The Theology of Winning the Super Bowl

For some Christians, it was a made-for-TV moment.

Just minutes after leading his team to the Super Bowl championship, Eagles coach (and former Brett Favre clipboard holder) Doug Pederson took the microphone to address the 103.4 million viewers on TV, and the 65,000+ fans at US Bank Stadium, in a real-life "Yo, Adrian" speech.

When asked to explain his success over the favored Patriots, Pederson appeared to give credit to his Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. It was the first of the evening's two curtain calls for Jesus of Nazareth, the later coming from Super Bowl MVP Nick Foles. For Foles, Pederson, and some Christians watching the game, the Eagles' victory was about more than a better-late-than-never pass rush, and more than former Badger Corey Clement's pass catching heroics. The game was a sign that God had acted on behalf of the team from Philadelphia, answering the prayers of the City of Brotherly Love while dismissing the Hail Mary of the ball deflaters from just north of Connecticut. 

The idea that the Eagles won the Super Bowl because God was on their side is perhaps a minority view point, but such an understanding of "Super Bowl theology" is the direct result of a prevalent American religious ideology that equates faith with worldly success. The greater one's faith, the better their outcomes, the more one loves God, the more touchdowns they will throw (and catch!) against the Patriots.


Many believed that the Eagles' victory had something to do with Foles' and Pederson's faith in God. Some went as far to say that God directly intervened to hand the Eagles the Lombardi Trophy because of the faith of these two men (though apparently God first handed the trophy to Roger Goodell, who was no doubt relieved to avoid another super booing). On National Chip-Dip-Hangover Day, they alleged a causal relationship between faith and football success. Even former Michael Vick wrangler Tony Dungy (who Keith Olberman once rightly called the worst man in sports) suggested a connection between the depth of Foles' faith and his would-be Super Bowl win. 

So, what is the theology of winning the Super Bowl? Is it possible that the Eagles, led by a devout coach/quarterback combo, won the game as a reward for their Christian faith?

This is exactly the type of question that would have triggered a Martin Luther temper tantrum. Though he lived centuries before the invention of comment sections and social media, I can only imagine him having a caustic explosion of defamatory and vulgar comments on Facebook, were he still around today. Luther frequently harangued the causal connection between faith and worldly success and faith, and given his influence on American Protestantism, his writing ought to be considered with this question. It would also be necessary to think about what the Gospel narratives suggest about the consequences (positive or negative) of the life of faith as exemplified through Jesus, the one to whom be all glory, and honor, and for many, all Super Bowl championships. In this article, we will look at John's "Passion" narratives - Christ's last moments with his disciples, his arrest, and his crucifixion.

Martin Luther famously and frequently wrote about the "theology of the cross," (in Latin, Theologia Crucis), the idea that it is Christ's death on the cross that informs our understanding of God's action in the world. It is the cross of Jesus that reveals God's nature, while subsequently shaping what it means to live the Christian life.

The theology of the cross is partially derived from the Gospel writers' overwhelming emphasis on the crucifixion: over one-third of the content in Gospel texts describe the death of Jesus, while all four Gospels depict a remarkably consistent Passion narrative. If there is one thing that the early church agreed on, it was that Jesus died, on the cross, and that his death was theologically significant in informing what it means to live the Christian life.

This is shown quite clearly through The Gospel of John, where the 13th through the 19th chapters address the last hours of Jesus' life. Jesus' last hours are a microcosm for the Christian life: a way of being based on humble service to the neighbor, that can only come into conflict with the prevailing powers of the world. Jesus' death on the cross is immediately preceded by his washing the feet of his disciples, instructing them to serve others just as Jesus has served them (John 13:1-20).

It is no coincidence that the authors of John immediately turn the page from humble service via foot washing to arrest, a show trial, and a public execution. Servanthood and humility are ways of being that threaten those in power, as they are acts of radical equality. Jesus shows that the way of the servant is the most politically subversive act in a world of Caesars. Pontius Pilate, the Roman authority acting out the wishes of the political and religious powers, has no choice but to punish and destroy this challenge to Roman absolutism.

For Luther, the cross of Christ is not just an atoning sacrifice for sin, as some Christians might suggest, but a foretelling of the challenges and struggles one will inevitably encounter in seeking to fulfill Christ's command of humble service. For this reason, Luther railed against the "theology of glory," (theologia gloriae) the idea that humans can do "good" apart from God - or to paraphrase, the idea that humans can achieve success through following Jesus.

If Christian faith leads to Christian service, and Christian service puts us on the road to the cross via subversion of the worldly powers, than it is folly to contend that Christian faith can lead to worldly success. If anything, the Biblical witness suggests the opposite. The theology that faith begets Super Bowl rings and trips to Disney World is insidious nonsense. It is a marketing ploy, not a theology, grounded in the church's widespread desire to fill pews and coffers.

I am all for winning Super Bowl championships. I wish the Packers would win more than one title with their second consecutive "greatest quarterback of all time." If the Packers do manage to right the proverbial ship and hoist the Lombardi Trophy next February, it will have nothing to do with Aaron Rodgers' religiosity, and everything to do with firing Dom Capers successful coaching, game planning, and talent development. Jesus is not out there picking Super Bowl MVPs. He is likely far more concerned with solidarity, presence among, and love towards those oppressed by Super Bowl Sundays. Doug Pederson might give him a shout-out from the postgame podium, but this was a game, like all other games, where there were no angels in the end-zone.


Ryan Panzer is a theological thinker, coffee drinker, corporate trainer, and Badger/Packer football fan. He does not miss Dom Capers. Comments, questions, criticisms, and rants about the Packer defense can be sent via Twitter to @ryanpanzer. 

Comments

  1. If I lose at tennis (which I always do), does it mean I could have prayed better, been more righteous, or repented more fully?

    Within Superbowl theology, am I less loved because I stink at tennis, or do I stink at tennis because I'm less loved?

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    1. No matter what you think of the theology, part of the reason you stink at tennis is because you don't practice enough and you lack the natural athletic talent of a Roger Federer. Theologians of the cross (ie, Luther) would suggest that the reasons for your tennis struggles start and end there (curiously, if your stinking at tennis causes you to suffer, then Jesus is amongst you).

      Doug Pederson and Tony Dungy would agree that you have to practice more, but they would also suggest that had you prayed better you might have been able to hit a faster serve. I'm sure they could send you a Joel Osteen sermon about it!

      Thanks for the comment, Ben!

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