Ted Lasso — the Promise of a Christless Christianity

I love Ted Lasso.

And I don’t just mean the comedy series from Apple TV. I mean, I love Ted Lasso the man.

I know Ted is the long-gestated vanity project of comedian Jason Sudeikis who started out as a clueless American coach in London for a series of sketch-length promos for NBC’s premier league coverage in 2013. But I don’t care. Ted feels real to me. And I love the guy.

And so, it seems, does everyone.

Caroline Framke from Variety wrote that Ted “chipped away at my scepticism until there was none left – just like the character himself does to everyone he meets.”

J. R. Forasteros says, “Ted has no agenda beyond being fully present to those in his life. His only goal is to enable them to succeed—and for Ted, success only coincidentally, and occasionally, means winning. He stands up to bullies (in the kindest way possible). He challenges toxic behavior. He readily accepts help when he is vulnerable. And he rushes to forgive when he is wronged.”

And writing for the New Yorker, Doreen St Felix concludes, “Ted seems to be not a character but a kind of powerful infection… Eventually, everyone is disarmed. That’s the viewer’s experience of the show as well: you’re resistant, worn down, and then, happily, you submit.”

Well, consider me infected. I find myself sighing affectionately, “Oh Ted,” after he’s just said something sweetly thoughtful.

The guy is just full of love.

Little wonder that some Christian commentators have held Ted up as what C. S. Lewis called “a little Jesus,” an exemplar of all that a Christian should aspire to be like. I’ve read articles comparing him to Dostoevsky’s Christ figure, Prince Mishkin. He’s been called a pure innocent, more hopeful than Pollyanna, kinder than a saint.

And I was on board with all that until the Christmas special in Season 2. Then a nagging concern I’d been feeling came to the surface.

To be sure, the Christmas special, titled “Carol of the Bells” was peak Lasso – unrelentingly cheerful and poignantly charming. It built to a triptych of touching yuletide scenes.

In the first, the perpetually put-upon Higgins and his family host an open house for players who don’t have family in town and so many turn up they have to create a makeshift banquet table. The day turns into a multicultural feast of epic proportions, full of love and grace, with the usually overlooked Higgins becoming a much-loved host.  

In the second sequence, the normally gruff ex-player Roy Kent and his girlfriend Keeley, who had originally had a “sexy Christmas” planned, end up spending the night searching for a dentist to solve Roy’s little niece’s halitosis problem.

And thirdly, Ted, who has been separated from his son back in the US and was planning to just drink whisky and watch It’s a Wonderful Life, is recruited by the team owner Rebecca to help her deliver bags of gifts to disadvantaged children, something he does with great glee.

“I couldn’t think of a better way to spend Santa’s birthday,” quips Ted.    

And then it occurred to me. The whole episode epitomized everything Christ taught us. The banquet for the outsiders; the selfless search for medical care for a vulnerable child; the beauty of gift-giving. The show was a paeon to doing unto others what you’d have them do unto you. It was a series of snapshots of the Kingdom of God as Jesus taught. But it was Santa’s birthday.

And then when I thought back over the preceding episodes I realized that God never gets mentioned in Ted Lasso. That mightn’t be surprising in the cynical post-Christendom Londoners. But in Ted? Ted Lasso himself is a variation on an American archetype you don’t see much anymore: the innocent naïf, the pure-of-heart bumpkin, the uncultured savant. Think of Gomer Pyle or Gilligan or Kenneth from 30 Rock. And that kind of archetype is usually religious. In fact, their simple religious faith is often perceived as evidence of their naivete.

But not Ted. There doesn’t seem to be a religious bone in his body. His kindness, his thoughtfulness, his unremitting positivity springs apparently from somewhere deep within his American soul. He brings joy. He repairs relationships. He changes lives. All by himself.

And look at how he has converted all the other characters around him. The awkward Higgins becomes the life of the party. The bad-tempered Roy starts coaching a kids’ football team. And Rebecca, who began Season 1 as a cynical hard-as-nails business woman, has turned into a softy and gooey Mrs Claus.

Ted Lasso seems to suggest we can have all the things Jesus taught without having to bother with Jesus himself. But in the gospels, the birth narratives frontload the kingship of Jesus. Angels praise him, foreign astrologers honor him, simple men and women declare him to be the promised one. Even a local king attempts to assassinate him as a rival. The message is clear: a heavenly king has come to establish his kingdom on earth. And that kingdom will be characterized by joy, peace, healing, justice and deliverance from oppression. But the benfits of the kingdom are only possible in relationship with the king.

Some might say I’m nit-picking here. The show is made by Apple TV not TBN, after all. But I don’t expect Ted Lasso to start preaching the gospel. I’m just saying the complete lack of any reference to anything remotely religious or Christian seems glaring when the show itself is so, well, Christian. And that seemed all the more glaring in a Christmas special.

In his book Disappearing Church, Mark Sayers writes, “Today, we want the Kingdom without the King.”

In a recent interview, Sayers explains further, “Post-Christianity is ultimately the project of the West to move beyond Christianity whilst feasting on its fruit. Thus, it constantly offers us options and off ramps, in which we seemingly can have what we enjoy about faith, but without the sacrifices and commitments.”

Ted Lasso offers the promise of a Christless kind of Christianity — a world of repaired relationships, multiethic banquets, and renewed souls — with no reference to Christ himself. And in Sayers’ mind that makes it part of the insidious push in Western culture to use soft power to eat away at our commitments.

I still love Ted. But I’ll be watching the rest of Season 2 through a different lens.

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The views expressed are my own and do not necessarily represent the official views of Morling College or its affiliates and partners.

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15 thoughts on “Ted Lasso — the Promise of a Christless Christianity

  1. Thanks for unpacking what I was feeling but could not yet nail down in my heart or mind. Spot on.

    1. I agree. This season (second show, I think) the comment was made: “let’s pray” and Ted’s response: “But who would we even pray to?”
      That’s when I realized it was devoid of any reference to the Divine, much less Christ. It made me sad and your insights clarified why.

      1. But why? Why do Christians (here) think they have the patent on human decency? I think personal faith is good, but judging others is something I just won’t do (something Lasson gives a whole speech on in the first season). Ted Lasso is good because he wants to be good. He’s being empathetic because he has empathy.

        1. Nah, Christians certainly don’t have a monopoly on being decent. But the stuff we are all inspired by (complete selflessness, keeping at loving even when you don’t like a particular person, loving enemies, etc.) that we associate with Christ… it’s not often I see it outside of the context of a deep relationship with God. Not that people can’t be taught to act well, but again, the self-sacrificing, selfless stuff I usually only find in saints.

        2. Um… you are judging others by asking why Christians think they have the patent on human decency….

          Regardless, a Christless Christmas was designed by no accident. It’s the worldview of the creators of the series. And it’s not realistic as has been proven for two thousand years.

  2. The Kingdom of Ted.

  3. Yep. My lockdown sugar coated, fantasy life is Good Witch (Hallmark Channel – says it all really). Also, community, friendship, wisdom, reconciliation, love, joy, hope etc etc with a sprinkle of mysticism – but no divine. Pointed out painfully in recent episode where a character quoted “Love is patient, love is kind…and who knows where that came from even!”

  4. Mike, I loved your observations,.. but draw the line at Mark S’s.

    This may well be Kingdom without the King,.. and that IS a problem, but there certainly is much that angels would rejoice in. What you have described is is NOT ‘the fruits’ without sacrifice or commitment! i see gutsy self-emptying all over the place in your examples.

    So the question remains, how did the follow-ing overtake the leader in our culture? How did people lose sight of the One who demonstrated, explored and invited us into belonging in and joining on the Kingdom way? I wonder if religion, particularly cerebral protestant NT letters-and-propositions-based teaching has shifted the focus shifting away from the Jesus of the Gospels, to a transactional faith. I wonder if the Pentecostal focus on miracles and worship has shifted focus to power-encounters, rather than citizen-follower relationship. In my experience neither holds Kingdom & King together. Maybe it’s time for more Jesus the Fool, from you, Mike (-:

  5. I don’t think regular unchurched, non-Christian people would buy Ted Lasso’s sincerity if he were overtly a Christian. It’s more believable to them if he isn’t. Not sure what that says about the church right now, but darn well ought to worry us if we love Her.

  6. I think they made fun of God and prayer early on in the series, if I remember right.

  7. I’ve never seen it, but maybe the church is so unlike Jesus that it wouldn’t have been believable if he had been an American christian?? T%hat hurts, but maybe.

  8. This is sad but also common, I think (attempting to have a Christian portrayal but denying it’s either Christian or not including Christ.)
    It hurts when you examine a show you enjoy & find out it’s flaws.
    Yet there is good to be claimed here, if only to point out that Ted shows what am actual Christian might look like.
    However, that’s it. Ted can’t be a Christ-like figure because he is clearly a regular human being. And thus flawed & capable of mistakes.
    Putting our faith in him or, as the show appears to suggest, our own goodness, we will ultimately fail.
    Because our own goodness can’t make up for or erase the bad & evil that we do.
    And least anyone think what they’ve done isn’t that bad, read The Screwtape Letters.

  9. I was also put off that according to Sam, Christmas reminds him of colonialism.

  10. Not to mention the demonic voodoo seance to get rid of the curse of the treatment room. Referring to God as a “she”. Ted divorcing his wife not on the ground of sexual immorality and committing adultery with another woman. And numerous other glaring issues that irked me over the first season that made me stop halfway through the season 1 finale.

    Ted Lasso the show seems to cross the line of secularism and tries to be all about having the appearance of godliness, but denying its power (2 Tim. 3:5). Christians would do well to avoid such shows.

  11. I’m surprised that Ted’s nice-ness and optimism is being called “Christlike” when the show makes it clear that Ted’s need to be loved is pathological. His obsession with serving others is what undid his marriage. He frequently seeks out others not because he loves them, but because he wants them to love him. I love Ted, too; the show and the character/man. I love him because he *is* struggling to find that balance between being kind, giving, and selfless but not submitting to a self-abnegation that is ego driven and self-destructive.

    For the record, I completely agree that this is Christ-less world, but the “salvation” is not spiritual. It is, for the series, psychological. The true Christ figure in Ted Lasso is not Ted, but Dr. Sharon Fieldstone, who is able to get Ted to be “healed.” This is a world in which healing comes not through the death and resurrection of Christ, but through the work of the therapist who uncovers the “sins” passed, not from Adam, but our parents. The therapeutic self and a world healed through psychology isn’t unique to Lasso’s world, but I don’t think even the show itself is holding up Ted as our exemplar. Nice-ness without soul is empty. While I don’t think psychology is the true answer, denying the cult of niceness is a good place to start when seeking the real answers in Christ.

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