Big-leaguers, the Ball, and the Cross

My son gave me an article to read out of his Sports Illustrated called "Loving Baseball: What Keeps the Grand Game Great? Everything Old Is New Again." It's thesis is that baseball is timeless, at least compared to other modern sports. This is because it's about history as much as the current happenings. What other sport gives you as much opportunity to relish the present in light of the past?

Baseball is a game out of time.... Think about this for a moment: What else but baseball connects us to America of, say, 1891? What else has burned so long in our consciousness? The American population in 1891 was less than about one quarter of what it is now. That was before movies, before television, before radio before Hershey bars, before Wrigley gum, before even Brett Favre. America the Beautiful had not been written. Dracula did not exist [yes he means the novel by Bram Stoker], no Roosevelt had yet been president.... The Olympics, more than 1,500 years since their last staging, would not resume for another five years.

The author, Joe Posnanski, points out that baseball is also played without a clock, and for this it is ridiculed by its critics:

The people who do not love baseball feel its timelessness too. They lampoon a game that feels ... so ... yesterday. They mock baseball ... for its interminable pauses, for sparking so little violence and motion for struggling to adapt (No replay? Really?), for being measured by numbers well to the right of decimal points. "You made me love baseball," Lisa told Bart on  The Simpsons. "Not as a collection of numbers, but as an unpredictable, passionate game beaten in excitement only by every other sport."

Baseball falls on hard times in a culture where happiness is equated with excitement instead of patient obedience. You must wait for the drama. It will reward, you just don't know when. But to be there in the moment it happens is bliss. Those interminable pauses are really opportunities for historical repartee. Remember when Bruce Sutter lept into Daryl Porter's arms? Remember, "Go crazy folks! Go crazy!" Remember Adam Wainwright striking out Brandon Inge to win the 2006 World Series? Remember Brummer stealing home? That's Whitey Ball! Would you rather have Willie McGee or Jim Edmonds on your dream team? (I'm obviously a Cardinals fan). Thus the present is always drenched in the past. This makes baseball fans more than history buffs. The liturgies of baseball turns us into a historical community.

But football is different. Football is about looking ahead, betting on the future. Football is about recruiting and the draft and three-team parlays on Sunday. Sure football celebrates its history, but only as history, like a married couple that every now and then looks at the wedding album. In baseball, history is a living and breathing character. When Mark McGwire hit 70 home runs and then Barry Bonds hit 73 and 762 and both, one publicly, the other tacitly, later acknowledged having used steroids--well, that wasn't just an unhappy incident for many baseball fans. It was a crack in baseball's timeline. It broke up baseball's one hallowed connection to Hank Aaron and Roger Maris and Babe Ruth and the past. If football's history was wiped blank tomorrow the game would go on, as popular as ever. Not so baseball.

Baseball, in this way, illustrates something true about the church:

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God (Heb. 12:1-2).

Each time we celebrate the Lord's Supper or hear the preacher proclaim the gospel or sing an ancient hymn "everything old is new again." Covenants are ancient but they are always being renewed. Christ is present in the Supper and "we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses." "Therefore ... let us also lay aside every weight ... and let us run with endurance the race." History is alive in the here and now, defining the true from the false, the orthodox from the heretical, and the living from the dead. We don't have to be slaves of the culture, bound to its fads by the shackles of cool. Just like baseball can keep Pete Rose out of the Hall, instant replay out of the calls, and put real grass back into stadiums, the church has its own culture that defines it in every age and keep it in fellowship with every Christian down through the ages.

Baseball's biggest problems, like those of us with thinning hair, seem to happen whenever it tries to act young. The All-Star Game in Phoenix feels to me like a three-day comb-over. Look, the All-Star Game will never be what it was.... Progress leaves behind casualties. The efforts to keep the All-Star game vibrant and cool--such as the interminable Home Run Derby, the baffling player-selection process and giving home field advanage in the World Series to the winning league--make baseball look as if it's wearing black socks with sandals and saying "dude" a lot. Many of the game's most popular players, including Jeter himself, were not at the game this year. And fewer people watch it on television than ever before.

Similarly the church's biggest problems happen when it tries to be relevant. This is not because it is trying to be something it isn't. It's because the church is already more relevant than any of us can tell right now. Look how it has outlasted every ruler and philosopher that declared it dead from Nero to Mohammed, from Voltaire to Kant, from Nietzsche to Sartre, and it will certainly be here when Ditchkins is gone. C. S. Lewis once quipped, "All that is not eternal is eternally out of date" ("Charity," in The Four Loves). G. K. Chesterton wrote, ‎"The church always seems to be behind the times, when it is really beyond the times" (The Ball and the Cross). If we, the church, would stop trying to be cool, and just be our God-given selves, we might realize how eschatologically cool we are! I see more baseball and Bible in the future.