It’s been impossible, in the last couple of days, to get online without running headlong into the debate about the Paris Olympics’ opening ceremony. Even though I’ve muted the word on social media platforms, it still pops up elsewhere.
As usual, the gamut of opinions runs across the board. Many people are insisting that the questionable display was an intentional mockery of the Last Supper. Others are insisting that it was little more of a re-creation of an old painting that depicted a pagan festival. Regardless of “side,” however, one thing is clear: reactions are polarized.
The one reaction I’ve not seen, except by way of omission, is the reaction I’m having: I don’t care. I have more important things to worry about.
Don’t misunderstand: the moment I saw the video, I recognized it as the Last Supper. The number of people around the table wasn’t consistent with that event, but that detail was significantly outweighed by the obvious Eucharistic symbolism in the main character’s headdress. The way she was standing also suggested the moment the priest raises the Eucharist during the Mass.
I don’t completely buy the “Festival of Dionysus” retcon. That explanation first appeared well after the social media frenzy began, and when looking at the painting being referenced, there’s no Eucharist (or sun) imagery in it.
That said, I could accept a statement that the depiction drew inspiration from both sources. Art can do that, after all; creative combinations and re-combinations are part of what makes something into art in the first place. So while I don’t completely accept the Dionysus argument, I’m not going to categorically deny it.
Further, I thoroughly agree that the plethora of memes out there that depict former President Trump as the chosen of God (and worse) are, honestly, as much or even more blasphemous as the Olympics’ opening ceremony. I’ve openly called them that for quite a while; the only reason I’ve not done so on this blog is because I’m just now re-starting it.
Given all this, much of the online outrage at the ceremony’s imagery strikes me as hypocritical and manufactured. At best.
It also strikes me, as I mention above, as people — on both sides of the debate — getting worked up about something very minor. The nature and results of the Olympics, including its opening ceremonies, have zero impact on the vast majority of peoples’ lives. On the other hand, numerous other issues do.
In my case, I’m strongly impacted by developments around healthcare coverage and access in the U.S.A.; they have a direct relevance to my day job. I’m very concerned about the nasty, divisive rhetoric that has replaced reasoned debate in my country; it’s a precursor to violence, and too widespread for my comfort. I’m also concerned about personal matters such as finances and family events.
Those, I care about. This? My reaction began with, “Whatever. I don’t care.”
It ended with a single additional sentence: “I’m used to it.”
When I was growing up, some of the children in my neighborhood and school weren’t allowed to associate with me because my family was Catholic. One of my foster families was bound and determined to “save” me from being Catholic, to the point of punishing me when I quietly declined to take communion at their Protestant church.
As a young adult, when talking about a local political issue, someone bluntly said to me, “We don’t want their kind around.” Over the years, I’ve had many people in my life lecture me (incorrectly) about what the Church teaches, says, and does; and yes, I’ve been explicitly accused of supporting bigotry and pedophilia. I’ve lost friends — and even family — whose presence I had valued. Just a few months ago, while visiting my hometown, someone commented to me that I probably wouldn’t be able to worship at the local Catholic parish since “they don’t speak English there.” (They actually do.)
I’ve had day job-related problems too, although right now I classify them as minor. But I worry that they’re not going to stay that way, as they’ve already become a bit more frequent and some of the political topics being bandied about affect my work in ways that could lead to a direct conflict with my beliefs.
Growing up Catholic in the rural Southeast U.S. taught me what things can hurt me and what can’t, and that my energy is better spent on the things in the former category than in the latter. Further, it taught me how to manage in a secular and pluralistic society. It wasn’t fun to have to face what I have, but it did build my character and equip me for living in the urban Southeast U.S. as an adult. (The percentage of Catholics is higher than in rural areas, but we’re still a minority.)
Further, being descended from Kulturkampf exiles on both sides of my family has taught me that the problems I’ve encountered are nowhere near “oppression.” They are hatred, yes; and they are prejudice. Some of my experiences clearly qualify as discrimination. All of them were wrongs that I should not have suffered.
However, I’ve never had my life threatened, had my rights taken away, or had my allegiance questioned; nor do I have any reason to believe that I should worry about such events in the future. All of these happen to other Catholics every single day, a fact which puts my experiences into their proper perspective.
That’s what all those in the argument over the Olympic opening ceremonies are missing: perspective. Even disregarding the question of blasphemy, the display was crude, lacking in merit and had nothing to do with the “Spirit of the Olympics.” But it was also a scant few minutes amidst what will become hours of other footage; and that footage makes absolutely no difference in most peoples’ lives anyway. It certainly doesn’t in mine.
As for the “but my children saw that!” argument: the connotations of the ceremony are going to pass right over younger children’s heads; and if your older children are so impressionable that a few minutes of television will irreparably harm them, then you probably should reconsider allowing them to watch television in the first place.
At the end of the day, there are more important things to worry about than the Olympics’ opening ceremonies. That’s where our focus should be, not on creating much ado over nothing.