Roberto Clemente
Year B
St. Stephen’s, Orinda
Great things, Thou hast done, O Lord, my God. I would name them and proclaim them, but they are more than I can tell. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. Amen.
My hope—my sincere hope, is that you and I have built a level of trust over these past twelve months. I say that, ominously…because I am about to invoke that trust. I need you to know that this sermon will end in Good News, but I have a warning, the path to that good news is a wondering path, one that will take us right into the very heart of The Constitution and Canons of the Episcopal Church and the Resolutions of General Convention, with both the House of Deputies and the House of Bishops, concurring.
Now…I know what you’re thinking, the only thing more tiresome than a fourth straight week of loaf-based gospel readings is the political machinations of the Episcopal Church. But, hard as it may be to believe, this is where our good news begins.
For deep in the minutia of resolutions on Prayer Book, Liturgy, & Music is a process whereby we can first recognize, and perhaps eventually canonize new saints. When it comes to minting new saints, I think that the process of our Roman Catholic friends holds our imagination. There must be three miracles attributed to a person of profound faith and godliness. Here in the Episcopal Church, it is more a matter of will. More specifically, we need to answer three questions: One, is there a person whose life and faith has served as an inspiration to others? Two, are there local commemorations which have honored this person? And finally, third, are we convinced that their life of faith, expressed through both word and deed, might serve to inspire other Christians if their commemoration was more widely recognized.
This morning, I would like to propose a new saint. I think that this morning, we can answer the first two questions positively…and I hope that in doing so, we might move closer to answering that third question.
And the reason I would like to begin this process of adding a saint to our liturgical calendar this morning is because today would have been his 90th birthday. On August 18th, 1934 Roberto Clemente was born in the San Anton barrio of Carolina Puerto Rico. Many of you might recognize that name as the Baseball Hall of Fame Right Fielder for the Pittsburg Pirates…and that is exactly who I would like to nominate as a saint this morning. Clemente was a skilled baseball player, a generational talent, but he was also an intense man of faith, a staunch advocate for civil rights and equality, and a humanitarian who died trying to provide relief supplies to the people of Nicaragua after a massive earthquake in December 1972.
Many believed that Roberto was destined for the Olympics as a Track and Field star. He was an accomplished high jumper, and an impressive javelin thrower. He would later share how throwing the javelin trained him on how to properly set his feet and strengthened his arm. He was the youngest of seven children, and when he wasn’t on the track, he was loading sacks of sugar off the trucks where his father worked as a foreman.
One day, a scout of a local softball team watched him play stickball in the barrio where Roberto lived, and he quickly rose through the ranks of semi-pro baseball in Puerto Rico before being drafted in the Major Leagues and making his debut with the Pittsburg Pirates in 1955, fittingly against the Brooklyn Dodgers.
It had been just eight years since Jackie Robinson had broken baseball’s color barrier. That might sound like a long time, but at that point in history, 4 of the league’s 16 teams had yet to integrate. While he was of African descent, he faced the double disadvantage of being Latin American and a non-native English speaker. In his first few seasons in the big leagues, he was the target of near-constant sniping of fans, writers, and at times, even team mates. His rookie year was unheralded, due mostly to a back injury in the offseason when a drunk driver T’d his vehicle. That would change the next season, when trailing by 3 runs in the 9th, Clemente hit the only verified walk off, inside-the-park-Grand Slam. From there, his career took off.
But as sterling as his performance on the field would be, it was his actions off the field which merit his consideration as a saint in the Episcopal Church. In nearly every off-season, Roberto would return home to Puerto Rico and surrounding Caribbean islands to perform charity and relief work. Many friends of the Clemente’s would remark that Roberto’s faith and family came first, baseball, and everything else was a distant second. Those off-season trips back to the Caribbean, the relief and charity work which he worked and donated so generously towards became his identity. Roberto knew that he was blessed not just with talent, but with resources and influence to improve the lives of many in Latin America. Here in the States, he was a champion of Civil Rights and equality. When traveling with the Pirates, Clemente was regularly excluded from hotels and restaurants who refused to serve patrons of color. He denounced the segregation he confronted during spring training in the Jim Crow era of the South and pushed for the Pirates to make changes to better accommodate Black players.
In December of 1972, Clemente visited the capital city of Nicaragua, Managua. Three weeks later, when the city was devastated by an earthquake, he worked quickly to mobilize relief supplies. Clemente personally paid for three planes filled with relief, but the supplies were being intercepted by the corrupt Somoza government, Clemente hoped that his superstar presence might ensure that the supplies got to the survivors. Tragically, the plane crashed shortly after takeoff, claiming the lives of Clemente and the three pilots on board.
The baseball writers of America changed the rules of enshrinement to honor Clemente, waiving the customary waiting period due to the circumstances of his death. But behind the accolades and honors bestowed on Roberto is the simple truth that he was a Christian who saw need and provided for it, saw injustice and spoke out against it, and who saw the plight and suffering of others, and worked to relieve it. He died trying to feed, comfort, and shelter those who were without. Paul understood the rarity of such selflessness. “Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous person, though for a good person someone might possibly dare to die.”
Roberto Clemente was just such a rare person…a faithful Christian who understood that everyone is his neighbor, and acted to be an agent of mercy. I am working with the Dioceses of Pittsburgh and Puerto Rico, and I hope that in a few short years, we might once again commemorate his life, not just as a remarkable person, but as a saint worthy of emulation.
