The Eagles are Philadelphia’s religion

On Sunday, our Philadelphia Eagles will ascend to the heights of sports nirvana: the Super Bowl. From the bus stop to the bodega, everyone in Philly has their sights on the only holy relic that matters to Eagles fans: the Lombardi trophy.

Sports is the only thing that brings religious and nonreligious people together in Philadelphia. Jalen Hurts, in the style of a young messiah, is leading a band of intrepid men toward victory. At Mass on Sunday, Jan. 29, when the Eagles faced the 49ers in the NFC championship, Philly pews were full of worshippers in Eagles gear. “Fly, Eagles Fly“ was even sung at a parish in South Jersey.

To some, the championship is merely a sports event. But to a city full of obsessive sports fans, Super Bowl Sunday is sacred.

To go back to the Super Bowl just a few short years after our 2018 victory is a miracle. This is better than any apparition. It is proof that not only our fervent faith in football but also our mantra (“Go Birds”) and our hymn (“Fly, Eagles Fly”) will bring Philly to another victory.

When William Penn came to Pennsylvania from England to start his “holy experiment” in the 1680s, he probably didn’t expect that the most holy experiment in the city he founded would turn out to be sports. Philadelphia is a town of people who have had a lot of hard knocks. What is there to believe in except an improbable sports team?

No other city matches the fervor, devotion, self-examination, and self-flagellation of our sports fans. Sure, there are other great sports towns. But on Sunday, all eyes will be on us.

I say this as a transplanted Texan who all too well knows the allure and excitement of football’s Friday night lights. Yet my move to Philly in 2010 was a religious experience of sports devotion beyond my expectations, in part because as a Texan and a former Houston Oilers fan, I have an intense dislike for the Dallas Cowboys. But to anyone who thinks that the Cowboys are America’s team, they should think again. The correct answer is the Eagles.

Since the Eagles’ NFC championship win on Jan. 29, I haven’t gone a single day without hearing “Go Birds.” The Super Bowl appearance is peak religious experience for Philadelphia: the effervescence of feeling great joy.

You might think that making football a religion is sacrilegious. There are lots of definitions of religion, but simply put, it is whatever people do to show they worship divine figures like gods, nature, or even the self. The practices, images, smells, prayers — all of it make for religious experience. Philly sports fans have the images we worship, fan paraphernalia, prayers, and even a hymn.

I assure you, every time you don a jersey in Philly, you are participating in a ritual that marks you as a true Philly sports fan. It’s the one thing that binds us together as a city. It is compelling enough to make others still continue to talk about the jail at the Vet, and the 1968 Eagles fans who booed Santa Claus.

It’s his fault he got booed. He should have put on an Eagles jersey.

No matter your faith, or your relationship with the divine, if you are a sports fan of a Philadelphia team, you know that the Eagles going to the Super Bowl for the second time in five years pretty much tops parting the Red Sea or turning water into wine. An even bigger miracle is if you got Super Bowl tickets for less than $5,000 apiece.

Nothing beats the faithfulness of Philly sports fans. We sport our jerseys and colors for every game, like devotees waiting for the bacchanalia of a championship run. We buy overpriced tickets and hope we can pay next month’s bills. We carefully follow our superstitions (and yes, our bookies do, too).

No ritual is too small or unimportant. You better put on your lucky jersey, or it’s your fault if we don’t win.

Our tailgates are legendary. Who else would grill lobsters for a tailgate, or have a hot tub at the stadium? Consider it a baptismal pool of devotion, filled with libations to the sports gods.

In this city, our sacred sites are the Linc, Citizens Bank Park, and the Wells Fargo Center. The Roman Coliseum never had fans like ours. And trust me, Santa knows better than to come to Philly in a Cowboys jersey.

We are the true believers. And Sunday is a religious feast of epic proportions. The Philadelphia Eagles are in the Super Bowl. It is the holiest of sports holidays: One day of glory or defeat. It is everything we hope and pray for, and if we are lucky, poles will be climbed, Broad Street will be packed, Frankford and Cottman will be rocking, and no one will eat horse poop.

I can’t think of a better group of folks I’d rather be with. Go Birds.

Anthea Butler is Geraldine R. Segal Professor in American Social Thought and chair of the department of religious studies at the University of Pennsylvania.