Does God Care About Football? (Part II)

June 10, 2015 Picture: Republic of Korea/Flickr

This article is part of The Critique Exclusive The Philosophy of Sport In Practice Part I: The FIFA World Cup.

Can we make sense of the prayer habits of religious footballers and fans? Perhaps the most fundamental query to raise, in the face of the questions that have been posed, is: Does God exist? If God does not exist—if there is no God—then God does not care about football, nor about anything else. Or so I say. There are philosophers who suppose that non-existent entities have properties; perhaps some of those philosophers might say that it is true that, even though God does not exist, God cares about football. Nevertheless, even those philosophers will agree that, if God does not exist, then God does not respond to the prayers of religious players and fans. More strongly, all philosophers should agree that it makes no sense to suppose that, even though God does not exist, God responds to prayers from religious footballers and fans: if there are non-existent objects, they cannot have causal interactions with existing objects.

Even if God does not exist, it may still be that we can make sense of the prayer habits of religious footballers and fans. After all, those religious footballers and fans who petition God to influence the outcomes of football games believe that God does exist. When we ask whether there is sense to be made of the prayer habits of religious footballers and fans, we are asking questions about the consistency and coherence of the worldviews of those footballers and fans.

“If God does not exist then God does not care about football, nor about anything else”

There are two kinds of questions that might be at issue.

(1) On the one hand, we may be asking whether the worldviews in question are consistent and coherent: if the worldviews in question are not consistent and coherent, then perhaps that provides a reason to say that, in the end, the prayer habits of religious footballers and fans do not make sense.

(2) On the other hand, we may be asking whether the worldviews in question are inconsistent or incoherent in ways that threaten the attribution of sense—or reason, or rationality—to those who adopt those worldviews. If, for example, the worldviews are inconsistent or incoherent, but only in ways that geniuses can discern, then the inconsistency or incoherence arguably poses no threat at all to the claim that the prayer habits of those who adopt the worldviews make some kind of sense.

There are many different conceptions of God, and many different worldviews in which those conceptions of God are embedded. Pantheists suppose, at least roughly speaking, that the physical universe is divine. Panentheists suppose, at least roughly speaking, that divinity is found in every part of the physical universe. Some theists suppose that God is an impersonal principle. Some theists suppose that God is a personal creator of pretty much everything else. Some theists suppose that there is almost nothing that we know about God. Some theists suppose that, by and large, we only know what God is not. Some theists suppose that we know a great deal about God, but only because this knowledge is recorded in the holy books of a particular religion: Judaism, or Christianity, or Islam, or Hinduism, or Jainism, or whatever. Some theists suppose that we know a great deal about God, but only because God discloses information to some of us in religious experience, and miracles, and the like. Some theists suppose that we know a great deal about God because any of us can use reason—or reason and observation of our universe—to infer what God is like.

Given the diversity of conceptions of God—and given the diversity of worldviews in which these conceptions of God are embedded—it is doubtless unsurprising that some theists insist that it would be idolatrous, or sacrilegious, or unserious, or the product of improper anthropomorphism, to suppose that God cares about football. On many conceptions of God, God is not so much as capable of caring about football.

However, given the diversity of conceptions of God—and given the diversity of worldviews in which those conceptions of God are embedded—it is doubtless no more surprising that there is no easy, widely accepted answer to the question whether there are consistent and coherent worldviews according to which God cares about football.

One very important question that non-believers are apt to direct towards believers is whether we have good reason to think that God cares about us. Given the appalling things that are happening in our world right now—in South Sudan, and Palestine, and Syria, and Iraq, and Ukraine, and so on—is it really credible that God—whatever God may be like—truly cares about us? And, if God doesn’t care about us, wouldn’t it be utterly bizarre for God to care about our football matches?

Another important question to ask, in connection with concern about football, is whether there is something improper about the concern that many of us have for football. Not all people are football fans; some people are positively anti-football. Perhaps some of those people who are anti-football think that it is simply improper to be a football fan. And if it is improper to be a football fan, then, I think, on most conceptions of God, it would follow that, in a very important sense, God does not care for football, and that God is never moved by petitionary prayer in connection with the outcomes of football games.

“One very important question that non-believers are apt to direct towards believers is whether we have good reason to think that God cares about us. Given the appalling things that are happening in our world right now—in South Sudan, and Palestine, and Syria, and Iraq, and Ukraine, and so on—is it really credible that God—whatever God may be like—truly cares about us? And, if God doesn’t care about us, wouldn’t it be utterly bizarre for God to care about our football matches?”

I intend the forgoing remarks to establish that it is very hard to make any confident general pronouncements about whether we can make sense of the prayer habits of religious footballers and fans. I’m not in any doubt about my own views: I’m an atheist who barracks for Richmond (1967), Natte Bealiba Swans (1970), Arsenal (1971), Club Brugge (1981), Denver Broncos (1987), Canberra Raiders (1990), ACT Brumbies (1996), East Burwood Rams (2003), Glen Waverley FC (2008), Oakleigh Chargers (2010), and Monash Blues (2013). (The dates in parentheses are the years in which I started supporting these teams. As all football fans know, once you start supporting a team, you do not give up on them.) But I think that we all need to be very wary about taking our own commitments as the standards that we use for determining whether other views make sense.

In his contribution to this discussion, Brian Leftow argues that ‘the Christian God’ will respond to prayers from footballers and fans if responding to those prayers is the best thing for God to do in the light of God’s goal of bringing it about that all people obtain salvation. In particular, he says: ‘Salvation is his primary concern, and he does in answer to prayer whatever best forwards the chances of salvation for the largest number—if he does anything at all.’

I anticipate that different aspects of Leftow’s claim will be controversial to different populations.

Some Christians may think that it is wrong to suppose that God works out what to do by making consequentialist calculations. If God acts—or fails to act—according to ‘whatever best forwards the chances of salvation of the largest number’, then, on occasion, God may trade-off near-certain denial of salvation of a few for a small increase in the chances of salvation of many. Suppose Manchester United is up against Preston North End in a cup tie, and that God can raise the chances of salvation for fifty million Man U fans, by responding to the prayers of Man U fans, but at the cost of almost certainly guaranteeing that fifty Preston North End fans are denied salvation. Ought God to answer the prayers of the Man U fans merely because that is what maximising expected salvation dictates?

“Some Christians may think that it is wrong to suppose that God works out what to do by making consequentialist calculations. If God acts—or fails to act—according to ‘whatever best forwards the chances of salvation of the largest number’, then, on occasion, God may trade-off near-certain denial of salvation of a few for a small increase in the chances of salvation of many”

Some Christians—‘Universalists’—think that, come what may, God guarantees salvation for all. Those Christians cannot coherently suppose that God acts—or fails to act—according to ‘whatever best forwards chances of salvation’, since they think that—quite apart from the actions that God performs or fails to perform, in connection with particular worldly events—it is certain that each will be saved. Of course, even if it is true that, by Universalist lights, God cannot act—or fail to act—according to ‘whatever best forwards chances of salvation’, it does not follow that, by Universalist lights, God cannot have some other reasons for responding to petitionary prayers. Some Universalists may suppose that God does respond to the religious prayers of footballers and fans, but for reasons other than the one that Leftow identifies.

Some theists may think that it is impossible that God responds to petitionary prayer. In particular, there are theists who suppose that God is unchanging, and incapable of being (causally) affected by anything else. But, if God is unchanging and incapable of being (causally) affected by anything else, then it seems that it is impossible for God to respond to petitionary prayers. At the very least, there is some temptation to suppose that it can only be that one thing responds to a second thing if the second thing has some influence on the first thing. It seems wrong to suppose that God hears our prayers if it is also true that it is impossible for our prayers to have any effect on God.

Some non-theists may think that it is impossible that the ultimate purpose of our universe is the salvation of the largest number of human beings (and, if there is life elsewhere in the universe, alien beings relevantly similar to human beings). Some non-theists suppose that salvation is impossible: there isn’t anything that we need to be saved from, and, even if there were, there is no way that we could be saved from it. Some non-theists suppose that the particular brand of salvation in which Christians believe is impossible: there could not be anything such as original sin, and even if it were possible that there be original sin, the crucifixion of Christ could not possibly save us from it. Some non-theists suppose that it is impossible that our universe has an ultimate purpose: the universe is not the kind of thing for which there could be an ultimate purpose.

No doubt there are many other standpoints that would need to be considered in a full assessment of the claims that Leftow makes. However, perhaps I have managed to give some indication of the range of ways in which Leftow’s claims are—or might reasonably be taken to be—controversial.