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Mere Catholicism
For the first time in my life since I’ve been old enough to understand what a television is, I went an entire season without watching a single Minnesota Vikings game, or any other American football. (Time will tell if I break down and watch the Super Bowl at a party or something.)
It wasn’t because of five decades of Vikings heartbreaks or dubious prospects for the year. It wasn’t a political decision. But a couple of things have been bothering me, and I finally reached some kind of internal threshold. The first is the growing awareness of how the violence of football damages the people who play it. The second is the amount of time and energy I spent on it.
I want to say directly at the start that I’m not presenting my decision as some kind of moral imperative to impose on you. I am also well aware, as I’ll get to, that similar concerns could be raised about other pastimes. Rather, I present it just as a kind of meditation or even examination of conscience that could be applied to a number of different things.
I am, of course, well aware that people get injured, and tragically at times even killed, in a variety of sports. There are sports more violent than football, like boxing and MMA. And there are sometimes serious injuries even in nonviolent sports like basketball, soccer, and baseball. People hurt themselves hiking and riding bikes.
Life is not a risk-free proposition, nor should it be.
Still, the violence is inherent in football. About a year ago, Damar Hamlin of the Buffalo Bills had to be resuscitated on the field after his heart stopped following a routine hit, and we were still talking about the scary repeat head injuries affecting Tua Tagovailoa, the young quarterback of the Miami Dolphins. That kind of thing has just kept piling up. That’s to say nothing of the chronic brain injuries emerging in retired players.
When I was younger, I used to root for the big hits. Now, I cringe at them, and I wonder, given the size and strength and speed of these athletes, whether football can safely be played in its current form at all.
But even more convicting to me was the time and energy I spent on it. One day I started adding it all up, beginning with all those Sunday afternoons. Each game is about three hours, and usually I’d watch more than one game, perhaps even three or even four, and watch the highlights on the news and read about it in the paper and talk about it over the water cooler.
Over the years, we got more access: Now you can watch post-game interviews and training camp highlights and monitor mock drafts and imbibe endless hours of professional sports debate and commentary, not to mention the endless ocean of social media and amateur sports debate and commentary.
Add that up over my lifetime so far and we’re talking about literally thousands of hours of time dedicated to that one particular form of entertainment. How much thought have I, someone who never even played organized football, given to players whose names I can barely recall now? How much of myself have I invested in the outcome of a game played mostly by people I’ve never met? How much Vikings lore is woven into the story of my life?
As I’ve come to think about it, I realize this is just the tip of the iceberg. I’ve given hundreds of hours of life to Star Wars — movies and TV series I’ve watched multiple times, books, parodies, commentaries. Then there’s multiple Star Trek series and movies and any number of favorite TV shows and musicians and authors and games I like to play. And how much, in the Internet era, have I given to the endless digital firehouse of content that never stops, never sleeps?
As I grasp the scope of this, I get a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that maybe my time has not been well spent. Maybe you do too.
Let me say it again: I’m not saying it’s morally wrong to watch the Vikings (or even the Packers!) or a Star Wars movie, or to scroll your social media feed a little or listen to a podcast or have game night with friends. I’m not railing against a night at the movies. I’m not saying you can only pray and read the Bible and the lives of the saints and the Great Books and think deep thoughts.
Nor am I arguing that every waking moment must be productive. In fact, I believe that to be a very destructive mentality that is contrary to our Catholic faith and our understanding of the human person. Leisure and rest are important too, in their proper balance.
What I am suggesting is that we need to be intentional, or we will be dominated by this loud world. How does God look at how I spend my time? We need to choose well. How much of our time and energy should go to entertainment and leisure? What forms of leisure are worthy of us? Does the way we spend our leisure time actually refresh us and contribute to our joy and creativity, or does it leave us empty and drained and sad?
I wish I could say I have spent all of those roughly 50 hours of Vikings games I didn’t watch this season in edifying ways, but if I’m honest, for most of them I was probably watching something else or staring at my phone.
Still, being aware of the problem is a place to begin.
Deacon Kyle Eller is editor of The Northern Cross. Reach him at [email protected].