MAY 8 — Religion, according to Karl Marx, is the opium of the masses.
That used to be the case. In a world of uncertainty and inequality, belief in God served the useful twofold purpose of providing a message of hope and salvation, while also encouraging everyday folk to accept their place in the world rather than attempting to disturb the social order.
But a lot has changed in the last 150 years, and in Western Europe religion now no longer enjoys the all-powerful position it occupied for many centuries.
Although it would be something of an overstatement to definitively assert that God is Dead, it is undoubtedly the case that in many parts of the world secularism rules, with religion relegated to the status of a fringe, minority-group interest.
True, some religious customs are lingering, such as the Christmas and Easter holidays, and turning up at church for life-changing events such as births, weddings and funerals.
There is, however, a huge difference between following old timeworn rituals for the sake of tradition and consciously practising religion on a day-to-day basis.
And although I know plenty of people who would loosely describe themselves as “Christian”, I can count on one hand the number who actually believe concepts such as heaven and hell, Adam and Eve and the Immaculate Conception. Scientific advances have made those beliefs untenable, and now the majority of religious belief is token rather than genuine.
That doesn’t mean, though, there is no longer a need for Marx’s “opium of the masses.” The world is still unfair, death is still inevitable and another powerful source of emotional support has leapt into the void once occupied by Jesus and his disciples: football.
It is very difficult to overstate the importance that football plays in the lives of millions upon millions of people in Western Europe, and the phenomenon is never more evident than this time of year, when the end of the season is approaching and the most prestigious titles are being handed out.
In Britain, for example, it has been impossible to move this week without hearing the word “Leicester” following that city’s team’s improbable triumph in the English Premier League, while Spain is gripped by the Champions League after Madrid’s top two teams qualified for the final, and Germany is devouring itself in contemplation of Bayern Munich’s failure to do so.
I don’t think a comparative study has ever been carried out, but I am sure the number of churchgoers is now dwarfed by the number of people who regularly attend football matches.
This weekend alone, as a rough estimate around one million spectators will turn up to watch the 29 games which will be contested in the English, German and Spanish top divisions.
And that, of course, is just the in-stadia attendance — if you also included all the lower-league games and “live” television audiences, you could blow away annual church attendance figures in just two days.
Football is everywhere, and in many ways its social function bears more than a passing resemblance to the role formerly played by religion.
For starters, it is irrational. In the same way that it used to be illogical to believe that Jesus walked on water or turned water into wine, now it makes no good sense for grown adults to invest a huge chunk of their emotional and financial resources into watching other grown adults run around a field wearing shorts.
But, just like religion, the irrationality of football is overwhelmed by its strong emotional appeal, starting with the element of community it provides to followers.
We humans are inherently and deeply social animals, and in the alienated modern world of long daily commutes, not knowing the names of our neighbours and year-round “fresh” strawberries, the act of being a fan provides a much-needed sense of belonging and camaraderie.
The football flock also have, of course, their places of worship, with spacious and shiny 50,000 capacity stadia easily substituting for once-grand but now-sparsely populated temples and cathedrals.
The comparisons continue: in place of hymns, football provides terrace chants; for revered saints, we have Lionel Messi and Jose Mourinho; for sectarian disputes, there is Manchester United versus Liverpool.
More than anything else, however, football is akin to religion because it sells hope.
For centuries, millions of people found a welcome escape from their daily woes by bowing their heads in silent prayer, asking the Lord for His mercy but also accepting He also works in mysterious ways and does not answer every prayer.
Now, football fans can live for the next game and the next season, praying for their team to beat their local rivals and maybe even win some silverware, whilst understanding defeat is more likely than victory.
Just look at the images of Leicester fans celebrating this week. If their delirious, uncontrollable, all-consuming joy isn’t a modern-day equivalent of religious ecstasy, I don’t know what is.
Those Leicester supporters have experienced tough times. They have known many hardships and their loyalty has been challenged. But they have stayed faithful to their religion, and now they have found their version of heaven on earth.
They might not believe in God; but at least they can believe in Claudio Ranieri.
