Wendell Berry wrote a poem about contrariness and in one of the lines he writes, “When they told me God was dead I said, No he’s not, He goes fishing every day on the river, I see him often”.
I often feel a bit of the same contrariness in regard to things pertaining to faith and church. When “they” tell me I have to go to church to find fellowship, I say, (in the spirit of the poem), “No, I have fellowship every day on the river while fishing. I see them often”.
One would think that those of us who share a common Christian faith and attend church regularly would experience a deep meaningful fellowship with one another. Sometimes this is the case, often it is not. Many people can still feel very lonely while attending church where often the depth of fellowship does not go beyond the ritual of greeting your neighbors in the pew with a hand shake.
If I were asked where I have experienced the most meaningful, and deepest level of fellowship I would have to answer that those friendships often have taken place on the river. I don’t really know what is almost magical about fishing together with someone. Surely it is more than simply trying to catch fish. Perhaps it has something to do with spending time in God’s creation, watching the sun rise, or set and all the different shades of light on the landscape or, two fishermen glimpse a rainbow or notice the sunlight dancing on a riffle. Maybe it is listening to the sounds of the river and watching it flow by over and over again. Maybe it is watching spring snowflakes the size of half dollar coins falling on the river as trout sip blue winged olive mayflies. Or maybe there is something about watching clouds of millions and millions of tiny glistening trico mayflies fall to the river and then watching the fish gulping them off the surface. Maybe it is the excitement of when your friend hooks a large rainbow and it leaps out of the water and peels off line. At least at times, somehow these experiences shared can bond fishermen together in ways much deeper than many typical church services.
Two people who share a common faith sitting Sunday after Sunday in a church pew looking forward listening to a sermon, ironically may not enjoy such a mysterious depth of friendship. Perhaps the problem with sitting in church is that it is far too passive for anything of depth to develop. In contrast, fishermen on a river are actively engaged in a common task of trying to catch fish and there is an intimate sharing of ideas on how to achieve this goal. Of course in some sense it could be argued that this is not a very big mission at all; in fact, it is a bit silly if one thinks about it, yet for anyone who has fished, often times something undeniable takes place between fishermen who are actively engaged in this task. The two people are bonded and changed in some way and usually somewhat “better” for the experience.
While trying to catch fish, there can be a lot of encouragement that goes on among fishermen on the river. I often hear people say, “nice fish”, or “great cast”, or “well done”. Sometimes I can even hear the Reverend Maclean as in “A River Runs Through It”, say to his son on their last fishing trip together when Paul was holding up his trophy trout, “Wow, you are a fine fisherman”. Sentiments are expressed on the river that perhaps normally could never be spoken any where else.
Strangely I don’t even think the fishermen on a river have to talk about important things for something meaningful to take place. Some times to simply fish together is enough. But of course it is on the river where fishermen will often share stories with one another, describing what they do not like about their jobs, or the fight they got in with their spouse, or some unlived dream, or about the hope that is in their hearts. The river itself may have a way of listening, perhaps even speaking and drawing people out in ways that rarely happens in church.
While fishing, the Maclean’s seemed to have this special almost metaphysical relationship with each other and with the river. It was Norman who while watching the river noticed the heat mirages dancing on the river and said, “I could feel patterns from my own life joining with them“, and that, “It was here while waiting for my brother that a story had begun near the sound of water.” It seems that for the Macleans, being on the river together had provided a medium in which a depth and love could develop in their relationships and this was all part of their story.
And then later in this story while Norman and his father were watching Paul fight a large fish and Paul had to swim across the river to get to a better place where he could land it, there was a sense that they were fighting the fish with Paul. Norman Maclean describes it this way, “We lived in him, and were swept over the rocks with him and held his rod high in one of our hands”.
“We lived in him”? This may sound a bit too spiritual and metaphysical for a family or a group of friends fishing on a river or even for two people sitting in church to have this kind of a relationship with one another. Yet, I can’t but help think of what Jesus said in the Gospel of John about his hope for us. He hopes that we would all be one. He says, “I in them and Thou in me that they may be perfected in unity”.
Such a depth of unity seems mysterious to me and yet I believe such a bonding is possible. It intrigues me. But, when I think of the organized Christian church and my own experience of trying to connect to various churches over the decades, I must confess that I have not even approached such a depth. And yet I believe it exists even as I have not seen it or experienced it.
At best, I have only been on the fringes of this depth and mystery and even this has only occurred while I have been on the river.
If you would like to dialogue with Anthony in regard this essay please email me at suragea1@aol.com
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