A conservative Mennonite Church in our area prohibits members from participating in “organized contesting ball teams.” Those who do such things are guilty of “participating in the world’s methods of pleasure-seeking.”
In his recent column in the New York Times, David Brooks appeared sympathetic to this viewpoint. In The Jeremy Lin Problem, Brooks suggested that since the “moral universe of modern sport is oriented around victory and supremacy” and the “sports hero tries to perform great deeds in order to win glory and fame,” the world of sports conflicts with the primary concerns of religion. Brooks goes as far to say that, “the two moral universes are not reconcilable.”
I should mention that I’ve been reading David Brooks for many years. I usually appreciate his articulate, well-thought analysis. But I found his column about New York Knicks player, Jeremy Lin, and his thoughts about sports conflicting with the primary concerns of religion, both appealing and difficult. Perhaps I feel this way because I know that Brooks is partly if not largely correct.
We observe the opposite of humility in the world of sports (as in the rest of the world and in our own hearts) far too much. But competitive settings seem especially conducive to a narrative conflicting with religion. On this, Brooks correctly notes that the ”religious ethos is about redemption, self-abnegation and surrender to God.” And, “You have to be willing to lose yourself in order to find yourself; to gain everything you have to be willing to give up everything; the last shall be first; it’s not about you.” *
The Apostle Paul wrote:
“think of what you were when you were called. Not many of you were wise by human standards; not many were influential; not many were of noble birth. But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong. God chose the lowly things of this world and the despised things—and the things that are not—to nullify the things that are, so that no one may boast before him” (I Corinthians 1:26-29).
It’s the “partly right” about Brooks’ column that causes my struggle. If the Apostle had dropped the “m” from “many,” I would concede. Yet notable exceptions are wonderful to observe and serve a special (exceptional) purpose. Perhaps this is partly what draws such unusual amounts of admiration to the Tebows and Lins of sports. Perhaps deep down, we long to believe in the possibility of living the narrative of humility in the sphere of greatness.
I certainly hope we can be generous enough not to view every act of celebration on field or court as promotion of the self-exalting narrative of glory and fame. Let’s not try to read too much into such moments. And let’s remind ourselves that motives are difficult to discern — our own — much more those of others.
I am grateful that Brooks used his high-profile standing as a columnist to stir conversation on this subject. But I differ with him in my belief that our best teacher on these matters is Jesus Christ. He was the pure and perfect convergence of the morality of majesty and the morality of humility. He called his followers to live between two tensions:
Matthew 5:16 “let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.”
Matthew 6:1 ““Be careful not to practice your righteousness in front of others to be seen by them.”
“You call me ‘Teacher’ and ‘Lord,’ and rightly so, for that is what I am. Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet. I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you.” (John 13:13-15, emphasis mine).
“Humble yourselves, therefore, under God’s mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time” (I Peter 5:6)
