Football, Objectification and Empty Moralism - A Critique

I read an article recently that really bugged me (yeah, this happens a lot). I can't exactly articulate why, but that's what writing is for, so here we are. Welcome. There's coffee and cronuts in the back.

The writing in question is part of a series on Christ and football fittingly titled "Touchdown Jesus." This particular iteration is about 23 year-old NFL player Johnny Manziel, recently in the news for allegedly assaulting his ex-girlfriend—another incident in a brief yet troubled career.

The writer alleges that Manziel's downfall is directly linked to something called "the altar of icon." What is the altar of icon? As far as I can tell, the altar of icon is something sports fans do to athletes when they treat them like celebrities instead of ordinary human beings created in the image of God.

When we treat famous athletes like...famous athletes, we hold them to impossible standards, then grind them down when they fail to meet our unrealistic expectations for perfection and good living.

I think there's a word missing from Dunham's column: "Idolatry." Idolatry is Christian-speak for anything elevated above Christ or the gospel (Hence "Touchdown Jesus").

We (Christians, it's implied) worship the idol of sports celebrity at the altar of icon.

So who is responsible for Manziel's moral and spiritual breakdown? We are:

[. . . ] Objectifying athletes has terrible consequences. When we do it, we neglect the fact that they’ve been created in the image of God. We apply pressure with our scrutiny and a false sense of importance with our praise—and I do mean “praise.” We take men and make them icons, and we all feign surprise when those icons crumble to reveal the decaying remains of a person. It’s a predictable, broken dance, and it yields predictably broken people. (source)

I'm getting tired of moralizing, particularly Christian moralizing, that pretends to say something profound and spiritual yet says nothing at all. Maybe I've done too much moralizing in my lifetime and that's why it irritates me so much.

But I mean, what does this even mean? That by treating Manziel like a celebrity, we drove him into domestic violence and substance abuse? That fame always has a dark side? That something in the core of Manziel's being just couldn't handle being really, really good at something?

There are so many frames of reference we could use to try to understand Manziel's downfall, like mental health, substance abuse, the sports industry, the NFL and domestic violence, etc.

But this particular narrative manages to vaguely condemn the reader as a bad Christian while erasing the real victim:

The "altar of icon" did not hit Colleen Crowley so hard in the head that it ruptured her left eardrum. How hard do you have to hit someone to rupture their eardrum? This question makes me feel sick and sad, and not just for Manziel.

Dunham's "altar of icon" is ultimately just one more form of objectification (I objectify your objectification!)—one kind of story imposed on the tragedy of a real-life human being. It's a sanctified, Christianized objectification, vaguely condemning something that the reader would be hard-pressed to actually identify, let alone fix and change. It's the Christian version of "a string of misfortunes befell a promising young athlete."

And I can't imagine the reader going home and tearing down the altar of icon they have erected in Manziel's honor.

I can imagine condemning violence, not matter what form it takes. I can imagine holding people responsible for their actions. Once again, domestic violence and substance abuse and generally bad behavior is not something that happened to Manziel. Those are his actions, and he is responsible for them.

Isn't that part of what it means, after all, to be created in the image of God?

Two Sides to Every Story

Like every other kid who grew up in evangelical Christianity, I loved the Focus on the Family radio drama Adventures in Odyssey, an inventive and often hilarious program that taught lessons about such diverse topics as, "Handling the power of media responsibly" and "Dealing with an alcoholic parent."

I can still remember the episode entitled Two Sides to Every Story. A brother and sister are home alone when, in a series of mishaps, their TV catches on fire. Each sibling tells his/her side of the story—each painting his/her own actions in the most saintly light possible, while basically blaming the other for the catastrophe.

My childhood, right here

The episode dramatizes the brother's story, then the sister's story, then what really happened. The lesson of the episode: "Considering another person's point of view."

 It's a good lesson.

I was reminded of this principle when I saw Franklin Graham's response to Naghmeh Abedini and her revelation that her husband, recently released hostage Saeed Abedini, has abused her throughout the marriage (I say "has abused," because the implication is that his abusive behavior is ongoing).

He says,

Other than God, no one knows the details and the truth of what has happened between Saeed and Naghmeh except them. There’s an old saying that there are at least two sides to every story. I can tell one thing for sure—not everything that has been reported in the media is true.

Oh. Okay.

According to Graham, there are certain truths that are simply unknowable—it's a classic, he said, she said, would-you-do-it-if-Jesus-were-in-the-room type of situation.

Unlike God, we were never in the room when Saeed abused his wife, so we can never say for certain that he did—and should therefore withhold judgment.

Graham, however, fails at his own test. Let's break it down, shall we?

"There's an old saying" (older than God?) - Start with a cliche

"...that there are at least two sides to every story." - Transition into irrelevant but profound sounding idiom

"I can tell one thing for sure—" - Wait a minute—you know the truth? You just said it was unknowable. What happened to "Other than God"? Are you God?

"...not everything that has been reported in the media is true" - Aggressive use of the passive voice that sounds like a denial, but actually comes out as an admission: "not everything" means some of it is true, but you refuse to reveal what exactly. Why? What do you have against truth, Franklin Graham, especially since you are apparently in a special position to know it.

The original idiom and the Adventures in Odyssey episode of the same title both teach that there are two sides to every story, and that the truth lies somewhere in between.

However, when it comes to facts, there is only one side to the story. I'm going to put it in the active voice, because I can:

He abused her.
He did not abuse her.

It's that simple. They can't both be true. Abusers and those who defend them use confusing language to divert attention from this True/False binary. It's either/or, not both/and.

Potentially, Graham actually means:

• He abused her, but it wasn't that bad.
• He abused her, but there were extenuating circumstances that either justify or excuse his actions. 
• He abused her, but she deserved it. 
• He abused her, but only emotionally and mentally, not physically. 
• He abused her, but he suffered too, so it's all good.

Alternatively, he is indirectly asserting that:

• He did not abuse her, therefore she is lying.

But he never comes right and out and says that. Because that would make his meaning clear. And nothing is worse than the precise and transparent use of the English language.

Graham asks us to withhold judgment (what with the whole not being God thing), but he himself passes judgment—he goes from "no one knows . . . the truth" to "I can tell one thing for sure—not everything that has been reported in the media is true" or in other words, I know the truth, but I'm not going to say it here.

There's this false sense of balance in "There are two sides to every story," as if you are setting yourself up as the impartial judge waiting to hear both sides of a case. When in reality, Graham means that there is one side to the story, and that is his side, Saeed's side, the abuser's side.

It would be so much more honest to say some version of, "She's a lying, crazy b***."

Now that's a story I've definitely heard before.

Interview with a Therapist: Anonymous, Part 1

Next up in the series on The Church & Mental Health where I interview Christian therapists to talk about the intersection of spirituality and psychology:

Today's interview is with Anonymous Therapist. We talked about what the church can do to support mental health, dealing with depression, suicide and abuse, the stigma of seeking help and taking medication, integrating spirituality with therapy, and knowing when to call the cops.

This interview has been edited for clarity.

Q: What can we do to de-stigmatize mental illness within the church?

AT: By being open—for instance, I noticed that bigger churches—I think it was Saddleback or another Christian church in Orange County—they offered mental health services—referrals. Our church doesn't really do that, as far as I know, unless you ask around specifically. 

I think a lot of it—certain issues like trauma, sexual abuse, depression, the church doesn't really want to address. I've had friends who have been suicidal and they didn't know who to turn to. So, being open that healing can come from different avenues besides the church.

Photo by Eje Gustafsson

Q: Do you have any ideas or concrete ways that the church could do that?

AT: Sure, there's another issue—domestic violence—how is that addressed in the church? It happens. How does the staff deal with that? Do they refer anyone? 

That one church that I was talking about, they had domestic violence classes and they offered a list of things for the congregation. 

Just being open: “Hey, if you have an issue, come meet with us. And if we're not the appropriate person we can refer you to someone else.” But there's nothing ever said about that, at all.

The one positive thing that I've seen is when Erwin Mcmanus [pastor of Mosaic] did his talk about being severely depressed. Because no one really wants to talk about that. No one wants to talk about, “Well, okay, you're a Christian, but what happens [when] you're depressed, what happens if you get prayed for and, “I'm still depressed.” 

Everyone wants that instant healing, and it doesn't happen that way. People deal with depression for years, on their own, without any help.

Q: How can we as individuals talk about mental health in a way that respects individual experience and takes away the stigma? Not, “There's something wrong with you"—

AT: Yeah, like “You need to get prayed for,” “You don't believe."

The best example I heard was from Erwin: We don't look at mental health issues or illness like physical illness, we treat it like, “You'll get better,” “Don't feel that way,” “Just pray.” And that's not how things get better.

Someone has an issue that they're dealing with and it's internal—and it's like [telling] a cripple, “Hey, you can walk, if you just believe enough.” 

It may not happen for him—he may be crippled for the rest of his life. That doesn't make him less of a person, it's just a part of him that he has to deal with. 

That was the best experience that I've had as far as the church being open about mental health issues.

I think individually we need to stop saying, “Hey, don't feel that way.” I do it sometimes and I have to stop myself, and I have to be like, “No, they're coming from a place—they feel this way."

“Okay yeah, I understand what you're saying.” And trying to give them advice like, “Have you prayed, have you done this—”

They may have done all of those things and it didn't work. Their healing may come from multiple sources. And it all goes back to God. But how it comes about, it might be through different people or experiences. I don't necessarily think it just has to be one thing and that's it.

Q: What resources should the church offer and invest in related to mental health?

In general, the church should attach itself to some type of psychologist or Christian [therapist]—people that they feel are going to be able to handle this type of work—it's specialized work. 

There are some programs where pastors also take therapy classes and they have a dual role as a psychologist and a pastor, but not everyone does. 

And what we're seeing now is a [greater] need for mental health services because of drugs, prolonged trauma...and you do need specialized care for this, someone to work with you who understands these issues without judgment.

Even referring people, [saying] “Hey, we don't have the expertise in this area, but we want to support you. Here is a list of people we work with that we would recommend to you for these certain issues.”

M: So basically just having a list of referrals—any church could do that.

But if you notice very few churches have it on their website.

I honestly don't know if our church—I'm sure that they do, but I don't want to say that Mosaic has it. It's mostly word of mouth and I don't think it should be like that. 

Because people find it hard to open up to others about their issues and sometimes they just need a referral, “Who can I go to?”

A: What helpful or not helpful things do you think churches do?

If someone is suicidal, prayer is great, but you need to call the cops. [We both laugh]

Don't just leave them there and pray for them, you need to call the cops—[prayer] is not enough, it's so not enough. 

If you know that if you leave them alone and you walk away that they're going to hurt themselves and they have a plan, then you have to call the cops. Even I would. 

It's a crisis—if you're in a crisis situation, that's the only thing you can do. Even if you're a therapist. The number one issue right there is safety—safety for yourself, safety for your client. 

Q. What if a friend is not suicidal, but you can tell that something is wrong? If you don't feel that they're going to hurt themselves, but...who do I talk to?

It doesn't hurt [to call the cops]. Some police officers have been trained in assessing suicidal clients or clients who are in harm's way—they don't know where they're at, they're unaware of their surroundings and someone can hurt them. 

The emergency operators have a feel for the situation. That's always your best option.

If someone's just depressed—

There's a difference in the type of situation that becomes a crisis versus someone going through a very difficult time. 

The intensity is different. And if you're in a crisis mode where you feel like they're in danger—immediate danger, there has to be a sense of immediacy—then I would just call the police. 

Because there's nothing that you can do without having law enforcement help you. I would say that law enforcement is good about at least taking them in if they're suicidal, and then they get assessed by someone. 

It sounds a little scary, but in the end you have to think about safety and what you can do.

[To be continued...]