A Lenten Devotion by Willie Sordillo
Let my teaching fall like rain and my words descend like dew, like showers on new grass, like abundant rain on tender plants.
Deuteronomy 32:2
Sometimes, particularly when we’re young, a few years difference in age can seem like generations. On one of my first days in my new junior high school, I recall a ninth grader saying, “I don’t talk to seventh graders.” I had a friendlier experience when, as a sophomore in high school in New Jersey, a gym coach arranged for me to work out on a regular basis with the varsity gymnastics team at a college in my town. Though there can be a world of difference between a high school sophomore and a junior or senior in college, the coach, team, and several in particular went out of their way to help me, taking me under their wing, and in time, treating me as a member of the team. Though I couldn’t compete with them, I attended as many of their home meets as possible to cheer them on, and I remember being surprised and honored when they invited me to come to their team picnic at a state park a couple of hours drive from campus. I continued to work out daily with the Montclair State College Gymnastics Team until I graduated and went on to my own college career at a school in Virginia, a decision made in part because a former member of the Montclair team had served for a time as assistant coach at William & Mary.
Early on in my time as a college gymnast, I found myself competing against the very team that had taken me in as a high school student, and some of the people I’d worked out with in those days were still on the team. My coach knew of this relationship and arranged with the Montclair coach for our teams to go out to dinner together after the meet so we could catch up, and I was also able to greet my mentors during the warm-up session which preceded the meet. This was all quite lovely. But the thing which affected me most profoundly was something I never would have anticipated.
The Montclair team had a tradition during their meets. When a member of the team landed their dismount, the entire team would shout in unison, “Score!” It was a way of showing support and pumping each other up, and helped build the team spirit which undergirded a sport which is essentially individual. As I completed my first routine, my landing coincided with a resounding “Score!” I was competing against these athletes, but I was still part of their team.
I learned a lot from these young men, people only a few years older than I, but far wiser. They taught me how to do double leg circles on the side horse and a thousand other things which aided me enormously in gaining physical skill as a gymnast. More significantly, they taught me how to treat other people, regardless of age or status, with respect, kindness, and an open-ness to sharing knowledge and providing support. They taught me that friendship is more important than team affiliation. They taught me that human beings can be good. They taught me how I should treat the ones who were right behind me.
Wise God, thank you for mentors who, no matter what the age difference, understand what we need to learn and share their knowledge and wisdom graciously. Thank you for friendships which are not limited by team, or town, or country, or race, religion, gender-identity, expression or anything else. May I learn from these friends and mentors and be like them. Amen