We watch blades carve the ice, skis cut through snow, sleds race along frozen tracks at breathtaking speed.
We see beauty, risk, discipline, and daring - and then we see the waiting.
The skater stands motionless after the final spin, breath visible in the cold air, eyes fixed on a scoreboard.
The skier glances upward after crossing the finish line.
The snowboarder removes a helmet and waits.
All of them have trained for years for this moment.
All of them must await judgement, and as we watch, we cannot help but recognise something of our own lives in theirs.
The Winter Olympics draws us into a drama that is both athletic and deeply human. We see striving, sacrifice, falls, recoveries, tears, triumph, and - perhaps most poignantly - the waiting for the judges' final scores.
In events such as figure skating, athletes pour heart and soul
into four minutes of performance. They leap, spin, balance on a blade no
wider than a finger. Then they stand, often trembling, while judges
deliberate.
That waiting feels almost sacramental. It resembles the moment when we finish a great effort in life and must stand before God's gaze.
The Letter to the Hebrews reminds us, "It is appointed for men to die once, and after that comes judgment" (Hebrews 9:27, RSV - CE). We do not dwell on that verse to provoke fear, but to awaken awareness. Our lives, like those routines on ice, are not random. They are lived before a Judge who sees not only the external performance, but the hidden intention of the heart.
In figure skating, the judges examine technique and artistry. Did the skater land the jump cleanly? Was the rotation complete? Did the program express beauty and grace?
In figure skating, the judges examine technique and artistry. Did the skater land the jump cleanly? Was the rotation complete? Did the program express beauty and grace?
There is something profoundly moving about that blend of discipline and creativity. It echoes the call of Christ: "You, therefore, must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect" (Matthew 5:48, RSV - CE). That word perfect can unsettle us. Yet it speaks less of flawlessness and more of fullness - of maturity in love.
We are called to strive - not in anxious comparison, but in wholehearted devotion. Like the skater who practices the same triple jump thousands of times, we repeat acts of patience, forgiveness, kindness, and prayer. We fall. We rise. We practice again.
The saints understood this holy striving. St Paul writes, "Do you not know that in a race all the runners compete, but only one receives the prize? So run that you may obtain it" (1 Corinthians 9:24, RSV - CE). Though he likely had summer games in mind, the image fits the Winter Olympics beautifully. The skiers in cross-country events push themselves over long distances through snow and wind. Their lungs burn. Their legs ache. Yet they press on toward the finish.
St John Paul II, who loved sport, once said that athletics can become "a training ground of virtue." He understood that discipline, perseverance, and teamwork shape the soul. We too are in training - not merely for medals, but for eternity.
Consider alpine skiing. The athlete hurtles downhill at tremendous speed, navigating gates placed with precision. One misjudged turn can cost everything. The slope demands focus and trust. Our lives often resemble that descent. Decisions come quickly. Temptations appear suddenly. We pray for the grace to respond wisely. The Psalmist assures us, "Thy word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path" (Psalm 119:105, RSV - CE). Even on steep terrain, we are not without guidance.
Then there is ice hockey - perhaps the most visibly communal of Winter Olympic sports. No one skates alone for long. There are passes, assists, defensive lines, coaches shouting encouragement from the bench. Victory is shared. Defeat is shared. The image reminds us that faith is never solitary. We are part of a team - the Church. We rely on one another's strength. St Paul writes, "If one member suffers, all suffer together; if one member is honored, all rejoice together" (1 Corinthians 12:26, RSV - CE).
Behind every athlete stands a network of trainers, physiotherapists, nutritionists, family, friends, and entire federations. There are people who wake before dawn to prepare training sessions. There are parents who drive long distances to icy rinks. There are unseen supporters who never stand on the podium, yet without whom the medal would not exist.
Our spiritual life is similar. We do not reach holiness alone. We are supported by priests who guide us, friends who pray with us, saints who intercede for us, and Our Lady who walks beside us. St Thérèse of Lisieux, who never travelled beyond her convent, understood that even hidden sacrifices sustain the Body of Christ. She wrote, "I will spend my heaven doing good upon earth." Even now, the saints form a great cloud of witnesses cheering us on.
We might also reflect on biathlon - the unusual pairing of cross-country skiing and rifle shooting. Athletes must race vigorously and then suddenly become still to aim precisely. Their heart rate is elevated, their breath unsteady. Yet accuracy is essential. How like our spiritual life this is. We rush through responsibilities, conversations, and tasks. Then we are invited into stillness - into prayer - where we must steady our hearts before God.
"Be still, and know that I am God" (Psalm 46:10, RSV - CE). The biathlete's pause becomes our meditation. Can we transition from activity to contemplation? Can we quiet the noise enough to aim our hearts toward heaven?
Snowboarding and freestyle skiing display creativity and daring. Athletes launch themselves into the air, performing twists and flips that defy gravity. There is risk involved - real risk. Falls can be painful. Yet without risk, there is no glory. Christ says, "Whoever would save his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it" (Matthew 16:25, RSV - CE). The Gospel calls us beyond safety into surrender.
St Maximilian Kolbe risked everything in Auschwitz. St Gianna Molla accepted grave danger to preserve the life of her child. Their courage was not reckless; it was rooted in love. The snowboarder's leap is only a faint echo of that greater leap of trust.
Curling, quieter and less dramatic to some, offers another lesson. Teammates sweep furiously in front of the stone, guiding its path across the ice. Small adjustments determine the final resting place. The sport teaches patience and cooperation. It reminds us that gentle, persistent effort can redirect the course of events. A kind word, a whispered prayer, a small sacrifice - these may alter more than we realise.
The waiting for scores in figure skating mirrors the anticipation of judgement. Yet there is a crucial difference. Olympic judges evaluate visible execution. God judges the heart. "Man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart" (1 Samuel 16:7, RSV - CE). A routine that appears flawless may hide anxiety or pride. A routine with minor stumbles may reflect heroic perseverance.
St Faustina Kowalska wrote in her Diary that Jesus told her, "I do not reward for good results but for the patience and hardship undergone for My sake." That changes everything. Our lives are not scored according to worldly applause. They are measured by love.
We also notice that even champions fall. In short track speed skating, collisions are common. In figure skating, even seasoned athletes sometimes slip. Yet they rise, continue, and complete the program. The crowd often applauds the courage to finish more than the technical perfection.
"Though he fall, he shall not be cast headlong, for the Lord upholds his hand" (Psalm 37:24, RSV - CE). Our failures do not define us. What defines us is whether we rise again with humility and hope.
St Peter fell grievously when he denied Christ. Yet he became the rock upon which the Church was built. St Mary of Egypt, once far from holiness, became a radiant saint through repentance. Our stumbles, too, can become stepping stones.
There is also the theme of preparation. Olympic athletes train for years for a moment that lasts minutes. Their lives revolve around disciplined routines - early mornings, strict diets, repetitive drills. It can appear excessive. Yet we admire their commitment.
Do we train our souls with similar seriousness? Prayer, fasting, almsgiving, confession - these are our spiritual drills. They prepare us for the decisive moments when love must be chosen under pressure. St Ignatius of Loyola spoke of the "daily examen," a practice of reviewing our day before God. Like watching replay footage, we examine our movements of heart and intention.
The scoreboard at the Olympics is public. Scores flash before millions. Our final judgement, however, will be deeply personal. It will be an encounter with Christ. We remember His words: "Well done, good and faithful servant" (Matthew 25:23, RSV - CE). That is the praise we long to hear.
Yet we do not await judgement alone or in terror. We await it with hope. Christ is not merely Judge; He is Saviour. He is the One who trained us, strengthened us, forgave our falls, and ran beside us.
Weekly Challenge / Takeaway
This week, we might choose one "spiritual discipline" and treat it as an athlete treats training. Perhaps we commit to ten minutes of daily silent prayer - no excuses. Perhaps we examine our conscience each evening. Perhaps we intentionally encourage someone who is striving quietly.
We might also reflect: if today were our final performance, what would we want to adjust? Where are we holding back love? Where do we need courage? Let us make one concrete change before the week ends.
Prayer to Our Lady of Lourdes
Our Lady of Lourdes, gentle Mother who appeared in humility and light, we turn to you in our striving. You who stood faithfully at the foot of the Cross, teach us perseverance. Intercede for us in our daily efforts - in our work, our family life, our hidden sacrifices. Help us to train our hearts in love and purity. When we fall, obtain for us the grace to rise. When we await judgement, remind us that your Son is rich in mercy. Guide us always toward Him, and walk with us on the path to holiness. Amen.
A Prayer for all who read this blog post and all who never will
Merciful Lord, we lift before You all who pause to reflect on these words, and all who will never see them. We pray for the athletes striving on ice and snow, for their trainers and families, and for all who labour unseen in the background of great efforts. We pray for those awaiting results in hospitals, courtrooms, classrooms, and quiet corners of life. Strengthen us in perseverance. Purify our intentions. Teach us to strive for love rather than applause. When our moment of judgement comes, may we stand in hope, trusting in Your mercy. Through Christ our Lord. Amen.
Final Prayer - Poem
On frozen fields and shining ice,
We glimpse the cost of sacrifice.
In leaps and falls, in breath held tight,
We see our own long, hidden fight.
O Christ our Judge, our Strength, our Guide,
Stay ever near us at our side.
When scores are shown and days are done,
May we be welcomed home as one.
Parish Invitation
If these reflections stir something within us, let us not journey alone. We are warmly invited to join our parish community - to come to Mass, to receive the grace of regular confession, to participate in our parish activities, and to become part of our Living Rosary Group. We are also encouraged to read our latest newsletter and stay connected with the life of our parish family.
For as the Lord promises, "For where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I in the midst of them" (Matthew 18:20, RSV - CE).
Let us train together, pray together, and strive together - until the day we stand before Him and hear the only score that truly matters.
We are called to strive - not in anxious comparison, but in wholehearted devotion. Like the skater who practices the same triple jump thousands of times, we repeat acts of patience, forgiveness, kindness, and prayer. We fall. We rise. We practice again.
The saints understood this holy striving. St Paul writes, "Do you not know that in a race all the runners compete, but only one receives the prize? So run that you may obtain it" (1 Corinthians 9:24, RSV - CE). Though he likely had summer games in mind, the image fits the Winter Olympics beautifully. The skiers in cross-country events push themselves over long distances through snow and wind. Their lungs burn. Their legs ache. Yet they press on toward the finish.
St John Paul II, who loved sport, once said that athletics can become "a training ground of virtue." He understood that discipline, perseverance, and teamwork shape the soul. We too are in training - not merely for medals, but for eternity.
Consider alpine skiing. The athlete hurtles downhill at tremendous speed, navigating gates placed with precision. One misjudged turn can cost everything. The slope demands focus and trust. Our lives often resemble that descent. Decisions come quickly. Temptations appear suddenly. We pray for the grace to respond wisely. The Psalmist assures us, "Thy word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path" (Psalm 119:105, RSV - CE). Even on steep terrain, we are not without guidance.
Then there is ice hockey - perhaps the most visibly communal of Winter Olympic sports. No one skates alone for long. There are passes, assists, defensive lines, coaches shouting encouragement from the bench. Victory is shared. Defeat is shared. The image reminds us that faith is never solitary. We are part of a team - the Church. We rely on one another's strength. St Paul writes, "If one member suffers, all suffer together; if one member is honored, all rejoice together" (1 Corinthians 12:26, RSV - CE).
Behind every athlete stands a network of trainers, physiotherapists, nutritionists, family, friends, and entire federations. There are people who wake before dawn to prepare training sessions. There are parents who drive long distances to icy rinks. There are unseen supporters who never stand on the podium, yet without whom the medal would not exist.
Our spiritual life is similar. We do not reach holiness alone. We are supported by priests who guide us, friends who pray with us, saints who intercede for us, and Our Lady who walks beside us. St Thérèse of Lisieux, who never travelled beyond her convent, understood that even hidden sacrifices sustain the Body of Christ. She wrote, "I will spend my heaven doing good upon earth." Even now, the saints form a great cloud of witnesses cheering us on.
We might also reflect on biathlon - the unusual pairing of cross-country skiing and rifle shooting. Athletes must race vigorously and then suddenly become still to aim precisely. Their heart rate is elevated, their breath unsteady. Yet accuracy is essential. How like our spiritual life this is. We rush through responsibilities, conversations, and tasks. Then we are invited into stillness - into prayer - where we must steady our hearts before God.
"Be still, and know that I am God" (Psalm 46:10, RSV - CE). The biathlete's pause becomes our meditation. Can we transition from activity to contemplation? Can we quiet the noise enough to aim our hearts toward heaven?
Snowboarding and freestyle skiing display creativity and daring. Athletes launch themselves into the air, performing twists and flips that defy gravity. There is risk involved - real risk. Falls can be painful. Yet without risk, there is no glory. Christ says, "Whoever would save his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it" (Matthew 16:25, RSV - CE). The Gospel calls us beyond safety into surrender.
St Maximilian Kolbe risked everything in Auschwitz. St Gianna Molla accepted grave danger to preserve the life of her child. Their courage was not reckless; it was rooted in love. The snowboarder's leap is only a faint echo of that greater leap of trust.
Curling, quieter and less dramatic to some, offers another lesson. Teammates sweep furiously in front of the stone, guiding its path across the ice. Small adjustments determine the final resting place. The sport teaches patience and cooperation. It reminds us that gentle, persistent effort can redirect the course of events. A kind word, a whispered prayer, a small sacrifice - these may alter more than we realise.
The waiting for scores in figure skating mirrors the anticipation of judgement. Yet there is a crucial difference. Olympic judges evaluate visible execution. God judges the heart. "Man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart" (1 Samuel 16:7, RSV - CE). A routine that appears flawless may hide anxiety or pride. A routine with minor stumbles may reflect heroic perseverance.
St Faustina Kowalska wrote in her Diary that Jesus told her, "I do not reward for good results but for the patience and hardship undergone for My sake." That changes everything. Our lives are not scored according to worldly applause. They are measured by love.
We also notice that even champions fall. In short track speed skating, collisions are common. In figure skating, even seasoned athletes sometimes slip. Yet they rise, continue, and complete the program. The crowd often applauds the courage to finish more than the technical perfection.
"Though he fall, he shall not be cast headlong, for the Lord upholds his hand" (Psalm 37:24, RSV - CE). Our failures do not define us. What defines us is whether we rise again with humility and hope.
St Peter fell grievously when he denied Christ. Yet he became the rock upon which the Church was built. St Mary of Egypt, once far from holiness, became a radiant saint through repentance. Our stumbles, too, can become stepping stones.
There is also the theme of preparation. Olympic athletes train for years for a moment that lasts minutes. Their lives revolve around disciplined routines - early mornings, strict diets, repetitive drills. It can appear excessive. Yet we admire their commitment.
Do we train our souls with similar seriousness? Prayer, fasting, almsgiving, confession - these are our spiritual drills. They prepare us for the decisive moments when love must be chosen under pressure. St Ignatius of Loyola spoke of the "daily examen," a practice of reviewing our day before God. Like watching replay footage, we examine our movements of heart and intention.
The scoreboard at the Olympics is public. Scores flash before millions. Our final judgement, however, will be deeply personal. It will be an encounter with Christ. We remember His words: "Well done, good and faithful servant" (Matthew 25:23, RSV - CE). That is the praise we long to hear.
Yet we do not await judgement alone or in terror. We await it with hope. Christ is not merely Judge; He is Saviour. He is the One who trained us, strengthened us, forgave our falls, and ran beside us.
Weekly Challenge / Takeaway
This week, we might choose one "spiritual discipline" and treat it as an athlete treats training. Perhaps we commit to ten minutes of daily silent prayer - no excuses. Perhaps we examine our conscience each evening. Perhaps we intentionally encourage someone who is striving quietly.
We might also reflect: if today were our final performance, what would we want to adjust? Where are we holding back love? Where do we need courage? Let us make one concrete change before the week ends.
Prayer to Our Lady of Lourdes
Our Lady of Lourdes, gentle Mother who appeared in humility and light, we turn to you in our striving. You who stood faithfully at the foot of the Cross, teach us perseverance. Intercede for us in our daily efforts - in our work, our family life, our hidden sacrifices. Help us to train our hearts in love and purity. When we fall, obtain for us the grace to rise. When we await judgement, remind us that your Son is rich in mercy. Guide us always toward Him, and walk with us on the path to holiness. Amen.
A Prayer for all who read this blog post and all who never will
Merciful Lord, we lift before You all who pause to reflect on these words, and all who will never see them. We pray for the athletes striving on ice and snow, for their trainers and families, and for all who labour unseen in the background of great efforts. We pray for those awaiting results in hospitals, courtrooms, classrooms, and quiet corners of life. Strengthen us in perseverance. Purify our intentions. Teach us to strive for love rather than applause. When our moment of judgement comes, may we stand in hope, trusting in Your mercy. Through Christ our Lord. Amen.
Final Prayer - Poem
On frozen fields and shining ice,
We glimpse the cost of sacrifice.
In leaps and falls, in breath held tight,
We see our own long, hidden fight.
O Christ our Judge, our Strength, our Guide,
Stay ever near us at our side.
When scores are shown and days are done,
May we be welcomed home as one.
Parish Invitation
If these reflections stir something within us, let us not journey alone. We are warmly invited to join our parish community - to come to Mass, to receive the grace of regular confession, to participate in our parish activities, and to become part of our Living Rosary Group. We are also encouraged to read our latest newsletter and stay connected with the life of our parish family.
For as the Lord promises, "For where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I in the midst of them" (Matthew 18:20, RSV - CE).
Let us train together, pray together, and strive together - until the day we stand before Him and hear the only score that truly matters.
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