Taking Off and Landing

Tonight, as I watched the All-Star game, a moment was taken after the 4th inning to honor one of the game’s best: Roberto Clemente. I’ve never been much of a Pirates fan; growing up, for reasons unbeknownst to only God, I was a Giants fan. But as a child, I was a lover of baseball history. I had big, thick books documenting baseball lore, with great stories of Ty Cobb, Roger Hornsby, Juan Marichal, Bob Gibson. I remember reading about Bob Feller and the 1948 Cleveland Indians, about the ‘69 Mets, about Lou Brock. Growing up, these were my heroes.

Roberto Clemente, however, stands apart as one of the rare breed of baseball players who was an amazing human being. Aside from winning 13 Gold Gloves, collecting 3,000 hits, and being a 12-time All-Star, he was a family man and never forgot what was important. Thus, at the age of 38, he was escorting a plane of supplies to earthquake-ravaged Nicaragua, when the plane went down. His body was never found.
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Reflecting upon my time at the farm, more and more I find myself drawn to those theologians whose work makes an intimate connection between the events of history and the task of theology. If theology has nothing to say to the farmer, then I have to question the value of speaking of it at all. If the language of theology, as has been argued, is really just a matter of psychology, or economics, or physics, then why bother learning this new language of causality, of sin and redemption, of contingency and grace?

Charles Marsh teaches theology at the University of Virginia, and is fast becoming one of my theological heroes. In November, I’ll hopefully be able to shake his hand and tell him thanks for being an example of those that pull together the world of suffering and the world of philosophical theology in a way that, for me, makes sense.

His books on civil rights and religion are matched only by his one on Bonhoeffer, another one of my loves. But here’s the best part: he directs a center at UVA called The Project on Lived Theology, which connects theological reflection with real social action. Unlike a lot of social action projects which never get their hands dirty, Marsh’s project is explicitly involved with getting people involved in thinking theologically and getting their hands in the air. I love it; it’s one of my pipe dreams to find a way to sneak in the back door there.

So, on this day of baseball, here’s to those that do practice their craft and do it with the right ends in mind: that gifts are for giving away, and that our art is for healing. Thank you Charles and Roberto for reminding me that there are those who do what they do, and not for themselves.

Go National League.