Chairman Gioia makes NEA work

Tradition tells us that baseball is the national pastime. Economics tells us that it’s pro football. Casual conversation makes it clear that the America’s favorite sport is complaining about government. Herewith, then, something counterintuitive: an encomium to government, indeed to the federal government, in fact to a typically controversial part of the federal government — the National Endowment for the Arts (NEA) which, thanks to its current chairman, the poet Dana Gioia, is actually spending your money on culturally important projects.

It wasn’t always that way. Remember Karen Finley, the “performance artist” and NEA grantee, whose “art” consisted of smearing her naked body with chocolate and then sprinkling herself with bean spouts? There’s been none of that sort of self-indulgent rubbish on Dana Gioia’s watch. Instead, to take a first example, there’s been Shakespeare.

Under Gioia’s leadership, NEA created the “Shakespeare in American Communities” program, which has brought twenty-two of the Bard’s plays to more than a half-million Americans in over 2,000 performances — and not in major cities, but to small towns, rural areas, and military bases. It’s been the largest Shakespeare tour in American history, involving seven professional theater companies, and it’s touched down in all fifty states. The last is a reflection of Dana Gioia’s political smarts: Members of Congress from sea to shining sea know that their constituents are being served by the NEA. More importantly, though, “Shakespeare in American Communities” is an expression of Chairman Gioia’s populism, which is of the very best kind: he believes the American people are eager for something more than “American Idol” and “Die Hard XLIV” (or whatever number we’re on).

The military has been a special concern of Gioia’s: fittingly enough, as his service as NEA chairman has coincided with both the Afghanistan and Iraq Wars. NEA’s “Great American Voices Tour” has taken professional performances of Broadway music (“South Pacific”) and classical opera (“Carmen” and “Don Giovanni”) into thirty-nine Army, Navy, Marine Corps, and Air Force bases around America. The artists and musicians involved also visit local schools and conduct pre-concert seminars to help their audiences appreciate the nuances of these different musical forms.

Then there’s “Poetry Out Loud,” a project close to the heart of Dana Gioia, one of America’s most distinguished poets. I confess that, when I hear rap “music,” I hear vulgar chaos; Dana Gioia’s poet’s ear heard a longing for a return to oral recitation, so he launched an NEA program that encourages kids across America to learn serious poetry by heart, and then learn how to recite it publicly in a compelling way. Tens of thousands of students across the United States have participated in this project, co-sponsored by the state arts endowments and the Poetry Foundation — and in doing so have gained in self-confidence, learned their own literary heritage, and developed impressive public speaking skills.

“The Big Read” is even more ambitious: this Gioia initiative aims at nothing less that restoring reading — and reading serious fiction at that — to the center of our national cultural life. More than one hundred communities are participating in “The Big Read” this year, reading American classics ranging from Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451 to Willa Cather’s My Antonia to Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird. In partnership with corporations and private foundations, participants use well-prepared study materials to get inside an author’s head, and are given the opportunity to attend lectures and seminars that help restore the idea of reading great literature as an adventure as well as a pleasure.

Although it’s constitutionally irrelevant, it’s no accident that these ambitious programs have been led by an NEA chairman who is a very serious Catholic, and who believes that the world, created through the Word, is unveiled in all its mystery and beauty through the mediation of words. Dana Gioia knows that ours is a sacramental world, in which the extraordinary lies just on the far side of the ordinary. And he knows that great art, in its many forms, helps up through that permeable border and into the realm of transcendent truth — and love.

That’s why he’s the best chairman NEA has ever had.

COMING UP: Did Christians ban the Games? Tales, myths and other fun facts about the ancient Olympics

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The 2020 Summer Olympics began less than a week ago, and as is usually the case, there’s been enough stunning athleticism, shocking upsets and yes, even a little bit of drama on display to keep the water cooler chatter abuzz until at least the 2022 games.

At their best, the Olympic games bridge cultural divides and unite countries around the world as the greatest living athletes around the globe compete for the coveted gold medal in their respective events. There’s a spirit of global camaraderie that welcomely comes about during every Olympiad; whether watching the Games at home with the family or going to a local bar to cheer on your favorite country, the Olympics bring people together in a way that most other sporting events do not.

Another astounding thing about the Olympics is how they’ve endured over the millennia. Indeed, they provide a special glimpse into the history of the world and those common qualities of humanity that will never die; namely, the need for both unitive, universal community and friendly but fierce competition.

The first recorded Olympic games took place in 776 B.C., though some historians speculate that they could have began as early as the 10th century B.C. The games were held every four years in Olympia to honor the greek god Zeus as one of four Panhellenic festivals, this one coinciding with the second full moon following the summer solstice, usually at the end of July or early August. The Olympics became so significant that the term Olympiad was used to mark a year the games took place, and became a common unit of historical time measurement.

Now, the ancient world wasn’t exactly known for its amicability or even peacefulness, as indicated by the countless wars and power usurpations that took place throughout its history. However, Olympic festivals were marked by a truce among the Greeks called ekecheiria, which roughly means “holding of hands.” This ensured safe travels for athletes and spectators as they made their way to the festival and was a common basis for peace among the Greeks. That the Olympic games could get even the constantly feuding Greeks to lay down their arms and come together in a spirit of solidarity speaks to their significance in ancient history.

Early Olympic events included the footrace, wrestling, the long jump, the javelin throw, the discus throw and boxing. Of course, it’s nigh impossible to read about the ancient Olympics and not come across epic tales of chariot racing, an event which was briefly banned early on but was reinstated by the first century B.C. and drew the interest of several key Roman figures (more on that later).

By the fifth century B.C., athletes from all over the Greek-speaking world came to Olympia for the games. The footrace, also called the Stade or Stadion, was considered the most prestigious event, and is where the english word “stadium” is derived from. Stade was a unit of measurement in ancient Greece which modern historians say is the rough equivalent to 600 feet or 200 yards, though the actual length has been a subject of debate for many years. Either way, it represents the length which runners in the Stadion ran to prove themselves as the fastest sprinters in the ancient world.

Interestingly, very little record about the Olympics games during the time of Christ exists. History tells us that the Roman emperor Tiberius, who was emperor during Christ’s life, won the chariot races during the 194th Olympiad in 4 B.C. In 17 A.D., the popular Roman general Germanicus, who was Tiberius’ adopted son and the future father of the third Roman Emperor Caligula, won the chariot races in 17 A.D., presumably around the time Christ was a teenager.

About those chariot races: they were known to attract elite political figures, some of whom won based on true skill, and others who only wanted the appearance of winning to further exert their power and status. During the 211th Olympiad, Emperor Nero, known for his fierce persecution of Christians and rather narcissistic personality, forcibly moved the Olympic games set to take place in 65 A.D. to 67 A.D. so he could compete while on a tour of Greece. He participated in the chariot races (with six more horses than the other competitors), and declared himself the greatest Olympic victor of all time, though historical eyewitness accounts tell a different story. Nero actually nearly died after a severe wreck, but Nero being Nero, he was still declared the winner.

Thankfully, Nero’s title as an Olympic victor and the Olympiad he “won,” which did not adhere to the established chronology of the games, were subsequently stricken from the official Olympic records after his death.

The Olympics grew over the course of 1,200 years until 393 A.D., when Emperor Theodosius I banned all Pagan festivals from the Roman emperor after Christianity became adopted as the state religion. Popular culture and history has long maintained this story of Christianity being to blame for the halt of the Olympic games. However, in recent years, some historians have disputed this account, saying that it was not for religious reasons but rather economic reasons that the games ended when they did. In fact, even after Theodosius’ death, there are still records of Olympic games taking place up until the fifth century. As the administration of Roman Empire evolved, the Olympics could no longer be sponsored by civil funds and instead became sponsored more and more by rich elites of the time. Simply put, the games became too expensive, and no one wanted to pay for them anymore.

The Olympics did not make a return for 1,500 years, until the Athens Olympics in 1896. Over the last 125 years since their reinstatement, the Games have become an integral piece of modern culture and a remnant of ancient history that was revived to great avail. As the Olympics in Tokyo continue over the next week and athletes compete for the gold, the words of St. Paul in his first letter to the Corinthians serve as a pertinent reminder of how the spirit of an Olympian imitates closely that of a Christian:

“Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one receives the prize? So run that you may obtain it. Every athlete exercises self-control in all things. They do it to receive a perishable wreath, but we an imperishable. So I do not run aimlessly; I do not box as one beating the air. But I discipline my body and keep it under control, lest after preaching to others I myself should be disqualified” (1 Cor 9:24-27).

So let the Games continue! And may the race be run not for a perishable prize, but an imperishable one.


Featured photo: Met Museum, Terracotta Panathenaic prize amphora (jar), ca. 510 B.C. Attributed to the Leagros Group.