Dear Edwards Church Community,
Hope springs eternal. I know, because as a baseball fan I have mostly pinned my hopes on either the Baltimore Orioles or Boston Red Sox. They are both American League (East) teams, which means they must face the dreaded NY Yankees. For 8 of my first 10 years as a child, the Yankees won the pennant – not encouraging. But over the next 10 years, Baltimore won 4 times, Boston 2, and New York not at all, so things were looking up. After that, however, over a 40 year span, New York has won the league (or division) 11 times, Boston 4 and Baltimore 2. This means that over 60 years, the Yankees beat my team 19 times, and my team won 12. Maybe now you have a new appreciation for the T-shirt that reads, “I support two teams. My team and whoever beats the Yankees!”
The start of baseball season also means that tulips and daffodils must be making their appearance soon. After an up and down, mostly mild winter, Easter came early, maple sap got dizzy from starting and stopping, and folks with many years of sugaring experience tell me this might be a tricky year for avoiding the bitter stuff that can flow when you tap too late. Still, hope springs eternal – for baseball, flowers and sweet maple syrup.
There are, of course, even greater reasons for hope. Reading the book Being Mortal: Medicine and What Matters in the End, by Dr. Atul Gawande, I was reminded of events in my own life and the lives of people I have known as a pastor. The book describes the development of nursing homes and assisted living, the gradual take-over of the natural processes of aging and dying by the “medical industrial complex,” and the unfortunate degree to which we have inadvertently surrendered deep meaning.
Acknowledging that human life – at least our natural life – is inherently limited, Dr. Gawande concludes that “the role of caring professionals and institutions … ought to be aiding people in their struggle with those limits.… But whatever we can offer, our interventions, and the risk and sacrifices they entail, are justified only if they serve the larger aims of a person’s life. When we forget that, the suffering we inflict can be barbaric. When we remember it the good we can do can be breathtaking.”
When smart, talented people – and he’s a surgeon, no less – recognize the limits of their ability to make a positive difference by doing more of what they are good at, that gives me hope. And when they exercise the wisdom of that self-awareness to do more lasting good by allowing other forces larger than themselves to operate, they are often doing more good by appearing to do less.
Jesus could face a lot because he trusted the God who sent him and called him. He placed the meaning of his life in the hands of a process he could not control, and to which he could only say yes or no. He said yes, and all that he did – with God’s help – gives me hope. Now, let’s play ball!
Happy Spring, and blessings,
Michael
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