The Necessity of Ritual

A few years ago the Baptist church down the street from my Catholic church bore this message on the sign announcing their service times: “A Spiritual Experience Rather Than a Ritual.” I wrote a letter to the pastor kindly asking him to remove those words. They implied, wrongly, that a ritual is not a spiritual experience—not to mention the suggestion that their services are superior to anyone who worships through ritual. Though I never received a reply, the words were removed from the sign shortly afterwards.

The importance of ritual came to mind as I watched the opening ceremonies of the Winter Olympics. We’ve seen these rites time and again, year after year: the parade of nations, the speeches, the raising of the Olympic flag, the lighting of the cauldron. Even the cultural expressions of the host country through art, music and dance have become an expected part of this ritual.

But why? Isn’t athletic competition the reason for this gathering? What does any of this have to do with sport? Why are these rituals considered so important that the Games do not begin until the ceremonies have been completed?

Because the human spirit needs to express transcendent realities that dwell deep below the surface, and ritual is the best way to do this. The question is not what does this ritual have to do with sport, but what does sport have to do with the greater scheme of life, a scheme that is best explored through ritual.

No matter how many times we've seen the parade of nations, the ritual seems fresh with each new Olympiad. They may be the same flags we've seen before, but each nation is four years older than the last time we saw them, with new experiences and new perspectives. We've seen that flag with the five interlocking rings raised over many stadiums in many lands, but the international unity it represents has a different dynamic each time. And that flame that is relayed across the world and sent ablaze in the Olympic cauldron is perhaps the most revered ritual of all--we would be hard pressed to find someone who does not consider that a spiritual experience.

Whether it be in religion, sports, or any other facet of life that involves body and spirit (which is pretty much everything), ritual will always remain the optimal expression of what ultimately unites us all to each other, our ancestors and our descendants. They present an outward sign of the inner reality of God working through all of us in so many varied and mysterious ways. If ritual appears rote and stale, the remedy is not to throw it away; rather, it needs to be explored to discover its hidden meaning, which can do nothing but enrich the lives of its participants.

"A Spiritual Experience Through Ritual"--now that's a message worthy to put on any sign.

Ashes can Be the Eye Black of the Soul

For years athletes have used "eye black," a dark substance placed under their eyes, to reduce glare and improve their vision. Earliest forms of this practice included smearing burnt cork ash beneath the eyes. As Christians prepare to be marked with burnt palm ashes this Wednesday to begin the season of Lent, we can think of those ashes as the "eye black" of the soul.

As disciples we yearn to leave the darkness of sin and follow the light of Christ--illustrated by the service of light we will celebrate at the Easter Vigil. Yet the more deeply entrenched we are in the darkness of sin, the more blinding the light of Christ can be. Just as when we turn on a light in the middle of the night and have to squint because our eyes are used to the darkness, so it is when we truly turn from sin and accept the light of Christ; there can be a painful period of adjustment. (St. Paul experienced this when he was initially blinded by the light of Christ on the road to Damascus.)

Ashes represent our desire to be blinded by the penetrating light of Christ, the light that blinds us to sin so our vision can be focused on what is holy. The light of Christ reveals what is hidden so that anything hindering us from being the image of God can be removed.

Since that light can be initially blinding, may the ashes we receive on Wednesday represent the "eye black" that will reduce the glare and focus our vision only on what is true and good.

A very blessed Lenten season to all.

Let the Games Begin

In the spirit of the opening ceremonies for the 2010 Winter Olympics, I present these excerpts from my book Living the Eucharist Through Sports:

The Olympic oath states: “In the name of all competitors, I promise that we shall take part in these Olympic Games, respecting and abiding by the rules which govern them, in the true nature of sportsmanship, for the glory of sport and the honor of our teams.” It seems to paraphrase what we say when we make our gesture of oath, the Sign of the Cross: “In the name of the community to which I am bound—Father, Son and Holy Spirit—I promise that I shall take part in the life of the body of Christ, respecting and abiding by the rules which govern it, in the true nature of fellowship, for the glory of God and the honor of him and his people.”…

The Olympics have a formal Creed, which is displayed on the scoreboard of the stadium during the opening ceremonies: “The most important thing in the Olympic Games is not to win but to take part, just as the most important thing in life is not to have conquered but to have fought well.” The Creed we recite together at Mass has a similar theme. We don’t need to “win” or to “conquer” our opponents—sin and death—for Jesus has done so already through his victory on the Cross.

Let the Games begin!

Catholicism is an Extreme Sport

While watching the Winter X Games on television, I became curious to learn the definition of "extreme sport." It's applied to events like snowboarding, skateboarding, mountain biking, snowmobile jumping, and a host of others. What is the common thread that puts these kinds of sports in the "X" category?

An entry in Wikipedia says extreme sport "is a popular term for certain activities perceived as having a high level of inherent danger and that are counter-cultural." This describes Catholicism to a T.

Catholicism is highly dangerous in a number of ways. Participants must let go of comfortable attitudes and behaviors with a willingness to be changed to the very core. It embraces uncertainty, trusts in mystery, yields to irrational inclinations abounding in contradictions. It welcomes sacrifice and discipline, shuns complacency and passivity. It calls everyone to take frequent risks.

It's brightest stars have suffered persecution, imprisonment, torture, and even death to compete in this arena. Yet while dangerous to participants, it is even more so to its opponents, who can crumble in the face of its power.

Catholicism is counter-cultural--defending life, marriage, family, sexuality, battling the ever-present culture of death. Even among fellow Christians, Catholics counter the culture with our sacraments, devotions, ancient rituals and traditions.

Extreme sport is characterized by a rush from the thrill of the danger involved. Catholics truly in touch with their faith experience a rush as well, one that ultimately comes from communion with our heavenly Father through the Body of Christ in the unity of the Holy Spirit.

All glory and honor are yours, almighty Father, forever and ever. Amen.

Take it to the extreme!

The True Genius of the Tebow Super Bowl Ad

Pam and Tim Tebow's much publicized Focus on the Family ad finally aired Sunday night during the Super Bowl. Pro-abortion activists can offer a free breakfast deal—there is enough egg on their face to feed the nation.

Hearing their rhetoric these last few weeks, this ad was supposed to be some extremely dangerous propaganda piece--the ad was attacked as “offensive to women,” "political" and "anti-abortion rights," and many feminist groups militantly called on CBS to cancel it as if it were a threat to national security.

Now that we've seen it, what in the world was all the fuss about?

As is now well known, Pam Tebow rejected doctors' advice to abort Tim, and the family has long shared their story in advancing the pro-life cause. Yet not only was the word "abortion" never spoken in the ad--the procedure itself was never even referred to.

Pam called Tim her "miracle child," and simply said she "almost lost him" and that was hard--without ever saying how she could have lost him. She went on to say that even though Tim is grown up she still worries about his health. The spot ended with Tim appearing to tackle her, and joking about how tough she is. An invitation then appeared on the screen for anyone who may be interested in learning about the Tebows' story to visit Focus on the Family's web site.

That was it. If you want to know the details of their story, log on. If not, thanks for watching.

The true genius of this ad--and its effectiveness--became apparent only after it crossed millions of television screens across America. Whether deliberately or not, Focus on the Family and the Tebows efficiently employed a strategy known well by any good poker player--a good bluff wins you all the chips. All they had to do was announce this was a pro-life ad, featuring a famous woman who chose life for her child, and they knew what would come out of the woodwork: the venom, the condemnation, the vitriolic calls to cancel the ad or boycott CBS if they didn't--all over a 30 second spot where a woman simply says she almost lost her baby.

It brilliantly revealed the irrational and reactionary nature of the pro-abortion movement. Whether or not it was intentional, it worked.

I am reminded of Gilda Radner's "Emily Litella" character from the early days of Saturday Night Live (pictured above). Emily would appear on the Weekend Update segment and go on a rant about a topic she had misheard and misconstrued. When advised by the news anchor of her misunderstanding, Emily would sheepishly reply: "Oh, that's very different...never mind!"

Thank you Focus on the Family and Pam and Tim Tebow for helping the pro-abortion movement put yet another foot in its mouth. I hope the rest of the nation noticed.

Pope Greets Winter Olympic Participants and Spectators

Below is the text of the letter from Pope Benedict XVI to the Most Reverend J. Michael Miller, Archbishop of Vancouver, as the archdiocese prepares to host the Olympic Games.

I was pleased to learn that the XXI Winter Olympic Games and the X Paralympic Winter Games are to be held in the Archdiocese of Vancouver and the Diocese of Kamloops, from 12 to 28 February 2010. As I send my cordial greetings to you and Bishop David Monroe, my good wishes also go to the participating athletes, the organizers and the many community volunteers who are generously cooperating in the celebration of the significant international event.

Such an important occurrence for both athletes and spectators allows me to recall how sport "can make an effective contribution to peaceful understanding between peoples and to establishing the new civilization of love" (John Paul II, Homily, 29 October 2000, 2). In this light, may sport always be a valued building block of peace and friendship between peoples and nations. I also note the ecumenical initiative More Than Gold, intended to provide spiritual and material assistance to visitors, participants and volunteers alike. I pray that all who avail themselves of this service will be confirmed in their love of God and neighbor.

With these sentiments in mind, upon all associated with the celebration of the XXI Winter Olympic Games and the X Paralympic Winter Games, I cordially invoke the abundant blessings of Almighty God.

On Eagle's Wings: Eddie Edwards Won Glory in Defeat

How would you like to be forever remembered as "comically inept" at your profession?

These words are often used to describe Eddie "The Eagle" Edwards and his ski jumping at the 1988 Winter Olympics in Calgary. Edwards' performance ranks among the worst in Olympic history; yet he remains one of the most beloved athletes ever. Though his religion (if any) is not publicly known, reflecting on The Eagle's story provides a number of spiritual insights.

Edwards was actually an accomplished downhill skier who barely missed qualifying for Great Britain's Olympic team in 1984. He set his sights on Calgary, but could not raise enough funds to continue training for downhill. Determined to compete in the Olympics, Edwards decided to try his hand at ski jumping. Not only was it less expensive, but with Great Britain having no competitors in the event it would be easier for him to qualify.

The Olympics had never seen the likes of him. Entirely self-funded, Edwards had to train and compete with borrowed equipment; he needed six pairs of socks to make his second-hand boots fit, and a helmet with a string for a chin strap once fell off during a practice jump. He took room and board in a mental hospital because he couldn't afford housing. Edwards was overweight by ski jumping standards, and his near-sightedness forced him to wear thick glasses beneath his goggles--which fogged up so much that when he jumped he couldn't see where he was going anyway.

His style was unintentionally eccentric: flapping his arms as he dropped like a rock, falling well short of an Olympic caliber landing. Edwards' awkward jumps were greeted with laughter from spectators, whom he greeted in turn with endearing smiles and waves. Crowds began chanting his name and greeting each new flailing attempt with loud and affectionate cheers. He finished last in all of his events, and was jokingly nicknamed "The Eagle."

Not everyone found him amusing or endearing. Two years after his performance the International Olympic Committee--believing he had made a mockery of the games--adopted a rule requiring athletes to rank either in the top 50 or top third in international competition in order to qualify (known as the "Eddie Edwards rule"). Olympic officials in Great Britain still consider him an embarrassment.

Yet the rest of the world fell in love with The Eagle. He was a man with very little talent for his event--but he took the little he had and gave it his all. On a stage where only beautifully polished athletes normally appear, room was made for this rough, incompetent ski jumper with other skills to exhibit: determination, ingenuity, and a joyful spirit that prevailed in the midst of failuire.

Eddie Edwards stood out at Calgary the same way the poor widow leaving her small but total self-offering stood out at the temple; he taught us that it is not how much we have to offer that matters, but how we offer what we have. Like the children shunned by the discipes but beckoned by Jesus, he showed us that there can be different criteria for evaluating someone than prevailing institutional ideas.

And who among us has never been in his cavernous, borrowed ski boots? Truly living up to God's ways is as difficult for us as was ski jumping for Eddie Edwards: our vision is often blurred, we become overweight with worry, anxiety and other heavy burdens, we can fall well short of where God wants us to be. And we can hear the laughter or scorn of those who find our failures amusing.

But can we respond to these humbling experiences like Eddie Edwards--with a smile and the hopeful determination to get back to the top of the hill and try again?

Eddie "The Eagle" Edwards is perhaps the sporting world's most vivid example that the last shall be first. Never before have so many accolades been bestowed upon a last place Olympic competitor:

*He was referenced by the IOC president during the closing ceremonies of the Calgary Games--the first Olympic athlete to be mentioned in those ceremonies.

*In 2006 Time magazine included his performance in its list of the 25 most memorable moments in Winter Olympic history.

*In 2008 he participated in ceremonies celebrating the 20th anniversary of the Calgary Olympics.

*He recently carried the Olympic torch for part of its relay to Vancouver.

Eddie "The Eagle" Edwards was not trying to be funny--he was just doing his best with what he had. By doing that with a positive outlook he became a star. So will we when we take whatever God has given us and give him our best effort in return.

He will raise us up on eagle's wings.

How Well Do We Love Our Athletes?

As you can gather from my profile picture, I'm a Detroit Tigers fan. Last October they broke my heart. After leading the American League Central Division for most of the season they sputtered at the end, finishing in a first place tie which was then lost in a dramatic 12-inning duel with the Minnesota Twins.

Yet a much greater tragedy emerged from the final weekend of the season, when the Tigers lost two out of three to the White Sox to leave the door open for the Twins. Our slugging first baseman, Miguel Cabrera, went hitless in that crucial series, and we learned of a greater trouble he faced. Police were called to his home that weekend because an intoxicated Cabrera and his wife had physically fought. He admitted to being an alcoholic, and immediately entered a treatment program which so far has yielded promising results.

I recently read this statement from Cabrera that broke my heart more than losing the division title: "I know it will take awhile (for the fans to forgive me), but I won't let them down again."

If it's going to take awhile for fans to forgive him, that's the real heart-breaker. If that's the case, then perhaps we as fans need to examine our hearts to evaluate what kind of "love" we have for the players we cheer for.

Yes Miguel, you let us down on the ball field. We'll get over it. Your well being and that of your family is infinitely more important. You are not a hitting and fielding machine whose sole reason for existing is to perform for the entertainment of others. You are a child of God made in his image and likeness, fighting an addiction that keeps the image from shining as brightly as it can.

There is nothing to forgive as far as baseball is concerned--just get better. As much as we love sports, we love our fellow man even more. If you can beat the forces seeking to drag you down and strive to be the man God made you to be, you'll be a winner. And we'll cheer for you all the way.

For sports to be an effective forum for evangelization we must counter the utilitarian view of athletes, the one that sees them only as instruments for our pleasure and amusement--and thus fair targets for our frustration and anger. (Comments posted to most sports blogs about struggling athletes vividly illustrate man's inhumanity to man.) How can we see God's presence in sports--and its tremendous potential for ministry--if we don't uphold the basic human dignity of all its participants?

This goes beyond how we treat professional athletes--it speaks to how we treat our kids as they strive to integrate the constructive aspects of sports into the greater fabric of their lives. If a child's participation in sports does not positively form their whole person, treating them instead like a glorified video game, it's not only a waste of time--it's an unconscionable injustice.

May all who love God and love sports work to make this holy connection known and realized at all levels of athletics. And may we always love unconditionally--win, lose or draw.