People look back at the ancient Greeks, who were supposed to be so clever and advanced, and wonder how they could believe all those stories about Olympian deities and mythological heroes.  How smart is that, to base your religion around ancient demi-gods who supposedly killed some monsters and wreaked havoc in battle?  We tend to shake our heads, too, at “primitive” cultures that worship ancestors and engage in polytheistic rituals.  But if we think we’re much different today, try to imagine how some distant or future culture might view our own habits and beliefs.

I once visited the home of a casual acquaintance in western Indiana, and he asked me with a bit of a gleam if I was a fan of Bobby Knight.  Now, Coach Knight is a legend in a lot of Hoosier circles, steeped in lore, a bringer of victories, a larger-then-life personality.  The fellow took me to his den, which was devoted to IU Hoosier memorabilia from the Knight era, photos, framed newspaper articles, game paraphernalia, an autograph from the man himself in a position of central prominence.  The care in the arrangement, the lighting, the sense of tableau – the scene can only be described as a shrine.

That kind of thing is not uncommon, in varying degrees, with the dynamic and inspiring figures of sports, film, music and political celebrity.  How many people have beatific portraits in the heart of their homes of MLK, or JFK, or Bono, Princess Di, Nelson Mandela, Elvis?  Okay, so there’s a degree of reverence towards modern icons, bordering on idolatry, but that’s still different from treating mythological heroes as pervading spirits with the capacity to intervene in human affairs to the benefit of devotees.  Isn’t it?

I recall an NFL game where the Bears were playing on Walter Payton’s birthday or anniversary of his death, I forget which.  It came down to a field goal attempt as time expired, and a Bears victory was sealed with a block.  The player who tipped the ball said in the interview afterwards that he felt like Walter was there, helping to lift him up.  Post-game hyperbole?  Fervent imagination?  A genuine mystical experience?  It doesn’t matter – the point is this is the kind of story that still flies today, an instance of a nudge from a fallen hero.

After Dale Earnhardt crashed at Daytona and died in 2001, you’d see occasional bumper stickers showing his tilted “3,” white on black, with a yellow halo over it.  To a segment of his fan base, he was a continuing presence, the great Intimidator, maybe tapping bumpers from up on high to clear the way for true believers.

But does all that really have a religious dimension, akin to the animal-sacrificing rites of ancient pagans?  Perhaps not the blood sacrifice part, but a world densely populated with invisible spirits capable of hearing prayers: that still enjoys widespread support in modern society.  Not to pick on Catholics, but consider the rich world of canonized saints.  What do they have in common?  They were all once people, they’re all dead, they’ve performed miracles, and they are listening to your thoughts and are prepared to render aid and comfort in your time of need.

In broader Christian terms, many denominations embrace the concept of angels, possibly the spirits of godly humans, with powers to grant grace, or peace of mind, or in some instances to unleash the wrath of God.  How many people continue to have conversations, aloud or in private thought, with departed loved ones?  We yearn for a connection with our deceased family members, we want them to go on sharing our experiences, we listen for their voices.

For those with a literalist interpretation of the Bible, there’s an intriguing passage in Genesis describing the proliferation of humanity, where “sons of God” saw “daughters of men,” found them fair and took them as wives.  The daughters of men bore children to the sons of God, and they were mighty men of old, men of renown.  The same passage also remarks, in passing, that “there were giants in the earth in those days.”  This is, notably, at the mythological end of the Bible, the same chapter that introduces Noah.  But it doesn’t seem so different from Herakles, Theseus and Akhilles.

Is the point here that modern Christians are as superstitious and silly as those who worshipped pantheons of gods and demi-gods thousands of years ago?  Not at all.  To the contrary, the lesson is that humans throughout the ages have had a universal aspiration to comprehend a spiritual realm beyond our immediate senses.  We seek to transcend the physical and perceive the mystical.  We draw inspiration from the exceptional, and warm our souls with the shining spirits who dwell among us for a time and linger after they’re gone.

I can’t say, over history, whose concepts of the world of spirits are right or wrong.  But it’s myopic to regard the religions of old as naïve and primitive.  Someday, someone far removed may look at us the same way.  And they, too, will probably have their own version of hero worship.