Heading in to camp with Dal and my Dad after a great evening of fishing.

ADAM, in Hebrew, is not so much a proper name as a general description of the male of the species, “adamah” or creature of the earth.  I like “Man of Earth,” or “men of the earth.”

I bring up this first point because of my interest in what is called male spirituality, in contrast to a feminine spirituality.  My interest and concern has arisen from my disappointment (and subsequent feelings of failure) in the number of young men who grow up in the church and then leave the church for good.  I have to admit my first concern was with an insider/pastor bias. “How can we get and keep men involved in the life of the church” (as if the only place to find God and live the life of faith is within the context of the church)?  But I have realized that getting men to church isn’t the goal, it’s guiding men into their inner soul and spiritual journey with God.

After three amazing days fishing with my dad and our friend Dal (Dick and Steve were in the other boat), I began to understand more clearly what Richard Rohr and John Eldredge have been getting at when they say that Christianity has become too domesticated and prettified, where men and male spirituality is concerned.  The point was driven home while fishing off of the dock in the late evening with some men from the other group that was also at Fletcher Lake.  Even though it was a company trip, some of these men had been coming up together as friends for over 30 years!  I had talked with some of these guys over the years, when our trips happened to overlap, and the short conversations would usually devolve into a “why I don’t go to church” confession of sorts.  But this year the conversation took a different turn when the subject was not church but male spirituality (I had been telling them about my sabbatical focus in this area).  Two of the men perked up and excitedly told me about their spiritual connection through nature and why they always looked forward to coming up to the wilderness of Canada.  One man stretched out his arms and loudly declared, “This is my church!”  The other man quickly added, “I feel closest to God when I’m up here.”  Instead of asking them if they go to church or not, and if not, why not, I thought of a different question to ask in response, “Have you ever felt close to God in a church?”  The first guy shook his head no and gave me a look that said, “are you kidding me?”  The other looked like he was trying to remember something before saying, “One time, a long time ago when I was a kid.  It was an evening service, some of the lights were off and there were lots of candles.  I think there were a lot of different readings with silence in between, no sermon, there was communion.  Then we left in darkness and silence.  That was really powerful, but that was a long time ago.”  (In further talking we figured out he had attended a Good Friday Tenebrae service at his Catholic church).  Neither goes to a church, only for weddings, funerals, and some holidays.  But both agreed there was something important and special that they experienced, which they named as God, when they were in nature, out in the wild.  They did not experience God back in the cities, at work or home, and most definitely not at church.  Only when they were out in nature, close to the earth, in a way unlike anywhere else, were they at least aware of and open to God.  If I had had more time perhaps we could have deepened our conversation.  Perhaps next year.

If you created a time line of your spiritual life, and highlighted those times and places you experienced God, what might you discover?  Give it a try this summer and pay attention to where and how you’ve been open to God’s presence.