Amazin'

I have always been drawn to the underdog.  I grew up a Mets’ fan and that has meant losing more often than not.  If you know me well, you know that I have been a sports fanatic.  Recently, I am working to put sports into a more reasonable priority.  When your team wins, sports offer a feeling that is hard to beat, especially if it is unexpected.  The ‘69 Mets are a classic example - a team that had finished no higher than 9th out of 10 teams in its first seven years suddenly wins the World Series.  One might have said we’d walk on the moon before the Mets won a championship, and you’d have been right, but only by a few months.

I suggest that what sports offers is illusory.  First, the feeling of belonging to the winning team is not real.  “We” do not win or lose.  The Mets don’t really care if I’m there or not, except for how much money I spend at the park or on jerseys and hats.  Second, the “New York” Mets is illusory.  The only thing “New York” about the Mets is where their ballpark is located.  Of the 2025 Mets, only one of the forty players on the Mets is from within 1000 miles of New York.  And third, even if your favorite team wins a championship, it is fleeting at best.  The day after, every sports page has an article asking who will win next year.  The vast majority of people have trouble remembering who won last year, much less, ten years ago.  

But there is an immediate connection you can make with anyone the moment you find out you both are fans of the same team.  And rooting for your team with your family and friends creates real memories.  Daniel Stern’s character in City Slickers said that when he and his father fought about everything, they could still talk baseball.  That was real, he said, and

even though his character was fictional, I agree with him.  When I meet another Mets’ fan, I instantly know I can be friends with that person.  But in a few questions, I can tell if the person I just met happens to have a Mets hat or if they spend an inordinate amount of time dissecting the Mets’ roster and their chances at finally ending a forty-year championship drought (as if, by spending that time and energy, we can help them in this quest).  Be that as it may, the memories I have watching the Mets with my father, my friends and family are some of my most treasured.

So why can't the church create the same experience?  Our “champion” defeated Death in perhaps the greatest underdog story of all time.  But when I meet another Christian, I instantly feel I need to find out what kind of Christian I’m talking to.  Yes, I always enjoy going to church.  And I usually learn something and/or am challenged in some way.  Equating it to a sports season, every Christmas and Easter, I am amazed at what God did and is doing.  Maybe the analogy works somewhat better than I thought, because I now rarely watch a regular season Mets game.  I just check the box scores and the standings to see how “we” are doing.  Is that the same way the Christmas and Easter Christians feel about their church attendance?  They’re just showing up for the playoffs?  

What should going to church be like?  First, I think, acceptance.  Love and forgiveness.  Letting the people around you know you are glad they are there too - regardless of who they are, who they vote for politically, what sports team they root for.  And regardless of race, wealth, or age, or whatever sin they may have committed or are committing.  If we start by judging each other, we have already lost.  In the Citi Field stands, all that matters is showing up and rooting for the Mets.  Why is Church so very different?

Like a sports team only (mostly) cares about how many people show up and how much money they spend, all churches care about how many people come every week and how much money they collect, at least a little.  If we start saying, “I can’t worship next to someone who believes this or has done that” we get a little further away from God.  If we remember what he has forgiven us for, it should be impossible to say “I can’t worship next to” that person.  I am not saying we shouldn’t look for and hold onto the Truth.  But if I was cast out for some of the things I have done, who knows where I would be now? 

So what am I saying? First, church should be as accepting as sports teams are. Second, sports should be much less important that we make them. They offer much that is illusory. They do offer a glimpse of what my soul longs for though: to be included, to feel like I am part of something bigger than myself, to connect with one another, to be glad to see the other person filling the stands - er, pews - even if I think they're not a real fan, and to celebrate the hope that somehow springs eternal in the heart of every Mets' fan (despite 40 years of experience to the contrary) and should - MUST - spring in the heart of every Christian.

Because, while sports are not really "we", there is, or should be, a powerful beauty to the universality of faith. While it is exciting that sports can bring us together and inspire us, they also separate us (damn those Yankees!) and let us down (wait 'til next year). And while sports victory is fleeting, Jesus' is eternal. The battle is already won. Our champion is calling us up onto the dais to celebrate.