5.5 Reflections from Super Bowl 55

The Super Bowl is the largest annual religious convening in American common life. Two teams face off — and virtually the entire country glues itself to television while judging commercials and eating chili.

To call this entertainment is a slap in the weathered and desperate faces of true fans. As grown men in tights and face paint run out onto the field, we mirror their colors and prepare to stake our identities on the fate of our team. Sure, our churches have already arranged service times and fellowship gatherings to avoid Sunday football games. Many of us recognize the names of more football players than Bible characters. But the Super Bowl? This is everything. Life or death. Triumph or perish.

Football is no longer the great cultural unifier it was in generations past. National Football League ratings are declining. The sport is politicizing and politicized. The divisiveness of football, and many American sports, in some ways reflects the disunity of American common life. A pandemic is raging across our nation and world, deep political differences have cemented into our national ethos, and restlessness and rage permeate our society. And yet, the Super Bowl remains an institution, a cultural bulwark shaping part of shared American life.

Perhaps the Super Bowl is also an invitation to reflect on spiritual principles embedded in the ultimate game. Sermons in church run the gamut of transforming lives to inducing sleep. Coaches’ sideline rallying cries have us on the edge of our seats. In church, we are continuously invited into the mysterious harmony of judgement, forgiveness, and love. In football, we tie our destinies to the judgement of the referees with eternal grudges and unending condemnation. People say they hate religion because it has too many rules. But what about football? The sport’s regulations are perhaps more exacting than sitting through a traditional church service.

So, with Super Bowl LV just around the corner, football fans, and sports-lovers in general, have an opportunity to thoughtfully examine our intense excitement for and appreciation of the game. What can the biggest game in football teach us about the habits and practices of our faith?

1. Don’t be a fair-weather fan

When I first moved to America, the gateway into the community—or at least my middle school—was becoming a Steelers fan. I wonder what the gateway into church is. Baptism? Football fans endure glory, heartbreak, and everything in between. It’s fun to support a team when they’re winning. But an equally powerful lesson is to never give up hope, even in the dark, bleak midwinter. Hope deferred really can make the heart sick. As a Steelers fan, I was crushed when we lost our first playoff game this year to the Cleveland Browns, who won their first playoff game since 2002, breaking the longest playoff drought in the NFL. Browns fans were vindicated after years of depression and incompetence. For a true fan, support of a team does not fluctuate with wins or losses. We have faith that just maybe, this will be the year.

2020 was rough. 2021 seems to be rougher. Staying rooted in the midst of endless national grief, political bitterness, cultural injustice, and personal upheaval seems impossible. Following Jesus when we’re filled with apathy, confusion, sorrow, and doubt is hard. But we’re not called to be fair-weather followers. Jesus promises us our share of challenges, and our commitment and devotion to him should not waver in seasons of winter or desert. Unlike football, where victory is never guaranteed, Christian hope is not meant to remain hope. Because of the cross, our hopes for ultimate victory in Christ will be fulfilled. Our faith shall be made sight.

2. Go all in

We associate greatness with sacrifice. In the words of the movie The Replacements, “Pain heals. Chicks dig scars. Glory lasts forever.” Players are great because they give up something for the greater good. Their bodies wrack up injuries, they give up time with family, and they spend hours training, studying, living, breathing, and dying for victory. Similarly, faith is authenticated through sacrifice, because it proves you’re willing to go the distance.

Every Sunday, we forget about our problems. We set aside distractions. We focus on the game for momentary pleasure. But if I’m honest, some Sundays, I’m more excited to watch the Steelers play than I am to immerse myself in concentrating on a church sermon. Or being fully present as I receive the Eucharist. My life would be sad without football. But church is our spiritual everything. Following Jesus is the ultimate reality. And yet we must always guard ourselves against a culture that exalts fandom over faithfulness. I can’t help but ask myself, “What is my faith costing me?” And if it’s not costing me anything, then perhaps I’m a fair-weather follower, or even worse, an apathetic observer.

3. Our passions are created to be embodied

Jerseys, meatballs, sore throats, soda. We involve all our senses in willing our team to victory. The Super Bowl is the ultimate liturgical experience. We change what we wear, eat, see, smell, speak, and hear to mirror the affections and devotion for our team. Similarly, our spirituality is meant to be embodied, a phenomenon Christians refer to as liturgy. We submit our entire bodies before the Lord. We kneel in grateful submission. We walk in the beauty of creation. We are baptized and fell water rushing over us. We sing praises to the Lord. We hear the Bible read to us. We smell incense ascending to heaven. I want to be as intentional about involving in worship as I am in preparing to root for my team.

4. Honor the GOATs

Tampa Bay Buccaneers Quarterback Tom Brady is a Greatest Of All Time (GOAT). True fans revere the history of their team. We honor and pay respect to greatness. Yet how much time do we spend honoring the GOATS of our faith? How often do we pray and give thanks for our persecuted brothers and sisters? How often do we elevate and honor our prison ministries, homeless shelters, widow and orphan care, addiction counselors, missionaries, and so many other heroes who are working with the least of our society?

Moreover, fans regularly watch past film to analyze, discuss, and learn from our heroes. Today, the Average American Christian probably knows more about Brady than St. Augustine. Yes, we go to church and worship, but how much time do we spend reading church history? How often do we study the early church, Reformation, or other Christian history? In the words of St. John of Damascus, “The saints must be honored as friends of Christ and children and heirs of God. Let us carefully observe the manner of life of all the apostles, martyrs, ascetics, and just men who announced the coming of the Lord. And let us emulate their faith, charity, hope, zeal, life, patience under suffering, and perseverance unto death so that we may also share their crowns of glory.”

5. The game goes on (even when we think no one’s watching)

Our culture preaches instant gratification. We want to jump into a situation and fix a problem. We want to jump into a game and help our team win. But for every hour a football player spends in a game, they spent dozens of hours watching tape, eating nutritiously, working out, and game planning. Fans won’t see most of this. Similarly, most spiritual work goes unseen by the world.

In a culture where anonymity is growing increasingly foreign and less appreciated, solitude and work with God seems harder and harder to commit to. For me, the pandemic has exposed how shallow some of my spiritual practices are. It’s easy to scroll through the news and become angry over how awful a politician or leader is behaving. It’s hard to spend an hour with my Bible and ask God to expose sin and ugliness in my heart. It’s easy to criticize. It’s hard to be convicted. But there’s a sacredness to secrecy. There’s a beauty in cultivating a spiritual dimension for just me and the Lord. And all our spiritual practice is keenly observed by Him. As Liturgy of the Ordinary author Tish Harrison Warren describes, “I [We] often want to skip the boring, daily stuff to get to the thrill of an edgy faith. But it’s in the dailiness of the Christian faith—the making the bed, the doing the dishes, the praying for our enemies, the reading the Bible, the quiet, the small—that God’s transformation takes root and grows.”

5.5 Embrace joy

Football is fun. Faith is joyful. Joy doesn’t depend on if we’re winning or losing. The Psalmist describes this joy: “You make known to me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore” (Psalm 16:11). This Super Bowl will undoubtedly look different. We will congregate in much smaller numbers and the stands will be empty. But constant through it all is God’s unending, unbelievable love. So this Sunday, as we’re yelling maniacally at the TV and stuffing ourselves full of food, let’s not lose sight of this eternal joy. God became one of us. He died and defeated all our sin and shame. He is resurrected and is seated on the throne of Heaven and earth. He will come again to inaugurate a new creation, a Kingdom with no end. And the best part? If we’re willing, he’s always ready to live with and in us, to walk with us, to talk to us, and to love us. What a reason to live, laugh, and love.