Believe Because You Saw or Believe What They Say

I had hopes of spending the next few paragraphs discussing in depth the peculiarities of Shoeless Joe and finding some great new understanding about the nature of God in baseball—perhaps, a revelation akin to the one Ray Kinsella had—but upon reading the novel I could not separate it enough from The Iowa Baseball Confederacy. There was, however, one interesting aspect to Shoeless Joe that I feel greatly distinguishes it from The IBC; when time is skewed (e.g. Ray’s meeting with Doc Graham or Archie Graham’s appearance on the highway) there is no complete break from reality. The characters are able to interact with those from the past without being forced to leave “actual time” completely. At first I wrote it off as a conceit that each story created, just another means to convey a message, but I started to think of the implications of the two: actual time being broken completely allows for one person (or select group) to have a religious experience while actual time’s blending with a more sacred time can involve many people. It seemed at the end of Shoeless Joe that if one was willing to take the leap they could become part of the experience that Ray created; in The IBC only Gideon and Stan are truly able to say they saw the game that lasted over 40 days. I see this as two methods of finding or believing in a faith. Shoeless Joe posits that faith comes from experience, those that are involved, or in this case, that let themselves be involved are welcome to enjoy the fruits of “believing.” The IBC presents that only some people are in fact open to such experiences and we choose either to believe or not to believe what they say.

In “Religion As a Cultural System” Geertz states the “basic axiom underlying what we may…call ‘the religious perspective’ is everywhere the same: he who would know must first believe.” He says this in response to a quote by MacIntyre that mentions how “we justify religious belief…by referring to authority.” Authority is not what is worshipped, but we turn to these experts to guide and instruct our thoughts. I can’t help but disagree with this. I understand Geertz’s notion that in order to know there must first be belief, but I am hard pressed to trust someone else’s ideals before trying to experience and interpret these “religious” moments on my own. Geertz says that a religious belief comes not from everyday life, which would make us agnostics, but from the following of some prior authoritative figure. For those who’ve never been introduced to religious authoritarians are they not welcome in a religious system? Would they not have the ability to create their own? Or is religion solely a construct for the masses?

The use of “authority,” however, could be mended in MacIntyre’s statement. It assumes that there is always one person or synthetic object (e.g. The Bible) that is the source for authority. This association that religion or religious systems come from a man-made authority echoes in my ear because lately I’ve come to accept that a person’s religion best suits them when it is molded around personal experience. If authority were changed to mean any object, thing, or idea natural or artificial that in one person opens up truth, then I would agree that religious systems are based upon authority. In order to find this, one must find “authority” through personal practice. When we are able to see Shoeless Joe hit along side Moonlight Graham then we can understand the nature of religion as it pertains to ourselves.

Michael Novak: The Baseball Zealot

Synonyms with zealot vary from ‘believer’ to merely ‘supporter’ and quite aptly ‘fanatic’—especially when discussing Novak’s The Joy of Sports. Novak is kind enough to explain his etymology of ‘fan’ being derived from not only ‘fanatic’ but also ‘fantastic’, for Novak I think the latter is merely wishful thinking. I consider Novak a baseball zealot because his understanding of the game seems unwavering as he makes blanket statements about baseball and religion alike (i.e. ‘the Vatican could be located anywhere; only tradition would be violated’). I don’t plan on arguing the true locations of holy spots throughout the world, what Novak’s opinions (half of which I have trouble agreeing with) do is reinforce in my mind that baseball is in fact a religion.

Zealots exist in any sort of belief system; there are always a few who take the written texts and holy events to a level that rational society deems ‘too far.’ And because I can see that Novak is a fanatic over baseball, along with many others, I cannot help but conclude that baseball has religious elements. Novak believes the difference between ‘profane time,’ moments spent working at utilitarian necessities, and ‘real time’ is that real time reminds one of the ‘swiftness and uncertainty’ of profane time. When one watches a baseball game—games that could go on ad infinitum—one is swept up in the transient nature of the world we live in. But Novak tries to make it clear that entertainment merely distracts us from necessity until we are forced to return to it; sports are not distractions but epic battles that reenact all that is true about life—winning, losing, pain, struggle, success. What about the people that truly do go to games for mere diversion for I am sure these people exist (rogues!)? I think this is true in religion as well. There are always those who attend a service or comply with a belief system out of need to distract themselves from the throws of life, not truly engaging themselves in the eternal elements of the religion.

However, Novak seems to look at sports from two different angles—the observer or fan and the athlete. When describing ‘defeat as death’ Novak focuses on the aspect of athlete facing defeat against a daunting foe. Can an observer truly understand the pure energy and velocity that guides these athletes? Of course, one feels a certain vicarious existence along side athletes but are we in the same situation as the players? And do the athletes experience the same religious sensation as a fan does watching his heroes compete?

I had never questioned the role of the athletes in the Baseball religion because I had always assumed it was meant for the observers. A baseball player may admit a longstanding desire to be a professional but at the end of the day they admit that sport is their job. This is exactly how it should be. Never, in a long while, has a self proclaimed God-incarnate been accepted by society—we say they are delusional. We want humble heroes that succeed without arrogance and act as guides. These are the people we venerate. These are the men we write about and remember when recounting with other fanatics the glorious days of yore.

Novak was difficult to interpret because I believe he took rational thoughts one step too far—baseball lowered crime in Detroit, flat claims about religious holy sites and teams more memorable than ones own family. It was in his generic assertions that I could see the unbelievable power people put in baseball. Griffin said it best: “If order is to be found in a meaningless universe, a man has to impose that order; a way of doing it was through the ritual of sports,” or religion—the two words are synonymous.