God of the Pigskin

 January 23, 2023

I’m probably going to be pilloried for tonight’s musings, but you know the saying about fools rushing in…

Yesterday, Western New York’s darlings of the gridiron simply collapsed on the field, going down in were it not for the snow, flaming defeat. I’m glad to have watched the game from the warmth of my home, if only to avoid the potential road rage of alcohol fueled, deflated fans, stuck in traffic in a blizzard at night. Thankfully, there were no reports of accidents in the aftermath of the debacle.

I must say up front that I’m not much of a football fan. There’s too much standing around, waiting for the snap and a few seconds of frenzied activity followed by more standing around. That being said, if I’m going to root for a team, it will be the Bills. Lord knows, we are a patient people here in this part of the state. Fans—REAL fans will dutifully buy tickets and show up next year, tentatively hopeful that their dreams won’t be dashed again.

I know people who have transformed basement rooms into Bills Mafia shrines, replete with big screen TV, memorabilia, and the iconic Bills buffalo on the wall. I use the word “shrine” deliberately; it’s not merely a game for many. It’s a religion. Every conversation is about the game, the players, the stats. Entire fall and winter calendars revolve around the game schedules. Peoples’ demeanor, their delight or depression is tied to the outcome of the game. On Sunday morning, many a fan will give lip service to the Lord God Almighty before bowing that evening before the altar of the Lord God of Pigskin.

I’ve often wondered how many fans who sit through three hours of shivering in a blizzard, screaming like teenage girls in the presence of the latest rock star, would sit through a single hour in Christian worship. I must admit however, that most of what the church offers as worship can’t hold a candle to the excitement and energy of a Bills game, so maybe the comparison is more a measure of the blandness of most of what passes for worship than it is an indictment of the secular worship at the altar of the stadium. Maybe we in the church need to “up our game.” After all, the weekly conflict between light and darkness, good and evil, heaven and hell shouldn’t be dull and boring.

So on the one hand, I’m not surprised at the excitement generated by the game, but am at times a bit ashamed at what we offer in its place. On the other hand, I’m also not surprised at the failure of a football game to offer lasting satisfaction. Even should we some day win the Super Bowl, the very next day people have to go back to work or school, the world will have taken one more spin on its axis, and the disillusionment of life will set in once more. No matter how hyped up we get, nothing in this world is eternal, and nothing apart from Jesus Christ can fully satisfy the longing of the human heart. Here in Bills country, this should be an easy sell, but we human beings have a stubborn tendency to worship false gods, no matter how many times they let us down. Maybe this is the year we’ll learn. I would like to hope so.