The editorial writer of our paper says the Saints are not our Savior, but are a lovely distraction.

Exactly 40 years ago this fall, just as the Saints were fielding their first team, I finished seminary and was soon called to pastor a church in Greenville, Mississippi. The first few games, we were still living in Louisiana and I would rush home after church each Sunday to listen on the radio. In those days, it was a rare game that was televised. We moved to the Mississippi Delta around the first of November and thereafter, it was almost impossible to hear the games. I would sit in my car and listen to WWL through the static and decipher what I could until the strain became too much and I gave it up in desperation.

At night I would sometimes sit in the car and tune in WWL and listen to the sportscasters interview coaches and talk about the team. I could not get to New Orleans and even if I were there, as a pastor I was tied up on Sundays and unable to attend the games, so I did what I could to soak up a little of this city’s love for this team.

Eventually, rooting for the Saints became an endurance trial. They would fall behind early and lose big, or pull out in front and then find a way to lose toward the end. The hapless Chicago Cubs have nothing on the New Orleans Saints.

This week, the city is higher than a kite, basking in the glow of beating the Eagles last Sunday and playing the Bears this Sunday for the NFC championship and a ticket to the Super Bowl. The very idea of playing in the Super Bowl is mind-boggling.

I believe the “who dat” business originated at Mississippi’s Alcorn A & M University years ago. It was something of a chant in dialect: “Who dat? Who dat? Who dat say they gonna beat them Braves? Who dat? Who dat?” Somehow or other it floated downriver to New Orleans, “Braves” morphed into “Saints,” and the chant caught on during the Jim Mora days when we actually began winning some games.

Recently they revived the “Who dat” business and it’s all you hear now. Then somebody started calling this the “Who Dat Nation.” WWL-Radio picked up on it and now bills itself as “The flagship station of the Who Dat Nation!”

Today a judge announced that a particular criminal trial slated to begin Monday will be postponed until Wednesday. His reasoning was that if the Saints win Sunday’s game in Chicago, he would not be able to get enough jurors together for a trial.

The term “Katie bar the door” comes to mind. I’m not sure where that expression originated or even what it means, but it sounds like a full, all-out explosion of joy and excitement. If the Saints win Sunday, the city is in danger of overdosing on pure happiness. Having two weeks between Sunday and the Super Bowl is not going to make it easier either. If anything, the fever will just keep escalating.

Poor Mardi Gras. No one is giving you a thought. It’s all football. Sorry. You come to town every year, but this football fever/pigskin fervor is a new thing and has arrived at a great time for everyone down here. Mardi Gras, you’re scheduled for February 20. If you insist on staying with the schedule–you need to be more flexible if you’re going to survive in this city!–get ready to be ignored.

A radio guy said today that Katrina was the worst thing in the history of New Orleans and that this Saints’ season is the best. I suspect the first is right and the second is a slight exaggeration.

Unless the Saints beat the Chicago Bears on Sunday, then all bets are off.

I told the pastors in our Thursday morning mentoring group that any local pastor who fails to mention the Saints and the championship game this Sunday is missing a great opportunity to connect with what his people are thinking. How he will work that into his sermon is his problem. (I could suggest any number of texts: “With God nothing will be impossible.” Luke 1:37. Or, “the Just shall live by faith.” Romans 1:17. And that’s just for starters.)

The editorial cartoon shows two Saints fans walking along the street. One says, “This Sunday I may do a lot of my praying after church.” The game is at 2 pm.

Michelle Krupa is a young adult who writes for the Times-Picayune. She grew up in Chicago and has lived in our city for 5 years, so you know what’s happening to her this week. She writes in Thursday’s op-ed page how family members in the Windy City started callling her immediately after the Bears beat the Seahawks last weekend to ask, “Who’s it going to be–Bears or Saints?” She hems and haws, reflects on a lifetime of wearing the navy and orange, and tells about some of her rabid family members’ devotion to the Bears. Then she gives us her decision.

“I suppose I could attempt a new list to defend my decision for the upcoming game: New Orleans needs this victory for the viability of its economy, the sanity of its people, the very hope of its future. But truth be told, I’m just going with my gut.”

“So the next time someone asks me where I stand on Sunday’s matchup, they won’t get an answer. Just another question.”

“Who dat?”

The evening news told of planes and trains filling up with locals headed to Chicago. We understand that not many will be able to get tickets, that Bears fans have gobbled them up. But they’re going. “I just want to be there,” one said. Okay, if that’s what you want. Gonna be cold. High 20’s, we’re told, with a 60 percent chance of snow.

Someone told me of the time Wayne Jenkins–our state evangelism director–was in his little daughter’s bedroom listening to her nighttime prayer. “And dear Lord, please let it snow. The weatherman said it might. Please let it snow, Lord.” When she finished, Wayne said, “Honey, you know we have our state evangelism conference this week, and if it does snow, some of the pastors will not be able to get there.” His daughter didn’t bat an eye, but dropped to her knees again and said, “Cancel the snow, Lord.”

We love snow. But not this time. So, cancel the snow, Lord.