Dear brothers and sisters,
Over the years I have been called many things, but never have I been
called an athlete (and rightly so, for I much prefer reading books and playing (old)
video games and board games to competing athletically. With this in mind, it
may seem odd I have been given a few moments to speak to you this evening, but
I hope I can say something of interest to you.
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| PHOTO: Denny Sinnock |
When I was a young priest and assigned to a parish with a high
school, I found myself – at the insistence of the students – as first the
assistant coach to the boys’ soccer team, then to the track team, and then to
the boys’ wrestling team. More than a coach, it always seemed to me the students
saw me more as a mascot and even perhaps as something of a life coach. My time
spent on the busses and on the benches remain one of the primary blessings of
my life, for lasting friendships were forged amid the context of athletic
competitions; I have had the great joy of officiating at several of their
weddings and baptizing a few of their children.
This camaraderie, this fraternity, this friendship established
around a healthy competitiveness and a desire to push others to excel is the
greatest blessing sports has to offer to men and women, to boys and girls. Do
not lose sight of this. Do not put yourself ahead of your teammates but put
yourself at their service, encouraging them always. Catch one another when one
of you stumbles. Pick one another up when one of you falls. If you help each
other in this way, you will help each other to renew your strength through the
goodness of your shared humanity.
There is, however, a sort of athletic competition I do take part
in, that of a certain mental gymnastics. When Father John Doctor, O.F.M. first
showed me the reading from the Book of the Prophet Isaiah proclaimed for us this
evening (Isaiah 40:29-31), my first thought turned to the writings of the great
J.R.R. Tolkien, the author of The Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings,
because eagles play a prominent role in his tales. The eagles arrive always in
the nick of time to rescue the main characters from what appears certain doom.
Some people have asked why the eagles didn’t simply fly Frodo
and Sam directly to Mount Doom to destroy the One Ring. To these people,
Tolkien had a simple answer, which you can watch him give on a video on YouTube:
“Shut up.”
More seriously, and more importantly, Tolkien called the coming of the eagles a eucatastrophe, which is to say
a sudden and
miraculous grace: never to be counted on to recur. It does not deny the
existence of dyscatastrophe, of sorrow and failure: the possibility of these is
necessary to the joy of deliverance; it denies (in the face of much evidence,
if you will) universal final defeat and in so far is evangelium, giving a
fleeting glimpse of Joy, Joy beyond the walls of the world, poignant as grief.[1]
Your victory in athletic pursuits can give a fleeting glimpse of
joy, a foretaste of that fullness of Joy which will be known by those who have
competed well in this life and find themselves at last before the Face of God (cf.
II Timothy 4:7).
That said, my thoughts turned next to those most curious of texts,
the medieval bestiaries, books something like a combination of a zoology
textbook and a book of mythology. The medievals knew that, because everything
that exists is created by God, there must be some mark of the Creator in each
created thing. The bestiaries not only give an indication to the nature and
habitat of various animals, but also what we can learn about God from them.
Turning, then, to the bestiaries, they say something intriguing
about the eagle that we know, in point of fact, to be untrue. Nonethess, that
did not stop them from allegorizing the eagle. Taking their cue from the verse
we heard from Isaiah that those who hope in the Lord shall renew their strength
like the eagle (cf. Isaiah 40:31), the bestiaries say something like this:
And it is a true fact
that when the eagle grows old and his wings become heavy and his eyes become
darkened with a mist, then he goes in search of a fountain, and, over against
it, he flies up to the height of heaven, even unto the circle of the sun; and
there he singes his wings and at the same time evaporates the fog of his eyes,
in a ray of the sun. Then at length, taking a header down into the fountain, he
dips himself three times in it, and instantly he is renewed with a great vigour
of plumage and splendour of vision.[2]
What are we to make of this strange account? The bestiaries tell us:
Do the same thing, O
Man, you who are clothed in the old garment and have the eyes of your heart
growing foggy. Seek for the spiritual fountain of the Lord and lift up your
mind’s eyes to God – who is the fount of justice – and then your youth will be
renewed like the eagle’s.[3]
Be, then, hawks, like the eagle. Soar high, and bathe in the
fountain of God. If you do, we will be renewed and refreshed for you will have
realized the wisdom of Saint Augustine who famously said to God, “you made us
for yourself and our hearts find no peace until they rest in you.”[4]
Amen.
Go hawks!
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