This song won't appear on Hurtin', Leavin', and Longin'. It's not sad at all, except in a particularly colloquial expression of English. On the other hand, it is ready made for our "middles" posts. Straight through the goalposts goes this song—one that has been called the world's only Christian football waltz. Take a listen to these lyrics and you will have no trouble seeing why it fits the theme of "middles," straight and true.
Think about that. The Lord's toe. This might border on sacrilege if it weren't for the fact that the weekend has pretty much been dominated by tackle football for several decades now. Indeed, it has begun to take over even those spare "midweek" days that used to be reserved for things like Green Acres, Cosby Show, and Knights of Columbus dinners (not to mention Protestant church socials).
In any case, look more closely at the lyrics. Be a literary and cultural analyst here. You might even want to play it again while you read.
Chorus
Drop kick me, Jesus through the goal posts of life
End over end, neither left nor to right
Straight through the heart of them righteous uprights
Drop kick me, Jesus through the goal posts of life
Make me, oh make me, Lord more than I am
Make me a piece in your master game plan
Free from the earthly temptations below
I’ve got the will, Lord if you’ve got the toe
Chorus
Bring on the brothers who’ve gone on before
And all of the sisters who’ve knocked on your door
All the departed dear loved ones of mine
Stick them up front in the offensive line
Chorus 2x
Oh, drop kick me, Jesus through the goal posts of life
Bring on the brothers who’ve gone on before
And all of the sisters who’ve knocked on your door
All the departed dear loved ones of mine
Stick them up front in the offensive line
Chorus 2x
Oh, drop kick me, Jesus through the goal posts of life
 |
| [b] Translation RF |
On one level, the song is hardly chock full of ideas (starting with the chorus is usually a sign that there is but one key point; repeating it four times pretty much guarantees it).
Except that there is... The more you think about it, you start to sense an odd kind of telelogical theology here.
As attractive as the idea might be of twirling into eternity through the "righteous uprights," the "non-chorus" lines might be the best of all. Imagining the heavenly kin group positioned in an ethereal blocking scheme (it's all part of the "master game plan," we are told) is about as memorable as anything I have ever encountered in the literature of my people.
Your people?," I hear you cry. Who are they? Well, rural Americans. That's who I mean. You don't think that country-western music really could have grown from a little Carter Family seedling into a globalized, commodified behemoth in any other place, do you? And it is this untranslatably American quality I wish to ponder in the rest of this post.
 |
| [c] Good RF |
You see, when I don my anthropology cap I cannot help but contemplate how this song might be translated into other cultural traditions. Master game plan? O.k., maybe...even probably. But even "dropkick" requires a kind of historiographical and cultural acuity that lies beyond a large number of American football fans.
How would you even begin to "translate" this idea into, say, an Islamic cricket culture such as Pakistan's? Be very, very careful. You might find yourself quickly in trouble you had no idea you were percolating.
Theology is like that.
How about something "easier," such as a Latin American football (soccer) culture? Even there, the image of a serene arc of victory into the far corner of the goal—past a diving (devilish?) goalkeeper—still has a rural Protestant flavor that eludes clear translation.
And even for American football fans, the song presents several theological quandaries. Surely you know about the fish and the loaves. And how about all of that healing? The guy with the sacred toe could do a lot with a little. That's clear from scripture. So here's my question:
Does Jesus really need blockers on the O-line?
I think not.
We will conclude this little journey through imaginative ethnography and Biblical allusion with an image from the center of Christian football culture—the University of Notre Dame. There, in the heart of campus, stands a mural that is visible even from the football stadium. Called "The Word of Life," it shows Jesus, arms upraised, towering above the Theodore Hesburgh Library. Although this is common knowledge among Notre Dame students, faculty, staff, and football fans, others of you may not have heard of its more familiar name.
Touchdown Jesus.
No comments:
Post a Comment