The American Revolution eventually produced a constitution that sparked controversy among Antifederalists because it did not mention God. At virtually the same time this “atheistic” constitution got underway here, the French Revolution, though inspired by our own, abolished the Church, tore down religious monuments, renamed the streets to rid the cityscape of religious and saintly references, and even created a new calendar to strip it of its holy days and pagan antecedents. It went on to murder between 30,000 and 50,000 of its own citizens, nearly 20,000 of them beheaded in the streets, including King Louis XVI, his wife Marie Antoinette (whose murder was unambiguously parodied in the opening Olympic ceremony), and thousands of clergy, many of them low-level priests. The king and queen’s surviving daughter, 14-year-old Marie-Thérèse, became a refugee. Their surviving son, the Dauphin Louis-Charles, was beaten and starved to death in prison after he was orphaned. He was 10 years old.

 

The tableau in the opening ceremony of the Olympics was not my kind of thing. The world is full of things that don’t appeal to me, including many (not all) of the sporting events held at the Olympics; loud, showy performances of most any kind; and drag shows. As an adult, I acknowledge this as an immutable truth and take up a book, write something, work on something, or change the channel. I recognize that cable news, the internet, and social media have found ingenious methods of monetizing outrage, especially among religious people, and I incorporate that into my thought process when something like this occurs. Like you, I don’t enjoy having my deeply held convictions, values, and beliefs ridiculed by others; but I register my objections—when I have them—by refusing to bite the hook. I have neither the ability nor the inclination to bend even individuals, let alone entire societies, to my personal will, and I am cognizant enough of history to fear “leaders” who propose to do it for me. No thanks; I’m good.

 

Was the tableau in the opening ceremony a parody of Leonardo’s The Last Supper? Maybe. I have not dug deeply enough into the ceremony’s background to know for sure, but though it obviously incorporated elements from Greco-Roman mythology and modern (in the historiographical sense—post-1700 or so) French history, the arrangement and the performers’ poses suggest, to me anyway, that it was based on The Last Supper. I don’t deny it, but I don’t know

 

Having acknowledged that, I next ask how much it matters if true: is Leonardo’s The Last Supper Christianity itself on a wall or is it a painting? The events described in the New Testament happened around 2,000 years ago. Leonardo painted The Last Supper in the late 1490s—after Columbus’s first voyage to the Americas even. I can’t help wondering if some Christians, especially those in the various heretical sects that predated the Protestant Reformation, had they seen it (it was painted on an interior wall of a building, so few people outside the immediate area saw it in those early days), might not have been angered by it. The figures in the painting are wearing brightly colored robes. Is that how wandering preachers in 1st-century Judea dressed? Is that how Jesus Christ dressed? Would there have been a tablecloth? Did they dine in such a magnificent hall? A little splashy, is it not? I’m an American historian (if I am, in fact, a historian), so I honestly don’t know. My point is that a High Renaissance painting done in the 1490s by a man with some quite unusual ideas and beliefs, of something that happened 1,500 years before and for which there are no visual records, might itself offend people spiritually devoted to the story portrayed, particularly in light of the rampant and highly persistent anti-Catholic bigotry that was already simmering in Europe at the end of the 15th century. Let us remember that, in the mid-17th century, church officials casually cut a door through the painting, removing Christ’s feet, which are said to have been held in the position of a cross! Is this painting, then,  religiously sacrosanct? I don’t know. People have to decide that for themselves. On the other hand, even if the answer is no, might people wanting to attack Christianity single out the painting as a recognizable symbol? Sure. Is it true that the Olympic Committee or whoever is in charge would never have allowed such a performance to be directed at any other religion? Probably; for what it’s worth, that rings true to me. Short of not watching, is there much you can do about it? No. Most of my readers will never be big supporters of gaudy drag shows with religious overtones. Likewise, you have zero chance of turning the average young denizen of the 21st century Parisian art scene into a rural American Protestant.

 

Of the drag element in this controversy, I will say that the French, especially Parisians, are far more accepting of such things than are most Americans outside of major cities. Paris had drag shows before the dust had cleared from either of the world wars. For myself, I don’t go to drag shows for the same reason I don’t go to tractor pulls, modern country music performances, or left-wing riots: they are not my thing, and I don’t see how they could improve my life. So, I live in Paris, Tennessee and don’t go to drag shows; however, I have never lost a minute of sleep because someone in Paris, France might be at one. I do find it instructive, though, that so many American Christians found drag the most offensive element in an elaborate performance that parodied, even celebrated, the real-life, quasi-judicial public beheading of a terrified, 37-year-old mother of two who was also the owner of several beautiful cats.

 

K.T.B.

07/28/2024