The Bacchanal and the Communion Table

Why look for life where there is no life at all.

As the Western world chokes on its own decadence, the drag-queen spectacle at the Paris Olympics was its fitting representation. The surprising thing would have been if nothing like this had happened, if we could have had some public spectacle without a celebration of the libertine sexual ethic that has come into full bloom in the early twenty-first appearance made many particularly angry since it resembled a mockery of the Last Supper.

A number of social media posts, however, insisted that the drag-queen display was not meant to represent the Last Supper, but a bacchanal—a celebration of the god Bacchus, or, as he is called in Greek, Dionysus. Bacchus/Dionysus is the god of wine and things associated with wine, such as vegetation and festivity. He was also associated with ecstasy, madness, and frenzy. A bacchanal was a frenzied, orgiastic party, a celebration of hedonism.

Forgive me, then, if I’m not reassured by the claim that what we saw at the Paris Olympics was only a representation of a pagan orgy.

That said, it really doesn’t have to be one or the other. In many ways, a bacchanal is the antithesis of the Eucharist. Both are celebrations at the table, though their meanings could not be more different. One is a celebration of pleasure, the other a representation of Christ’s suffering. One is about hedonism, the other about self-sacrifice. One is an adventure in lust and gluttony, the other the embodiment of self-giving love. One glorifies the flesh, one crucifies the flesh. One binds us to the enemy of our souls, the other to their creator and redeemer. Whether we witnessed an intentional mockery of the Last Supper or a bacchanal really doesn’t make much difference. The meaning is largely the same.

Now come the snickering denials and evasions from those responsible for the scandalous display. As reported in Forbes, “Anne Descamps, a spokesperson for the Paris games, told reporters on Sunday there was ‘never an intention to show disrespect to any religious group’ and Thomas Jolly, creative director of the opening ceremony, instead hoped to ‘celebrate community tolerance,’ according to multiple news outlets.”

Yeah… no. You reenacted the Last Supper with drag queens in a scene reminiscent of a celebration of the Greek god of frat parties. It is simply inconceivable that someone didn’t say, Hey… This celebration of debauchery is a great idea and all… but do you think it might offend Christians? Of course they knew it would offend Christians. A jellyfish would know it would offend Christians. In fact, I don’t know how anyone could suggest with a straight face that wasn’t at least part of its intent.

Contempt for Christianity, however, is nothing new. Early Christians were accused of all kinds of things, from atheism to incest to cannibalism. One especially sophomoric rebuke of Christians is a cartoon (technically a graffito) that was inscribed into plaster sometime around the early third century on the Palatine Hill in Rome. It depicts a man named Alexamenos worshiping a crucified figure with the head of an ass. An inscription reads, “Alexamenos worships his god.” Below is an image of the graffito, followed by a drawing that clarifies its depiction.

People have always found Christianity distasteful. Do we expect that they will no longer do so? Just as in the early days of the faith, Christianity now finds little favor among the upper echelons of society, who prefer the bacchanal to the communion table. The foolishness of the crucified God, the odious renunciation of self, the repellent call not to be served but to serve, the submission of the flesh in union with Christ as a holy and living sacrifice—these are repugnant to those who consider themselves self-made and revel in the will to power.

Paul taught us, “God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, things that are not, to reduce to nothing things that are” (1 Cor 1:27-28). Now that the social restraints of Christendom have disintegrated, we should expect more of what took place in Paris. Christianity, lived in its fullness, is an offense. There is a reason that the early Christians were accused of “turning the world upside down” (Acts 17:6). Likewise there is a reason Christ taught us, “Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you” (Matt 5:11-12). None of this is surprising to Jesus.

Whenever we look upon the darkness of this world, we should sense again the urgency of evangelism. God calls us to invite people into this upside-down kingdom we inhabit. He calls us to lead them from the bacchanal to the communion table, to demonstrate the truth, goodness, and beauty of the Gospel. The bacchanal is undoubtedly fun for a time, but there is no life there. To paraphrase Augustine, it is part of the human condition to look for life in a land of death. But as Peter said to Jesus when many had left scandalized, “You have the words of eternal life” (John 6:68). So he does. And thus so do we.

THE VIEWS OF SUBMITTED EDITORIALS MAY NOT BE THE EXPRESS VIEWS OF THE ALABAMA GAZETTE.