The outlook wasn’t brilliant for the Mudville nine that day;
the score stood four to two, with but one inning more to play.
And then when Cooney died at first, and Barrows did the same,
a sickly silence fell upon the patrons of the game.*********
The sneer is gone from Casey’s lip, his teeth are clenched in hate;
he pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate.
And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go,
and now the air is shattered by the force of Casey’s blow.Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;
the band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,
and somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout;
but there is no joy in Mudville—mighty Casey has struck out.—the first, penultimate and last stanzas of Ernest Thayer’s famous ode to baseball, “Casey at the Bat,” 1888; https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Casey_at_the_Bat
Baseball is a great metaphor for spiritual wholeness and healing. The ball itself, scuffed and bruised, rubbed up, and caressed with love and purpose for the perfect pitch, is woven round with one continuous, unbroken lace that emphasizes its miraculous curvature, a feat of physics unrivaled in beauty, balance and finesse. To be a lover of the game of baseball, one must be in for the long haul, patient, persistent, able to deal with failure on a regular basis and still come out swinging for the bleachers. It is a humbling game, a punishing game at times and exhilarating at others. Baseball requires inner strength, focus, strategy, impeccable timing, resilience and a profound reliance on teamwork. It is a game where excellent pitching and defense are just as necessary as the power stroke of a mighty Casey. It may be one of the best spiritual disciplines available to us in our frantically paced, expediency-craving, domination- and appearance-obsessed mindset. Baseball requires us to remember we are merely mortal, all Caseys at the bat. Striking out is as good for the soul as blasting the grand slam with two outs and two strikes in the bottom of the ninth. And no matter where we play on the field, the goal is always to come home. Always. Always. Come home.
Much has been written about baseball and spirituality: https://earthandaltarmag.com/posts/c5yzdfo5hm41lsfffzo3bxc01perze
https://www.patheos.com/blogs/jesuscreed/2019/03/28/5-reasons-baseball-is-a-spiritual-discipline/
https://pres-outlook.org/2008/04/the-spiritual-lessons-of-baseball/
I have also written about our “Field of Dreams” for our beleaguered planet: https://prairiewoods.org/fielding-a-dream/. Baseball can be a powerful metaphor, a spherical wonder, a healing balm for the wider “We.”
Who is in our “sphere” of spiritual concern? Storyteller Jesus told a famous parable to answer this question, “Who is my neighbor?” (Luke 10:25-37; parable of the Good Samaritan). If you remember that spiritual lesson, the point was that the one who does justice, the one who treats another with love and compassion and care—regardless of where that person is in the “who’s in; who’s out” paradigm of inclusion and exclusion—is the neighbor. As my friend and theologian Dennis Hamm, S.J., used to remind his students, “The world is not divided into ‘neighbors’ and ‘non-neighbors.’ We are all One.” Once we exclude anyone from our sphere of concern, we are not honoring the radical inclusivity of gospel renown. Our neighbor is—put simply—everyone. No one is NOT in the sphere.
Spherical spirituality in the post-human age—beyond our anthropocentric world-views that have dominated early 19th-early 21st century thinking and acting—requires that we expand our sphere of compassion even further—beyond our human community. Spherical spirituality invites us to follow the curve of the unbroken lace and keep our eye on the whole of creation. No matter the spin, no matter the velocity, that same sphere encompasses ALL of us, the wider “We,” in our purview of concern. Arbor elders and creature-kin, brother sun and sister moon, sparkling water and scintillating air, pungent earth and crackling flame are all swirling around in that glorious sphere, revolving, spinning, curving, diving, sliding or otherwise heading toward home. We may be floundering. We may be screwed up, a knuckler of epic proportions in the midst of the Sixth Great Extinction, and also the Great Turning. We are all One.
The summer is waning. If the calendar year can be divided roughly into two seasons, baseball season and the rest of the year, it’s time to celebrate what we can learn and lean into as if we are ALL playing for the home team. Stay at the plate. Bear down. Keep your eye on the ball. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. SWING!
“Today I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of the earth.”
—Lou Gehrig, July 4, 1939
Why? Not because he played so well and won so often, but because he treasured the gift that is life, ALL of life, the heartaches and the homers, the love of the whole. That is the heart of spherical spirituality. Let’s “Play ball!”
—Laura A. Weber, Ph.D., Prairiewoods associate director and retreats coordinator