Sometimes our personal philosophies are hard to describe. Even though we may not have the words to articulate what we believe, the way we behave and the way we move communicates for us. This week I had an opportunity to watch a philosophy in motion. What was the motion? Softball. What was the philosophy? Nihilism. What was the team? The Nihilists. I could not make this up if I tried :)
The Nihilists, literally those who believe in nothing, were playing softball. As I scanned over their bench I noted a few physical differences between their team and the others we had played. For starters, none of them were big, either muscularly or obesely. They were smaller framed and didn't look like fantastic ball players. They appeared quite ordinary, except that they all appeared that way, which isn't normal. Usually there are a couple of bigger guys on each team, girth or muscle combined. That's because softball players and alcohol go hand in hand; its part of the postgame culture, or pre-game and in-game if you're playing in the right league. So observing a team without a single beer gut was unique. And it wasn't by accident that they all appeared this way.
The Nihilists have a very simple batting strategy: hit left, run like you've got nothing to lose. It's not that one or two players were hitting left in one or two innings, but they all hit left, ALL of the time. Hitting left gives you the most time to run to first base, and if you have fast runners, and the Nihilist are fast, it lets you take extra bases while the other team runs down the ball. So the Nihilists hit left, run like crazy AND they get away with it, because in the few extra seconds it takes someone to chase down a ball, the Nihilists run. They don't play cautiously. They've got nothing to lose.
Eventually the Nihilists get out, and have to take the field. They've got decent pitching, but their outfield is really fast. What would be a two base hit often becomes a single, because the Nihilist are just that good at chasing down a bouncing ball. And if you hit the ball up in the air? You're out. They'll get under it, catch it and then try and catch any runners who aren't paying attention. They're usually not in the field for a very long period of time. They maximize their speed and cut down the time the ball is in play. They make the most of every second.
So what do I have to say about Nihilism as a philosophy? Whatever a Nihilist does, they do fast. They play hard, take risks and make the most of every second, because they've got nothing to lose. They're strategic in their approach. They take care of their bodies. They don't feel guilty about winning, but they don't really celebrate winning either. They expect to win. And with their philosophy at play in softball, it doesn't surprise me that they do. They play hard, and trust in their strategies and work ethic to accomplish their task-at-hand. They don't pray to a god to do something they could do themselves. Simply put, they don't pray.
As you can tell, there's something I find very attractive about the way the Nihilists play ball. I love their team unity, the like-mindedness, the simple strategy and the work ethic. Watching the Nihilists play I could tell they'd played many games together. They weren't a hodge-podge team; they were united. They also wore matching baby blue uniforms that said "Nihilists" in light yellow across the front of their classic looking jerseys. They also had matching hats with an "N" just above the bill. Yup, they looked super cool, played really well and pretty much destroyed the teams they were playing. It's a good thing we were only playing softball :)
As I look at the players who form that team, I wonder about their personal lives. With so much focus on what this life has to offer, and what can be achieved in this life, do they even think about the next? My quick answer is no, because Nihilists believe in nothing. They probably use the time they could to think about the future to focus on the present. Which is fine, until a team comes along and out plays them. Which, as we know in sports, will one day happen. I wonder what will happen to their confidence? Their assumption of winning? What happens when the staples that hold their team together unravel? And what happens when their efforts to rebuild meet with failure? What then? The only natural conclusion is quite depressing, they simply aren't good enough and never will be.
That dismal future may be a few decades off, but what of the present? What do they see when they face other teams? For starters, I can't remember hearing the Nihilists swear. So they might look at other teams as weak and negative minded when they curse all the time. Physically, their team is more fit than the other teams, so they might look at other teams as drunkards, slow runners and disdain them for their lack of bodily care. And finally, when other teams offer up the Hail Marys? They might just think that team is ridiculous because they don't have the gumption to work for what they want, but instead dream about it and pray to a god who isn't going to help them, when they could help themselves. Prayer doesn't make better softball players, but practice does.
Conversely, prayer doesn't make better Christians, but practice does. Prayer is part of the practice of a Christian, but it's not the wishing-for-something-good-to-happen-prayers that change the world. Those prayers often make Christians look silly. The Christian who prays, but never plays is an empty conundrum. Sadly, that is the state of many Christians today. We think a few words or moments of silence is enough to make things better. We don't sweat to make our faith functional, let alone bleed to give it life. When I consider the life of Jesus, he prayed privately and acted publicly. We have more records of his actions than of his prayers, yet we know that Jesus' life was punctuated by private moments of solitude before God. In our time, Christians pray publically and act privately. We're more vocal through our prayers; we take greater effort to be known by the words we say, than we are by our actions. Jesus was not a pray-er and a say-er, he was a pray-er and a do-er.
In Jesus final prayer for his disciples, as recorded by John, Jesus prays for those "who will believe in me through their message," That Greek word message is logos. In the opening of John's gospel, he writes about the logos, which is translated as word: "The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us." Christianity is not supposed to be defined by its spoken words, but by the incarnation of the Word in us. It's not simply about saying the right things, but about living and doing as the Word, Jesus, did. Christianity apart from the power of living like Jesus is powerless, and this powerless Christianity is what the world thinks is ridiculous.
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