Journal of Sacred Work

If you want to assess the mood of some American males with whom you work or live, check the sports page on Monday morning.  – Erie Chapman

   I know there are plenty of exceptions – that millions of men and tens of millions of women could care less about sports. But scan the television screen on Saturday and Sunday afternoons and you will
see a fascinating phenomena. Grown men (and some women) who may otherwise seem sane the rest of the week, who will don suits for work on Monday morning, who would never think of shouting in a business meeting,
have actually painted their faces various colors, stripped off their shirts, put feathers in their hair, tatooed their bodies, and done everything they can to imitate savage behavior including screaming their heads off – all on behalf of their beloved team…

   Saturday afternoon, I watched something very painful for me and any
loyal alumnus of Northwestern University. The Wildcats (my team) were
ahead 38-3 midway through the third quarter against the much stronger
and much bigger Michigan
State Spartans. Who could lose with that kind of lead? Northwestern,
not unlike Vanderbilt (who also lost on Saturday) has a long tradition of loss in football. But their alumni are still loyal. My alma mater even sells mailboxes in the shape of a football helmet (see left.)
   By halftime, some Spartan fans, convinced no team could overcome
such a deficit, were leaving the stadium in disgust. Having watched my team lose so often, I wasn’t so sure. There was still a quarter and a half left. And you guessed
it,  Michigan State, in the most astonishing comeback I’ve ever seen in
college football, came back to win 41-38 in the final seconds.
   What the devil is the relationship between this nonsense and caregiving? I’ve been wondering for a long time why millions of people worldwide become so fired up about who wins a given game. In almost every case, in almost every major sport I can think of (except ice hockey) the outcome is determined by what people do with some kind of ball and how it’s made to move. And yet so many people are so fanatically committed to the outcome of a game that it’s common to see fans with their hands together in prayer during tense moments in a game. Do they supposed that God is carefully weighing the prayers of different fans and deciding the game accordingly?
   Unlike Roman times, game losers are not put to death as sometimes happened in gladiatorial contests
(see sculpture at left.) But from the faces of losers in football, baseball, basketball or soccer, you’d think someone died.   
   With respect to men, the usual explanation from psychologists for their energy and passion around games has something to do with testosterone – the energy this hormone provides to stimulate aggression and the desire to conquer. Women, of course, have various amounts of testosterone as well. But, even putting aside this factor, plenty of women seem to develop equally strong attachments to their team – to experience great highs of energy when their team wins and near depression when their team falls.
   The late Vince Lombardi said it: "Winning isn’t everything it’s the only thing." Less well known is the fact that Lombardi said one of his biggest regrets was making this statement. The idea that winning is the only thing is one of the most non-Christian, unloving ideas I can imagine. I think Lombardi came to agree with this and that was the cause for his regret.
   Human egos can become so blended with a given team or organization that winning and losing
becomes personal rather than organizational. Placing so much stake in winning may well be at the root of many of the ethical problems within some American corporations. Worldcom, Enron, HealthSouth come to mind as well as, at one point in the late 1990s, the giant hospital corporation, HCA.
   Is it because there is so much in life over which we have so little influence that sports seem like a harmless way to engage the game of life – to vent some of the aggression we are not allowed to release in other settings?
  But what happens to energy when the ego is so identified with a team or a thing (a car?) or a relationship that the human being seems depressed in the face of loss? If my body chemistry were measured at the moment my team went down to defeat in a close match, I think it would show a negative change comparable to other kinds of more serious losses in life. Slowly, I’m learning. Hopefully my learning about games is transferring to other, more important areas of life.
   As with most things I write in the Journal, there are valuable teachings about human loss and victory that can be analogized from games to real life

1) Competitive Poison: The leaders of far too many hospitals and charities focus way too much energy on "beating the competition" instead of working to strengthen a culture of loving care in their organization. Part of the reason for this is an excess of male energy in caregiving organizations (whether run by a male or a female.) Hospitals and charities are not football teams. They should be dedicated to serving the vulnerable, not to defeating other charities.

2) Indifference: A typical way to make loss in a game more bearable is to say, out loud, "Well, it’s just a game." This is a simple technique for regaining perspective and can work when it really is just a football game. But what do people say who have lost a loved one? I’ve heard some people say, at funerals, "Well, I guess we all die."  Common psychological defenses used by many couples when faced with divorce may be lines like, "I never really loved him (or her) anyway." Or, "I always knew he (she) was a rat." Losing a human relationship is painful. Losing a rat sounds like a good thing. It shields us from some of the pain that arises from the betrayal we may be feeling. But adopting an affect of indifference is, ultimately, cold comfort. It can also block us from forming new meaningful relationships to protect our egos and our hearts from any risk of betrayal. When we do this, we turn our backs on some of the richest gifts life has to offer.

3) Perspective: The Stages of Regaining Balance: All of this brings us back to the wisdom of the late Elisabeth Kubler-Ross, M.D. who was perhaps the world’s leading authority on the grieving process.
She identified several stages humans go through when facing loss (click on diagram at left to enlarge.) All of these apply to the process of any loss. Here are the stages again – with my editorial comments connected to game outcomes:

• Denial (this isn’t happening to me!- The referee made a mistake)
        
• Anger (why is this happening to me? – My team was ahead, how could they lose.)
        
• Bargaining (I promise I’ll be a better person if…the video replay shows my team won.)
        
• Depression (I don’t care anymore and I’ll never watch another game – until next weekend)
        
• Acceptance (I’m ready for whatever comes. I’m back in balance and have regained my cognitive thinking ability.)

   The relevance of Kubler-Ross’ stages is the idea that we can’t usually skip the first four and land at Acceptance. Healthy grieving requires that we find the courage to work past denial, avoid aiming anger at the innocent other, let go of trying to change the unchangeable through bargaining, find balance in the midst of grieving, and recover the balance that comes from acceptance.
   Here comes the Serenity Prayer: God grant me the courage to accept the things I can’t change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.
   All the wisdom to deal with loss (or victory or life itself) is contained in these words.
   As a practical matter, however, I would not recommend you reading this to someone right after their beloved team loses. Duh. When people are in the midst of anger or depression, cognitive thinking has little value. People grieving loss, whether of a game or a courtroom trial, or a marriage, don’t want lecturing.

1. 
      What do they want? They want one thing from us: our compassionate presence (or compassionate absence until they can recover.) This is what Job* wanted from his friends in the face of his suffering.  He knew they couldn’t solve his problems, he needed (and apparently didn’t get) their loving presence.

   When I’m upset, I don’t want someone else to read the stages of grieving to me and point out what stage I’m in. I want them to listen for what I need, to sympathize with the loss-energy I’m experiencing, perhaps to share the burden. Later on, when I recover, maybe I’ll discover that I’ve been attaching too much importance to a given team or a given thing or even a given relationship.
   Caregivers face loss with such frequency that cultivating compassionate presence is of critical importance. Whether its something that seems as frivolous as a football game or as significant as a cancer diagnosis, the trials of Job, or a death, it’s loving presence that is the gift that is so often needed.
   When someone near us shows the face of defeat and frustration, the truth is they are suffering the toxic energy of loss. Love them by how you are present.
   If you are the one who is feeling the weight of loss today, may God bless you and bring you the light of Love’s presence in your suffering.

Blessings to you,
-Erie Chapman

(*The painting portraying Job and his "friends" is by 15th century artist Jean Fouquet.)