On Mocking Jesus

And the Death Throes of Christendom

The perceived parody of da Vinci's The Last Supper—and by extension, the mockery of Christianity—during the opening ceremonies of the 2024 Olympics has generated a flood of responses from Christians.

The prevailing mood among the media-savvy institutional guardians is indignation and outrage. French Catholic leadership called out the “scenes of derision and mockery of Christianity, which we deeply deplore” (Vatican News). Many other pundits, Christians and other conservative defenders of so-called Western values, followed suit.

Quickly, the tableau’s organizers denied that it was meant to represent da Vinci's painting or to mock anyone in any way. “‘The idea was to have a pagan celebration connected to the gods of Olympus. You will never find in me a desire to mock and denigrate anyone,’ said the ceremony's artistic director, Thomas Jolly. ‘The idea was to create a big pagan party in link with the God of Mount Olympus’” (USA Today). More cool-tempered Christian commentators took this claim to heart and pointed out that other historical paintings portray the Greek gods at table in like fashion, such as Jan van Bijlert’s “Feast of the Gods.” (Never mind whether such works are parodies of da Vinci’s masterpiece.)

Then came the Christian commentators who pointed out the biblical predictions of derision and persecution. Why should we expect anything else, they ask?

This was my initial thought, too. I intended to start this post with reference to the Alexamenos graffito, a piece of ancient graffiti that many identify as the earliest known depiction of Jesus. It is an image scratched childishly into plaster around AD 200 depicting a man worshiping Jesus on the cross. Jesus has a donkey head. The accompanying inscription says, “Alexamenos worships [his] God.” A couple of hours after I started writing, a post making this connection came across my social media. I’m not surprised; it’s an obvious one.

This is only a point of departure, however. The deeper question is what the Christian reactions to the incident represent. Few seem to recognize that we are witnessing the slow death throes of Christendom in real-time. It is important for the Western church to grasp what is happening.

Let me emphasize that it doesn’t matter what the organizers’ intention was. It doesn’t matter whether the perception of mockery is baseless. The only question that matters is what the reaction signifies.

The Meaning of Christian Indignation

Why are so many Christians upset? (I’m leaving aside other commentators whose outrage is, in my view, irrelevant.) No doubt, the highly charged debates surrounding LGBTQ+ issues are amplifying the reaction. But let’s take commentators at their word. The objection sounds something like, “Christianity deserves respect, and the venerable tradition of Western Christian art should not be mocked. How dare they?”

More specifically, many have decried the injustice of discrimination against Christianity. No one would tolerate such mockery of other religions, they assert. Christianity is the only religion subject to such derision.

Perhaps this is so. Perhaps the global dominance of Western cultures, with Christianity as an adjunct, makes it a unique target. Perhaps postcolonialism gives rise to a different treatment of Christian representation. Perhaps.

Regardless, Christians who express such indignation reveal just how much they are clinging to a position of social privilege—a position owed respect. They seem to think they live in a world in which Christianity should be addressed with solemn regard for its status as a religion. The issue isn’t simply that they’ve ignored the New Testament’s expectation that the church would share in Jesus’s humiliation and ridicule. It’s that Christendom is a place where the church’s cultural dominance protects it from such indignity—a place where the Olympics couldn’t possibly play host to the ridicule of Christian tradition—and they haven’t realized that world is already dead.

A few features of these old-world expectations are interesting. One is their global scope. Christians may not be shocked by a local or personal display of derision for Christianity. But on the global stage of the Olympics, the expectation is clearly that Christianity is due respect. This is the scale of Christendom’s hubris: individuals may do as they like, but when the eyes of the nations are watching, Christendom’s representatives (including its art) demand deferential engagement.

Second is the nature of that demand. The public outcry is an exercise of power meant to quell Christianity’s critics, elicit apologies, and enforce respect. The exercise of this power is not merely verbal, as though the point were to win an argument or register a majority vote; it is economic. It involves boycotts, sponsorships, firings, and the like. It is hard to imagine the early church taking to city fora to insist that Christianity was owed respect, much less to whip up the protection of powerful economic allies. In the imaginations of some, no doubt, this would have been preferable to derision and persecution if it were an option. My point is that if it were an option, it is far-fetched to think Christians would have used it. It is a patently Christendom imagination that, given the option to dominate, chooses to do so.

Third is the modern democratic notion of religious tolerance in evidence. Granting that modern Western democracies are largely a product of Christendom (and without comment about the virtue of this development), it goes without saying that religious tolerance is proper to Christendom. The claim that the ridicule of Christian tradition is unfair because other religions aren’t likewise ridiculed demonstrates the degree to which the presumption of Christendom is at work in this scandal. To be clear, I’m not saying that religious tolerance is bad. I have no problem extolling the benefits that Christendom produced or contributed to in modern Western societies. I’m pointing out, rather, that the belief Christianity should be protected by religious tolerance in a global venue, no less, pertains to a mentality that has not reconned with Christendom’s demise. The church is no longer in a position to expect, much less demand, respect from the (literal) world.

As for the other pundits who object, it’s worth noting that many of them have argued for freedom of expression in connection with the caricature of Mohammed. Muslims, they argue, may be offended, but Western journalists, comedians, and artists have the right to make fun of any religion. That’s a hypocrisy worth highlighting, even if it’s external to the church’s concerns.

A final point I would emphasize is that there is a gross humorlessness in the indignation on display, which belies the defensiveness and insecurity that post-Christendom naturally produces in many. We may solemnly (and rightly!) preach that the wisdom of God is foolishness to the world (see 1 Cor 1:18–2:16), but we needn’t deny the humor of the ass-headed Christ on the cross. We’re allowed to laugh at and rejoice in the absurdity of it. If we can’t see the humor in the folly of Christ’s table, especially in view of Christendom’s failures to be as inclusive as Jesus was—if we can’t see that we too deserve to be mocked for our foolishness, in ways that the mockers don’t even understand—then the wisdom of God yet escapes us.

The Meaning of Pagan Revelry

This moment is especially revelatory. Its symbolism is profound. It speaks to the death of Christendom with astonishing clarity.

What none of the complainants seem to be paying attention to is the stated intention of the event organizers: “The idea was to have a pagan celebration connected to the gods of Olympus. . . . The idea was to create a big pagan party in link with the God of Mount Olympus” (USA Today). How fitting for the Olympics, which is not a modern Western tradition but an ancient Greek one. Offended Christians are evidently oblivious to the significance of this gesture. The Olympics is no longer an expression of Christendom’s global reach. The paganism of ancient Olympia is on the rise, in new forms to be sure, as the tableau of Dionysus’s table indicates. But the halcyon days of Christendom’s dominance are done. The outcry is nothing more than death throes.

For those who don’t want to go down without a fight, let me say this: don’t let the history of Christendom corrupt your understanding of the fight. Followers of Jesus don’t play by the rules others set. We’re not in pursuit of power, dominance, tolerance, or respect. Our battle is cruciform. We have only to ask what the cross of Christ teaches us about how to respond to the exercise of worldly power. Foolish and weak as it may seem, the cross is the wisdom and power of God.

So we must ask ourselves, how do we play with pagans? Which gold medal—which laurel wreath—do we seek? (see 1 Cor 9:24–27). How do we compete on the world stage? As far as I’m concerned, the Christian outcry about the opening ceremony of the 2024 Olympics is a betrayal of Christian witness. It’s simply playing the wrong game.

Some Recommendations

1. Get over yourself. After all, your self has been crucified with Christ.

2. Find a sense of humor. The God who created comedy can appreciate parody. Can you?

3. Let go of Christendom’s power. Coercion and dominance have no place in Christian witness.

4. Expect ridicule. Any depiction of Christ that doesn’t look foolish to the world probably needs more of the biblical Jesus in it.

5. Respond with the fruit of the Spirit. Patience, gentleness, and self-control are particularly good standards for judging our reactions.