The Hockey Analogy

It’s that time of year once again. The NHL playoffs. And this year the Habs (what we locals affectionately call the Montreal Canadiens) made it into the playoffs even before the last week of the season. 

That used to be a given back when I was a teenager in the 70s. But it hasn’t been the case for decades.

I’m not saying the Habs are a contender for the cup. They’re a young exciting team. Still rebuilding. But they have grit and seem to be on the right track. They might win a round or two. 

Hockey was on my mind when the crew of bar-mitzvah bochers sporting their miniature 1940s-style fedoras showed up at my office for their weekly attempt to get me to wrap tefillin (phylacteries).

I usually oblige because I love to see the smiles on their smooth, pre-adolescent faces. Then they give me their religious shpiel, memorized from the weekly Torah portion. Some pearl of wisdom from the sages that their teacher taught them to recite. As if these barely pubescent kids could teach me something I didn't already know. It's cute as hell, and I give them plenty of attention.

Every once in a while I'll slip in a code they'll understand. A Yiddishism, or a reference to a Talmudic sage, so they know who they're dealing with, and they don't completely embarrass themselves.

Fact is I love them for their optimism and enthusiasm. 

Today the crew comprised, Yisroel, Lavy and Menachem Mendel. 

Yisroel is the serious one. Clearly the most learned of the bunch. Hungry to both share his knowledge and learn something new. Lavy just wants to get on with the business at hand and earn his mitzvah points; wisdom shmisdom, time is money. Menachem Mendel is a combination of the other two. He’s got big glasses and looks like he hasn’t graduated from elementary school yet. He’s a lot smarter and more mature than he looks, and knows his Torah. 

On this particular Friday I was in rare form; jocular and avuncular. I decided early on that I was going to turn the tables on them in a lighthearted way. Knew also that I was going to wrap, say the Shema, and drop a few coins in their pushke to make them feel the visit was a win.

Lavy and Menachem Mendel took off shortly after I did the dirty deed and exacted my price, gave them a parting shot by telling them not to get overly excited by all this superstitious nonsense. Yisroel stayed behind to further nourish my soul with his learned words.

He furrowed his brow and looked up to the sky (the cheap suspended ceiling tile), searching for spiritual guidance and inspiration. 

Then he said: This week's Torah portion we read that when Aaron's two sons, Nadav and Avihu, died suddenly because they had committed an avera in the Temple, a transgression against Hashem, Moses consoled his brother in his time of grief. And from this we learn that in life there will be eventualities we cannot comprehend, and it is by comforting each other that we will find the strength to endure such difficulties. 

And that's when I talked hockey, being certain that like every Canadian kid with a pulse - even ones who wear wholesale, undersized, rabbit-fur fedoras - he's a Habs fan.

'Why would G-d want us to endure such grief as losing a child?' I asked him.

'Unfortunately it happens,' he answered. 'We have to learn to accept the incomprehensible sometimes. And the strength to do so comes from realizing we are not unique. All human beings suffer.'

'Fair enough. So why do we differentiate ourselves? Why do we think we have some 'chosen' status?' 

'Because we were given the responsibility of Torah.'

'Okay, but you say that we learn that Moses comforted his brother who suffered an incomprehensible tragedy. Isn’t grief and suffering universal?'

'Yes.'

'Look I get it. We have our traditions, others groups have theirs. There is comfort in that. But you agree that we all experience tragedies we can’t understand. And it's human connection that provides comfort.' 

Now he's listening.

'What I mean is this. You and I grew up in Montreal. We're Habs fans. G-d forbid if we cheer for the Bruins. We love our team. And there's nothing wrong with that. We want them to win. It makes us feel good. When they lose we get mad. I feel the same way about being Jewish.’

He smiles.

'But in the grand scheme of things, it's just hockey. A game. A bunch of made-up rules. The game favours some types of people who have the skills and character to play it well. The rest of us have to watch from the sidelines and enjoy. But it's all arbitrary and artificial. It has no meaning or real value. It’s just a game.

How is that any different than society as whole? A bunch of made-up rules we follow. A game we play. Some better at it than others. The better ones get rich. The ones who can’t play are poor. They suffer. Let’s face it. It's all a bunch of artificial bullshit.'

Now he's on the verge of laughter, because I cursed. 

'Sure, cheer for your team if it makes you feel good. But don’t overdo it. There is something more important. Something the uniform can’t cover. Moses consoled Aaron. He didn't lecture him about G-d. Didn’t try to explain the unexplainable. He went to his brother because he was suffering.'

Then Yisroel said, 'And the Torah says Aaron responded to Moses with silence'.

And I said, ‘Sometimes there are no words. As it says in the Book of Ecclesiastes, there is a time to speak, and a time to keep silent.'

Yisroel just nodded. 

Like I said, he's the most learned of the bunch.