Guest Column by Jason Chavez for FāVS News
I was blessed. I grew up in the company of men — my father, my uncles, cousins, and grandfathers. They didn’t soften the edges. They spoke like men. They corrected me with strength and loved me with presence. That kind of masculine environment formed me. It fed my identity. It rooted me in the truth that I was made for responsibility, sacrifice and mission.
I remember one day when I was about 10 or 11 helping my dad and uncles re-roof my grandmother’s house. My grandfather was there, too. The sun was hot. The work was tough. But I didn’t care. Because I had been “invited.” They didn’t treat me like a child. They didn’t lower the bar. They spoke to me the way they spoke to each other, like men.
That invitation did something to me. I wasn’t just helping. I was “becoming.”
The same thing happened around the campfire. Sitting under the stars, I’d listen to them talk — straight, real without performance. They didn’t hush their voices when I came near. They let me stay. They let me listen. And at that moment, I knew “I belonged here. I’m one of them.”
The power of mentoring
Masculine initiation is not about a ceremony. It’s about presence. It’s about being invited into the world of men.
Later in life, I boxed for three years. That season changed me. My coach didn’t just teach punches, he taught me how to take a punch, how to get back up, how to keep going when you’re hurting. That’s when I learned grit builds peace.
Because a man who knows he can suffer well is a man who walks with confidence. It wasn’t just a sport. It was a “rite of passage.” We need thresholds of masculinity.
That’s what we’re building now through our Christ-centered boxing program.
These young men, some as young as third grade, gather in a space that is holy ground for the body and the soul. We start and end in prayer. We teach them that they are called to live as priests, prophets and kings. Their strength is not an accident. It’s a gift. That they were made to be leaders, protectors and providers, whether they become husbands, fathers or priests.
Then they enter the ring.
They learn to move.
To guard.
To strike.
They learn control.
Discipline.
Confidence.
But more than anything, they do it together.
They learn to trust each other. To see one another’s weaknesses and cover them. To call out each other’s strengths and draw them forward. And in that process, they form what the world has nearly lost: a brotherhood.
As they grow into fourth, fifth, and sixth grade, this brotherhood will anchor them. It will be there when temptation comes. When life gets hard. When fear knocks. And they’ll remember: “I’ve bled beside this brother. I’ve prayed with him. I’m not alone.”
That’s why Christ sent his disciples two-by-two.
Because isolation kills.
But brotherhood gives life.
Importance of an invitation
I’ve heard it said, and I’ve seen it in stories that religious vocations were bursting at the seams in Ireland when priests boxed with boys in parish basements. Let that sink in. These weren’t casual after-school programs. These were “holy encounters.” A boy would look across the ring and see a priest as his “spiritual father” fighting beside him. Sweating. Coaching. Standing strong.
And something would click: “I want to be like that man. I want to live like him. I want to follow Christ with that kind of strength.”
These are the kinds of moments that forge vocations. Not just to the priesthood — but to authentic Christian manhood.
When a priest steps into the ring, vocations follow.
Because that’s what every boy is looking for: a man of God who doesn’t run from the fight but enters it with him.
And here’s the truth we must face.
If we do not invite our boys into a brotherhood, the world will invite them into a false one.
We are now living in a missionary country right here in the United States. Our boys are not growing up in a Catholic culture. They’re growing up in a spiritual wasteland. And if we don’t reclaim masculine spaces and extend a clear, bold invitation, they will go looking for it elsewhere.
Whether it’s the skatepark, the gaming community, the street or the locker room, every boy will find a brotherhood.
The question is which one
That’s why this matters.
That’s why we invite.
Because this isn’t just about boxing.
We live in a culture where young men are more connected than ever and yet more isolated than ever. The suicide rate among young men and adult men continues to rise. Not because they are weak but because they are alone. They don’t know who they are. They don’t know where to go. And no one has invited them into the fire.
But when a boy knows someone is in his corner, he changes. When he knows someone has his back, he walks taller. When he’s prayed with a brother, sparred with him, suffered next to him, he moves through life like a man, not a boy in a man’s body.
This is why we box.
This is why we pray.
This is why we build masculine spaces.
Because boys don’t become men by accident, they become men when invited:
Into work.
Into sacrifice.
Into courage.
Into mission.
Our future men
We are forming a generation that won’t freeze. That won’t conform. That won’t back down. Because they’ve been “conformed to Christ” in strength, in sacrifice and in brotherhood.
One roof. One campfire. One priest in the basement. One invitation at a time from fathers, mentors or men willing to lead.
This is how we raise men.
A great mission you’re leading, brother Jason. And a very well written article as well, poetic in places.