The Catechism of Hockey

The Catechism of Hockey.  By Alyssa Bormes, ACS Books, 2013.

 

Metaphors are often a highly effective way of explaining complicated concepts.  Alyssa Bormes has hit upon a surprising but remarkable effective means of teaching Catholic doctrine: comparing the Catholic Church’s beliefs and culture to the game of hockey.  One might think that this could be a tongue-in-cheek, irreverent book.  It is not.  It is an entertaining book, and a delightfully readable book, and it is also one of the wisest and freshest religious teaching tools in years.

 

In his introduction to The Catechism of Hockey, Dale Ahlquist, the President of the American Chesterton Society, [NOTE: Since this review was first published, the ACS has changed its name to The Society of G.K. Chesterton] writes that:

 

“This is a right wing book.  Of course, it’s also a left wing book.  And a center book.  And don’t forget the two defensemen and the goalie.  The whole team is represented in these pages.  Even the referee.  And the commissioner.  You will think about them all in a new way, even while you think about them in the same way.

 

What you are holding in your hand is an amazing teaching tool, even though it probably will not help you become a better hockey player.  (If that is what you thought you were going to get from this book, well, someone just skated around you.  But read it anyway.  The game is not over.)”

 

Alyssa Bormes is an writer and teacher of Catholic issues.  She lives in the Twin Cities area, where hockey is a way of life.  She also works as Dale Ahlquist’s assistant.  According to an anecdote recounted in his introduction, Ahlquist was stunned by Bormes’s original idea, and encouraged her to turn her own personal take on sports and theology into a book.  It took several years for the project to come to fruition, but the results are magnificent.

 

The central conceit of The Catechism of Hockey is that all aspects of the game of hockey can be used to emphasize why Catholic beliefs, traditions, and practices make perfect sense.  Subjects such as the clergy, Catholic attitudes towards marriage and the family, sin, confession, and much, much more are compared to various aspects of the hockey-playing experience.  One might come to this book with the preconceived notion that it will stretch an already shaky metaphor far too thin, eventually belaboring a point or descending into ludicrousness.  Instead, every comparison is logical, reasonable, and sensible.  Chapters such as “The Team,” “The Rules,” “The Box,” “High Sticking and Slashing,” “The Uniform,” “The Stanley Cup,” and “The Great One” all work as perfect means of explaining while Catholic teachings and practices are necessary and sensible.

 

Bormes writes with an obvious love of both her faith and hockey as she explains the basics of her central metaphor and its relevance:

 

“The boy on the frozen pond with a stick, a puck, and a pair of skates is playing hockey.  Even when he has only twigs for a goal and a crushed soda can for a puck, he is still playing hockey.  This is hockey in its rawest form.  He embodies the very thing that is hockey– all of the history of hockey, all of its rules, its traditions, everything that hockey ever has been, is, and ever will be.  In essence, he symbolizes the whole faith of hockey.  This all-encompassing hockey-nesscould be called the deposit of faith of hockey.

 

Perhaps the best thing about hockey is that it is fun, and the sight of one skater on the ice is an invitation for another to join.  When the second skater joins the first on the ice, however, rules are needed.  Give any two children a puck, a ball, or a deck of cards– or a television remote control– and rules are needed.  With a ball, children will quickly make rules governing the number of bounces, the time allotted to hold the ball, boundaries, what constitutes the method of scoring, and a host of other rules.  It is the same with the deck of cards, the television remote, and with hockey.  Between two young skaters the deposit of faith of hockey remains the same: the rules protect the integrity of the game.  One may argue that rules are required even for one skater playing the game of hockey. The rules are implicit for hockey to be hockey, and not another sport.”

 

Though Bormes does not emphasize this point, much of today’s theology isn’t comparable to a sport with firm, sensible rules.  Instead, it’s Calvinball, the sport named after one of the titular characters in Bill Watterson’s magnificent comic strip Calvin and Hobbes, where the “rules” of the game are made up as the players go along, and the only permanent rule is that the game can never be played the same way twice.  Though “organized” religion gets a lot of bad press, Bormes argues that disorganized religion poses the real danger to the faithful.

 

“Just as it is logical to have the commissioner and governing body in hockey, and logical that they would protect and interpret the deposit of faith in hockey, so it is logical that the Magisterium of the Church would protect and interpret the Catholic Faith.  But the Church is not usually thought of in this way.  But what could be more important than protecting the Sacred Deposit?  Not only has this Sacred Deposit been protected, but also it is there waiting to be taught, learned studied, and practiced.  By protecting the Deposit, the Church rightly looks after the needs of Her members, providing for them not just in this life, but preparing them for eternal life as well.”

 

It is sad but true that many people take sports more seriously than they do religion.  The logic behind certain rules, practices, and sacrifices certain athletes make are largely unquestioned, whereas the demands and obligations Catholicism requires from believers are often dismissed as excessive, unnecessary, and ridiculous.  Bormes argues that the rules are for the good of each individual and the entire church as well.

 

“In hockey, just as in life, there is an analogous body; what is good is good for the body, and what is evil is bad for the body.  What is this body in hockey?  The team...

 

Because the team is the body, however, the skater’s “evil” actions affect them negatively.  A skater who neglects drills, incurs penalties, or who skates apathetically will negatively affect the team.  One might even argue that an apathetic or lukewarm skater is one of the worst things for the other skaters…

 

No matter the examples, they all lead to one truth: there is no private sin in hockey.  A skater’s individual good action is collectively good for the body, the team.  A skater’s individual evil action is collectively evil for the body, the team…

 

There is no private sin in hockey and there is no private sin in life.  The Mystical Body is bound spiritually.  It is more tightly bound than a hockey team and more tightly bound than the line to view the body of the Holy Father.  Individual good is good for the Church; as is evil, evil for the Church.  Every action affects the Church.  The members of the Church are to do good and avoid evil, not just for their own sakes, but also for that of the entire Mystical Body.”

 

The Catechism of Hockey is so clever and insightful that it seems possible that it could spawn a series of spin-off for individuals who are interested in other sports– football, baseball, basketball, soccer, and so forth.  This is in no way meant to deprecate the efficacy of the hockey metaphor, but only to explain that this religious education tool could conceivably spawn a franchise.

 

Even people who know next to nothing about hockey and even less about Catholicism will find much to enjoy in this short but surprisingly profound book.  

 

For more information on Alyssa Bormes, please see http://alyssabormes.com/.

 

For more information on the Society of G.K. Chesterton, please see http://www.chesterton.org/.

 

 

–Chris Chan