Intentions, Traditions, and Seasons

Well...I'm now a college graduate. Although to be honest that's been a sort of small thing on my docket compared to the enormous mental, emotional and theological mountains I've been scaling since March. When I am finally through all of that I am going to write so much about it that it won't even be funny. But that will be later and not now.

For right now...I will recount something that happened today and reflect upon it...

Today was Memorial Day, and my family went to the Tigers' game. There were tons of ceremonial things going on at the game, starting with a huge procession of veterans who gathered around the edge of the outfield grass prior to the game as players from the Tigers and the opposing Pirates came out and greeted them and stood among them during the national anthem. Then a vet threw out the first pitch, and a few other things happened to remember and honor veterans, and so on.

Then, in the middle of the game, and in fact in the middle of a half-inning, a "moment of silence" was recognized at 3 pm to remember veterans who had sacrificed their lives for America (it wasn't much of a moment of silence though, since a video with sound intended to remind us what to think about was playing on the stadium scoreboard). As the "moment of silence" began and everyone stood up from their seats, I found myself looking around for a few seconds to see whether men were removing their hats, as I sensed it might be customary to do so just as it is when the national anthem is played--but I was not sure, never having participated in a public "moment of silence" on Memorial Day (does that make me a bad American?)

I had only looked around for literally a second or two before I hear a woman behind me shout, "Take off your hat, you ass!" Startled, I turned around as I snapped my hat off my head, trying to see who had shouted and exchanging bewildered glances with a couple in the row behind me, who through their simple eye contact graciously sent me assurance that I was not the one totally out of line here.

I turned my attention to the video screen along with everyone else as it played. When the video ended, I turned back again and stared at the woman who I was fairly confident had shouted at me. The fact that she firmly returned my gaze all but assured me it was her--a dark-haired, middle aged woman of average height and average looks, maybe a smoker.

A part of me wanted to just stare her down for an indefinite period of time, but thankfully the part of me that knew such behavior would accomplish nothing was victorious, and I turned my head back toward the field as the game resumed. I kept my hat off my head and in my hand, though, in some sort of strange, silent, perhaps slightly immature protest toward this woman. I suppose I just wanted her to see that her words have weight and that she shouldn't have thrown that weight around so carelessly, calling someone a name for failing to immediately know the protocol for moments of silence that aren't even silent while standing in a baseball stadium in the United States of America on Planet Earth. I know, I should have studied beforehand, lady. I should have easily been able to follow that path of delineation to have looked it up last week when I first found out I was coming to this baseball game. Just like I should have always read the text before showing up to class all throughout college and all that jazz, but old habits die hard, so you got me again.

Of course, sane people like the gracious couple behind me know that one's actions do not always reflect one's intentions in situations involving rituals with arbitrarily assigned meaning. But, is it then arbitrarily assigned? Or is it connected to God's instructions in 1 Corinthians 11 about men not having their heads covered during worship? Is this something universal? I must confess I doubt I will ever understand or know.

But all I can say from that whole experience is that, in retrospect, that woman was basically a fun little representation of some of the things I fear most about God...that he's saying, "come on Brad, you should have figured this out by now--hasn't my grace led you to a place where you are diligent in knowing my ways? Or has my grace not affected you that way?"

I will refuse to believe that God is like the woman who yelled at me for not taking my hat off. I will not seek a handbook of ceremonies filed by situation...at least I don't think I will. And yet as I write this, I think, how nice to live ceremonially, and have all things marked off by clear, physical symbols--no going by extreme introspection as the primary means of determining when a season has passed, no: you are given a clear visual signal that you are out of one stage and into another, as clear a symbol of a season's end as a touch of orange on a leaf in September. I want that kind of confirmation.