Moral Hockey
Written November 9, 2002

Assume, for the sake of amusement, that we live in a world where the Christian concept of spirituality exists as a definitive reality and under our very noses, undetectable by human senses, angels and demons are struggling to save or corrupt our souls. A battle for ownership of the universe rages between God and Satan, and controlling human morality is at the very core of this ultimate power contention. Someone dies with a relatively unblemished soul and they go to heaven, scoring a point for God in the eternal conflict. Another guy thinks it’s a pretty neat idea to dedicate his life to necrophelia and most likely goes to hell, racking one up for Satan. This is a game of epic proportions where humanity is lined up like so many playing pieces, completely unaware of their role and subject to being tugged this way and that by unseen entities.

This said, imagine that every single moral decision that you make is determined by the results of a skirmish between the heavenly hordes and the foul legions of the underworld. Each time you consider cheating on that exam or eating all of your roommate’s cupcakes, angels and devils line up on opposing shoulders, ready to scrap it out for control of your actions and ownership of your soul. Do these creatures fight with spiritual swords of power, great explosions of energy around your head marking the spot of the invisible conflict? Hell no! This is Canada , they play hockey.

As twenty-four year old WLU student Mike helps an extremely intoxicated and barely walking first year girl back to his house after a night at the bar, he pauses. Sure, she seems willing enough to go despite her lack of ability to form coherent sentences, but he can’t even remember her name and she keeps falling into the gutter and laughing uncontrollably. One might say she’s not in control of her actions. Mike’s a nice guy, not the kind to deliberately take advantage of someone. Still, he’s smashed himself and schlocking is always fun.

Unknown to Mike, the forces of heaven and hell are assembling their first lines for the moral struggle just above his head. God’s team is looking strong for this particular match, with speed demon St. Peter at left wing. The imposing Archangel Gabriel is in net, making a surprise guest appearance and earning a collection of excited whispers from the scant crowd of spiritual beings in attendance. It is generally known that Gabriel plays the big games that prevent murder, genocide and the like but apparently every once in a while he likes to reacquaint himself with the minors. Random selections from the Holy Choir and a pair of cherubs on defence complete the virtuous battalion.

Skating up to the opposing side of the centre circle saunter the hordes of evil led by Azazremon, a gruesome spider-like creature of some renown who is quickly descending down the demonic career ladder after his string of victories resulting in some nasty violence in the Middle East . The rather large Azazremon is playing centre and is accompanied by several nondescript imps, a bored looking multi-headed hydra and a large blob of flesh-coloured goo playing goalie. Needless to say, this demonic squad is a one man show, a situation which the hulking spider is decidedly displeased with despite his advantage in personal appendages.

After a brief argument concerning Azazremon’s questionable use of six hockey sticks, the puck is mysteriously dropped from above and the game commences. The action is fast and furious, with the Archangel Gabriel easily turning aside all demonic shots with his blindingly bright goalie stick and Azazremon stickhandling brilliantly between his multiple legs as he weaves through the rather incompetent cherubic defence. Noting that choosing tiny, winged babies to play hockey might be a bad idea in the future, St. Paul manages to wrest the puck from the bellowing Azazremon and is down the ice in a flash, easily outmanoeuvring the snapping heads of the hydra. Dodging between two imps who immediately collide with a satisfying thud, Paul lets loose a supersonic slapshot that easily eludes the motionless blob in goal and tears a blazing hole in the back of the net, marking his fourth game-winner of the evening.

Just below the celebrating heavenly horde, Mike looks at his girl who has somehow passed out on the sidewalk. Sighing, he hefts her to her feet and starts dragging her towards a nearby phone booth, resolutely stating “C’mon, I’ll call you a cab home.”

Next time you are faced with a similar moral dilemma try to imagine the forces that may be at work above you, playing an unseen game of hockey in a frantic attempt to save or corrupt your soul. Cheated on your girlfriend and sent her into a spiral of depression? Azazremon may have outwitted some chump heavenly choirboy of a goalie with a multi-legged wraparound goal. Who knows, maybe Jesus even shows up for the biggest games that decide the fate of our society. I bet he’s got a kickass deke.

This was gonna be a column but it was too long to print. I like the idea of Jesus playing hockey but I don't know how appreciated this idea would be by the masses. Jesus boxing, on the other hand, would bring in millions of pay-per-view dollars.