Commentary

I know it’s a little late to be commenting on the Super Bowl,
and surely more than enough was said about it beforehand, but, my
heavens, there was so much religious stuff circulating around this
event, I can’t let it go yet.
From the beginning, Super Bowls have been designated in Roman
Numerals, like those chiseled in the cornerstones of old churches
or printed on the title pages of sacred books. “This building was
erected in the Year of Our Lord MDCCCXXIII,” the inscription might
say. I think that means it was built in 1823. “Published in the
Year of Our Lord MCM,” gets you a book from 1900. I have several of
those around the house.
In similarly hallowed fashion, we designate it Super Bowl XLIV.
You see, when the X, which is ten, precedes the L, which is fifty,
you subtract it. It’s the same with the I, one, in front of the V,
five. However, if the X or I come after the L or V, then you add
them. Thus, Super Bowl 45 will be simply XLV, and Super Bowl 46
will be XLVI. You have to know your Roman Numerals to keep track of
your Super Bowls. I’m just trying to help out as best I can.
Spending time in old churches and reading the old books, as I have
been known to do, is wonderful preparation for helping people keep
their Super Bowls straight.
However, the most holy wonder about Super Bowl XLIV is the
selling of little patches of grass from the field on which the game
was played. That’s right. For the first time ever, the devoted can
have their own piece of the sacred turf on which our broad
shouldered, helmeted gods performed their astonishing feats.
Turf from the end zone or midfield will be cut into three-inch
by three-inch squares, encased in commemorative glass containers,
and sold for only $99.99 plus shipping and handling. Quick
calculations lead me to believe that, if the whole field is chopped
up this way and all the little pieces are sold, it could gross
about six million dollars. Holy relics never did come cheap.
If one of the faithful would like a piece of grass upon which
“special moments” in the game took place, there will be CXLIV, 144,
of these available at $134.99 each, plus S. and H. That seems by
far the better deal. Surely more meaningful and longer lasting
blessings will accrue to those who have a cleat mark made by New
Orleans quarterback Drew Brees as he threw one of his miraculous
passes. I should think it would be almost guaranteed.
But now I am reminded of Martin Luther, who, you may recall from
some history lesson or other, was a priest of the Church about five
hundred years ago. In the year MDXVII, 1517, I think it was, he
tacked XCV, 95, points for discussion on the door of the parish
church in Wittenburg, Germany. Thus began the Protestant
Reformation that split the Church and divided the Western
World.
One of Martin Luther’s points was that the buying and selling of
indulgences was not proper. This was the practice of selling what
were purported to be pieces of the Cross of Christ or bits of
garments or locks of hair from one or another apostle or saint.
These came with the promise, implied at least, that the owner of
such an item would have sins and wrongs “indulged,” that is ignored
by God Almighty, thereby reducing one’s time in Purgatory.
Now Martin Luther didn’t know anything about Super Bowls, but he
was dead set against creating a market in relics. He preached free
grace, meaning you don’t have to buy some holy something in order
to gain divine favor. By extension, I would think, this means that
enjoying Super Bowl XLIV does not depend on purchasing one of those
patches of sacred turf in a commemorative glass case and placing it
prominently on your mantel.
I thought those of us who are unable to secure a piece of the
holy ground from Super Bowl XLIV ought to know this. Perhaps it
will bring some comfort in a Lutheran sort of way.
Bob Jones is the former minister of the Guerneville and Monte
Rio Community Churches.