Madison Bumgarner, Abraham, and the Mid-term Elections

I barely had time to recover from game 7 of the World Series, when my home town team, the Kansas City Royals, lost it all in the bottom of the ninth, with two outs and the tying runner just 90 feet from home plate. I’m a loyal Red Sox fan, through and through. But the magic of seeing my first baseball team rise out of obscurity, poverty and perpetually being in the basement, charmed me from the divisional series to the very end.

 There was little time to feel the crushing disappointment, the shock of “almost,” and the sense of “what if.” For a fleeting moment I considered the defeat in terms that Red Sox fans (used to) recognize:  how unjust for one team to dominate so many championships, leaving the small market team of unknowns in the dust.

Within hours it seemed, all attention turned to this week’s elections and baseball faded into the shadows. With the non-stop barrage of coverage of local races, ballot initiatives, and the fate of the Senate, the baseball void was filled with yet another winner-take-all contest. Election Day brought new disappointments. Like the World Series, no matter who or what you voted for, someone on the rival team was either despondent or exultant.

At the end of the day, both events left winners and losers. For the losers, the results lead us to disappointment or even outrage. Political coverage often resembles sports coverage, dividing us into rival teams. Yet the day after an election, while many are already preparing for the next showdown, what is really important is that both winners and losers learn to work together for our common good.

Before we can reach that exalted place of reconciliation, perhaps we can all step back and examine our fears and worries and learn to overcome them.

I’ll start with the Royals. Reading posts from KC friends on Facebook, I was moved by their enthusiastic support for their team, and their graciousness in defeat. I realized quickly that Kansas City had nothing to be ashamed of. After all, it took a pitcher from another planet to beat the Kansas City Royals. Of the four losses, Madison Bumgarner was responsible for three Giants victories. That’s how hard it was for the Giants to claim the crown. That’s how good the Royals were. No shame in saying they lost to the best pitcher of the last century.

As for the winners in the mid-term elections, we might not be so charitably inclined. How many of us would consider that our rivals are of the exceptional quality of Madison Bumgarner?

And yet, perhaps we are missing something.

Jewish tradition relates the story of the two schools of Hillel and Shammai, two “parties” with deeply divided beliefs about Jewish law, practice and values. The Talmud says that they debated for three years, until they were nearly at each others’ throats. At that point, a divine voice or bat kol intervened, saying Elu v’elu divrei Elohim chayim, “These and also those are the words of the living God…” (Babylonian Talmud Eruvin)

The message is that we may disagree, even to the point of violence, but at some point, it’s important to acknowledge that our adversary’s argument may contain a grain of truth. That our adversary is not evil to the core, but, like us, was created in the divine image. That our divisions are not as black and white as we righteously proclaim.

And yet, one side must prevail. The passage ends with the bat kol’s determination that the halacha (the law) goes according to Hillel. An election is a moment in time, a choice point. But it should not lead us to division and hatred. Once the decision is made, we must continue the conversation (ideally in an environment of civility, understanding and respect).

But what if it’s difficult to imagine the divine goodness in someone we have vilified, feared, or worse, has been the source of abuse and corruption?

In this week’s Torah portion, Vayera, we are reminded of the patriarch Abraham, who is best known in Jewish tradition for the quality of hesed. Usually translated as lovingkindness, hesed combines love and compassion with ongoing concern. Abraham’s nobility came from his ability to welcome anyone into his tent, with genuine hospitality and exceeding generosity. We are called to be like Abraham, to see the goodness in every human being we encounter and to act with hesed.

How can we imagine God working through people we vehemently disagree with?

I found a useful answer in a teaching from the Hasidic master Menachem Nahum of Chernobyl:

“ And, indeed, the truth is that the blessed Creator is present in each of us, even in the most wicked person, the worst sinner. The proof for this is that thoughts of teshuvah arise in every wicked person, every day.”

We may well see others as wicked. But even the wicked, says our master, contain divine goodness. That goodness dwells in the potential for teshuvah, repentance/inner change. Who knows what our adversaries will do in the future? For this reason, we are obliged to bring compassion and concern and continue to engage with them. Just as we may surprise them with our actions, who knows what surprises are in store for us? The challenge is: once we acknowledge our disappointment, can we open ourselves to the possibility for good? The KC fans rose above their team’s defeat. I pray that our country can overcome our divisions as well.