“When Jesus saw the crowds, he had compassion for them”

–Matthew 9:36a  

As many readers of this blog know, I’m a life-long fan of the Atlanta Braves. My family of origin lived in metro Atlanta when that baseball team moved there in 1966 and we went to the very first game. That loyalty–some might say obsession–endures despite having served two pastorates near other National League teams..

What is mostly only known by my family, though, is that the team’s performance is still the most consistent thing that can bring out the 12 year-old in me. I say that with apologies to 12 year olds!  I will watch part of almost every game, yet if something goes wrong for my team, I have been known to turn off the tv in disgust and start muttering–or worse. After one distressing playoff game years ago I went for a run at 11 p.m. because I was too agitated to go to sleep. The worst came when my Braves lost the 1996 World Series to the Yankees despite having led 2-0 in the best of seven matchup. I was visiting my in-laws in Phoenix when that Series concluded and the next day flew back to North Carolina, still disgusted by the game’s outcome.  

In those days, anyone could go to the gate when a loved one arrived. My return flight required a change at the Atlanta airport and as I walked towards my connecting gate I saw this boy wearing a Braves shirt run past me. He was carrying a poster that read “We love you, Braves!” I thought that was odd and didn’t realize what was going on until a man walking from the other direction said to the boy “You better hurry. Their plane just landed.” Knowing what that meant, I began to follow the child–and his father–arriving at the gate just as the team walked out.  Fans were standing five rows deep and I joined in the clapping and cheers and tomahawk chops. 

I had never seen players in street clothes before and as they walked toward the team bus something happened. For instead of seeing ballplayers who had let me down, I saw a group of dejected men with disappointment written all over. I saw the man who dropped the fly ball and the one who gave up the decisive home run. I saw the manager who had made decisions that had back-fired. Yet instead of being upset, I cheered all the more. Seeing them in everyday clothes reminded me they were men who happened to be ballplayers and whose sense of loss was far greater than mine. I knew that, of course, before standing at Gate 24 of the B Terminal one October day in 1996. Yet seeing that downtrodden group reminded me of their humanity anew.  So as I began to walk toward my gate, the 12 year-old within was filled with compassion.

Matthew says that was the demeanor of Jesus upon seeing others in all their humanity, too. Read the ninth chapter of that gospel and you find a litany of human struggles–physical limitations and prejudice, illness and the death of loved ones. The gospel writer tells us that “When he saw the crowds, Jesus had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd.”  

Most of us–this blogger included–don’t always view others in that way. Instead, we can focus on how the other has disappointed us or misused our trust. We can think first of how many chances they have been given, of the opportunities they have wasted, or of the bad choices they have made. Our reactions in such occasions and others may be justified, yet Jesus chose to embody and offer compassion.  

Sounds like the best approach for us, too, on and off the baseball diamond.

Lord of all, how blessed we are by your compassion.  Help us to share that same gift with all whom we meet this day.  Amen.