I signed a few autographs at a show the other day, and it occurred to me that it's a bizarre ritual. Fellow humans want you to sign your name and give it to them as a remembrance of the encounter. I have never asked fans for their autograph in return, but they want mine anyway. Perhaps to document that I actually exist outside a DVD? It’s a keepsake that proves:

a) I’m not illiterate, and

b) They are willing to humble themselves and ask for a piece of me to take home.

One wonders if there is any criterion that legitimizes an autograph? If I decide to sign my name left-handed for example, is that considered a forgery? What if I spell my name wrong or write it in a way that I have never done before? If I use hieroglyphics does it count?

Ancient tribes used to fear photographs being taken of them, because they thought the image might steal their soul. I wonder if the autograph seeker doesn’t lose a part of his soul by wanting another being's name to revel in? Autographs are a vicarious thrill for the autograph collector. It is a strange form of idolatry as it bestows value by proving someone they admire was in their presence. It doesn’t honor the signer as much as lift up the collector who carries this “talisman” around to show others who you’ve been next to.

Though the autograph seeker could conceivably be honoring you, believing your autograph is valuable and cherished, is that what really matters? Or is it instead the communal encounter of two people who respect each other? I was in Florida a number of years ago. I was performing at a comedy club in a hotel there. One day I was walking from my room to the restaurant outside the hotel and glanced at a man standing in the parking lot looking towards the building obviously waiting for someone.

I continued to walk a few more steps and then suddenly, it hit me. That was Ted Williams! If you are not a baseball fan then that may not mean much to you. But baseball fans know that this was the Holy Grail of a sighting. If you could meet one of the most renowned people in any field of endeavor, a legend, an icon, that is Ted Williams to baseball-ophiles. It would be the equivalent of meeting Abraham Lincoln to a political junkie. He’s Caruso to opera fans, and he’s Moses or Paul to Christians. He’s that big.

I have never been star struck, and only as a kid did I collect autographs at baseball games. I didn’t want to bother him, but as I strolled further away I started to evaluate the situation more thoroughly. This is TED WILLIAMS!! My dilemma was that Ted was never known for being gracious and cordial to reporters or fans. But I said to myself, “I have to meet this guy. What’s the worst that could happen? He tells me to get lost?”

So I decided I would go back and if he was still there, I would approach him. I returned and sure enough there he was. So I walked straight up to him and said,

“Excuse me sir.”

He looked at me and replied, “Yeah?”

I said, “I just wanted to shake your hand. I know Ted Williams when I see him.”

He kind of half smiled-smirked and shook my hand. Then I added,

“I have a baseball card of yours worth $250.00."

He said, “Hang on to it, it’s going to be worth more.”

Then I asked, “What are you doing here, golfing?” and he responded,

“Yeah.”

But by this time already he was checking out of the dialogue and going back to looking for his friend. I realized my audience with Ted was over, so I walked away. It lasted maybe 30 seconds, but I never forgot it. I didn’t ask for or get his autograph. I just shook his hand and told him I admired him. That was enough for me. That experience is in my head and heart and will stay there 'til I die.

We Christians often consider what we’ll ask God when we get to heaven but rarely consider what God will ask us when we get there. I know now. For me the first thing God will say is,

“Welcome home son…now, how in the heck did you not ask for Ted Williams autograph when he’s standing right there?! What are you stupid?”

To which I will have to reply,

“Apparently.”