Just over a week ago, I awoke to the sound of the men’s gold medal hockey game, the final event of the 2014 Sochi Olympics. I threw on a Canada sweater, made a smoothie and joined a small crowd of friends who had congregated in my living room, some of whom never watch hockey, let alone show their faces before 7 a.m.
What is it about the Olympics that causes us to abandon our normal routines, gather at all hours of the day and proceed to cheer on athletes whose names we may forget in a few weeks’ time?
If you’ve spent a significant portion of your life engaging in a sport significantly less popular than hockey (I’m talking to the lugers and biathletes among us), I can appreciate that the winter Olympics represents pretty much the only time you can watch the best in the world go head-to-head at your chosen craft on regular cable.
In the other camp are people like me. I don’t usually watch a lot of sports, but I get extremely caught up in the Olympic hype, especially when it comes to the obscure sports (I’m still mourning the loss of ski ballet as an Olympic event). As I reflected on the Sochi games, I noticed some parallels between the Olympics and the spiritual life. It all comes down to the lugers and biathletes.
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Luge: not your everyday sporting pursuit. Photo from here.
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The Olympics celebrate the incredible hard work of those who engage in the thankless daily task of perfecting a unique skill that much of the world would not bother to give a second thought, save for two weeks every four years. When we watch the Olympics, we see an amazing calibre of performance. What we often don’t see is the journey that led to a gold medal moment.
In the spiritual life, we are called day after day to engage in the task of daily prayer and perfecting those little weaknesses that could lead us to sin. Personally, I would love it if someone cheered me on with cowbells, flags and chanting every time I prayed or received the sacraments. It certainly would provide an extra boost of motivation. But the spiritual life isn’t about putting one’s piety on display or seeking a worldly reward. “When you pray, go to your inner room, close the door, and pray to your Father in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will repay you” (Matthew 6:6).
Those lugers and biathletes who spend hours in the freezing cold at a training session for years before the Olympics are like the person who goes into his room and prays in secret. There’s no crowd or cheering – just a vision of the prize that lies ahead. That potential gold medal moment provides an extra push to keep going in the midst of hardship and exhaustion.
Our “gold medal moment” isn’t going to take place in this world. We will spend years working on an often thankless, difficult and misunderstood task: the pursuit of holiness. Just like the lugers and biathletes crashing or falling in their training, we will make mistakes and stumble along the way, oftentimes wondering why we should participate in something that seems so obscure. We will need others to pick us up when we’re down. But always on our mind is the ultimate goal of living forever with God. There, the communion of saints will be waiting to greet us with cheers far more hearty than those from a gold medal hockey crowd.
The Olympics capture our attention because we have souls that are created for everlasting glory. It gives us a glimpse into the true desire of our hearts.
Our podium is Heaven. Our congratulatory phrase: “Well done, my good and faithful servant…Come, share your master’s joy” (Matthew 25:21).
Cue the Heavenly anthem. No flag necessary.
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| “Every athlete exercises discipline in every way. They do it to win a perishable crown, but we an imperishable one.” 1 Cor 9:25 Photo from here. |
Marlena Loughheed is a Communications Coordinator with the Archdiocese of Toronto's Office of Public Relations and Communications.