&**%$##!!!!! (part 3)

"It is not what goes into the mouth that defiles a person, but it is what comes out of the mouth that defiles.
"What comes out of the mouth proceeds from the heart, and this is what defiles. For out of the heart come evil intentions, murder, adultery, fornication, theft, false witness, slander. These are what defile a person..."
Matthew 15: 11, 18-20

I've heard the above passages cited as an argument against profanity. But I have to wonder and ask: does a cuss word really defile? Is swearing the fruit of "evil intentions, murder, adultery" etc.? I'm thinking that perhaps Jesus was not referring to those "seven dirty words" that George Carlin was so fond of. (And no, I'm not going to link to those. You can find them easily enough if you are so inclined!)

I think Jesus meant that evil ideas and actions (kind of like the legal definition of free speech) - whether spoken, written or acted upon - are what defile us. It is the recurrent theme of the Gospels: what is in our heart matters to God. Our appearance, wealth and language do not.

I know a young woman - a friend of my kids - who is a devout Christian and an avid Giants fan. She was enamored of Brian Wilson (and this was before the beard), in part because he is not shy about proclaiming his Christian faith. (There is a lovely article about that here.) But one day she saw a game where he gave up a crucial hit, and let an unmistakeable F-bomb fly with full force.

kind of like that.

(photo from google images)

She said that it changed her opinion of him. I was surprised at this, and sarcastically wise-cracked, "yeah, because of course we know that professional ball players never swear..." It gave her pause, and I think she eventually changed her tune. (Besides, Brian's not only an amazing athlete and bone fide goofball, he is a genuinely Good Guy.)

Maybe sometimes profanity is the only way we can express our passion in the heat of the moment. Not all of us can be creative in these moments.

I'm coming to understand that the use or non-use of those few words have little to do with our personal faith walks. After all, what is more harmful: to withhold care for the poor, or an expletive? To wage violence, or to let fly with an angry cuss word? I really think that God cares much less about the words we use than what abides in our hearts.

the Summer of twenty-ten (part VII) - the antedote

The Game.

Poets have said it better than I... it is eternal. It is simplicity itself. It is life. It is the best in us, it is the worst in us. It is green grass, blue skies - it is mud and rain.
It is pageantry and the star-spangled banner. It is a millionaire's game. It is a child's game.
It is not, any more, the national pastime. It is not a designated hitter. It is not Dodger blue, and it is not leaving in the top of the seventh. It is not booing your own. It is not the most expensive seat. It is not the same as having a picnic with a show going on in front of you.
For me, it is the romance: Fathers and sons (mothers, daughters, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, grandfathers, grandmothers) enjoying the game, telling stories, having a catch. It is seeing your kid put a ball in the pocket of his glove, wrap it with a rubber band and stick it under his mattress. It is sportsmanship (and sportswomanship).

It is best friends from kindergarten, all grown up, brought together again by the baseball gods to stand for the anthem.

It is pulling up to a farmstand and finding a cart of balls. It is watching the team win, turning off the television, and passing gently away into that good night. (Good night, Grandad. ♥)

It is Mike Ivey hitting in the bottom of the ninth, bases loaded, on a Friday night against the Dodgers at the 'Stick. It is a frozen chocolate malt blowing off your wooden spoon in swirling winds. It is the record that breaks. It's all that history. It is brothers sharing the outfield. It is old players coaching newer ones. It is the legends.

Mays

Cepeda

McCovey

Marichal

It's the stories: the ones that will break your heart, and those that cause your spirit to soar.

It really is the crack of the bat and the roar of the crowd. It is cheering for the home team, 40,000 orange rally rags waving in unison. It is the remembering of glory and heartbreak and falling in love with the team. It is the chess game strategy. It is the tragedy of the loss. Yes, it is even a bad call at the plate.

photo courtesy of Google images

It is clever, charming, beloved broadcasters.

It is wearing orange on Fridays. It is hating the Dodgers. It is not caring much about the Series unless Your Team is in it. It is crying for joy when Your Team makes it to the Series.
It is not life or death. It is not more important than loved ones lost, or sick, or hurt. But it is a balm against those things. It is a sweet distraction. It is a reprise from the pain. And sometimes it can even be the antidote for the grief, easing it enough to snap the stress and hurt and anger and make all of those things less severe, helping you to go on.

ok, here's something

Hey, I went to a couple of Giants games this month. The first one was July 3, fireworks night, as you can see above. The game was fun; went with a group from my church. The fireworks would have been spectacular, but, well, there was a light shining just above our heads causing some glare, and the light stands and scoreboard obscured some of the view, as you can see.

The next game was with Aaron, and that's always fun. He was a little late getting there, so I had time to take a few pictures while I waited.

I love this group. You've got some real loyal fans here. You've your old school (Clark jersey - from '89 or so). You've got your oldsters, waving their orange pom-pons. And they're all bundled up against our San Francisco summer weather. Humm baby!

This is why I hate peanuts in the shell at the ball park. People eat the nuts, throw the shells and skins on the ground, and the wind picks them up and blows all that gunk in my face. I really hate that; it's one of the few things that sullies a good game for me. (The other two things would be loud fans spouting off disinformation at the top of their voices to anyone who will - or won't - listen, and the stranger who once fell asleep on my shoulder when I was in the box seats by the home bull pen a few years ago.)

Ah, just in time to pull me out of my rant: my date arrives. He's not going to miss a play, even while walking to his seat, loyal fan that he is.

It was a cheap-seat night, and lots of folks came out to enjoy the good deal. Such a colorful crowd. But hey, take a look at those clouds over the bay. You don't see formations like that every day 'round these parts.

That's because it doesn't rain too often round these parts. Yep, it RAINED on us. Just enough to dampen the pavement, not our spirits, no sir.
Oh, yeah, that's rain out there over the bay. But then a really cool thing happened:
A rainbow came out. Usually, you know, rainbows come out for a minute or two and then they fade, right? Well, this one had been out for ten minutes before I finally decided to take a picture of it. It was HUGE.
And it stayed. Here it is, about 15 minutes later. It's getting brighter with the setting sun, and you can see a faint double 'bow off to the left.

Now it's half an hour since it first appeared ~ half an hour!


It didn't disappear until the sun was all the way down; just got brighter and more golden and beautiful.

Oh, and the Giants? They won. Of course!

weekend

I had a lovely time last night with Aaron and our friend Derek at the Giants game. For many years now, I have given Aaron tickets for his birthday. Some years are leaner than others, some years the seats are better than others. This year, we were in a "view box" over the Giants dugout in the upper deck. Tim Lincecum, our 22 year old Cy Young winner, pitched - and struck out 9 batters. Sadly, the bull pen did not support him well and the Giants lost in a heartbreaker. Despite that, I had a great time, talking baseball and hanging out with my kid.

(photo courtesy of Derek Norris)

I can't think of a more enjoyable way to watch a game than sitting next to my son. He's knowledgeable, funny, and loves the game as much as anyone ever has. His buddy Derek drove all the way down from Sacramento to be with us, and he is a joy as well. Recently I saw a picture that was taken on Derek's wedding day. He was standing in a field wearing his suit and a baseball glove ~ and he was having a catch with my boy (who, as a member of the wedding party, was similarly attired) before the ceremony. It is a romantic photo, packed with meaning and love. (And I'm sorry that I don't have a copy!)

Today I have many things on my to do list: mundane tasks - laundry, housecleaning, time in the garden. But also things unique to the day: I'm going to figure out the DSL kit that arrived on Thursday, and take one more step into the 21st century. Tonight is our second Open Mic Night at Bethany, and I'm going to bake something for that (probably "crack"), and get there to set up around 5:00.

Best to get going then!