"It's a kairos, Paulus, it's a kairos."

Here is a reason to put down that tome, theologian!: There is a story about Reinhold Niebuhr, the American-born theologian, taking a fellow theologian Paul Tillich, who was a recent immigrant from Germany, to see the Red Sox play at Fenway Park. After several innings Tillich was still having trouble getting the knack of the game. As play progressed, an impressive double play was started by the shortstop on the home team. Fans throughout the stands roared with approval and applause. Puzzled by such an overwhelming response to a play that had not seen a ball hit over the fence or even far enough to score a base-runner, Tillich sought an explanation from Niebuhr. Failing to communicate the significance of the event in understandable baseball terms, Niebuhr finally said, "It's a kairos, Paulus, it's a kairos." With that explanation, Tillich understood. (For Tillich, kairos was the category of time and history that marks turning points, occasions of depth rather than events continuing the normal chronometric measure of time.)  See, there is a theology in sport, a theological anthropology to be precise.  Baseball, with other sports, present us with the heroic, wherein a force larger than life is present and wherein the course of events is transformed by the nature of the event itself.