By Ann Fontaine
It begins like every Sunday – choosing the appropriate clothing, gathering the needed materials, rounding up those who believe, starting the car or getting on the transit. Anticipation builds. The ritual commences.
The Super Bowl is the great liturgy of the United States of America and for many around the world. It binds us together across the usual divides of class and race, even if you are among those who never watch football. Like our liturgies of the church it has its own rhythms and order. Good and evil contend for our allegiances. We hear stories of fall and redemption: the player who overcame great odds to become a professional, talent wasted and then reclaimed. We sing songs of praise and victory. Churches plan their annual meetings so they do not fall on this festival day. Bishops get into the spirit of the day making friendly bets with one another.
The Packer are the heartland team – the last community owned, non-profit team in professional American football. They dropped an aging, yet one of the most talented quarterbacks in history, and counted on youth and a quarterback who returned from life threatening concussions.
The Steeler represent a town who once proudly created the products to grow a country and its industries that now seems left behind in globalization. They are led by a flawed quarterback who represents redemption from sin through good works. They have won more Super Bowls than any other team and are known for legendary teams.
Even the commercials are legendary. The most memorable ones call to our best selves. The Donkey who joins the Cydesdale Team. The oboe-playing grocery clerk who finds a dream he did not even know he had. The child who is noticed by his hero. Cat herding, which everyone remembers for the content but can’t remember the company it advertised. We look forward to seeing these vignettes each year – with some going viral on youtube and Facebook or recalled for years with a word or phrase. We eagerly await this years’ winners.
There are even advantages for “sports atheists,” who can shop without crowds on Super Bowl Sunday. They can count on time alone if the rest of their friends and family are fans. They are usually not harassed about their lack of interest though they may find themselves with nothing to say at parties.
Seriously, what can we learn about liturgy and community from events like the Super Bowl. Or do church and fandom have nothing in common?
And of course a most important question – which team will win?
The Rev. Ann Fontaine, Diocese of Wyoming, keeps what the tide brings in. She is the author of Streams of Mercy: a meditative commentary on the Bible.