This page was created on November 1, 2004
This page was last updated on January 4, 2005

I'm a die-easy baseball fan. I cheered my home team (the mighty Mariners) in 1995, and even most of 1996... and by 1997 I was content to see the sports highlights on the morning news. Since then, it just isn't fun any more. Particularly after whatever year it was that they won 116 games but couldn't survive the playoffs...

At any rate, should the Mariners ever even make it to the World Series, I may give a polite nod in their direction, but frankly, I'm Mari-nerd out.

But I confess I turned on the Sox-Yankees games more than once, and caught at least part of all the World Series games.

So why the sudden (pseudo-) interest?

I'm not sure. But like Mike, I think there's more to it than an innately competitive nature, or even a slightly exaggerated urge to root for the underdog. Just in examining my own fickle sportsfan status, I've come to see a pattern of behavior that is at least somewhat more honorable than uniting against a common enemy, and that is this: uniting for a common hope.

Granted, for that hope to be fulfilled, we had to root against the Cardinals, but the widespread cheering for the Red Sox certainly (in my estimation) had a more positive spin than rooting against the Yankees (which, I freely admit, I vocally joined). I think there may be a part of us that longs for the unity of purpose we find in cheering on a sports team—a fragile unity, one that may be severed under an umpire's call, but a unity nonetheless. In fact, I'd go as far as to say that somewhere, deep down, that longing for unity is the unfortunate root cause of all disunity—because we do want unity: but on our own terms, and with like-minded people. And before we know it, we are focused on the two things that make us different, rather than the 999,998 things that we have in common.

But then, every once in awhile, something like the World Series comes along, and we can—even only just for a moment—forget our political, religious, ethical, moral, sexual, food, color, and toothpaste preferences and gather 'round the water cooler and have a peaceable, invigorating conversation, beginning with the simple question: "How 'bout them Sox?"

And maybe, if we hold on to that commonness long enough to realize how much we enjoy it—just maybe—a greater peace is closer than we might think.

Well, I'm going to take it down another notch and state up front that I didn't catch any of the games mentioned in this month's articles. I tend to be the type of person that makes it to a professional sporting event once or twice a year. For me, it is more about the event rather than the game itself. So, if "we" lose, my day goes on without a hitch. That's my level of emotional investment. When ever I hear people relating themselves to a team win, I am reminded of a Seinfeld monologue where he talks about people saying "We won!!! We won!!!" His response? "They won. You watched."

With those disclaimers out of the way, I do tend to live in Jenn's world where sporting events can offer positive benefits for those actively or passively involved with them by providing a common sense of unity and hope. The only sport that I follow is cycling. My initial thoughts were that thankfully cycling isn't burdened by these sorts of issues. Why do I think this? Look at a race like the Tour de France. In addition to the famed yellow jersey, there are several other overall classifications as well as daily winners. Just finishing the race or, in fact, starting it is an honor. There's plenty of recognition to go around. In addition, cycling teams are composed of members of various nationalities and team affiliations are often short-lived. So, team rivalries, if present, are rarely deep-rooted.

I was forced out of Jenn's world when I remembered that the sport does suffer from the same sort of venting and projecting that is deeply entrenched in other spectator sports. This year, during the Tour de France, extra security was needed because of threats made specifically against Lance Armstrong. There were also reports of fans swearing and spitting at him. I guess that cycling isn't immune from this sort of behavior, and I'll have to come down from my ivory tower.

Speaking of fans swearing and venting, it's probably just a convenient coincidence that there was an all-out brawl at a recent basketball game between the Pistons and the Pacers. I'm hoping that I'm not going to ruffle any feathers by listing the teams in that order since tempers appear easily roused. I do find it amazing the ways that people justify their venting of hatred and aggression when at some level it is just a game. Thankfully, only a small faction of the millions of sports fans out there act out on these urges.

I do appreciate Mike's challenge to leave the past behind. It does take a shifting of gears to move in another direction once something that has become so woven into tapestry of one's identity changes. What do you do when you "finally" get what you want? When that thorn in your side has been removed? If that really was all that stood between you and happiness, then you should celebrate it rather than repeating the pattern by inventing a new foe. Easier said than done, but I think that it is definitely worth trying.

Feel free to browse the contents of past journal entries on After Eden! Click here to go to the archives index now.

In 2 Corinthians, the Apostle Paul speaks of Christianity as "the ministry of reconciliation."⁵ By this, he means that the central story of the faith is the reconciliation of Man to God through the blood of His Son, Jesus. Christianity, then, is the ministry of reconciliation because all who claim the name of Christ are ministers—literally, servants in the Greek—of God's specific conciliatory purpose.

But Christianity is not only the ministry of reconciliation—it is the ministry of all things godly. One of the other theological terms applied to the act of Jesus' death on the cross is redemption. In conceiving Hollywood Jesus, David Bruce understood that Christianity is also the ministry of redemption—and in particular, it is the redemptive hope for our culture: not through legislation, stone-throwing or critical negativity, but through showing us the godly things already embedded in our culture. For God reveals Himself through all that He has created, even the things that we may not particularly like.

After Eden is dedicated to this redemptive vision. We believe, as G.K. Chesteron put it, that "humanity is not incidentally engaged, but eternally and systematically engaged, in throwing gold into the gutter and diamonds into the sea."⁶ That's not a reality we endorse. We'd like to help salvage the gold from the gutter, and rescue the diamonds from the sea.

Mike Gunn is a pastor at Harambee Church in Tukwila, Washington, and was cofounder of Mars Hill Church in Seattle.

Jenn Wright is a writer with degrees in literature and theology. She is co-writing the Narnia coverage for Hollywood Jesus, which has debuted this fall in anticipation of the first movie's 2005 release.

Hollywood Jesus Senior Editor Greg Wright is a writer and ordained minister of the dramatic arts. He teaches English Literature at Puget Sound Christian College, and is author of Peter Jackson in Perspective: The Power Behind Cinema's The Lord of the Rings.

Editor Dave Stark is an ordained minister and former Microsoft manager. He is now a partner in Restoring Hope Construction.

The Devil's Advocate is a composite personality of our consultants and editorial staff. He may look like someone you know -- and probably thinks like a lot of them.

Wes Westrum
On Baseball

Baseball is like Church. Many attend, few understand.¹

Thomas Boswell
On Baseball

...worships the obvious and gives thanks that things are exactly as they seem.²

Commissioner Ueberroth
On Baseball

Other sports play once a week but this sport is with us every day.³

Commissioner Frick
On Baseball

I'd hate this to get out but I really like opera.⁴

Chesterton
On Perception
It is a strange thing that many truly spiritual men... have actually spent some hours in speculating upon the precise location of the Garden of Eden. Most probably we are in Eden still. It is only our eyes that have changed.⁷