). Something dearer than his comfort, his ease, and even his (and his family’s) own physical welfare was at stake, and in the defense of that truth, Atticus was unwilling to remain silent.
Not only did he heroically attempt to save an innocent man’s life despite impossible odds, but even more significantly, he deliberately chose to set a noble example for those around him—particularly his children: “Sometimes, I think I’m a total failure as a parent, but I’m all they’ve got. Before Jem looks at anyone else he looks at me, and I’ve tried to live so I can look squarely back at him” (pg. 314). If parents do nothing more than set an example of heroic virtue for our children, we (regardless of the number of times we fail) have accomplished a feat of tantamount importance.
One of the signature beauties of Atticus’ virtue is the gentleness and compassion with which he articulates and embodies his strength. Rather than lording his virtue, ability, and intelligence over others, Atticus never fails to communicate the truth firmly while also empathically “consider[ing] things from [the other’s] point of view…climb[ing] into his skin and walk[ing] around in it” (33).
That regard for the situation and circumstances of others never dampened Atticus’ commitment to the truth. Still, it did draw the admiration and regard of others, who felt valued, understood, and respected by him. This consideration surely led people to weigh the truth he communicated with greater thoughtfulness. Whether or not they immediately acted upon or embraced that truth, people could not help but be struck by Atticus. As Miss Maudie reflected: “…I waited [and] I thought, Atticus Finch won’t win, he can’t win, but he’s the only man in these parts who can keep a jury out so long in a case like that. And I thought to myself, well, we’re making a step” (246).
In considering Atticus Finch, I could not help but see the parallels between him and Saint Joseph, the foster father of Christ: the quiet nobility and strength of this most humble and gentle saint and the understated magnanimity of Atticus. With his reserve, patience, and understanding, Atticus steered his family chiefly through his example of virtue: he refrained from engaging in lengthy lectures or micromanaging his children’s affairs, yet all the while, Jem and Scout were acutely aware of all their father did, and their constant gaze upon his actions ultimately led to admiration for all their father strove to uphold.
In my mind, Atticus’ uprightness admirably mirrored the steadfast, gentle command with which Saint Joseph guided the Holy Family: a command unwavering in the truth yet ever filled with unobtrusive compassion and quiet humility.
So, as we begin to reflect on the theme of fatherhood and the human heart during this year with Well-Read Mom, perhaps it will be helpful to call to mind what Saint Francis de Sales so eloquently and poignantly stated: “Nothing is so strong as gentleness, nothing so gentle as real strength.” I think Atticus would agree.
About Megan Keyser
Originally hailing from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, Megan is a 2006 Hillsdale College graduate with a degree in Classical Studies. These days, Megan thrives on the challenges and joys of her role as a Catholic, stay-at-home mother, who heads a chapter of the Well-Read Mom, dabbles in social commentary and other writing pursuits, and advocates for the pro-life cause. Despite the inevitable chaos of large family life, Megan is thankful for her lively brood and relishes juggling household responsibilities, babies in diapers, and, of course, a good book. She resides in Noblesville, Indiana, with her husband, Marc, an engineer in the energy industry, and their ten children: five sons and five daughters, ages 15 years to 6 months old.
About Well-Read Mom
In Well-Read Mom, women read more and read well. Our hope is to deepen the awareness of meaning hidden in each woman’s daily life, elevate the cultural conversation, and revitalize reading literature from books. If you would like to have us help you select worthy reading material, we invite you to join and read along with us. We are better together! For information on how to start or join a Well-Read Mom group visit our website wellreadmom.com
