Striking

A few days ago a friend described me as a boxer and football player, and then remarked about my peaceful disposition. In his few short words, he expressed that boxers and football players are not often calm and peaceful. They are often thought of as forceful, emotional and quick tempered: personality traits he did not associate with me. Such a contrast creates a paradox, a sense of enigma, for it is not often we find our views of this world conflicting with the reality of others lives. His unspoken question, "how can a peaceful person partake of violent sports," went unanswered. As I reflect on his question, I do not have a simple answer. Love. Like I said, not simple.

I do not love violence, but I love moving. I love striking. There is something thrilling in the execution of a solid punch, or the crack of a precise tackle. There is something glorious in a solid defense. Either the duck and dodge, evading incoming blows, or the hands of an offense player keeping his teammate safe. There is nothing wrong in these movements. But occasionally there is something wrong in how they are carried out. I have vivid memories of a few times I have felt anger in the hands of teammates. It is one thing to know an opponent dislikes you, that is to be expected, but it is another to feel the anger of a teammate in his hands as he strikes you. It's a disgusting feeling. An enraging feeling. And rage is anger out of check.

Why is anger and rage a part of sport? Why is it that we associate these emotions with sports, even those that do not strike? Often the first emotion I see when I see a team start losing is rage. Someone breaks out in an angry shout. Equipment gets thrown. Cursing follows. Why? Why is it that defeat is visible, tangible and irrational? Does anger make us any stronger? It may cause a momentary adrenaline rush, but the rush fades, and it fogs our minds. Adrenaline, like any drug, takes stronger doses to get the same feeling, unless the body is given time to recover. If adrenaline use, for the purpose of fueling ourselves with anger, is left unchecked, we toe a line that can make adrenaline our only competitive savior: the only way we can summon the energy to win. Should we consistently behave this way, there is an emotional price to be paid.

I do not relish striking with anger. As such I try to avoid striking with rage or malice in my heart. Occasionally I do, but I do not wish for anger to become the source of my strength. Anger is a quick burning fuel; when it burns it consumes more than just energy, it takes a little bit of our calm, peace and love with it too. It becomes hard to focus on these things while we are angry. Anger is not sin, but it is an open doorway to dangerous and costly actions; we simply stop thinking about what we do and the consequences involved. I love striking, but I do not strike out of anger. I strike as a way of focusing my body into a precise movement that takes all of my attention, all of my being. I strike with purpose and care, not swinging wildly like a brawler or frightened school child. Striking precisely with my hands, shoulders and feet helps me strike precisely with my mind. And occasionally I practice striking at very slow speeds so that I can learn how to properly land a quick movement.

Did Jesus ever strike with such care? Did he ever strike so fast and precisely that he left his opponents wondering what happened? Did he slowly practice his striking, preparing for the day when he would talk action? Yes, he did:
"And they came to Jerusalem. And he entered the temple and began to drive out those who sold and those who bought in the temple, and he overturned the tables of the money-changers and the seats of those who sold pigeons. And he would not allow anyone to carry anything through the temple. And he was teaching them and saying to them, 'Is it not written, "My house shall be called a house of prayer for all the nations?" But you have made it a den of robbers.' And the chief priests and the scribes heard it and were seeking a way to destroy him, for they feared him,"

Let me explain this with a western edge: Jesus forced the cheats and liars out of the temple. He flipped over the carts and kiosks of the con-men who were taking advantage of the pious poor. He stopped people from making the temple a means to an end. He stopped people from walking over the temple because they were too lazy to walk around it. He openly accused those in authority of their purposeful misuse and abuse of his Father's house. He accused them of closing the temple towards outsiders. He accused them of creating an in-crowd. He accused them while they were watching. That day he openly confronted their thieving. The crowd listened to his words, and all the while the authorities sat back in the shadows afraid to confront him in the open. Jesus struck openly, intently, with a ferocious sense of indignation flowing from the love of his Father's house, and the people who should have been safe within it's walls. Jesus is a precise striker.

Jesus actions in the temple do not bear the mark of a man driven by anger or rage. Although they appear to be his dominant emotions. Jesus is in complete control of himself, even though this tale is full of violent imagery. Jesus had a stronger motivation, a motivation that would take him far beyond clearing the temple. His last week in Jerusalem, he confronts the religious authorities. He exposes their reliance on man-made laws, tells stories about unfaithful and corrupt tenants, he attacks their false doctrines and puts a spotlight on their filthy lives. He expertly disarms every faction of the religious authorities, by showing how little they know about their God, and the public cheers for him! This is why the authorities decided to kill him.

 His motivation is what I strive for when I strike. An action that has a greater and more significant purpose. The action is more complex than the visual. Jesus is still a man of peace, even though he lands crippling blows of criticism. Jesus is still be a man motivated by love, even when he looks angry and out of his mind. Jesus, who we often make out to be a simple quiet man, is very complex. To understand him as a person, one has to study how, when and why he strikes.

Jesus is not simple. As we come to understand his motivation, we come to understand his complex and puzzling movements; we begin to understand his mission. Jesus occasionally appears as a contradiction to his own cause; that is only because we don't understand how he strikes.