A few weeks ago a friend of mine came by for a Saturday afternoon visit. Since I was “wedding free” at the time, we walked down the street to watch the Augustana Viking baseball team play.
We stayed as long as we could, but a spring rainstorm brought a sudden interruption to the game. We made our way back to the rectory and we watched a bit of the NFL draft. There was a strange convergence during the draft that I have been pondering since.
The draft began with the NFL commissioner asking the assembled crowd to pause for a moment of silence to honor Pat Tillman, a defensive safety for the Arizona Cardinals, who had died the week before in Afghanistan.
When I heard the news about his death, I remembered vaguely his leaving the NFL to enlist in the army. I remembered thinking it was impressive; here was this man who turned down a $3.6 million contract to play a game he loves, a man, really, at the top of his career, leaving it all after 9/11.
The moment of silence in the NFL draft room was sincere and powerful; taking place in front of a large poster of Tillman from his playing days, but then the draft began.
There were two things that struck me that afternoon, sitting warm, but a bit soggy, in the rectory living room. Two things I have been pondering since. The first is what happened immediately following the moment of silence.
The San Diego Chargers drafted Eli Manning.
Now, this may not mean much if you are not a football fan; but the week before the draft, Eli Manning, and his father, football great Archie Manning, as well as Eli’s brother, Indianapolis quarterback Payton Manning, had all made it clear that Eli would not play for the San Diego Chargers. He would, in fact, sit out a year if the Chargers drafted him.
San Diego picked Manning and the booing began as the young man stood in front of the assembled cameras and smiled painfully while holding up a Chargers jersey. Within the hour, a deal was struck and Manning was traded to the New York Giants.
The commentators went back and forth, weighing the decision of Manning to “work the system” to his benefit and whether it was good for New York or just good for Eli Manning. Depending on who you were listening to, he is either a shrewd negotiator who is getting the best for his talent and a chance for a Super Bowl ring, or he is a spoiled punk.
Either way, the young man made his mark and, occasionally, as the camera passed over the stage, and I saw the picture of Pat Tillman and I thought, “life goes on.”
The second thing that struck me that afternoon was the fact that I only “vaguely” remembered the story of Pat Tillman. It had hit me as profound when it happened and I was meaning to remember it, and maybe even write about it, but I soon forgot. It took his death to remind me of how he had impressed me in life.
I guess, for me, “life goes on” as well.
What I began to think about that rainy football/baseball filled afternoon was the fact that I really dislike the phrase, “life goes on.” We are allowed to grieve for a time and then “life goes on,” someone or some event touches us and then “life goes on.” This occurred to me on the second anniversary of 9/11 when I gathered for a prayer service and there was a nice crowd, but nothing like the crowds from the year before.
Life, I suppose, went on.
My growing dislike for the concept is born of the, I think, mistaken presumption that “life” is more important than the events which occur within it. It is the routine that is suppose to matter, and routines can make us take the most important things for granted.
Yes, we have to have our routines, laundry needs to be done, food cooked, children taught, jobs done, groceries bought, bathrooms cleaned; but sometimes these events, important thought they are, keep us from the wonder around us, they can keep us from appreciating the gifts of love we have received.
Certainly the Church, within the liturgical year, sets before us the opportunities to stop and reflect, the great seasons of the year are meant to help us focus on what really matters. But within the rhythm of our daily lives, we also need some time of prayer when we can step out of the routine and be renewed.
During this time we are renewed in gratitude for the people and the events that mold and shape us. This time makes sure events and memories do not simply slip away in the mist of routine, but are treasured in our hearts.
Life may indeed have to “go on,” but our time of renewal each day reminds us why life matters in the first place.