Sunday Service: Football, Pluralism & Hope

What our obsession with the NFL reveals about pluralism, politics, and the absurd economics of fandom.

America has a state religion. It’s not Christianity, it’s football. The pews are couches, the hymns are fight songs, and the offering plate is $20 beers in souvenir cups. Stadiums are our cathedrals, jerseys our vestments, and the NFL schedule our liturgical calendar. We may never agree on the Constitution, but we’ll still agree the ref blew that call.

Pluralism in Pads

For all the talk about polarization, football proves we can still come together. Fans with nothing else in common will stand shoulder-to-shoulder screaming at a ref or high-fiving a stranger when a wide receiver breaks a tackle. You might hate your neighbor’s politics, but if he’s wearing the same jersey, he’s family for three hours. Football is pluralism with face paint — messy, loud, and surprisingly functional.

The Economics of Devotion

But worship isn’t free. Jerseys cost $300. Beers run $20. Stadium subsidies hit billions. We’ll riot if gas hits $5, but we’ll happily pay $18 for nachos in a plastic helmet — and billions more in stadium subsidies for billionaire owners. Call it trickle-up economics: from your wallet straight to their luxury box.

Football vs. Politics

The absurdity goes further. We tolerate blown calls, losing seasons, and quarterbacks who can’t throw a screen pass. We forgive players after scandals, coaches after meltdowns, and owners after fleecing the public. But in politics, compromise is heresy and mistakes are unforgivable. We’ll accept a rebuild year from our team but not a learning curve from our leaders.

The Culture War Tailgate

Of course, football is also where our culture wars tailgate. Anthem protests, military flyovers, halftime controversies, and celebrity crossovers all become fodder for outrage. Only in America can a kicker’s Instagram story, a halftime outfit, and a Bud Light can become matters of state. Football isn’t separate from politics — it’s the practice field for it.

Closing Sermon

So yes, America’s real religion is football. And maybe that’s not all bad. Because if we can kneel, stand, shout, pray, and argue under stadium lights — and still walk out arm in arm humming a fight song — there’s hope the republic can do the same under daylight. 

But let’s be honest: if America can forgive a quarterback’s interception not a politician’s compromise, maybe football really is our national religion — one where blind faith in the absurd keeps winning in overtime.