Simone Biles, arguably the best gymnast ever, won a bronze metal for balance beam at the Tokyo 2020 Olympics (taking place in 2021). The major topic of conversation about Biles at these Olympics, however, has been around mental health.
Biles withdrew from the team competition and from almost all individual elements and openly talked about the reason being her mental health struggles. Many people called her heroic and courageous. Some people attacked her. Her example, as well as that of Naomi Osaka (tennis, Japan), has brought the issue of mental health and elite athletics into the spotlight. What strikes me is that mental health is one of those areas in which we are largely ignorant.
You may have formed an opinion of certainty around the story of Simone Biles, yet if you are like most people, you are relatively uncertain about your own mental health. How could you know just what someone else needs or should do or about their decisions or judgment when you are not even expert enough for your own well-being?
In Christian scripture, the Psalms contain much language that is contemporary in its expression of the human psyche. In Psalm 42 (and 43) there is a line repeated, a question. The Psalmist is praying, most of the words of the prayer are directed to God as prayer is often assumed to be. The question, though is directed not to God, but to the soul of the person doing the praying,
“Why are you downcast, O my soul? Why so disturbed within me?”
That is a mental health question as much as it is a spiritual question. All of us have asked the question of the psalmist. Perhaps that is one of the gifts the Psalm has to offer, the sense of not being alone with questions like that. We should be brought together around questions of mental health, not torn apart.
As I watch the Olympics I consider how archaic language about mental health from 20 years ago sounds now. Remember terms like “nervous breakdown” and the connotations that such terms carried?
We think that we are so advanced, but people thought the same thing in the decades before our own. Ten years from now, if we play back how we are talking today, will it sound ignorant and even embarrassing? Simone Biles admitted to struggling with mental health. Another Olympic athlete, Novak Djokovic, used different terms to describe his behaviour and decisions at the Olympics. As Biles is the best female gymnast in the world, Djokovic is the best male tennis player in the world. He is potentially en route to winning all 4 major tennis tournaments this year (he has already won 3). His hope at the Olympics was to make the grand slam golden. He was doing well until the semi-finals when he was beaten. His tantrums in and after those matches included the smashing of multiple rackets, the hurling of a racket into the stands, yelling and screaming, and then withdrawing from a mixed doubles match that he was scheduled to play. This withdrawal cost his playing partner a chance at a bronze medal. Is what Djokovic did not a sign of being mentally unwell? (Of course it is also fair game to ask how a woman who acted as Djokovic did would be characterized.)
How do mental health and maturity interact. Perhaps accepting and admitting that we all wrestle with mental health concerns is mature and strong, not weak. Perhaps Simone Biles showed that she is at least a little further down the road on this than Novak Djokovic.
Is there any way to be the “best in the world” at something as competitive as athletics without mental illness being part of the picture? Is it emotionally healthy to spend such time and effort and focus on one particular thing?
It would be great if someone who was labelled at a young age as potentially becoming the best ever at a particular sport won a single major tournament or gold medal and then said, “That’s it for me. I am going to focus on other things now.”
I have been reading a really good book about mental health and spirituality and theology called “Bipolar Faith”. Author Monica Coleman, who attended Harvard and Vanderbilt and now teaches theology, tells her own personal story of faith and struggle with mental health. She speaks about the history of mental illness in her family and uses the words, “the sadness of what lay ahead” in describing that which drove a relative to suicide.
Coleman speaks a good deal about fear and, in most cases, the fear is about the future. Even the best athletes in the world can be overcome with such fear. At the top, the pressure to keep going, to repeat, to become even better must be debilitating.
Karl Barth spoke quite extensively about the future. Barth lived in a time that was historically terrible. He taught in Germany as the Nazis came to power and he became a leading voice of dissent against the Nazis. What is striking is that even during such darkness he became known as the “cheerful theologian”. Barth’s reason for hope was the same reason for so much of our mental health struggles. That is, the reason for hope, is the future. Barth presented that that the future that matters most is that of Jesus Christ and that future is secure. In Jesus all things are renewed. Or, as the words accompanying Barth’s image on the Time Magazine cover for April 20, 1962 said, “The goal of human life is not death, but resurrection.”
This does not mean that we should be uninterested in our own future in the day to day. This does not mean that we won’t suffer, or that everything that happens to us makes us stronger. It is, however, the heart of what makes Christian faith, hopeful faith. Maybe you will achieve some great height, maybe not. Seeing a future bigger than your own, a positive future in light of a loving God does grant some perspective.
It might be possible to allow stories such as those of Simone Biles and Novak Djokovic to lead us to pray as much as they lead us to offer opinion. How are each of us wrestling with mental health? How can we consider, even in prayer, what other people are going through?
The question is for all of us: How are each of us wrestling with mental health?
In truth each of us is wrestling with mental health. The Apostle Paul speaks openly about his own struggles. James, of the Bible, says Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds. The Bible also contains 365 Fear nots. Why then, do we see continuous struggle?
It seems to be the human condition that we need to be the best: some of us want to be the tallest, the most beautiful, the best singer, the most popular….some of us want to drive the best car, travel to the most exotic country, have the smartest children, build the biggest house…
Maybe if we are “the best” we will be loved more, acknowledged more, respected more….
If being “the best” is our goal we are destined to fail. There will always be someone “better”.
Achievement is a worthy goal. Evolving as a human being is a worthy goal.
The question is, what is the price to pay. Does the road to achievement cost us our health?
How can the road to victory be satisfying if the road is paved with broken rackets and tantrums.
How can holding a trophy be celebrated when the victor is just too tired and dissolves in tears because of exhaustion.
There will always be those who seek to be “the best”. Their names will be engraved on plaques and statues will be built in their name. The engravings will not speak of the cost that got them there. The “best car” will lose its stature the first time a grocery cart crashes in to it.
Novak and Simone and Naomi are much more than their trophies.
Their trophies will sit on shelves and their statues will crumble.
Our life on earth is temporary. What is our goal? Where is our identity? To whom do we matter?
Whom do we love?
Perhaps these are the questions we need to answer. Maybe the answers will give us a clue into how we address our mental health.