In her 1985 book
The Handmaid's Tale, Margaret Atwood describes a futuristic society where religious fundamentalists have taken over the government and culture.
Atwood did not include any scenes where the characters stepped out for a night at the local ballpark, but if she had, the description might have looked a lot like "Faith Nights," a concept introduced by Third Coast Sports at the minor-league Nashville Sounds games last year.
Christian music artists play pre-game mini-concerts. Costumed mascots Bob the Tomato and Larry the Cucumber, from the popular VeggieTales series, greet children. Ball players line up at the microphone to give testament, telling their personal faith stories in between innings. And don't forget the door prizes! Bibles and bobble head figures of Biblical characters are given out on arrival.
All this may be coming soon to a ballpark near you:
Nashville, Tenn.-based Third Coast Sports said it is sponsoring similar events in 10 cities this season, from the Birmingham Barons and Tulsa Drillers to the Fort Worth Cats and Portland Beavers.
Kevin Huffman, vice president of operations for Third Coast Sports, said church members in the 2005 lineup of cities plan evangelistic efforts on Faith Nights.
"The churches in these cities are already stepping up in good numbers and using these events as opportunities for church wide fellowship and outreach," Huffman said. "We couldn't be happier."
Beliefnet
And it's good business:
"the Sounds drew more than 550 church groups to seven such events in 2004. Attendance at the Sounds' Faith Nights averaged 9,800 -- more than 3,500 better than the season average, team officials said."
Now, I'm a United Methodist living in the Bible belt here in North Carolina. Pick a Sunday, and you'll find me in church. Heck, pick several other nights out of the week, and you'll find me there too, for choir practice, Bible study, women's circle night, youth group, etc.
So why does my bullshit meter go off when I read about "Faith Night" at the ballpark?
At first read this seems like good clean fun. My husband and I and our two kids love going to the local Durham Bulls games. We've been known to meet up at the park with all our extended family and take up about two rows of seats. Our Sunday school class usually goes to the ballpark together as a fellowship activity at least once a season, as does our church's youth group. When I'm out with the kids I really appreciate the "family" sections where there's no smoking or beer allowed. And I just adore VeggieTales.
But on closer thought, I find myself disturbed by what I see as the commercialization of our faith-- I don't want my Bible and my Jesus reduced to bobble head dolls and door prizes. Christians are called to be in the world, but not of the world, yet what's more worldly than mass-produced toys and gimmicks and giveaways?
Christians have been caught up in this consumer culture, allowing the outer trappings of our faith to be marketed back to us by big-box "Christian Family" bookstores and websites. As part of his sermon last Sunday, our pastor said, "Being in church on Sunday doesn't make you a Christian any more than being in a garage makes you a car."
Or to paraphrase him: No matter how many Jesus bumper stickers you put on your car, how many Bible verses are quoted on your t-shirts, how many religious magnets you put on the fridge, or how many frequent-spender points you rack up at the local Christian stores, there's no way to call yourself a Christian if it's not reflected in your actions and responses to others.
I don't fault Third Coast Sports for the marketing strategy. Over 80% of folks in America identify themselves as Christians (source) ; it's just good business to get creative to try to capture that market share.
But I do fault those who fall for it. Like all Christian-themed items from popular culture, religious folks should be wary of relying on those items or entertainment sources as evidence of their faith, as substitutes for worship activities, or as pastimes that are somehow more "moral" than ones that don't have that church affiliation. Touched by an Angel was still your average TV drama--filled with people having affairs, taking drugs, committing crimes--but there was just this extra tag-on of some pretty people who came out and said, "Ding! God loves you!" at the end of each episode. And a night out at the ball park with the family is still a great event, not made more or less worthy by getting to clutch a bobble-head Moses doll. What's next, fireworks in the shape of a cross?
And of course on even closer thought, this kind of an event is discriminatory. One of the stated goals of Faith Night is as a Christian outreach, to evangelize to those folks who just show up, thinking they're going to get their peanuts and sit back to watch the boys play ball. I'm sure everyone is welcome to buy a ticket, but just imagine for a moment if it were "Jew Night" at the ballpark. Or "Gay Night." Or "Whites Only" night. And what about season ticket holders, who now have paid for this as part of their package, no matter what their religious affiliation?
And the Nashville Sounds have another plan to get Christians to the ballpark: free tickets for kids who attend Vacation Bible School.
Now, I don't think these things should be shut down. Baseball parks are private commercial enterprises, and no one is forcing folks to shell out $12.50 for a ticket. Taxpayer money is not involved. We're a free market society, and clearly, the market is there for this kind of activity.
But what worries me is the concept that participating in the Christian commercial culture is the way to deepen one's faith. Hanging around with those just like you is not the model Jesus used for his ministry. And Christians who claim to be in ministry to others should look a lot deeper than a free baseball shaped like Bob the Tomato.