When Messi Met G-d: A Theological Exploration of Argentina's World Cup Victory
This piece is a response to Andrés Caro’s “Taking the God Metaphor Seriously: Notes on Messi.” If you are interested in responding to this or any other Musings post, leave a comment below or email info@thelehrhaus.org.
By Darío Helman
This essay is a response to a recent Global Lehrhaus blog post by Andres Caro, in which he presents theological reflections inspired by Argentina’s triumph at the 2022 Football World Cup. I could not help but react to the article, as it touches two core aspects of my personal identity.
First, as an Argentinean, and proud fan of my country’s National Team, I share the joy and gratitude Andrés felt when Argentina, along with their top player, Lionel Messi, was crowned with international football’s top prize. I had to wait 36 years to see an Argentine hold that cup since I last witnessed Maradona raise it high in 1986.
I was, however, a very young child on that occasion so, although the fervor of the victory celebrations is still emotionally vivid in my memory, the event did not move me to reflect on its theological significance. (I also fear I didn’t quite understand the widely evoked metaphor of “hand of G-d [sic — see note below*]”)
Second, as a Jew who has struggled–like the Biblical Jacob–with G-d, or with the idea of the Divine, I feel especially moved to comment on the theological suggestions thoughtfully presented in Andrés’ meditation.
What do we mean when we talk about “G-d”?
The main question Andrés explores in his piece seems to be whether the divine was “operating” at the World Cup by bestowing upon Messi this long-awaited and overdue honor that many around the world were longing to see.
Andrés claims enthusiastically: “We witnessed such a supernal event last December when the best player in soccer's history finally won [the World Cup]…after five attempts,” and closes by writing: “I felt rewarded with a profound [divine] revelation of order and justice.”
These highly expressive lines sound to me as if Andrés is attesting to a religious experience. However, in the conclusion he notes: “I do not believe in God.”
Reading his piece, I was puzzled by such a confession, especially as a closing statement, as for me, that would be the starting point of the theological discussion. The phrase “I believe” (or “I don’t believe”) in G-d is, I think, all-too-often evoked too lightly. Such an affirmation, however, only gains real weight once one elaborates on its theological or philosophical significance. In other words, what is it that you believe or do not believe in? Theologically, this question is neither a light nor a simple matter. Indeed, theology is neither light nor simple.
In the Jewish tradition, some argue that no authority has been able to articulate a universally accepted theology, despite many attempts during that tradition’s millennial history. Moreover, many question whether the concept of belief is actually essential for Jewish religious practice.
In his famous book, Jerusalem, a foundational text of modern Jewish thought published in 1783, Moses Mendelsshon expressed: “The Israelites possess a divine legislation—laws, commandments…but no doctrinal opinions…there is not a single one [law] which says: You shall believe or not believe.”
As I mentioned above, Andrés offers a theologically inflected assessment of Messi’s achievement on the football field. He opens as follows: “According to Biblical tradition, the attributes of God are omniscience, omnipotence, omnipresence, and creativity.,” Based on this last trait, the author sees G-d as the ultimate “Game maker” (the “Game” with capital “G” being the World, in which other smaller games take place).
Elaborating this metaphor further, Andrés suggests that just as Messi sometimes “observes” the game and eventually enters in the action, G-d also seems to be a “spectator” on some occasions, while on others intervenes to change the Game’s conditions.
The problem with such a scheme, I think, is that it becomes difficult to recognize clear patterns for G-d’s providential interventions. This leaves us often with harrowing questions of theodicy, such as why there is so much injustice and suffering in the world, which understandably pushes many into disbelief.
Andrés’ exposition also suggests an important point about divinity: G-d is depicted as essentially an external agent. In other words, G-d appears as just another player–obviously more “talented” and powerful than any of us–just as Messi appears to his teammates.
The Divine inside: an alternative G-d metaphor
Our contemporary conception of G-d as an external agent was perhaps shaped most by Enlightenment thinkers. Based on a Deist philosophy, their theories related G-d to a watchmaker: Upon creating the world, steps aside and lets the world function on its own.
There are, however, other ways of thinking about divine engagement in human affairs, even in the Bible. For instance, a well-known verse in the book of Exodus directly challenges that Deist perspective: “Build me a Sanctuary and I will dwell within you,” (Exodus 25:8 – a more frequent translation is “I will dwell in your midst,” yet the Hebrew (בתוכם) allows both meanings).
In such a framework, G-d is no longer an enigmatic and incomprehensible external Player, but rather, a force that operates “inside,” which we can sense in full intimacy.
Beyond the boundaries of traditional religion, a similar idea is found predominantly in the philosophy of Carl Jung, one of the founders of modern psychotherapy.
Jung understood unconscious forces, and their manifestation as psychological symptoms or dreams, as “higher” spiritual messengers that the ego needs to integrate for a person to become truly whole. (Interestingly, the Mishkan–the Biblical sanctuary–also needs to be “tied together” to become “one whole,” as we read in Exodus 26:6.)
In one of his letters, Jung explains: “the experience of God…is the psychic fact that I find myself confronted with a factor in myself…which proves…to be of insurmountable power…God within the frame of psychology is an autonomous complex, a dynamic image…if not in the psyche, then where else?”
Conclusion
I agree with my compatriot, the Pope: Messi is not a god. He is a fellow human being, yet exceptional in the way he offered, to our delight and his own, the spectacle of an epic Jacobian battle.
As with all mythical heroes, Messi knew he had within the power to realize his deepest desire. However, he could do so only once he reached a psychological and spiritual maturity that perhaps he hadn’t yet attained in prior World Cups (when he was, nonetheless, in better physical condition).
During this long and nerve-wrecking process, he had to be incredibly patient, persistent, and, perhaps most of all, profoundly trusting. As he declared after finally winning: “I knew God would bring this gift to me.”
The World Cup is now over, yet the injustices associated with and beyond it–which Andrés rightly noted–sadly persist. And the ball is, as always, again in our court.
[*Editorial Note: The author places the dash between the G and D because, as he explains: “In Jewish tradition, the divine name is not written in pronounceable form, to reflect, among other things, its transcendent character.”]