There is a renewed interest in the revival of the family. Hooray! Let’s ponder this together.
When we discuss the revival of the family, we must consider more than getting married and having children. The family as an institution is crumbling because we treat relationships like they’re disposable. We divorce at alarmingly high rates. We discard other family relationships in much the same manner.
The cancel culture has given birth to the estrangement epidemic. People are disposable and replaceable in the economy of the world. That’s where the dissonance begins.
In God’s economy, people are irreplaceable souls.
In the culture of convenience, it has become almost natural to see human beings in terms of usefulness. Friends are set aside when they no longer serve social striving. Spouses are abandoned when they no longer fulfill the ideal image of romance. Parents and siblings are discarded when disagreements arise. In this way, the family — the place where we are meant to learn patience, loyalty and sacrificial love — begins to fracture at its foundation. And with the cracks in the foundation of the family comes the crumbling of civilized society.
St. John Paul II knew this present danger with prescient clarity. He insisted that the health of the culture is inseparably linked to the health of the family.
“The future of humanity passes by way of the family. It is therefore indispensable and urgent that every person of good will should endeavor to save and foster the values and requirements of the family.” (“Familiaris Consortio,” 86)
This is not a romantic vision. It’s demanding. To assert that the future of humanity passes by way of the family means that the daily choices we make in our homes — whether to forgive or to hold a grudge, whether to speak with kindness or contempt, whether to treasure or to discard — are choices that ripple out into the world. The survival of civilization is inextricably intertwined with the fidelity of ordinary husbands and wives, parents and children, brothers and sisters.
To be sure, the task is formidable. The longer we live within our families, the clearer we see their imperfections, and the more honestly we recognize our own. Over time, the gap between the real and the ideal can weary us. We are tempted to disappointment, bitterness and even despair.
Here is where we hear the call for revival. Pure charity is not proven in moments of ease; it is tested and strengthened in the hard seasons. To remain steadfast when it would be easier to shrug and walk away, to forgive when wounds are deep, to keep showing up with openhearted generosity: these are the daily acts of revival. They are the hidden, often unnoticed warp threads in the tapestry of family life.
The family is not disposable. It is not replaceable. It is not a contract to be renegotiated whenever feelings shift. It is God’s chosen means to shape souls, sanctify spouses and prepare each of us for eternity. When we recommit to this vision with patient fidelity, we participate in the revival not only of our families, but of culture itself.
If we want to heal our world, we must begin at home. The future of humanity depends on it.
Foss, whose website is takeupandread.org, writes from Connecticut.
