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praying on those knees in public -- excellent column

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  • martinjg@flash.net
    http://salon.com/ Stop the holy showboating Listen up, jocks: God doesn t care if you score a touchdown. So do your praying in private, not in the end zone. -
    Message 1 of 1 , Sep 28, 2002
      http://salon.com/

      Stop the holy showboating
      Listen up, jocks: God doesn't care if you score a touchdown. So do your praying
      in private, not in the end zone.

      - - - - - - - - - - - -
      By Dan McGraw

      Sept. 28, 2002 | In the second week of the NFL season, Dallas Cowboy
      quarterback Quincy Carter heaved a 38-yard pass into the end zone. Cowboy
      receiver Joey Galloway was double-covered, but somehow outfought the defensive
      players for an amazing touchdown catch. In the middle of the field, in front of
      70,000 fans and millions watching on TV, Carter pointed to the heavens in
      acknowledgment of the Supreme Being's role as touchdown-maker. And in the
      post-game interview, commenting on his stellar performance, Carter gave "credit
      to God for giving me the innate ability to perform."

      It's kind of funny, but in Week 1 of the NFL season, against the expansion
      Houston Texans, Carter had the worst performance of his short career. Balls were
      bouncing at the feet of receivers and there were no touchdown passes, miraculous
      or not. And in the locker room after the game, God was never mentioned.

      In the realm of jock theology, God seems to show himself only to the winners.
      While many athletes do their own dances or gyrations to gain attention from the
      fans and TV cameras, many others seek their own spotlight through very public
      prayer on the field of play. It is a curious trend in the "hey-look-at-me" form
      of self-promotion that has infected pro sports in recent decades. And it goes
      beyond making a sign of the cross before taking a few swings at the plate. It's
      almost as if these jocks are saying: "God thinks I'm special, so you should
      too."

      It is impossible to watch a sporting event these days without some spiritual
      revival meeting breaking out. There are prayers before the game, prayers of
      thanksgiving for mighty athletic feats, kneeling in a circle after the game. We
      have prayers after touchdowns, heaven-pointing after home runs, signs of the
      cross before free throws. It seems most post-game interviews begin with the
      "thank the Lord" preamble.

      Much of this jock Christianity moves from the simple thanking of the Lord to
      spiritual showboating. There seems to be a feeling that God is consumed with the
      outcomes of sporting events, and blesses the believers with victories.
      Jacksonville Jaguar quarterback Mark Brunell said that the reason his team upset
      the Denver Broncos in the 1997 playoffs was because "God has blessed this team
      ... We have a bunch of guys who love the Lord, and he has been with us." This
      year, the Jags are predicted to stink. Is that because the guys have stopped
      loving the Lord, or because of the team's salary cap problems?

      Athletes often have what might be considered a kindergartner's mentality about
      religion, treating God as a good-luck charm. "I think that very often athletes
      seem to have a very simplistic and self-serving view of what God is and does,"
      sportscaster Bob Costas said in an interview with the San Diego Union-Tribune.
      "It makes no sense that a God who, for all human understanding, can appear
      indifferent to major pain and suffering on a large scale or the illness of a
      child, would intercede to help get a first down."

      The impression is given that the player's success is fused with God's will, and
      the God of sports games is a micro-managing deity. But even though the God of
      jocks pays attention to the most minute detail of the game, he doesn't bother
      with the losers. "If the player were consistent, he would point to skyward to
      mark the judgment of God after he got his shot blocked or struck out," says
      Robert Benne, director of the Roanoke College Center for Religion and Society.
      "I haven't seen that lately." Or as Philadelphia Daily News writer Jim Nolan
      succinctly put it in a column: "To fumble is human, to catch the winning TD,
      divine."

      So let's do something about this. In the name of metaphysical neutrality, in the
      quest to stamp out spiritual fakery, I would implore the commissioners of the
      sports world to ban prayer on the field of play. No kneeling, no
      heaven-pointing. The sports leagues already ban taunting. What taunt could be
      worse than saying to your opponent that your God is more powerful than his?

      I am not suggesting this on a whim. I know that sports and prayer have been
      conjoined for thousands of years. The Mayans had a basketball-type of game 4,000
      years ago -- played in the temple compound and officiated by temple priests --
      that concluded with the losing captain being ritually sacrificed. (You think
      those captains weren't praying for the ball to go through the hoop?) White Sox
      baseball player and evangelist Billy Sunday would preach about the evils of
      drink before games in the late 19th century. Notre Dame hitched its football
      team to the legend of "Touchdown Jesus," a mosaic built on a campus building in
      the 1960s that appears as though the Lord is signaling a touchdown. In the '70s,
      we started seeing a man on TV in a rainbow wig with his John 3:16 banner.

      But now we have athletes that seem to think that prayer might be a good public
      relations gimmick, done more for the TV cameras than anything else. And it is
      also almost entirely evangelical Christian in nature, very narrow and exclusive
      in its focus. Jewish athletes like Shawn Green, the Dodgers' right fielder, have
      quietly asked for religious holidays off, just as the team's Hall of Fame
      pitcher, Sandy Koufax, did in an era earlier, but we don't see Jewish athletes
      draping a tallis over their uniforms. We might see Roman Catholics
      occasionally making the sign of the cross at the plate, but we don't see them
      praying the rosary on the bench to help start a rally. Muslim boxers don't kneel
      and face Mecca after they knock the crap out of someone.

      Wary of spiritual showboating, the National Collegiate Athletic Association
      tried to ban prayer from its sports in 1995, but changed its policy after being
      sued by the Rev. Jerry Falwell's Liberty University. The new policy is a comical
      but predictable result of lawyers delving into spiritual matters. "Players may
      cross themselves without drawing attention to themselves," the NCAA policy
      states. "It is also permissible for them to kneel momentarily at the conclusion
      of play, if, in the judgment of the official, the act is spontaneous and not in
      the nature of a pose."

      The NFL has its taunting rule, but it is even more subjective. Individual
      celebrations are permitted as long as there is no taunting, such as spiking the
      football in the opponent's face. "Choreographed demonstrations by two or more
      players" will be reviewed by the league, the rule says. But there is nothing in
      the rules to prohibit "spiritual spiking."

      I asked NFL spokesman Greg Aiello if the league would consider legislating
      against end-zone prayer. He laughed and said it is the individual's right to
      express himself. I then asked him how tolerant the league would be of other
      religious demonstrations. For example, would the league permit a Santerian to
      sacrifice a chicken after a touchdown?

      "I think that would be unnecessary roughness," Aiello joked. "Fifteen-yard
      penalty."

      "What about snake handlers?" I asked.

      "Don't the Oakland Raiders' fans already do that?" he answered.

      OK, I was being a smartass, and so was Aiello. But in the larger sense, the
      question of which religion a league endorses is a serious one. Sports is the
      American idiom. Given our melting-pot culture, sports is the "civil surrogate"
      for a common American religion, as the late baseball commissioner A. Bartlett
      Giamatti once observed. After the 9/11 tragedy, Christians and Jews and Hindus
      and Moslems all moved into our sports cathedrals to sing "God Bless America."

      I realize the American Civil Liberties Union and the Christian Coalition would
      be joined together on any prayer ban, and would probably win on the grounds of
      freedom of expression. But couldn't the teams and leagues put some brakes on all
      the posturing prayer, maybe moving it to the sideline? Couldn't the networks
      quit showing it and dwelling on it? And more importantly, couldn't some of the
      leading clerics in this country explain to the athletes that God does not really
      care whether or not they get a first down?

      It is curious that athletes feel the need to pray more so than, say,
      accountants. I know of no accountants who point to the heavens after they
      balance their ledgers. I do not kneel after writing a good sentence.

      Maybe Brunell and Carter and the other heaven-pointers and end-zone kneelers
      should get some advice from the same Lord they are aligning themselves with on
      the field of play. In Matthew 6:5-6, Jesus explains how to pray: "And when you
      pray, do not imitate the hypocrites; they love to say their prayers standing up
      in the synagogues and at the street corners for people to see them. In truth, I
      tell you, they have had their reward. But when you pray, go to your private
      room, shut yourself in, and pray so to your Father who is in that secret place,
      and your Father who sees all that is done in secret will reward you."

      So please, all of you jocks who feel the need to pray in front of 70,000 people
      and millions more on TV, do as the scripture tells you. Pray in private. We all
      know how God has blessed you and how wonderful you are. But God does not care if
      you score a touchdown. He does not care if you sack the quarterback. And maybe,
      just maybe, this God thinks all of us are special, not just our Sunday
      gladiators.

      - - - - - - - - - - - -

      About the writer
      Dan McGraw is a writer living in Fort
      Worth, Texas. His memoir, "First and
      Last Seasons: A Father, A Son, and
      Sunday Afternoon Football" was
      published in 2000 by Doubleday.

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