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10/15/06
Eric Epperson
Memphis, TN

Good morning. I’ve watched our clergy deliver many addresses from up here, and if there’s one thing I learned it’s that you should begin with a story. So here goes…

Like most couples, my wife and I don’t always see eye to eye on every issue. As an example, we have somewhat different philosophies on how we handle discipline for our children. And I’ll confess that it’s been the source of some tension.

Susan’s approach is sort of the Barney Fife “Nip it in the bud” school of thought. On the other hand, I tend to favor the idea that some of the most life-enduring lessons are learned by making mistakes. And as a result I’ll admit that I may let things go too far at times.

You’re much more likely to hear Susan say something like, “stop doing that before you burn down the house.” I on the other hand, fascinated by the thought process of the young mind, am more likely to say, “Let’s just see where he’s going with this.”

This dichotomy was demonstrated rather perfectly while we were on vacation recently. Tired from a long drive, we pulled into a Steak and Shake for lunch. Sitting at the booth waiting for our food to arrive, our two children inevitably started picking on each other. First Claire crawled under the table to jab Jake in the leg with her fork. Then Jake began tearing off pieces from his napkin to make spit balls to shoot at his sister. After a couple of the standard, “Cut it out guys. Knock it off you two, and even the classic “We’re closer to home than we are to the hotel – don’t think we won’t turn around and call this vacation off,” Susan gave me that look that let me know that she needed me to step in.
So - acknowledging Jake’s role as big brother and key influencer, I gently grabbed him by the arm, leaned in and said, “Look, we really want to enjoy this trip as a family. If you and Claire can just be good for 30 minutes we’ll be back on the road and you can be back in the car watching DVD’s.”

Jake thought for a moment, smiled and said, “How about this? If you’ll give us each five dollars then we’ll be good.” Somewhat intrigued by his entrepreneurial spirit, I did the logical thing and started negotiating. “How about a dollar each? Can you be good for a dollar guys?”

Susan clearly didn’t approve of my response and was getting visibly annoyed.

Jake on the other hand didn’t miss a beat.

“Make it three dollars a piece!”

As I pondered this counter-offer, Susan had heard enough. Slamming her hand on the table to interrupt the negotiations, she looked Jake in the eye and said, “Son, why can’t you be like your father, and just be good for nothing?”

Clearly the significance and influence of money isn’t lost on even the youngest members of our parish. And as we thoughtfully make our way through the Stewardship season at Grace-St. Luke’s, that significance takes on different meaning for different people.

Now I was told there’s an unspoken tradition that suggests you really shouldn’t talk about money in the Episcopal Church. To that point, the term Stewardship simply refers to “all that we choose to do with God’s gifts.” Yet many still see it as a code word for “annual pledge drive.”

While I haven’t taken a position on the whole “mixing money and ministry” issue, I’ve decided today to honor the traditional viewpoint, and address Stewardship this year through the powerful but subtle technique of metaphors. So pay close attention, and I think you’ll have little trouble picking up on how my stories today relate to Stewardship (aka the 2007 GSL pledge drive).

As I considered exactly which metaphor would best support my message, I immediately fell into my comfort zone – sports. I fully recognize that in doing so, I run the risk of alienating some important members of my audience, but I’m banking on the fact that at its core, sports appeals to all of us. You don’t have to be a weekend quarterback or even have a favorite team to appreciate the human interest context of sports. One of my favorite quotes comes from the late Supreme Court Justice Earl Warren, who said, “I always turn to the sports section first. The sports page records people’s accomplishments; the front page has nothing but man’s failures.” So with that in mind, let me begin.

When I was seven years old, my father began taking me to watch the New Orleans Saints. And for the next ten years the two of us rarely missed a home game. I’ll never forget my very first game – walking among the sea of black and gold clad fans up the Superdome ramp. Waiting with eager anticipation as we stood in line to get our tickets torn. Navigating the throng through the main concourse. Then at once walking through that wonderful portal opening that revealed the indescribable sites and sounds of the pre-game. The unnaturally brilliant green Astroturf. The glowing fluorescent yellow goalposts. The buzz of the fans taking their seats, blended with the sounds of the jazz band warming up in the end zone and the P.A. announcer welcoming us all to the Louisiana Superdome. And the players, with their vibrantly colored uniforms and shiny helmets that no color television set could ever do justice. I was actually there, in person, and it was utterly thrilling.

Now any NFL fan knows that the Saints have a long history of futility. In fact, during my childhood they took on the nickname of the “Aint’s” – a result of their woeful losing record. But that didn’t deter the fans – we showed up in droves (although many wore decorated grocery bags over their heads to hide the public shame of supporting such a hapless team). To a seven-year-old, none of that mattered. I was able to witness first-hand the same team that had stirred so many emotions in my father from his living room chair. I was actually watching players, whose names I was already familiar with, warm up right in front of me – Tony Galbreath, Chuck Muncie, and the greatest of them all…. #8, quarterback Archie Manning.

As I settled into the scene, I began paying closer attention to the fans. The richly diverse culture that defines New Orleans was in full splendor. And the characters in the crowd. There was Crazy George – a middle aged pot-bellied man who wore a Saint’s half-shirt that exposed everything from his navel down. George was bald in the middle of his head but had long stringy locks that flowed from the sides and back, and he carried a small bass drum, which he pounded to stir up the fans. He became so well known that one of the local car dealers hired him to be the spokesman on their T.V. ads. There was also a guy who called himself black Moses. He was decked out in a full black & gold robe, with a long white beard and hair that likely came from a Santa costume. Black Moses carried a long shepherd’s staff, and pledged to lead his Saints to the Promised Land (aka the Superbowl). It was all the excitement a young boy could stand.

There is one game in particular that stands out to me. We were playing the Houston Oilers, with their awful powder-blue pants. It was the middle of the fourth quarter and Houston had the ball - third down and long near midfield. The Saints had trailed throughout the game, but we had shown a little life in the second half and cut the deficit to five. The fans had been fairly subdued. But as the teams broke the huddle to get back to the line of scrimmage for the next play, a dull buzz began to build across the stadium that grew into a thundering roar. The crowd was going absolutely crazy – as if we’d just scored the game-winning touchdown. I looked around to find out what was the cause of this sudden celebration. Had that streaker from the Packer’s game returned to the field? No. Was Archie Manning coming in to play defense? No. I had no idea what was causing the frenzy. I turned to ask my father, who was on his feet shouting through his cupped hands. I couldn’t even get his attention – he, along with everybody around us, was completely focused on the action on the field. All I knew to do at that point was to stand up, turn to the field and scream my head off.

You see, it was one of those magical moments when the fans spontaneously recognized that their team needed a lift. It happens practically every week in practically every sport. For the Saints defense, a stop on this crucial third down meant Houston would have to punt and we’d get the ball back. The fans sensed the momentum changing as the home team had gradually fought their way back, and all 78,000 got up to help get their team through this key play. And in that moment, every fan was equal in rank and in task. Me, my father, Crazy George – all of us fast friends, united for a common cause.

This action was “home field advantage” defined, and the concept is a very powerful one. It’s much more than just creating an intimidating atmosphere for visiting opponents. It’s much more than a bunch of people making a bunch of noise, or 80,000 people executing “the wave” in unison.

Home field advantage is an almost mystical transformation, where a group of fans who otherwise may have nothing else in common join ranks and become more than mere spectators. The sidelines that divide players and fans begin to blur, and paying ticket holders become absolutely convinced that they have a direct influence on the outcome of the game.

And the feeling from the team is usually mutual. You may have seen a player standing in the middle of the field, waving his arms up in the air, appealing to the crowd to get loud during an important play. Or read post-game quotes from players crediting the energy and enthusiasm of their fans as the key difference maker in the victory. Home field advantage is a very real phenomenon.

The essence of home field advantage is captured in a banner slogan that has become popular around lots of sports venues. It has four simple but important words, “Not in our house.” That message is basically telling the visiting team, “You may be something special where you come from. You might have the best offense in the league or the best record or the biggest star. You may think you can pound us into ground, but not in our house.”

And it’s not just the players and the fans who recognize the power of home field advantage.

At Texas A&M, they actually trademarked the term “12th man” to honor the crucial role their fans play during home football games. In essence, while the rules allow only 11 players from each team to be on the field at one time, the influence of their fans was so powerful that they created the effect of having a 12th man on the field.

And in every major sport, home field advantage during the playoffs is the reward for those teams who earn the best record during the regular season. This rule basically acknowledges that the teams with home field advantage in the playoffs have a distinct advantage over their visiting opponent.

In 2003, Major League Baseball was faced with shrinking television ratings for the annual MLB allstar game between the American League and the National League. So to make the game more important (and therefore more interesting for the viewers) they passed a new rule. The league that wins the allstar game will also win the opportunity to host the World Series.

So, for example, the American League won the allstar game this year. So the Detroit Tigers, who won the American League championship this weekend, will have home field advantage in the World Series over the National League champions – regardless of which team has the better overall record.

The “all-star game” decision is still debated across sports talk radio stations to this day. Meanwhile, the MLB allstar game is now one of the most popular “exhibition” games in professional sports. And by the way, the home team has won two out of the past three World Series.

The fans really do have a direct impact on the outcome of the game. The Las Vegas odds makers will give the home football team between 2-3 points simply because they’re at home. In other words if two teams are evenly matched, the home team will usually be favored by around 2.5 points.

But enough about home field advantage – this is supposed to be about Stewardship. So how does all of this relate?

Well, for starters, I consider Grace-St. Luke’s to be my home. Every Sunday I come here, sit in the stands with a group of people – many of whom I have nothing else in common with. But what makes this place special is that we are more than just spectators.

All of us, in our own way, contribute to the outcome of the mission of Grace-St. Luke’s church. And in those special times of need, we don’t have to be told when it’s time to stand up and help get behind the team. We may have issues in our personal lives that are pulling us down. There may be problems that overwhelm and consume us. But not here. Not in our house.

Personally, I can say that I’ve walked into this place with the weight of the world on my shoulders, and walked out with a renewed perspective of what’s really important in life. And in the spirit of this year’s Stewardship theme “Freely we receive so freely we ought to give,” that’s just one example of the many gifts I’ve received from Grace-St. Luke’s without asking.

But there’s one universal truth when it comes to home field advantage. The more people getting up out of their seats and actively participating, the more impactful that home field advantage is to the ultimate outcome of the game. It’s not just the sheer numbers, it’s the intensity and the participation levels. There are plenty of 65,000-seat stadiums that just don’t provide their team with much of a boost.

Last year, total dollars contributed to Grace-St. Luke’s were up but the total number of giving units was down. That tells me we’ve got some people shouting louder and cheering harder than ever before, and I thank you personally. But we’ve also got others who perhaps may be counting on the guys in the luxury boxes to carry the day. Unfortunately, as we all know, there’s just so much noise any one person can make and eventually everyone’s voice is going to get hoarse.

This is a team that needs dedicated season-ticket holders – and it doesn’t matter if you spring for a 50 yard line seat or can only get to the nose-bleed section this year. Everybody is equal in task and rank when it comes to creating the home field atmosphere at Grace-St. Luke’s. So if you happened to forget that today was Ingathering Sunday, don’t fret. Season ticket order forms are in the stands near you today. Please place your pledge card in the offering basket as they come around today.

I can tell you that in the span of time my father was a season ticket holder for New Orleans, he saw two head coaches and four different quarterbacks come and go. But none of that mattered. Every year he renewed his season tickets. He was a Saints fan first and foremost. When Archie Manning returned to the Superdome wearing a Minnesota Vikings uniform after being traded, we all stood up and cheered for him when they called his name during the opening lineup. But when the game began we cheered like hell against him.

Speaking of the Superdome… I was absolutely beside myself on Monday Sept. 25 of this year, when the New Orleans Saints returned to the Superdome to play their first true home game after missing an entire season because of the damage from Hurricane Katrina. That sacred place that a year earlier had been associated with such horrible suffering and misery was once again a place for cheering and celebration.

The team that had gone through an entire season playing at “borrowed” stadiums was finally back home. And the fans, still weary and worried and wondering when their lives will finally get back in order. They turned out in droves to have one night of celebration and hope. The Superdome was completely sold out.

The atmosphere was so electric I could feel it through my television set. As the camera scanned the crowd before kickoff, everybody was on their feet screaming their hearts out. I saw a banner that read, “Dome sweet Dome.” I saw Archie Manning dressed in a business suit on the sidelines talking to the Monday Night Football reporters. And as the cameras continued to scan that wonderful crowd I saw him. Black Moses. Still wearing his beard and waving his shepherds staff, and still hopeful that one day he’ll be able to lead his Saints to the Promised Land.

We were playing the heavily-favored Atlanta Falcons, but on that night there’s not a team in the history of NFL football that could have beaten the Saints. The crowd probably had more to do with it than the players, but from the opening kickoff to the final gun the underdog Saints completely dominated Atlanta. It was a thing of beauty.

So maybe it’s a stretch to use a sports analogy to draw upon a Stewardship message. But there really are a lot of parallels.

I’ve seen plenty of sports fans crossing themselves and clasping their hands to pray that the other team miss that crucial free throw or that their team gets that third strike in the bottom of the ninth inning. Heck, just this weekend the Memphis Tigers football team fell victim to a play universally known as the Hail Mary.

And here at Grace-St. Lukes? Well, we’ve got our own band. We’ve got a great stadium with an upper deck. And we’ve got a committed and enthusiastic crowd – with some rather colorful characters - who are absolutely convinced that they have a direct influence on the outcome of the game.

And we do. Your pledge to Grace-St. Lukes is crucial for building on the home field advantage that we all enjoy. And I urge you to give all you can – or at least more than you gave last year.

After all - we’re all Saints. We’re all collectively trying to get to the Promised Land. And speaking for myself, I want to be in that number, when the Saints go marching in.

Go Saints!