Defense or “De-Bench”

Twenty-five seasons as a high school basketball coach at a small Christian school in the Florida Keys often colors my ponderings as I seek to understand my own journey of faith.

Hopefully you will stick around and endure this gristly old coach’s ramblings, even if Sports Center is not part of your daily ritual. And for those who do not recognize the name Dick Vitale, translations will be provided.

Basketball coaches seem fond of inspirational clichés. One of my favorite basketology phrases was “defense or DE-BENCH”. My players, of course, understood and quickly learned what I valued and knew that “P.T.” (translation: playing time ) depended upon both their desire and ability to play defense.

You see, after being pounded by schools in Miami, during my first two seasons, I decided that I no longer wished to be the “cupcake” on everyone’s schedule. (Cupcake: bet you figured that one out on your own.) Not only was most of our competition 2 - 3 times larger in enrollment; our kids’ hands were more comfortable with a fishing pole than a round ball.

We needed a edge. I decided we would play defense: hard-nose, in your face, full body contact, man-to-man defense. Our kids bought into the concept. They did not like being thought of as the “Little Sisters of the Poor” either. (translation: synonym for cupcake)

Not only did we play defense well; during the early 80’s no other team in our division played man, so they were not practicing how to overcome this particular brand of defense. Our edge and a source of pride was defense. Talented squads who averaged 70 plus points a night, struggled to break 50 against us. Sounds great, but we also struggled to score; even against the girl’s team, we couldn’t break 50. Consequently, we felt better about ourselves but still lost more than we won.

Modifying our philosophy resulted in a district championship and over 100 wins to only about 20 losses. We were still tough defensively, but we also learned to put the ball in the hoop. (Not to mention, that we had a few athletes who actually had skills, speed and the ability to dunk. Translation: good stuff)

Now what can all this possibly have to do with a post-charismatic emerging fellow? Let me introduce myself; I began going to church nine-months before I was born. I knew all the stories, memorized large portions of scripture, and understood basic theological terms and concepts; even delivered a few sermons – all before puberty. Scripture was paramount and only Jesus came in a close second. Miracles? Healings? Sure God could, I knew all the omni’s; but he didn’t any more; we had the complete canon. There was no need for anything more.

Holy Spirit, yea, had all the stats; fully God, part of the Trinity, part of what the Pastor said at Baptisms and our quarterly Communion service. Gifts, no, did not know about that, and tongues, oh, no, not that!

I was part of a “defensive” minded team, uh, I mean church. We defended the faith. We were the defenders of the faith. In fact, our defense was offensive. To use another basketball cliché: “Offense wins games, but DEFENSE wins championships.” And we were out to win the greatest championship of all time: souls. I recall that the theological cliché I was brought up on was “rightly dividing the word of truth”. There was none of that emotional, experiential “offense” for us, no sir.

My apologetics were tough and agile as a full court press. (translation: defense on steroids) During the many years of basketball defeats, I took comfort in “moral victories”. Very much like in the church and Bible College I attended. We were suffering for Jesus, as we and we alone, were defenders of the truth. My wide-margined Schofield Bible was thoroughly underlined and cross-referenced to handle any argument, cowering pagans and C&E Christians alike. (translation: C&E: Christmas and Easter only)

Offensive basketball is fun. It’s fun to shoot; even more if the ball goes in the hole. How many kids have you seen in a driveway practicing defensive slides, getting over picks, boxing out and practicing taking a charge? (Translation: Just some basketball stuff you won’t see unless a coach is there to require it.) On the contraire, kids are practicing the “J”, dunking or lowering the hoop so they can. Fancy dribbling and sleek passing is all the rage. It’s hip, cool and simply more fun.

Going down to the river and meeting the Holy Ghost bartender is also fun. But it’s not either/or; how about a little of both/and. During my coaching tenure, we usually met a team or two that was only offensively minded. Their defense was “matador” style. (Their defense consisted of waving at you as they stepped aside, for those who are not ESPN addicts.) They could care less if you scored; they just wanted the ball back. So what if we scored 90; they scored 110. All would go great for the offense-only-team until tournament time, when a balanced team who could score and play defense sent them home to await next season.

The bottom line is this. In basketball both offense and defense are necessary. Some players are better at scoring, ball handling, passing; and others excel at rebounding, shot blocking and cutting off the baseline. There are players who thrive on the defensive aspects, others on scoring, but all must play both ends of the court in sync and harmony with their teammates. Sounds a little like what Paul had to say about the body of Christ in I Corinthians 12.

With honor and respect to God-fearing and God-loving teachers, pastors, and fellow travelers who hold doctrine, scripture and faith alone central, please understand, I value your care, concern and your pouring into my life the love of God’s word. My faith in Jesus Christ came through your ministering. All the same, I’m reminded of a player who won’t shoot, doesn’t want to shoot, really does not even want the ball. As a coach, when I spotted you, we would leave you unguarded, sort of watch you with one eye, and double down on the star. We upset many better squads employing this technique. Perhaps that is part of the reason the new generation avoids your places of worship. You’re playing only on one end of the court. You seem content just to defend the faith. Would anyone play or much less watch if the teams never shot at all, even denying there was a basket?

And now with apology to my spirit-led, wading in the river, glory-cloud, gold tooth filled, oil dripping from their palms, friends. It’s time to “D-up” or in non-basketball lingo: scripture is profitable, all scripture, rightly divide it. Ok, so who are you in my basketball heaven analogy? Try “and1” (translation: street ball, high-flying and high-fiving with a DJ and a lot of bass; extremely experiential always looking for the new moves)

Consider this description of streetball from Wikipedia:

While the rules of Streetball are essentially/theoretically the same as normal basketball, Streetball places a higher emphasis on one-on-one matchups between the offense and defender. Often the attacker will perform numerous flashy moves while attempting to drive to the basket, including crossovers, jab steps, and other fake-out tricks. Streetball often features spectacular dunks and alley oops, impressive ball handling, and trash talking. Also featured in streetball are moves. A move is either used to trick the defender to look away, or just to confuse. There are many different moves in the streetball world. Rules vary widely from court to court. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Streetball)

Substitute a few words with pastor or worship leader and change the basketball terms to current church jargon and I see an apt description of the hype and charismania many are also rejecting.

Returning to basketolgy, let’s play both ends of the court. Our choice is not between “full-court press and run and gun” (translation: “run and gun” being only offensive minded, score as quickly as possible) You don’t choose whichever The Word or the Spirit; it is not either/or but both/and.

Currently my own journey and those with whom I am in community with are “practicing” how to play on both ends of the court. The game of basketball is enjoyed by many because it is fluid and equally mixes offense and defense and everyone gets to participate. My community is attempting to develop the same fluid motion and integration between the love and knowledge of God’s word mixed with the joy of the Spirit of God as a basketball coach stresses “transition” by his team. (last translation: “transition” the change between offense to defense or defense to offense; when it is seamless and apparently immediate there is great success on the court)

An "and1" video for those who are unfamiliar with the culture:

Message from Bob Dylan

Imagine walking into your local library, planning to read a theologian such as Reinhold Niebuhr or Karl Barth – or even a best-seller by Jim Wallis or James Dobson.

But instead of finding such important and popular titles, you discover that the religion section has been decimated – stripped of any book that did not appear on a government-approved list.
That's exactly what's happening right now to inmates in federal prisons under a Bush administration policy. As The New York Times put it, "chaplains have been quietly carrying out a systematic purge of religious books and materials that were once available to prisoners in chapel libraries."

The news reports seem implausible. The idea of government bureaucrats drafting a list of approved books on religion seems like something out of Soviet-era Russia, not the United States of America, where freedom of religion – even for those behind prison walls – is something we treasure.

But the reports are true. All of the books and authors named above have been removed from prison libraries. In some instances, according to the Times, chaplains have been forced to dismantle "libraries that had thousands of texts collected over decades, bought by the prisons, or donated by churches and religious groups."

To make matters worse, the contents of the "approved" list are extremely capricious. For example, "80 of the 120 titles on the list for Judaism are from the same Orthodox publishing house," and the list for Christianity "lack[s] materials from early church fathers, liberal theologians and major Protestant denominations."

The Bureau of Prisons says they merely want to ensure prisons are not recruiting grounds for terrorists and other militant groups. So why are they removing the vast majority of materials on faith and religion? And if prisoners are not free to pursue their own faith journeys, what cause for hope should they have?

Christians from across the political and theological spectrum are justifiably outraged. As Mark Earley, president and chief executive officer of Chuck Colson's Prison Fellowship, told the Times, "It's swatting a fly with a sledgehammer. There's no need to get rid of literally hundreds of thousands of books that are fine simply because you have a problem with an isolated book or piece of literature that presents extremism."

Stand up for inmates' religious freedom – demand an end to censorship in prison libraries!

Want to do something?

Click here to tell the Bureau of Prisons to stop censoring prison libraries.

The above report is from Sojourners

Sources:

"Prisons Purging Books on Faith From Libraries," New York Times, 9/10/07.

"2 New York prisoners sue to get their banned religious books back," Associated Press, 8/22/07.

Thoughts on Prayer

Three minutes left in the fourth quarter, a 12 point lead has shrunk to 6. Fatigue is setting in as confidence leaks out.

“Time-out!”

I haven’t watched ESPN in vain; I know when to stop the bleeding. Dickie V. would approve.

The players hustle to the sideline, frustration evident in their posture and countenance. They each take a seat while teammates get water and towels and form a shell separating us from the court and bedlam erupting in the gym applauding the home team’s comeback.

Now what should happen is that five sets of eyes focus on mine as I renew confidence, infuse courage, and give instruction.

Instead the players talk, accuse, blame, justify and in a word: blather.
At times like this I have learned to become silent – adding my voice to the din would only add to the disorder.

Sometimes my silence is realized – perhaps felt – and the players become silent. Though I feel a strong compulsion to speak rapidly both to scold and quickly instruct and save the day; I have learned from hard lessons to remain quiet. Even after they settle down. Five seconds become ten, an enormous sacrifice in a time-out period strictly limited to 60 seconds. Leaving me only time for a single sentence; perhaps only an encouragement, I might simply say, “We are all-right, play our game, Defense!”

Reminds me of my prayers, I am full of words, blame, excuses.
“Do something God, aren’t you in charge!” As I continue to blather on and on doing all the talking – accusing, blaming, justifying – at the end comes my “amen” like the officials whistle and command of “Get them out here, coach”. Maybe God like a seasoned coach is silent, awaiting my attentiveness. Perhaps I should seek his eye rather than the sound of my own voice. Is God’s silence simply his awaiting my listening, my attentiveness?

I have recently been considering the following description of prayer:

Prayer is to listen attentively
to the One
who addresses us
in the here and now.

Making the Invisible Visible

“A magician makes the visible invisible.
A mime makes the invisible visible.”

Marcel Marceau, the master of mime who transformed silence into poetry with lithe gestures and pliant facial expressions that spoke to generations of young and old, has died. He was 84.
Wearing white face paint, soft shoes and a battered hat topped with a red flower, Marceau breathed new life into an art that dates to ancient Greece. He played out the human comedy through his alter-ego Bip without ever uttering a word.
Offstage, he was famously chatty. "Never get a mime talking. He won't stop," he once said.
A French Jew, Marceau escaped deportation to a Nazi death camp during World War II, unlike his father who died in Auschwitz. Marceau worked with the French Resistance to protect Jewish children, and later used the memories of his own life to feed his art.

Talk Like a Pirate

News you can use: today is International Talk Like a Pirate Day. According to the Daily Telegraph, you must:

Growl - and scowl often. Pirates don't use a cultured, elegant, smooth vocalization - they mutter and growl.

Gesture with your hands frequently. Don't forget that pirates do most of their talking on the deck of a ship - out on the ocean, where wind, waves, and bird calls make it tough to hear. Gesturing often gives you a sense of "being there."

Run words together. Saying, "The boys and I were out for a lovely day on the water today" sounds like something you'd overhear at a yacht club. Instead, try, "Me'n'these here scurvy scallywags drug our sorry keesters out t'th'ship'n'had us a grand great adventuaaarrr! We almost had t'keelhaul Mad Connie f'r gettin inter th' grog behind our backs!" Note that you should always endeavour to call the addressee by some insulting name, usually involving an animal. "Yer a scurvy bilge rat, ya pompous gasbag" or "Here's yer dinner, ya mangy cockroach."

Prayer

May there be peace within you today.
May you trust God that you are exactly
where you are meant to be.
May you not forget the infinite possibilities
that are born of faith.
May you use those gifts that you have received,
and pass on the love that has been given to you.
May you be content knowing
you are a child of God.
Let His presence settle into your bones,
and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance,
and to bask in the sun.

I Was a Teenage Sadducee

Yes, the title is a little cheesy, ok, a lot cheesy, and presently I will get to the how and why but first some historical perspective.

The Sadducees, mentioned in the gospels, were regarded the smallest by some historians of five social groups in Palestine during the early first century. The Pharisees, Zealots, Essenes, and Gentiles/Pagans make up the other divisions. Though small in number, they were the real power in the region. (If one does not consider how they were under the thumb and discretion of the Roman occupation.) The Sadducees controlled the Temple – the place of worship. Additionally 60 plus seats of the 70 member Sanhedrin legislative court were controlled by the Sadducees. Thus, they had both the political and religious systems under their authority and control.

Today they would be considered conservative in their politics, religion, and manner of life. They took the Torah literally, “if it was good enough for Moses” might have been the response to those who brought in the Psalms or Prophets. They believed that God had not revealed himself in any writings after Moses. They certainly did not accept the oral traditions of their rival Pharisees.


The strictness of their faith did not necessarily carry over to daily life; for the Sadducees were Hellenistic. They had accepted the Greek way of life with its emphases on the physical and intellect. An extra-Biblical account relates that once the Temple could not be opened for evening prayers due to the priest and workers all being at the gymnasium watching the wrestling matches. There world-view was certainly more Greek than Hebrew. Finally they were more prosperous by rule and used their position in society to curry favor from the occupying Romans.

Growing up in a some what fundamentalist church, I became fluent in most Bible stories and dispensational doctrines, by Jr. High, due to a well-organized and structured Sunday school and Jr. Church program. The church was fairly large, I suppose, for the early 60’s as we had two classes for each grade level, divided boys and girls. The dozen or so fellows in my class had been together since diapers.

Occasionally we would have a substitute teacher, obliviously pulled at the last minute from an adult Bible class. By Jr. High we had several well-developed routines for these well-meaning but unprepared sacrificial lambs…er…I mean volunteers.

The Sunday school superintendent must have had a standard pitch on what to teach while walking the “fresh-meat” down the corridor to our classroom. “Just ask them who or what their favorite Bible story or character is and go from there.” Since they all began that way, we knew our parts perfectly. Though we would improvise with each new encounter, the pattern was the same.

After hearing the usual and expected: Moses, David and Goliath, Noah and the flood, the feeding of the Five Thousand, either I or my pal David would say our favorite was either the Philistines or the Sadducees depending whether we wanted to go New or Old Testament. Subtly we would hook the teacher and reel him in. Of course, they simply wanted to get through the hour and also be a nice guy and that added to the tangled mess we could create.


We actually knew a little about either group – definitely more than any adult who had been conned or guilt-tripped into having a go with us.
As mentioned above, the Sadducees, as the ruling elite of society, the Temple and Sanhedrin held both religious power and political control in their hands. They had deftly separated the religious duty from every day activities. The Sadducees in practice did not let their religion interfere with the important stuff – like making money, gaining popularity, and controlling others.

Yes, I need someday to repent from my pleasure of tying the tongues of our substitutes as we became excited to also exert power over the congregation, have wealth, and find favor with political leaders just like the leaders of our church. We knew enough and were smooth enough of speech to twist scripture and make the Sadducees ones to be followed.

But more importantly is the repentance for also separating my life into compartments isolating my walk of faith from my interactions with those I rubbed shoulders with every day. Little did I realize that I was doing that in High School (and through most of my adult life). What we had said in juvenile jest had become the reality of my life. At school I was just a good kid who never got into trouble but a little like Ferris Buller knew and for a price could arrange things for you..

Two days prior to graduation from High School our schools tradition was to have a catered dinner for all of the seniors. No underclassmen or alumni were allowed. Additionally, the custom was upheld for that one evening that couples did not relate in that exclusive manner typically of High School. On this one amazing night social walls came down and everyone and anyone talked and hung out. It was surreal, almost mystical. Later that evening, after the meal, I found myself at a home with 20 or so of my classmates, none whom I had ever really hung-out with before.

Sitting in an alcove, away from the party, five fellows engaged in conversation. Two I sot of knew since we had been school friends back in seventh grade, and the other two I had had classes with during the three high school years and had “helped” with various school matters. Joe, who was literally “the big-man on campus”, began to tell us how he had come to know Jesus Christ as his personal savior two weeks before at some youth revival.

He was excited to be sharing with us his new faith and wanted us to know Jesus also. And to my surprise the fellow next to me said he was also a Christian and regularly went to a particular Baptist Church. I still remember the look on Joe’s face, something between surprise and disappointment. Well to bring the story to a close, each of us in turn admitted we knew Jesus and were involved in various youth groups. Not only involved, but each of us was considered a leader. Our conversations lead us to apologize to Joe and later to each other as we realized that we had missed the opportunity to live in community with each other as Christian brothers.

A few days, Eric my personal trainer – or construction boss - asked me if I knew what a Haiku was. After giving a definition, and a few jokes, I suggested we only speak in haiku to each other. I basically accomplished that. As written before it helped me achieve a particular goal in life, presently.
But it also reminded me of this quote by Matsuo Bashō

Matsuo Bashō 1644 –1694 was the most famous poet of the Edo period in Japan. During his lifetime, Bashō was renowned for his works in the collaborative haikai no renga form; today, he is recognized as a master of brief and clear haiku.

Do not seek
to follow
in the footsteps
of the men of old;
seek
what they sought.

Almost Cut My Hair

Almost cut my hair
It happened just the other day
It's gettin kinda long
I coulda said it wasn't in my way
But I didn't and I wonder why
I feel like letting my freak flag fly
Cause I feel like I owe it to someone

David Crosby Almost Cut My Hair

Humility

tiptoed, reaching
striving for the hidden
straining, jumping
for the higher shelf

found a stool
brought a ladder
hidden just out of reach
the object I desire

a slip, a tumble
quite a fall
down on my back
looking at the bottom sill

What I sought
What I seek
always accessible
On the bottom ledge


Humble yourselves therefore
under the mighty hand of God,
that he may exalt you in due time;
1 Peter 5:6 (ASV)