Super Bowl Sunday came and went and I missed the game. Well, that’s not entirely correct. I missed the game from the standpoint that I didn’t see it, but I didn’t miss it from the perspective of wanting to see it. So I didn’t really miss the game. I chose not to watch it. Some may wonder why, when it’s a common practice (in my experience) for communities to host a Super Bowl party and invite the teenagers.
I can’t imagine the teens don’t understand the underlying objective. I can’t imagine they’d pass up pizza just to avoid any conversations that might get started by the well-intentioned staff.
But that digresses from my point. What’s the harm in a football game? Am I going to some pious extreme? Not at all. I used to watch football every Sunday, plus some Saturdays, plus Monday nights. Enjoyed it quite a bit. But over the years I became aware of a disturbing trend, not quantified but nevertheless felt. The game seems to be much more violent now than in the past. I read of injuries decimating teams (including the one I root for) and every year seems to be more of the same. Much more than I remember in earlier times. Maybe the players are getting bigger and stronger, and the forces that clash wrecking more havoc.
I don’t know. I just know that it’s lost some of my interest. (Not all. I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was happy the Giants won.)
We’re in the Ordinary lag before Lent. It’s quite apropos, as it gives us time to prepare for Lent, if that’s the only time we use to examine our faith, our life, and the path we traverse. If we examine these things daily or weekly, it’s a time when we can take our focus deeper.
I’ll be writing about this journey as we go through it. I hope you will join me.