Loving the Game

Transcribed Talk by J. Jaye Gold

The other day someone asked why these Sunday meetings are at different times lately. I said, “Well, the main variable right now is football.” On Saturdays I look at the playoff schedule, and then I fit the meetings in accordingly. Since I do so much for you, this is something you can do for me—have a little flexibility.

            I’ve never played football in an organized way. I played on the street when I was a kid, you know—go out to the Chevy. But I like watching the games and I’ve learned a lot over the years from watching. Football is such an undeniably team sport. One mistake on one person’s part—the hike for the punt goes over the guy’s head, or somebody forgets their assignment on a block, or somebody fumbles the ball—and it’s trouble for the whole team.

            Even a star runner knows he can’t do anything if that guy inside doesn’t block, otherwise he’ll get knocked down before he gets anywhere. That’s what the offensive linemen do—block. That’s it. They stand there and go, “HUHHH!” You wonder what they love about it? They’re part of the plan.

            We don’t always make the plan. In fact, we definitely didn’t make this plan, but we’re part of it, and there’s something to love about that. A person could learn so much from watching this game and recognizing how dependent everything is on everything else—and seeing the beauty in that.

            Anyone remember the TV show, The A-Team with Mr. T? The A-team boss, Hannibal, would say, “I love it when a plan comes together.” How many plans do we have that are complex, and how often do we see that they’ve actually come together? I understand what that means because I’ve come to love it when a plan comes together, in addition to loving playing my part in a plan that’s coming together.

            This is an important perspective because here we are marching toward our eventual merging with the ultimate Reality, but there’s going to be some life in between now and then, between here and there. What’s it supposed to be? There must be something for our here and now, something equally beautiful that’s on the way to Beautiful. The perspective I’m presenting is that there’s a part we can play in this team sport of marching toward the Light, following the directions of a plan; every morning and every afternoon and every evening between now and your merging, you have the opportunity to feel that you’re playing your part.

            Sometimes it’s saying something to somebody that’s not so easy to say. Sometimes it’s being honest and direct when that feels dangerous. Sometimes it’s sitting still when you feel like your body has already moved to the next place, or being helpful when you’d prefer to do your own thing, or looking at yourself in a new way. Not always pleasant, not always smooth, but part of the plan.

            Say you’re flying to Asia from the U.S. While you’re on the plane, you get decent food, a comfortable seat, a blanket, movies right in front of your chair, right? While you’re getting from here to there, you’re in the arms of the airline. They try to make an otherwise arduous trip pleasant for you. In a similar way, I support you. Who among us could make this trip if we didn’t have something to be in the arms of, something that’s constant, someone who understands, someone who’s made the trip before? If I didn’t play that part, you couldn’t do what you do. If the big guy didn’t block, the runner couldn’t run through.

            The important thing for you is that you have a part to play as well, and you can come to experience how great it feels when a plan comes together. When you don’t have that feeling, it doesn’t mean that God’s not in his heaven and all’s not right with the world; it means that you are not doing your part. If you would play your part, you would love this game. If in football it feels so good to be part of that team, imagine what it feels like to be part of this team. There is no sport, no career, no relationship that a person can have where they can partake in so much love as one can in the love of this game of walking toward the Light. It’s the reason we’ve been placed on earth.

            You can’t feel part of the game plan just because you consider yourself part of a spiritual group or school. In most of your moments, you’re absorbed by your problems, plans, and relationships. You have to move beyond that in order to feel the beauty of this team sport. There are so many moments when you could be a participant, when you could say, “What’s my assignment?” That’s what the players do when they huddle up. We’re constantly getting assignments if we can listen to the orders, as the line from that song goes, “in the very midst of the fight.” If our eyes are open, we can see those assignments.

            Often enough, we find ourselves with someone who clearly needs our support, who needs encouraging words, who needs a confrontation, who needs a reminder to use one of the methods. Each crossing we have with each other is an assignment—or an assignment missed. That’s the expression they use in football—he missed his assignment. If you miss your assignment, you’re not playing, and you don’t discover the love of the game.

            Not only do we have to be willing to play ourselves, but also be willing to be enthusiastic about other people’s playing. Home team advantage is a big factor in sports because of the important role the fans play. Your support of the team is awesomely important because of how few supporters there are of this game. Think of it—over 7½ billion people on the planet, and how many take time to participate in something like this? Very few people on earth have that priority. That makes us very important fans in a world with so little enthusiasm for discovering the inner world. You can even learn how to make that fan position—which in our culture is considered passive observing—into a living place, a learning place, an expanding place. If you are in the game—steering the ship, making the plays, being a participating supporter—you may feel challenged, delighted, confronted, confused, blown away—but not bored, not numb.

            People often ask me, “How do I know what my part is?” We have a school here that is organized for you to find out several things. One is how to march toward that Light that you’re pulled to merge with, and another is how to discover what your part is on the way. If you’re asking that question, then you have to pay attention to the dynamic of the study groups you’re in, to the methods you’re using, and to your priorities. You have to pay attention to life. You have to open your senses and absorb more of what’s going on around you. You have to take up the fight against the numbness that’s accumulated over all these years from your motion and your activity, from your goal-orientation, from your need to impress and accomplish and feel safe. Learn to open your senses to see what’s around you so that if a person walks in the door, you’ll be capable not only of seeing their face, but of feeling their life in that moment. You might be thinking, “Did you get that thing I asked you for?” but you also see their face and their walk, and you’ve heard the way they opened the door. So, you might instead say, “Hey, how are you doing?” or “Why don’t you sit quietly for a minute before you start the next thing.” You’ll do it as a result of your senses being open and recognizing that you’re in the presence of another life form. If that becomes the fabric of your life, you won’t have to ask me so often how I know what I know.

            Whenever you want to look for your assignment, it’ll be there. Maybe your assignment will be to go to a quiet spot and meditate, or to go to your room and read something. Maybe your participation isn’t needed in the philosophic discussion in the living room. You’ll always feel good about your assignment because this plan was made by a power much greater than us. If you’re playing your part, you’ll feel what Hannibal felt: “I love it when a plan comes together.” You’ll feel your love for the game.

            I, myself, have a ludicrous part, an absurd part, but it is the one that I get to play. I get to play the angel—the angel that you’re in the arms of. Actually, we all get to play that part; I just get to play it more often because I’m willing. But anytime you want to stand for something, anytime you want to be the reflector, the encourager, the reminder, the cheerleader… anytime you want to have the arms of the angel, you can play.