A Super(natural) Bowl?
I'm pleased to guest post this from my two colleagues down the hall from me, Jeffrey Scholes (who previously posted here after his beloved Rangers just missed winning the World Series a couple of years back) and Raphael Sassower, from the Philosophy Department at the University of Colorado. They are the co-authors of a brand new book just out with from Routledge, Religion and Sports in American Culture. The eyes of Tebow, or of Richard Sherman, are upon you.
Jeffrey Scholes and Raphael Sassower
The headline of a survey released by the Public Religion Research Institute in mid-January “Half of American Fans See Supernatural forces at Play in Sports,” was sure to catch some attention. Eyes must have rolled at the ridiculous suggestion of God intervening in an event that has millionaires running around, trying to catch a piece of leather. Reggie White was either confused or calculated when he claimed that God told him to play for the Green Bay Packers. Yet some nod approvingly at that headline— of course God listens to prayers and is involved in all of creation, so there must be supernatural forces at work on a football field. In between these two sets of reactions is a larger group that may not be willing to drag the divine down into the dirt of a playing field yet refuse to restrict the divine from doing so.
The headline of a survey released by the Public Religion Research Institute in mid-January “Half of American Fans See Supernatural forces at Play in Sports,” was sure to catch some attention. Eyes must have rolled at the ridiculous suggestion of God intervening in an event that has millionaires running around, trying to catch a piece of leather. Reggie White was either confused or calculated when he claimed that God told him to play for the Green Bay Packers. Yet some nod approvingly at that headline— of course God listens to prayers and is involved in all of creation, so there must be supernatural forces at work on a football field. In between these two sets of reactions is a larger group that may not be willing to drag the divine down into the dirt of a playing field yet refuse to restrict the divine from doing so.
Knowing that theologically crass questions, such as the one asked on the
pre-Super Bowl 2013 edition of Sports
Illustrated “Does God Care Who Wins the Super Bowl?” generate a range of
emotions (that in turn generate magazine sales), we shouldn’t be surprised that
the relationship between religion and sports elicits one’s own theology.
The unlikely rise of vocal Christian,
and then Denver Bronco, Tim Tebow, evoked a range of reactions two years ago
heretofore unseen. From David Brooks’ assertion
that the relationship between religion and sports comes down to the values that
are honored in players and fans alike to Chuck Klosterman’s claim that
Tebow “makes blind faith a viable option,” we see that removing religion
altogether from sports (as Ross Douthat’s “sophisticated Christian” attempts
to do) is difficult even for the hardened skeptic. Wherever you look, religious
ideals and practices find expression in all cultural phenomena, though we are
limiting ourselves to sports here.
More
to the point, a closer look at the PRRI survey tells a different story than the
one manufactured by Sports Illustrated. What leads the compiler of the evidence to
deduce that a majority of Americans believe that “supernatural forces” are
involved in sports? One, a sizeable percentage (25% of those surveyed) believes
that their team may be cursed. Does this mean that they really believe in
Satanic forces that stymied Bill Buckner in 1986? Or that God or gods are
actually cursing their team for some sin committed in the past, such as
disallowing a man to enter the 1947 World Series with a billy goat? When something
so strange or unnatural goes on with a team, perhaps we need religious language
to describe it. Two, 21% of all fans “perform pre-game rituals or game-time
rituals.”
Does everyone (or even a majority) in this group actually believe
that some supernatural force is taking account of what they are wearing, making
sure that it corresponds to the orthodox ritual, and then rewarding the fan’s
team accordingly? Did Michael Jordan believe that God would prevent the
basketball from going in the basket if he forgot to wear his North Carolina
uniform underneath his Chicago Bulls one? Of course not! Superstitious behavior
in sports is probably closer to the act of hedging a bet—a bet that is made
tongue-in-cheek; not Pascal’s Wager. To classify ritualistic or superstitious
behavior as believing in the intervention of supernatural forces is misleading
at best.
However, the survey shows that religion
and sports come together for many fans; just not in the ways that one might
think. A better way to think of this relationship is that ritual and belief are
concepts used by both religion and sports in order to aid in the understanding
of the workings of the world—making reference to same reality. Our book, Religion and Sports in American Culture (Routledge 2014), attempts to find
cross-fertilization between religion and sports around a variety of
traditionally religious concepts. Yet in order to avoid the sentiment that the
sacred and secular cannot be so intimate with each other, we examine the
relationship between them from an atypical, culturally-informed angle.
From
what we have mentioned in the popular media and the recorded surveys that
inundate us about how religious Americans remain, despite a profound process of
secularization that dates back to the Enlightenment, we have concluded that
“postsecularism” is probably the right conceptual description of contemporary
American culture and the behavior displayed on television screens and in the
privacy of our homes.
Postsecularism is a variant of postmodernism and thereby
captures the spirit of how secular and religious practices coexist. If at one
point it was believed that the secularization of American culture—including the
designation of sports as the American Religion—would overshadow if not overtake
any traces of religious belief and practice, it has become evident that this
process did not and perhaps cannot fully undermine the strength and popularity
of religion. Like postmodernism that acknowledges the hold that modernism still
has on the conceptual organization of our world—from an appeal to a cognitive
foundation and the criteria by which we judge everything—postsecularism
appreciates the “both and” logical connection between the secular and the
religious, between the divine and the mundane. Popular culture and its
expressions in popular media remind us of this (bewildering) reality.
And, of course, when sports and religion
meet on the television screen or the pages of the Internet, it shouldn’t be
surprising (with postsecularism in mind) that they inform each other—with
historical antecedents and verbal cues—rather that claim exclusive authority to
render judgment on God’s presence in the Super Bowl or the teams that are
blessed or cursed. In short, postsecularism has performed an invaluable
intellectual function in undermining a perceived (and real at times when
biology textbooks are contested in some school districts) struggle and
antagonism between the religious and the secular in contemporary culture.
In our book we attempt to systematically
survey seven sets of comparison between the religious (admittedly limited to
the Judeo-Christian Bible) and the sports-world responses to concepts such as
belief, sacrifice, work, relics, pilgrimages, competition, and redemption. In
each case, we provide the textual and theological underpinning of these
concepts, their centrality for the Judeo-Christian tradition (with obvious points of difference between the
two religious traditions), their significance in various athletic activities
and the ethos that underlies them, and the contemporary interpretations that
were undertaken by the likes of Augustine and Calvin on one end of the
spectrum, all the way to Karl Marx and Max Weber on the other.
What becomes clear
from our perspective is the fact that previous approaches to the relationship
between religion and sports—the historical, sociological, economic, and psychological/personal—fall
short of the profound appreciation that these two cultural phenomena aren’t
reducible to each other. Without a reductionist methodology at work, the idea
that the one (religion) is (logically or chronologically) prior to the other (sports)
makes little sense; likewise, the idea that one of these cultural institutions
(structurally or linguistically) depends on the other is too simplistic.
Instead, we offer a more nuanced and rich intermingling of these phenomena within
the context of contemporary capitalist culture. Once understood culturally and
in terms of the reality of postsecularism, certain apparent confusions or
puzzling survey results can be more fruitfully understood.
We can go to church
on Sunday early enough to be able to go to the stadium later; we can feel the
camaraderie of fellow congregants just as strongly as our fellow fans (and
vice-versa). We can love our team and its quarterback this Super Bowl without
having blasphemed Jesus. If anything, the one practice and set of rituals
informs the other, and we import from one context to the other almost
seamlessly. There is always room at the inn and all are welcome under our
expanded (revival and sports) tent.
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