It is surprising how little theological and pastoral reflection has taken place on the nature of human competition—the desire to be better than others—especially when one considers how deeply it structures and undergirds our societies. Certainly this is an ancient and perhaps universal human phenomenon. Nations, tribes, families, and individuals have competed for scarce resources out of necessity, ambition, and fear. We might consider this a function of the Fall: “Cursed is the ground because of you; … By the sweat of your face you shall eat bread” (Gen. 3:17-19).
This appears to be a law of nature as well, as Darwin observed, that life, success, and longevity for one comes at the expense of another. But if this is the case in some way, Christians have typically believed, as Dietrich Bonhoeffer argued in Creation and Fall (1937), that this world’s order is not synonymous with the order of creation but the order of preservation. Which is to say that world fell from God, but not completely, and is now held in a temporary order that will not endure forever.
For this reason, competition should not be conceived as entirely negative, which is what makes it difficult to describe theologically. There are a thousand other forms that are less clear and more difficult to comprehend. As recent political events have reminded Canadians, there is enormous benefit to playing on the same team as a great competitor, in this case the United States.
In security and economic performance, Americans might be the “GOAT,” or perhaps, to dial back the hyperbole, the “Greatest of Recent Human History.” But GOAT sounds better than GRHH. Americans’ performance in these areas has lifted our fortunes in ways that have been very beneficial. Canadians have been like the teammates of basketball player Nicola Jokić, whose jump shots have been elevated by the court vision of a great passer. We have benefited enormously from the competitive prowess of our southern neighbors.
But competition in today’s society has taken on a particularly pervasive and decadent form at almost every level of our lives. Contemporary societies are seemingly by default competitive, and nowhere is this more obvious than in the North American context. We have come to be defined by the ways we channel and circumscribe competitive instincts and desire.
People’s lives, from childhood and into adulthood, will be defined by their ability to compete with others in various forums, whether in sports, the arts, academics, post-secondary education and eventually the workforce. This system seems to be intensifying as our societies age and mature and opportunities become more contested. The upside could be that the level of performance in all these areas might increase. Competition seeks and separates the most skilled and talented and allows these individuals, teams, or companies to flourish. One downside is that many people who cannot compete at these levels are frequently left in the dust.
Another risk in a hyper-competitive society is that we lose the ability to discern the greater purpose of winning in general, in which the pursuit of glory becomes an end in itself, as Augustine observed in The City of God. The overlapping trajectory of these two cities can be difficult to discern and separate at times, even as there are moments when their interests coincide.
It can indeed be a great joy to develop a skill and compete against others who value and cherish the same activity. Competition motivates people to perform at higher levels, and it punishes laziness, complacency, and certain forms of corruption. Competitive ambition can help order one’s life toward higher goals. But the desire to win can compel and captivate us in ways that cause us to overlook obvious moral and spiritual commitments that ought to claim a higher loyalty in our lives. Competitive circumstances can also sweep up individuals who had no interest in the game but find that they are losing nonetheless.
In many ways, Israel’s life in Scripture is driven along by these dynamics and its place in the wider setting of the nations. But Israel’s place among the nations is set apart by its relationship to God, not its cunning or ability in commerce or war: “Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the Lord our God” (Ps. 20:7). The security and prosperity of the nation—realities that are to be treasured—are directly tied to God’s faithfulness and Israel’s adherence to the covenant he established between them.
The rise and eventual demise of the nation was not connected to its loss of competitive edge, but to the degree that it placed trust in the Lord and not the idols and practices of surrounding nations that were often more powerful. The path to restoration, to prosperity and peace, was repentance and renewal of commitment to the Lord: “In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength” (Isa. 30:15). The promise of this kind of restoration implied a peace and reciprocity among the nations that is fulfilled in the new creation: “The nations will walk by its light and the kings of the earth will bring their glory into it” (Rev. 21:24).
When Jeremiah looked at the success of others, especially those who did not appear to be faithful in any way, the Lord’s reply is bracing: “If you have raced with men on foot and they have worn you out, how can you compete with horses?” (Jer. 12:5). The absurdity of the question suggests how little the Lord cares about human speed or other feats of ingenuity, at least if they become ends in themselves.
Jeremiah had not considered that he was competing against both people and horses. The theological irony is that the more we try to distinguish ourselves from others according to our gifts and abilities, the more our lives become washed out in the noisy clamor of self-assertion and aggrandizement that characterizes our societies today. As Paul says, if we do not use our gifts for the sake of others, they are nothing more than a “resounding gong or a clanging symbol” (1 Cor. 13:1).
But the path to exercising gifts in these selfless ways is far from straightforward. Even those of us who have assumed clerical orders will have to admit that somewhere along the line we have carried out our calling and used our gifts in order to bring ourselves glory. It is even possible this is why we chose ministry in the first place, to be special in some way, set apart from others. But the role will eventually bring these vying motivations to the point of crisis: if we are in it for ourselves, it becomes very difficult to carry out the basic requirements of the job, such as visiting the sick, navigating conflict, and enduring what Archbishop Michael Ramsey called the “trivial humiliations” of ministry.
For those of us who spend countless hours driving our children to practices, competitions, or games, we tell ourselves that it is better for kids than playing on screens or doing drugs. And we hope on some level that it will help prepare them for the world by motivating them to live a disciplined and goal-oriented life. All of this is true, but the good of competitive sport, for example, is provisional, in my view, and constantly threatened by the narcissism that lurks within all of us. Our desire to see our kids succeed in any of these venues is, at least in part, an admission that we wish to see our children enjoy the benefits of success that by definition only a few will enjoy.
If competition is unavoidable in our world, so is the tragic element that accompanies any competitive pursuit. To continue with the example of sport, most parents realize that their children’s athletic dreams will end in disappointment as they come to terms with the limitations of their created abilities. Though coaches and observers will often talk about the importance of losing and failure in sport, what they often mean is that losing provides the motivation to persevere and the soil in which future success will be rooted.
But the vast majority of athletes—and this I know from personal experience—will run into an immoveable wall because they simply cannot run faster, become stronger or more skilled, jump higher, or grow taller. The enormous apparatus of youth sport in Western societies is like a vast filtering field, designed by nature and human intention to sift the exceptional from the ordinary. It does this with perfect clarity and cruel precision, despite the lingering dreams of those who might still wonder if they had what it took to make it all the way.
In this way it is possible to understand the competitive environs of youth as a kind of preparation for the gospel. Like the law (an imperfect analogy), competitive pursuits can impart a moral code that helps to restrain and mold human desire in ways that helpfully prepare young people to live with others and to contribute in meaningful ways to a broader purpose.
But like the law, these pursuits can also become vehicles for veiled or unhinged ambition and narcissistic desire, the things about which Jesus warned and criticized the Pharisees. But in either case, competition almost always reveals the limitations of our created ability, as our aspirations and best efforts collide with our inability to perform in the way we wish that we could. Even the greatest athletes grow old and are replaced by younger, more powerful competitors.
There are many ways to encounter our limitations in competitive pursuits and still cling to our spectral delusions of grandeur. It is more than possible to spend our days grasping at versions of ourselves that may have never existed while evading the truth of who we really are. But at least in my life, as a young man, this collision with my inability and failure marked a kind of spiritual death, which opened the door to the one who suffered and died for all of us who “were weak and could not help ourselves” (Rom. 5:6).
The competitive intensity of our society obscures our vision of the cross and self-offering of Jesus, but once we glimpse this reality, it is hard not to see an ax at the root of so much that we value. The challenge for the Christian, as always, is discerning ways to live fruitfully in the midst of one world that is dying and another that is being born.
The Rev. Dr. Dane Neufeld is the incumbent of St. James, Calgary.
