Remembering the Call: Saying Yes to the Journey to Fly Fish. Insights From Christian Fly Fishing Guide

“Sometimes a man stands up from supper, walks outdoors and keeps walking because of a church somewhere in the east and his children say blessings on him as though he were dead and another man who remains inside his house dies there beside the dishes and in the glasses so that his children have to go far out into the world toward the same church which he had forgot”.  Rilke

From the beginning fly fishing was something that as a kid I felt almost compelled to do rather than staying home or spending time with the neighborhood crowd. As the poem above metaphorically suggests, it was as though, one day I just got up, walked away and was lost fishing in the woods. And for those who noticed I was not around that much anymore they may have wondered what had happened to me and they may have even said blessings for me as though I were dead. And I guess figuratively speaking it was as though I were socially dead.

The Rilke poem suggests that the call comes from some church far away that was forgotten. “Sometimes a man stands up from supper and walks outdoors and keeps walking because of a church somewhere in the east”.  Likewise, we may remember a time when something bigger than life spoke to us.  We may have forgotten a friend who spoke to us in some powerful manner, or we may remember an experience we never could shake off, or a glimpse of some mystery we could never explain. We might recall a lost dream, or what it was we really loved and wanted to do with our lives before the complications of life set in.  And perhaps for some of us we might even remember that as a child we loved to fish but as adults we never found the time to pursue it with all of life’s pressing concerns. But some how we still remember the smells of early morning on some river or lake, the way the first light of the day strikes the water or we remember how we once caught  a glimpse of something large and powerful lurking below the surface and somehow that adventure, once again, calls to us.   

If we ignore the call to adventure too long we tend to dry up and spiritually, in some sense, die, still clinging to our rational excuses.  We might die right there, “beside the dishes and in the glasses,”  or, where ever we have hidden and forgotten our true passion and intention for life. Many men at midlife struggle knowing what to do with themselves and find them selves confused, tired and “stuck”, and that sense of truly feeling alive is nothing but a faint memory.

I have known many folks who for complex reasons can never “get away” to fish or respond to the call to take any kind of out door adventure. Or, some of us may not even be able to hear the call anymore.  And those that do hear the call feel too entangled in “responsibilities” that they cannot leave for even for a few hours.

And some have just simply forgotten.

Stepping Back While Fly Fishing and Looking at the Spiritual Life from the Fringe

Sometimes while right in the middle of teaching someone to fly fish and we are casting in a run and we are not hooking up fish,  I will say, “Stop, lets step back and just watch”. I will then ask him to step back out of the river with me and climb the bank or sit on top of a boulder and look at the run we are trying to fish. The distance gives us some perspective and a bigger vision of what is going on and what we are trying to accomplish. As we look at the water from some distance, from the fringe, we will then better notice exactly where the fish are and try to figure out their feeding patterns and what are the best drift lines. We will then come up with a game plan, a strategy to make the best presentations that will hopefully give us the best shot at the biggest fish in the run.

Spiritually, I also often like to ‘step back’ now and then and try to be more aware of what I am actually thinking and doing and how I am living and interacting with those around me. Sometimes I just need to go off and fish by myself and ponder things and even distance myself in regard to the organized structured Christian church, it’s teachings, it’s influence and it’s ways of doing things.  When I am too close to it, I don’t know if I am seeing things, or myself, or even God as I ought.  I need space and perspective to better see what is going on.  I can then better pay attention to patterns within myself and others and compare it with what I know (Or hope I know),  to be true about God, the church and how I think it might be able to function from a Biblical perspective.  In other words I don’t necessarily believe everything I am seeing and experiencing or others claim to be experiencing as being the ultimate reality. I would rather step back and read the waters more carefully and deeply and also look at the images deep with in my heart. The images in my heart give me a glimpse of what life could be and that includes the life of the church.

Can a person spiritually step back and get some distance and at the same time not back out on his commitments?  Of course, opinions would vary in responding to this question. I personally think we can, that we need to, and that we must, although I do admit it is a bit tricky for when ever we step back out of the mainstream current, there is the danger of falling off. There is also the danger of being labeled as one who “rocks the boat” and some people don’t like their boats to be rocked, especially when it comes to religion.

However, I do know that when I carefully stand on that rock, from the edge and I carefully examine everything, there is another change that takes place in me from being on the fringe. I simply don’t care and worry so much about the petty things. I don’t care so much about the approval of others. I don’t care about being polite for the sake of being polite. I don’t care about being politically correct. I don’t care what the mainstream thinks of me. I don’t care if they think I am a fool and “out there’. And when I no longer care about these things by no longer allowing my neurotic compulsions of trying to please others and fitting in the mainstream to rule my life, I find I live with a new freedom and power. I am not afraid to see things as I see them or hear things as I hear them or say things as I believe even if that means not being a  part of the mainstream. I would rather try to please the One who truly lived on the fringe.    

I find some comfort as I think of the people of great faith in Hebrews chapter 11 who did please God, who stepped “back” out of the mainstream, and were described as living on the fringe, on the edge; Those “who went about in sheepskins, in goat skins, being destitute, afflicted, ill treated (men of whom the world the world was not worthy) wandering in deserts and mountains and caves and holes in the ground.”  I think of John the Baptist crying out in the wilderness with locust in his teeth. I think of Jesus speaking to us from a fringe of some other kingdom and how different and alive his words were to those who heard and now are to us; Words that were so alive and true,  people hated him for it.  I think of the poet Roethke who wrote of the edge, “That place among the rocks-is it a cave, Or winding path? The edge is what I have.”  I think of the woman in the Gospels who felt the urge to simply touch the outer hem of Jesus’ garment.  

Jesus is the edge, the point, the outer fringe of God that touches our world, touches us, and touches me. We meet God at the edge. Can we step back and climb this rock (watch your balance) and just watch for a little while. What do you see? What do you feel?

Let’s talk about what we discover.

And if nothing else, you might have a better shot at catching that 22 inch rainbow lying down deep along side of that submerged log. But to have a chance of hooking that fish you are going to have to fish the edge of the current, a narrow seam line that will get the fly right along the edge of that log; A dangerous and risky cast indeed.

Seeking the Approval of Men: Speaking the Truth from the Heart; Authentic Christian Living

A Man Lost By A River

There is a voice and a music,

A throbbing, four chambered pear

That wants to be heard, that sits

Alone by the river with its mandolin

And it’s torn coat, and sings

For whomever will listen

A song no one wants to hear.

(by Michael Blumenthal )

I do believe that God puts a new song in our heart. He gives us a voice to speak to the Christian community and for the world.  He gives us truth and we are asked to speak the truth in love.   But, Jesus also warned us about the cares of this world getting in the way of our growth and faith and living authentically. Jesus warned us to be careful to not love the approval of men more than the approval of God. But, why?

There are many valid answers to this question but I would like to suggest an answer from a slightly different perspective. Quite simply, if our priorities are messed up and we seek the approval of others above all else, then most likely it will be too difficult for us to speak the truth.  If our number one priority is to have the approval of men then it is unlikely that we will be able to be like the man lost by the river as the poem suggests. It is unlikely that we will be able to speak from the heart, that four chambered pear that wants to be heard, that sits alone by the river with its mandolin and his torn coat. It is unlikely we will have the courage and strength to be able to sing our song for whoever will listen and that no one wants to hear.

If we want the  approval of men above all else then we better learn to put our mandolin away and not sing our song or speak from the heart because most often people do not want to hear the truth. They would not approve of it or of us. So, we better get a new coat for the sake of appearances, get out of the river and go sit somewhere in a high place where we will be seen and have their approval.    

But to live primarily for the approval of others is to not only deny the truth but to live a lie. It is sort of like gaining the whole world and yet losing one’s soul and we may never know if we had to the heart to say what no one wanted to hear.

Christian Fly Fishing: Useless and Irrelevant, Becoming a Fool for Christ

Aldo Leopold, in “A Sand County Almanac”, described a satisfactory hobby as “being to a large degree useless and irrelevant.”  He goes on to add, “A hobby is a defiance of the contemporary” and that “every hobbyist is inherently a radical”.

When I was eleven years old, I started fly fishing on my own in New Jersey. In looking back I can now realize how by choosing to pursue fly fishing, without even knowing it, I was becoming somewhat of a radical. During the early 70’s in northern New Jersey, I rarely saw anyone else fly casting streamers or poppers for Largemouth Bass in the ponds I fished. People would sometimes ask, “What are you doing? Why are you whipping the line through the air?” Or, even just the fact that I spent hours and hours fishing, preferably alone, while most of my peers were engaged in more mainstream social group activities, I must have been viewed as odd. And even now, in this age where fly fishing has become in vogue, as an adult (or any other fly fisher for that matter) who fishes not for food or money, can be viewed as a bit of a radical, especially if he fishes alone for hours and hours.   

Like many people who have become intrigued by fly fishing, I cannot explain exactly what it is that causes a task that is essentially, useless, to be so fascinating. In looking back when I was a kid,  I wonder if without even knowing it, if it was a form of my own “defiance of the contemporary”.  It doesn’t make much rational sense for an 11 year old kid to pursue something that would lead to being alone and viewed as “different”. I now get the feeling after working for decades as an educator that there is some unwritten creed among young people these days that goes some thing like, “Don’t do anything where-by you look alone, different, or foolish”.  Oh no! God Forbid!

Yet, at the same time, over the years, I have wondered what it means to become a “fool for Christ” as the apostle Paul put it and what Jesus meant when he spoke about being not of this world and that we would be misunderstood. The life of Jesus was anything but practical as he asked his followers to sell all they had and give to the poor, to not store up riches, and to leave every thing behind. In essence, to live like fools.

Maybe fly fishing is one of those “foolish” tasks we can do that is largely “useless and irrelevant” and therefore makes us a bit of a radical and an individual who lives in “defiance of the contemporary”.  Perhaps fly fishing in some small way can help us to understand what it means to be free, to not be completely engaged in the “game” of the world in which most things are done for rational reasons and for some practical purpose that is sensible rather than foolish and usually involves the underlying motive of making a profit. It becomes sad when everything we do drives us toward only the goal of making money, moving up a ladder and giving us the illusion of security.  The fly fisher engaged in the useless task of trying to catch a fish,  defies this game of the world, and at least during his time on the river, allows him to becomes the radical fool.  And I think, at least at times, this is a good thing.

And finally, somehow I get the feeling that to play only the game of the world and to never be engaged in anything that might be called useless and foolish (such as fly fishing) is to miss out on what it might mean to become a follower of Christ and miss out on life itself.  

Words Remembered

Sometimes I look back at my life and I remember the exact words that were spoken to me 40 plus years ago. But I don’t really understand the significance of the words nor why I would remember those words in particular.  Sometimes the words I remember, at least on the surface don’t seem to express anything of great importance that I should remember them more clearly. And some of those words remembered were about fishing. 

When I was 11 years old I went to a small Pennsylvanian town where my Dad had grown up. Some of my relatives had still lived there and during this particular summer I went to stay with my Uncle and Aunt for a week. Even as a kid I liked to get away from my neighborhood and spend time fishing alone. My uncle and aunt did not fish but they arranged for me to fish with a neighbor who lived a few doors down. He was an elder gentleman who I was to call Ta Ta, and he loved to fish.  He was not a relative, just a friend of the family who seemed to like children.

Ta Ta took me to a pond that held bass and catfish. It was very hot so the fishing was not any good. But I do remember certain parts of our conversation.  I remember him complimenting me by saying that fishing with me was easy for him because I could take care of myself and untangle my own line. I also vaguely remember him sort of complaining about how when he took other kids fishing and they got all tangled up he would have to spend the whole day undoing their messes.

And then strangely, the words I remember most vividly were spoken after he took a slip on the muddy bank falling gently on his hand which got covered in mud. He casually opened up his tackle box and pulled out a rag and wiped his hand clean and then said, “It is a good idea to always keep an old rag with you while you are fishing”. And nothing else was spoken about it but I remembered the words.

While I remember those words I must admit that I presently do not fish with an old rag in my fishing vest.  I have not found a need for it as Ta Ta did. So I still remain perplexed wondering why I remembered the advice of keeping an old rag if I found no use for it.  But in looking back my guess is that maybe I was intuitive enough to know it was something in his heart that I heard more than the words. There was nothing pretentious about his advice. In fact, I don’t think he was even trying to give me advice. The words just left him naturally. The advice was utterly simplistic and at the same time absolutely sincere.

I wonder if on that day had he tried to say some thing more important such as, “Anthony, it is a good thing to always have faith while you are fishing,”  would I have remembered those words?  I guess the answer to that question depends upon many things, too many possibilities and side tangents to discuss in this short essay.

But in the end, to this day, I strangely remember his words spoken to me. And now when I take many adults and children fly fishing, and especially children, I wonder what words, if any, they will remember spoken by me.  And, if they will hear the words of my heart.

The Paradox of Faith in Fly Fishing: Believing and Not Believing

Over the last 25 years, there have been numerous people I have guided in fly fishing who were trying it for the first time. Some of them had never fished before in any form. But, by the end of the day, after managing to catch some trout, they often will tell me the same story that goes something like this; “Anthony, I never really thought I was going to catch anything today. I was happy to just be here and try it and learn, so the fish I caught were an extra bonus.”  Appreciative clients are wonderful people to fish with. They are truly grateful for the fly fishing experience and I admire their humility and strangely, I even respect their lack of faith.

Such a scenario brings to mind a deeper spiritual issue that I have thought about for decades. It is the idea that when a person states he does not believe he may actually be very close to believing (or deep down he may actually believe). This reflects a strange paradox of faith, in that by not believing we may actually be believing. I know for me personally, there have been times when it seemed I believed the least, it was then that some thing unbelievable happened. There have also been times when I have been most disappointed and angry and I could only cry out, “Where are you God, I don’t believe in anything anymore”, and somehow at that precise moment of not believing I actually believed ( at least a tiny bit). And ironically, sometimes, the more intense the not believing was the more intense was the conviction that I believed or was about to believe. I also am reminded of the story of Abraham and Sarah who when at a 100 years old were told they were going to have a son they laughed in disbelief. Or was it belief?  

Chesterton said, “Christianity is a superhuman paradox where by two opposite passions may blaze beside each other”. Could believing and not believing be two opposing passions that blaze beside each other? 

Faith is a mysterious paradox.  Perhaps this paradox is no more mysterious than when Jesus spoke about the faith of a mustard seed which could grow into a huge tree or be potent enough to cast a mountain into the sea and how it would be those who were poor in spirit who would have the kingdom of God and those who would mourn would be comforted and how the first shall be last and the last shall be first and how Peter’s doubting faith allowed him to walk on water (at least, for a little while), and how a man cried out to Jesus, “help my unbelief”, and Jesus healed his sick daughter. And I think of the thief on the cross next to Jesus, who in his last hour of life probably did not believe in much of anything is told by Jesus he would be with him in paradise that very day.

So even while fishing and engaged in the rather silly task of trying to catch fish  I wonder what really goes on in the heart and mind of the fisherman. I wonder to what degree,  hope and faith are possessed. I tend to think the first time fly fisherman often may have only a tiny bit of faith (such as a mustard seed), but often it is enough. And maybe even in those situations where the client concluded beforehand that he was not going to catch anything, I wonder if he may have actually believed. Or maybe “behind” his expressed unbelief was the tiniest hope, the mustard seed Jesus spoke of.  Or still yet, maybe the moment a person says, I do not believe, grace is present and so is faith.

There are also those situations where I find myself trying however feebly to share my faith with others. I may make a statement or two and get no response or sometimes I get the angry response of , “How can you believe in anything? Look at the mess the world is in. Look at how hypocritical the church has become. And look at my life. Do you have any idea what I am going through?  I don’t believe there is a God.”  Even in such situations, where the exact polar opposite of believing is expressed, I still wonder, deep down, what a person might truly believe. All it takes is a mustard seed size amount of faith. Who knows?

I cannot formulate these experiences or ideas into any kind of a formula or principle to follow that would dictate the success of fishing or draw parallels to faith and the spiritual life.  It would be folly for me to suggest anything along those lines because real life has provided too many contradictions.  In my years of guiding I have fished with people who expressed “great” faith hardly catch anything or those who seemingly expressed no faith make great catches. I have seen the arrogant get skunked but also at times make great catches.

Added to this complexity and paradox is the fact that it remains very difficult for anyone to know with certainty what someone deep down truly believes. Can faith exist “under” a person’s statements to the contrary?  Maybe even as the atheist utters the words, “I do not believe there is a God”, there is grace and perhaps belief, or, if not belief then belief that is about to be born?   Could even in these situations there still be a mustard seed of faith “underneath” statements uttered?  

So, I ponder these issues with out reaching any conclusions. I do not claim to understand this paradox. I remain rather ignorant. Nor do I understand as a guide how my own faith, big or small, affects the success of the fly fisher I am teaching. I might only dare to say that when I meet someone and that person tells me of the great faith he possesses in regard to anything,  I tend to feel a bit skeptical and yet, when some one tells me of how little they might believe I tend to trust their belief or “unbelief” more. This is probably just due to personal preference.

In the end, my best guess is that all I can do is hope and hold on to a mustard seed of faith through out my life, and for others and hopefully that will be enough.

.  

Secret places on the River and of the Heart: Spiritual Insights from Colorado Christian Fly Fishing Guide

Fly fishers have “secret holes” on the rivers they fish. We can be quite hush-hush about these places. Likewise, we often have secrets of the heart that we keep deep inside and tell no one.

As Christians, it is sad that we often try to hide who we are. We harbor our secrets. We remain on a stage performing and afraid to reveal what we are really thinking and feeling. We think we need to always smile parroting religious clichés.  Yet the sharing of our secrets is our “humanness”, part of our life story, and can be a place of deep connection among believers. Our deep inner secrets, or more so, the “general” secret of who we really are can bond us together on a level that the pretending will never achieve. Maybe this is the secret, that what we present to others is always somewhat different from what we truly know about ourselves.  

It seems that even when I try to tell people who I really am they will often disagree. I am not sure why it is this way.  “Oh no, you are not like that”, they will say. Perhaps my outward persona is quite “effective” in fooling people and it keeps people from being close to me.

For me, a big secret is my general sadness with much of life. Therapists might call this depression and perhaps they are at least in part correct. Perhaps melancholy is simply my natural disposition and a part of the human condition; “I know the earth and I am sad” said the poet Pablo Neruda.  In addition, no doubt part of my sadness simply stems from   my own shortcomings and at times, my own ungratefulness. But, all these reasons aside,  I think at least  some of my sadness has to do with a great spiritual truth.  And that truth is simply that Jesus was a “man of sorrows and acquainted with grief”, and as Christians, this man of sorrows lives with in us. Somehow I think if we really believe in the life of Jesus then in some very real way we all share in that sadness and brokenness and somehow that is part of the secret that we all share in together but we don’t want to reveal because we think we have to always appear “together” and happy.

Being unable to share this secret of our sadness is perhaps what keeps us from being as close and connected as we could be and perhaps what even limits us from understanding the heart of God. It is a paradox in that deep down we want to be accepted for who we really are but we are also scared to death if we show our true selves to each other and even to God that we will be rejected.

Frederick Buechner says it this way, “What we hunger for perhaps more than anything else is to be known in our full humanness, and yet that is often just what we also fear more than anything else. It is important to tell at least from time to time the secret of who we truly and fully are-even if we tell it only to ourselves –because otherwise we run the risk of losing track of who we truly and fully are and little by little come to accept instead the highly edited version which we put forth in hope that the world will find more acceptable than the real thing.”

I personally have grown weary of the edited version of myself and I have grown bored of the edited versions of others. Maybe, (and I need to start with myself), we can learn to share the secrets of our hearts with one another and that might somehow make our own lives and our relationships with others a bit more authentic. And then we would all share in a similar knowing in the same way that when we reveal our secret fishing holes we would find out that everyone already  knew. It was not a secret after all.