I was all set to bring you a lovely little piece on Housewives in Revolt in this blog post (yes, Regency housewives get jack of the menfolk sometimes too), but it’s been postponed - because of the Olympics.
Well, more because of Olympian outrage.
I’m a history buff - I mean, duh. I spend most of my time combing obscure tomes for weird facts and little-known tidbits. When I was a kid I read every history book I could get my hands on. In school, this meant Herodotus, Thucydides, Homer, Plato and Aristotle. I also re-read Marcus Aurelius (poor guy) frequently.
My first solo trip overseas after high school was to Greece. I’d been obsessed with the Ancient Greeks for years - to the point where I didn’t just know the twelve Olympian gods (on whom most early DC comic book heroes are based), I knew their underlings and handmaidens and minions and pets.
Like I said, obsessed. There’s really no obsession like an autistic one - and once my imagination is caught up in a series of stories, there’s no stopping my whirling mind.
I visited the first ever Olympic ‘stadium’ and ran the length of the running field. As I was the youngest in my tour group at the time, I won and was crowned with a laurel wreath - the only time I’ve ever succeeded at anything remotely related to athletic prowess. (I like to keep fit but any feats of physical strength are athletic-adjacent and remain aspirational only.)
I've known of the origins of the Olympic games since my mid-teens. I knew there were no clothes worn by competing athletes and that the Temple of Zeus was where offerings were made before and after the sporting events. I also know women weren't included, and the men had a blast.
Still, the reaction to this week's Olympic opening ceremony caught me completely off guard. I saw nothing in the performances but Ancient Greek symbols. They felt like familiar friends.
A Feast, not a Supper:
I recall the pride with which I presented my assignment on the Dionysia when I was 14 years old. The Dionysia was a drama festival dedicated to the god Dionysus (the blue guy crowned with grapes in the ceremony).
The celebration of art and music ended in a pagan feast and if you think that sounds like an orgy, you’re not wrong. You may have also heard it called a Bacchanal, because Dionysus is also known as Bacchus. That’s what the Romans called him anyway (while we’re looking at which culture is which, and who co-opted what)...
Like most Ancient Greek festivals, these banquets were usually full of promiscuous behaviour, incredibly extravagant, and loud. The Ancient Olympics, held in honour of the original Olympian, Zeus, was no exception. The athletes competed in the nude for the most part, and celebrated afterwards with as much dedication as they trained beforehand.
Lengthy feasts in honour of the gods could carry over for days. The competitors would have celebrated Dionysus with lots of wine so no one was sober. He’s also worshipped as a fertility god, not to mention the god of feasts and basically just the dude in charge of a good time.
In addition, Dionysus is traditionally the father of Sequana, Goddess of the Seine and it was she who approached on horseback along the river. I believe the artistic director when he says he was depicting the Ancient Greek Olympian gods - after all, I thought this was obvious.
The Feast of the Gods:
I also enjoyed the suggestion that the piece was inspired by the painting The Feast of the Gods by Jan van Bijlert, from 1635. I’m willing to believe the Dutch art scholar Walther Schoonenberg (@WSchoonenberg) who took to Twitter to explain that Van Bijlert was apparently inspired by The Last Supper to depict a heathen feast, hence his orgy of Olympians, but as to being offended by an artistic performance showcasing a connection to an orgiastic celebration from ancient times - when that’s the very tradition that brought it into being - I’m afraid I can’t manufacture any outrage at all.
Nope, not even at the suggestion that Apollo was ‘depicted by a woman.’ Not when one of my favourite mythological figures is the child of Hermes and Aphrodite - can you guess their name? The Ancient Greek depictions of this divine child are beautiful.
Defending the Faith:
It seems that if one is determined to be angry, one need only seek a target and any people having more fun will do. As much of this protest appears US-born, I’m reminded of the Puritans’ collective aversion to dancing, music and singing. Perhaps the Olympics isn’t their kind of party.
Defending the Church:
I’m not discounting the church denouncing the ceremony by the way, but let’s not forget that they have a vested interest in shouting down alternative beliefs in general, and went to great lengths to stamp out polytheism and paganism in particular.
Finally, while we’re shouting about which tradition was - and wasn’t - mocked, I’d like to remind those still holding their pearls that The Last Supper depicts a Jewish Passover seder - so defend Christianity if you feel you must, but I can’t see that it’s under any greater attack than usual. The Catholic Church habitually plays offence.
France, home to one of the oldest and most revered cathedrals in the world, surely knows this.
Next week: Women in revolt (also topical, no?)
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