Quarterly Journal of Speech
Vol. 97, No. 3, August 2011, pp. 309333
Saved at Home: Christian Branding
and Faith Nights in the ‘‘Church of
Baseball’’
Michael L. Butterworth
Baseball has enjoyed its status as the ‘‘national pastime’’ in part because it has been
associated with democracy. To the extent that baseball, as an institution of civil religion,
fosters pluralism and inclusion, it can indeed be viewed in democratic terms. In recent
years, the advent of conservative Christian events called ‘‘Faith Nights’’ threatens the
democratic health of the ‘‘church of baseball.’’ In particular, Faith Nights depend on a
logic of branding that masks the political commitments that support the events. Thus,
although many baseball fans and followers may not be aware of all aspects of Faith
Nights, they are constituted in a hegemonic relationship with Christianity in ways that
demand critical attention.
Keywords: Baseball; Democracy; Pluralism; Religion; Branding
The entire reason that I play baseball is so that I get a chance to speak about
Christ.*Major League Baseball player, Morgan Ensberg1
Cultural scholar Roberta Newman argues that a visit to the National Baseball Hall of
Fame is akin to a religious pilgrimage. The site is far removed from the common
places of American life, and baseball adherents must embark on a journey ‘‘through
the fields’’ to the rural village of Cooperstown, New York, the mythological birthplace
of the ‘‘national pastime.’’ Between the history contained within the building’s walls
Michael L. Butterworth is Associate Professor in the School of Media and Communication at Bowling Green
State University. Minor portions of this essay were adapted from the author’s dissertation, directed by Professor
Robert Ivie at Indiana University, and a very early version was presented at the Communication and Sport preconference held before the 2006 National Communication Association annual convention in San Antonio, TX.
The author wishes to thank the many who have provided feedback and engaged in productive conversations
during this essay’s evolution, including Andrew Billings, Jeremy Engels, Brian Jackson, Tom Krattenmaker, John
Lucaites, Martin Medhurst, Ed Uszynski, and members of the Writing Group in the BGSU Institute for the
Study of Culture and Society, as well as editor Raymie E. McKerrow and an anonymous reviewer for this journal.
Correspondence to: Michael L. Butterworth 300 West Hall, Bowling Green State University, Bowling Green, OH
43403, USA. Email: [email protected]
ISSN 0033-5630 (print)/ISSN 1479-5779 (online) # 2011 National Communication Association
DOI: 10.1080/00335630.2011.585170
310 M. L. Butterworth
and the mythology evoked by the pastoral setting, visitors are sure to discover
something about the spiritual center of baseball and, thus, America itself. In keeping
with the myth that celebrates the ‘‘American game’’ as an exemplar of liberal
democracy, Newman marvels at the diversity of followers who are drawn by the
magnetism of the ‘‘church of baseball,’’ concluding, ‘‘We are equal in Cooperstown.’’2
Although the Hall of Fame may provide baseball’s most concrete manifestation of
its purported inclusiveness, it is complemented by myriad expressions of the church
of baseball’s ecumenical spirit. From the origin of the metaphor*the film, Bull
Durham*where we are told that the ‘‘only church that truly feeds the soul, day in,
day out, is the church of baseball,’’ to the healing revivalism of ballpark rituals
following the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001, Americans are consistently
reminded that if baseball is a church, it has a seat for everyone.3 As I explore in this
essay, a more recent phenomenon called ‘‘Faith Nights’’ calls into question baseball’s
ability to greet all of its congregants with open arms. Faith Nights operate with the
logic of common ballpark promotions, yet they are designed as evangelical outreach
events in support of conservative Christian commitments and organizations.
Consequently, these promotions alter the metaphor of baseball as a church and
compromise the game’s inclusive idealism. After all, as sportswriter Lou Gelfand
maintains, ‘‘We celebrate baseball in America precisely because it knows no political
party, no religion, no ethnicity.’’4
Gelfand’s comments reflect baseball’s historic associations with democracy itself.
When Albert Spalding wrote his ‘‘history’’ of baseball in 1911, for instance, he
pronounced it to be a ‘‘democratic game.’’5 Baseball Magazine later declared:
Thomas Jefferson when he wrote the Declaration of Independence made proper
provision for baseball when he declared that ‘‘all men are, and of right ought to be,
free and equal.’’ That’s what they are at the ball game, banker and bricklayer, lawyer
and common laborer.6
While this passage promoted the equalizing effect of baseball among fans, the
introduction to legendary manager Connie Mack’s autobiography did the same for
the players as it claimed that ‘‘baseball is democracy in action: in it all men are ‘free
and equal,’ regardless of race, nationality or creed.’’7 Mack’s career was entirely prior
to baseball’s integration in 1947, yet this contradiction does little to change the
democratic mythos of the national pastime. Thus, the marriage of baseball with
democracy continues into the twenty-first century, with the game serving as a
metaphor for inclusion and pluralism in contemporary life.8
Chantal Mouffe argues that pluralism is the defining feature of modern democracy,
by which she means that ‘‘conflict and division are inherent to politics.’’9 A healthy
democratic culture does not seek to erase conflict, she insists, but rather attempts to
negotiate conflict through an agonistic respect for others. Any democracy will have a
tension between an ‘‘us’’ and a ‘‘them,’’ but the trick is ‘‘to construct the ‘them’ in
such a way that it is no longer perceived as an enemy to be destroyed, but as an
‘adversary’ that is, somebody whose ideas we combat but whose right to defend those
ideas we do not put into question.’’10 From this view, discourses that constitute
Saved at Home 311
exclusions of particular citizens or positions threaten the health of democratic
politics. As Mouffe states it, ‘‘if we want a more democratic society, we need to
increase that pluralism and make room for a multiplicity of democratically managed
forms of associations and communities.’’11 Thus, to the extent that a sport such as
baseball can mobilize pluralistic discourses, it can be upheld as an exemplar of
democracy.
Baseball has had its moments of democratic triumph. When American sport was
dominated by the elite classes of the middle and late nineteenth century, it was
baseball that enabled ‘‘some democratization’’ through the inclusion of players culled
from the working classes.12 And surely the game’s greatest democratic achievement
came in 1947, when Jackie Robinson’s debut with the Brooklyn Dodgers marked the
end of the modern era’s exclusion of non-white players. Meanwhile, the mythology
that sustains baseball as a democratic institution continues unabated, evidenced by
President Barack Obama’s comments at the 2009 MLB All-Star Game that ‘‘baseball
has always embodied the values that make America great.’’13 Thus, despite its many
and obvious democratic shortcomings*historic exclusions of non-white players,
economic conditions that effectively enable an unregulated monopoly, suppression of
diverse political viewpoints, and so on*there has long been reason for Americans to
keep their faith in the church of baseball. In other words, as a democratic metaphor,
baseball is an exemplar of what Robert Bellah means by ‘‘civil religion,’’ an
institutional site through which Americans may collectively affirm their commitments to shared symbols and values.14
Baseball’s enactment of civil religion is most commonly seen through ritualistic
expressions of national identity and unity, such as performances of the ‘‘Star
Spangled Banner.’’ Since the 1940s, such rituals have become one of the normal
features of American sporting events. These moments generally are not perceived to
evoke any particular political position but, rather, to affirm the universal principles
that are attributed to national symbols. Thus, the prevailing wisdom about baseball*
and all sports in the United States, for that matter*is that while nationalistic rituals
are demonstrations of patriotism they are most certainly not political. For example,
when MLB Commissioner Bud Selig mandated that ‘‘God Bless America’’ be
performed at all baseball games in the wake of the 9/11 terrorist attacks, he refused
to accept that the performances could be understood as political. ‘‘I don’t honestly
think that politicizes the issue,’’ he insisted. ‘‘After all, we do have troops in Iraq and
Afghanistan.’’15 The ease with which Selig divorced the overt nationalism of ‘‘God
Bless America’’ and the military actions of American troops from matters of politics
is indicative of the logic that allows baseball to function hegemonically to produce
and contain the permissible range of behaviors that are deemed to be ‘‘democratic.’’16
The tension between the particular and the universal should not be understood as
fixed or static but as productive of hegemony itself. As Ernesto Laclau and Chantal
Mouffe explain, it is the very presence of particularities that constitute a contingent
universality. In their words, a hegemonic relation is achieved when ‘‘a certain
particularity assumes the representation of a universality entirely incommensurable
with it.’’17 The focus of their landmark book, Hegemony and Socialist Strategy, was the
312 M. L. Butterworth
ascendancy of a neoliberal hegemony, one in which the particularities of the ‘‘Left’’
had been absorbed by discourses of consensus. Although the specifics of neoliberalism are not my focus here, there is nevertheless an important analog found in
Laclau and Mouffe’s analysis. For if the ‘‘mistaken emphasis on consensus’’ leads to
the belief that conflict can be eliminated,18 then the de-politicizing of neoliberal
policies enables the normalization of discourses such as ‘‘deregulation’’ or ‘‘free trade’’
that are inherently and unavoidably political. Similarly, religious discourses in the
United States increasingly have hailed national identity as explicitly, and exclusively,
Christian. Although the most vocal of these discourses, Christian fundamentalism, is
not the majority perspective in the United States, it has achieved substantial
influence, to the point that Sharon Crowley defines American political culture as a
contest between competing hegemonic projects: liberalism and fundamentalist
Christianity.19
Fundamentalism’s prominence is no accident. Since the late 1970s, a series of
careful articulations between religious and political discourses has inculcated
fundamentalist Christianity in every corner of American public culture, from
religious practices to foreign policy to popular culture. Among the chief accomplishments of this construction is the widespread belief that the United States is an
inherently ‘‘Christian nation.’’ While it is true that the vast majority of Americans
identify as Christian, it is not the case that the nation’s founders intended there to be
a Christian synergy between church and state. Far from simply being a matter of
inaccurate history, the ‘‘myth of Christian America,’’ as Richard Hughes calls it, leads
to the justification of numerous political and social actions that are antithetical to
Christianity. In his words, ‘‘When Christians embrace the myth of Christian America
but refuse to question the nation when it behaves in ways that are alien*even
hostile*to the Christian faith, they implicitly transform their religion into a highly
destructive force that erodes justice for the poor and threatens the peace and stability
of the world.’’20
Both Crowley and Hughes direct their attention to Christianity*especially
fundamentalist Christianity*because they are concerned about a hegemonic
discourse that potentially has severe consequences for democracy. Drawing on the
work of Mouffe, Crowley contends that ‘‘a cleavage between ‘us’ and ‘them’ motivates
contemporary conservative rhetoric, a cleavage starkly articulated in Christian
fundamentalism as an absolute difference between the saved and the unsaved.’’21
When such divisions are built into a discourse, and are present within spaces that
are understood as inclusive and pluralistic, rhetorical critics must attend to the
implications for democratic life. This is why the efforts by Christian fundamentalists
to borrow from and burrow into popular culture are so meaningful. In recent years,
sport, especially baseball, has increasingly become a site for an evangelical outreach
called ‘‘Faith Events,’’ or more commonly, ‘‘Faith Nights.’’ Faith Nights are religiously
themed promotional events that, since 2002, have taken place at hundreds of sports
arenas nationwide. Because they have rapidly grown in popularity and entail
numerous entertainment features that have attracted significant attention from the
public and media, Faith Nights should not be dismissed as mundane baseball
Saved at Home 313
promotions. Rather, through Christian performances and testimonials, as well as
Christian-based corporate sponsorship, these events threaten to undermine baseball’s
pluralism by making the ballpark the latest venue for selling Christ. This trend is not
restricted to baseball, of course, as the branding of religion has become commonplace
in the United States, whether it is found in a Passion of the Christ logo emblazoned on
a NASCAR vehicle or in the ‘‘purpose-driven’’ life offered by the ever-growing
assemblage of mega-churches that populate the American landscape.22
In the case of baseball, the game’s status as the ‘‘national pastime’’ allows it to be
valued as an exemplary democratic institution without any acknowledgment of the
political contests that make democracy meaningful. ‘‘Faith Nights’’ promote a
particular political worldview yet largely do so implicitly by deploying a universal
discourse that appears not to disrupt the inclusivity that purportedly characterizes
the ‘‘church of baseball.’’ My aim in this essay, then, is to draw attention to the
rhetorical work being done by Faith Nights, work that typically masks the deeper
political connections that threaten democratic health both within baseball and the
nation more broadly. I argue that Faith Nights operate with a logic that serves the
hegemonic project of Christian fundamentalism in the United States. To make this
case, I begin the essay with an analysis of branding practices within American
Christianity. I then detail the logic by which Faith Nights sell a particular brand of
Christianity, with attention to the ways this places the democratic ethos of baseball at
risk. I conclude with observations that do not admonish the presence of religion in
baseball but do caution against the promotion of a limited and judgmental form
of faith.
Branding Christ
Rhetorical scholars have long recognized the significance of religion in shaping
political and public life. Martin Medhurst observes that in the United States, ‘‘We
may legally separate Church from State, but we have never separated religion from
government or public policy.’’23 Accordingly, recent scholarship has focused
specifically on the changing dynamics of public religion, especially as performed
on behalf of Christianity. Prompted by the late-twentieth century articulation of
fundamentalist Christianity with conservative politics and alarmed by this merger’s
influence over political policy in the wake of the ‘‘war on terror,’’ critics have
especially focused on whether or not ‘‘religion can influence politics without
damaging the foundations of democracy.’’24 Such concerns are directed toward
conservative Christianity’s commitment to absolute divisions between good and
evil, and saved and unsaved, which provides the grounds for constructing a world in
which non-believers are marked as lost souls at best and mortal enemies at worst.
If conservative Christianity has had an impact on political culture in the
United States, it has also influenced popular culture. A movie like Mel Gibson’s
The Passion of the Christ, for example, grossed over $400 million, and Christian music
produces nearly $750 million in annual revenue.25 James Twitchell reports that
estimates for 2010 are that domestic sales of religious products*most of which are
314 M. L. Butterworth
Christian-based*will reach $9.5 billion.26 All of this has taken place alongside a
growing consciousness that constituting Christians primarily as consumers is a
gateway for various commercial enterprises*many of which have little to no concern
with matters of religion*to generate more business. As Greg Stielstra and Bob
Hutchins note in their book, Faith-Based Marketing, ‘‘We have learned that the
140 million Americans who attend church on a weekly basis are a hidden and
sometimes mysterious market that promises enormous returns to businesses that
develop relationships with them and effectively market their products or services in
ways that speak to their needs.’’27 Stielstra and Hutchins are unapologetic about their
purpose, which they insist is simply to empower businesses with the tools to reach
Christian consumers. Yet, among the principles they espouse is the recommendation
to ‘‘help [Christians] accomplish their objectives by complementing or multiplying
their efforts with your business, product, or service.’’28 In other words, faith-based
marketing is not merely about reaching a target audience; it is also about enabling
that audience to accomplish its mission. So, with Christianity increasingly becoming
a type of faith to sell*i.e., a brand*Christian churches and pastors seek new and
innovative ways to mine popular culture. The risk is that religion in America could be
reduced to another choice in the marketplace for consumers who actualize their
democratic freedoms by reducing them to the freedom to buy one product over
another. In what William Connolly calls the ‘‘evangelical-capitalist resonance
machine,’’ the specific tenets of fundamentalist Christianity become less important.29
What becomes more important is that believers may express their faith not
necessarily through religious practice but through the sacrament of consumption.30
This is precisely the concern that animates Greg Dickinson’s critique of corporate
advertisements in the immediate aftermath of 9/11. In these commercials, Americans
were asked to perform their democratic citizenship not by engaging with politics but
by flexing their muscles as consumers. This was in concert with official political
discourses that implored people to buy cars, fly in airplanes, and go on vacations.
Accordingly, this produced ‘‘an image of citizenship,’’ one which reduced democracy
primarily to capitalistic consumption.31 The marketing of Christianity operates in
much the same way. From this perspective, being Christian is less about adhering to
particular doctrines or practices and more about purchasing the right brand.
This phenomenon is not entirely new. Evangelical Christianity, after all, has long
depended on a promotional logic. As Twitchell suggests, ‘‘At one level, evangelical
simply means marketing, that is to say the act of selling the good news.’’32 Yet the term
evangelical, and its meaning when used to describe contemporary Christianity, is
more complicated. Thus, before I proceed further, it is important to clarify the use of
terms such as evangelical and fundamentalist. Derived from the Greek word for
‘‘gospel,’’ George Marsden notes that ‘‘central to the evangelical gospel [is] the
proclamation of Christ’s saving work through his death on the cross and the necessity
of personally trusting him for salvation.’’33 Following from this commitment,
evangelical Christians encourage personal testimonials of salvation and emphasize
the promise of eternal life earned through faith in Jesus Christ.
Saved at Home 315
Properly understood, evangelical Christianity entails a wide range of possible
political commitments, including those labeled as ‘‘liberal’’ or ‘‘progressive.’’34 However, the articulation of Christianity with ‘‘values-based’’ issues such as abortion,
same-sex marriage, and stem-cell research has made it nearly impossible to
disconnect evangelism from conservative politics. Twitchell reports that in 2004
‘‘almost 80 percent of self-described evangelical Protestants voted for President
Bush.’’35 Importantly, this is not an isolated instance of one presidential candidate
being supported by a majority of religious conservatives. As political scientist Mark
Noll details, survey data reveal that ‘‘those who both hold evangelical beliefs and
identify with conservative Protestant denominations [such as the Southern Baptist
Convention] support conservative political causes.’’36 That is not to say, however, that
conservatism can be reduced to casting a ballot for a Republican presidential
candidate or even identifying with the Republican Party. Nevertheless, the consonance between conservative Christianity and conservative politics cannot be
ignored. More specifically, it is fundamentalism that has come to dominate our
contemporary understanding of American Christianity.
Marsden defines a fundamentalist as ‘‘an evangelical who is militant in opposition
to liberal theology in the churches or to changes in cultural values or mores, such as
those associated with ‘secular humanism.’’’37 Accordingly, it is crucial that we
understand fundamentalism as a rhetorical response to a given socio-historical
moment. The term’s origin*drawn from the 1909 publication of a pamphlet called,
The Fundamentals*developed out of late-nineteenth and early-twentieth century
anxieties about modernism, science (especially Darwinism), academic studies of the
Bible, and the ‘‘basic secularization of American culture.’’38 More recent invocations
of fundamentalism can be understood in the context of what Thomas Frank calls the
‘‘Great Backlash,’’ a conservative response to the social discord of the 1960s and
1970s.39
Even before fundamentalism reasserted itself in the 1970s, increasing numbers of
Americans had already moved away from mainline Protestant affiliations and to
evangelical Christianity in the years following World War II. In part, this shift was
representative of new affinities between religion and politics made possible by the
‘‘good versus evil’’ rhetoric of the Cold War.40 And, as Eileen Luhr explains, the
postwar economy precipitated a boom in church construction, thus making religious
entrepreneurship an integral part of the suburbanization of the United States.41 The
most obvious manifestation of this growth is the ‘‘mega-church,’’ which is defined as
a congregation that consists of 2,000 or more members. The number of these
congregations has grown from approximately 50 in 1980 to over 1,200 by 2005.42
Importantly, many of these churches emphasize salvation as a means to ‘‘health and
wealth,’’ and see faith in God as the key to a life full of material rewards.43 Thus,
what the mega-church offers is less about the certainty of knowing one’s status in
eternity when life on earth comes to an end and more about enjoying the benefits of a
Godly lifestyle while one is still around. This, Naomi Klein argues, is the essence of
branding, a means for organizations to sell not products but images.44 Yet making
evangelical Christianity the brand of choice involves more than offering large
316 M. L. Butterworth
churches. Rhetorically, the mega-church has gained favor by claiming to be ‘‘nondenominational’’ and casting its mission in the language of inclusiveness. Yet Einstein
counters that this language is simply ‘‘a repackaging of conservatism, a revision in the
marketing strategy, and it has helped megachurches gain more and more congregants,
increasing their influence in the political sphere because of their numbers, while at
the same time more liberal churches decline.’’45
Packaging and branding aside, many of these churches preserve political
commitments that are consonant with more aggressive organizations such as
Concerned Women for America, The Family Research Council, or Focus on the
Family.46 The strong affiliations between these groups and the Republican Party mean
that the growth of ‘‘non-denominational’’ evangelicals in the United States has
consequences not only for religion but also for politics. Without stating so directly*
tax laws prevent mega-churches from campaigning for particular political
candidates*these conservative churches encourage their congregants to ‘‘vote your
values’’ or ‘‘vote Christian,’’ with a clear understanding that these messages favor one
party over another.47 Meanwhile, as the faithful are promised lives full of ‘‘wealth’’*
as in Joel Osteen’s vision*or ‘‘purpose’’*as in Rick Warren’s*their support for
evangelical Christianity contributes to a vision of politics in the United States that is,
at times, startlingly anti-democratic.48
Although mega-churches and their ilk emphasize lifestyle over theology, their
growing influence has helped legitimize the fundamentalist commitments that
characterize so much of conservative politics. As Twitchell reports, consumercongregants may purchase The Passion of the Christ keepsakes inside the gift shops
located within mega-churches. Meanwhile, the film Left Behind: World at War became
the first movie to premiere only in churches, on 3,200 screens around the country.49
Critics lament that this form of marketing constitutes a perversion of religion and
mass consumption called ‘‘Christotainment.’’ In particular, these efforts pair
entertainment spectacles with absolutist claims about morality and salvation, often
using fear appeals to stoke anxiety and compel acquiescence to fundamentalist
commitments.50 Joe Kincheloe argues that the infiltration of fundamentalism into the
Republican Party has advanced the causes of ‘‘creationism in public schools, capital
punishment for doctors who perform abortions, stricter sodomy laws, more
preemptive wars, bans on single mothers teaching in ‘government schools,’ a Biblebased legal system, and many more right-wing issues.’’51 Consistent with the megachurch’s claim to being non-denominational, Christotainment masks the political
commitments that lie beneath the surface of what appears only to be ‘‘entertainment.’’ Kincheloe thus contends that ‘‘political fundamentalist media experts have
become adept at framing their narratives in a way that makes sense in pop-cultural,
entertainment-based settings.’’52
If music is just music, and a movie is only a movie, then it makes it far easier for
Americans to see new forms of evangelicalism as consumption as usual. It also further
blurs the lines between evangelical Christianity, which might entail a range of
political commitments, and fundamentalism, which has a far more rigid political
worldview. This has dire consequences, both for religion and politics. My focus in this
Saved at Home 317
essay is on the political; however, it is crucial to note that the preceding critique of
contemporary evangelicalism is not intended to discredit Christianity in the broad
sense. Rather, there are proponents of Christianity*conservative, liberal, and
otherwise*who object to the branding of Christ for many reasons, some of which
I will return to later. What I focus on for the moment is that the rhetoric of branding
belies the political conservatism lurking behind many Christian promotional
campaigns. Fundamentalism is more than a lifestyle. It asks its adherents to choose
up sides, and it identifies clear enemies. In other words, it depends on a variation of
an ‘‘us’’ versus ‘‘them’’ logic that makes it an exemplar of anti-democratic discourse.
Thus, the advent of ‘‘Faith Events’’ in sport more broadly, and in baseball specifically,
should be met with caution. Regrettably, the promotional logic that binds
Christianity to the ‘‘church of baseball’’ mirrors the strategies of mega-churches
and Christotainment. To better grasp the rhetorical effect of Faith Night, I next turn
to the historical relationship between religion and baseball.
Take Me Out to . . . Salvation
From the ‘‘cosmic mountains’’ that are its pitcher’s mounds to the ‘‘green cathedrals’’
that are its ballparks, baseball has often been granted a religious significance in
American culture.53 To be sure, there exists a consonance between baseball and
religion that contributes to its rich mythology. For example, the game owes its origins
to an ‘‘immaculate conception,’’ the moment in 1839 when Abner Doubleday
‘‘invented’’ its rules. It matters little that this narrative is false, as the rhetorical effect
links the American game with a creation myth that resonates far more persuasively
than the ‘‘true’’ story of baseball’s urban invention.54 Moreover, baseball history is
replete with saviors and sinners, and the game on the field is neatly arranged and
regulated through liturgical ritual. Conflating baseball with religion is not
uncomplicated, however. Although some scholars contend that sport in general
can be thought of as religious in and of itself, others caution that such an alliance
makes sport unnecessarily serious and diminishes religion’s ability to transcend
human experience. In the words of Robert Higgs and Michael Braswell:
The danger of attempting to make sport a religion, even one qualified by the word
‘‘popular,’’ is the distinct possibility of an opposite effect, legitimizing religion as
sports, trivializing the grand purposes of religions in spite of failures that all human
institutions experience.55
It should be emphasized that even for those who suggest sport is a ‘‘civil’’ or ‘‘folk’’
religion, the intention is not merely to use religion as a convenient metaphor for
explaining the passion for sport in American culture. Rather, sport is understood, as
religion can be, as a vehicle through which identities, relationships, and institutions
are constituted and managed. ‘‘In a secular culture where sport often acts as a form of
civil religion,’’ notes Steven Overman, ‘‘public sports ceremonies have displaced
religious ones.’’56
318 M. L. Butterworth
Baseball, as the so-called ‘‘national pastime,’’ is an especially representative site to
examine the rhetorical production of civil religion. The contemporary notion of civil
religion, associated with Robert Bellah’s 1967 essay on the subject, grounds American
identity in the ‘‘collection of beliefs, symbols, and rituals with respect to sacred things
and institutionalized in a collectivity.’’57 Significantly, Bellah notes that although
American political institutions are shaped by a faith in religion, ‘‘this religion is
clearly not itself Christianity.’’58 Yet, as Hughes clarifies, ‘‘America’s civic faith draws
on Christianity at many points. Indeed, it overlaps with the Christian tradition in so
many ways that many Christians fail to distinguish the one from the other.’’59 Thus,
even as the nation’s founding was rooted in a Unitarian conception of God, it has
been impossible to escape the influence of Protestantism on American collective
identity. Consequently, discourses of American identity commonly default to a
mythology that hails the United States as a ‘‘Christian’’ nation.
This mythology operates as an important commonplace for fundamentalism’s
rhetorical strategies detailed in the preceding section of this essay. With 84 percent of
Americans identifying themselves as ‘‘Christian,’’ and 57 percent of those calling
themselves ‘‘Protestant,’’60 it is of little surprise that so many subscribe to the idea
that the United States was intended by its founders to be distinctly Christian. Yet this
perception is grounded in a mythology that has been constructed rhetorically over
the course of US history. As Isaac Kramnick and R. Laurence Moore contend, ‘‘The
framers erected a godless federal constitutional structure, which was then undermined as God entered first the US currency in 1863, then the federal mail service in
1912, and finally the Pledge of Allegiance in 1954.’’61 These initiatives, combined with
repeated iterations of Christian mythology in popular culture, have ‘‘absolutized this
myth’’ so that it has become ‘‘a badge of cultural superiority.’’62 The consequence is
that the ‘‘American Way of Life’’ has been articulated with Christianity to the extent
that public affirmations of non-Christian commitments are often treated with
skepticism or hostility.
Few institutions are more associated with the American Way of Life than baseball.
Historically, the game has operated alongside, and often times complemented,
discourses of evangelical Christianity. As the Baptist Press declares, ‘‘Baseball and faith
have for decades ridden shotgun together at the fore of the nation’s collective
consciousness.’’63 For instance, the game’s development during industrialization
overlapped with the years (18651890) that Marsden refers to as a time of
‘‘evangelical empire’’ in the United States.64 Various influences enabled the growth
of evangelicalism at this time, including the formation of the Southern Baptist
Convention in 1845, the introduction of premillennial theology by the English
evangelical John Nelson Darby, and the first attempt to establish a Constitutional
amendment recognizing ‘‘the rulership of Jesus Christ and the supremacy of the
divine law,’’ in 1863.65 These developments overlapped with the general culture
promoted during the Victorian era, in which ‘‘virtue among the citizenry . . . was the
foundation of successful civilization, especially a republican civilization. Religion was
the basis for true virtue; the purer the religion, the higher the morality. Christianity
was the purest religion.’’66
Saved at Home 319
If Christianity was seen as the purest form of religion, then baseball was the purest
form of sport. As the game emerged in the 1850s and 1860s as a major cultural
institution, it was shaped almost exclusively by men of white, Protestant heritage.
Baseball’s founders feared that immigrants and the working class would jeopardize
the Victorian virtue embodied in the game.67 This fear was manifest in policies that
prohibited the sale of alcohol, limited obscene language and behavior, and disallowed
playing games on Sundays. Such sensitivity to proper gentlemanly behavior was
entirely consistent with the rhetoric of civilization that was prominent in the
nineteenth century. Thus, as Christopher Evans explains, by the end of the 1880s:
Baseball became the undisputed national game largely because it presented itself as
a sport that reflected popular sentiments of Victorian middle-class maleness. In the
eyes of its prognosticators, the game balanced rugged manliness and athletic
acumen with social acceptability. The next step was to equate the game’s origins
with the ethos of America’s national destiny.68
That move was made, Evans argues, by Albert Spalding, whose 1911 book,
America’s National Game, introduced the metaphor of an immaculate conception to
explain baseball’s origins. This religious symbolism was evident through Spalding’s
decision to form a commission designed to define the game as unequivocally
American. In the words of David Voigt, Spalding was ‘‘unscrupulous in his
chauvinistic determination to ‘prove’ the American origin of the game.’’69 Organized
in 1905, the Mills Commission was comprised of senators, league officials, and one
Civil War veteran, A.G. Mills. Mills delivered the final report on December 30, 1907,
and provided the answer that Spalding had hoped for: ‘‘That Baseball had its origin
in the United States.’’70 Confirmation of baseball’s unique ‘‘Americanness’’ operated
in concert with political claims to ‘‘manifest destiny’’ and national discourses of
‘‘Americanization.’’71 Thus, Evans summarizes that ‘‘baseball symbolized an American
faith that the world could be subjugated by the superior values of the United States.
Baseball symbolized not only American uniqueness, but in its own way reinforced a
message that God was on our side.’’72
More than a century later, these developments constitute the rhetorical foundation
of a mythology that persists to the present day. From the evangelical sermons of
baseball player-turned-preacher Billy Sunday at the turn of the twentieth century, to
the development of Baseball Chapel in the 1970s, the ‘‘national pastime’’ has
consistently been used by evangelicals to advance the purported Christian essence of
the United States.73 More recently, the conflation of religion and national identity has
been evidenced by the ubiquity of ‘‘God Bless America’’ performances at baseball
games. At Bud Selig’s direction, the song was part of all baseball games during the
2002 season. Since then, it has been performed at home openers, Sunday games,
playoff games, and special events such as holidays.74 Especially during nationally
televised games, ‘‘God Bless America’’ serves as a ritual that reaffirms the nation’s
place before God, a ritual all too often enabled by the announcers of the game.
During a playoff game at Yankee Stadium in October of 2003, for example, Fox playby-play announcer Joe Buck praised the seventh-inning stretch performance by
320 M. L. Butterworth
Ronan Tynan, the ‘‘Irish Tenor.’’ The song, he insisted, was emotional ‘‘night after
night . . . in such a beautiful way. It resonates with you after you leave the ballpark.’’75
If ‘‘God Bless America’’ hails a religious sensibility, then the recent advent of ‘‘Faith
Events’’ explicitly moves religion inside the church of baseball. These events began
with a single Nashville Sounds minor league game in 2002. In subsequent years, more
than 75 different annual events were scheduled for minor- and major-league
stadiums.76 A creation of Third Coast Sports, Inc.*which began as a sports
marketing firm and is now a non-profit foundation*Faith Night typically features
performances from Christian entertainers and testimonials from players. Brent High,
who initially developed Faith Nights while working for the Sounds and now heads
Third Coast Sports, views these promotions as part of an evangelical mission, to ‘‘use
sporting events as a chance to reach out to those that don’t have a church home.’’77
Faith Events, then, are overtly framed as rhetorical moments, a strategy that raises
concerns about using the church of baseball as a site for branding Christ.
‘‘Baseball, Faith, and Americana’’
Baseball has a long tradition of using gimmicks and giveaways to draw people to
games. These have ranged from relatively simple, game-related promotions such as
‘‘80s Night’’ or ‘‘Floppy Hat Day,’’ to more innovative promotions such as ‘‘Dog Day
Afternoons,’’ when fans bring their dogs to the game, or ‘‘All You Can Eat Seats,’’
which allows fans to pre-purchase as much food as they can eat from the ballpark’s
concession stands. Especially at minor league games, where fans often are more
interested in the general experience of baseball than the fate of a particular team,
marketing personnel can be remarkably creative in their efforts to draw people to the
ballpark. Among those offered recently include ‘‘Speed Dating Night’’ in New Britain,
Connecticut, ‘‘We Hate the Yankees Night’’ in Greenville, South Carolina, and ‘‘Toilet
Seat Cushion Night,’’ in Fishkill, New York.78 Given that such promotional efforts are
so commonly trivial or intentionally silly, one might be worried that holding Faith
Night in between ‘‘Back-to-School Backpack Giveaway’’ and ‘‘Dollar Dog Night’’*as
the Nashville Sounds did in 2009*might undermine its evangelical potential.79 Yet I
argue that it is precisely because Faith Night slides so comfortably into the common
language of baseball promotions that its rhetorical implications are easy to miss.
Brent High frequently speaks in marketing terms when he notes the growing
popularity of Faith Nights. ‘‘Team executives like dollars and fans,’’ he says, ‘‘and
Faith Nights bring both.’’80 Indeed, for many in the business of selling tickets, these
events have been welcome additions to minor and major league promotional
schedules. In the words of C.J. Johnson, marketing director for the Class A
Hagerstown Suns, ‘‘Baseball, faith, and Americana, it’s a perfect fit.’’81 There is
most certainly some truth to this claim, evidenced by the steady growth of these
events. And although most Faith Nights still take place in minor-league stadiums,
Third Coast Sports has now worked with 10 major league franchises as well. As the
Memphis Commercial Appeal describes, ‘‘The combination of a pregame Christian
concert, a personal Christian testimony from a ballplayer, post-game fireworks show
Saved at Home 321
and giveaways that included bobbleheads of Biblical characters such as Moses, Noah,
and Samson [have] proved enormously successful.’’82 Meanwhile, numerous nonThird Coast variations on the theme can be found across the country, usually under
the banner of ‘‘family’’ or ‘‘faith and family’’ events.
High is wary of what he calls ‘‘ambush evangelism,’’ so he has made efforts to keep
the proselytizing mostly out of sight.83 Ushers do not hand out Bibles at the aisles.
There are no baptisms taking place in the outfield between innings. Beer still flows at
the concession stands. In other words, all might appear to be baseball*and
business*as usual. Nevertheless, Faith Night does constitute a different baseball
experience: ushers may not hand out Bibles, but some church officials do; instead of a
player bobble-head, fans might receive one of Moses; advertisements for evangelical
churches and Christian-based organizations dot stadium concourses; and, perhaps
most significantly, the large numbers of fans who arrive as congregations makes
Christianity noticeably present. Yet, High emulates the rhetorical strategies of megachurches by emphasizing the purported inclusiveness of the event. ‘‘Faith,’’ after all, is
an open-ended term that appears to welcome believers of many different stripes.
More accurately, however, the ‘‘faith’’ in Faith Nights refers only to a particular
brand*evangelical Christianity*and herein lies the risk to democratic pluralism.
At this juncture, I want to clarify that this assessment should not be read as an
effort to construct a fixed and static audience out of what are necessarily diverse
groups: evangelical Christians and baseball fans. As Christian Lundberg writes in his
analysis of The Passion of The Christ, a rhetorical critique cannot be about the
‘‘impossible task of defining a unitary public.’’84 Both evangelicals and baseball fans
are constituted as audiences contingently, always subject to contestation and
reinvention. However, Faith Nights are designed to articulate the ‘‘church of
baseball’’ to particular religious commitments, with the idea of minimizing rhetorical
contestation. Thus, my task is to assess the hegemonic influence of a narrowly defined
Christian discourse within an ostensibly ecumenical space. I have attended three
Faith Events at baseball games in recent years: July 19, 2007 in Fort Wayne, Indiana;
July 26, 2008 in Akron, Ohio; and August 2, 2009 in Cincinnati, Ohio. When I
attended the Class A Fort Wayne Wizards (now Tin Caps) game, I was struck by the
number of church groups who were conspicuous in their attendance. Their presence
was evident by the variety of t-shirts that announced their faith: ‘‘Jesus Patrol,’’ ‘‘Jesus
Freak,’’ or ‘‘Jesus: That’s My Final Answer,’’ to name only a few. In fact, from the
promotional signage I saw when entering the ballpark, to the scoreboard greetings to
church congregations in attendance, to the t-shirt wearing fans, it was clear that one
could have simply changed the name from ‘‘Faith Night’’ to ‘‘Jesus Night.’’
The overt evangelical influence was extended by the presence of a life-sized tomato
and cucumber. For those unfamiliar, the tomato is Bob and the cucumber is Larry,
and as characters in the popular evangelical Christian television, movie, and book
series VeggieTales, they are widely recognized by children throughout the United
States. Bob and Larry spent parts of the game commiserating with the crowd and
even sang ‘‘Take Me Out to the Ball Game’’ during the seventh-inning stretch. While
the Christian identity of Bob and Larry may not be readily apparent, the same cannot
322 M. L. Butterworth
be said of the musical performers who are also standard parts of Faith Night. When
I attended the game in Akron, I made sure to arrive early so I could catch a glimpse of
the Christian punk band, Hawk Nelson. Rather than purchasing the extra ticket to
enter the concert grounds, I watched from the outer concourse of the ballpark, as did
many other non-Faith Night participants. The band sounded pretty good, and an
enthusiastic crowd sang along and bought t-shirts and other souvenirs. Hawk Nelson
is one of the regular performers for Faith Nights, along with MercyMe and Stephen
Curtis Chapman. Chapman, one of the most successful artists in contemporary
Christian music, was the main attraction for the post-game concert at the game
I attended in Cincinnati. Over 31,000 people were in attendance that day and,
according to an employee in the Cincinnati Reds Communications and Marketing
office, at least 12,000 of those tickets were purchased through either group sales or
the Faith Day website.85 The game in Cincinnati provides the most illustrative case of
the rhetorical work being done by these promotions. I focus on this specific event for
two primary reasons. First, because it is a Major League Baseball (MLB) game, it
speaks with greater credibility and to a much larger audience. Both the Fort Wayne
Tin Caps and Akron Aeros play in stadiums that seat fewer than 10,000 people, and
neither of them appear regularly on television. The Cincinnati Reds, by contrast, play
in Great American Ballpark, which seats over 42,000, and all of their games are
broadcast on a regional Fox Sports network. Second, unlike the minor league games,
the Reds event was sponsored. Thus, instead of just Faith Day, I attended the
‘‘Creation Museum Faith Day, presented by Prasco.’’
Part of my critique of Faith Nights is that the privileging of evangelical Christianity
normalizes the presence of a particular religious perspective, one that seeks to
contract rather than expand the range of democratic inclusion. Evidence of this is
found in the relationships between conservative Christian churches and conservative
political efforts. Thus, it is important to make sense of the moments in which these
relationships are made explicit, and the sponsorship of Faith Day by the Creation
Museum is one such moment.86 During the pre-game ceremonial first pitch, the Reds
public address announcer declared, ‘‘The Cincinnati Reds are proud to support area
businesses . . . like the Creation Museum,’’ as Dan Mangus, Senior Director of the
museum, walked on to the field to throw out a ceremonial first pitch. This
announcement produced no discernible reaction among the more than 31,000 in
attendance. It should have, however, because among the many things the Creation
Museum is, it is most certainly not a business. Rather, it is a fundamentalist effort to
refute scientific theories of evolution and to assert the primacy of the Bible. Operated
by a non-profit organization, Answers in Genesis of Kentucky, Inc., the museum is
open ‘‘for the purpose of exalting Jesus Christ as Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer
through a safe, wholesome, family-friendly center for learning and discovery that
clearly presents major biblical themes from Genesis to Revelation.’’87
The themes presented in the Creation Museum have generated tremendous interest
from adherents and critics alike. Answers in Genesis (AiG hereafter) is committed to
a ‘‘Young Earth Creationist’’ theology, from which they argue that the earth was
created by God in six days approximately 6,000 years ago. The organization argues
Saved at Home 323
that humans and dinosaurs co-existed, and the museum offers numerous displays to
dramatize this. AiG founder and president, Ken Ham, indicates that the museum is
organized around the ‘‘Six Cs of History’’: creation, corruption, catastrophe, confusion, Christ, and consummation. In addition, there is a ‘‘Culture in Crisis’’ room,
which warns against the ‘‘evils’’ of gay marriage, extra-marital sex, and abortion.88
The $27 million facility is located on a 49-acre site in Petersburg, Kentucky, not far
from Cincinnati. In its first year alone, it drew over 400,000 visitors, far exceeding an
initial goal of 250,000.
More than simply offering state-of-the-art animatronic dinosaurs and contesting
standard scientific perspectives on evolution, the Creation Museum is specifically
intended to evangelize. Ham sees AiG’s and the Creation Museum’s mission in
clear rhetorical terms, as a response to the perceived decline of Christianity in the
United States. ‘‘[Christians] are tired of being beat up in this nation and angry at
losing battles over abortion, over the placing of the Ten Commandments in public
places and about prayers in school,’’ he states. ‘‘They see [the museum] as making a
very bold public statement to our modern culture and to the world that the Bible is
true and we can defend it.’’89 Through these words, Ham positions Christians*the
overwhelming majority in the United States*as a subaltern minority, forever at the
mercy of the secular humanists who dictate politics. As Crowley suggests, ‘‘this tactic
aims at securing sympathy for the Christian cause at the same time as it solidifies
group identity by painting a picture of beleaguered Christians holding together in the
face of onslaught by a powerful enemy.’’90 Meanwhile, Lundberg demonstrates that
‘‘tropes of evangelical marginality’’ constitute ‘‘an identity commitment at the core of
American Evangelicalism.’’91 And while Ham’s words attempt to identify AiG with
Christianity more broadly, it is clear that the Creation Museum must be understood
as a specific iteration of Christian fundamentalism.
Although the language of marketing creates the impression that Faith Day is just
another way to promote a ‘‘brand,’’ it is difficult to defend the articulation of
Christianity with baseball as simple support for a local ‘‘business.’’ Yet the decision to
hold Faith Day in the first place depends on this very logic. As a group sales manager
for one major league team insists, ‘‘There’s no hidden agenda. Faith Day to us is
simply a great way to sell tickets. Everything we do as an organization is geared to
that.’’92 Yet the logic of branding and marketing obscures the more subtle distinctions
between this promotion and others such as ‘‘Ladies Night’’ or ‘‘Latin American
Heritage Night.’’ Tom Krattenmaker, who writes about public religion for USA Today,
points out that ‘‘special ballpark nights for Hispanics, Shriners, or employees of a
given corporation, for example, are not promoting an exclusive message concerning
eternal salvation, and they do not typically mount endorsement testimonials from
representatives of the home team.’’93
It is the exclusions implied by Faith Night that prompt the strongest concerns
about the anti-democratic nature of these events. Echoing the sales-oriented theme of
previously quoted officials, Chartese Burnett, Vice President for Communications
with the Washington Nationals, defended his team’s use of the promotion by stating,
‘‘Our purpose was to garner ticket sales. It had nothing to do with faith; it had to do
324 M. L. Butterworth
with being inclusive.’’ Although it is obvious that teams are interested in ticket sales,
it is not at all clear why Faith Night would be understood as ‘‘inclusive.’’ To the
contrary, it is the exclusive privileging of evangelical Christianity that has provoked
criticisms from Jewish and InterFaith groups. Shmuel Herzfeld, a rabbi in
Washington, DC, for example, referred to the event as ‘‘offensive and exclusionary.
It sends a message that kids of a different faith aren’t welcome.’’ Meanwhile, Clark
Lobenstine, executive director of the InterFaith Conference of Metropolitan
Washington, contends, ‘‘It really should be called ‘Jesus Night.’ If they were really
interested in Faith Night and had all 11 of [the faith groups in the conference]
coming, people who are promoting Faith Night wouldn’t want to come.’’94
It is not merely that faith events include appearances and performances by openly
Christian entertainers. It is also that the events’ organizer, Third Coast Sports,
partners with other religious organizations that are explicitly, and exclusively,
Christian. For example, a Colorado Rockies Faith Night in 2008 was sponsored by
Colorado Christian College, which provided university promotional brochures and
Gospel of John tracts for fans who were walking the concourse. Colorado Christian
embraces the tenets of the ‘‘evangelical-capitalist resonance machine,’’ as is evidenced
by the university president’s stated commitment to ‘‘traditional family values, sanctity
of life, compassion for the poor, biblical view of human nature, limited government,
personal freedom, free markets, natural law, original intent of the Constitution and
Western civilization.’’ The university’s ultimate mission, he insists, is that ‘‘We teach
Jesus is Lord.’’95
While the sponsorship by Colorado Christian reveals why ‘‘Faith Night’’ is more
appropriately understood as ‘‘Jesus Night,’’ no better example illustrates the political
problems with these partnerships than the first Faith Night held at a major league
stadium, in Atlanta in 2006. Among the sponsors High solicited for the game between
the Marlins and Braves was Focus on the Family, headed by James Dobson. Dobson
and his group are in many ways representative of the articulations that are now
commonplace between Christianity and conservative politics. As Crowley summarizes, the ideology promoted by these articulations is ‘‘antifeminist, and they reject
as well legal and social practices they define as endorsing the rights of individuals over
those of the family unit*divorce, sex, education, and abortion, for example.’’96
Moreover, Focus on the Family’s strong condemnation of lesbians and gays
antagonized portions of the Atlanta community that had previously held the
organization in relatively high esteem. Thus, far from cultivating inclusion, the
Braves’ Faith Night yielded controversy and division.97
Because its presence provoked a backlash in Atlanta, Focus on the Family was not
invited to sponsor any more faith events at the major league level. However, Third
Coast Sports and Focus on the Family maintained their relationship at minor
league games, where an additional 10 faith events were sponsored by Dobson’s
organization.98 Meanwhile, another component from that Braves game remains an
essential ingredient to the Third Coast mission. Arguably, the highlight for those who
attend Faith Night is the opportunity to hear players, in some cases major stars, share
their testimony. For Atlanta fans in 2006, few athletes had earned as much admiration
Saved at Home 325
as pitcher John Smoltz. Smoltz was part of the vaunted Braves pitching staff
throughout the 1990s, and since his conversion to Christianity in 1995 he has been a
vocal advocate for evangelism. In his own words, ‘‘I would like for everyone to know
the joy I have known since 1995. I want to share that joy and I want to be open and
unashamed about my faith, but I also realize I can’t force my beliefs on others.’’99
Here again is a language of understanding and tolerance that is contradicted by
Smoltz’s deeper commitments being advanced. For instance, he has been an
outspoken critic of same-sex marriage. In 2004, he asked sarcastically, ‘‘What’s
next? Marrying an animal?’’100 More broadly, Smoltz’s testimonials at faith events are
problematic because he makes it clear that one’s place in heaven can be assured only
by embracing a fundamentalist commitment. In 2006 he said, ‘‘I’ve heard, ‘Just
believe anything. There are many paths.’ [But] I want to trust the Bible to be
absolutely true.’’101 From this view, not all faiths are granted legitimacy, and the world
is clearly divided between ‘‘us’’ and ‘‘them’’*i.e., ‘‘saved’’ and ‘‘unsaved.’’
Smoltz is far from alone in seeing baseball as a testimonial vehicle. Joseph Price
explains that in recent years, Christian media requests for player interviews and
outreach programs developed by Baseball Chapel have ‘‘emboldened’’ players who
wish to speak publicly about their faith. In this way, the rhetorical efforts of Faith
Nights, during which player testimonials are not delivered to the crowd as a whole,
are replicated by players who are increasingly comfortable declaring their Christian
commitments. Thus, players such as the already outspoken Curt Schilling use their
visibility ‘‘to be able to glorify God’s name.’’102 This position is echoed by Albert
Pujols, arguably the best major league player of the 2000s. After a 2007 ‘‘Christian
Family Day’’ at St. Louis’ Busch Stadium, where instead of regular baseball cards fans
received ‘‘testimony cards’’ depicting their favorite players, Pujols defended the
purpose of the event against potential criticism. ‘‘I don’t think we’re offending
anybody. We’re bringing our Christian testimony to people who need to hear it. What
better place for that than a ballpark?’’103
Pujols’ comments reveal the rhetorical slippage between using faith events merely
as a marketing tool to increase ticket sales and the overtly persuasive intent of those
involved with the event itself. Indeed, his claim that baseball audiences need to hear
his message is fundamentally at odds with any conception of the ‘‘national pastime’’
as a pluralistic institution. After all, one could just as easily argue that fans need to
hear messages that warn them against global warming or argue to legalize same-sex
marriage. It is safe to assume that such ‘‘needs’’ would be met with vocal resistance
(perhaps with good reason). In addition, the idea that there is no better place than a
ballpark for evangelism takes the church of baseball far too literally. As Krattenmaker
points out, ‘‘Sports franchises are quasi-public resources (through taxes and other
civic backing) that belong to the religiously diverse communities that support
them.’’104 The ballparks in the communities discussed in this essay*Atlanta,
Cincinnati, and Washington, DC*were each subsidized largely through public
funds, especially taxes. In the case of Nationals Stadium in the nation’s capital, the
entire $611 million project was funded through public sources.105 Thus, when citizens
and religious leaders object to faith events they have good reason to claim that a
326 M. L. Butterworth
shared public space is being used to the detriment of the community it purportedly
represents. As Krattenmaker concedes, ‘‘Evangelical religiosity in sports has not
reached the point where there is any documented evidence of it driving away
significant fans.’’106 Yet, the issue is not whether or not fans are so turned off by Faith
Night that they cease to attend games, nor is it whether or not these events actually
convert large numbers to Christianity. Rather, what is at stake is the expansion of
Christianity’s hegemonic influence, an influence that normalizes the presence of a
restricted religious and political worldview at the expense of a healthier democratic
pluralism.
Keeping the Faith?
Although baseball is no longer the most popular sport in the United States, it
arguably retains more rhetorical significance than any of its competitors. This
significance can be attributed, at least in part, to game’s ability to actualize the
democratic ideals of the nation. Indeed, this ecumenical spirit is one of the great
virtues of the ‘‘church of baseball.’’ Thus, the moments and movements that
undermine inclusion and pluralism demand critical attention. With the rise of Faith
Nights, it is clear that a restrictive and politically problematic worldview is present in
ballparks across the country. What began as one-time promotion designed to appeal
to local conservative Christians has now blossomed into a nationwide evangelical
movement. From the preceding analysis there are at least three implications of this
phenomenon.
First, it is evident that sporting events are rhetorical performances. As has been
demonstrated elsewhere, a baseball or basketball game functions in service of
important communal values. Moreover, the ritualistic nature of commercial sport has
the capacity to induce audiences to accept particular political commitments as
legitimate or normal.107 In the case of Faith Nights, those commitments are largely
masked by the religious message of the events themselves. Thus, in spite of the
political machinery at work behind the scenes, baseball fans are invited to participate
in a ‘‘non-denominational’’ discourse that promotes ‘‘faith’’ as if everyone was
included equally. Moreover, because sport is commonly understood to be apolitical,
Faith Nights are able to deploy the logic of marketing so as to appear no different
than the many ballpark promotions to which fans are accustomed. What is important
here is the recognition that sport is not a distraction from socio-political issues; rather, it
is a constitutive site in which these issues are communicated.
Second, by working fundamentalist commitments into the church of baseball,
Faith Nights threaten the health of democratic pluralism. Returning to Crowley’s
argument, fundamentalism remains a minority perspective even within conservative
Christian discourses, let alone the broader discourses that constitute American
political culture. Nevertheless, the political influence of fundamentalism is undeniable. Through events such as ‘‘Faith Night,’’ it is the construction of an exclusive
‘‘us’’ and ‘‘them’’*that is, ‘‘saved’’ and ‘‘unsaved’’*that most threatens the
pluralistic spirit that allows baseball to be a representative institution of civil religion.
Saved at Home 327
Michael-John DePalma, Jeffrey Ringer, and Jim Webber argue that Crowley unwittingly reproduces the attitude that she critiques. Because they interpret her view of
democracy as procedural*‘‘To participate in such a democracy, one must play by the
ground rules she establishes’’*they contend that she writes Christian fundamentalists out of the drama of democracy. Endorsing instead the attitude of Kenneth Burke,
they insist that ‘‘democracy fails when any opposition is silenced.’’108
I do not believe, nor do I think would Crowley, that a critique of Faith Nights
entails the silencing of Christian fundamentalism. Indeed, it would hypocritical to
suggest that conservative Christians have no place in the ‘‘church of baseball.’’ But my
effort is not to exclude this particular religious variant from the democratic mix.
Rather, it is to caution against the normalization of this particular variant as well as
the implicit endorsement of it by professional sports organizations that host Faith
Events in publicly subsidized facilities. Perhaps the most reasonable answer comes
from Krattenmaker, who suggests that ‘‘the ultimate accommodation lies in
pluralism, the model wherein followers of different faiths, or none, share the
territory*if not always comfortably, at least in a fashion where all views are allowed,
and no one camp drives out the rest.’’109 This position is fundamentally a rhetorical
one, wherein agonistic contests are permitted between competing positions. It also
speaks of a core democratic principle, the idea that ‘‘a diverse culture is one in which
pluralistic virtues of public accountability, self-discipline, receptive listening, grittedteeth tolerance of some things you hate, and a commitment to justice are widespread.’’110 Moreover, and perhaps more importantly, maintaining a legitimate space
for evangelical Christianity within the ‘‘church of baseball’’ enables the reinvention
and rearticulation of conservative religious perspectives. From this view, Christian
fundamentalists may be seen as an adversary of secularists and other religious
adherents, but they are not excluded from democratic culture as enemies.111
Finally, if Faith Nights risk doing damage to baseball as a democratic institution,
they also risk diminishing Christianity as a religious one. Clearly, there are secularists
and academics that are uncomfortable with the conflation of conservative
Christianity with conservative politics. Yet there also are Christians uncomfortable
with this relationship. For example, Jim Wallis writes:
Many of us feel that our faith has been stolen, and it’s time to take it back. In
particular, an enormous public misrepresentation of Christianity has taken place.
And because of an almost uniform media misperception, many people around the
world now think Christian faith stands for political commitments that are almost
the opposite of its true meaning.112
Wallis’ arguments against war and his efforts to redress poverty may align him with
more ‘‘progressive’’ political positions. Yet, as the USA Today reports, there are
‘‘conservative’’ Christians who echo this critique. In particular, a group of
‘‘conservative Christian leaders who believe the word ‘evangelical’ has lost its religious
meaning plan to release a starkly self-critical document saying the movement has
become too political and has diminished the Gospel through its approach to the
culture wars.’’113
328 M. L. Butterworth
Worries about the politicization of Christianity are not exclusively, or even
primarily, about the presence of Christianity in sport. Nevertheless, by pairing Faith
Night promotions with conservative sponsors such as the Creation Museum,
Colorado Christian University, or Focus on the Family, sport becomes an extension
of the broader political controversies that precipitate the critiques above. In addition,
the very logic of sports marketing risks trivializing the weightier concerns of any
organized religion. If faith in Jesus becomes more about identifying with a brand than
identifying with religious doctrine, then Christianity becomes primarily a ‘‘lifestyle,’’
another commodity to be marketed within the ‘‘evangelical-capitalist resonance
machine.’’ To this end, both secularists on the political Left and Christians on the
political Right have reason to view Faith Nights with disfavor.
Ultimately, the critique of Faith Nights is not an attempt to eliminate religious
discourses from public life. Rather, it is an effort to capture the agonistic spirit of a
vital democratic culture, one in which various and partisan positions are given equal
respect and access to politics. The reduction of Christianity to a brand does damage
to this spirit. As Connolly insists, there must be opportunities for those on the nonChristian Left to be able ‘‘to pursue active alliances with Christians in several walks of
life who resist the contemporary evangelical-capitalist machine.’’114 Were we to do so,
then perhaps the national pastime might become the ‘‘church of baseball’’ after all.
Notes
[1]
[2]
[3]
[4]
[5]
[6]
[7]
[8]
[9]
[10]
[11]
[12]
Quoted in Tom Krattenmaker, ‘‘Going Long for Jesus,’’ Salon.com, May 10, 2006, http://
www.salon.com/news/feature/2006/05/10/ministries/print.html.
Roberta Newman, ‘‘The American Church of Baseball and the National Baseball Hall of
Fame,’’ Nine: A Journal of Baseball History and Social Policy 10 (2001): 50, 62.
Ron Shelton, dir., Bull Durham (MGM, 1988); Michael L. Butterworth, ‘‘Ritual in the
‘Church of Baseball’: Suppressing the Discourse of Democracy after 9/11,’’ Communication
and Critical/Cultural Studies 2 (2005): 10729.
Lou Gelfand, ‘‘Baseball and Religion Have Their Place*Separately,’’ Minneapolis StarTribune, March 30, 2008, http://www.startribune.com/business/17114886.html.
Albert G. Spalding, America’s National Game, Bison Book ed., ed. Benjamin Rader (Lincoln:
University of Nebraska Press, 1992), 6.
Quoted in Richard C. Crepeau, Baseball: America’s Diamond Mind 19191941 (Orlando:
University Presses of Florida, 1980), 25.
Francis Trevelyan Miller, ‘‘Introduction,’’ in Connie Mack, My 66 Years in Baseball, Connie
Mack with Francis Trevelyan Miller (New York: Winston, 1950).
For examples of baseball’s mythic enactment of democracy, see Michael L. Butterworth,
‘‘Race in ‘The Race’: Mark McGwire, Sammy Sosa, and Heroic Constructions of
Whiteness,’’ Critical Studies in Media Communication 24 (2007): 22844; and Jane Juffer,
‘‘Who’s the Man? Sammy Sosa, Latinos, and Televisual Redefinitions of the ‘American
Pastime,’’’ Journal of Sport & Social Issues 26 (2002): 33759.
Chantal Mouffe, The Democratic Paradox (London: Verso, 2000), 1516.
Mouffe, The Democratic Paradox, 1012.
Chantal Mouffe, The Return of the Political (London: Verso, 1993), 97.
Steven J. Overman, The Influence of the Protestant Ethic on Sport and Recreation (Aldershot:
Avebury, 1997), 141.
Saved at Home 329
[13]
[14]
[15]
[16]
[17]
[18]
[19]
[20]
[21]
[22]
[23]
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Quoted in Mark Newman, ‘‘Obama Kicks Off Historic Night in St. Louis,’’ MLB.com,
July 14, 2009, http://mlb.mlb.com/news/article.jsp?ymd20090714&content_id5874014&
vkeynews_mlb&fext.jsp&c_idmlb.
Robert N. Bellah, ‘‘Civil Religion in America,’’ Daedalus 96 (1967): 121.
Quoted in William C. Rhoden, ‘‘Delgado Makes a Stand by Taking a Seat,’’ New York Times,
July 21, 2004, http://web.lexis-nexis.com/universe.
Indeed, the effects of this normalization can be seen any time someone dares to disrupt the
sanctity of the national anthem ritual or attempts to insert particular political views within
the context of the game. A representative example of this occurred during Jose Feliciano’s
non-traditional performance of the ‘‘Star Spangled Banner’’ during a World Series game in
Detroit in 1968. The backlash was severe enough that Feliciano did not perform the song in
public again until 2003. For more on this incident, see David W. Zang, ‘‘A Star-Spangled
Collision: Sports and Rock ‘n’ Roll in the ’60s,’’ in Sports Wars: Athletes in the Age of
Aquarius (Fayetteville: University of Arkansas Press, 2001), 326. More recently, college
basketball player Toni Smith was accused of politicizing the national anthem ritual when
she refused to face the flag during pre-game performances of the song. Again, the
assumption was that the song itself is not political; it is only when someone questions its
normalcy that politics are acknowledged. For more on Smith, see Dave Zirin, What’s My
Name, Fool? Sports and Resistance in the United States (Chicago: Haymarket Books, 2005),
27885.
Ernesto Laclau and Chantal Mouffe, Hegemony and Socialist Strategy: Towards a Radical
Democratic Politics, 2nd ed. (London: Verso, 2001), xiii.
Mouffe, Democratic Paradox, 8.
Sharon Crowley, Toward a Civil Discourse: Rhetoric and Fundamentalism (Pittsburgh:
University of Pittsburgh Press, 2006).
Richard T. Hughes, Christian America and the Kingdom of God (Urbana: University of
Illinois Press, 2009), 4.
Crowley, Toward a Civil Discourse, 15.
The phrase ‘‘purpose-driven’’ is specifically associated with Saddleback Church Pastor Rick
Warren, who has trademarked the term. For more on this, see Rick Warren, The Purpose
Driven Life: What On Earth Am I Here For? (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2002).
Meanwhile, there is substantial literature on Christianity and marketing in the United
States. Two recent books of note are Mara Einstein, Brands of Faith: Marketing Religion in a
Commercial Age (London: Routledge, 2008); and James B. Twitchell, Shopping for God: How
Christianity Went from In Your Heart to In Your Face (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2007).
Martin J. Medhurst, ‘‘Religious Belief and Scholarship: A Complex Relationship,’’ Journal of
Communication and Religion 27 (2004): 41.
Kristy Maddux, ‘‘Faithful Political Rhetoric,’’ Rhetoric & Public Affairs 11 (2008): 135.
Twitchell, Shopping for God, 6; Eileen Luhr, Witnessing Suburbia: Conservatives and
Christian Youth Culture (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2009), 23.
Twitchell, Shopping for God, 62.
Greg Stielstra and Bob Hutchins, Faith-Based Marketing: The Guide to Reaching 140 Million
Christian Consumers (Hoboken, NJ: Wiley, 2009), ix.
Stielstra and Hutchins, Faith-Based Marketing, 72.
William E. Connolly, Capitalism and Christianity, American Style (Durham, NC: Duke
University Press, 2008), 8.
I am not suggesting that there are no Americans who are genuinely committed to their
faith. Rather, I am drawing attention to a particular, and increasingly popular, orientation
to Christianity that too often is seen as representative of religion in the United States.
Greg Dickinson, ‘‘Selling Democracy: Consumer Culture and Citizenship in the Wake of
September 11,’’ Southern Communication Journal 70 (2005): 281.
330 M. L. Butterworth
[32]
[33]
[34]
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[36]
[37]
[38]
[39]
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Twitchell, Shopping for God, 246.
George M. Marsden, Understanding Fundamentalism and Evangelicalism (Grand Rapids,
MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Co., 1991), 2.
As Crowley, Toward a Civil Discourse, insists, ‘‘The phrase ‘liberal Christian’ is not an
oxymoron,’’ 7. Perhaps the best contemporary example is the organization Sojourners, led
by Jim Wallis. For more on this, see Jim Wallis, God’s Politics: Why the Right Gets It Wrong
and the Left Doesn’t Get It (New York: Harper San Francisco, 2005).
Twitchell, Shopping for God, 246.
Mark Noll, ‘‘Evangelicals Past and Present,’’ in Religion, Politics, and the American
Experience: Reflections on Religion and American Public Life, ed. Edith L. Blumhofer
(Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press, 2002), 108.
Marsden, Understanding Fundamentalism, 1.
Marsden, Understanding Fundamentalism, 14.
Thomas Frank, What’s the Matter with Kansas?: How Conservatives Won the Heart of
America (New York: Henry Holt and Company, 2005), 5.
Richard T. Hughes, Myths America Lives By (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2004),
16971.
Luhr, Witnessing Suburbia, 18.
Twitchell, Shopping for God, 48.
For an explanation and critique of this perspective, see Jason Byassee, ‘‘Be Happy:
The Health and Wealth Gospel,’’ The Christian Century, July 12, 2005, http://www.
christiancentury.org/article.lasso?id 1017.
Naomi Klein, No Logo: No Space, No Choice, No Jobs (New York: Picador, 2002); this
argument is supported, too, in Benjamin Barber, Consumed: How Markets Corrupt Children,
Infantilize Adults, and Swallow Citizens Whole (New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 2007).
Einstein, Brands of Faith, 179.
These represent only a small snapshot of the ‘‘Christian Right.’’ As Crowley summarizes, the
‘‘Christian Right’’ designates (a) a group of organizations that promote a conservative social
and political agenda and (b) people who subscribe to an ideology*a set of beliefs*that
drives this agenda. There are literally thousands of conservative Christian political groups in
the country. Those that most often make national news are the American Family
Association, the Christian Coalition, Concerned Women for America, the Family Research
Council, and Focus on the Family; these organizations were founded by or are chiefly
associated with Donald Wildmon, Pat Robertson and Ralph Reed, Beverly LaHaye, Gary
Bauer, and James Dobson respectively. In addition, there are think tanks, PACS, and
foundations that more or less openly support Christian Right activism 13435.
Einstein, Brands of Faith, 174.
It is worth noting that Warren’s Saddleback Church in California is affiliated with the
Southern Baptist Convention, despite the absence of any denomination in the church’s title.
See Luhr, Witnessing Suburbia, 2021.
Twitchell, Shopping for God, 67.
For more on this rhetorical strategy, see Brian Jackson, ‘‘Jonathan Edwards Goes to Hell
(House): Fear Appeals in American Evangelism,’’ Rhetoric Review 26 (2007): 4259.
Joe L. Kincheloe, ‘‘Selling a New and Improved Jesus: Christotainment and the Power of
Political Fundamentalism,’’ in Christotainment: Selling Jesus through Popular Culture, ed.
Shirley R. Steinberg and Joe L. Kincheloe (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 2009), 18, 11.
Joe L. Kincheloe, ‘‘Christian Soldier Jesus: The Intolerant Savior and the Political
Fundamentalist Media Empire,’’ in Christotainment: Selling Jesus through Popular Culture,
ed. Shirley R. Steinberg and Joe L. Kincheloe (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 2009), 43.
Joseph L. Price, ‘‘The Pitcher’s Mound as Cosmic Mountain: Religious Reflections on
Baseball,’’ in From Season to Season: Sports as American Religion, ed. Joseph L. Price
Saved at Home 331
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(Champaign, IL: Human Kinetics, 2001), 6176; Philip Lowry, Green Cathedrals: The
Ultimate Celebration of all 273 Major League and Negro League Ballparks Past and Present
(Reading, MA: Addison-Wesley Publishing, 1992).
For more on this idea, see Charles Fruehling Springwood, Cooperstown to Dyersville:
A Geography of Baseball Nostalgia (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1996).
Robert J. Higgs and Michael C. Braswell, An Unholy Alliance: The Sacred and Modern Sports
(Macon, GA: Mercer University Press, 2004), 27.
Steven J. Overman, The Influence of the Protestant Ethic on Sport and Recreation (Aldershot:
Avebury, 1997), 7.
Bellah, Civil Religion in America, 8.
Bellah, Civil Religion in America, 7.
Hughes, Christian America, 12.
Einstein, Brands of Faith, 16.
Isaac Kramnick and R. Laurence Moore, The Godless Constitution: The Case Against
Religious Correctness (New York: W.W. Norton & Co., 1996), 143.
Hughes, Myths America Lives By, 6.
Brad Locke, ‘‘If You Build It . . .’’ Baptist Press, July 27, 2007, http://www.bpsports.net/
bpsports.asp?ID 5632.
Marsden, Understanding Fundamentalism, 1113.
On the Southern Baptist Convention, see Kramnick and Moore; on Darby see Randall
Balmer, Mine Eyes Have Seen the Glory: A Journey Into the Evangelical Subculture in America,
4th ed. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006), 3234; on the Constitutional amendment,
see Kramnick and Moore, 145.
George M. Marsden, Fundamentalism and American Culture: The Shaping of Twentieth
Century Evangelicalism: 18701925 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1980), 12.
Benjamin G. Rader, Baseball: A History of America’s Game (Urbana: University of Illinois
Press, 2002), 15.
Christopher H. Evans, ‘‘Baseball as Civil Religion: The Genesis of an American Creation
Story,’’ in Christopher H. Evans and William R. Herzog, II, ed., The Faith of 50 Million:
Baseball, Religion, and American Culture (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press,
2002), 15.
David Q. Voigt, American Baseball: From Gentleman’s Sport to the Commissioner System
(Norman, OK: University of Oklahoma Press, 1966), 5.
Frederick G. Lieb, The Baseball Story (New York: G.P. Putnam’s Sons, 1950), 13.
See Cecilia Elizabeth O’Leary, To Die For: The Paradox of American Patriotism (Princeton,
NJ: Princeton University Press, 1999).
Evans, ‘‘Baseball as Civil Religion,’’ 3031.
Joseph Price notes, ‘‘By the beginning of the twenty-first century, more than 200 professional
teams participated in Baseball Chapel, whose services were attended by about 3,000 players,
managers, umpires, and team each Sunday.’’ In Joseph L. Price, Rounding the Bases: Baseball
and Religion in America (Macon, GA: Mercer University Press, 2006), 30.
‘‘God Bless America Returns to the Stretch,’’ Sports Illustrated.com, March 28, 2003, http://
sportsillustrated.cnn.com/baseball/news/2003/03/28/patriotic_tribute_ap/.
Joe Buck, American League Championship Series, Fox Broadcasting Company, October 16,
2003.
Gelfand, Baseball and Religion.
Quoted in Tom Krattenmaker, Onward Christian Athletes: Turning Ballparks into Pulpits and
Players into Preachers (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2009), 115.
For more on these and other promotions, see Josh Pahigian, ‘‘Baseball’s Top-10 Minor
League Publicity Stunts,’’ ESPN.com, July 11, 2007, http://sports.espn.go.com/travel/news/
story?id2931344.
332 M. L. Butterworth
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The Nashville Sounds 2009 schedule is available at http://www.nashvillesounds.com/
schedule/schedule.asp.
Quoted in Don Wade, ‘‘Entrepreneur Draws Fans to Games on Faith,’’ Memphis
Commercial Appeal, July 14, 2006, D1, http://web.lexis-nexis.com/universe.
Reid Cherner, ‘‘If You Billed it Around Faith, They Will Certainly Come,’’ USA Today, July
21, 2005, http://www.usatoday.com/sports/baseball/minors/2005-07-21-faith-night_x.htm.
Wade ‘‘Entrepreneur Draws Fans,’’
Krattenmaker, Onward Christian Athletes, 116.
Christian Lundberg, ‘‘Enjoying God’s Death: The Passion of the Christ and the Practices of
an Evangelical Public,’’ Quarterly Journal of Speech 95 (2009): 388.
I learned this through a personal phone conversation with this official, who asked to remain
anonymous, on August 11, 2009.
It is also worth noting that Prasco, Inc., is a Cincinnati-based pharmaceutical company
founded by Thomas Arington, whose family foundation uses sport to perform evangelical
outreach with youth groups.
Language from the Answers in Genesis of Kentucky, Inc., ‘‘Organization Report.’’ Obtained
July 31, 2009 from GuideStar, http://www.guidestar.com.
‘‘Americans Are Flocking to a Hi-Tech Creation Museum Where Man and Dinosaurs
Frolick Happily Together,’’ The Independent, August 19, 2007, http://www.independent.co.
uk/news/world/americas/americans-are-flocking-to-a-hitech-creation-museum-where-manand-dinosaurs-frolick-happily-together-461988.html.
Quoted in ‘‘Americans are Flocking.’’
Crowley, Toward a Civil Discourse, 163.
Lundberg, ‘‘Enjoying God’s Death,’’ 388.
Quoted in Krattenmaker, Onward Christian Athletes, 122. The manager did not authorize
the use of his name.
Krattenmaker, Onward Christian Athletes, 122.
Quoted in Marc Fisher, ‘‘Peanuts, Cracker Jack and Jesus Make an Unsavory Mix at
Ballparks,’’ Washington Post, June 28, 2007, http://web.lexis-nexis.com/universe; quoted in
Henri E. Cauvin, ‘‘Fans Hang In for Postgame Harmonies,’’ Washington Post, August 6,
2007, http://web.lexis-nexis.com/universe.
Krattenmaker, Onward Christian Athletes, 11011.
Crowley, 11.
The controversy generated by Focus on the Family’s involvement with Faith Night is
detailed in Krattenmaker, Onward Christian Athletes, 2324.
Krattenmaker, Onward Christian Athletes, 24.
Quoted in Hugh Poland, Steal Away: Devotions for Baseball Fans (Valley Forge, PA: Judson
Press, 2006), 5859.
Quoted in Darren Everson, ‘‘Smoltz Defends Stance on Gays,’’ New York Daily News, July 24,
2004, http://web.lexis-nexis.com/universe.
Quoted in Krattenmaker, Onward Christian Athletes, 117.
Price, Rounding the Bases, 29, 35.
Quoted in Tim Townsend, ‘‘Two Religions Converge at Busch: Baseball, Christianity,’’
St. Louis Post-Dispatch, June 24, 2007, http://folio.reporterist.com/timtownsend/article/
722776f819be78dc#Two-religions-converge-at-Busch-Baseball-Christianity-.
Tom Krattenmaker, ‘‘Should God Go to the Ballgame?’’ Los Angeles Times, August 18, 2007,
http://www.latimes.com/news/opinion/la-oe-krattenmaker18aug18,0,3946244.story?coll
la-opinion-center.
These sources included gross*tax receipts on large businesses in the District, as well as
taxes on tickets and merchandise purchased at the stadium. David Nakamura, ‘‘Stadium
Saved at Home 333
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[108]
[109]
[110]
[111]
[112]
[113]
[114]
Support Seems Solid,’’ Washington Post, October 20, 2004, B8, http://web.lexis-nexis.com/
universe.
Krattenmaker, Onward Christian Athletes, 185.
For more on this, see Butterworth, ‘‘Ritual’’; and Daniel A. Grano, ‘‘Ritual Disorder and the
Contractual Morality of Sport: A Case Study in Race, Class, and Agreement,’’ Rhetoric &
Public Affairs 10 (2007): 44574.
DePalma, Michael-John, Jeffrey M. Ringer, and Jim Webber, ‘‘(Re)Charting the
(Dis)Courses of Faith and Politics, or Rhetoric and Democracy in the Burkean Barnyard,’’
Rhetoric Society Quarterly 38 (2008): 320, 329.
Krattenmaker, Onward Christian Athletes, 121.
William E. Connolly, Pluralism (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2005), 43, emphasis
mine.
I want to thank an especially thoughtful anonymous reviewer for pointing out this
important implication.
Wallis, God’s Politics, 3.
Rachel Zoll and Eric Gorski, ‘‘Evangelicals Say Faith is Now Too Political,’’ USA Today, May
3, 2008, http://www.usatoday.com/news/topstories/200805022040640322_x.htm.
Connolly, Capitalism and Christianity, 35.
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