The modern west, and certainly the United States, has a weird relationship with sports. Many reasons exist for this, including the fact that sports involve great skill and entertain us. One key to their hold on us, however, certainly involves the fact that our culture has no communal rituals and emotions. Politics remains too divisive and negative to provide this. Democracy tends to prioritize individual vis a vis the group. Most forms of American Protestantism have no liturgies and no “physicality” to provide the necessary framework for shared experiences. Sporting events can provide this. Many fans have pre-game routines, rituals, dress–“liturgies,” in effect. These routines come with the eating of certain foods, and so on.
All this to say, sports functions much more like a religion than many of our churches–at least in terms of visible manifestations. Perhaps too, this explains the growth of round-the-clock, all year coverage of seasonal sports. Our need for communal “religious” experience overpowers even our well-founded moral concerns about certain sports such as football.
Because non-liturgical Protestants formed the ethos of America many of us have little experience with religious communal celebrations. Often they involve parades, food, music, and a physical embodiment of a particular belief or historical event. Below, for example, is footage from the festival on the Greek island of Cephalonia, where the relics of St. Gerasimos reside. On the saint’s feast day, one such embodiment happens when the body of St. Gerasimos “passes over” the town.
The French Revolution sought to transform all of French society. To do so, the revolutionary leaders recognized that they needed to eliminate Catholicism from the hearts and minds of the people–easier said then done. The church dictated the calendar and its rhythms, with a proliferation of festivals. These festivals formed the habits, which formed the hearts, of the French.
They needed new festivals to replace the traditional Catholic celebrations. Mona Azouf takes up this oft-neglected topic in her book, Festivals of the French Revolution.
I believe Jaroslav Pelikan made the observation that Christian feasts all celebrate events that happened in observable time. We celebrate the Incarnation, resurrection, and ascension of Christ. We have days for remembering the Mother of God and saints of whose lives we have a record. The only obvious exception to this is Trinity Sunday. But the Trinitarian nature of God is not an abstract concept, but the concrete–though also mysterious–reality of the Universe. Celebrations of actual things can have a “natural” atmosphere about them.
We can envision a joyous party for a team when they win the championship. But what about a team that, during the season itself, had a banquet to celebrate “Victory”? Things might get awkward quickly.
This challenge confronted France’s revolutionary leadership. If they wanted wholesale change, then everything old would have to go. They eliminated a great deal of the previous political leadership. They transformed the military. They killed or exiled many recalcitrant aristocrats. They went farther than almost any other revolutionary group I know of and literally changed the calendar. They understood that the Gregorian calendar, despite its mainly pagan roots, had been thoroughly Christianized and formed the unconscious rhythms of daily French life. Some argued that the new France needed no celebrations. Now that they had banished oppression, each day would have a moderate and joyous character. But eventually even the die-hards realized that they needed to give the people holy-days (i.e. holidays) to create a new national liturgy.
The festivals for the new calendar attempted to change the concept of time. They also attempted to alter the concept of space. Most old Catholic festivals took place in the town near the church. This meant that the majority of events happened within view of the cathedrals (always the tallest buildings) and in the town streets. Of course having the church building silently governing the festival would not do. But the narrow streets and the inevitable buying and selling of goods in the market, conjured up thoughts of secrecy, narrowness, “feudal conspiracy,” and the like. Festivals of the Revolution often took place in wide fields away from towns and cities. There they could escape the church building, and the open fields also aided their ideology of equality. In addition the French Revolution’s obsession with “Nature” had its role to play. Everything seems new and promising in a lush meadow at springtime.
So far so good. Here is one contemporary description of the “Festival of Liberty:”
The procession began late, around noon; it was not that the people were made to wait, as by despots at court festivals. The people turned up at daybreak in large numbers . . . but all waited until all had arrived. They took pleasure in each other’s company; nonetheless it was time to leave.
On the site of the Bastille an inauguration of the Statue of Liberty was held. Here more gathered, and it should be noted, they were favored with perfect weather.
There was no excess of pomp; no gold dazzled the eye or insulted the citizens’ humble and honorable poverty. No soldiers dripping with braid came to cast a condescending eye on the poorly dressed crowd as they passed. Here actors and witnesses merged, each taking part in the procession. They had little order but a good deal accord with one another. No one indulged in the vanity of the haughty gaze, no one set out to be a spectacle. Boredom, that son of uniformity, found no foothold among the various groups; at each step the scene changed–everyone wanted a part in the Festival of Liberty.
The festival banished luxury, but notable commemorative objects had their role. The procession opened with the Declaration of the Rights of Man, written on two stone tablets such as the 10 Commandments, though that is no match for the Declaration. Four citizens proudly carried this noble burden, each reading aloud those immeasurable first lines: “Men are born free and remain free and equal.”
Four busts followed in like manner. “Ah, there is Voltaire, that old rascal who made us laugh so much at the priests. That other, worried looking individual [Roussaeu] loved the nobles even less and never sought their favor. Who is the third? It is an Englishman, Sydney, who put his head on the block rather than bend a knee to a king. That old man there, we know him well. It is Franklin, who can be more rightly called the Liberator of the New World than a certain fop who lives not far from here [i.e. Louis XVI].
The two coffins that followed threw a somber coloring over events as we remembered the martyrs of the massacre at Nancy [some soldiers refused to obey their royalist leaning officers and were shot].
Preceded by their chains, suspended from trophies and born aloft by young ladies dressed in white, marched our loyal soldiers [loyal to the Revolution that is], with several regular citizen volunteers. They in turn preceded the Chariot of Liberty, which used the same wheels as the chariot that served for the enshrinement of Voltaire at the Palace of Reason. Let us not forget that philosophy gave us Liberty.
The chariot, modeled on the antique, was of imposing construction. On one side David sketched the story of Brutus the Elder of Rome, himself sentencing his royalist sons to death for their disobedience to the law. On the other he depicted William Tell, aiming a javelin, the target of which was an apple on his own son’s head. But at his feet we spy another javelin, one that gave independence to Switzerland by slaying the Governor of Austria. The Lady of Liberty rests on her throne, her hand at her side holding a club, with a gaze that would make king’s blush. We should never forget that the sceptre of liberty is a bludgeon to her enemies. It should also be said that six daggers formed the prow of the front of the chariot to threaten any despotism bold enough to impede the march of liberty.
With steady steps 20 democratic horses drew the chariot of the sovereign of the French people. Their progress had none of the insolence of those idle coursers fed at the stables in Versailles. They did not hold their heads high; their manes had no gold plait, nor were there plumes adorned. They walked rather ploddingly, but they kept a steady course.
Four hundred thousand citizens came to one spot with nary a mishap. The soldiers on foot had no need to mark the route, none had need to go before the crowds with bayonettes to make way. Words of peace contained this multitude, it fell into line at the sight of an ear of corn presented to it rather than a musket.
Even a breezy reading of this account reveals that the new foundation was not close to drying.
How do celebrate with the threat of force lingering? We know of the many imprisonments and beheadings in general, but even here, “Lady Liberty” holds a club. Brutus kills his sons. The chariot has daggers in the front, and so on. I have some sympathy . . . the only way to completely turn your country 180 degrees is by wrenching the wheel and holding on for dear life. The question, remains, however . . . how much can you celebrate when you have the sword of Damocles hanging over your head?
A big difference exists between saying, “Everybody dance now!” and, “Everybody dance now.”
No particular rhyme or reason exists for how the festival looks and proceeds. Certain decisions will have to be arbitrary on some level of course. Perhaps we understand, for example, that “democratic horses” would move “ploddingly” at a “steady” pace. But what if the choreographer had the horses hold their heads high and gallop down the causeway to show the “energy of liberty”? Would that have been “democratic”. . . or “aristocratic?”
Many such confusions and differences in perception led to imprisonments and even death during the Reign of Terror.
Ultimately Azouf argues that the festivals served not as an emblem of the Revolution’s success but it’s failure. One cannot invent out of thin air an embodiment of abstract ideals and expect everyone to go along with it. Azouf herself comments that the revolution in general, and the festivals in particular, represented France’s attempt to reject the entirety of their history–tantamount to rejection of their very selves. No one can sustain such efforts for long.
And yet . . . while the king eventually came back to France it did not take long to banish him again. The cultural victory of the French Revolution’s de-sacralization campaign (which, as Azouf points out, involved “sacralizing” different values) took a long time, but France’s subsequent history shows that the revolutionaries won the political battle.
We too have a similar inheritance as the French, having undergone our own radical break from the past at much the same time. We in time developed some national festivals (the World Series, the Super Bowl, the 4th of July, Thanksgiving, etc.). Time will tell whether or not this age of atomized individualism will wash those away. If so, Azouf’s work testifies to the fact that at our core we need such celebrations, and even atomized individuals will find a way to create new festivals.