The impermanence of things....like baseball rosters

It has been a tough few weeks for Mets' fans. First, outfielder Brandon Nimmo was traded to the Texas Rangers. Brandon had been a Met since his Major League debut in 2016, and was cherished by teammates and fans alike for his enthusiasm and clubhouse leadership. Next we lost Edwin Diaz, a Met since 2019, who signed as a free agent with the World Series Champion Los Angeles Dodgers for $69 million over a three-year contract. Edgar, a three-time All-Star, was the Mets' esteemed closer, and fans always cheered along with his iconic entrance song, BlasterJaxx & Timmy Trumpet's "Narco," as he jogged in from the bullpen to save a game.

But the crushing blow came only days later when first baseman and Mets' all-time home run leader Pete Alonso (aka "Polar Bear") signed a five-year, $155 million deal with the Baltimore Orioles. Pete was a home-grown hero, having signed with the Mets in the 2016 MLB draft, and played his entire career with our team, whom he represented five times as an All-Star.

When this news broke, Mets' fans were in turmoil. Many of us anticipated this disastrous development since we knew that Pete was a free agent and had only delayed the inevitable by signing a one-year contract with the Mets the prior year. I followed much of the moaning and groaning on social media, as some so-called fans vowed to abandon the Mets, furious with team management for not making an attractive counter-offer to try to keep Pete in Queens.

For me, this was a hard pill to swallow, though I'd been through similar misfortunes many times before. A life-long Mets' fan, I was used to disappointments, the Mets' 2025 season being a prime example. (We had the best record in baseball mid-season, only to falter in the second half, missing the playoffs by one game.) The present pain recalled my disappointment a year earlier, when the Mets failed to resign fan-favorite infielder and Latin music star, Jose Iglesias. Jose's brief but memorable Mets' career was highlighted by his chart-topping single, "OMG," which became the theme song for the Mets' miraculous playoff run in 2024.

I've written prior blogposts about baseball, particularly musing on the phenomenon of being a devoted fan to a team whose roster changes every year, as favorite players are either traded or become free agents and sign with other teams. I've lived through shifts in ownership and management, at times displeased with the direction the team is taking. But I remain a Mets' fan through thick and thin, feast and famine. I don't know if anything will shake my fervor and loyalty. 

But shifting tides and sometimes unwelcome change are facts of life's many facets. "Nothing lasts forever, but the earth and sky," as the song goes. As I age, the impermanence of things becomes ever more apparent. I have often been averse to change, though I am on occasion happily surprised when an unexpected turn of events results in an upgrade. I dislike the platitude "change is good," simply because that is not always the case. Way beyond baseball, our country and world are constantly repositioning and evolving, and one has to learn to either adapt or rebel. Though I'm not religious in the conventional sense of the word, I sometimes need to remind myself of the wisdom of Reinhold Niebuhr's Serenity Prayer. Permanence is illusive, as I crave something solid and steady to hold on to. Like a revolving door, people move in and out of my life -- loved ones pass on, friends move away. I've been retired for five years, and my career in finance is now in the past. However, I still refer to my former employer of thirty-seven years as "we" instead of "they," more often than not. So what remains steadfast and true? My principles, my honor, and my conviction that human beings are capable of great things, as well as of evil, and that we must take care of each other and of our planet, for there is no Planet B. 

The treasures of devotion

 A few days ago, I visited one of our New York City treasures here in Manhattan on "Museum Mile." I had learned that an exhibit at The Frick Collection, entitled "To the Holy Sepulcher: Treasures from the Terra Sancta Museum," was closing the first week of January, so I hurried and bought a ticket. I had not visited this museum in many years, and it had recently reopened after a years-long renovation. I remember visiting as a high school student many decades ago, when I had the good fortune to study art history, igniting a life-long love of art. (One high school summer I worked as an intern at the great Metropolitan Museum of Art, but that story will have to wait for another blogpost.)

"To the Holy Sepulcher: Treasures from the Terra Sancta Museum" was a stunning collection of more than forty religious objects on loan from the Church of the Holy Sepulcher in Jerusalem. 

Among the items were jewel-encrusted gold and silver altar pieces, reliquaries, and sacred vestments from the 17th and 18th centuries, gifted to the Church by wealthy patrons, monarchs and emperors from across Europe. To say that these pieces were fabulous would not do them justice -- I was in awe. But aside from the beauty, artistry, scale and immense intrinsic value that these objects possessed, I was captivated by their magnificence, and imaged myself as an ordinary worshiper in one of these very Catholic countries several centuries ago. Like my own ancestors (who were probably peasants or laborers) the common folk of Europe must have been entranced by these holy treasures, which lifted them from the drudgery of their meager existences into the ecstatic realms of religious devotion as they attended weekly Mass. 

This 17th or 18th century peasant or laborer was likely exposed to only one religion, and attended weekly indoctrination sessions -- I mean devotional services -- at their local church or cathedral. It became clear to me as I mused that becoming an adherent to the Catholic faith was practically inevitable for the vast majority of the population, peasants and nobility alike. Only the highly educated  would have been exposed to other belief-systems, and even fellow Christians of the Protestant or Eastern Orthodox persuasions would have been looked at askance. Jews, Muslims and non-believers were under constant threat of persecution. And I'm not just picking on the Catholic faith; Protestants and Eastern Orthodox observers were likewise guilty of intolerance, and religious persecution and violence, as were adherents of Islam, Buddhism and Hinduism in their realms, to name but a few. 

Having been born in the latter half of the 20th century, in a pluralistic society, and in a mixed religion household, my outlook has evolved very differently. My mother was raised Jewish (but not very) and my father Protestant (but not very). My family of upbringing always had a Hanukkah menorah and a Christmas tree this time of year. The only formal religious education I received was at the Brooklyn Society for Ethical Culture. As a teen and young adult, I explored several religions, mostly the various Protestant faiths of family members and friends.  Decades of exploration and introspection have led me to my current identity as an Ethical Culturist-Unitarian Universalist agnostic and a secular Jew. Had I been born in a different place and time, my religious outlook would likely have been very different.