Reflections from the Swamp
Dear Reader,
We live in a world where a few of us humans have skills and agility that are wonderfully realized in winter and ice sports. Like most people around the world, we cheer for our own athletes and are happy when they win medals in events we only see every four years. I enjoy watching figure skaters from all over the world make their impossible jumps and skate with such grace and style. I don’t care which country they represent; their performances stand on their own. The Olympics represent the excellence of humanity, an inspiration to us all and unite us in ways that few other things can
Many of us don’t watch hockey, or only get interested during the playoffs. The exception is Olympic Hockey. Hockey is a deep part of Canadian national identity, where work, school, and regular routines give way to cheering for our team. I’m not sure of the definition of religion; however, hockey inspires such tribal identity that the big-tent era of religious revival pales in comparison to the fever-pitch emotion of fans worshiping their heroes when they score a goal during the Olympics.
The Gold Medal hockey game at the Olympics was between Canada and the USA. Given our recent political history with the US, a win would have been more than sweet.
The game was on Sunday, during our regular church services. I suddenly discovered that I had to attend two religious events at the same time! My bride, who holds considerable sway in our relationship, including acting as our events coordinator, informed me that my sudden acquisition of a cold and possibly scurvy was illusory, and that it was time to put on a clean shirt, comb the remaining strands of hair, and go to church. I sensed a spiritual rupture in the making and the need for some free counselling from Mother Mary. I seek Mary on rare occasions, assuming she has greater concerns than fixing hockey game results.
When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me, speaking words of wisdom. I should write a song about this.
I went for a walk in the snowy woods, a sacred place, and called out for Mary directly, without the formal salutations rehearsed in my younger days. Mary responded with a welcoming greeting and then recalled that I hadn’t “checked in” since the time I felt that she could help me with the upcoming winning lottery numbers. During the lottery incident, I explained how I could help the world with generous donations and keep just enough of the winnings to buy a newer, roadworthy truck to replace my truck, Gloria, who was showing signs of imminent expiration.
Every time I “see” Mary, she looks like a Latino, with bright brown eyes, light brown skin, and a smile. This time, she was wearing a navy-blue toque with a white pompom and a sheepskin coat. She carried a canvas bag filled with ropes knotted together. While she speaks, her hands are untying the knots from a piece of rope that came from her bag. She reminds me of women I know who can carry a bag of yarn and join a conversation while knitting on the living room couch.
She said she focused on spiritual support that strengthened our relationship with God and on actions that demonstrated love for neighbours. Her role was to help people untangle the situations that bog us down and keep us from taking action in love.
I explained that the hockey game starts in just a few hours, the importance of the game to many good Canadians, and how she could bring joy to millions of us.
Mary lovingly explained that she didn’t get into altering the results of hockey games, given the numerous prayers from both sides, and her respect for the skills demonstrated by both teams. She suggested that I focus my prayers on gratitude, on courage to meet life’s challenges, and on a deeper understanding of life’s purpose beyond hockey and lotteries. Mary also suggested that I untangle pieces of rope while meditating on how to remove the knots that occur in relationships and within myself.
I wasn’t disappointed with our visit; I could see her wisdom and perspective.
My bride and I dutifully got into the van and headed for church. I was listening to the hockey game on the radio, deep into the third period, with Canada ahead one to nothing. I told my bride that I’d linger in the van for a few minutes. Our team needed my support. My bride left me along with my hopes and dreams.
The game went into overtime, so I went into the church and joined my bride on the pew. I noticed that more pews were empty than usual and knew that many stayed home to watch the game. The minister acknowledged the game’s importance and said we would be updated regularly.
I can’t remember the readings, the songs, or anything else going on during the service.
Finally, near the end of the service, a woman got up and said, “We won! Canada Won!” We all got up joyfully and started high-fiving our fellow parishioners. Then the woman who had announced the win said in a loud voice,” We won, Canada won the Silver Medal!” A strong sense of mixed emotions filled the sanctuary. Was this a win? What about the gold?
I looked back to gauge the reactions, which were both disappointed and yet relieved at the end of the tension.
I saw Mary smile at me and wave before she disappeared, carrying her bag of tangled rope. I knew we would survive this loss and have more days to live in hope.
On the way home, I felt that the day which had started with anxiety would end as a peaceful day. I thought about the bag of rope in the garage that needed untangling. Maybe while I sat on the couch untangling the knots, other knots in my life that needed untangling would come to mind.
My faith in hockey and all the hopes and dreams it brings us remains stronger than ever.
