Baseball Theology

I exchanged several text messages with a good friend of mine yesterday. We're both huge baseball fans and both Catholic, so I knew he would get the joke. But I believe most anyone will appreciate the following quip as well.

At one point Nick texted that it seemed most people's baseball memories begin at about 8 years old. I agreed, citing theology. 

You see, the Catholic Church teaches that the age of reason is 7. Typically it's at seven years old we are able to differentiate and appreciate the good from the bad, the right from the wrong, the well from the ill. So I responded it makes perfect sense that we would learn to love baseball by 8. We've reached the age of reason.

I can't think of a better explanation.

 

Why Turn the Other Cheek

A brief and easy read is the book Catholicism, by Bishop Robert Barron. It is a wonderfully instructive and concise view of the Catholic faith. 

Among the many things he addressed one which came across powerfully dealt with Christ's famous order to turn the other cheek. What is often mistaken with that passage is that Our Lord is instructing us to meekness.

He's not. The instruction to turn the other cheek is in fact revolutionary and defiant.

Jesus tells us that if we are struck on the right cheek, offer our left. It's important to know that in ancient Israel you did nothing with your left hand; it violated cultural norms. To strike someone on the right cheek meant the attacker backhanded you. He had to hit your right cheek with the back of his right hand. He would not slap with his left because he could not, by rule, so to speak, use his left hand for anything.

In that light, offering your left cheek was a challenge, a dare. The person attacked would effectively be saying, what are you going to do now? It was you telling the striker he had no real power over you, that he had done all he could and there were no options left. His power was limited, even belittled.

Ideally, such a bold action would cause the attacker to realize his evil and repent. But the key aspect isn't nonviolence (although that is the best possible result) but putting the other guy in his place, showing the world that you, not he, occupies the high moral ground. We are not going to let others trample us. We are in fact calling them out when we turn the other cheek.

Not Quite What I Expected

Never fear, dear readers, I'm not going to start typing out Sunday sermons for you, although I do reserve the right to do so occasionally. I suppose, then, this is one of those occasions.

Recently I've been following the vlog of a young priest, Fr. Mark Goring. I like his style, presence and charisma. He's not fire or brimstone, and when he speaks, he makes easily understandable points. Too many priests can't seem to manage that. At least, they can't manage it without resorting to shallow, saccharine pablum which simply can't pass muster as rational thought let alone ideals which might actually inspire the troops. Further, Father Goring can express deep thoughts in around four minutes while the mindless drivel of many of his peers can profoundly bore us for upwards of twenty. But I digress.

One of Fr. Goring's recent talks was on Purgatory. Catholics believe that Purgatory is a place between Earth and Heaven where the dead not quite ready for Heaven go to be 'purged' of their residual sinfulness. And do you know what Fr. Goring said is the reason most folks are in Purgatory? Complaining about rather accepting and working with their lot in life.

I'm in trouble.

Learning from Fr. Williams Mistakes

No one is perfect. But it seems that some people are held to higher standards when it comes to their behavior.

As they should, quite honestly. When you speak for an institution which calls us, as it says right in Scripture, to 'be perfect', then you ought to expect to be held to a higher standard. That is why it is always disappointing to have a case such as that of Catholic priest and Michigan native Fr. Thomas Williams. He was a leader in the Legion of Christ, a conservative Catholic group itself rocked by other scandals, and a teacher at the organization's school in Rome. He has stepped down from the group and is taking a year off from instruction in light of the admission that he fathered a child several years back.

The atheists and anti-Catholics will have a field day with it. Boiled down to the basic criticism, they will say with snickers and knowing grins, 'So they're no different than the rest of us, those Catholics and other holier than thous'. You can't really blame them. Such scandals are made to order for the skeptics and doubters.

They still fail to see the big picture nonetheless. Conservatives and Catholics, indeed any of the seriously religious, if they take their faith rightly (no pun intended) know they are flawed. They know they are human and will fail to live up the expectations of their faith. Sometimes those failures are spectacular and in the full view of the public. They may even be more wrong precisely because those people speak for institutions or creeds which rightly condemns the actions they have done. Yet such does not and cannot condemn the institution or creed. Fr. Williams, if he was any decent kind of priest at all, would never have taught that he was perfect, but only that the teachings of his Church were perfect and true.

And that is precisely what is neglected by the naysayers who have and will roundly criticize the Church, conservatives, and their friends and allies, not only in this but in other scandals as well. They condemn traditions and institutions due to human weakness. Yet we are called, again, to be perfect. That means we must always strive for that. Yet neither should we expect it. Preaching to that calling yet failing to live up to it ourselves cannot deny the call. It can only mean that we're human. Nothing more.

We will fail to always and everywhere do the right thing, even those of us not seriously religious. Yet that does not grant license to go ahead and do the wrong thing either. When we err, whether in small things or large, all we can do is start again to try to get things right the next time. We do that because we are (or at least ought to be) trying to be perfect. We're trying to do the right thing, to get it right the next time. After all, the next time is all we've got. And one day, maybe, we'll get just a bit closer to the perfection to which we're called. And even closer the time after that.

That is the essence of Catholic and conservative morals. Aim the highest and work towards it. And never take your eyes from the prize even as you fail. You'll be better of for it in the end.