In a time marked by anthropological uncertainty and the transformation of social norms, the debate surrounding masculinity and the role of fathers in the home and in the classroom has become one of the greatest educational challenges of our time. To address this reality in depth, we spoke with Eduardo Navarro Remis , academic director of the Institute for Development and the Person at Francisco de Vitoria University, on the occasion of the VII Online Congress of Catholic Educators .

Throughout this interview, Navarro Remis reflects on the profound impact of the so-called “crisis of fatherhood” on new generations, the urgency of recovering a renewed and luminous view of the paternal figure from Christian humanism, and the indispensable training tools to accompany educators in the areas of affectivity, sexuality and human complementarity in the face of the new school year.

Talking about “masculinity” and “the father’s heart” in the educational sphere today seems to touch on one of the most sensitive and contested issues in contemporary culture. From an anthropological perspective, to what extent is the so-called “crisis of fatherhood” conditioning not only academic performance, but also the emotional development and deep identity of new generations?

Although it is true that, in our culture, the father figure does not have a good reputation, it is also true that we are witnessing a deep longing for the return of a good father, a positive paternal figure who has a beneficial presence both in the family and in society.

Modern psychology, since Freud, has borrowed several symbols from Greek mythology to explain parent-child relationships. And while Freud offered the myth of Oedipus as an archetype to explain conflictive parent-child relationships, the figure that has emerged today to explain the current state of affairs is no longer Oedipus, but rather Telemachus, the son of Odysseus in The Odyssey .

Telemachus symbolizes the longing for the father’s return home, even when he is present, since there are “children orphaned by living parents.” Telemachus feels this absence as a lack, a void that only his father’s return can fill. Because without his father, in some way, his identity is incomplete.

We live in what has been called the era of the “eclipse of the father,” as the father, both numerically and symbolically, has disappeared from many homes. In many advanced societies, for example, in the United States, where this topic is researched and numerous studies exist, we find statistics indicating that approximately one in four children grow up without a father. But the figure rises to half in the case of children from the African American community. Half of these children don’t know their father!

What we defend from a Christian humanist anthropology perspective is that men and women, equal in dignity and infinite value as persons, are at the same time different. Therefore, fatherhood is rooted in masculinity and we understand it as a certain fulfillment of manhood. Father and mother each enliven the family and society through their own unique way of being a person. Thus, without a father, society and the family lose their specific contribution. Just as with a mother, without a father we all lose.

If this is true, the father’s absence would ultimately manifest itself in aspects such as academic performance and emotional development. In fact, there are studies that confirm these assertions. The consensus in current psychology and psychiatry is that the father’s absence is not neutral. In sons, it produces behavioral imbalances that are more externalized and manifest, for example, in lawbreaking, addictions, or a greater likelihood of incarceration or dropping out of school. In daughters, however, this absence is more internalized, manifesting as damage to their self-esteem.

Therefore, we can affirm that the crisis of fatherhood negatively affects not only the child, but the entire family and, consequently, the entire society.

In a sociopolitical and media climate where traditional models of masculinity are often questioned or reduced to negative stereotypes, what should be the specific response of the Catholic educator? How can they avoid falling into ideological polarization and instead propose a renewed and appealing view of the father figure from a Christian humanist perspective?

I believe the best antidote in this era where classical references have fallen is personal testimony. I am increasingly convinced that it is not so much about explaining things as it is about living them. Although important topics must be well explained, with academic rigor and beauty. But, above all, by bearing witness to what is being proclaimed.

The issue of fatherhood also involves realizing that we, the fathers, aim for something more than ourselves, that we only make visible (and with many errors and shortcomings) a part of fatherhood and that, as Christ says in the Gospel, the true Father is another: only the Father in Heaven is the true Father.

Therefore, we are merely witnesses or can only partially symbolize true fatherhood. That is why we believe it is worthwhile to broaden our focus and also speak of motherhood, spiritual fatherhood, foster care and adoption, or of fecundity beyond fertility.

The specific response of the Catholic educator, therefore, is to bear witness, to make room and show the way to true fatherhood. And to do so from the awareness of being children. And to bear witness, we must understand and love our vocation and identity.

In times like ours, marked by polarization, we must respond with the great superpower that both fathers and mothers possess: mercy. This is the virtue of parents, embodied in all the adjectives we read in 1 Corinthians 13 (patient, helpful, forgiving, and forgetful…).

The parable of the prodigal son is also, and above all, the parable of the merciful father. That is the true power that parents have; that is their virtue.

The child’s identity is pure receptivity. Therefore, their inherent virtue is gratitude. The paternal and maternal identity, on the other hand, is one of self-giving: it consists of becoming a condition for the child’s growth. Therefore, it consists of total surrender, in accepting that the other may transfer to me and take from me what they need, in showing them that life is worth living through the life plan we present to them.

In that act of selflessness, another superpower that fathers and mothers possess—though, in this case, I would say especially the father in our culture—is invisibility. In a culture like ours, where we so often see negative examples of paternal figures, the influence of the good father is usually invisible and doesn’t grab headlines. But the true driving forces of the story are those silent and humble fathers and mothers who take their place and develop their identity through this vocation of selflessness.

Therefore, we must turn our attention to those good models of fatherhood that exist, proposing them, but above all, embodying them. And in this regard, I think especially of the figure of Saint Joseph, father of Jesus, of whom we have not a single written word, but who had the honor of saving the Savior during his flight to Egypt.

We live in hyperconnected societies, yet profoundly lacking in meaningful role models. How does the father figure—both at home and in the classroom—become the irreplaceable axis for transmitting not only moral values, but also the living experience of faith and divine filiation in the face of digital anonymity?

Our society is lacking role models, yet at the same time, we are very attentive to what others are doing. I’m thinking, for example, of all the people who present themselves on social media as influencers . This speaks to the need to look to others for references and role models. And indeed, to the extent that traditional references, such as family or the father figure, have been lost, these are the ones people seek.

If we look closely, all cultures have had a kind of paternal code , recognized as an archetype. In this code, the father symbolically assumes a series of functions and acts. For example, naming. The father is the one who gives the name. By giving the name, he not only designates the child, but also individualizes him and introduces him into a legacy, a tradition, and tells him: “You are mine, you are ours.” He grants him this security in his origin.

At the same time, symbolically, the father has been the authority, which today is also empty of content and understood as loaded with negativity, when “authority” comes from augere , which means “to make grow”.

In life, I need to encounter a good authority figure. What I don’t need is authoritarianism, which is the perversion of authority. But when a father teaches his son the law, he is primarily showing him the goal that will help him grow. He isn’t telling him to obey him simply because of who he is, but rather, “My son, this is the path for you to grow.” And above all, the father also embodies this code of belonging. By being the origin, he also shows his son his destiny.

When the father makes his presence felt, imbued with all this positive symbolism, the son feels secure and is drawn to him. The son needs to feel his father’s approval. In a way, the father effectively symbolizes the love of God the Father.

There are some very interesting studies that link children’s faith practices, especially, to their father’s behavior. In other words, if a son or daughter sees their father praying, they are more likely to pray themselves. If Dad is the authority figure, before whom does my father kneel? If my earthly father kneels before the Father in Heaven, it has a lasting impact on the child. We return once again to the positive influence of a father’s presence.

This congress brings together thousands of teachers, counselors, and pastoral agents. After seven editions promoted by the Institute for Development and the Person, what do you consider to be the main training gaps that educators currently face when addressing affectivity, sexuality, and the complementarity of men and women, and what practical tools does this congress offer to address them?

The Institute for Development and the Person has been providing training in the field of affective-sexual education for over twenty-five years. Our stated mission is to train trainers to discover and transmit the beauty of human love, affection, and sexuality.

It is in this discovery of beauty—in the attraction that goodness awakens within me—that I can truly become a witness who proclaims these teachings. Our courses always strive for a balance between academic depth and the quality of the instructors and content, and the community and learning experience. We always say that the method is the teacher, which is why we seek to make our instructors the differentiating factor.

The main educational gaps that exist today in these matters are related, especially, to the loss of key concepts and ideas, the absence of certainties that serve as a foundation for building. To a certain extent, it is a crisis concerning the truth of love, family, and sexuality. Another key factor in our courses is applying the principle of “open reason,” which Benedict XVI emphasized, leading us to integrate faith and reason, those two wings of truth to which Saint John Paul II also referred. This implies that the empirical sciences do not close in on themselves, but rather open themselves to the question of meaning; that is, to the humanities.

I believe that the main deficit we have today can be found precisely there: in the absence of an adequate anthropology. Without this human foundation, what comes after finds no fertile ground in which to take root. Today, the great question of our time, the question that I believe characterizes it, is sexual difference: the difference between man and woman. Because this also leads to questions about marriage, family, and children, as well as about fatherhood and motherhood.

If I had to define the main outcome that this 7th Congress hopes to leave in families and classrooms for the new school year, what would it be? How can we transform this concept of “the heart of the Father” into a real lever for social and ecclesial transformation in the coming years?

Personally, we would like to unveil something of the mystery of the Father’s heart, to shed some light on this great theme of our time. When we speak of fatherhood, we also refer to the fatherhood of God, from whom all fatherhood originates. There is a mystery in our faith concerning why God, who is neither “father” nor “mother” in human terms, has chosen to reveal himself as Father. In God there is no sexual difference: he is neither man nor woman. However, there is a difference of persons, and we speak of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.

There is, therefore, a mystery by which God has revealed himself to us as Father and not as Mother. And the Son, in teaching us to pray, has asked us to call him our “Father,” and he himself called him “Daddy, Daddy.”

Perhaps, in our confusing times, marked by so many changes, the human father has been stripped of the prerogatives he once held. Now, all that remains is to return to the essence of fatherhood. This means returning to the bond with the mother and, between the two of them, with the child. Returning to this bond and rediscovering the beauty and richness that exist in these relationships and in the encounters that take place within them. Recognizing, without separating, the richness of the relationships experienced within the family.

Ultimately, it is the father who makes room in his heart and life for his wife and child, so that he can guide them toward the Other, with a capital O. We would like to delve a little deeper into paternal identity. Beyond the biological aspect, the father is the one who generates and sustains life and being each day; the one who accepts having a say in my life and destiny; who makes a commitment to his own life, giving himself fully; who accepts becoming a condition of possibility for the other’s growth, with the virtue of mercy. That is what we would like to foster with this online event.

You can follow the course online here.