Following James K.A. Smith's reading of cultural liturgies -- i.e., identifying those things everywhere around us that form us without us necessarily understanding the formative practices that we're involving ourselves in (e.g., see Smith's reading of a shopping mall in Desiring the Kingdom) -- I thought I'd meditate on the Liturgy of the Big Game Party, a liturgy that most of us would have experienced in some form or other last night.
And so an experiment of the imagination:
A hypothetical man, let's call him Oliver, walks into his friend's house. Upon entering he is greeted by his friend, who expresses his joy to see him and offers him a drink. "We'll be grilling out on the porch in about half-an-hour," his friend says cheerfully. Oliver walks into the house where he finds a number of people already in attendance. "Who've you got?" one stranger asks. Oliver, a bit unsure of the night's outcome, chuckles and says, "I don't know. What do you think?" The stranger replies, "It's easily gotta be Team X because they have the best rush defense in the league, and if Team Y can't run the ball, they don't stand a chance."
Immediately, an argument breaks out. A man wearing a novelty dairy product hat on his head says matter-of-factly, "Team Y can't lose because they're the best. Otherwise, my life would be a waste of time."
A woman wearing Team X's jersey replies sharply, "Ha! Got news for ya, your life is a waste if you think Team Y is going to win. At least you've got the commercials to look forward to."
Party attendees begin to divide into three groups: Team X supporters, Team Y supporters, and folks, like Oliver, who are just there to support the host of the party.
The host of the party walks into the room, unaware of the growing hostility between X and Y supporters, and announces that the grill is fired up if anyone wanted to join him on the porch. His announcement went by largely unnoticed.
The man in the novelty dairy product hat and the woman in the jersey have consolidated power, and are leading the two groups in chants and hymns about their own teams. Like priests they tell their flock about the virtues of their respective team and the evils of the opposing team.
Oliver, a bit uncomfortable with the hostilities, joins his friend outside at the grill. "It's too cold to be grilling out for us," Oliver says. His friend just smiles. Oliver continues, "Things are getting a bit heated in there, aren't they?"
His friend replies, "Yeah, isn't it great!"
Oliver says, "It seems kind of mean-spirited."
His friend looks at him a bit puzzled and explains, "Look man, is this your first Big Game Party? If people don't support their teams, then it's no fun at all. Seemingly mean-spirited jabs are just part of the experience, part of the fun."
Standing on the cold porch, Oliver looked into the house. Maybe he had misread the situation. Maybe it was just people having fun. Oliver was unconvinced. "Look at them," Oliver said to his host, "They actually look as if they're going to start throwing things at one another."
"Well you can't hear what they're saying. Those angered faces are no-doubt shouting good natured insults at each other."
"No matter what they're saying, they look genuinely upset with each other. If I were you, I'd go move my breakables out of the room."
Oliver's friend looked up from the grill, "Ah, that's just Jim and Lisa. They're passionate about their teams. Jim is went to school in the state where novelty dairy product hats are popular and Lisa grew up in that city with the ketchup. So they're especially invested in this game."
"But they look as if they want to beat each other with baseball bats."
"Look, I'll bring the food in, and all will be well."
And sure enough, a few minutes later Oliver helped his friend bring in the meat and vegetables from the grill and everyone stopped chanting and shouting. They gathered around the table and ate as friends. In fact Jim and Lisa sat beside one another and discussed what each team should do if they wanted to win. "How can this be?" Oliver wondered to himself. His friend and host seemed to discern the question from the look on Oliver's face and said, "Hey, we're all friends here. Team allegiances are not greater than our friendship. The great thing about tonight is that the game matters to people, but it doesn't have to get personal. Jim and Lisa are actual fans of these teams, but everyone else likes the local team, who didn't even make the playoffs. They just get caught up in Jim and Lisa's excitement."
Oliver looked at his friend with shock and said through a half-smile, "How'd you know what I was thinking?" His friend just laughed. Then Oliver admitted, "They seemed genuinely angry a few minutes ago. I was really uncomfortable."
"Don't worry about. It's all done in good humor." His friend advised.
After about an hour had passed, everyone had finished the host's meal and had enjoyed a store bought novelty cake made into the shape of a football, but they remained around the table talking about the Game and their own reasons about why they love of football. No one cared about the pre-game speculation though the TV was on in the other room. For the time being, everyone was enjoying each other's company, sitting around the table.
Suddenly, the monotonous babbling coming from the TV in the other room was replaced by a rather regal sounding announcement: "Please rise as we honor America with the singing of our national anthem."
Jim looked at his watch, then at those around the table and declared, "It's starting." Most of the people around the table ran into the other room to honor America. Some, like Oliver and his friend, were less pious and finished their conversations at the table. Oliver and his friend had been discussing the ways that football could be compared to a pitched military battle. However, Oliver, his friend, and the last few remaining people at the table soon moseyed into the living room, where those who had run in to hear the national anthem stood with their mouths open in shock.
"How could they let this happen?" one said. And another following, "She should be embarrassed and ashamed." And yet another, "She's probably not even a real citizen with a name like that."
"What's going on?" Oliver's friend asked.
"She just butchered our anthem."
"Oh well. Let's not dwell on it. It's time for the game!" the host said as he grabbed a handful of corn chips from the coffee table.
"No! The authority that legislates professional football in America should be ashamed of itself for picking her to sing our national anthem! I'm so angry I can hardly see straight. I've got to do something!" And with that the angry party-goer pulled out his smart phone and chirped his displeasure to the world on a social-media website. After he finished, the party-goer exclaimed, "There! That'll show 'em."
Oliver and his friend looked at each other. Oliver was especially put-out with the whole situation. He leaned over into his friends ear and whispered, "The hostility is already starting again." His friend replied, "Oh, that's just Pierre. Don't worry about him."
A few minutes later, the game kicked off. And immediately Jim and Lisa start bickering and leading their fellow supporters-for-the-night in chants of praise for their team. This went on, sporadically, throughout the first half. Oliver couldn't help but wonder how people who got along so well at the table could leave the dinning room and shout at each other with what seemed to be genuine hate -- even though his friend continued to assure him that it was "all in good fun."
At half-time, Oliver needed some air, so he went out on the porch. He thought about how angry everyone had looked earlier and how friendly they looked over the perfect meal that his friend had cooked. He thought about how angry they got as soon as, well, actually before the ball was kicked off. The TV seemed to the be locus of bitter anger on this night.
With this thought, Oliver looked back into the living room and saw everyone up and dancing like idiots. "What the hell?" Oliver asked himself exasperatedly. He went back in and asked the nearest person, "What the hell's going on?"
"Dude! This is the most epic half-time show ever."
Oliver rolled his eyes and sat down on the couch next to Lisa, who'd taken a tumble while dancing along to the half-time show. Seeing her rub her ankle, Oliver asked, "Are you okay?" Lisa nodded and smiled, "Just got carried away, that's all."
"Well it seems people are in better spirits now." Oliver said with a wry smile on his face.
"Yeah, this his been a good break from the game. It's not so serious, you know?"
Oliver replied, saying that he understood.
The two of them sat on the couch until Lisa asked, "What've you thought of the commercials?"
"They've been alright." Oliver replied, trying not to betray his disdain for multi-million dollar Big Game commercials.
"Are you kidding? They've been fantastic! Especially that one for that generic American lager. It makes me want to go buy a case after the game."
Now Oliver was, by his own admission, a snob when it came to beer. "Really?" He asked. "That stuff sort of tastes like piss-water."
"Yeah. But it's cheap and the people that make it are really funny. Well, they at least have good marketing. You have to appreciate that."
"Do I? I don't think clever commercials should make us more prone to buying lower quality stuff."
"Oh Oliver," Lisa said in a hushed tone, "You're too serious. ...Wanna dance?"
"Sure."
So Oliver let his hair down, so to speak, for a few minutes. But the half-time show was nearly over, and after one of the popular quartet singers sang a song with a legendary guitarist from an old, generic rock band, the show quickly came to an end.
"See? That was fun. You should be enjoying yourself like everyone else, Oliver."
Oliver was not so sure. It was indeed fun, but was this an atmosphere to enjoy?
"If it was like this the whole night, it would be more enjoyable." Oliver told Lisa as folks made their way back to their respective side's side of the room.
Jim's team, Team Y, began the second-half with the lead. So far his life was looking up for the night. But the novelty dairy product wearing contingent quickly began to lose faith as Team X rallied back in the third quarter. "Oh snap!" Lisa exclaimed, "Team Y are such dairy processing idiots. They can't even stop our running back."
To this, Jim took exception, he replied in anger about how Lisa practiced the world's oldest profession but probably didn't make much money, and he then said something rather vulgar about everyone who liked Team X.
Immediately, the host interjects, "Come on now, it's just a game."
Jim and Lisa answered in unison, "Shut up!"
Oliver's friend began to sense what Oliver had sensed all along: certain parts of the night were being more formative than others.
Thankfully, the game was almost over, the fourth quarter was underway. Team Y was winning, but only by the skin of their teeth. Momentum in the game had gone back and forth since the half. Team X cut the deficit with under ten minutes left in the game.
"Your boys are falling apart, Jim." Lisa said in a sarcastic tone.
"You're still losing by three. We're fine."
The game continued to steam-roll towards the finish. Team Y got the ball and kicked a field goal with just over two minutes left. "Oh, that's gotta hurt." Jim rubbed salt in the wound.
With Team Y leading by six, the horn sounded on the end of the game. Oliver's friend quickly suggested everyone join him in the kitchen for a few final drinks. "We can talk about how we enjoyed the party."
But before the naive host could finish his invitation, the tension boiled over. Jim let fly with a victory dance across the room while at the same time flashing Lisa two uncouth hand gestures.
Lisa lost it. She threw what remained of her drink on Jim, shouted something about how Team X won even though they lost, and stormed out of the house. Jim, taking it all in stride, provided a few more "friendly" insults as she exited.
Oliver's friend was brokenhearted. He'd just wanted to get a few friends together for a fun night. The only solace Oliver could offer was an affirmation that at least he tried.
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