Photo by Kavin Mistry/NHLI via Getty Images
This was a chance to extend a hand to the marginalized, and it was squandered.
I’m Catholic, although admittedly not always a very good one. My wife needs to remind me of Holy Days of Obligation so I can hastily seek out a lunchtime mass. Every Lent I still need to be reminded not to eat meat on Fridays. I’m the guy who wipes the black smudge off my forehead in the car on Ash Wednesday because I don’t want to answer questions about it all day long.
My faith is something I traditionally guard. Not out of shame, but personal conviction. I strongly believe I won’t convince anyone to share my faith, and proselytism made perfect sense before the printing press or the internet, but at this point I don’t need to ask anyone “have you heard of Jesus Christ?” If a friend asks me for moral advice I am unwavering and will share what I believe, but I’ll also freely admit how often I’ve struggled in my own faith. By my count I’ve sat down with priests on four different occasions to try and reconcile my personal beliefs on bodily autonomy for women, the treatment of the LGBTQIA+ community, sexual abuse inside the Catholic church, and my dismay at hearing the words of Pope Francis on income inequality be de-emphasized at mass because it doesn’t jive in a capitalistic society.
I think every Christian should ask these questions. Be curious. Find their own path to Christ that isn’t a “pick and choose” proposition like a buffet that ignores the church’s teachings wholesale, but also doesn’t silence what’s in their hearts about right and wrong. On some level I understand why James Reimer decided not to wear a pride-themed warmup jersey for the San Jose Sharks over the weekend, but I also think it was woefully misguided.
Reimer invokes Christ, and this is important. The second paragraph of his statement is all absolutely correct, and in my belief, accurate. The most beautiful thing about Jesus was his unwavering love for everyone. He didn’t surround himself with the wealthy or influential, but the marginalized, the outcasts — he reserved his most helping hand for those who needed it the most. Christ spoke far more about his disdain for the uncharitable wealthy and the greedy than he did prostitutes and tax collectors.
He loved them all anyway.
When Jesus was on the cross, looking down on the very men who put him to death — he begged God to forgive them.
He loved them all anyway.
“A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another.” — John 13:34
He commanded us to love them all anyway.
Wearing a pride jersey as part of the “Hockey Is For Everyone” campaign is not tacit support of an LGBTQIA+ lifestyle, even if you choose to take the strictest stance of believing those in same-sex relationships or alternate sexualities are living in an occasion of sin. Very simply it’s a small token that says “you matter, and I love you too.” It doesn’t endorse or glorify the action, but rather reaches a hand out to individuals to say “those who hate you are wrong, and you are welcome here.”
Wearing a pride warmup is, in the very strictest sense, the most Christ-like action a player could take in this scenario. It even offers the opportunity for a dialogue if you’d like, to explain the complicated interplay of being Christian, who is ordered to love all, while also acknowledging that some live a lifestyle which we’re told requires repentance.
It reminds me of the first time I sat down to discuss a crisis of faith with a priest when I was 15-years-old.
“My uncle is the kindest, most charitable and giving person I know. He loves everyone around him. He sings in his church choir and helps feed the needy. He’s also gay. How can someone who is such a good person go to hell?”
My priest sat quietly for a moment, pressing his hands together as if in prayer, index fingers against his lips before replying “It doesn’t seem like it makes sense, does it?” I nodded in affirmation. “I’ll let you in on a secret,” he said softly, “It doesn’t always make sense to me either — but God knows what’s in our hearts and loves us all equally. I think that matters when our time of judgement comes.”
That time of judgement, if you’re Christian, comes at death. Not now. Whether intentional or not, refusing to put on that jersey was an act of judgement, not of sin, but people. This is not a both sides proposition where you can say “I love everyone,” but refuse to participate in one act which is profoundly meaningful to those who needed it — an opportunity to reach out a hand to the marginalized.
So too, in my belief, Reimer doesn’t deserve to be judged. He shouldn’t be released for anything beyond his performance on the ice. However, I hope this allows him to have a moment of clarity. To browse the Twitter threads, to see the stories written about him, to witness the people vocally supporting his choice not to wear the Pride jersey. It’s an opportunity to ask himself “who is living Jesus’ teachings more closely? Those who are asking to be loved, or those who relish pushing people away and marginalizing them more?”
We all squander opportunities to be Christ-like every day, which in my belief makes us all sinners. James Reimer squandered such a chance on a major stage. I hope it leads to him embodying Christ, softening his heart, and not wasting the next opportunity to love.
