All Hallows Eve--- by Steve Wilkins, October 31, 2008
It was on this date that Martin Luther nailed his 95 theses on the door of the Wittenburg Church and historically, Protestants have pointed to this action as the spark which ignited the great Reformation of the 16th century. It was not, of course, the spark, if you mean by that the first action to call the church to reform. This had been done numerous times for over two hundred years prior to Luther’s action. But it was the spark in that Luther’s act brought everything that had been done previously to a head and the Reformation came like a flood after it.
But it was no accident that Luther did what he did on “Halloween” — “all saints eve.” The word “hallow” means to “sanctify” (thus we pray “hallowed be Thy name” when we desire God to glorify and exalt His name in the earth). October 31 is the evening prior to All Saints’ Day, which is tomorrow, November 1.
All Saints Day is the celebration of the victory of the all the saints (i.e. all believers) who, because of their union with Christ have triumphed over the world, the flesh, and the devil. The celebration of All Saints Day and All Saints Eve in European Christianity had nothing to do with Celtic paganism or the Church’s opposition to the pagan Druids.
With the coming of Christ and the completion of His work, we no longer fight against flesh and blood, but are told that our primary battle is against principalities and powers, against fallen angels who blind the hearts and minds of men in ignorance and fear. His work purchased our victory and made it certain, but the war is not yet over. Jesus stuck the decisive blow and we have the privilege of carrying out the mopping up operation.
And we do battle against these evil spirits with the weapons given to us by the Spirit, the weapons of faith, prayer, and faithful obedience. It is through our faithful worship, prayer, and obedience that we are victorious in Christ. So, century by century the Christian faith has rolled back the demonic realm of ignorance, fear, and superstition.
The feast of All Saints reminds us of this glorious victory of the Church over Satan and his hosts. In the first centuries, the church followed the Jewish practice of beginning the day at sundown of the preceding evening. Thus, in the Church calendar, the eve of a feast day is the actual beginning of the feast. Sundown on December 24, Christmas Eve, was the official beginning of the Feast of the Nativity. In the same way, All Saints’ Eve (“Halloween”) is the official beginning of the feast of All Saints.
In a sense, the Christian calendar turns the entire year into a drama. Beginning with the Feast of the Incarnation, the world moves progressively from darkness to light. The death of Winter is turned into the resurrection of Spring which corresponds to the Feast of the Resurrection (Easter). Then comes Pentecost and the time of grow and maturity. We do battle with the effects of sin and the curse upon the ground — we fight the weeds and the bugs to protect the seed until the harvest. Now the harvest is coming in and Satan, seeing the defeat of his efforts to destroy us again, seeks one last time to achieve victory before the year’s end. October 31 came to signify that day. Satan seeks to destroy the saints, but he is banished again by the victory of Christ and the joy and gladness that now has filled the earth through the Church.
The Church vanquishes the demonic realm by its joyful worship of the risen and conquering Savior. Because Christ has overcome, we are able to laugh and make merry in the face of evil.
Indeed, this is the place for holy mockery. Satan’s great sin (and our’s as well) is pride. He has been brought down by the Son of God and has suffered a spectacular fall. By the cross and resurrection, Thus, we read that Jesus make a public spectacle of him by virtue of his work on the cross Satan has been exposed as a ridiculous pretender and impostor and has been publicly humiliated (Col 2:15 “Having disarmed principalities and powers, He made a public spectacle of them, triumphing over them in it.”).
Thus, to drive Satan from us, we ridicule him. This is why the custom arose of portraying Satan as being dressed in a red suit with horns and a tail. No one actually thought that he really looked like this (in fact, the Bible teaches that he appears as an angel of light) but the idea was to make fun of him because he has been defeated by the victorious Son and he no longer has power over us. He is not to be feared any longer but resisted steadfast and mocked.
This was the original purpose of placing gargoyles on the cathedrals. They symbolized the Church ridiculing the enemy. They are ridiculous statues who make faces and stick out their tongues at those who would assault the Church. Gargoyles were not demonic symbols but rather they depict the attitude of the Church toward Satan and his angels. They were no longer any threat to us. They cannot do us harm while we abide in Christ Jesus. The church is invincible against the threats and attacks of the evil one. And thus, we who were once slaves of Satan are now able to laugh at and make fun of him.
So, October 31, the eve of All Saints, came to be associated with the defeat of evil and of all demonic powers by Christ and through Christ, by all His people. And it was for this reason, that Martin Luther chose October 31 to post his 95 theses against indulgences and the wicked practices of the Church on the door of the castle church in Wittenburg. He chose this day intentionally, to connect it with the defeat of all things which exalt themselves against Christ and His glorious saving work. And ever since, Halloween has also been the day we mark as the beginning of the Reformation.
All Saints Day (and eve) ought to be celebrated by the Church. And celebrated not as a “harvest festival” (how ironic is it that we attempt to avoid the “paganism” of Halloween by reviving a an ancient pagan form of celebration?) but as a distinctively Christian celebration of the victory of our Savior over the world, the flesh, and the devil.
Friday, October 31, 2008
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
First Piper, now MacArthur
There's some great news coming from Grace to You, the ministry ministry of John MacArthur. Starting next Wednesday, November 5 (the day after the election), Grace to You will announce a new policy, effective immediately, that all of their mp3 downloads of John MacArthur's sermons will be completely free. That's 3500 sermons for free--with no strings (like required registration) attached. Hats off to Grace to You for this generous move! Make sure to visit the site next Wednesday.
Interesting that the prosperity teachers who purport that they are so generous and teach others to be the same, have not done this...hmmm.
Interesting that the prosperity teachers who purport that they are so generous and teach others to be the same, have not done this...hmmm.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
It All Starts With Worship
Pomosexuality---by Douglas Wilson
INTRODUCTION:
As we look around us, we see nations and cultures in disarray. There are so many things going wrong, that it would be quite easy to despair. Where to start? What battles should we fight, and what should we let alone? This is itself quite an important issue, as Martin Luther once wisely noted:
"If I profess, with the loudest voice and clearest exposition, every portion of the truth of God except precisely that little point which the world and the devil are at that moment attacking, I am not confessing Christ, however boldly I may be professing Christ. Where the battle rages there the loyalty of the soldier is proved, and to be steady on all the battle fields besides is mere flight and disgrace if he flinches at that point."
THE TEXT:
"Their idols are silver and gold, the work of men’s hands. They have mouths, but they speak not: eyes have they, but they see not: They have ears, but they hear not: noses have they, but they smell not: They have hands, but they handle not: feet have they, but they walk not: neither speak they through their throat. They that make them are like unto them; so is every one that trusteth in them" (Ps. 115:4-8).
"But we all, with open face beholding as in a glass the glory of the Lord, are changed into the same image from glory to glory, even as by the Spirit of the Lord" (2 Cor. 3:18).
SUMMARY OF THE TEXTS:
We have noted this principle from Scripture before, but it is necessary to state it again in order to make a particular application. We are seeking to understand the disintegration of the culture around us, and in order to do this rightly we have to keep coming back to the foundational principle. Worship drives and shapes all of human existence, and it does so according to this principle: you become like what you worship. Note this principle in our texts. The idolaters in Psalm 115 are worshipping idols that have mouths, but no ability to speak (v. 5). They have eyes, but are blind (v. 5). They have ears, but they are deaf (v. 6). Their noses don’t enable them to smell (v. 6). Their hands cannot handle, and their feet cannot walk (v. 7). Those who make these idols are just like these idols (v. 8). You become like what you worship.
In the other direction, with regard to salvation, we see the same thing. As we behold the glory of the Lord (which we do in worship), we are changed into the same image, from glory to glory. We become increasingly like what we worship (v. 18). Because we worship Jesus Christ, the true and final man, we are growing back up into our full humanity. The image of God is being restored in us by this means. At the coming of the Lord, the capstone of this process will be placed at the top of the living temple. We will become like Him, and why? Because we will see Him as He is (1 Jn. 3:2).
MALLEABLE WORLDS:
Now what does this mean for the materialistic atheist, or for the new age neo-pagans? Both of these groups believe that ultimate reality is infinitely malleable. The materialist believes that matter is eternal and that, given enough time, anything can turn into anything else. In the beginning was an enormous amount of hydrogen, with lots of potential. This is what evolution is all about. Anything can morph into anything else. And for the neo-pagans (and the ancient ones too , the same basic process is occuring, just with a different explanatory mechanism. For Ovid, chaos gave birth to the gods, and they in turn shaped other stuff. And for the rest of his book Metamorphoses, shape shifting was the order of the day. This is basic to the unbelieving mind. And it is the theological/religious explanation for all forms of gender bending, not to mention Michael Jackson’s face. People today genuinely believe that it is possible to "reinvent oneself."
CONFUSION BELOW:
Sexual boundaries follow the same kind of pattern. The revolt of our current generation against the triune God (who made heaven and earth) is a revolt in the direction of a pagan polytheism—multiple gods, multiple voices, multiple laws, and a general clamor out of which it is possible to select whatever suits him at the time. The political name for this is pluralism, and the philosophical and cultural name for it is postmodernism. Radically relativistic (whether it means to be or not), it has fallen off the cliff and cannot be prevented from eventually hitting the craggy rocks below—nihilism and despair. But while falling, a number of people have the temporary sensation of absolute freedom, and they seek to use that freedom in the creation and pursuit of various sexualities. And that is why we are now dealing with metrosexuals, sodomites, catamites, lesbians, virtual perverts, bisexuals, and transgendered individuals—not to mention the ecclesiastical variants, the lesbyterians. Sometime in the next ten years, look for more to push to the front of the line, all demanding societial respectability—pederasty and bestiality included. But because all this is a function of sexual postmodernism, we should simply call all of it pomosexuality. You cannot believe that ultimate reality is ultimately malleable, and yet not believe the world we live in is equally malleable.
AND GOD DIVIDED EVERYTHING:
But in the world created by the triune God of Scripture, the boundaries don’t blur—like a watercolor left out in the rain. God divides, and He loves to call those divisions good. God created heaven and earth, which created the fundamental division between that which is God and that which is not God. The gulf there is an infinite one, and God called what was on the other side of the divide from Him good (Gen. ). Having done this much, God was on a roll, and He divided the sun and moon, the sea and dry land, the earth and sky, and He kept calling all of it good (Gen. 1:4,10, 18). And then, at the pinnacle of creation, male and female He created them, in the image of God He created them (Gen. 1:27). God made Adam into two, so that He could bring Adam and Eve back into one—with a richer unity this time, one that presupposes genuine division.
WORSHIP SHAPES CULTURE:
If you want to be healthy, you should eat three good meals a day. This is generally true. But if you apply the rule when you are in the grip of the flu, all you are doing is giving yourself something to throw up. In this fallen world, should the laws reject pomosexual marriages, liasons, and perverse unions? Of course. But should we fight the battle there when the general pattern of worship is given over to pagan assumptions? You are only giving the culture something to throw up. This does not mean that there is no Savior for our culture; it simply means that our culture is not that savior. It means further that our culture is the skid row bum needing to be saved. And so what should we do? Worship the Father in the power of the Spirit in the name of the Son.
INTRODUCTION:
As we look around us, we see nations and cultures in disarray. There are so many things going wrong, that it would be quite easy to despair. Where to start? What battles should we fight, and what should we let alone? This is itself quite an important issue, as Martin Luther once wisely noted:
"If I profess, with the loudest voice and clearest exposition, every portion of the truth of God except precisely that little point which the world and the devil are at that moment attacking, I am not confessing Christ, however boldly I may be professing Christ. Where the battle rages there the loyalty of the soldier is proved, and to be steady on all the battle fields besides is mere flight and disgrace if he flinches at that point."
THE TEXT:
"Their idols are silver and gold, the work of men’s hands. They have mouths, but they speak not: eyes have they, but they see not: They have ears, but they hear not: noses have they, but they smell not: They have hands, but they handle not: feet have they, but they walk not: neither speak they through their throat. They that make them are like unto them; so is every one that trusteth in them" (Ps. 115:4-8).
"But we all, with open face beholding as in a glass the glory of the Lord, are changed into the same image from glory to glory, even as by the Spirit of the Lord" (2 Cor. 3:18).
SUMMARY OF THE TEXTS:
We have noted this principle from Scripture before, but it is necessary to state it again in order to make a particular application. We are seeking to understand the disintegration of the culture around us, and in order to do this rightly we have to keep coming back to the foundational principle. Worship drives and shapes all of human existence, and it does so according to this principle: you become like what you worship. Note this principle in our texts. The idolaters in Psalm 115 are worshipping idols that have mouths, but no ability to speak (v. 5). They have eyes, but are blind (v. 5). They have ears, but they are deaf (v. 6). Their noses don’t enable them to smell (v. 6). Their hands cannot handle, and their feet cannot walk (v. 7). Those who make these idols are just like these idols (v. 8). You become like what you worship.
In the other direction, with regard to salvation, we see the same thing. As we behold the glory of the Lord (which we do in worship), we are changed into the same image, from glory to glory. We become increasingly like what we worship (v. 18). Because we worship Jesus Christ, the true and final man, we are growing back up into our full humanity. The image of God is being restored in us by this means. At the coming of the Lord, the capstone of this process will be placed at the top of the living temple. We will become like Him, and why? Because we will see Him as He is (1 Jn. 3:2).
MALLEABLE WORLDS:
Now what does this mean for the materialistic atheist, or for the new age neo-pagans? Both of these groups believe that ultimate reality is infinitely malleable. The materialist believes that matter is eternal and that, given enough time, anything can turn into anything else. In the beginning was an enormous amount of hydrogen, with lots of potential. This is what evolution is all about. Anything can morph into anything else. And for the neo-pagans (and the ancient ones too , the same basic process is occuring, just with a different explanatory mechanism. For Ovid, chaos gave birth to the gods, and they in turn shaped other stuff. And for the rest of his book Metamorphoses, shape shifting was the order of the day. This is basic to the unbelieving mind. And it is the theological/religious explanation for all forms of gender bending, not to mention Michael Jackson’s face. People today genuinely believe that it is possible to "reinvent oneself."
CONFUSION BELOW:
Sexual boundaries follow the same kind of pattern. The revolt of our current generation against the triune God (who made heaven and earth) is a revolt in the direction of a pagan polytheism—multiple gods, multiple voices, multiple laws, and a general clamor out of which it is possible to select whatever suits him at the time. The political name for this is pluralism, and the philosophical and cultural name for it is postmodernism. Radically relativistic (whether it means to be or not), it has fallen off the cliff and cannot be prevented from eventually hitting the craggy rocks below—nihilism and despair. But while falling, a number of people have the temporary sensation of absolute freedom, and they seek to use that freedom in the creation and pursuit of various sexualities. And that is why we are now dealing with metrosexuals, sodomites, catamites, lesbians, virtual perverts, bisexuals, and transgendered individuals—not to mention the ecclesiastical variants, the lesbyterians. Sometime in the next ten years, look for more to push to the front of the line, all demanding societial respectability—pederasty and bestiality included. But because all this is a function of sexual postmodernism, we should simply call all of it pomosexuality. You cannot believe that ultimate reality is ultimately malleable, and yet not believe the world we live in is equally malleable.
AND GOD DIVIDED EVERYTHING:
But in the world created by the triune God of Scripture, the boundaries don’t blur—like a watercolor left out in the rain. God divides, and He loves to call those divisions good. God created heaven and earth, which created the fundamental division between that which is God and that which is not God. The gulf there is an infinite one, and God called what was on the other side of the divide from Him good (Gen. ). Having done this much, God was on a roll, and He divided the sun and moon, the sea and dry land, the earth and sky, and He kept calling all of it good (Gen. 1:4,10, 18). And then, at the pinnacle of creation, male and female He created them, in the image of God He created them (Gen. 1:27). God made Adam into two, so that He could bring Adam and Eve back into one—with a richer unity this time, one that presupposes genuine division.
WORSHIP SHAPES CULTURE:
If you want to be healthy, you should eat three good meals a day. This is generally true. But if you apply the rule when you are in the grip of the flu, all you are doing is giving yourself something to throw up. In this fallen world, should the laws reject pomosexual marriages, liasons, and perverse unions? Of course. But should we fight the battle there when the general pattern of worship is given over to pagan assumptions? You are only giving the culture something to throw up. This does not mean that there is no Savior for our culture; it simply means that our culture is not that savior. It means further that our culture is the skid row bum needing to be saved. And so what should we do? Worship the Father in the power of the Spirit in the name of the Son.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
The Good Ol' Hockey Game
---by Tim Challies
"Hey, Drew! What's happening?"
That's Darryl talking. He's the guy who does second-level technical support in the office. If his minions can't get the job done, they call on him. He's the big gun. But he's known around the office primarily for being a hockey fan, and not just a guy who dabbles in the game either. This guy is hardcore. He has had season tickets for as long as he can remember, and those things aren't cheap in Toronto. He spends thousands of dollars every year and goes to every home game. If the Leafs are on the road, he's in his living room, watching the game. Sometimes he even travels to Buffalo or Ottawa to cheer on the team. Every year he buys a new team jersey. Not the imitations, mind you, but the genuine jersey endorsed by the team - the one with the draw strings and the little vents under the armpits. The ones that cost $350.
"Oh, hey man. Not much," said Drew. Drew is in the sales team and has an office down the hall from Darryl.
"Doing anything exciting this weekend?"
"Not really. I was just going to hang around with the family. Maybe mow the lawn."
"I've got an extra ticket to the game on Saturday. Do you want to go?"
Darryl is always giving away tickets to the game. Hockey is not nearly as enjoyable when a fan watches the game alone. And his wife had long since tired of going to the games with him.
"I don't know. I'm not a big hockey fan."
"Dude! These are eighty dollar tickets! People wait in line for hours for these things."
Drew looked around the room. He looked everywhere but at Darryl. A bit sheepishly he replied, "Problem is, I don't really understand the game. You know, it's all good for you, but for me it's kind of embarrassing sitting in a room with 20,000 people who all know what's going on when I don't have a clue."
Drew had grown up in England and had just moved to Canada a few years earlier. Like all Brits he had a fascination with soccer (well, football, actually), and also enjoyed watching some rugby. He had never really caught on to cricket, though he had had to play it all the way through school.
Darryl lowered his voice a little bit. "This game will be perfect for you. There are so many people in the country that don't understand the game anymore that the league has decided to make Saturday night games Inquirer Games."
"What's an Inquirer Game?"
"It's a lot like the regular game, but it's designed specifically for people who just aren't comfortable stepping into an arena. Some people have had bad experiences with arenas in the past, and some just don't understand what's going on. So these games try to bridge that gap."
"But I just wouldn't enjoy it! I don't know when to sit down, when to stand up, when to cheer, when to boo!"
"Drew! It's an Inquirer Game! It doesn't matter if you stand or sit. You can boo or cheer whenever you want. Heck, you can do the wave all on your own if you want."
"Have you seen the rule book for hockey? It has to be 300 pages. At least! I'll have no idea what's going on!"
"You don't need to know the rules to have a good time. Just go, be yourself and have fun. It's going to be a great night!"
Drew sighed. He felt defeated. "Alright, I'll go."
*****
Saturday night rolled around and precisely two hours before game time, Darryl pulled up in front of Drew's house. Drew was waiting anxiously inside the door. He gave his wife a quick kiss and walked out to the car.
"This is going to be great," Darryl said. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt.
"I thought you'd be wearing your jersey."
"I usually do, but not for the Inquirer Games. They ask us not to in case they make other people feel like there is some kind of dress code. It can also offend out-of-towners if they're cheering for the other team."
As they drove Darryl chatted, rambling on about the Maple Leafs - his favorite players, the strength of the organization and the growth in the popularity of the sport. Drew nodded politely when appropriate and answered questions when required. But mostly he sat in silence.
Finally they pulled into a lot near the stadium that was prominently marked with a sign emblazoned with the word "Inquirers."
"Lots of parking," Drew remarked as he watched a man in a blue vest cleaning up bits of paper and trash from the ground. Other men in blue blazers were directing traffic.
"Yup. A stadium can't survive if there isn't lots of parking, can it?" said Darryl cheerfully.
They walked towards the arena. As they approached the door, another man in a blue vest smiled warmly a took a step towards them. Plastered to his vest was a printed sticker that read, "Hello My Name Is STAN." "Hi! My name's Stan. Is this your first time here?" He seemed genuinely friendly.
Darryl replied for both of them. "Not for me, but it is for him. I'm Darryl and this is Drew."
"Welcome! Welcome! We're glad to have you here today. Tonight we're hoping that everyone will wear name tags. Is it okay if I make one for you?"
Darryl nodded. Stan walked over to a table that had stacks of stickers and a few Sharpies lying on it. He returned a moment later with stickers for each of them. After putting the stickers on their chests and handing them a few pieces of paper they shook hands with Stan and walked into the stadium.
"You know," Darryl said. "They usually call this the 'Air Canada Centre.' But for Inquirer Games they prefer to call it an activity centre."
A table laden with coffee and donuts stood inside the front door. "Grab something to eat. They know that some people don't have time to eat before they get here, so they always have lots of donuts and coffee at these Inquirer Games." Drew mumbled something he thought sounded polite. But by this time his eyes were wide. He looked around the activity centre, taking in the thousands of seats, quickly filling with other people, most of whom were wearing name tags.
"24E and 24F. Here we are!"
They sat down. Their seats were red and padded. Quite comfortable, especially in comparison to the hard benches that pass for seating in the stadium back in London. Drew took the opportunity to look through the papers Stan had given him.
"What's with the suggestion card?," he asked Darryl.
"If you think of some things that would make the game better, jot them down and turn the card in at the end of the game. They're always looking to make the game better."
"But I don't know anything about the game. I don't even like the game!"
"But that's what makes your input valuable. Just tell them what would make you like the game."
Drew shook his head.
"Is that a band down there?" he asked, pointing to a group of guys hastily arranging their instruments just beyond the glass on the far side of the activity centre.
"Yup. They're called The Forwards. They play during the Inquirer Games. There's still an organ that plays during other games, but they know that it's an old-school instrument and people don't really relate to it anymore. So they brought in a band. These guys rock!"
A few minutes later the band began to play, "Take Me Out To The BallGame," substituting a few words here and there to make it appropriate to hockey. The words flashed up on the video screens overhead and a few people joined in the music. Most just talked amongst themselves, biding their time. A few minutes later they launched into a rocking version of "The Good Old Hockey Game." They bypassed the verses and chose instead to simply repeat the chorus.
Oh! The good old hockey game,
Is the best game you can name;
And the best game you can name,
Is the good old Hockey game!
Five minutes after the game was supposed to have started the announcer sounded over the loudspeakers. Drew glanced to Darryl and whispered, "Aren't they going to sing the national anthem?"
Darryl smiled. "No, some people don't like it. Especially Americans. So they don't sing it at these games. I mean, come on! Nobody ever sings the anthem anymore excepting at sporting events, so they leave it out."
The announcer spoke up. "Ladies and gentlemen. We'd like to welcome you to tonight's game featuring the Toronto Maple Leafs at the Ottawa Senators."
Drew quickly tuned him out. Or he did until the announcer began to introduce people.
"Tonight's facilitator for the Toronto Maple Leafs is Roooonnnnnn Wilson!"
"What's a facilitator?"
"They used to call them coaches, but people associate that with hierarchy. So at these games, instead of telling the players what to do, they facilitate a game plan where all of the players contribute. Quinn's job tonight is to help all of the players understand how they can be better players and better people."
Players began to file onto the ice.
"Hey Darryl, why aren't they wearing uniforms?"
"It's an Inquirer Game. If they wore uniforms they wouldn't fit in, would they?"
"So how do we tell them apart? They're all wearing jeans and t-shirts."
"That's the point, man. We're here for them as much as they're here for us. We don't need to be able to tell them apart."
"Aren't there usually lines on the ice? A red one and two blues?"
"You'd see them if you came back next week, but they take them off for these games. They confuse people too much."
"Gotcha!"
The game began with a bang. The Leafs won the faceoff and their forwards sped down the ice. It was then that Drew noticed the net was undefended. "What happened to the tender?"
"You call him a goalie in hockey. We don't need 'em. This is a celebration! No goalies means more goals and that means more celebrating!" Darryl stood up and did a spontaneous, solo wave. No one seemed to disapprove.
The puck found its way into the opposing team's net and the crowd went wild. The band struck up a rousing chorus repeating the words, "Go Leafs Go" just a few times too many.
The referee waved his semaphore (whistles being far too obnoxious, outdated and difficult to understand) and the action began again.
Drew was beginning to enjoy himself. This wasn't so bad, was it? No one cared if he knew the game or not. No one cared if he didn't know when to cheer or boo or even if he despised the game itself. They were just glad that he was here to celebrate with them.
Two hours later the game wrapped up with the home team winning 86 to 73. Drew's face was positively glowing. His eyes were bright and his hands were red from clapping.
"So did you have a good time," asked Darryl as he headed towards the parking lot, his voice hoarse from shouting and cheering.
"I did! It was great."
For a moment Drew looked pensive. A little quieter he said, "But it wasn't really hockey was it? I mean...I still don't know anything about the game."
Darryl smirked. "Not if you mean hockey the way your grandpa played it. And not if you mean hockey the way the rule book tells you to play it. But you had a good time, right?"
"Yeah, it was great!"
"Then that's what matters, right? You had a good time."
"I guess so. Do you have an extra ticket for next Saturday?"
"Hey, Drew! What's happening?"
That's Darryl talking. He's the guy who does second-level technical support in the office. If his minions can't get the job done, they call on him. He's the big gun. But he's known around the office primarily for being a hockey fan, and not just a guy who dabbles in the game either. This guy is hardcore. He has had season tickets for as long as he can remember, and those things aren't cheap in Toronto. He spends thousands of dollars every year and goes to every home game. If the Leafs are on the road, he's in his living room, watching the game. Sometimes he even travels to Buffalo or Ottawa to cheer on the team. Every year he buys a new team jersey. Not the imitations, mind you, but the genuine jersey endorsed by the team - the one with the draw strings and the little vents under the armpits. The ones that cost $350.
"Oh, hey man. Not much," said Drew. Drew is in the sales team and has an office down the hall from Darryl.
"Doing anything exciting this weekend?"
"Not really. I was just going to hang around with the family. Maybe mow the lawn."
"I've got an extra ticket to the game on Saturday. Do you want to go?"
Darryl is always giving away tickets to the game. Hockey is not nearly as enjoyable when a fan watches the game alone. And his wife had long since tired of going to the games with him.
"I don't know. I'm not a big hockey fan."
"Dude! These are eighty dollar tickets! People wait in line for hours for these things."
Drew looked around the room. He looked everywhere but at Darryl. A bit sheepishly he replied, "Problem is, I don't really understand the game. You know, it's all good for you, but for me it's kind of embarrassing sitting in a room with 20,000 people who all know what's going on when I don't have a clue."
Drew had grown up in England and had just moved to Canada a few years earlier. Like all Brits he had a fascination with soccer (well, football, actually), and also enjoyed watching some rugby. He had never really caught on to cricket, though he had had to play it all the way through school.
Darryl lowered his voice a little bit. "This game will be perfect for you. There are so many people in the country that don't understand the game anymore that the league has decided to make Saturday night games Inquirer Games."
"What's an Inquirer Game?"
"It's a lot like the regular game, but it's designed specifically for people who just aren't comfortable stepping into an arena. Some people have had bad experiences with arenas in the past, and some just don't understand what's going on. So these games try to bridge that gap."
"But I just wouldn't enjoy it! I don't know when to sit down, when to stand up, when to cheer, when to boo!"
"Drew! It's an Inquirer Game! It doesn't matter if you stand or sit. You can boo or cheer whenever you want. Heck, you can do the wave all on your own if you want."
"Have you seen the rule book for hockey? It has to be 300 pages. At least! I'll have no idea what's going on!"
"You don't need to know the rules to have a good time. Just go, be yourself and have fun. It's going to be a great night!"
Drew sighed. He felt defeated. "Alright, I'll go."
*****
Saturday night rolled around and precisely two hours before game time, Darryl pulled up in front of Drew's house. Drew was waiting anxiously inside the door. He gave his wife a quick kiss and walked out to the car.
"This is going to be great," Darryl said. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt.
"I thought you'd be wearing your jersey."
"I usually do, but not for the Inquirer Games. They ask us not to in case they make other people feel like there is some kind of dress code. It can also offend out-of-towners if they're cheering for the other team."
As they drove Darryl chatted, rambling on about the Maple Leafs - his favorite players, the strength of the organization and the growth in the popularity of the sport. Drew nodded politely when appropriate and answered questions when required. But mostly he sat in silence.
Finally they pulled into a lot near the stadium that was prominently marked with a sign emblazoned with the word "Inquirers."
"Lots of parking," Drew remarked as he watched a man in a blue vest cleaning up bits of paper and trash from the ground. Other men in blue blazers were directing traffic.
"Yup. A stadium can't survive if there isn't lots of parking, can it?" said Darryl cheerfully.
They walked towards the arena. As they approached the door, another man in a blue vest smiled warmly a took a step towards them. Plastered to his vest was a printed sticker that read, "Hello My Name Is STAN." "Hi! My name's Stan. Is this your first time here?" He seemed genuinely friendly.
Darryl replied for both of them. "Not for me, but it is for him. I'm Darryl and this is Drew."
"Welcome! Welcome! We're glad to have you here today. Tonight we're hoping that everyone will wear name tags. Is it okay if I make one for you?"
Darryl nodded. Stan walked over to a table that had stacks of stickers and a few Sharpies lying on it. He returned a moment later with stickers for each of them. After putting the stickers on their chests and handing them a few pieces of paper they shook hands with Stan and walked into the stadium.
"You know," Darryl said. "They usually call this the 'Air Canada Centre.' But for Inquirer Games they prefer to call it an activity centre."
A table laden with coffee and donuts stood inside the front door. "Grab something to eat. They know that some people don't have time to eat before they get here, so they always have lots of donuts and coffee at these Inquirer Games." Drew mumbled something he thought sounded polite. But by this time his eyes were wide. He looked around the activity centre, taking in the thousands of seats, quickly filling with other people, most of whom were wearing name tags.
"24E and 24F. Here we are!"
They sat down. Their seats were red and padded. Quite comfortable, especially in comparison to the hard benches that pass for seating in the stadium back in London. Drew took the opportunity to look through the papers Stan had given him.
"What's with the suggestion card?," he asked Darryl.
"If you think of some things that would make the game better, jot them down and turn the card in at the end of the game. They're always looking to make the game better."
"But I don't know anything about the game. I don't even like the game!"
"But that's what makes your input valuable. Just tell them what would make you like the game."
Drew shook his head.
"Is that a band down there?" he asked, pointing to a group of guys hastily arranging their instruments just beyond the glass on the far side of the activity centre.
"Yup. They're called The Forwards. They play during the Inquirer Games. There's still an organ that plays during other games, but they know that it's an old-school instrument and people don't really relate to it anymore. So they brought in a band. These guys rock!"
A few minutes later the band began to play, "Take Me Out To The BallGame," substituting a few words here and there to make it appropriate to hockey. The words flashed up on the video screens overhead and a few people joined in the music. Most just talked amongst themselves, biding their time. A few minutes later they launched into a rocking version of "The Good Old Hockey Game." They bypassed the verses and chose instead to simply repeat the chorus.
Oh! The good old hockey game,
Is the best game you can name;
And the best game you can name,
Is the good old Hockey game!
Five minutes after the game was supposed to have started the announcer sounded over the loudspeakers. Drew glanced to Darryl and whispered, "Aren't they going to sing the national anthem?"
Darryl smiled. "No, some people don't like it. Especially Americans. So they don't sing it at these games. I mean, come on! Nobody ever sings the anthem anymore excepting at sporting events, so they leave it out."
The announcer spoke up. "Ladies and gentlemen. We'd like to welcome you to tonight's game featuring the Toronto Maple Leafs at the Ottawa Senators."
Drew quickly tuned him out. Or he did until the announcer began to introduce people.
"Tonight's facilitator for the Toronto Maple Leafs is Roooonnnnnn Wilson!"
"What's a facilitator?"
"They used to call them coaches, but people associate that with hierarchy. So at these games, instead of telling the players what to do, they facilitate a game plan where all of the players contribute. Quinn's job tonight is to help all of the players understand how they can be better players and better people."
Players began to file onto the ice.
"Hey Darryl, why aren't they wearing uniforms?"
"It's an Inquirer Game. If they wore uniforms they wouldn't fit in, would they?"
"So how do we tell them apart? They're all wearing jeans and t-shirts."
"That's the point, man. We're here for them as much as they're here for us. We don't need to be able to tell them apart."
"Aren't there usually lines on the ice? A red one and two blues?"
"You'd see them if you came back next week, but they take them off for these games. They confuse people too much."
"Gotcha!"
The game began with a bang. The Leafs won the faceoff and their forwards sped down the ice. It was then that Drew noticed the net was undefended. "What happened to the tender?"
"You call him a goalie in hockey. We don't need 'em. This is a celebration! No goalies means more goals and that means more celebrating!" Darryl stood up and did a spontaneous, solo wave. No one seemed to disapprove.
The puck found its way into the opposing team's net and the crowd went wild. The band struck up a rousing chorus repeating the words, "Go Leafs Go" just a few times too many.
The referee waved his semaphore (whistles being far too obnoxious, outdated and difficult to understand) and the action began again.
Drew was beginning to enjoy himself. This wasn't so bad, was it? No one cared if he knew the game or not. No one cared if he didn't know when to cheer or boo or even if he despised the game itself. They were just glad that he was here to celebrate with them.
Two hours later the game wrapped up with the home team winning 86 to 73. Drew's face was positively glowing. His eyes were bright and his hands were red from clapping.
"So did you have a good time," asked Darryl as he headed towards the parking lot, his voice hoarse from shouting and cheering.
"I did! It was great."
For a moment Drew looked pensive. A little quieter he said, "But it wasn't really hockey was it? I mean...I still don't know anything about the game."
Darryl smirked. "Not if you mean hockey the way your grandpa played it. And not if you mean hockey the way the rule book tells you to play it. But you had a good time, right?"
"Yeah, it was great!"
"Then that's what matters, right? You had a good time."
"I guess so. Do you have an extra ticket for next Saturday?"
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
And the next Doug Wilson post
from his "Thumbnail Church History" series
http://www.dougwils.com/index.asp?Action=Anchor&CategoryID=1&BlogID=5975
http://www.dougwils.com/index.asp?Action=Anchor&CategoryID=1&BlogID=5975
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