Tolkkinen: Prayers at center ice actually run contrary to Christian teachings

Last week, exciting news spread among conservative Christian parents. Minnesota Hockey had overruled Minnesota District 10 Hockey. On-ice prayer, at least for now, will continue.

The Christians had won!

Well, when I say “Christians” won, I should clarify that I’m not talking about all Christians. There are Christians who do not see Minnesota Hockey’s decision as a victory, who see such prayer — as a public display — contrary to the teachings of Christ himself. They might, actually, see the decision as a loss for Christianity in general.

There are Christians (I am one) who wonder why anyone feels the necessity for formal, organized prayer during sporting events at all. Why not at the grocery store, given the high price of food? Why not at the local bank?

But after District 10 Hockey (which covers an area roughly from the northern Twin Cities suburbs to Sandstone) banned its young players from gathering on ice after games to save valuable ice time, essentially banning on-ice group prayer, another kind of Christian erupted.

“We are not in this district but I already told my son he should be doing a prayer circle after every game to protest this,” one man wrote on a social media post from the conservative Alpha News.

“Don’t let anyone take your religious freedom away!” a woman wrote.

So why the uproar? Why the feeling of persecution? Why are some Christians feeling driven to fight when, according to my understanding, Jesus himself urged gentleness and generosity?

To learn more, I called Cameron Carson, a hockey dad from Princeton who spread a message on social media in all caps sandwiched between red emergency lights. “Prayer under attack in Minnesota Hockey,” the message read, calling District 10’s action “dangerous.”

“If we allow this here, it will spread across Minnesota, across other states, and across other sports,” his message read.

He received significant pushback online, including from one anonymous parent who said they were a church-going Christian, taught their children to pray and still found it “weird” that some teams practice group prayer.

“Sports aren’t the time or place for religious practices that likely are not practiced by everyone involved,” they wrote.

Carson sees no contradiction between Jesus calling out hypocrites praying in public to increase their social standing and Carson’s advocacy of the on-ice prayer circles. What matters is what is in a person’s heart, he said.

He says the intent of the prayer circles is to establish a bond between kids and to temper the at times ferociously competitive nature of the game.

The traditional hand-shaking between teams after a game doesn’t go far enough to establish good sportsmanship, Carson said, as he has witnessed tit-for-tat behavior between rivals during that time.

Group prayer is different, he said. It establishes a rapport even between rivals, and instills the idea that there’s something greater than themselves. That they kneel on center ice might seem performative, but Carson says they do it there to include both teams before everyone skates off to separate locker rooms.

It sounds lovely. I’m a firm believer in the power of prayer.

The right to criticize Charlie Kirk.

The right to poke fun at President Donald Trump.

We haven’t even addressed how Christian prayer excludes kids of other faiths or no faith.

I’m not saying that the parents fighting to continue the hockey prayer circles are Christian nationalists. Carson had never heard of the Seven Mountain Mandate or Lance Wallnau, for instance, and when he looked it up his initial reaction was that he didn’t agree with it.

But there’s a reason some District 10 hockey parents rebelled when learning their on-ice prayer circles would be discontinued.