Spirit Scholars

Can Everyone Shoot Par in Heaven? ..... And Other Urgent Spiritual Questions

One spring afternoon, a pastor of a busy church is so eager to get out onto the golf course that he calls in sick and tells his secretary to cancel all his appointments, including the trustees meeting he's been dreading that evening. To make sure he doesn't get caught, he drives more than an hour to another city and gives a fake name at the golf course.

As it happens, though, St. Peter is looking down at that very moment, sees what's happening and asks God, "Are You going to let him get away with this?"

God sighs. "No. I'll take care of it."

Immediately, the pastor gets a hole in one!

St. Peter is shocked. He says to God, "Hey, that's a 547-yard hole in one! What are You thinking?!"

God smiles. "So, who's he going to tell?"

Who among us hasn't chuckled at a good God-n-Golf story over the years? But, THIS is ridiculous! This spring, it looks like there's a serious cultural wave building to proclaim golf the Divine Sport.

Have you caught Alice Cooper's new book, "Golf Monster," about how -- after all those crazy years of sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll, he's finally found his true vocation and it is: Golf! No kidding. If you spot his new book displayed in stores this week, the blood dripping from his golf club on the front cover suggests this memoir is an acid-laced spoof from the master of shock-schlock. But, no! Flip open the book to the photo insert and there's a color snapshot of Alice proudly posing in neatly pressed golfing togs, while playing a round with his hero, Arnold Palmer. His memoir doesn't claim to be "spiritual," but it clearly is intended as "inspirational." More importantly, it's part of a cultural wave that's pushing golf as the Ultimate sport -- almost as if director Ingmar Bergman really should have designed "The Seventh Seal" so that, in its climactic scene, the Grim Reaper would challenge the weary knight to 18 holes.

It's not just Alice. It's the accumulation of pitches ... er, swings this spring.

For instance, this month, novelist Roland Merullo's "Golfing with God" is released in trade paperback. This 300-page tale is the ultimate golfing conceit: When golf pro Herman Fins-Winston dies and winds up in heaven, he is thrilled to discover that golf is God's game. In fact, Merullo argues, God is too busy for any other sport. The Almighty can't be bothered to bowl, figure skate, throw darts, play Ping-Pong -- or even to watch TV. But golf? God LOVES golf.

Given all the golfing greats already up in heaven, it's a little puzzling to discern why God would waste time on the links with the likes of Herman, a nice guy but definitely a C-list golf pro even in his prime. Nevertheless, God materializes in a whole host of forms -- from Christ to Buddha to Moses to a rather ditzy Goddess -- and, chapter after chapter, descends to the earth with Herman to play various rounds of golf.

The result is pretty much one loooong Golf-n-God joke after another. In one loooong chapter, for instance, God is down on earth in the ditzy Goddess form with Herman when a sharp young golfer spots what looks like a couple of easy marks -- and decides to hustle the couple with a high-stakes bet. Of course, God-Goddess agrees and teaches the young guy a few clever lessons before the chapter ends.

And, that's not all!

Merullo's novel can't hold a candle to the cosmic claims of "The Golfer's Bible." Yes, as in, THE Bible, bound in simulated leather with gold-edged pages and a ribbon bookmark to remember your favorite passage.

Once inside the box (that's the cover of the box pictured here), the simulated leather cover is embossed with a golden golf ball and two clubs. Then, before Genesis, instead of a page to record family births and deaths -- there's a page to record your greatest golf scores of all time. Perhaps St. Peter will ask to see this when you finally approach the Pearly Gates?

And THEN -- inserted throughout the Bible are colorful pages with inspirational readings that use golf as a metaphor for the Christian life. Quotes from Bobby Jones seem especially popular in these little sermonettes, but lots of other golf saints are quoted as well.

For instance, Byron Nelson is quoted: "One of the most important -- and often overlooked -- factors in making a good golf swing is visualizing your target beforehand." Then, the spiritual "Swing Thought" for us to carry away from that lesson is: "Visualizing the target is important in golf and life."

Pretty much, the theology here amounts to a claim that the Purpose of Life is to Win -- and to feel spiritually satisfied as we reach that goal. There's nothing we could find about such non-golfing pursuits as, for instance, feeding the hungry, clothing the naked or welcoming the stranger.

But, woah! We're getting far too serious about spirituality here. Let's chill. Or, as the Golfer's Bible says in another of its spiritual Swing Thoughts: "Slow down and feel the touch of the Master's hand on your life ..."

So, one more story before we go:

One day, the Pope and the prime minister of Israel decide that to help improve interfaith relations, they should stage a friendly international golf match -- but, of course, the Vatican staff immediately advises the pope that Catholics around the world would be embarassed if they didn't at least make it an interesting contest. The Pope should designate a player, they tell him. In fact, one aide says, "Your Holiness, I happen to know that Jack Nicklaus is a devout Catholic. Why don't you make him a cardinal, send him to play and we'll win the match!"

The Pope agrees. Jack Nicklaus agrees. The game is played in Scotland -- and Nicklaus immediately calls the Vatican after the 18th hole. Nicklaus says, "Well, I have some good news and I have some bad news, Holy Father."

"Tell me the good news first, Cardinal Nicklaus," the Pope says.

"Well, Holy Father, I don't want to brag, but even though I've played some pretty terrific rounds of golf in my life, I just playing the best I've ever played! I was inspired! My drives were long and true, my irons were accurate and purposeful and my putting was perfect. With all due respect, Holy Father, my play was miraculous."

"And there is bad news, my son?" the Pope asks.

"Yes," Nicklaus sighed. "I lost to Rabbi Tiger Woods by three strokes!"

Shuffling Along: Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?

Like a flash, it came to us! The truly Burning Spiritual Question of Our Time (meaning This Fleeting Moment in Autumn 2006): Does anyone play Shuffleboard anymore? Or, let's put that question another way: If we suddenly felt moved to reconnect with our Baby Boomer childhood in the Rec Rooms of the 1950s and 1960s, is there anywhere we can go to play a few games?

Now, before you Comment or Email, complaining that we at Spirit Scholars simply don't know what we're talking about: Sure, we know there are fancy-schmancy table-style games in many bars and clubs now that call themselves something like Shuffle-This or Shuffle-That or have exotic European names like Sjoelbak. NO! We're talking here about the actual Shuffleboard that came across the Atlantic Ocean from Britain on the decks of ocean liners a century or so ago -- and that happy suburban families in the 1950s laid into the colorful tile floors of their Rec Rooms?

In point of fact, we mean the Shuffleboard that actor, director and all-around Hollywood Wild Man Dennis Hopper is currently assuring Baby Boomers that they definitely DO NOT want to play in retirement. We mean that Shuffleboard!

Have you caught Hopper on TV? While watching the recent World Series, we caught him a half dozen times. The first time, he came on the screen while our 17-year-old son, who actually has seen "Easy Rider" on DVD, was sitting there watching the screen, too. But, as Hopper stepped up out of a bright red chair and began talking to us from the TV screen -- no lights came on in the lad's glazed eyes. And so, we asked: "Hey, do you know who this guy is -- or was?"

A blank look showed that he did not.

"That's Dennis Hopper! That's the guy with the floppy hat in 'Easy Rider'!"

Now the blank look slid into a puzzled tilt of the forehead. "Really? Are you sure?"

Yep, we're as sure as -- what? -- death and taxes, isn't that how that phrase goes? Dennis Hopper has become a pitchman for Ameriprise Financial, Inc., NYSE: AMP. He appears in TV ads placed mainly in sports programs, sitting in various natural locations on a 1960s-era red chair -- trying to evoke Baby Boomer nostalgia, yet at the same time, prompt Baby Boomers to worry enough about the future to start making some serious financial plans.

In one of the ads, he tries to conjure up all the fears that Baby Boomers might have about old age and death by half threatening and half joshing in this way: "You don't want to play Shuffleboard, do you?"

You may think we are kidding about all of this here at Spirit Scholars. We are most definitely not.

Here's part of the text of the actual corporate press release about the development of these ads for the financial-services firm: "The ads are set in a variety of locations including a beach, salt flats and field of wildflowers that convey the serenity many Boomers hope to achieve in retirement. Sitting within these tranquil settings on a 1960s-style red chair is Hopper. ... We are firmly focused on the positive aspects of retirement and our understanding that Boomers aren't going to spend this phase of life playing Shuffleboard. There is no better figure to personify our message than legendary actor Dennis Hopper who embodies the spirit of the generation. With his help we are speaking with Boomers not at them. In the broadcast ads, Hopper adopts a conversational style. In one version he asks: "You still have things to do, right? You have dreams. And there is no age limit on dreams." In another version he reminds Boomers that "the thing about dreams is – they don't retire."

Now, you may think we're getting overly obsessed with little details here at Spirit Scholars. This business of the Red Chair? Think we're kidding? Well, sadly, we are NOT. The chair was carefully chosen and -- according to the designers of this ad campaign -- it is freighted with enormous meaning. Again, from the same actual corporate press release, explaining the strategic choice of a nostalgic chair: "This red chair, used in both broadcast and print ads, symbolizes the launching pad for Boomers' retirement dreams. It is -- An Anti-Rocking Chair."

OK -- so this is clearly one confused mess of cultural markers heaped upon us -- but, what truly set our Spirit Scholars Seismograph into the red zone was that mess of cultural references -- coupled with an essay that starts on Page 11 of Sunday's New York Times Magazine, by Christopher Caldwell, headlined "Geezery Rider: Why is a symbol of youth and rebellion having a senior moment?"

To anyone truly studying the cultural landscape in recent years, there was no great news in Caldwell's piece -- except that he brings us up to date on this popular question: So, Just How Old ARE Those Pesky Harley Davidson Rebels These Days? Are you ready? Bracing yourself? The average motorcycle owner now is over 40 -- and, Caldwell reports, "not even 4 percent of bikers are under 18."

OK -- then, flip to the end of Caldwell's piece and there's this true glimmer of wisdom: "All advertising and classic-rock lyrics to the contrary, there is nothing 'youthful' about motorcycles, only about motorcyclists at certain times and places. The idea that products embody certain spiritual properties is probably a sociological mirage of the Baby Boom."

Did you catch the significance of that? Here is the bitter irony of our Baby Boom generation: We, who have never been afraid to raise our voices, who have served as America's balladiers, who have recast the very syllables of American cultural language from our molten yearnings -- have no language ready to talk about the last great chapter in our epic tale: Aging. We've clung to youth so vigorously -- selling the commodity back and forth to ourselves so successfully -- that we're left in our aging years with our greatest cultural gift -- the ability to talk, sing and scream honestly about what is happening to us -- trickling away between our fingers.

We've written a number of articles already in Spirit Scholars about Aging. Click on the Category at left or use our new Search box to read the others.

But, please -- Let's start by admitting that the search for spiritual understanding about aging is a crying need in our culture. And, let's start by cleaning up this most recent mess, shall we?

First, we've already said: Please, no more jokes about Shuffleboard! The cultural reference is confusing, at best. We're not terrified of it. We can barely remember it. And, if we can, it's only a vaguely nostalgic memory of a Rec Room floor.

And, second, Dennis Hopper is not a Baby Boomer! He was born May 17, 1936. He just LOOKED young in "Easy Rider." He was 33 at the time of its release! We should never have trusted the guy in the first place.

And, third, let's not allow anyone to redefine red chairs as "Anti-Rocking Chairs." That sounds like an idea conceived by some sniveling Gen-Y'er who's only working at an ad agency until he can move to Hollywood and direct gross-out comedies. The young guy who thought up this pitch probably can barely spell Shuffleboard, let alone calculate the proper vintage of his TV pitchman. C'mon, let's get a little revved up about this!

Frankly, we need to defend every inch of our cultural heritage, don't we? And, there's a long, proud heritage of red furniture in America. Heck, some enterprising high school or college student could write a terrific research paper on the phenomenology of red furniture. One could go back to Edward Hopper's famous red chair in his iconic painting of a New York City apartment -- to the group of writers and artists who hauled a Red Couch around the world in the 1980s -- to the Blogosphere gurus who are working on some kind of crazy Red Couch plan at the moment to create an online book manuscript. And this is truly puzzling: The Red Chair, at this moment, is associated both with Flamenco and neo-traditional Irish music!

One thing is certain (and here's the point of this part of our little screed): We are too restless and creative as Baby Boomers to sit still and let some advertising copywriter who's barely heard of Woody Allen and who thinks that Bob Dylan is a cool old geezer to jump in front of our cultural workbench and steal the metaphor of red furniture -- much less deconstruct it into a pitiful fear of aging: an Anti-Rocking Chair. We say: Bah!

And, do we really need more stories about the aging of motorcycle riders? We've been reading essentially that same news story for nearly a decade now. Perhaps, we could dispense with the more ponderous reporting and proudly accept the aging process. You know? Rather than more of these somber essays -- how about developing a tasteful, cheery little graphic device (with a Harley logo and an upwardly climbing median age) that would appear in the corner of page 3 in each issue of Modern Maturity? We say: Let's admit we're aging and just enjoy some aspects of this inevitable process! If some of us want to fire up loud bikes and roar around North America's back roads -- well, then, who cares what the youngsters are doing these days? Let's decide not to go quietly into this particular Good Night.

What else is there to say?

That truly is the question, you know: What else is there to say?

Help us, please, to start filling in the blanks. Where is our spiritual language for aging in this new age? If you feel so moved, post a Comment here, or send an Email to dcrumm@freepress.com with your thoughts. What else have you got to do? Daydream about the patterns in your Dad's Rec Room floor?

Remembering One of Baseball's Nobler Lessons in Diversity

If you're reading this in Michigan, you're probably cheering the Detroit Tigers. Hey, it feels great when an entire community can pull together for a single cause, doesn't it?

  Well, that was until Monday morning, when the Ilitch crew blew it on the diversity front. Apparently, it never occurred to the bosses of baseball in Detroit that 10 a.m. Monday was a terrible time to release the latest wave of thousands of playoff tickets for sale to eager fans.

From sunset Sunday to sunset Monday was Yom Kippur, the most sacred day in Judaism and a time of fasting and reflection. On Monday, even the U.S. Supreme Court in Washington D.C. declined to hear oral arguments, despite the fact that this was the famous "first Monday in October," the traditional opening day of the court's new session.

One Jewish Tigers fan who called the Detroit Free Press late on Monday  complained, "Doesn't anybody remember Hank Greenberg?" (That's Hank and his sister, Lillian Golson, in 1934 in the photo above at left.)

"Hammerin' Hank" was a Detroit Tiger and a barrier breaker as pro baseball's first Jewish superstar. As the Jewish Virtual Library tells the story on its Web site:

In 1934, led by Greenberg's .339 batting average, the Tigers jumped from fifth place in the American League to battle for the pennant. Never before had a player filled such a significant role for a major league team, and for the first time, Greenberg — and Jewish baseball fans all over the country — faced a dilemma. September 10 was Rosh Hashanah, and the Tigers, who led the league by four games in the standings, were playing the Boston Red Sox. Fans and rabbis debated whether Greenberg, who by his accomplishments on the field was winning acceptance for Jews among non-Jewish Americans, should play on the High Holy Days. Greenberg came up with his own compromise: He played on Rosh Hashanah and hit two home runs that won the game, 2-1; ten days later, he spent Yom Kippur in a synagogue.

This was such a big deal in that era that the Free Press' own superstar wordsmith, poet Edgar Guest (shown at lower left here with his pet dog), wrote a special ode to Greenberg's noble choice. It's cast in the parliance of the 1930s, so it may seem a little dated in its tone, but we'll repeat it here as a reminder that an appreciation and respect for diversity has deep roots.

It's the lesson Guest suggested should be drawn from Greenberg's stance. Too bad the Tigers front office apparently has forgotten what happened 72 years ago in Detroit. Here's Guest's poetic "take" on the lesson ...

Come Yom Kippur, holy fast day wide-world over to the Jew
And Hank Greenberg to his teaching and the old tradition true
Spent the day among his people and he didn't come to play
Said Murphy to Mulrooney, "We shall lose the game today!
"We shall miss him in the infield and shall miss him at the bat,
"But he's true to his religion - and we'll honor him for that!"