Fanatics and Fans

"I used to be a Pirates fan," said the lady at a baseball game, "but they've done so poorly the past couple of years I don't pay any attention to them any more. Maybe when they start winning again I'll go back to the games."

Now I ask you, what kind of a "fan" is that? Hasn't the word itself evolved from "fanatic"? Nor was this just an isolated instance. The Atlanta Braves, once America's Team and the team I've followed for many years, has had a marvelous run of 14 consecutive division championships, an incredible record that's not likely to be soon broken. It requires an amazing degree of consistency and skill in this era of free agency to continue to win at that level for 14 long baseball seasons, and I was proud to be one of the many around the country who claimed to be a fan of the Braves. But last fall, after they had a "bad season" (which meant they didn't win the championship) the so-called fans left them like leaves from an October tree.

Nor is just a phenomenon of the pros. Here in Wilmington the UNC-W men's basketball team has over the years had a great team, winning far more than they lost and generating lots of excitement among their fans. They've been to the NCAA "Big Dance" four times, twice to the NIT, and last year they were 25-8 and conference champions. Everyone went crazy about the Seahawks. Now, after a 7-22 season, they might as well be call the Vultures, and the seats which had been packed for years suddenly became empty.

So what's happened to fans? Is it a matter of being fickle, or is it just not cool to root for a team that doesn't win? Is being a fanatic a bad thing?

Drop this idea up (or down!) a notch, and think about what's happening to our Episcopal Church. We've always prided ourselves on being a community of faith that stuck together, no matter what. During the Civil War, for instance, when every other non-Catholic church in this country was dividing into northern and southern camps, the Episcopal Church remained united. Sure we had "high church" and "low church" and "broad church" and all those fuzzy groups, but when push came to shove we stuck together and worked in unity. It's not too much of a stretch to say that for generations we've all been "fans" of the Episcopal Church, no matter what.

Years ago (I'm talking the early 1960s) the Episcopal Church was facing a major crisis revolving around how we were going to deal with the reality of racially integrating our Church. Those were painful days as we struggled with reparations and regrets, anger and apologies, and out of that struggle emerged something called the General Convention Special Program in which we all, high church and low church, black and white, traditional and avant-garde, agreed on what we had to do and how we were going to do it together.

Those days are history. Today if there's something you don't agree with (chose one: new Prayer Book, choir in the back balcony, female clergy, ordaining or marrying homosexuals, the rector's new haircut, all of the above) you're gone as fast as a Pirates fan.

I'm not sure if it's a matter of loyalty or discipline or keeping promises and vows or maybe even just being "stuck", but mark me down as one who's a fan of baseball, a fan of the Braves, and a fan of the Episcopal Church. Being a fanatic's not all bad.