Amusing ourselves to death?

Friends invited me to attend a Pittsburgh Power football game on Saturday evening.  This is an ersatz Arena version of football, on an artificial surface half the size of a regular outdoor field, hemmed in by three feet high padded walls.  It was entertaining enough, with lots of points scored, due to almost every offensive play being a pass.  Without a running game, however, it doesn’t have the subtlety of “real” football. 

What struck me was the showmanship that surrounded the actual game.  A loud and loutish announcer assaulted our ears after every play.  The jumbotron of the Consol Energy Arena is impressive, showing not only instant replays of the home team’s successful plays, but also kids in the stands cheering, couples kissing, and the mascot hamming it up.  A dozen talented dancers/cheerleaders entertained us between plays.

In short, all senses were bombarded continually.  You had no ability to converse with your companion or think for yourself for 150 minutes.

This is in contrast to my experience as a priest who regularly gets up in front of my parishioners and leads them in the public prayer of the Mass.     We have a sound system, an organ, and aesthetic visuals.  But the low-key liturgical celebration, with its rhythm of ritual responses, listening to the Word of God, silence, songs and simple gestures, is a very dramatic contrast to the noisy and controlling arena football game.  In a sense, among younger people used to overwhelming sounds and sights (like the more personal video games), without any silence, we the church don’t have prayer when it comes to liturgy.

This reflection is not new.  Academics and liturgists have cried about it for years.  I first encountered the contrast when another priest introduced me to Neil Postman’s 1985 seminal book, Amusing Ourselves to Death.    All I know, I was glad to leave the arena, recover my hearing, and enjoy engaging conversation with my friends on the way home.