One of my very few good memories from my Little League baseball days ironically occurred when I was batting against the very best pitcher in our league. Jim was a great athlete. He went on to star in football, basketball, and baseball in our local high school and then went on to pitch for Ohio State University in college.
I, on the other hand, was the epitome of the 90 pound weakling. I love sports and played them all in neighborhood pickup games, but I was severely overmatched when it came to organized baseball. So, when I stepped into the batter’s box that day against this hard throwing lefty everyone, including Jim, my coaches, and me, knew that I had zero chance of getting the bat around fast enough to hit Jim’s fastball.
The only things I had going for me were that I was a good bunter, and a had good baseball mind, even at age 10. I don’t remember if the idea came to me while watching Jim pitch from our bench or in the on deck circle, but somewhere prior to stepping up to bat I noticed that when Jim’s follow through when he released the ball was carrying him toward the 3rd base side of the infield. So I concluded that if I could bunt the ball to the first base side it would be harder for him to field it.
Our bunt sign was a tug on his ear by our first base coach, and I was thrilled to see him flash me that sign. My plan worked to perfection. I was able to lay down a good bunt up the first base line, far enough that neither the catcher nor the pitcher could get to it in time and short enough that the first baseman couldn’t either. I don’t remember if I was able to advance from first that day, and I’m sure Jim got me out every other time I faced him unless I drew a walk because of my small strike zone. But on that one day my David was successful over Jim’s Goliath by using my head when my braun was far from up to the task.
A current example of that principle occurred just two weeks ago. Unless you are a Sr. citizen like me and a long-time college football fan the name Wayne Woodrow “Woody” Hayes may not mean much to you. But in Columbus, Ohio you only have to use the nickname “Woody’ and everyone knows of whom you speak. Woody was the longest tenured head football coach of Ohio State University football from 1951-1978, amassing 13 Big 10 championships and 5 national titles.
College football was, granted, a different game in many, many ways back then, but the biggest difference on the field was that the running game was much more important than today’s emphasis on passing. So Woody was famous for his offensive philosophy dubbed “4 yards and a cloud of dust.” He also liked to say that “when you pass two things can happen, and two of them are bad.”
I have a non-football point here, so bear with me, please. About two weeks ago Ohio State suffered a huge upset at the hands of bitter rival the University of Michigan. These OSU Buckeyes have one of the best passing offenses in the nation and used it to score their only touchdown of the game quite easily just before half time to tie the score at 10-10. Buckeye Nation breathed a huge sigh of relief thinking the Offensive Coordinator had awakened from his post-Thanksgiving slumber. But then in the second half the Bucks reverted to a Woody offense repeatedly running the ball into the center of Michigan’s defensive line, the strongest part of their line, even when it gained very little.
The end result was a scoreless second half for OSU and a stunning 13-10 upset loss to an unranked, five-loss team we were favored to beat by 20 points. There are no shortage of Sunday and Monday morning quarterbacks in Columbus, but I hit upon an Advent-related theory to what happened in the “Shoe,” (the nickname for OSU’s horseshoe shaped stadium).
So here goes: OSU has been accused, after losing three straight games to Michigan, of being “soft.” So my theory is that the OSU players and especially the coaches had two goals on November 30. One was to win the game, but I think the second goal may have taken precedence over winning; and that goal was to prove how “tough” they are. And the way to do that is to prove you can run the ball successfully against the highly ranked Michigan defensive line.
And so we kept doing that over and over, even when it was quite obvious to us “expert” fans that it wasn’t working. Sometimes, OSU coaches, playing smarter is better than brute force. I think the play calling, and football in general, is a. prime example of toxic masculinity. But here’s the Advent connection. John the Baptist was a wild man, tough enough to live in the wilderness and eat wild honey and locusts, but even he knew his kind of strength wasn’t the most important. John said, “… the one who is coming after me is more powerful than I, and I am not worthy to carry his sandals.” (Matthew 3:11) John didn’t understand Jesus’ power, but he came to prepare the way for one who was the real Messiah, the one who was able to reject all of Satan’s temptations of worldly power, who taught us to turn the other cheek, to pray for, to love, and even forgive our enemies!
Author Joseph Nye Jr. didn’t reference Jesus’ kind of power in his 1990 book, “Soft Power,” but the parallels are significant. Nye’s work argued that post-Cold War we need a different approach to international relations than the “Hard Power” of military strength and war. Soft Power relies on things like diplomacy, negotiation, compromise, and collaboration.
In similar words Jesus came in the tradition of Isaiah, Micah, and other Hebrew prophets who proclaimed peace that beats swords into plowshares, and treating aliens in your midst like everyone else. He knew real power is as Psalms 20:7 says, “Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the Lord our God.”
This all explains why Jesus was born in a barn and not in a palace; why he picked fishermen and tax collectors for his disciples and not temple or political leaders; why he washed feet at the Last Supper; and why he told Peter to put away his sword in the Garden of Gethsemane before going peacefully with his captors to the cross. Jesus knew where the real power lay, even at age 12 when he chose to be in God’s house teaching the elders rather than listening to their version of power.
Jesus knew that those expecting a warrior king, including the Zealots and some of his disciples, were wrong and he resisted their urging to take up the sword and drive the hated, oppressing Romans out. Can you image what a debacle that would have been to put Jesus’ rag tag band up against the Roman legions? Jesus knew better.
Unfortunately 2000 years later we are still not as smart as Jesus was at age 12. As a pre-teen Jesus knew no one wins in the game of war. Violence of any kind only begets more violence and perpetuates the cycle of revenge and retribution.
My prayer is that for Advent and Christmas 2024 is that we will let this child lead us and that his true message of peace on earth for all people will penetrate deeply into our notion that wealth, worldly power, and toxic toughness have never worked and never will. Come, Lord Jesus, Come.
Peacefully Harsh 