Saturday, October 19, 2013

Second edition: The rituals

When I was growing up I learned the rituals not from a book, not from a professor, not web, not a video and definitely not on TV.  I learned the rituals for my family faith traditions from participating in them with my parents. My dad taught me the rituals of baseball. My mom taught me rituals of church.


My hope is that we recognize that our rituals are natural and serve a purpose; they enable us to engage in a personal, intimate way with the worship of God and the baseball game itself.


The baseball rituals learned from home.  We always learned and celebrated the day the Red Sox gear was packed up and shipped to Florida for spring training.  In the dead of winter, we always knew opening day was going to happen (As if there was a risk it would not happen).  Reading the Boston Globe sports section and listening to Bob Lobel on Channel 4 sports, we knew pitchers and catchers had begun their workouts. Before I knew it, I was practicing sliding, on the baseball diamond in the melting snow. In gymnasiums skills workshops had begun. There was a bond formed between all baseball players all around the country, at all age levels, and in all leagues.  Baseball takes time. Baseball requires skill development, mental focus and endurance (especially when you live in the Northeast). I learned the game playing it, participating in it and watching it. Actually, we often listened to the games on the radio if the Red Sox had a TV blackout.  We also learned when to cheer, when to boo, when to shout and when to be silent. For example, never speak to a pitcher when they come of off the mound, until the coach says they are finished for the night.

The baseball rituals were universal. Any field, any night, little league, college or pro, the rituals always guiding everyone from the start to finish: batting practice, snagging fly balls, in-field rounds, stretching and short sprints. Where you leave your glove, hat and bag are sacred decisions, never to be messed with by another person. To do so, was to break a covenant deep in every ball player's heart. How you put on your uniform, which undershirt you wore, etc.  Every detail had a direct impact on the outcome of the game and your participation. 


My mom brought me to church when I was young. We had to dress up, I only had one sport coat, it was a winter wool blue blazer – so my decisions were made easy. We always arrived early to get ready for Sunday school.  Practice, practice. Singing in the choir, serving as an acolyte and helping mom with the altar guild tasks or preparing the flowers: they all required practice, time, patience and working with others. We always knew the season. The color codes make it easy. We always anticipated the next season especially if we had to check supplies or music or make liturgical movement changes.  Soon, the actual worship rituals became part of my being, conscience and unconscious mind.  As grew older, I went to worship in other churches, and found that most of the rituals the same, give or take a nuances. Once and awhile something new would be added (when to stand, sit, kneel, when to open ones hands, when to look up and when to look down. Before I  could recall the words, the actual prayers: I was familiar with the act of ritual and I could participate without effort.


Rituals often start with the wardrobe, what to wear. Usually we wear what will bring good luck to the game and affirm our allegiance to the Red Sox. Red, "B", Hats, earrings and even your actual soxs are all part of the ritual. When you attend Fenway, even for the first time, you are instantly in a large, complex dance. Multiple rituals at the same time.  Same as church, right? The ushers greet you. The ushers guide you to your seat or at least send you in the right direction. As you take your seat, your senses are on over drive: the smells, the lights, trying to anticipate what you will see, the sounds of voices, greetings and storytelling. And then the music starts. At Fenway, we all stand for the national anthem. We know to remove our caps. We know when to sing it or simply listen. We know to start the applause before it is over. We stand for the first pitch and then we sit. Then we watch. Soon we clap, or someone shouts "Go Sox" or "Ump – get glasses".  We watch all nine players on the field, the batter and on-deck circle all at once. Amazing. We stand and sit, we "ooh and ahh" together.  Inning after inning. At the 7thinning,  we stand and we all sing "Take me out to the ball game".  In the 8th we sing "Sweet Caroline".  If there is foul ball that lands near you, everyone knows to wave the TV cameras. Then we quickly giv e a shout out:  "give the ball to the cute kid". There is always a cute kid sitting near the person who caught the ball. The faithful stay until the final pitch. We call those "true fans of the game".  What we eat and when matters. I start with a sausage sandwich in the 1st inning, Fenway frank in the 4th and sometime ice cream in the 7th. Did I mention the peanuts before the game?


At church, as we anticipate the start of the service, we look at the bulletin (the line up). We stand as one for the opening, processional (gathering hymn).  At the processional cross passes the corner of your eye, your head bows. After the hymn, we have some call and response prayers and another song. Then we all sit at once. We watch the movement, all of it. We keep an eye on the reader or preacher too. Some of us listen, others pray and sing and others do both. It is all good.  I was taught to mark the pages of the hymnal and prayer book, so I could reference those pages easily when the service arrived at the point.  Like baseball, we often think about that to wear. Sometimes it is time to "dress up" and other times it is something more practical, like a soccer uniform or birding outfit or a warm sweater.


I could go on and on about the rituals of the faith community and attending a Red Sox game. I bet you could too.  Again, my hope is that we recognize that our rituals are natural and serve a purpose; to enable us to engage in a personal, intimate way with worship of God or the baseball game itself.

 


Go Sox! Maybe I will see the rest of you at the altar tomorrow.

Benediction for President Kerry Murphy Healey's Inauguration

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(I was invited to offer the benediction, thanks to my wife, who is on the faculty at Babson College).


I invite anyone with an academic hat, that is not pinned into place, to remove it. All Red Sox hats may remain on your heads.

Creator, Sustainer, Pain-bearer and Life Giver:  For centuries, in the pursuit of knowledge and understanding, your people have gathered to ask for your Grace, your Companionship and your Blessing, Therefore, we bow our heads as we open our hearts to you.

We call upon you to bless President Dr. Kerry Murphy Healey, the 13th President of Babson College; Bless her with great wisdom, endless hope, a thirst for justice and intellectual curiosity as she leads this college. Bless her with patience for herself, her family and the Babson Community and bless us, that we may offer President Healey the same.  

Enable her to walk humbly with Thee, so when she falls, You may raise her to succeed to new heights. Bless her with great joy and happiness that only come from her pursuit of loving You, and the privilege of leading Babson into a brighter and greater future. And, may President Healey forever be reminded whom she serves, her Creator and her new family: Babson College of the past, present and future.

Bless the staff, faculty, trustees with a never wavering steadfastness and pursuit of the full mission of this college. Bless the students here today with eager minds and bigger hearts for humanity. Bless the alumni of this college, those who have walked these grounds before us, to appreciate their great value in the future of this college, and our hope instilled within each of them for all they will accomplish for humanity. Bless the former presidents of Babson, as they continue to give themselves fully to the possibilities you have laid before this community.

May everyone here and our family around the globe, the entire Babson family, support President Healey, acknowledging that it takes a village to achieve the hopes we have claimed today. Send us forth from this place with peace in our hearts to celebrate as ONE BABSON FAMILY. Amen.


--
The Reverend Mark C. McKone-Sweet, Rector
Saint Dunstan's Episcopal Church
18 Springdale Avenue. P.O.Box 515
Dover, Massachusetts 02030

(w) 508-785-0879 (cell) 781-801-3586
(e) revmark@saintdunstansma.org (web) www.saintdunstansma.org
Rector's Blog: http://revmark-walkthewalkaftersunday.blogspot.com


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Saturday, October 12, 2013

First Edition: There is always a seat

Baseball and the Church have so many characteristics in common, do they not? Every game, like every church service is predictable. Most of us who come to worship, come to receive relief from their lives, to share in the companionship of others and to seek hope and joy. A few come kicking and screaming.

 

The amazing truth, over the past century, there is always a seat waiting for you (expect, perhaps the BIG, high services or October games). We will get to that later.

 

Think about it. 162 games a year. Most of us mortals are lucky to attend 2 games, let alone 10 games at Fenway in a year. There are many churches what would jump for joy if their faithful would attend more than 10 times in six months (think Christmas and Easter), let alone once a month over the year. Two times, usually translates to Christmas and Easter.

 

At Fenway Park, even if you show up once, you are welcomed with open arms. Modern rituals and the age-old traditions tug at your heart, mind and soul. It is an awe inspiring experience to approach Yawkey Way with a ticket in your hand, to walk through the turnstiles, to approach the ramp, to see the light grow, the sounds grow, and the landscape of the park open before your eyes as you step out of the tunnel into the room full of 39,000 people and grand field before you.  All of this before taking a seat in Fenway Park. You take a deep breath and an usher helps you find your seat. The usher becomes you best friend. If these are familiar seats to you, you may get a hand shake or hug from a familiar face.  A few people may greet you, but for the most part, all eyes are forward.

 

At your local church, you walk towards it, across the grass or through the driveway. The doors to the church stand before (closed or open). Like Fenway, the building grows, drawing your eyes to the sky. As you enter the church, you are greeted. The smell, the sounds, the sanctuary grow before you, as you enter. The usher is your friend, if this is you first time or your 1,000 time. As you find your seat, some people may welcome you with a smile, close friends will give you a hug, others are deep in prayer and still others are shy, they don’t know you. All eyes are forward. 

 

At Fenway or in the pew, as you sit down, you can’t help but consider the how many people have sat in your seat? Try to imagine the lives that have crossed over this very seat and worn it down, smooth with prayers, hopes, fears, tears, joys and life changing moments … in the very seat you now place yourself.

 

For easy math, let us assume the Red Sox play 162 games a year, ½ are home games. (Though we all know that have added more games over the years to the regular reason) and let us use 100 years. Well, then in your seat, upper grandstand, section 26, row MM, seat 10:  100 x 81 games = 8,100 people have sat in that seat in the past century. If you are lucky enough, you have sat in the same seat for a few years, maybe even a decade; perhaps you have sat there for a 100 games or perhaps this is your first time in this seat.

 

For the sake of simplicity, let us consider Saint Mary’s Episcopal Church, Newton-Lower Falls. They just celebrated 200 years as a congregation. We will assume they have worship 52 Sundays a year, for 200 years = 10,400 Sundays. And so, 10,400 people have sat in that very seat over the past two centuries. If you have been a member of the church for twenty years, then you have may have sat in the same seat for 500 services.

 

Even before the national anthem or the gathering hymn start, you find yourself immersed in history; surround be angels of the past, all living vicariously through you today. Imagine how you add to bless those who will come after you.

 

You are experiencing the past, present and future all at once. 

 

I am simply a Red Sox fan with four decades in my blood. I am simply a child of God with more four decades Christ within me.

 

Go Sox.

 

The Reverend Mark C. McKone-Sweet

 

Come Join the Fun!

 



A priest of the diocese, while we were attending a Red Sox game in September, asked me if I would ever consider writing about the lessons/truths shared between the professional baseball, specifically at Fenway, home of the Boston Red Sox AND the Church (our parishes). Not sure if what I am about to write satisfies his vision, but this is what I have to offer.

And so, I propose to write a short essay on few subjects: I’ll add more if the year is extended further. At this point, I am hopeful Red Sox will play on.  Here is are few of the topics forth coming.  As always, please excuse all the typos, grammar and lack of complete sentences. Writing is not my gift. 

The first edition will be posted in the next 30 minutes. 

First edition: There is always a seat for you
Second edition: The rituals: reach to the depths of your heart and soul
Third edition: Hope, there is always hope
Fourth edition: Taking the experience(s) into daily life
Fifth edition: Passing the tradition from generation to generation.
Sixth edition: Ye of little faith!
Seventh edition: Oh what shall we wear?
Eighth edition: Tithing, the dollar cost of being faithful
Ninth edition: Music, oh the music
Tenth: A family friendly experience, really.
Eleventh: Who is not here?
Twelfth: The food, oh the food.