Recently, while sorting through a pile of ancient sermons, I came across some musings on “The Grand Old Game” of Golf by Bill Downey, who passed away 12 years ago come November.
Bill was the parish’s senior warden when I first arrived here some 25 years ago, and not a day passes that I don’t remember him with great fondness. He was a prince of a fellow—generous, kindly, patient, and unfailingly polite. No less important, behind that affable exterior lay a steely inner resolve that served the parish well on many notable occasions.
Bill was deeply devoted to the game of golf and it was his contention that the game of golf established 800 AM Eucharist as a Sunday institution.
I asked him if he thought it a tad sacrilegious to attend a service simply because it afforded a good tee time afterwards. “Oh no,” he replied, “It couldn’t be that! Golf reinforces your Christianity.”
At first, I thought he was joking, but then I saw the steely glint in his eye. The next Sunday, he handed me the following article to amplify his contention. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. GPH✠
The Rector surely will arch an eyebrow (maybe two) at the following observations, but it is my intention to show in the least boring manner possible, the similarities of honest churchmanship to the determination of a dedicated golfer.
For those who have, at best, preconceived ideas about the Grand Old Game, let me just briefly try to define the fundamental facts about what it is.
First, it is a GAME. It requires self-discipline, concentration, a plan, and patience. It is governed world-wide by one set of rules covering every conceivable situation.
Now right here, a more scholarly work would insert a footnote to the effect that, being an invention of man some 500 years old, the rules have had to conform to endless numbers of situations previously inconceivable. Nevertheless, it is, and always has been since its inception, a game in which the object is to propel a ball with a stick over a prescribed course of terrain and into a hole in the fewest possible strokes.
And the basic rule for 500 years has been and continues to be that one plays the ball as it lies, neither improving nor changing its position. So much for the religion of golf. Now, to my analogy.
Not everyone who shouts “Fore, Fore” shall enter the kingdom of Old Tom Morris, Bobby Jones, or Jack Nicklaus. As we said, golf is a game for anyone silly enough to challenge it. The fact that there are great numbers of people who do, made it obvious long ago that there was opportunity for the few skillful practitioners to make a living teaching us hackers how to better our hacking.
Obvious also was the fact that a gathering of these masters of the game made for a popular spectacle. Thus it can be legitimately stated that golf is a business. But only secondarily. Primarily, golf is a game.
The four requirements of the game, previously stated, are certainly admirable ambitions for everyone. Physical coordination, of course, is involved and is something we all have, to whatever degree God intended, but the flawless variety of a ballet star or a trapeze artist is not required for the game.
Few of us can claim the mental capacity to concentrate on one objective for upwards of four hours. The self-discipline required to accept an otherwise excellent stroke that hits a pebble and ends up is a sand bunker puts a strain on the saintliest of men. The strategy one plans for the best route to a given hole may not have accounted for a gust of wind, or an unbalance swing, but patience might provide a result that cancels the error.
Through all of this, I have failed to point out that one never plays the game of golf by one’s self. That would be practice only. The rules stipulate the order of play (the liturgy), and each player is silent and motionless while the other struggles with his ability without delay.
We can put an end to this tedious analogy by telling the story (parable) of a fine local golfer seated by a lovely young lady at a dinner party. Searching for a conversational jump-start, she gushed, “I hear you are an excellent golfer. Is that true?” The young man blushed in reply: “That’s like asking me if I am a good Christian. If I really am, I don’t think so.”
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