I am among the last generation of American
males to grow up before video games, VCRs, and cable television. Without easy
entertainment inside the house, we went outside and played catch.
You know playing catch. You grab your mitt and
your best friend grabs his. You get a baseball and you throw it back and forth
until it gets too dark to see the ball. You do this every day until throwing and
catching is as natural and easy as walking. Around 13 you start trying to throw
curve balls. You put your fingers to the side of a seam and snap your wrist hard
as you throw the ball. Then you shout with great hope, “Did it break?” Your
friend yells back that he thinks maybe it did, a little.
There is a secret to throwing a baseball. You
can’t think too much about it, and you certainly never try to aim the ball. You
lock your eyes on your target, rotate your shoulders, cock your arm, and shift
your weight. Then you cut loose and let it go. Your muscles and some deep part
of your mind somehow know when to release the ball. This deep knowledge comes
after years of playing catch. The feeling of your arm springing forward behind
the power of your shoulders is incredibly satisfying. This is your power, the
power of a man’s shoulders. You are strong and the ball zips along a straight
line and pops into your friend’s glove. The sound of the ball hitting the mitt
is a wonderful thing.
And then your friend winds up like a spring and
then unwinds. You see his arm blur around his body and there is a white circle
coming toward you at a terrific speed. But you feel no anxiety because your
gloved hand slips forward smoothly and you pluck the ball right out of the air.
You’ve caught a thousand balls, and you know you’ll catch this one. There is a
sharp pop in the leather of your glove that stings a bit, but even the sting is
nice in its own way.
My father bought me my first baseball mitt a
few months before I was born. I loved that mitt and used it until I lost it in
the park one terrible day. The grief was very intense, and even now I mourn its
loss. I saved money from mowing lawns and bought a used glove from a man in our
church. It was my second mitt, and it got me through Pony League and on through
high school. It was delightfully broken in, well oiled and supple, and it fit my
hand like, well, a glove.
In 1980 some of the rawhide straps broke, and I
tied them together in a makeshift manner that lasted through college. After that
the mitt ended up in the back of my closet. Seminary, marriage, and children
changed my life, and baseball was no longer a part of it.
Then I met Cristopher
Robinson, an Episcopal priest here in town. We both grew up
playing baseball and were talking about it and also about sermons. I mentioned
that I had been wanting to get another lectionary study group together. I was in
one years ago and enjoyed it greatly.
Right in the middle of the conversation, I
asked Cristopher, “When was the last time you played catch?”
“Just catch?”
“Yeah, just got out with a friend and threw the
ball back and forth.”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Years, I guess.”
“So why did we stop doing that? I mean, I LOVE
playing catch. I wish I could play catch right now!”
And so was born a new kind of lectionary study
group. I pulled my old glove out of the closet – the one I’ve had since I was
12. I had to re-lace parts of it, but it still feels perfect on my hand.
Cristopher and I get together once a week or so. We throw the ball around while
talking about the passages in the lectionary for the coming Sunday. Sometimes we
just play catch and say nothing. Or we might stop, sit down and talk more
seriously. We do whatever we want to do.
I was scared the first time we met, wondering
how long it would take before I regained my instinctive feel for my arm and my
release. The baseball felt very small in my hand, and I was pretty wild. And
man, was I ever sore the next day. We’ve gotten together three times now, and my
arm has loosened up considerably. It’s starting to feel natural for me to throw
a baseball. I don’t worry about it. I just let it loose and feel the power of my
arm. My whole body moves in the follow-through, and when our "study session" is
done, I feel loose and warm all over.
It’s like the ultimate male yoga.
So this is our lectionary study group. The
rules are simple. If you want to join us, you have to be a minister who is
preaching, and you have to strap on your glove and whip the ball around with us.
While we play catch, we talk about the Bible and what
it means to us. If these requirements don’t work for you, no
problem. Most lectionary groups don’t require you to play catch, so I know
you’ll find something out there that works for you.
As for Cristopher and me, we don't know where
this thing is going, but there has always been a needed connection between body
and spirit, and between work and play. Maybe we'll learn some unexpected things
on this journey. I don't really care though, because I'm playing catch again,
and it's been too damn long since I did that.
rlp
My beloved mitt. I'm back
baby!
Ps – Visitors who want to join us for a
session are welcome. You can hang with us even if you’re not a minister. The
glove requirement stands though. You gotta bring it. If you happen to be in town
and have your glove, you can join us. Send me an email.
