This is a hodgepodge of an introduction because the pieces don’t seem to fit together, but I think by the end it will make sense: I was recently playing pickleball with a group of women I often play with; we aren’t long-time friends but we have been getting to know each other in between games, sharing bits about our lives, who we are, where we have come from, where we are going. I also live in an area that can be rather hostile to religion in an intellectual sort of way. We are not persecuting anyone, but we certainly look with some academic snobbery on “believers.”

In addition to my new pickleball habit, I have also started to wear a small cross on a simple silver chain around my neck. It was a cross that belonged to my grandmother and it allows me to feel her conviction in God’s presence while also trying to say to anyone who sees it, that this too is what people who want to follow Jesus look like. I started doing this because as I engaged in my lenten study this year a question was raised about how we are picking up our own crosses and I realized I mostly try to keep it to myself. It felt like a real commitment to say, ‘no, this is who I am, and if you have questions or concerns or feelings then I’ll be available to talk about it or hear about it or just say okay.’ It felt like a big step from where I came from having grown up Jewish in a small town where it was often safer and more comfortable to pass with people who didn’t know me.

All of which brings me to the fact that I was wearing my little cross while playing pickleball which prompted one of the players to make a comment about God (or the lack thereof). Additional comments were made about faith and belief and asking if I could just pray for a win, to which I said “I’m not sure God cares about our pickleball game, I am sure God cares about us.” Then a ball was called out and there was the question, “was it out?” and I said, “we can play the point again, I want to make sure everyone is okay with this.” And my God questioning partner said, “you are such a saint,” and I said, “I just want to play fair.” But then it got me thinking.

I’m not a saint, I don’t aspire to be a saint, I imagine that if you do set that as a goal it’s probably a mark against your ultimate beatification. According to the internet dictionaries a saint is someone “acknowledged as holy,” “very virtuous,” or who has been formally canonized. I’m not any of those things. Most of us are not. I do, however, want to be good. I want to tell the truth, I want to treat people kindly, I want to help those in need. It feels better to act thoughtfully than it does to react emotionally. I get mad, I say things I should not say, I think mean thoughts, but I want to not do that, not so I can be a saint but because I want my emotional life to be full of loving and light and goodness, not pettiness and irritation. Maybe that makes me selfish. I don’t want to be ‘good’ because it makes me a saint, I want to be ‘good’ because it makes me feel better as a human.

In Mere Christianity, C.S. Lewis says, “I would much rather say that every time you make a choice you are turning the central part of you, that part of you that chooses, into something a little different than what it was before.And taking your life as a whole, with all your innumerable choices, all your life long you are slowly turning this central thing either into a heavenly creature or into a hellish creature: either into a creature that is in harmony with God, and with other creatures, and with itself, or else into one that is in a state of war and hatred with God, and with its fellow creatures, and with its self.*”

I will repeat that I am not a saint. For most of my life I don’t think I have even been particularly good. Yet I have started down this path and have found that even though it seems to be easier to say the expedient thing, to take the win, to placate the people in the conflict, it never feels better to do that. It feels just a little off (or a lot), and you have to spend more and more time justifying how you came to that discomfort. When something is clear and obvious and necessary, I just say what it is; when I’m not sure, when I make a mistake it is just easier to say ‘let’s find a way to fix this.’ I want to be good, it feels good to do good, and I hope that makes me a little more good each time I choose to do that.

* Mere Christianity, C.S. Lewis, Book 3, Chapter 4; Harper Collins 1952