Letter from Europe | Sport, Spectacle, and Spirit
A letter by the Rt. Rev. Mark D. W. Edington
The world is coming to Paris. The opening ceremonies of the Olympics—formally, the Games of the XXXIII Olympiad (you know it’s important from the Roman numerals) — will take place along the Seine here this evening. Over the past week, circulation in the city has been slowly strangled by the intensifying security cordon along the river.
Some 10,500 athletes will compete in the Olympics, with another 4,400 expected to compete in the Paralympic Games. Teams from 204 countries will glide down the Seine in a flotilla from east to west, ending at the Trocadero opposite the Eiffel Tower. It will be a spectacle unlike any other in Olympic history. The city is waiting with bated breath in the hopes that it all comes off safely.
Joining the national teams will be a group of thirty-seven athletes who have Refugee status, competing under the five-ringed flag of the Olympic movement. They will be representing the world’s 117 million forcibly displaced people — what would be the twelfth-largest nation by population on the earth, if they were gathered into one country. Another group of athletes, largely from Russia and Belarus, will be competing as “individual neutral athletes” under no flag. Their nations have been disqualified for violating the Olympic Truce — an ancient idea brought back by the modern games in 1992, with an idealism worthy of the Beatitudes.
Upwards of fifteen million tourists — most of them from within France, but at least two million from other countries — are expected to come to Paris during the two competitions. Most of them will not have tickets to any of the events, and will simply be in the city to soak up the spirit of the Games. The restauranteurs and hoteliers are no doubt eagerly anticipating them. The residents, however, perhaps not so much.
Athletic excellence is one of the few things that have the power to captivate, inspire, and unite all the world’s humanity. There is a considerable literature on athletic competition, especially in team sports, as a vicarious—and less violent—form of international competition. More recent scholars have explored sports—and particularly the Olympics—as a form of civic religion. But watching the extreme achievements of individual athletes — often competing in sports for which the Olympics is really the only showcase — somehow elevates us. We are caught up in sheer amazement at the possibility of human achievement.
At a moment when the very essence of what it means to be human seems subject to the encroachments of artificial intelligence, the Olympics represent a touchstone of something undeniably, gloriously human. Maybe the ethos of the competition — not “win at any cost” but “win within the rules” — seems less a virtuous ideal than a vestigial relic of an age when virtue seemed a part of human aspiration.
Still, we watch, enthralled. The victors will exult, the vanquished will weep, and we will all be simultaneously humbled and lifted up by the sheer majesty of the athletic accomplishments humans can achieve.
And those, of course, are spiritual realities.
Perhaps unsurprisingly for a global event hosted in the French Republic, the organizers of the Games have not exactly been eager to welcome a religious presence among the athletes. There is a chaplaincy presence provided in the Olympic Village, yes, although those who have made it through the strict vetting process operate under some pretty stringent limitations. Spiritual reflection is not an event of interest to the Paris organizers.
But of course the life of faith is well acquainted with the parallels between physical and spiritual athleticism. The most familiar reflections on athletic skill found in scripture come from Paul’s First Letter to the Corinthians, images drawn from athletic contests in the ancient world: a footrace, and a wreath crowning the victor’s head. Paul uses the metaphor of a race to describe his own ministry in the second letter to Timothy; that image is made one encompassing all those on the marathon of faith in the letter to the Hebrews.
The willingness to accept a discipline of life, the faithful engagement in a regimen of practice, the resilience to overcome setbacks and press on despite disappointment — these are equally the guideposts of the athlete and the disciple. And, similarly, true spiritual athletes are rare indeed; we are more in the daily run or occasional hike category, or — unhealthfully for our souls—spectators in the bleachers.
As this momentary gathering of the world’s finest athletes begins here, I hope you will feel invited to reconnect with our capacity for wonder and our delight in the profound gifts of soul and strength that God has given us — and taken part in with us, incarnate in Jesus. And I hope this time out of time, a peaceful gathering of humanity from all corners of the globe, will remind us not just of our capacity for achievement, but our interdependence as one humanity, each equally precious in the love of God.
See you in church,
