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Shouts of Joy
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14 December 2008 “Love has its sonnets galore. War has its epics in heroic verse. Tragedy its sombre story in measured lines. Baseball has Casey at the Bat.” Most of us recognize at least its opening lines:
The poem was written by a buddy of William Randolph Hearst’s from their days together at the Harvard Lampoon. It goes on to chronicle the single by Flynn, the triple by Blake, near-miracles in their own right, that sets the stage for the mighty Casey, who smiles and doffs his hat when he takes his place at the plate. The umpire calls strike one, then strike two. Casey’s teeth clench for the third pitch; he shatters the air by the force of his blow.
There’s no joy in Mudville. All of the hopes Mudville had been pinned on their Babe Ruth, their Barry Bonds, Hank Aaron, and Willie Mays all rolled into one. All these hopes are dashed when mighty Casey strikes out. There is no joy in Mudville. They didn’t anticipate joy when Cooney and Barrows fell apart. But runs from the hapless Flynn and the despised Blake raise their hopes to an almost-certain win. They did anticipate joy. For those heart-pounding moments when fortunes which looked so bleak are reversed, and Casey comes to bat, they did anticipate joy. Or that’s what the poet tells us. A very different poet from a time long before baseball also associates joy with a reversal of fortune. As Jim told us, Psalm 126 is part of a group of songs sung by pilgrims making their way to Jerusalem and the temple. From the time of the exile roughly 600 years before Jesus, when Solomon’s temple is destroyed and the Jewish people are deported to Babylon, a reversal of fortune is the stuff of Jewish hopes. They dream of a land restored, a temple rebuilt. But carried in that dream is also a recognition that they themselves, the singers of the psalm, are in need of restoration and renewal.[2,399] Oft-quoted Old Testament scholar Walter Brueggemann reflects on the singers of the psalm, the people who give voice to its testimony in the liturgy of their pilgrimage, and observes that Israel needs “to speak its witness out loud.”[3] It’s the “I love you” part of the community’s relationship to God, stating in words the content of their hope, stating in words the shape of their commitment. This has a double effect, somewhat like thinking out loud. The words have an impact on the speaker and on the larger community. Those old enough to remember know that James Brown’s Say It Loud, I’m Black and I’m Proud became one of the anthems of the Black Power movement of the 1960's. Brown’s song was his speech, his witness to who he was as an individual. But in giving voice to that speech in the community, as opposed to singing alone in the shower, Brown’s Black Pride spoke beyond himself to the Black community–and significantly, to other marginalized communities, as well as to the white community. That song played a part in the restoration of a people and gave hope to their process of renewal. The same dynamic takes place in our scripture. The testimony of the psalm affirms the singer, the pilgrim, the people Israel. And it addresses the nations who are paying attention to what Israel is saying and doing in worship. Verse two: “then it was said among the nations, “The Lord has done great things for them.” That last line–it was said among the nations–is enough to take my breath away. It’s a reminder that we often are observed and conclusions are drawn, even when our focus is primarily somewhere else. Consider Smithfield Packing. Their business is ham. Lots and lots of ham. But their treatment of the workers who slaughter and pack that ham was observed, and conclusions were drawn even though their focus is on ham. The treatment of their workers led to an extended and often- intimidated effort to unionize those workers. Smithfield’s treatment of workers–the US Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia Circuit ruled that Smithfield had engaged in “intense and widespread” coercion–was so egregious that the workers attracted the support of churches, including the Central Atlantic Conference and the UCC’s General Synod after a resolution initiated in our own Potomac Association. This November, Smithfield Packing and the United Food and Commercial Workers reached a settlement as to how they would proceed, agreeing to a vote conducted by secret ballot. Some of you may have seen yesterday’s New York Times article titled “After 15 Years, North Carolina Plant Unionizes.” It is no exaggeration to say that the union’s struggle gave voice to workers in the community in a region known for hostility toward organized labor, workers sorely in need of restoration and renewal. At the same time, according to Richard Hurd from Cornell University, the changes signaled with our recent national election “may have eased people’s concerns about speaking out and standing up for a union.”[3] There may be no joy in Mudville, but for some Smithfield workers in Tar Heel, North Carolina, there is joy. For Americans of all ethnic backgrounds, but especially for those of color, there is joy, breaking out in spontaneous celebrations in the streets following our recent national election. Joy that their voices have been heard both within their community and in the broader community. Joy that their present status has been reversed, and a sense of renewal is at hand. That is the kind of joy to which our psalmist gives voice, the kind of joy that simultaneously is intensely personal and intensely communal. It is joy remembered and anticipated in this season as well, in the incarnation, the gift of the living Christ. May that joy be yours. *** [1] Thayer, Ernest Lawrence, “Casey at the Bat,” Published The San Francisco Examiner (06-03-1888), Baseball Almanac, http://www.baseball-almanac.com/poetry/po_case.shtml |