Every Sunday football's faithful
robed in sacred color schemes
chant their praises to the pigskin god on high.
In cathedrals (domed and open)
these devoted fans converge
raising arms (as if in worship) to the sky.
On the field a reenactment
of some ancient sacrifice
calls to mind the gladiator's brute and gore.
With vicarious allegiance
those who look-on
feel the pain as they pray the pigskin god will fix the score.
It's religion pure and simple.
There's a liturgy observed
by the priests with whistles clad in black-and-white.
And the banners they're unfurling
call to mind transgressions made
making clear the cost of penance in plain sight.
The conversion rate is stunning.
New believers fill the seats
as they flock each week to find community.
It's a fellowship like family
where nobody feels alone.
That is why it is their faith's identity.
What was once a fun amusement
has become idolatry.
Even pastors cancel church for play-off games.
Yes, the Lord's Day has been
tackled and then sidelined (left for dead)
and the worst part is it's
happened without shame.
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