Sideline sermons are evolving during this tense age in American life

Moments after the Philadelphia Eagles won Super Bowl LIX, quarterback Jalen Hurts offered a familiar word of testimony: "God is good. He is greater than all of the highs and lows."

If those words sounded familiar, it's because Hurts – the MVP – shared them earlier on press day, along with several other moments in the spotlight: "My faith has always been a part of me. I've always wanted to root myself in that and keep (God) in the center of my life. … So, through the highs and the lows, He's greater than all of them, and that's something that I can always acknowledge."

Eagles head coach Nick Sirianni opened his post-victory remarks with: "God's blessed us very much. He gave us all the talents to be able to get here, so first and foremost, thanks to Him. … Thank God. Thank you, Jesus."

The coach and his quarterback were not alone, because Godtalk has become more common after championships than pledges to visit a theme park. But the language used during these testimonies has become more nuanced.

"What they said, and didn't say, was quite interesting," said Robert Benne of Roanoke College, who founded its Benne Center for Church and Society. Now 87, he has been writing about faith and sports for decades.

"Not one of them talked about God being on their side," he said, reached by telephone. "They avoided what many would consider evangelistic language, and no one suggested that they prayed to God to help them win. … They were careful not to suggest, in any way, that they had been manipulating the Deity."

This is significant since boastful behavior has become the norm in sports entertainment, Benne recently noted in a Roanoke Times column.

"This is the era of the expressive self," he wrote, under a "Why it's now hard to watch big time football" headline. "Dancing, prancing, running wildly, pounding one's chest with a primal scream. How wonderful, according to the legion of cameras that record every gaping mouth. … The expressive self quickly turns into the aggrandizing self."

Any fusion of proud, pushy behavior and fervent faith would, in "this highly divided country that we have right now," lead to cheers among some viewers and just as many jeers from others, said Benne. Even worse, many commentators immediately interpret statements of public faith as political declarations.

Can Christian colleges 'keep the faith' or is avoiding compromise impossible?

As America's second-oldest Lutheran college, Roanoke College in Virginia's Shenandoah Valley proclaims that it is "never sectarian" in outlook, while maintaining that "critical thinking and spiritual growth" are essential.

The online spiritual-life page also offers this advice: "We encourage you to follow your own personal spiritual path while here at Roanoke." The collage "honors its Christian heritage" and its affiliation with the progressive Evangelical Lutheran Church in America by stressing "dialogue between faith and reason," according to its "Mission & Vision" statement. "Diversity, inclusion and belonging" are strategic goals.

These commitments are "so informal that it's hard to call them doctrinal commitments at all," said Robert Benne, a retired Roanoke College professor who founded its Benne Center for Church and Society. "This is what you see in many Christian colleges. … These vague commitments go along with efforts to embrace whatever is happening in modern culture."

This isn't unusual, he stressed, after studying trends in Christian higher education for decades. In the post-pandemic marketplace, an increasing number of small private schools – religious and secular – face economic and enrollment challenges that threaten their futures.

Leaders of many Christian colleges and universities face a painful question as they try to stay alive: When seeking students and donors, should administrators strengthen ties to denominations or movements that built their schools or weaken the ties that bind in order to reach outsiders and even secular students?