by Rev. Lisa Schilansky, Director of Social Justice
A lot of people who meet me assume that I’m a deeply serious person. It’s the professional hazard of being a minister who focuses on justice work. There is much to organize for and against right now, there is much to be aware of in the world, and yet plonk me in the stands of Citizens Bank Park and all of that seriousness is out the window. Born and raised a baseball fan, I was flooded with endorphins and childlike wonder two weeks ago at the Pennsylvania Convention Center for the All Star Village, a complete immersion in all things baseball, a complete immersion in the world I have loved my whole life.
As someone who has never had a TV hookup in my adult life, I have spent a lot of time out in public during big games. There is nothing quite like the connections made with strangers across a basket of fries and a cold drink while your team somehow, someway, is pulling it off. Or, in the case of Philly, somehow, someway, is letting us down at the 11th hour yet again. Walking into my neighborhood spot to watch a game, the fact that I had a Phillies hat on mattered way more than any of the other things that set us apart. The fact that I could talk about the game and was clearly passionate, mattered way more than any of the other things that made me different from the folks around me.
This summer I saw this time and time again. What should not have worked in this current climate, people from all over the world coming into the United States (alongside Canada and Mexico), went incredibly well. Philly—my city that is famous for booing Santa and beating up the traveling friendly robot—was cited as one of the most welcoming sites for the World Cup. The college town of Lawrence, Kansas, warmly embraced the Algerian national team as they made it their home throughout their time in the tournament. The Tartan Army transformed the city of Boston, turning Fenway into a boisterous singing stadium, affixing all of their statues with orange cones, and forever establishing a deep relationship between the city and the Scottish people. Worldwide we all became enraptured by the Cabo Verdeans, by their passion, by their resilience, by their promise of hope. The United States is not a footballing nation, and yet this summer our nation’s focus rested on the World Cup—on fandom, on passion, and it brought us together.
Now, the World Cup was not without controversy, was not without shadow, was not without the influence of our shifting political climate. So, we take the new connections we have made over a basket of fries and a cold drink, over watch parties and excitement for our teams, and we move forward. Because joy is our greatest act of resistance and fandom is one of our greatest tools for joy. And if you’re finding yourself needing a break from being too serious? Just ask yourself: “What would the Phanatic do?”