America may have entered a
post-Christian era, but that shouldn’t be confused with a loss of
religion. Americans just believe
differently, in different stuff.
Growing up, I believed in angels
that/who could fly; that belief is no less widespread, provided it’s a
superhero or young wizards on a broom doing the flying. “Aquaman” did close to $52 million in box
office this weekend, and Aquaman flies.
Whether or not he watches over a kid in middle school may have to wait
for the sequel.
The Tribune today had a page-one
story on Bears fans congregating in their garages for the Bears-Vikings’
game. The faithful, of course, have
their favorite hymn, “Bear Down, Chicago Bears,” and the picture for the story
showed garage walls plastered with the likenesses of all sorts of Chicago
players. Here are your saints, if not
Saints.
I watched the game, too, though in
the living room, and without such holy images that would adorn a believer’s
garage wall. Chicago gods proved mightier
than Minnesota gods, who did not answer when an anointed fan blew into a
monster horn that looked straight out of “Lord of the Rings.” The Bears as the one true god? No, these are polytheistic times with Eagles,
Cubs, Red Sox….
Through adolescence, I followed
the White Sox with a zeal that bordered on fanatic; but it wasn’t
religious. There was Comiskey Park and church,
the sports’ pages and the New Testament.
I could also separate one from the other (except for the time I cursed
God for not letting the 1967 Sox win the AL pennant). Nowadays, there doesn’t appear to be any
reason to.
May the Avengers watch over us,
and the big bear in the sky, too. Oh,
and heaven help us.
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