The Spiritual Significance of the 2010 National Championship

If you know me, or anything about the family that I come from, you know that Auburn University is a big part of my story. We were the quintessential family on Saturdays in the fall: alumni parents, trailed by three kids, all decked out in orange and blue, pointing out classrooms they learned in, buildings they lived in and places they formed their relationship. Yes, you could say my understanding of what Auburn is was forged on those Saturdays from 1992 to 2004 with those people who are absolutely closest to me.

Auburn football was a source of great joy and agony for me as a child. My emotions were tied to every win and loss, often retreating to my bedroom after those unfortunate games when the cosmos got it wrong and Auburn lost to bury my face in a pillow and cry like my favorite pet had just died.

It was in many of those times that have great meaning in my relationship with my father, be it shooting up into his arms after the Tigers scored or him quietly consoling my fits of anger and outrage at what I was convinced had been a conspiracy of crooked refereeing that had led to a loss. One such turning point in the maturation of my college football-laden personality came in the Georgia Dome in December of 1997, when Pops and I had just watched our Tigers turn a 17-point lead over favored Peyton Manning and Tennessee into a gut-wrenching one point loss. As the Vols celebrated, Pops asked,

“You ok?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I think I am.”

“Win, lose or tie, we’re for Auburn till we die, right bud?” Pops said, in that Joe Hastings tone which is often imitated, but never replicated.

“Right, Dad.”

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It has only been in the last few years when I have really began to consider how my passion for college football, namely my Tigers, intersects my calling and faith in Jesus. For a while, I struggled with this issue, thinking that Jesus could not possibly be ok with the amount of energy and passion I put into such a trivial endeavor. Surely Christ calls me to a life of something more than worrying about the results of a bunch of college kids playing sports…

…and God does…

But at this point in my life, I can’t really help it. I’ve spent my life living and dying with Auburn on the field. As my brother said a few months ago, “Telling John Carl not to care about it is like telling the ocean not to create waves.” As I expressed these thoughts and feelings to a friend in ministry a year or two ago, I got a bit of an unexpected answer. Emily, my friend, colleague and own personal theological sounding board, reassured me that while one’s emotions shouldn’t be tied so closely to the outcome of a football game, maybe there is something that draws us to this kind of stuff; “maybe it’s something a little more holy than we realize.” Comforting words, indeed.

Over the past year, I’ve seen myself “trend Anglican” as some say. My preferences for worship have become much more liturgical, with a greater appreciation for the Christian sacraments and liturgy. This is altogether not surprising, as many Methodists who come to Duke Divinity find themselves in the same boat (pun intended). In the days of youth group and high school, I would never willingly choose to attend a high church service, much less enjoy it. Nowadays, I get all weepy during the Communion liturgy, find myself searching amazon for liturgical resources and get a little snarky when people don’t value the Sacraments enough.

At Duke, first year students are required to participate in spiritual formation groups, along with two spiritual formation retreats during the year. Yesterday, I attended “A Crash Course for Non-Anglicans in the Book of Common Prayer.” Led by Fr. Ben Sharpe, an Anglican priest from Winston-Salem, NC, we learned how to use the BCP, learned about the history and learned the meaning of many rites included. Father Ben did a great job of relating to his audience, largely comprised of Methodists, concerning the role of the BCP in the church and individual’s spirituality.

He explained how when we pray from the Book, we participate in a living liturgy that has been prayed since the First Century; when we pray, we participate and pray in community with people, both living and dead, who are citizens of the same Kingdom. Praying communally teaches us how to pray, both for others, and ourselves as we are formed by the liturgy of the Church.

On Tuesday, as I met with my spiritual formation group, we were instructed to share a way in which we were blessed over the Christmas holidays. When the term came to me, I looked down at my shirt, which read, “2010 National Champions,” apologized for the irreverence and cliché, and explained to my group and leader, Sister Joanna (a Catholic nun), about how I’ve waited for Auburn to win a national championship my entire life and how surreal it was that it was finally here. More so than that, I explained was what Auburn actually meant to me.

What I discovered about myself in that moment was that Auburn, like the Church and the community of faith, mean what they mean to me because of the people that form the image of that community in my mind. I am who I am as a Christian because of saints and sinners that have gone before me, like the apostles Paul and Peter, like Justin Martyr, like Saint Thomas Aquinas, like John Wesley, like Dietrich Bonhoeffer, like Martin Luther King, Jr., like Joe Ed and Betty Hastings and Bob and Bette Schaffhausen, like my parents, like Mary Bendall and Matt Smith.

Likewise, I am an Auburn man because parents took me to games, taught me the cheers and clothed me in orange and blue. I am an Auburn man because people like Neal NeSmith stood beside me to face the horrid bammers at school on Monday after we lost the Iron Bowl. I’m an Auburn man because of all my friends at Auburn, who I will have lifelong relationships with directly because of that special place that brought us all together.

Coming to the realization that you are a part of something bigger than yourself is an intimidating and humbling moment. Knowing that you wouldn’t be who you are without certain people Divinely placed in your life is at the same time scary and beautiful.

For Auburn to win the National Championship, in the grand scheme of things, is rather trivial. Yeah, it’s great publicity for our university (and only our university – please don’t fill me with rage by suggesting this has anything to do with our state – it doesn’t). It’s great to have that kind of notoriety.

Even greater, though, is that when Wes Byrum’s kick sailed through the uprights in University of Phoenix Stadium on January 10, 2011, decades of Auburn men and women were vindicated in their long-suffering. That victory represented not only a victory for Cam Newton, Nick Fairley, Kodi Burns, Josh Bynes et al, but a victory for Shug Jordan, for David Langner, Bill Newton and the “Punt, Bama, Punt” team – for Pat Sullivan, Pat Dye, Bo Jackson, Randy Campbell, and Tracy Rocker – men who pulled Auburn out of the shadows of Bear Bryant and Alabama and laid the groundwork to make Auburn a national power. For the 1983 team, unjustly robbed of what should’ve been its own championship. For December 2, 1989, when the collective Auburn Family grabbed the pretentious other school in the state by the throat and demanded they treat us as the equals we were. For 1993, a team unblemished, but robbed by the actions of greedy individuals. For Tommy Tuberville, who got us where we are today. For Jason Campbell, Carnell Williams, Ronnie Brown, Travis Williams, AT Williams, Carlos Rogers and the rest of the 2004 team, unmatched on the field, but robbed by a corrupt system. For David Housel, Jay Jacobs and James E. Foy, men that knew and understood what it meant to be Auburn men. For players like Kodi Burns, who exemplify what Auburn is in every way, selflessly put their own interests subordinate to the interests of the greater whole.



To pray ancient prayers and sing ancient hymns in the Church is to participate in the living reality that we are part of an ongoing narrative of redemption held together by Jesus Christ and His saving work of redemption in a cruel and fallen world.

Not quite the same, but similarly, to be a part of the Auburn family is to understand the words in our creed, to know that loving Auburn means loving Auburn, with football only being an added bonus. When we gather together on those eight precious fall Saturdays, we participate in our own, almost spiritual, reality, realizing that what we do in Jordan-Hare is more than football, but a participation in the history and story of Auburn University.

We grow up learning the cheers, our holy orange and blue liturgies. “Please stand for the call to worship…” beings to sound like “Alright Tiger fans, get your hands up for Bodda Getta!” Our doxology, after the holy act of breaking the plain…War Eagle. The Gloria Patri following the doxology, Glory to Ol’ Auburn. Our recessional becomes “On the rolling plains of Dixie…”

We participate in the “outward signs of an inward reality” as Aquinas said, when we partake in the sacrament of Tiger Walk, greeting and supporting those men who approach the field to represent all of us. Our offering of praise to Shug is manifested as we gather together to hurl rolls of Charmin, decorating our town in the whiteness of victory.

Perhaps all these metaphors are a bit over the top. I don’t mean to say that Auburn football is on the same plane as the work and ministry of Christ’s church. There are, as Emily pointed me to, similarities between the two, though. There comes a point when, after a touchdown or game-changing play, in the midst of high-fiving and hugging everyone within a reasonable distance, you feel you are the midst of something transcendent.

I love Auburn not because of the football, though I love them. Not because of the great instructors and classes I had there, though they were great too. I love Auburn because of the countless afternoons and nights I spent driving to and from the game next to my dad, analyzing each play, embracing after each touchdown and celebrating after each victory. I love Auburn because it is the place that introduced me to my soon-to-be wife. I love Auburn for giving me two greats years to spend around college with my sister. I love Auburn because of Glenn Elliott, Levi Rogers, Kaylor McCain, Jonathan Blocker and all my other friends who I would do anything for.

Like the Church, Auburn is who it is not because of the institution, but because of the people who comprise it.

To win the BCS National Championship was great, but even more special was that when I watched the kick that I had waited so long for split those uprights, I was able to hug Tori Bray, Mitchell and Megan Hastings, Meredith Hastings and Sarah Montgomery. We were able to scream together, cry together and roll Toomer’s together. Even though my parents were thousands of miles away in the Arizona desert celebrating in person, they were there, too. They were there because we are all part of a larger Family – A Family that wins together, loses together, celebrates together and agonizes together. Saying ‘War Eagle’ to a complete stranger in an airport in Europe or Asia or anywhere across the globe isn’t just a simple acknowledgement of a common fanhood, but a mutual nod to an understanding that we are part of something way bigger than ourselves. We’re in this together.

Champions. Together.

War Damn Eagle.

-jc