THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS

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It may be that the tableau with the drag queens is not blasphemous, but none the less, but whatever happened to aesthetics?” my friend threw up her hands and winced in disgust.

Of course, we were discussing the infamous (and depending on your own perspective) re-enactment, or parody of the Last Supper at the Paris Olympics. Some have pointed out that the tableau had in fact nothing to do with the Last Supper and rather, was an attempt to re-enact a particularly obscure painting by equally obscure Dutch Golden Age painter, Jan Harmensz van Biljert, entitled “Feast of the Gods,” which depicts the gods of Olympus celebrating the marriage of Thetis and Peleus. Accordingly, at the centre of the table, is the crowned Apollo, and. Bacchus-Dionysos died blue in the Parisian version, lies in the foreground in the hope we will confuse Biljert with Da Vinci, which quite possibly, is exactly the look Biljert was going for.

Leaving aside for the moment that van Biljert was Dutch and never set foot in France, if the Paris Olympic Opening ceremony organisers truly sought to bring Biljert’s painting to life, rather than the Da Vinci’s Last Supper, then we cannot but smirk with grim irony at any protestations of innocence or blissful ignorance on their part. After all the marriage of Thetis and Peleus was a singular event that brought about a cataclysmic conflict. The Olympians forgot to invite the goddess of discord Eris, she of the golden apples, to the feast, just as the Parisians also forgot to invite certain nations that allegedly are quite adept at spreading misinformation and discord to the Games and what followed was a proverbial faeces-tempest, in the form of the Trojan War. How do you like them Pink Ladies, indeed and we can be forgiven for thinking that this dichotomy between strife, war and brutality and the lofty pre-packaged sentiments of friendly competition, tasteful advertising and sponsorship and of course, the never-achieved Olympic Truce, which of all global public leaders only Patriarch Bartholomew referenced this year, is what was aimed at all along. The provocation, is included in the package, at no extra cost.

This certainly does not ameliorate the affront to the religious sensitivities of many in our community who have expressed deep anger at the manner in which the Olympians were portrayed, notably the Papa-Smurf like drunken god Dionysus, who made a cameo appearance in a particular virulent shade of blue, suggestive of a late-night bender where the only liquor left available was Curaçao, with many perceiving the tableau as an act of disrespect against the ancient Greeks, whether historical or mythological and by extension to the modern Greeks, wherever situate. Naturally, this is to be expected in a people whose ancestor worship forms a main component of their national identity. Whether it is in rendering the ancient philosophers in iconographic form as in the narthexes of such monasteries as those of Philanthropinon in Ioannina and thus co-opting them into the prevailing religious practices of the day, or even in seeing the ancients, their deeds and beliefs as the pinnacle of perfection which can never be surpassed, as gatekeepers of those paragons of perfection, any slight upon them is a slight upon us and an elaborate and intricate array of acceptable rubrics and rituals have been developed over the millenia which prescribe exhaustively how they must be portrayed or considered, if their ghosts are to be propitiated and which will brook no alternative let alone countenance disparagement of any kind.

These in turn, are the ‘aesthetics’ that we now lament at having been compromised, expressing bewilderment as to how this could have happened. Does not “our” “civilisation” form the basis of “theirs?” Is it not superior in every respect and then by its very nature, entirely sacrosanct? Who gives them the right to depart from the prescribed script? Is this a deliberate and calculated insult against the Greeks? Considering that the Paris 2024 Olympic Medal displays images of two of Greece’s architectural marvels: on the left, the Parthenon and on the right, the tower of Filiatra, this is highly doubtful. The organisers of course, in the face of the Trojan War of anger that has ensued, in apologising have mumbled something about inclusion and celebrating community tolerance. But they are not giving back Helen (in drag or otherwise) back to the Spartans. Far from it.

This is exactly why, as distasteful as the drag queen parody of the Last Supper may have been, as confronting as it may be to see one’s Saviour mocked and disrespected, beyond the outrage and offence, in making us all uncomfortable, the organisers and participants in the Paris Olympics Opening Ceremony actually taught us a valuable lesson: The ideologies we pay lip-service to, the doctrines we purportedly uphold, the icons we make a great show of venerating, all these things we hold sacred and holy are cheapened, corrupted and made rotten when we betray them by our conduct, our hypocrisy, our duplicity. The Last Supper is a fitting example of exactly this: Jesus brought His Apostles together in a meal of Love, instituting Communion which in the Christian religion is the most supreme act of all joining as one, and this very act was betrayed.

Viewed from this perspective, the drag queens, whether consciously or otherwise, even in the likely event that they sought to provoke, pillory or offend, are sending us the message that we are the ones that have become perverted, that while we come together in one of the most “civilised” countries of the world, vociferously espousing lofty ideals and smugly celebrating the superiority of our way of life and supposed cultural heritage, having spent millions to train humans to run a little faster in the hope that this will redound to the greater glory of our nation or ethnos, rewarding physical strength rather than nobility of character or kindness and selflessness, while we make pious noises about the brotherhood of all mankind, the bombs our genius has invented are killing children in parts of the world we do not really care about, the economies we have created are causing widespread starvation, poverty, disease, disadvantage and misery and in the suburbs of our “civilised” cities, women are still being murdered.

How dare we have the temerity to celebrate ourselves and our so-called achievements, the forthright drag queens seem to be telling us through their derision. How dare we cry blasphemy when our entire way of life is antithetical to the teachings of those we claim we follow, raising our voices, not in the face of injustice but only, when we have lost face? Look upon us, they seem to jeer, and see yourselves not in the founder of your faith, but rather in the way in which you comport yourselves. As the mythological Olympians of old, as the drunken Dionysus, we indulge our desires to the fullest: we gorge and puke, wallow in the self-assured surety of our privilege and power, dispute and quarrel, revel and rage, oblivious or insensitive to the impact our actions have on those less fortunate than us, until we are blue in the face. No wonder then, that Eris chose to manifest herself once more, uninvited, at our feast.

According to one theory, the word Olympian is comprised of the components: οὐ λύμα and πούς meaning ‘pure foot’, conforming to the poet Hesiod’s description of the earth as a type of footstool for heaven up from which rise the “Blessed Gods.” The unfortunate iconoclastic caricature of the Last Supper compels us, in the manner of the Pauline epistle to the Corinthians, to confront “what is foolish in the world to shame the wise,” and consider that rather than taking pride in believing we have reached the summit of all that is sublime, we have in fact, a very long way to go.

DEAN KALIMNIOU

kalymnios@hotmail.com

First published in NKEE on Saturday 3 August 2024