|
“The great struggle in this world is not between good and evil, but between differing ideas of good” – some profound dead guy
“Ned, have you thought about any of the other major religions? They’re all pretty much the same” – Reverend Lovejoy, The Simpsons
I don’t have a problem with organized religion. Really, I don’t. After all, morality has been inextricably intertwined with the spiritual ever since the dawn of society, or at least that of dissent, and anything that continues to encourage love, however convolutedly, is a welcome facet of the human condition. I don’t care if it’s Jesus, Buddha, or Nargpulgorg, Eater Of Souls, who keeps you from throttling the half-wit at the drive-thru window, as long as something does. Everyone needs something to believe in, a wise man with poofy hair and makeup once said on a Poison record, and if it fulfills a person to believe that his or her parents’ favorite omnipotent entity is indeed The Big One, then more power to ‘em.
But the power of faith, while inspiring many to joy and compassion, can also induce division, judgment and bloodshed. Much of the warfare and genocide that has occurred over the course of history can be boiled down to a theological difference of opinion. From one Cro-Magnon tribe’s superstitious fear of another’s mastery of fire, all the way up to contemporary Pro-Life zealots taking pot shots at abortion clinic doctors, religion has always played a large and frightening role in mankind’s legacy of violence. This is not to say that belief in an all-powerful Creator, by nature, unwaveringly leads to slaughter. The men who blow physicians away in the name of life are nut jobs. Of course they are. Hitler was a nut job, too. Sometimes nut jobs have rifles. Sometimes they have armies. The point is, as religious fervor sometimes leads to inner peace and love, if not necessarily understanding, so does it sometimes lead to loss of life on a global scale.
It’s kind of a yin-and-yang thing, then, isn’t it? Two sides to every coin, two halves to every whole; it would seem that if you want to live secure in the knowledge that your soul will be rewarded with an eternal shower of grace, you’re gonna have to live with the occasional righteous homicide or worldwide butchering.
Well, what if we didn’t have to?
What if we could get all of the perks of Holy favor, the forgiveness, the everlasting Love, the really bad rock music, and so forth, without all that messy death in the name of Whomever? What if we could repeatedly settle religious differences vicariously, by proxy, through some form of non-lethal combative confrontation? One that society at large already believes in, nay, worships, with near-spiritual enthusiasm to begin with?
Like professional sports, for instance.
It would have to be either football or hockey, those games being the ones that most closely resemble actual warfare. For the sake of argument, and that of the south, where the ratio of righteous zealot to hockey fan is hopelessly one-sided, we’ll go with football. The National Football League would be modified so that, instead of geographical representation, a team franchise would be afforded to each of the thirty-three most ascribed-to religious factions. Said factions would be encouraged to rename their respective teams, naturally – the Pentacostal Fire, the Methodist Disciples, the Eastern Orthodox Golems, the Hare Krishna Baggage Claim Loiterers, whatever they deem most representative and/or menacing to their opponents. Recruiting and drafting procedures would remain unchanged. Same-faith rosters would be encouraged, but not mandatory – after all, an all-Hindu offensive line wouldn’t provide much blockage against a couple of beef-reared Southern Baptist linebackers, would it?
Seasonal play would commence as tradition dictates, paring down the field of theological tenets until the Super Bowl. There, the best of the best, the two top gods, via their earthly emissaries (i.e., “their team”), will vie not only for the trophy, the ring, and title of Best, but also for universal spiritual dominance, the ultimate reward of blind faith. The team, and congregation, that emerges victorious has been vindicated in what they’ve known all along – that their god is, well, God. The false idols have been vanquished by a brilliant third-quarter reverse to the weak side that was good for forty yards and scoring position.
No more bloodshed. No more genocide. No more murder committed in the surety of what’s Right. Humanity’s longest-standing, most divisive conflict, settled, if not peacefully, at least without mortality, on one hundred yards of green.
And what of the faithful whose representatives fail to go all the way? Well, unfortunately, like the Greeks, the Vikings, and the saucer cults, time, events, and hair-raising double-overtime have proven that they backed the wrong horse.
They are not the Chosen. They are the Damned.
But only until next season.
Just a thought.
Weakfish@compuserve.com
|
