#109: We can do better than hating on the Olympics opening ceremony
Let's chase the zeitgeist instead to find out what is truly cool
Condemnation is like a dying star, it sucks Light.
It’s common though because it is simple: just choose, either right or wrong. The lazy, arrogant part inside us gobbles that easy metric up. Unchecked and in a conducive environment (like religion), condemnation can develop a ferocious appetite and swallow up everything around us under neat, self-administered labels.
Onto the Olympics opening ceremony. Condemning, debating, and fighting this historic moment feels like the least constructive use of our energies. Obviously, if we are prone to condemnation it presents a delicious meal. But we all know what happens when we gorge ourselves on rich food, sleep is not far behind. For those of us who aspire to awakeness the more subtle, selfish question the transgender depiction of the Last Supper poses is, ‘What does this mean for me?’
And the answer to that is both deliciously complicated and terrifyingly scary.
Context is important here. The Paris Olympics 2024 Manifesto opening slide declares the goal of this year’s game - “Unity in diversity”. The opening page of the manifest reads: “Unity in Diversity” means first of all respect for different cultures, genders, social backgrounds, perceptions, attitudes and opinions”. The decision to depict the Christian Last Supper with a transgender cast is therefore fascinating. Many of the 2.3 billion humans who put their faith in a Christian God are openingly or secretly against the Anglican church’s stance on homosexuality and transgenderism. In fact, the Christian church in 2024 could probably be described as a stronghold of conservatism and anti-inclusive thinking.
Therefore by taking this, the most sacred symbol of the Christian faith, and portraying it in drag is disrespectful to the extreme and a clear violation of the manifesto goal of “Unity in diversity”. But that is easy to spot. What is delicious is how did this happen on the Olympic stage. Clearly, there is a need for the Church and Transgender community to dialogue in a way that doesn’t involve screaming. But the first thing that makes very little sense is why this dialogue happened at the Olympic Games under a manifesto that aimed for the ‘respect of different cultures’? The second thing that makes very little sense is how it happened. The Olympics is not an art exhibition. It is arguably the biggest, most viewed stage on planet Earth. Every decision then is made rigorously by a committee. Literally thousands and thousands of hands and heads would have had to give their signed consent for it to take place.
And that’s where things get interesting. The fact that it still happened means one of these four things was at work -
Incompetence
Everyone thought it was a good idea
It was in poor taste
It was influenced by an outside agenda
First up: personally I cannot fathom it being incompetence. The vision in Thomas Bach’s manifesto is clear and what you would expect. Unity through the shared “world ethos” sports provide. And let’s not forget the Games are happening in France, a highly developed nation that has a stable GPD, despite big challenges, thanks to clever, hardworking humans. So incompetence on the biggest stage in the world feels like a fiction novel…
And everyone thinking it was a good idea? That seems off too. France is a post-Christian nation. 50% of their population would say at the very least the Christian story is important to them if not scared. And let’s not forget the French Revolution happened there so equality is a really, really big deal. Combine this love of the Christian faith and hate of any abuse of power and it seems incomprehensible that not one of the thousands of French hands that touched the opening ceremony would have raised concerns…?
Thirdly, there is a reason why Woolworths’ pre-made food lacks a soul. Personality is out of place when you are trying to appeal to such a broad range of people. Every big brand knows this. Niche brands have all the fun. It is a homogeneous environment. But that is not the Olympics. It is arguably the biggest, most diverse brand in the world. Poor taste or being edgy is just not an option for them.
This brings us finally to option four. Conspiracy theories are just not my thing. Honestly. I’m just not the guy who gets off on if Biden is actually alive or not, or if Hollywood is controlled by the Illuminati. That being said a bearded Jesus dressed in a crop top and mini-skirt gyrating in front of a child on the world’s biggest stage is a zeitgeist of either wonderful complexity or profound simplicity. Put Occam’s Razor to work and it points us to the latter. And that is scary. It seems an agenda influenced the games.
Commenting on that agenda would be fruitless for me following the logic of how we started. Not to mention that is grossly beyond the scope of my understanding. But highlighting the power of stories is something I have dedicated my life to understand and I think it is a space I am gaining increasing credibility. With that in mind a week ago I released a piece on the power of stories. It claimed stories are like sex in that they involve a deeply intimate joining of minds. It showed that stories are used as spies to achieve agenda and referenced Noam Chompsky Manufacturing Consent. And what got me most excited is the idea that stories change the way we think.
It is a dark reality to wake up to. One where things with lots and lots of power are using stories to shape the way we think. Most of the time I hide my head from it; my tired wife, screaming toddler and beautiful baby girl make that easy and pleasant. But then there are moments like this where hands pierce the vale and I get a renewed sense of urgency that my neat little life does not exist in the suburban bubble I would like to believe.
I am glad that I have now stopped chasing down boogeymen that make me afraid though. I’m learning rather the peace in submission to true power. One that remembers the ultimate freedom is control of ourselves and not others. And on my best, best day that is still so very hard.
So maybe the Games were used as a Trojan Horse to deliver little spies into all our lives. I’m not going to condemn that because I don’t understand it. What I do understand with reverence is the power of stories and thankfully I can control the stories that come into my ears and eyes and more importantly the ones that come of our hearts and mouths; and that is very, very cool indeed.
