How Not to Offend People

"The world promises you comfort, but you were not made for comfort. You were made for greatness."

Pope Benedict XVI

We are in the midst of an "anything goes" culture where morality is taking a downward spiral right along with common sense, as depression, divorce, dissatisfaction, boringness, and overall mediocrity are skyrocketing in all of their glory. See, I know what you're thinking. It sounds like a real hell-hole of a society. Where do you live? America, thank you very much. And this is precisely the point I'm trying to make. We've gotten altogether way too comfortable with, well...comfort. 

When I say comfort I don't just mean that we have enough food in our homes at any given time to feed a pack of wolves, or that we have clothes way too expensive to be lived in, or even that we have cars that are nicer than some people's houses. No. As messed up as that is, I'm not really feeling like going there right now. What I mean by comfort is the sense of comfort that one has upon going to a baseball game in which there is no knowledge of, attachment, or fidelity to either team. There is a carelessness about it. It is easy to spend most of the time in line at the concession stand because we are bored with the actual reason we are there, the game. 

So while we are spending $5 for a baseball brat and a $5 for a  beer, (Excuse the condescending tone. I do not judge, I've totally done it), fans are screaming, cheering, singing, enjoying the game. But what do we care, we have no allegiance to either team. In fact, we can't even remember if the home team is American or National League. 

At the baseball field this boredom and indifference might be okay, but in life it's unacceptable, and it has proven devastating. If we don't know which team we play for, the opponents, their stats, the field we're playing on, or the rules of the game, all hope is lost. If we know all of this like the back of our hand, yet we are too scared to get out there and play ball, we are victims to an awful shame and a horrific "could have been." 

So, my advice to you, if you like brats and beer and comfort, don't speak up. Don't play for a team. Even better; say you play for a team, then chicken out when it's game time. That keeps you looking like you know your stuff, all while never having to run the bases. But for those of you to whom the nosebleed seats and the dugout just aren't good enough, you take up your bat and step onto that field, regardless of how hard the home team "boos." For Jesus' picks up his wooden bat - the cross, and runs the bases for you to this day, playing for the win. And really, who doesn't want to play with Jesus?