The Theology of Baseball

I’ve heard it said that Fenway Park is the “Largest House of Prayer in Boston.” This week, more than usual, all eyes have turned to this cathedral of sorts as our hometown boys take on the Cardinals for yet another series. People from all walks of life have come to Fenway to celebrate and cheer as they collectively hold their breath with each swing of the bat. It’s the ultimate fellowship forum. For folks who may not have much else in common, during the post season we have common ground that brings us together.

Common ground is hard to come-by these days. We’ve just emerged after a sixteen-day government shutdown into a couple weeks with even more horrific school violence and natural disasters around the world claiming lives. We need something to root for. Regardless of which team we cheer on, (obviously you all root for the Sox…) having something fun to cheer for helps us when we must dive back into the trenches and face what is happening in the world. Baseball doesn’t make the rest of the world go away, but it brings us together to watch something fun and to hope for a little while.

What is it we see when we watch this “All-American Game?” We see a group of people whose collective purpose is to help one another come home. The entire purpose of the game of baseball is to get back to the place where it all started. When you are home you are protected. When you are home you are finally safe. There is no place else on the field where you experience that kind of safety. But, in order to come back home, you must first go out. You must use the gift of your physical form to go out into the field and to visit different places. While you are there, you will encounter different types of people and have conversations. You will have to watch what is happening around you and discern when it’s the right time to move to another place. Some things will help you get where you’re going; others will try to take you off of the right path. And when you do eventually make it back home –and you will- the celebration is grand.

Is it a perfect metaphor? No, of course not. But what it does is capture some of the reasons so many people are losing sleep. What if we used this momentary interruption of the monotony of life to infuse that hope into our lives, to be curious about our neighbors, to root for something good, and to look at our own paths home? Are you on the path that will get you home safely? What help do you need along the way? Is there a way you could be helpful on someone else’s path? And the thing I most like to ponder: what will the “coach” say to you when you do make it safely back home?

Finishing Last

As the sun came up just after arriving.

Someone has to do it. All of the running blogs and articles tell you that you “most likely” will not finish last when you race. Well, this morning I went and ran a 3.59 mile trail run with only 45 other people. As soon as I saw how small the field was, how BIG the hills were, and the crazy people in shorts and pro running gear running up and down hills for a prerace warm-up I knew there was a very strong likelihood I could actually finish last.

My friend Jane and I started in the back of the pack. With every steep downhill I went back to elementary science and thought: What goes down must come back up. Man alive, the second half of the course was going to be BRUTAL! I kept pace with Jane for the first half of the run but then I needed to back off. My lungs were on fire and running up the hills was not going to happen. I ran on the flats and downhills (which were becoming fewer and farther between) and walked up the hills. But not once did I feel badly about my position. I knew I was pushing myself as hard as I could. The last thing I needed to do was go and have an asthma attack in the middle of the woods – and the whistling in my lungs warned that was a distinct possibility. There were 3 of us at the back of the pack. I could see Jane ahead of me and one other girl a little further ahead. I joked with the officials positioned around the course that “I was making sure everyone made it out of the woods safely.” I listened to my body and pushed it even when I thought I couldn’t but knew it was safe to try.

Starting line before we began. Notice the folks in shorts!

There have been a lot of articles recently about back of the pack runners questioning if we are committed or even “real runners.” It feels a little like the questions I fielded when I was a transitional deacon. To be honest, while it is a little frustrating to know that these elite runners feel the need to comment about what may or may not be motivating runners like me, I really don’t care all that much. I will never be competing for a first place medal – and that’s okay. I am competing only with myself. I am competing to be better than I was yesterday. I am competing to use the body God gifted me with. That’s all – and that should be enough. I am no threat to the elites and I see no reason why it’s become so important for some people in that high bracket of runners to discourage a new crop of runners who might never run a 3 hour marathon (or run a marathon at all!), but who are getting off the couch, making their lives healthier, and inspiring others to do the same.

As I trudged up the hill to the finish line this morning I laughed at myself as I repeated over and over in my head: “and the last shall be first.” I felt like I finished first as I looked down the hill and realized that I had done it. (I know that’s not what Jesus meant when he said it, but he doesn’t mind that I took the scripture out of context – I checked with him.) I don’t know my split times because my running app froze during the race – but that’s okay because I completed my goal: I finished.

You are a priest to me

It is days like today - with interactions that stir the soul - that remind me what it is to be a priest. This morning I was scheduled to go get a mani/pedi since I’m going to a wedding tomorrow and *full disclosure* my feet look like hooves after all the abuse they’ve gotten from my running. It felt a little frivolous but I really just wanted a chance to relax and to feel pretty. I went in and a woman named Lynn took care of me. I was scattered when I arrived at the salon and chose 4 colors since I couldn’t make up my mind. I sat in the chair, apologized for my feet, and took a deep breath. Lynn quietly and gently got to work. I asked her name and about her family. She asked me about my family and about the event I was attending. I told her about my race on Monday and what a gift it was to be able to be pampered like this right now. The conversation naturally, and comfortably calmed to a silence and I closed my eyes.

Lynn gently and lovingly went about her work. I have never had a pedicure like this before. She was ministering to me in a really lovely way. I could feel the presence of God in her touch. It was eerily beautiful. When we moved over to the manicure station I asked Lynn more about her family and her life in Vietnam before she moved here. She told me that she always knew she wanted to do nails and hair and to “help women see themselves as beautiful.” She said she could have done other things but she loved seeing people smile when they feel pretty. She was describing a sense of call. I know that sense – I have it for my vocation as well.

My whole day presented these types of interactions with friends and strangers alike. These glimpses of holiness in the everyday. I spent the late afternoon making gluten free communion bread and the opportunity to help in that way while being able to be quiet and in solitude was a real gift.

Then this evening I went to get tea with a lovely friend. We talked about our respective lives and feelings. I was struck during our conversation with how easy it was to sit there with her and to palpably feel the Holy Spirit with us. I literally got goose bumps. Neither of us were putting on airs or trying to force anything. We were just present, as we are – trusting it was enough. As my friend spoke I could hear the Spirit in her words and I was moved to tears.

All day I have been struck by the fact that I am surrounded by priests. No, they are not necessarily ordained – but they are priests to me. In the circle of saints and the priesthood of all believers we all have the potential to affect sacramental change in the world. Every action and interaction has the potential for holiness when made with intention and care. Is this a theologically complex subject? Maybe. Do I believe it to be true? Absolutely. So thank you to all of you who have been or will be priests to me. You may not even know that you have given me this gift, but your goodness shines through you. I am grateful beyond words tonight for the gift of the priests in my midst.