Cometh the Hour …

There’s a saying that is often used by commentators during a particularly tense moment in a sporting event. You may hear it just after a match-winning goal or run; occasionally, when a particularly momentous instance has occurred where an athlete has overcome adversity.

It is the saying: “Cometh the hour, cometh the man”.

Devotees of cricket suggest it originated in 1948 when an English bowler won a Test match for his team against South Africa off the very last ball after five days of closely-fought cricket. Maybe yes, maybe no.

 Others suggest it’s a badly applied variation on these words of Jesus in John 4.23:

Yet a time is coming and has now come when the true worshippers will worship the Father in the Spirit and in truth, for they are the kind of worshippers the Father seeks.

Let’s explore this for a moment. Jesus is talking with a Samaritan woman. She is a life-long victim of exclusion - excluded because of her ethnic origins, the reality that (given the time and place of her life circumstances) she is a woman. She is drawing water from the well at noon, in the hottest hour of the day. She kindly and selflessly offers Jesus water. 

This is early in Jesus’ teaching ministry, but His words are a pointer to the emerging reality of His time on earth. God’s plan for the salvation of mankind - whilst it originates in the nation of Israel and is fully realised in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus - does not play out as the Israelites expected it would.

Now, in August 2024, as the world is distracted by a four-yearly sporting festival called the Olympics, it is easy for us to be distracted by the things we expect to see. We expect emotion-charged track and field evenings when the men’s and women’s sprint finals are on. Aussies expect heroics in the pool. And this Olympics has not disappointed us as we have seen these play out.

But the Olympics was not meant to focus just on these examples of physical superiority.  The founder of the modern Olympics, Pierre de Coubertain, had this to say:

The heart of our problem is the selfishness in our heart.

Consider, for example, the IOC Refugee Olympic Team (originally created in 2015) - it represents more than 100 million forcibly displaced people worldwide. It is made up of 37 athletes, hosted by 15 National Olympic Committees and competes across 12 sports. On the IOC’s website you will find these words:

The Refugee Olympic Team's participation in the Olympic Games is not only a testament to their resilience and excellence but also sends a powerful message of hope, belonging, and inclusion.

Skateboarding, usually a denizen of your local park, has arrived at the Olympics. I am amazed at the tricks that are performed by the athletes. But two further things fascinate me about this sport, that truly distinguishes it from others.

First, I cannot think of another sport where an 11-year-old and a 40-year-old compete as equals. And, when the 11-year-old does an extraordinarily skilled run, the 40-year-old goes over and congratulates them and gives them technical advice so they can improve further. Then to see a 14-year-old Aussie girl triumph and yet be so natural in her manner and generous to all her competitors in her post-competition interviews - wow - what a difference!

Second, the competitors hug each other and spur one another on by encouragement during the rounds of competition - this is a game changer for me, in terms of how sport can be conducted. I’m not sure, but I’m challenged to think it might just be a window into “how God intended it to be”.

I’m also so thrilled to see the Australian broadcaster placing such an emphasis on the Paralympics team during the advertising breaks in the Olympics coverage. The coverage, respect and honour shown for these often marginalised athletes encourages me that we (as a society) can be better than we’ve been in the past.

So, perhaps this particular four-yearly season of sporting fervour can cause us to think a little more deeply “what kind of man or woman will we be”? Will we see beyond the highest pinnacles, the purest of achievements, to the humanity that sits alongside these? Will we celebrate the thing, or the person? 

In our daily walk, what do we look for in the other? Is it what they do? Or is it acknowledging the fact that they carry the image of God, and as we respond to them, how are we responding to them in a way which shows our relationship with the God who created them?

Shalom.