Читать книгу Leaving Boyhood Behind - Jason M. Craig - Страница 8

Preface

Whenever I was out of school in my teen years, my father put me to work. The summer sun seared the experiences into my memory, but I recall it more because I know now my father worked me hard to make me a man. He gave me hard work as a gift. These were formative years with sweat on my brow, and my father instructed me in the ways of men as he had received them. He had no other way. He was passing on an unspoken treasure: the life of a man. Masculinity, despite assertions to the contrary, is not something you can build by sheer effort — it is a gift received and responded to.

I remember pouring concrete with a team of men, probably too few men for the space we were covering. Each of us had on large boots that kept the wet concrete off of our pants and skin, but it slowly caked on, making steps heavier as the day went. Walking in concrete is like walking in a gravelly soup that won’t let go, because a vacuum is created when you lift your foot from the sludge, lending more weight to the already heavy mix of water, sand, cement, and stone. You have to spread, level, smooth, edge, and finish concrete before it sets up or else you will have to jack-hammer it up later and start over. In the summer sun, the concrete would dry too fast, so we could not slow down. Adding water can make it easier to work with, but in the end “watering it down” makes it weak. My father did not add water. And because of the inevitable and consequential time constraints of the job, he always turned into a bit of a wild man when it came to pouring concrete. Anyone from the outside listening to him barking commands might have thought him belligerent and coarse, but he wasn’t — just focused and intense. The demand of working with a liquid that’s drying into stone makes for an unavoidable sense of battle.

He never “coddled” me. There were no mothers or teachers warning me of dehydration, straining muscles, or working too hard. There were only the other workmen and my father who were expecting me to work hard like them. Pouring concrete with them starkly contrasted the worlds of home and school, places run by the motherly figures of my life. In this tough environment, there was simply no room for whining and self-focus. There was a task at hand, and we were the men to do it. I liked being one of the men.

I was not fully like them, but after experiences like that occurred, I knew I couldn’t go back to just being a boy. This was a time when I was leaving boyhood behind. We know the term “adolescence” as the transitional phase between boyhood and manhood, but when I was pouring concrete with my father and his team, I did not feel like I was in-between at all. I was in a new place. I was in the world of men.

My father had the means, through the brotherhood of workers and the work itself, to form and initiate me into a world that he knew: the world of physical labor, where the inner and outer man grapples with a day’s challenges. Let me be clear: in spite of my father’s best efforts, I still faced much of the same confusion in my understanding of being a man as anyone else in today’s world. Even with the discipline gained through hard work, those years were not a complete formation for me. Over the years, I found my way into terrible relationships, destructive groups of friends, and the abuse of things that are cliché in the world of teenage rebellion. I did, however, know that I was a beloved son being guided into maturity by a loving, if imperfect, father.

I lacked formation most notably in the “higher things.” I did not understand my identity as a son of God until much later, though that too came from fatherly men who taught me to strive for a solid spiritual foundation that was not watered down. But thanks to the rites of passage that my father provided for me, hard work, self-denial, loyalty, honesty, and brotherly cooperation are now traits that I will forever associate with being a man. They are clearly parts of me that play a cardinal role in how I live as a Catholic father and husband, and I am immensely grateful I had that experience.

More and more today, however, men are not so lucky. Today I speak to, write for, and work directly with men who want to feel within themselves a masculinity that is alive and real, but who are clearly “uninitiated.” It shows up in different extremes: the obviously insecure men on the one hand and the overcompensating men (those who try to prove themselves with bigger, better, more, etc.) on the other. Too many of these men feel like their lives, despite all their challenges and sacrifice, are not quite adding up to the fullness of being a man. Some give up and just go through the grind of every day, while others go after moving targets like prestige, power, and pleasure. But deep down these men just want to be men and be secure in it.

One of the main reasons men want this is because they want to be able to pass on authentic manliness to their sons. Not only do they fear not being a “real man” but many men also fear not being good fathers. They dread the prospect of losing or failing their sons in some way. Men just want to be good men and good fathers. It shouldn’t be too much to ask, but something has “snapped” in the long history of masculine wisdom, and today most men are lost and lonely.

Theories abound these days about the present “man-crisis” and what’s causing it, but very few people are talking about what we can do to solve it. Too often, it seems much easier to identify a variety of traits that are “manly” without actually proposing a path or way of life that makes those traits attainable. If we want the critical identity-building time of adolescence to be a time when boys are formed into men of virtue, we have to better understand how a boy transitions to manhood. And if we want to define masculinity and challenge men to maturity, then we have to understand the stages that a male passes through on the way to manhood, no matter his age.

The poor presentation of men in popular culture (Homer Simpson is the prime example) is not so much about presenting men as “buffoons and idiots,” but about presenting them as self-centered and immature. These caricatures of men are not simply stupid (though they are that) — they’re little boys in adult bodies, playing adult roles. Everything in our culture today — from the entertainment industry to sobering criminal statistics to the tantrum-like riots and demonstrations across America — shows that we are desperately in need of manly initiation. The “problem” is a problem of potential. Males are not achieving the potential within themselves to be men. And, sensing it, they are grasping at anything that will allay the fear, or else they give up in passivity.

Catholic men are not exempt from this crisis of mature manhood. In working with men and boys since my own conversion to Christ as a teenager, I have been troubled at how little Catholic literature there is on masculine maturity and mentoring (i.e., becoming a man). But through studying the universal practice of male rites of passage, I have come to see clearly that boys and men today have the same needs as ever — we’re just not meeting them. Traditional cultures were on to something. By “traditional cultures” I mean those peoples and places that continue a shared way of life that is passed through strong intergenerational bonds, a deep sense of rootedness, and an unmistakable identity. Such cultures had (and some still have) deep wisdom about how to bring about the “death” of the boy through meaningful challenge that gives way to the “birth” of a man who lives for things greater than himself. Such a man lives for the good of his community in a fraternal spirit.

As I have learned about the distant and ancient rituals that help this death-to-life transformation occur, I have also come to realize that the same spirit and wisdom of initiation is all around us. Yes, meaningful and shared ways of life may be slipping away, along with their accompanying rites of passage, but it is not yet an unreachable goal or unworkable principle. Men have what it takes to change the tide. Especially in the Church, we have everything we need for true and authentic masculinity, because we have the “true man and true God,” Jesus Christ. And that is what I hope you realize through this book: that you can understand these principles and enact the simple ideas in your own life in ways that are natural and authentic.

We need to understand the wisdom behind rites of passage, because, as Jesus said, “wisdom is justified by all her children” (Lk 7:35). In other words, these ideas must translate into a common way of life — a culture. They have done just that in the not-too-distant past, and they can now. I am going to walk you through each stage of initiation, dwelling more heavily on some, but ultimately showing how males are separated from boyishness, shown their strength and identity through initiation, and then incorporated into the brotherhood of men so that they can be prepared and strengthened in their vocations as husbands and fathers (whether in the physical or the spiritual sense — a distinction we will discuss in more depth later). You will see very quickly how today’s society impedes this maturity at every step, not so that you can become another voice complaining, but so that, together, we can do something about it. For men who love to solve problems, pointing these impediments out is synonymous with a call to action. We have to recognize the problem first of all so that we will be empowered to turn the tide of confused boys and immature men.