The French Revolution casts a long shadow. It seems the generational guilt in casting off the ‘shackles’ of the Church, which entailed also the rejection of the moral law and of God Himself, has yet to be exorcised from France. Like Lady Macbeth, they wash their hands in fruitless ways, like trying to clean oneself in the sewer that is the Seine (I still can scarcely believe they have athletes swimming in it. I once walked for miles along the edge of the ‘river’, and the thought of diving in did not cross my mind. Have they no pools in France?). Hence, the images from the opening ceremonies, listed in Andrew Caruk’s recent post, are but the flesh-tattered ghosts come back to haunt a seared and unshriven national conscience. To paraphrase Pope Saint John Paul II, ‘France, become what you are!’. And what France really is, is the eldest daughter of the Church. We are either for Christ, or against Him. May France repent, before it is too late.
The same God does give signs. Right after the rain-drenched ‘ceremonies’, Paris was plunged into darkness – some odd power outage – but the lights of Sacré-Cœur Basilica on top of Montmartre kept shining, for some reason yet unexplained. The basilica had been built for the purpose of making reparation for sins against the Sacred Heart, and there has been perpetual adoration since 1885, decades before its final completion in 1914 and its consecration in 1919. Those continual prayers were needed during the World War(s), and they’re perhaps even more needed now.
Readers may peruse my thoughts on the modern Olympics and professional sports in general, which are good in themselves and as far as they go, but have become a quasi-religion for so many. Recent events, ergo, do not offer much surprise. There’s no sitting still in this pilgrimage of life – just as we are for or against Christ, so too we either trod the road to heaven or to hell. There is a fine line between seeking excellence and virtue in sports, all in the right order, and turning them into an idol, with the whole pagan ‘cult of the body’, of which the Catechism warns. It may be no surprise that few seem to be watching, or attending. (Do they still even have ‘women’s’ events, with the transgender travesty?) This may be the fin de siècle of the modern Olympics, to be revived someday in a way that restores all things in Christ. For only in Him is true excellence to be found.
So, semper altius!