Scripture Redeems Itself

One of the most provocative and helpful books I have found on the nature of the Bible and how Christians may receive it and read it is Kenton L. Sparks’ book, Sacred Word, Broken Word. I will have some future posts that reflect on his proposals, but today I want to share one wonderful passage that makes a point about how Scripture “redeems itself.”

One persistent problem we face when reading the Bible is figuring out what to do with passages in the Hebrew Bible (OT) that command the Israelites to exterminate entire nations like the Canaanites. Sparks posits that such texts reflect the fallen viewpoints that ancient peoples held about their gods and what they wanted them to do to their enemies. In such cases “the Old Testament law participates in the broken state of human affairs and is thereby a vivid portrait of our need of redemption.”

Though God “adopted” the words and viewpoints of these ancient authors, it does not mean that everything they wrote reflects God’s point of view. We accept the Bible as authoritative, not because it is a perfect book that always communicates God’s thoughts. Sometimes it communicates the “finite and fallen perspectives of human authors and, thereby…the limited and fallen horizons of human cultures and audiences.”

Sparks’ point of view is in line with what Michael Spencer wrote in his classic post that Jeff recommended yesterday, “A Conversation in God’s Kitchen” —

Genesis isn’t twentieth century science. Leviticus is primitive, brutal and middle eastern. The Old Testament histories are not scholarly documentaries, but religious and tribal understandings of God and events. Proverbs comes from a mongrel wisdom tradition throughout the middle east. Song of Solomon is erotic poetry, and not much else. The prophets spoke to their own times, and not to our own. The scholars who help me understand these books as they are, are not enemies of truth, but friends. Call it criticism, paint it as hostile, but I want to know what the texts in front of me are saying!

The Old Testament and New Testament Canon are the selection of those parts of our spiritual literary heritage that make up the Great Conversation about the Judeo-Christian God. The Bible itself is a human book, created and complied by human choices. There may be other writings that contribute to the conversation, but those who know and experience the God of Jesus Christ hear the conversation most plainly in these writings. Canon is that human choice of what to listen to. Inspiration- the next section- is the validation and expounding of that choice.

The conversational model allows for a number of helpful ways of approaching scripture. For instance, it allows a variety of viewpoints on a single subject, such as the problem of evil. Job argues with Proverbs. It encourages us to hear all sides of the conversation as contributing something, and doesn’t say only one voice can be heard as right. Leviticus has something important to say that Psalms may not say. This approach sees the development of understanding as a natural part of the conversation, and isn’t disturbed when a subject appears to evolve and change over time. This model allows some parts of the conversation to be wrong, so that others can be right, and the Bible isn’t diminished as a result.

Most importantly, this model says the Bible presents a conversation that continues until God himself speaks a final Word. In other words, I do not expect this conversation to go on endlessly. It has a point. A conclusion. And in that belief, the great Biblical conversation differs from the Great Books conversation. There is not an endless spiral of philosophical and experiential speculation. There is, as Hebrews 1 says, a final Word: Jesus.

Sparks agrees and argues that in the course of this conversation later Scriptures, reflecting the progress of redemption and the brighter light of the Gospel, redeem the earlier stories by reversing “the law’s broken, violent, and dangerous elements” and pointing us to Christ and the inbreaking of God’s rule.

Continue reading “Scripture Redeems Itself”

Bible Reading Ideas

This morning I asked you if you read the Bible on a regular basis. Your comments have been honest, frank and refreshing. They have also, to own the truth, been a bit discouraging. I believe reading Scripture is valuable as we walk darkly in this world. Perhaps it is a dark walk because our eyes are closed and Scripture is what will open them. In any case, many have said they don’t read the Bible because it is boring or hard to understand, and I wanted to offer some tips that might help. Take what you want from this list, or nothing at all. There will not be a quiz at the end. (Seriously. Bible reading is not a requirement for eternal life. All that is required, as Robert Capon would say, is your ability to die. And we will all become experts at that.)

Read this first.  A Conversation In God’s Kitchen is one of my favorite Michael Spencer essays. It will—or, at least, it should—change how you approach Scripture. No more “the Bible is the handbook of how to live your life” crazy talk. And no more arguing about whether or not the Bible is inspired. Read this post and you will learn what the Bible is for and what it is not for. Print this off and give it to your pastor. I did. His response after reading it? “This changes entirely how I approach reading my Bible.” That was my response as well.

Continue reading “Bible Reading Ideas”

The Bible Tells Me So

On a hot Saturday afternoon in August, 1973, I attended an outdoor music festival at a Baptist church in Centerville, Ohio. My experience was similar to one C.S. Lewis commented on. When I went there, I wasn’t a Christian. When I went home, I was. My life was changed forever that day. I had begun my journey of faith. And one of the first things I did as I set off on this now 39-year journey was to get a Bible—King James at the time—and began reading it every day. I needed help in understanding it, which I got in a church where Scripture was highly valued and taught at every turn.

Today I still find that time spent reading my Bible is one of the most important things I can do. To me, it is food I choose not to live without. There are times it is fascinating and encouraging. There are times when it is dull and boring. There are times I can’t put it down, and other times it puts me to sleep. It is not a magic book, with pixie dust surrounding it. It is a book, or rather, a collection of sixty six books written over a period of more than a thousand years, encompassing all of human history. But it is above all other books in that the entire thing was God-breathed. The Spirit of God rests in its pages. I cannot explain this. It just is. And when you pick up this book and read it, you can experience this Spirit.

There are many reasons to read the Bible, but only one way that really makes any sense to me, and that is to encounter God. Any other reason does not interest me. If I cannot encounter the Lord in the pages of Scripture, I would rather read Sports Illustrated or watch a movie or pull pine needles out of my gutter. Ok, maybe not that last one. But you get the idea.

Yet it seems many—actually, the majority—of Protestants surveyed recently by Lifeway don’t read their Bibles at all, or at least not on a daily basis. You can read about the survey and its results here. My question for you is this. Do you read the Bible on a daily basis? If so, why do you do so? And if not, why not? This is not a trick question. I really want to know what part Scripture plays in your faith journey.

Your thoughts?

 

 

Just above the Horizon (with Bubblegum)

Another moment I have always remembered was walking out on deck one night after supper and finding a young red-haired officer peering into the dark through binoculars. He told me he was scanning the horizon for signs of other ships, and the way to do that, he explained, was to look not at the horizon but just above it. He said you could see better that way than by looking straight on, and I have found it to be an invaluable truth in many ways. Listen not just to the words being spoken but to the silences between the words, and watch not just the drama unfolding but the faces of all around you watching it unfold. Years later when preaching a sermon about Noah, it was less the great flood that I tried to describe than the calloused palm of Noah’s hand as he reached out to take the returning dove, less the resurrection itself than the moment, a day or so afterward, when Jesus stood on the beach cooking fish on a charcoal fire and called out to the disciples in their boat, “Come and have breakfast.”

– Frederick Buechner, “Wunderjahr”
from Yellow Leaves: A Miscellany

* * *

Truth generally doesn’t knock on the door and introduce itself when you open up to see who’s there.

You might recognize a fact that way, the way you open a book and it says Roger Maris hit 61 homers in 1961.

But a fact like that is just like a name on the map, the place you used to live, let’s say.

Truth, on the other hand, comes when you remember how it felt to ride your bike over the old brick street in front of your house in that little Midwest town, while the baseball cards you had clothespinned to the back wheel thwack-thwack-thwacked against the spinning spokes.

And then you recall that one of those cards might have been a 1962 Roger Maris.

You bought it the summer before, when you and a few of your buddies rode your bikes like banshees to the corner store several blocks away, jumped off, set your kickstands, and poured through the door. The smell of bread and candy wafted over the wooden floors and counters and the gray-haired lady in the apron by the cash register greeted you as if you were family. She kept her eye on you, too.

Some older kid had announced that the latest series of baseball cards was out, and every single one of you raced home to dump the change out of your banks, and scrounge it from under your bed, off the kitchen counter, wherever you could find it. You stuffed it into your pocket and the screen door slammed behind you as you jumped off the porch and mounted your bike.

Now, there in the store, you dug through your pockets and counted that change. How many packs could you buy?

You flipped through the shiny plastic packs in the display boxes and picked out the ones you hoped held a rare and precious card. Your grubby little boy hands piled jingling coins on the counter. A few strays had slipped out of your pocket and spun on the floor. You reached down and picked them up and put them in the pile. The lady counted your money, rang it into the register, gave you the change, and handed you a brown paper bag. You and your crew rushed outside to make your discoveries.

You stuck as many pieces of the hard pink bubblegum as you could in your mouth and examined your cards. There it was. Roger Maris. Home run champion of all time.

Then you and your friends, with all your loot, pedaled like mad pirates back to the neighborhood. “Maris! I got Maris!” you cried as you saw the older kids playing wiffle ball in their driveway.

Your bike wheels rumbled over the bricks until you whipped left into your driveway, slammed on the brakes and skidded, laying a line of rubber on the concrete. “Hey mom!” you shouted as you burst through the screen door and the kitchen and bounded, two stairs at a time, up to your room. You fell on your blue cotton bedspread and laid the baseball cards out in front of you.

One by one you looked at them, chomping on your bubblegum. You picked up that special card over and over again, examining every detail.

“Wow,” you thought. “61 home runs, 142 RBI’s. Roger Maris.”

And that’s the truth.

Overcoming God’s Reluctance?

Last Sunday’s Gospel, Mark 7:24-37, has to contain one of the most puzzling set of stories we have about Jesus. The first tale in particular, the account of Jesus’ encounter with the Syrophoenician woman in the region of Tyre, is a doozy.

Jesus left that place and went into the region of Tyre. He didn’t want anyone to know that he had entered a house, but he couldn’t hide. In fact, a woman whose young daughter was possessed by an unclean spirit heard about him right away. She came and fell at his feet. The woman was Greek, Syrophoenician by birth. She begged Jesus to throw the demon out of her daughter. He responded, “The children have to be fed first. It isn’t right to take the children’s bread and toss it to the dogs.”

But she answered, “Lord, even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs.”

“Good answer!” he said. “Go on home. The demon has already left your daughter.” When she returned to her house, she found the child lying on the bed and the demon gone. (CEB)

Jesus had just engaged in an intense theological debate about what was “clean” and what was “unclean.” It was so controversial and taxing a situation that he immediately up and left the country. Apparently he went alone. He went where no one would think to look for him — to the Gentile region of Tyre, a place inhabited by people the Jews considered their bitterest enemies. The text makes it clear that he needed to get away: “He didn’t want anyone to know that he had entered a house, but he couldn’t hide.”

Do you have room in your understanding for a Messiah who needed a break? Who got tired? Who felt “burned out” by intense relational battles and passionate debates with rivals? Who literally fled town, found a place of refuge, and tried to shut the door so he could get some peace and quiet for a change?

Having just given an eloquent speech about removing the stigma of putting people in “clean” and “unclean” categories, he sought refuge in a place deemed “unclean.” Having made the argument that the problem we face is the common human problem of polluted hearts and not unwashed hands, he goes to hide out among people whose reverence for the law amounted to less than zero. Maybe he thought in a place like that he could escape the kinds of theological wrestling matches that drain one’s life and soul.

One thing is clear: He didn’t go to Tyre on a mission. He apparently didn’t go there to prove his point about people not being unclean just because they didn’t keep the laws of ritual purity or to show that Gentiles were going to be accepted on the same basis as Jews into his Kingdom. At least not yet. It seems he just wanted some R & R. He wasn’t seeking to “reach” the Gentiles there or perform works of healing or signs of the Kingdom.

So, when this determined and persistent woman who had somehow heard about him and what he could do barged in on his solitude and cast herself at his feet, begging for him to heal her demon-possessed daughter, he denied her request, in effect saying, “Sorry, it’s not your turn yet.” And he said it in no uncertain terms, using language that would have characterized the unfriendly relations between Jews and non-Jews. We’re the good guys, you’re the dogs. No soup for you!

Is that possible? Many who read this story think Jesus must surely have been testing her. As one commentator wrote, he must have had a little gleam in his eye, a sly smile on his face when he said, “The children have to be fed first. It isn’t right to take the children’s bread and toss it to the dogs.” Surely he was trying to draw out her faith with a teasing, provocative challenge, right?

But wait — hadn’t she already exhibited great faith? Why did Jesus feel the need to respond to her with such harsh, demeaning language?

Is it conceivable that Jesus could get cranky? Can we imagine him irritated by a seeker who won’t take “no” for an answer?

Or perhaps, can we accept Tom Wright’s statement that this story is “a sharp reminder to us that Jesus wasn’t simply called to go around being helpful to everyone”? That Jesus had a mission, that during his lifetime it had a narrow focus — proclaiming the Kingdom to Israel — and that anything which might threaten the success of that mission had to be resisted?

Whatever the reason might have been, this woman outduels him with clear and clever insight. But she answered, “Lord, even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs.” It may not be our time, she retorts, but even if it’s not there must be something available to us.

And there was. Her daughter was restored.

Could it be that this woman actually taught Jesus something here? That her quick and unforeseen response caught Jesus off guard, delighted him, and moved him to act? That her faith surprised the Savior?

I will not claim that I “get” this story. Throughout my Christian life I have heard it said that prayer does not involve overcoming God’s reluctance but laying hold of his willingness and readiness to bless us when we ask.

But what if he calls me a “dog” and tries to send me away?

Wilderness Update: The Next Step in the Journey

On Monday, I will begin the next leg of my journey into ordained ministry in the Lutheran Church (ELCA). Having been accepted into the process (“Entranced,” in ELCA lingo) based on various interviews and documents submitted, tests taken, and background checks completed, I will now find out my recommended course through a Theological Review Panel that will interview me to determine what I need to be called into official ministry. They will ask about my Biblical, theological and historical knowledge, my practical experience, and my familiarity with the Lutheran world.

I have anticipated some of their recommendations and enrolled at a class at Lutheran School of Theology in Chicago, which will also begin on Monday morning.

Therefore, I will awaken early, make the drive to Chicago, begin my studies and meet my mentors. It will be a big day, and I would appreciate your prayers as God brings me to mind.

Here are a few of the things I’ll be meditating on throughout the day, statements that have impressed me in my preparations.

* * *

This church confesses Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior and the Gospel as the power of God for the salvation of all who believe.

  • Jesus Christ is the Word of God incarnate, through whom everything was made and through whose life, death, and resurrection God fashions a new creation.
  • The proclamation of God’s message to us as both Law and Gospel is the Word of God, revealing judgment and mercy through word and deed, beginning with the Word in creation, continuing in the history of Israel, and centering in all its fullness in the person and work of Jesus Christ.

As I’ve said in other posts, one characteristic that attracts me to the Lutheran tradition is its insistent and persistent focus on the Lord Jesus Christ as central to the Christian faith. Just as I was attracted to Michael Spencer’s writings here on Internet Monk because of his emphasis on “Jesus-shaped spirituality,” so I have found in this tradition a wonderful emphasis that puts Jesus right at the center of everything.

* * *

Individuals are ordained to the ministry of Word and Sacrament because they have been called by God. This church believes that the call comes to individuals from God both personally and through the church….

  • Ordained ministers, called by God through the church, are accountable to the Word of God for the sake of the Gospel of Jesus Christ;
  • Ordained ministers are called by God through the church and are not self-chosen or self-appointed;
  • Ordained ministers are called by God through the church for a ministry of servanthood, and not for the exercise of domination or coercive power; and
  • Ordained ministry is a privilege granted by God through the call of the church and is not a right of the individual.

To be honest, the process I am in can sometimes be frustrating. I have my seminary degreee and over thirty years of ministry experience. Yet it is not my “right” to insist upon a certain path to ministry or a role of my own defining. I must wait upon those who question me, test me, and call upon me to slow down and participate with my local congregation, synod officials, and seminary professors in a continuing process of discernment and discovery. I feel safe and cared for within a community that is listening to God and working together to advance his Kingdom purposes as well as to protect candidates like me and the churches we will serve.

* * *

This church expects its ordained ministers to honor and equip the baptized for their ministry in the world. Such a ministry involves giving leadership in the church’s witness to the world, exhibiting awareness of the global challenges of a multicultural, diverse society, and enabling the members of this church, through the faithful teaching and preaching of the Word of God and the administration of the sacraments for their ministry in daily life.

– Visions and Expectations: Ordained Ministers in the ELCA

“In the world” — this is the context in which the baptized followers of Jesus are to live out their faith, their love of God and neighbor. The goal is not to build a bigger church organization, though we seek to reach the world with the Good News of King Jesus. The goal is that those who gather in Jesus’ name to worship and receive the ongoing grace of salvation through the Word and Sacraments will scatter into their homes, neighborhoods, offices, shops, schools, and communities, where they will live out faith in the ordinary vocations to which they are called. All Christians are ministers, but for most of us, our sacred tasks involve daily work and relationships in “secular” settings. In the common places of life we live sacramental lives. It is the minister’s duty not merely to build a congregation that functions well within the walls of a church building, but a people who spreads the love of Christ throughout the world.

Psunday Psalms: Psalm 3

King David, Chagall

Psunday Psalms
Devotional Thoughts on the Psalms

* * *

Deliverance is the Lord’s;
Your blessing be upon Your people! Selah. (Ps. 3:9)

* * *

In some respects, we can think of Psalm 3 as the “first” psalm.

Understanding that Psalms 2-12 serve to introduce the book, Psalm 3 is where the narrative begins. What narrative? The story described in Psalm 2 —

  • The Lord reigns (despite all appearances).
  • We now live in a time when the “nations rage” against the Lord.
  • Nevertheless, the Lord will ultimately triumph through his anointed King (Messiah)
  • Blessed is the person who takes refuge in the Lord

This message was put together for exiles in Babylon who needed to be encouraged by it.

  • The nations had triumphed over them — or so it seemed.
  • Their God, the Lord whose palace was the temple in Jerusalem, had been defeated — or so it seemed.
  • The king who had ruled over them in the anointed house of David had been vanquished — or so it seemed.

Forcibly removed from the Promised Land, they dwelt as exiles “by the rivers of Babylon,” under the domination of foreign rulers and without opportunity to practice the religion of the covenant they had made with God at Mt. Sinai.

Those who compiled the Book of Psalms realized that the people of Israel needed a narrative to explain their situation and to give them hope. So they started with the story of Israel’s most revered ruler — King David. The first two “books” or divisions in the Book of Psalms are filled with psalms that have headings linking them with David and his story.

And what was David’s story?

  • It was the story of an unlikely hero.
  • It was the story of one chosen by God even when others appeared more qualified to represent God.
  • It was the story of one who suffered before he triumphed.
  • It was the story of one whose way to the throne was marked by misunderstanding, persecution, and disappointment.
  • It was the story of one who had to learn to wait on God and his timing.
  • It was the story of one who even experienced the members of his own household turning against him.

It was the story described in Psalm 3:

  • His enemies said: “God will not deliver him.” (3:1)
  • Nevertheless, he cried out, “Deliver me, O my God!” (3:8)
  • And in the end he proclaimed, “Deliverance is the Lord’s!” (3:9)
King David, Chagall

This is the narrative of David’s life and the compilers and editors of the Book of Psalms saw it as paradigmatic for the life of Israel. Lament is the native language of God’s people. Until God’s Kingdom comes and his will is done on earth as it is in heaven, the powers arrayed against him rage and resist. This life of conflict and trial characterized the story of David.

It is also the story of the Son of David, who was vindicated by God who raised him from the dead, a death his enemies planned and carried out against him as he continued to trust his Father.

That means it is your story and mine, too, we who are “in Christ.” Paul and Barnabas instructed their churches in ways mostly unheard of today. Acts 14 says, “They strengthened the disciples and urged them to remain firm in the faith. They told them, ‘If we are to enter God’s kingdom, we must pass through many troubles.’” 

If you don’t believe that is one of the best ways to “disciple” someone, perhaps it’s time we started taking the Book of Psalms seriously in our lives and churches.

iMonk Classic: Rebaptism – What Is It?

Classic iMonk Post
by Michael Spencer
 From September 2008

I’m going to write about rebaptism, an issue that has deeply affected and weakened my own denomination, the Southern Baptist Convention, and an issue that touches every Christian communion I am aware of in some way.

Rebaptism is a very emotional issue. One reason we don’t talk about it is how quickly it becomes an occasion for disagreement and division. I have seen many tears and heard many angry words over this subject. Just thinking about it and remembering what I have experienced has brought strong emotions back to me, even as I wrote.

Baptism stands at the entrance to the Christian experience. Christians may differ on exactly where that doorway occurs in relation to faith or forgiveness, and they may quibble about how directly that doorway leads into full communion in the church, but all Christians place baptism at the beginning of the Christian life, and assume that those who walk through it are, in some way, a part of the visible people of God.

In baptism, all Christians believe divine promises are heard. All Christians believe that baptism is, in various and very diverse ways, related to faith. All Christians believe that when the Church baptizes, it speaks a word from God to the one baptized, and a word to all Christians and all other persons who know the one baptized.

Amidst all the diverse and differing beliefs regarding baptism, there is a great common belief: This person is a part of God’s people, and is the recipient of God’s great promises in the Gospel.

I say all of this to make one point: For anyone to reject baptism- either their own or another’s- is a powerful and serious statement. It is powerfully divisive.

To reject one’s own baptism is to say something deeply revealing about what one believes about baptism, but more importantly, it is to say something revealing regarding the Gospel itself.

Continue reading “iMonk Classic: Rebaptism – What Is It?”

Saturday Ramblings 9.8.12

Good morning, iMonks. How is the weather where you are? Here in the flyover state I call home, it has cooled down from the 100s to the low 80s. Break out the mittens and scarves. Put another log on the fire (and tell me why it is you’re leaving me). And while we’re at it, what say we take a walk down the ramblin’ road?

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The news this week was dominated by some event in Charlotte, North Carolina (a city, by the way, totally lacking even one good barbecue restaurant). Before we get to those fun and games, let’s look at a few other items that may be of interest to you. First up is the Trio in Rio. A notary public granted marital status to a man and woman and woman in Brazil. Yes, the three are now married to one another. How long before this happens here in the United States?

What is here now is 3D printing. And guess what someone has figured out how to do? Print a gun. That’s right, no more seeking out a back-alley dealer in untraceable handguns. Now you can simply print one off in the comfort of your own cave. Adam Palmer spotted this, and finds it disturbing. You?

Continue reading “Saturday Ramblings 9.8.12”

Together on a Stretch of Green

To begin with, as I say, my introduction to golf came when I started swinging myself out of my shoes with that old cut-down ladies’ club at age three and was taken by my father to the golf course, where I was permitted to ride on his lap while he was mowing fairways with gangmowers pulled by the club’s old Fordson steel-wheeled tractor.

– Arnold Palmer, A Golfer’s Life

* * *

My earliest memory of golf is a vague picture in my mind. I’m a little boy, four or five years old, running behind my dad who is pulling a golf cart on a flat stretch of green in Galesburg, Illinois. It seems to me he let me take a swing every now and then, and I recall chasing the occasional gopher and noticing their holes as we made our way around the course.

Several years later, when I was old enough to mow the lawn, I set the blades low and mowed a circle in our back yard, dug a hole and worked on it until I could fit a can in it for a cup. I can’t remember if I put together a makeshift flag on a stick or not, but at any rate, I had my own green, my own golf hole. It was a dogleg left. I teed off from the front yard and tried to hook the little plastic golf ball through the narrow side yard around the house’s back corner to the hole. Those little plastic spheres didn’t putt too well on the rough surface, so I would replace them with a real dimpled ball from my father’s golf bag. Sometimes I got tired of hitting the plastic balls too — it really wasn’t very satisfying — so I’d tee up a real golf ball and take a whack at it. Until I broke my parents’ bedroom window a couple of times and real golf balls became verboten in the yard.

My father has always loved the game. When he wasn’t playing, he was watching it on TV. Wherever they’ve lived, he has belonged to a club or played in a league. When he retired early, he and mom ultimately found themselves relocating to a community in Tennessee noted for its golf courses. They still live there and he plays a couple of times a week.

At various times in my life, I have played too, but I’ve never become a “golfer.” My buddies and I used to play in high school, but I hardly ever played while I was in college. Where we lived in Vermont in our initial ministry, the local club let pastors play unlimited golf for $50.00 a year. (Honey, why did we leave Vermont again?)

Seminary years again found me preoccupied with studies and work and starting a family and pastoring a church. Guess what? Not too much time for golf, though I used to play with guys from church occasionally. It wasn’t until we moved to Indianapolis and I joined the staff of a church whose pastor was a golf fanatic that I started playing regularly. We had outings and trips and leagues, and I enjoyed every moment — though I’m sure I still owe my wife big time for all the time away while she was taking care of kids. When I left that church, I still played some, but not nearly as much. Too much time, and too much money — plain and simple. That was over ten years ago, and I’ve never gotten back on track with a regular golf game.

I still love to watch golf on TV, especially since having gone to watch some tournaments in person and realizing how amazingly good the pros are. I help with a charity golf tournament each year to raise money for a friend’s foundation that honors his late son.

And this weekend I have a special treat.


The BMW Golf Championship tournament is being held here in Indianapolis. I bought tickets for my dad and I to go together. Although he’s been to some senior tourneys, he has never been to a regular tour event. He just turned 79 years old. As much as he has loved golf, I figured it was way past time. I have not been to one since 1989, when the PGA Championship was in Chicago at Kemper Lakes. Arnold Palmer was still playing then, for heaven’s sake!

So you see, we’re not fanatics or anything, just a couple of guys who enjoy a game. Like baseball, the game I love best, golf is a pastoral activity that is as much about what happens between the action as it is about the action itself.

It’s also one of those games that happens to be about fathers and sons. Tomorrow we’ll take another one of those walks together — a little slower, stopping more often. Other people will be swinging the clubs and keeping score, and I doubt there will be any gophers in sight. But dad and I will be together on a stretch of green, chasing a little white ball together.

I can’t think of too many other places I’d rather be.