Daily Archives: January 9, 2012

Football and Religion: Or, the Religion of Football

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I grew up in small town Ohio. Football in the seventies was not an industry. Basketball was still more important. I played in the marching band, cheered on my high school team, though it wasn’t particularly successful. Basketball mattered more, so much in fact, that the traditional rivalry with the closest town had to be suspended in 1968 because passions ran so high. We didn’t pray before games; I don’t think anyone believed that God cared whether Archbold or Pettisville won the game, no matter how much it mattered to us.

I’ve probably posted about this before, because over the years I have become less and less interested in sports contests. Yes, in part it was because I found myself teaching at colleges that had athletic programs. And at those institutions, the values always seemed skewed. For example, one year, members of the volleyball team couldn’t make it to the first class of the term because of an away game (I’ve actually been surprised by my wife’s experience teaching at UW Madison with starting players from the football team in her class).

But the whole Tebow thing takes it to another level. No, God does not care who wins a football game. As the prophet Amos makes clear:

I hate, I despise your festivals,
and I take no delight in your solemn assemblies.
Even though you offer me your burnt-offerings and grain-offerings,
I will not accept them;
and the offerings of well-being of your fatted animals
I will not look upon.
Take away from me the noise of your songs;
I will not listen to the melody of your harps.
But let justice roll down like waters,
and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.

Let’s face it. An NFL game, or a college bowl game, is as close to a festival as we get in the USA.

It’s pathetic that identification as a Christian seems now to be connected with a mediocre quarterback who makes ostentatious display of his piety:

‘And whenever you pray, do not be like the hypocrites; for they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, so that they may be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.

The Great Awakening: if only

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Over the weekend, a gathering was held in Chicago sponsored by the Episcopal Diocese of Chicago and Seabury-Western Theological Seminary. It was entitled, rather boldly, the Great Awakening.

The Episcopal Cafe, as it should, posted info about this in order to engage conversation. Here’s the comment I wrote:

I don’t want to sound snarky, really. I have enormous respect for Bishop Lee, Diana Butler Bass, and Brian McLaren. But I’m at the point in my life and ministry where I would like to see conversations about the future of the church, the future of Christianity, the future of communities of faith, to involve people who are actually involved in the day-to-day struggle of creating community in this post-Christian culture. I would like to see a conference where the pundits and analysts had to engage those of us who are trying to deal with the realities of elderly, homebound people who expect regular pastoral care, homeless people who spend the night in our shelter, the ongoing life of our parish, and young adults who are so stretched they lack the energy to attend Sunday morning services.

The Great Awakening? Please, spare me.

Come and See: Lectionary Reflections for the Second Sunday after Epiphany, Year B

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In year B of the RCL, the gospel readings are taken from Mark, but because Mark is rather short, from time to time, the Gospel of John is also used. Often, the use of John extends over several weeks, as in the reading of much of John 6, or the Lenten and Easter gospels. Other times, we seem to jump back and forth, with no apparent logic, nor any warning.

We’ve already read portions of John 1(1:6-8, 19-28 on the Third Sunday of Advent; John 1:1-14 on Christmas Day); but it’s unfortunate that we’ve not had the opportunity to read the whole of chapter 1 because v. 19-42 provide the first scenes in a drama that help to explain what is going on in the text for next Sunday. John 1:29-42 is the gospel reading for the Second Sunday after Epiphany in Year A; go figure (Here’s my sermon from last year on that text).

The drama begins with questions about who John the Baptizer is. He denies he is the Messiah, Elias, or one of the prophets. The next day, he and two disciples encounter Jesus. He points to Jesus, and says to his disciples, “Behold, the Lamb of God.” They follow Jesus, and when he asks them what they want, they reply, “Where are you staying?” Jesus responds, “Come and see.” And they stayed with him that day. One of those disciples is Andrew, who goes to tell his brother Simon that they have found the Messiah. Simon comes and sees.

Then comes the reading for this week. Jesus encounters Philip and says, “Follow me.” Like Andrew, Philip goes to find someone else; this time it’s Nathaniel, who gives a cheeky response. But Philip, too, says, “Come and see.”

One of the recurrent images in these verses is “to see.” While different Greek words are used from time to time, and Jesus’ “come and see” is phrased differently from Philip’s, the same word is used for John’s “Behold” and Philip’s “see.” In our culture, seeing is believing, except when we don’t believe our eyes. We are so attuned to special effects, computer graphics, and the like, that I suspect over time the idea that “seeing is believing” will lose its appeal. And indeed, in the gospel, it’s not just about “seeing.” It’s about seeing in a particular way, often guided or informed by faith, or by God’s miraculous power.

In Jesus’ encounter with Nathaniel, this seeing is also knowing. Jesus identifies Nathaniel, saying something crucial about who he is. Nathaniel asks Jesus how he knew him, and Jesus replies, “I saw you under the fig tree.” When Nathaniel comes to know Jesus, naming him as the Son of God, Jesus replies, “You will see greater things than these.”

Seeing, knowing, believing. These three are all wrapped up together in John’s gospel, offering a complex sequence of how one comes to true faith in the one who is Jesus Christ. But it all begins with, “Come and see.” And our eyes are opened when we “stay” with Jesus as Andrew and the other disciple did.