Guelph Community of Christ
8 Mitchell St N1E 4J1 Guelph, ON, Canada

No medals for Canada this time. But that's life too, isn't it?

We can’t leave a curling reflection without a word for the sweepers. In curling, as in life, no one can do it alone. No curling superstar ever wins a game on their own. We looked at the special relationship between skip and third, but no amazing duo will ever succeed without the skill and muscle and good instincts of the other two known affectionately as the front end. Very few of those really skilled leads or seconds aspire to be promoted to boss position on their team.... No, they work diligently to develop their fitness, their stamina, their ability to steer that stone, to keep it running straight or to carve its bend left or right to ensure the exact angle it strikes is what the thrower threw and the caller directs. All that Hurry, hard, and head down is giving them the information they need to do their best job. But they too provide essential input about the ice and the rock that the rest of the team needs to succeed. So what is the parallel in our life metaphor for the job of sweeping? Remember the famous Mr. Rogers’ admonition to look for the helpers? Curling has built in the role of helper ensuring there’s always someone there to provide that extra that even the most amazing star skip will inevitably need to win the big game. Curling fans can all recall a critical winning shot that would never have happened without the essential help from Lisa Weagle, or Tariq Martin or Brett Lang or Dawn McEwen. And our message today? If you are called to be a helper, be the best helper you can be. And if you are a star, remember you can’t do it alone. Look to your sweepers and value their vital assistance in all you do.

I love the way curlers treat each other. Watch them for any time at all and you see this. It’s not just that they are nice to each other; it goes way beyond that. They ARE nice to each other, team-mates and opponents alike. But listen to the communication. You can, because everything is done out loud, for all to hear. If you’re watching on television you notice that everyone is wearing microphones for broadcasting. Regardless, it’s all done quite transparently. There’s no sec...ret strategizing behind hands. We all know what everyone is thinking. If we do this, they’ll do that and then Of course it’s all dependent on the ability to actually accomplish the shots they plan together. Sometimes they miss. Often they miss! Even the most elite curlers. What then? There’s no place to hide and they talk about it. What went wrong? Did you throw too hard, too soft? Was there something on the ice? You’ll very occasionally hear someone blame such a pick but never to escape blame. They need honest and unvarnished feedback to play this game. The skip must know the nature of your goof if she or he is to call the game correctly. There are four people on a team and each one is regarded and treated as an essential contributor to the end result. Close relationships exist between the skip and their third. Each tries to provide what the other needs just now, be it calming or pushing, or offering perspective or alternatives. This quality is evident across the whole team, but shows up most often between the skip and this close colleague who stands at the leader’s shoulder. I could go on with many, many examples of ways curling teams around the world exemplify a style of team work that I would love to see more of in congregations, in families, in work teams, in cabinets, in neighbourhoods Every day, as I’m watching a curling tournament, I’m observing these examples of sacred communities in action.

What shall we talk about today? I’m not quite so chipper after a two-loss day for Canada, so maybe I’ll focus on the ice and the rocks. If you’re new to curling, or tend to follow just the win/loss or the medal count during the Olympics, you might think that ice and rocks are merely solid, neutral, inert substances. Hockey is also played on an ice surface and most of those hockey stars have been on skates since childhood. But to them, it really IS just a matter of hard frozen... water that provides a challenging surface upon which to do their thing. But listen to the curlers. What appears to us spectators as a plain white surface (with the occasional sponsor’s logo) to them is way, way more complex. They see straight tracks, soft patches, fast or slow areas. They rely on skilled, professional ice-makers to monitor the atmosphere, the temperature, the humidity of the building; all of these play critical roles in keeping that slab of frozen water ideal for their play. Winning skips are those who best learn to read the ice. It’s almost a living thing! A forty-pound (or so) chunk of granite glides over that slab after a ritual squat, stare, polish, ear-tug, back lift and transfers its energy at just the right seven-eighths corner of an opponent’s, or team mate’s, static rock to send it flying, or nudge it gently. All those things have resulted from a skilled strategist’s observation of the need to score, or block, or remove, or leave for a future play. What can be known about the qualities of the seemingly identical but definitely NOT identical rocks is indeed amazing. Whole books are kept on just those qualities. As one who tries to acknowledge the sacredness of creation, I marvel at every curling game just how intimately expert curlers have become one with the rocks and the ice that define their sport. Ice and rocks are indeed holy, to be learned and respected and properly managed by skilled practitioners of the curling religion.

Folks who don’t know curling well and some late-night comedians tend to think of it as a game of rocks and ice and loud yelling. It IS those things, but so much more. This season has been constrained by COVID and all the championship tournaments are being held inside a bubble in a single site in Calgary. The bubble has accentuated the virtues of the sport. As a metaphor for life, I like curling more than any other. It has been said the sacred hides in plain sight. ...I’ve noticed, yet again, just how often I am touched by glimpses of the sacred; I’ve come to a preliminary conclusion that curling is more than just a game. It is a representation of a community of joy, hope, love and peace. In other words, a sacred community. A recent example: at the end of the final, hard-fought, mixed-doubles game between veterans Kerri Einarson and Brad Gushue against Kadriana Sahaidak and Cotton Lott. Of course, they all knew each other; curling is a tight community. But Kerri had also mentored Kadriana and Cotton’s dad had once coached Kerri in her Gimli curling club, so she had known her since Kadriana’s childhood. The game was a good one; both teams performed well, but Einarson and Gushue took the cup. Kerri’s first move was to go hug Kadriana to console and encourage her. At the victor’s interview, Kerri’s eyes were filled with tears as she insisted They’ll be here again. I know how badly she wanted to win. The interviewer had to pull her back to talk about her own world-class performance as she wanted to uphold her opponent. That’s an example of the tightness of the curling community. Tomorrow we’ll look at the game itself. Curling has lessons on how to live in such a community; rules and mores of the game have created such a culture we could learn from.

As we’re about to enter the summer sports season we’re going to hear debates as to whether baseball or soccer is the better metaphor for Life. I’ve already seen a New York Times article claiming that most people go through life thinking they’re playing baseball when they’re really playing soccer. I’m resisting going down the pathway of criticizing Americans who name their national sport championship the World Series, when we all know that the game the world plays by the m...illions is football (soccer) the actual beautiful game. Apparently, someone has recently published a book about the mental, emotional benefits of watching sport. There are plenty of mental as well as physical health benefits of playing sports, but for those of us confined by circumstances to couch participation, I’m thinking these days about the mental vs the physical aspects of sports watching. I expect by now you’ve wondered where I’m going with this discussion. How is it relevant to our spiritual conversations? So here is my response: These days much of my spiritual musing is happening in the spaces afforded me by MY spectator sport of choice in this in-between season. In fact, one of the major benefits of my game is the extended bits of time it affords me for just such musing. You won’t find any Forbes magazine articles on my sport; it doesn’t generate millions in profit for its stakeholders. But I have gleaned much wisdom about Life and I’ll share some of them in the next few days, and maybe a bit of fun. Welcome to my spiritual analysis of Curling.

My thoughts about the pursuit of peace are looming large in my journal entries last year. Here’s another excerpt from those thoughts: May we always be ready to offer sanctuary to those whose need is greater than ours, to bear whatever discomfort we need to bear in striving for the greatest gift of all. Help us always choose Your peace over our comfort Can you think of times when you’ve allowed yourself to be UN-comfortable so that someone else might feel welcome, or to experience sanctuary?

Do you have east Asian neighbours who have put up coloured lights in and around their house? They’re likely not jumping the gun for the Christmas decoration season; they’re celebrating Diwali, the Hindu festival of lights. Decorating their homes, getting together to pray and sing and share special sweet treats would be normal for this celebration of new beginnings, and victory of light over darkness, good over evil. Doesn’t that sound wonderful, even familiar? If these are your neighbours, feel free to wish them a Happy Diwali! Your neighbours will be missing this big family and community celebration. It might be nice to hear this familiar greeting from their Christian neighbours. Go ahead. Take the risk. Happy Diwali!

That last post reminded me of the notion of the different lenses we use to look at life. Imagine the lens of the lost vs the lens of the found; the lens of the survivor vs the lens of the victim. This idea turns up on many pages in my journal. One of my favourite people is Peter Block. I’ve read all his books, even took a workshop with him. It was a foundational experience in my career and my life. So it’s not surprising how often he turns up when I think about commu...nity, citizenship, living out a vision of greatness. Block urges us to focus on our gifts, not on our problems. Build up the structures that create connections and belonging. Whatever the question, the answer will begin with community. Choose to write a new story. Change your lens. If those ideas sound familiar to you, now you’ll know where they came from.

Lost and Found Spending some time thinking about what is lost and what is found. Why do we speak of the parables of the Lost Sheep and the Lost Coin? Why not the Found Sheep, and the Found Coin? What have we lost? The good old days? Certainty? Truth? Faith? ... What are we looking for? Do we even know any more? Perhaps it has to do with the bruised and broken-hearted, the needy, the lonely neighbour. But what if we ourselves feel bruised and broken? Is it possible to truly BE a wounded healer? Can we care for the groaning creation in the midst of our own pain and suffering? Walter Bruggemann suggested that the prophetic task is to articulate hope for a vision of a better future. As a prophetic people, perhaps this may be what we have lost that vision for a better future. Is it possible that we are BOTH the lost and the seekers? Here is a good example of this truth: the most prevalent punctuation in MY journal is the question mark. I am happy for you to supply any answers you might have.

Here is a Prayer for Peace, I wrote and offered in our congregation just over a year ago: We are thankful that our peace gives us safety and security; a place to retreat from the unrest in the world--a place to experience our own peace. Maybe we need to see this peace as a place to develop skills, to practice our talents for leadership in the arts, sciences, politics, citizenship. May we seek out people and organizations actively working to make a better world. May we be wil...ling to leave our own sanctuary and step out into our aching and needy worldto bring our gifts of peace-making. We are called to be peace-makers and community builders to see our call to be a blessing for others who have not known the peace we enjoy. We may not have any idea how to bring peace to a world so very broken. But we do know it will be by building community. May we be willing to leave our own comfortable space to join our gifts together with those working diligently to bring God’s peace to all. Amen See more

Exploring the concept of witnessing takes up several pages in my journal from last summer. It assumes a new relevance in these pandemic times. How I’ve changed my ideas of witnessing. We’ve thought of it like testifying in a courtroom, under oath and subject to cross-examination on penalty of perjury charges if we’re wrong. But clearly one cannot testify at all unless one has first seen something. I’m reminded of another concept: the sacred hides in plain sight. Our call is... to notice it! What if we considered ourselves as sent out into the world to notice where the Divine is at work, and then to return to our own community to share what we have seen? How would this encourage us as a community then to respond, to engage in those acts of mission and compassion we’ve espoused as our inherent values? How much more would we be willing to be a witness if this were our definition? Called to be a witness = called to be a noticer of the sacred, hiding in plain sight. See more

Heroes This week (and recent months) we’ve spoken and thought much about our heroes. In my journal browsing I came upon this list of my own personal faith heroes. It’s not all-inclusive, but this list resonated with me as I read it this morning. I discovered Marcus Borg at just the right time. I needed to learn to see the Divine in new and meaningful ways for me. In later reading, Sally McFague entered this category. Karen Armstrong showed me that study and reason were legi...timate ways to be spiritual. Paul Davis and David Schall were wonderful teachers in my own formal education for ministry. They were fine models of Community of Christ trained pastors in the best sense of the words. As I’m writing this I realize that there have been many, many more, but this was the list in my journal. How about you? Who are your spiritual heroes and mentors?

Guelph is the home of John McCrae and our town is justly proud of his famous war-time poem In Flanders Fields. Canadians across the country recite it at cenotaphs, in school rooms and church services. I’ve known the poem by heart since I can’t remember when. And yet, every time I say it, or hear it, I reach that point, every time, where I stop and challenge myself. The images are lovely the poppies, the waving fields, trying to recover from the ravages of war, the lark fl...ying, singing. Then we say it Take up our quarrel with the foe. To you, from failing hands, we throw the torch The poet/soldier is saying to Us: keep on fighting; for if you don’t, you’ll have broken faith with us who died for you. I fear that’s the message we’ve most taken to heart, whether or not we’ve realized it. The fighting has never stopped. The quarreling has been poked at and fueled and kept burning for decades, for the whole century since McCrae laid down his pen. What if we find a new way to conclude this poem? Can we keep faith with those who died in a better way? Can we pursue peace? I don’t know. We’ve not done it yet. Is it really too hard, impossible even, to create peace? Is that why we still recite that poem with such pride? We’ve taken up the quarrel alright. I pray we soon find a way to change our way from war to peace.

I’ve always taken notes in church. I am NOT transcribing what you’re saying. Some things I write down are things you say and sometimes I write down things I think. When I look back I can’t always tell the difference. Here are some things from my journal from last February, written in my journal while Gloria was speaking. In Luke 8, Jesus calms the storm. Even the elements listen to (attend to/obey) Him. We tend to listen selectively. We love all the good stuff but we have... to admit there are verses in the scripture that we ignore or spin what he really meant to say was When we interpret exclusively according to our own wisdom, we create our own Jesus. THAT Jesus cannot transform us.