Faith in Blue and White

In the Episcopal Church, we're pretty big into creeds. We say the Nicene Creed following the sermon on Sundays. We state the Apostle's Creed as babies are baptized and young adults are confirmed into the Church. These all, of course, serve the purpose of being a spoken affirmation of our faith, a way for us to keep saying "Hey, we're pretty solid on God and that Jesus was his son. And that ain't changing anytime soon." As you say these more and more, they grow more a part of you, and you barely even have to read the bulletin to say them again every Sunday. You know them by heart.

Now, since I've been Episcopal since the cradle, and since my mother's side of the family also has Anglican roots, it's pretty clear that these creeds would be often spoken by me in church (and, when shit's really going down, in public). But before I was smart or old enough to understand the words of this creed, my parents raised me to know one other creed by heart. A creed of to affirm my love and reverence for my place of birth, and the heart and soul of that land. A creed to hail the brightest star of all, clear its radiance shine. It reads as follows:

I'm a Tar Heel born

I'm a Tar Heel bred,

And when I die, I'm a Tar Heel dead

So it's rah rah, Car'lina-lina

Rah rah, Car'lina-lina

Rah rah, Car'lina-lina

GO TO HELL DUKE

I write about this primarily because I'm going to need to reaffirm this creed multiple times this evening in tonight's basketball game(s) against Duke (both Men's and Women's. Go figure). Those who know me personally should know also of my passion for UNC athletics. Although I never watched sports themselves for most of my youth, the damage was already done by the time I watched my first game. When kids in school talked about how cool Michael Jordan was, I trumped them all by pointing out that he played for my team. When I wasn't even four years old, I once pointed to a Duke logo and exclaimed "They suck!" with pride. To a preacher.

Now, I would be remiss if I didn't point out the fact that I still put all of my pride in NC even though I have lived in South Carolina for almost nine years. A land where "Carolina" is associated with red and black, which I can only condone in the similar manner that the rest of the world must put up with the United States' failure to convert to the metric system. A land where I was expected to be silent because the Heels' football program was put down by both the Gamecocks and Tigers in recent years. (Side note: I won't be ignorant of the recent history on the gridiron, but I also think that fans of Palmetto State schools should take a look at the recent matchups on the hardwood, men's and women's. Or the diamond. Or, the soccer pitch, too, for that matter. We'll call it even). Not to mention the fact that I will inevitably end up studying in-state because of the lack of Engineering at Chapel Hill (and the undeniable reality that I would get more money to study in-state).

By this point in the post, I could just stop and let this be an empty sports column, since guys at ESPN get paid for writing way more opinionated, less entertaining content. But, I don't want people to think that I'm just another guy who spends his time profaning the television every time JP Tokoto misses a free throw (although I might actually be that guy tonight if the boys ain't playing like they should be). I can't be ignorant of the Lenten themes I've been pursuing these past few days, now, can I?

I think back to the days where I felt separated from the rest of my peers. I was isolated and I didn't really have much I felt I could take pride in as a person. It was a matter of fill in the blank: "I am the only person in Dutch Fork Middle School who ____________, and that sucks." In a way, cheering for the Heels was something that both made me feel like I had something unique that no one else did, and gave me something to follow. To believe in.

Of course, there is a word for when you put faith in something else before God: idolatry. But I am in no way implying that I thought Roy Williams' squad was greater than God, although religion was still a struggle for me at the time. But I do think that this sort of belief I had (which many others, I'm sure, have felt in their favorite sports teams) is sort of an allegory for faith in general.

Let's take this program back to Jesus, for a second, kay? Think about how hard it is to show and maintain strong belief in Christ. Sometimes you wonder "why the hell do I even believe all this?" and just try and give up. Sometimes you try and call a time-out from all the action, but you don't have any left, and after that, it appears you lose. Isn't that like putting strong belief in a team until the end, only to see them get eliminated in the tournament? 'Cause I've seen that happen before, and I wasn't all that happy.

So, really, I just want to point out the nature of faith itself. It doesn't even have to apply to a deity, really. Committing and riding it all out, all the usual stuff you hear in Sunday School, but it doesn't even have to apply to Jesus alone. I'm not encouraging idolatry, I'm just observing a parallel here.

Have trust. Have faith. If shit ain't going right, just find something to think about that will make it more right. Concentrate on God. Or concentrate on inner peace. Or on science. Friends, family. A story to believe in (hey, isn't that what the Bible is?). There's something out there for everyone to believe in, and frankly, if you find faith in one thing expires, there's another thing out there.

I'm a little burned out from writing this one, which I started early and took all day to complete. So, find what you believe in. Affirm your faith by declaring it. Tell someone who matters in your life how much faith you have in them. Pray to God. Give your support to a cause that has personal meaning to you. I could really go on.

That's all. But before I go....

Go Heels. Go America. Go to Hell Duke.

Mornin' Hays, signing off.