When No One Cheers
by The Rt. Rev. Hector Monterroso
Every World Cup has its stars. We remember the goals, the spectacular saves, and the champions who lift the trophy. Very few of us remember the referees.
Yet sometimes history is made not by those who score the goals, but by those who quietly make the game possible.
This World Cup quietly marked another historic milestone. Tori Penso served as referee, with Brooke Mayo and Kathryn Nesbitt as assistant referees, forming the tournament’s first all-female officiating team. Soon afterward, Katia Itzel García of Mexico also took the field, becoming one of the few women ever to referee a men’s FIFA World Cup match.
Millions watched the matches. Few realized they were also witnessing history.
Yet what impressed me most was not simply that these women reached such an important milestone. It was the nature of the work they were called to do.
The best referee is often the one no one notices. If people leave the stadium talking only about the referee, something has probably gone wrong. A good referee never becomes the center of the match. Instead, the referee quietly protects the game, allowing others to flourish.
The players receive the applause. The coaches give the interviews. The champions lift the trophy. The referees simply walk away—quietly, ready to serve again another day.
Their presence on the field also reminds us that many vocations require perseverance long before they are recognized. Every generation benefits from women and men who faithfully accept difficult callings, not simply for themselves, but so that those who come after them may find the path a little wider and the doors a little more open. The greatest pioneers are not simply those who make history. They are those who make it easier for someone else to follow.
As I reflected on this, I found myself thinking about John the Baptist. When his own disciples noticed that people were leaving him to follow Jesus, John did not become jealous or discouraged. Instead, he spoke words that remain among the most beautiful descriptions of Christian vocation: “He must increase, but I must decrease.” (John 3:30)
John understood that his mission was never to gather followers for himself. His joy was to point others toward Christ.
The same could be said of Andrew. Whenever he appears in the Gospel, he is bringing someone to Jesus. First his brother Simon. Then the boy with the loaves and fish. Later, the Greeks who wished to see Jesus. Andrew is almost never the center of the story. Yet because of his quiet faithfulness, others encounter Christ.
Mary, the mother of Jesus, offers the same witness at Cana. Her final recorded words in Scripture are not about herself but about her Son: “Do whatever he tells you.” (John 2:5) Once again, she quietly points others toward Jesus.
Perhaps that is the hidden beauty of every true vocation. Some callings exist not to draw attention to themselves, but to make it possible for others to flourish.
Over the years, I have discovered that many of the most important ministries in the Church look very much like that. The acolyte who lights the candles before anyone arrives. The altar guild that quietly prepares the Lord’s Table. The musicians who help a congregation sing. The ushers who welcome strangers. The secretary who answers the phone. The volunteers who prepare coffee after worship. The deacons, priests, and bishops who faithfully serve week after week.
When everything goes well, very few people notice them. And perhaps that is exactly as it should be.
Christian ministry has never been about drawing attention to ourselves. It has always been about helping others see Christ. The world often teaches us to seek recognition. Jesus teaches us to seek faithfulness. The world tells us to become the center of attention. The Gospel invites us to become transparent enough that others can see Christ through us.
Perhaps that is one of the unexpected lessons hidden within this World Cup. Four women stepped onto the field carrying whistles instead of trophies. They did not come to receive applause. They came to serve the game.
When the final whistle blew, the players left with memories, the fans with songs, and the referees with little recognition. Yet perhaps they carried home something even greater: the quiet joy of knowing they had faithfully fulfilled the vocation entrusted to them.
Perhaps that is the quiet vocation to which every Christian is called.
Not to become the center of attention.
But to make it easier for others to see Christ.
“He must increase, but I must decrease.”
