by Sylvie Shaw
A fundamental question related to the debate on 'Is sport
a religion?' is to consider what is religion? Or what kind of religion could
sport be? Or even, what kind of religion would one seek and find in baseball?
(Chidester 1998).
According to Lester Kurtz (1995:9), religion 'consists of
the beliefs, practices (rituals), the sacred and the community or social
organization of people who are drawn together by religious tradition.' This
overview definition is helpful but does not focus on issues raised by Geertz's
5-pronged perspective, including his vision of the role of the
transcendent in religion, or incorporate the role of religion for the
individual as a sacred or symbolic process of meaning making.
In trying to determine whether there is a relationship
between religion and sport, I turn to Geertz (1973:98) who, in the chapter, Religion as a
cultural system of his his masterly text The
interpretation of cultures, reflects on what makes something
religious. In doing so, he turns to the sport of golf and explains: 'A man can
indeed be said to be "religious" about golf, but not merely if he
pursues it with passion and plays it on Sundays: he must also see it as
symbolic of some transcendent truths.'
Thus, from Geertz's viewpoint, sport must be symbolic or
resonant of something beyond the individual - the transcendent as something
more than, bigger than or eternal, or perhaps it could also be deemed, from an
invididual stance, as something that takes one out of or beyond oneself.
Engaging further with this notion, I turn to other theorists such as Gary Bouma
(1992:15) who seems to agree with Geertz by saying that 'religion is grounded
in some truely transcendent being, force or principle,' while Hilton Deakin
(1982:98) states that transcendence 'extends the human experience beyond the
level of everyday life.' But trancendence can also be found in everyday
experiences such as a round of golf as Geertz has outlined.
A few years ago when contemplating this subject, I went to interview a leading AFL coach and one of his players to see if they described their football activities on and off the field had anything to do with what William James (2002 [1902]) may have defined as a religious experience. The coach was depicted in biographies as being able to kick 'magical' goals or connect with 'superhuman' abililities when leaping above the pack to grab or mark the ball. When I tried to probe this ability further, the coach shrugged saying that his ability was 'nothing special'; it was just the way he played.
A few years ago when contemplating this subject, I went to interview a leading AFL coach and one of his players to see if they described their football activities on and off the field had anything to do with what William James (2002 [1902]) may have defined as a religious experience. The coach was depicted in biographies as being able to kick 'magical' goals or connect with 'superhuman' abililities when leaping above the pack to grab or mark the ball. When I tried to probe this ability further, the coach shrugged saying that his ability was 'nothing special'; it was just the way he played.
But the football player held a different view. He said
that this particular coach also had the ability to get the team to deeply mine
their own reserves of strength, agility and power in order to succeed - and
win. Building teamwork as well as encouraging players to 'innately' read the
game, allowed the team to rise above the pack. In addition to following the
coach, the player I interviewed did something else.
He went about organising his game preparation almost as a
religious ritual. This included what he ate, the respectful way he acted in the
dressing room towards other players and the jersey (the symbol of the team and
its history), and the way, or order in which he put on his symbolic uniform.
For this player, being part of the team was sacred, and while the game may be,
in his eyes, as non-religious, one could argue that the whole game, from
preparation to the final siren, including the winning team's collective
'group-hug' and their bellowing of the club's anthem, was a sacred, or at least
a special kind of religious experience.
A short definition of religious experience is the
'subjective experience of the sacred' but that necessitates another definition
- what is the sacred? Are things intrinsically sacred or do humans determine,
by cultural and social relationships and actions, which things, places, objects
or activities are sacred or special? Is 'making' or consecrating something as
special the same as naming something as sacred?
In her book, Religious experience reconsidered, Ann Taves
(2009:27) suggests that 'if care is taken to avoid certain pitfalls', the use
of the term 'special' can expand concepts of the sacred (defined, e.g. by
Durkheim and Eliade in opposition to the profane), to embrace processes of
meaning making that may not, at first glance, be seen as religious - but may be
experienced as religious, spiritual, mystical or magical (Knott 2010:305). But
I would ask whether such experiences or extra-ordinary moments could also be
regarded as 'ordinary' or secular by the practioner rather than the theorist.
They may certainly be special but this will depend on the particular occasion,
location or circumstance.
In an interview with Ann Taves on the excellent and
thought-provoking blog The Immanent
Frame, she extends what she means by the term special:
'Specialness has to do with ascriptions of value. In other
words, it signifies how important something is to people. In some cases these
things have a kind of Durkheimian sense of sacredness; they are considered so
valuable that they’re set apart and protected by taboos. Specialness is a term
that allows us to investigate where people position things along a continuum of
value rather than simply assuming that people consider things in terms of
binary oppositions such as “sacred” and “profane,” or “religious” and
“secular.” (Schneider, nd).
Another way of seeing this juxtaposition is to look to
Mircea Eliade and the exposition by Bonnie Miller-McLemore (2001) who
deconstructs his sacred and profane hierophany in relation to American
football. Like many types of arena-centred sport, 'gridiron' is a television
spectacular reminding us of the theoretical descriptor of Guy Debord. Always on
the lookout for the spectacular narrative, TV sports coverage creates myths
around certain superhuman feat of players who are able to rise above the play
and soar into the annals of sports history. Miller-McLemore puts it this way:
'Football's mythic quality has less to do with the hype,
excitement and cheering... than it does with some form and structures of the
game itself...Watching a series of plays entertains and intrigues fans
precisely because it moves them outside all routines of ordinary life into an
imaginary world and at the same time creates a world that feels more real than
all other ordinary moments.' (2001:123)
Reminiscent of Baudrillard's hyperreality, the mythic
narrative of the sports superhero can lead the fans into a world of the
simulacra - and to another religious experience of sport - the religion of
fandom, from the US football code to the world game and the enthusiasm of
Barcelona fans.
Football tragic Jordie Xifra's (2008) passion is the
Barcelona Football Club. With over 170,000 fans, the enthusiasm of the fans of
Europe's most popular club explodes into a Durkeimian effervescence as they
scream, sing, blog, consume and ritualise their involvement in this (sacred or
special?) Catelonian club. Xifra refers to the religious expression of the fans
as a form of 'civil religion' which 'bestows social energy', creates a sense of
communal belonging among the fans, and builds 'emotional unity' (4).
Normally critics point to the emotional unity among the
fans but I would argue that there is also a communal bond that exists between
the fans and the players during a match. The loud and fervent support of
well-rehearsed chants and the club anthem stir the players to achieve
heightened states and exploits. In this space, players, as well as fans, may be taken out of
themselves - and into a place of quasi-religious experience or an experience of
what could be termed the 'secular sacred'.
So back to where we started - is sport religious, sacred,
secular or a combination of these themes? And back to the question David
Chidester (1998) poses about whether baseball is in any way religious?
Chidester states: 'The determination of what counts as religion is not the sole
preserve of academics. The very term "religion" is contested and at
stake in the discourses and practices of popular culture.' (760). So asking the
question or even considering if and in what ways is sport religious, Chidester
wavers.
Whether sport is religious is probably yes and no
depending on how one defines religion. There is a need to unravel the various
perspectives of religion expression, whether from theorists and practitioners,
about what is regarded as sacred or special, transcendent or self-transcendent,
or, as I prefer it, as just the way it is.
References cited
Miller-McLemore B. 2001. Through the eyes of Mircea Eliade: United States football as a religious 'rite of passage'. In J. Price, ed., From season to season. 115-135, Macon, GA, Mercer University Press.
Xifra, J, 2008. Soccer, civil religion, and public relations: Devotional-promotional communication and Barcelona Football Club. Public Relations Review 34(2): 192-198.
Questions:
- How do you define religion?
- Is there a relationship between sport and religion? Which sport?
-
How do sportspeople like Kelly Slater (super surfer) or Billy Slater
(superMelbourne Storm player), or any other heroic or mythical
sportsperson create that myth or is that myth created by outsiders such
as sports journalists?
- What is religious about sport? Is one sport more religious than another?
- What is religious experience in sporting terms? Give an example.
References cited
Bouma, G.D. 1992, Religion. Meaning, transcendence and community in
Australia. Melbourne: Longman
Cheshire.
Chidester, D. 1998. Church of Baseball, the Fetish of Coca-Cola and the Potlatch of Rock'n'Roll. Journal of the American Academy of Religion 64(4): 743-765.
Deakin, H. 1982. Some thoughts on transcendence in tribal societies. In E. Dowdy, ed., Ways of transcendence. Insights from major religions and modern thought. Bedford Park, SA: The Australian Association for the Study of Religions.
Deakin, H. 1982. Some thoughts on transcendence in tribal societies. In E. Dowdy, ed., Ways of transcendence. Insights from major religions and modern thought. Bedford Park, SA: The Australian Association for the Study of Religions.
Geertz, C. 1993. Religion as a cultural system. In The interpretation of cultures: selected essays, 87-125. Fontana Press, http://isites.harvard.edu/fs/.../Geertz_Religon_as_a_Cultural_System_.pdf
James, W. 2002. [1902]. Varieties of religious experience. New York: Routledge.
Knott, K. 2010. Specialness and the sacred: Ann Taves, Religious Experience Reconsidered. Religion 40(4): 305-307.
Kurtz, L. 1995. Gods in the global village. The world's religions in sociologial perspective. Thousand Oaks, CA: Pine Forge Press.Miller-McLemore B. 2001. Through the eyes of Mircea Eliade: United States football as a religious 'rite of passage'. In J. Price, ed., From season to season. 115-135, Macon, GA, Mercer University Press.
Schneider, N. nd. The study of special experiences: An interview with Ann Taves
The Immanent Frame, http://blogs.ssrc.org/tif/2010/01/04/the-study-of-special-experiences-an-interview-with-ann-taves/Xifra, J, 2008. Soccer, civil religion, and public relations: Devotional-promotional communication and Barcelona Football Club. Public Relations Review 34(2): 192-198.
