Olympic Outrage and Christian Canines
"I used to think that way, until I read a few outraged threads on X which changed my mind completely."
- Literally Nobody Ever
On Friday, in the midst of a bunch of wild and crazy and super French stuff, this happened at the opening ceremony of the Paris 2024 Olympics:
The Olympics People later said it was definitely not the Last Supper, but different Olympics People said it actually was “inspired by” the Last Supper. They also said, “If people have taken any offense we are, of course, really, really sorry,” which everyone knows is just a way of saying “we’re mildly bummed you’re hurt, but we’re not sorry we did it.”
Even that non-apology drew criticism from folks who think the Olympics shouldn’t have apologized to begin with: “What bothers people isn’t that we're reproducing this painting. What bothers people is that queer people are reproducing it.” (So it is the Last Supper, then?)
“Clearly there was never intention to show disrespect to any religious group,” said more Olympics People.
Ah yes. Clearly.
Anyway, a lot of (non-Olympics) people are Well and Properly Outraged. The World Council of Church has even (gasp!) asked for an explanation, please.
Other people are laughing at the outraged people because it’s fun to watch people get their knickers atwist at something you think isn’t worth getting atwisted about, especially when you think those people are a bunch of inquisitional hypocrites anyway who don’t practice what they preach.
So everyone’s shouting onto their social media platform of choice.
After all, it’s pretty easy to get all frothed up about Other People Over There Doing Bad Things.
And sometimes?
That’s actually a good thing.
Sure, lots of edgy and crazy and impressive and artistic things were on display at that opening ceremony.
And yes, free speech goes both ways.
But there are some lines that are at the very least inappropriate to cross.
Some pretty vulgar things were on display at that opening ceremony.
Mocking others’ beliefs is wrong, no matter what those beliefs are.
Desecrating something sacred is wrong, even if you disagree with that faith.
We should know better in our world today.
We should call out evil in the world.
We should stand up for what we believe in.
Unfortunately, Elon Musk might have gotten it right:
A few commentators have suggested that if we were talking about Islam instead of Christianity we’d have a very different news cycle. A very toothy news cycle.
We don’t want too much teeth.
We don’t want to take up literal arms and die by the sword.
So what does it mean to actually, effectively stand up for our beliefs?
I’m a Catholic.
That scene on the Seine does hurt.
It hurt because it takes something at the core of who I am and twists it and pretends everything’s normal and everything’s fine.
It’s not just art. Or art about art.
It’s someone taking a beautiful reminder of the most precious gift you’ve ever been given by the person you love most in the world and ripping it to vulgar pieces and calling it art and saying you’re wrong for being upset.
That’s worth getting angry about.
After all, Jesus got angry when He saw people making a mockery of what the Temple stood for, and he had pretty good judgment.
This kind of mockery shouldn’t surprise us, though. After all, He did sort of predict about 2000 years ago that we’d be mocked (and other things) for our faith in Him and whaddya know He was right.
So we’re not surprised, but we are angry. Hurt. Sad. Upset. Eloquently fuming.
What do we do with that?
Do we pop off a brilliant, well-reasoned 240 characters or whatever it’s up to nowadays, wait for the likes to roll in, argue with Internet People in the comments for a day or two, and sit back, wondering when the Vatican will send us a papal notification that we’ve earned the prestigious title of Defender of the Faith (and probably Protector of the Orphan too)?
I sit down and I hammer out an essay and consider my work done, of course. (I’m ready whenever you are, Pope Francis.)
In the meantime, the Catholic bishops of the world are saying two things:
We’re upset, Olympics People.
Pray. Fast. Make reparation.
About that second bit.
It doesn’t get quoted as much, because it’s not very fun.
It’s a lot more fun to get angry online. It’s a lot easier. It takes a lot less investment of my actual self.
But it certainly won’t convince Mr. or Ms. Literally Nobody Ever.
And it does nothing at all to heal the hurt.
That scene hurts because it centers around the Last Supper, the Eucharist, the source and summit of our Christian faith, the great gift of Christ himself on the cross.
But it doesn’t just hurt our hearts.
It hurts His.
He is despised. Rejected. A man of sorrows.
If we want to help heal that hurt, we can.
Stand up. Speak out when our faith is being attacked and compromised. Defend, in charity—they know not what they do.
Not just from behind the safety of a keyboard, either.
If we want our faith to have teeth, we need to talk to real humans in real life about our beliefs. To have the courage to, in person, speak the truth in love. To share our faith.
I dare you: Ask someone today if there’s anything you can pray for them for. (Bet you won’t—odds are you’re a spiritual pansy like me.)
But don’t stop there.
Actually spend some extra time in prayer. Jesus is God and outside of time, and He invites us to watch one hour with Him in his agony in the garden. He is human, too, and His heart hurts. Go sit and just be with Him to offer comfort. “Stay here and keep watch with me,” he asks us.
If you have a Catholic church with an adoration chapel near you, it’s the perfect place for this. We Catholics believe that the Eucharist exposed there is really, truly Jesus Himself. Even if you’re not Catholic, you have to admit it seems like an appropriate response to an insult to the Last Supper. It’s always a nice, quiet place to pray, too.
But don’t stop there.
Fast. Deny yourself something you want out of recognition that there’s more to who we are than the bacchanalian pleasure of immediate gratification. Suffer, just a tiny bit, in solidarity with Him Who suffered so much for us.
But don’t stop there.
The real healing, the real counter-attack that us Christians are too toothless to do is to love fearlessly.
To speak to that homeless guy on the street corner while you wait for your red light to turn green.
To visit some sick folks in the nursing home who have nobody else left.
To volunteer at a soup kitchen for an hour or two.
To call someone you need to forgive and forgive them.
I’m writing this up and I’m thinking now of something I’ll be doing tomorrow. It’s nothing earth-shattering, just being consciously charitable, open, and present to someone I sometimes try to avoid instead.
But it’s something with a little tiny bit of a Christian canine.
And it’ll do a lot more to bring the love of Christ to the world than getting Internet Angry. It won’t change L.N.E.’s mind, but it might touch their heart.
The world has seen a parody of the face of Jesus, and it doesn’t recognize that anything’s wrong.1
But if people don’t know what the face of Christ looks like, it’s because we Christians haven’t shown them.
Unless it’s not about the Last Supper after all, in which case we still should do all these things anyway.