Dave Kraybill, Kevin Barwick, Oswaldo Montoya
June 1, 2024
Seventh Sunday of Easter
Dave Kraybill
Some years ago, I had a heart attack that caught me and those who know me by surprise. I didn’t have the usual markers for heart disease. Except, that is, my tendency to work long hours at the expense of my physical and emotional health. A few years later, I experienced a breakdown in some close social ties, and that also caught me by surprise. No, I wasn’t mean to others intentionally, but I had often left my loved ones down through my constant preoccupation with work. I found myself in a place I didn’t expect to be—facing a health crisis, emotionally drained, and unsure how to move forward. That’s when I found “men’s work.”
What is men’s work? It’s inner psychological work and communal practices that support men in becoming more self-aware, emotionally mature, and spiritually grounded. It involves personal growth, emotional healing, authentic masculinity, brotherhood and community, rites of passage, and service and responsibility. In this short talk, I’m going to explain how I got into men’s work.
As a young man in my early twenties, I was frustrated and angry with the family model of husband at the head, followed by the wife, and then the children that was widespread in my home community. I rejected that model of masculinity and family relations. But what the larger society had to offer me wasn’t much better. Many influences in society promote unhealthy models of relationships and what it means to be a man, and eventually I began looking for ways of being that deal with deep spiritual needs and longings.
Mainstream cultural norms in our society don’t provide much guidance for acknowledging, coming to terms with, and healing our deepest inner wounds. Societal models of masculinity tend to ignore inner wounds and emphasize strength, courage, and self-reliance. With disastrous results, both secular and religious models of masculinity often add domination to the mix.
Confronting our core inner wounds is essential for emotional health, our own as well as that of the people near us. Richard Rohr writes that pain that is not transformed is transmitted. I’ve found that men’s work helps me understand my core wounds and how pain is transmitted to others. Men’s work gives me essential social and spiritual support and helps me build daily habits to live from my deeper, truer self, which has the divine spark within me, not just my ego or old survival patterns.
I am grateful I learned about Illuman, a men’s spirituality organization that promotes healthy masculinity and communal and personal practices for inner growth and healthy relationships. It does this through practices like ritual, image, story, spending time in nature, and small groups. Illuman has local chapters and local groups in the United States, Canada, and several other countries. Local groups meet regularly in-person, virtually, or both using a simple format that encourages listening and speaking from the heart about their fear, anger, and other inner struggles that we men typically keep to themselves. These “council circles” are small, usually 3-10 men. They are a safe space where we develop bonds of brotherhood that are rare in our society.
Illuman also offers wilderness-based retreats, called Men’s Rites of Passage to initiate men into a healthier masculinity. In these five-day experiential retreats, men explore their wounds, discover their own belovedness, bond with other men, and then return to ordinary life with a new and expanded vision and inner experience of manhood. Illuman also sponsors elder rites of passage for seniors, as well as retreats for boys, young men, and middle-aged men.
My participation in Illuman council circles and retreats has led to daily practices that sustain my on-going inner work. Each morning, I sit on my back porch in contemplative prayer and deep breathing exercises, practicing presence. Throughout the day, I pause often for three deep breaths and to be fully present in the moment. These practices relax me, make me a better listener, and help expand the space between the stimuli of daily life and my responses to them. I’ve come to see my contemplative practices as a way of hallowing the space between stimulus and response, giving me spiritual grounding for the pains and joys of life.
Involvement with the men’s work of Illuman has expanded my network of friends. We meet up at in-person and virtual council circles, at retreats, and in an online networking platform sponsored by Illuman. I spend more time with others now and less time in solitary hobbies and adventures. Following a recent Elder Rites of Passage, I am more alive and hopeful about growing older than I ever imagined I could be at 73. How often do we, as men, pause to ask ourselves: What pain am I carrying? And what am I doing with it? The historian, Howard Zinn, wrote that “we don’t have to wait for some grand utopian future. The future is an infinite succession of presents, and to live now as we think human beings should live, in defiance of all that is bad around us, is itself a marvelous victory.” For me, men’s inner work is a way of being as a man in community – a way that helps me live now the way I believe men were meant to live. Men’s work also helps me be a living example of healthy masculinity for boys and other men.
Oswaldo Montoya from your congregation and I and other men have begun an Illuman council circle that meets here at Seekers Church biweekly on Thursday evenings. We’re grateful that you make this venue available. If what Kevin, Oswaldo, and I have shared resonates with men here today —or stirs a longing you can’t quite name—you’re welcome to join us. All you need is a willingness to show up as you are.
Kevin Barwick
INVITATION invites me to come and see
What lies beneath my encrusted False Self.
I hear, Take up your cross of unrequited servitude and obedience.
What is said is, Just follow me. I will be with you. Come and see.
Squirming and uncongealed, I ask, Come and see what? Why? For how long?
VOICE calls me to come and sit.
Resistance, rationality, repulsion returns.
Excuses, examples, “exactlys” enter.
Doctrine, Protest-ism, religion-ism, framework, outline, thesis doth protest!
SONG sings me to openly listen.
Fatigue and bewilderment befriend me.
What?! Words with no meaning?! Rhythm with no cadence?!
Ropeless and calloused, an unwinding, unfurling Invitation Invites
resignation finds me.
Finally…
PRESENCE embraces me to embrace.
Freeze melts. Steel-like veins open. Predictability vaporizes.
Forming space to know my true essence
That I am truly loved by God.
This sermon reflects the journeys of myself, Oswaldo and Dave Kraybill of what is alive
in us as it pertains to our inner work. By the way, thank you so much for the gift given
through the domestic giving. It helped two men to go through their Mens’ Rite of
Passage this past year.
This poem speaks to how my life has progressed over the last several years. Much of it
has been the influence of Seekers church, i.e. through my mission groups, what we
stand for, and more. Another major part of my spiritual journey is the work of Father
Richard Rohr. Roughly 30 years ago he sensed the call to develop programs specifically
aimed at helping men find purpose through healing deep wounds, finding connection
with other men, and essentially to have eyes to see and ears to hear of how to connect
to deeper parts of themselves. He told us once that he never thought the fire of this kind
of men’s work would spread as it did. He said he relied on others to help men, like
Robert Bly, Michael Meade and others. This men’s work has evolved into what is now
called Illuman. We exist to help men and their families develop a lifelong path of inner
work and spiritual transformation, rooted in five key touchstones: Centering, Gathering,
Connecting, Releasing and Serving.
This is done through deep connection, ritual and inner practices. This is very true in my
life, particularly in this stage of my life facing retirement. This stage of Aging (not just
getting older) is learning to do generative eldering in this next stage. Both Dave and I
just experienced our Elders Rites of Passage (EROP). For me, it was both generative
and inspirational, while clarifying and wonderfully provocative. Next year, for the first
time on the East Coast, we will have the Elders Weave with both men and women. My
current role for this year is Convenor for the East Coast Region. Dave is currently Co-
Convenor, and will be Convenor next year. Overall, I want to help men and their families
in various stages of their lives find purpose and perspective. Essentially, we are helping
men find eyes to see and ears to hear. May we hear Invitation, Voice, Song and
Presence in the days ahead.
Oswaldo Montoya
For better and for worse, being a man has always been central to my identity and life. It has shaped my choices from a young age. Because I was a boy, I was sent to an all-male Catholic school. Because I was a young man, I enrolled in the military for two and a half years during the war in Nicaragua in the 1980s. I was immersed in a male culture obsessed with proving our fragile manhood—through sports, conquering women, heroic patriotism, and violence—all of it driven by a need for external validation.
During my Men’s Rites of Passage with Illuman, I came face to face with one of my core wounds: the deep sense of failure in proving my manhood. That feeling of never being “man enough” haunted me for years. I have vivid memories—like standing on the football field, humiliated because I couldn’t even touch the ball once. My teammates ignored me as they coordinated to score, and all of it happened under the watchful gaze of girls and teachers.
Illuman, through its Rites of Passage, Men’s Councils, and other practices, gave me space to deepen my inner work. This wasn’t entirely new to me. I had the good fortune of being invited into this work years ago by feminist women in Nicaragua—women who were doing their own healing and who invited us men to join them. For ten years, I was part of a men’s group in Nicaragua. We supported each other and challenged the harmful notions of male supremacy—recognizing how these hurt not only women but also ourselves.
Still, something was missing in my earlier men’s work—something that Illuman has helped to bring forth. That “something” is Spirit. Illuman brings Spirit into the work through contemplative practices in nature, through rituals and rhythms, and through deep connection in the Men’s Councils. Conceptual teaching is minimal; instead, stories, ritual, stillness, and rhythm are emphasized.
The Way of Council is a contemplative practice. We engage in radical listening. In this space, we practice honesty, vulnerability, and authenticity. I don’t need to wear a mask or pretend to be someone I’m not. I can show up as I am, imperfections and all. And in listening to others, I practice empathy and compassion—even for men who, from the outside, might seem to have it all together.
One of the most meaningful aspects of the Rites of Passage for me was the grief work. We were asked: What is your unfinished hurt? What do you still need to grieve? I uncovered a long-standing pain connected to political dreams that were once bright but have since become deeply complicated. That disillusionment still weighs on me. I also realized that the pain from my parents’ failed marriage still lives in me and needs tending.
My communion with nature during those days was profound. During the day of silence and solitude in the woods, I wrote in my journal and made a quiet but firm commitment to live with more reverence and respect for the Earth. Since then, I’ve practiced connecting daily—with trees, with the sun, with the earth under my bare feet.
That day, something unexpected happened: a poem came to me—shaped like a forgiveness letter to the tree I was sitting beside. It arrived unannounced, as if being dictated straight into my notebook. I don’t usually write poems—the only other time I remember was a postcard I sent to my wife while we were dating, over 30 years ago. So for me, the process of writing this poem mattered more than the poem itself. It was a moment of inspiration and deep alignment. I wrote it in Spanish, but I’ll read the English version as I close this story.
Forgive me, brother tree,
For all the times I’ve ignored you,
For seeking refuge in your shade
Without ever asking your permission,
For seeing you as mere decoration—
A useful ornament in my yard, the park, the forest.
Forgive me for being part of the human chain
That murders you,
That tears you apart and turns you
Into raw material for my human comforts.
Forgive me for denying our kinship,
For seeing you as a “natural resource”
Instead of as my brother.
I promise to change.
I promise to honor you, to recognize you,
To thank you and also to defend you—
To defend you from myself,
From my ignorance,
From my apathy and distraction.
If it is still possible, brother tree,
To rebuild our relationship and receive your forgiveness,
I want to ask for your counsel,
I want to embrace you,
I want to be like you—
Steady, rooted, patient, and generous.