George and Betsy, 60 years later

George and Betsy Weigel would have marked their diamond wedding anniversary on Nov. 12—“would have,” because my father died on Oct. 19, 2004, and my mother died, at age 95 1/2, this past Oct. 25. I’ve no idea about the arrangements for anniversary parties around the Throne of Grace. But if what we’re promised there is the perfection of earthly goods, then a more-than-decent vintage (a 1997 Barolo, perhaps) will likely be uncorked. In this vale of tears, perhaps the best I can do for my late parents as I remember their diamond jubilee is to offer a wider readership a glimpse into their lives through fragments of the tributes I offered at their funeral Masses:

At the funeral Mass for George Shillow Weigel, Oct. 23, 2004:

“For the seven years I served as president of the Ethics and Public Policy Center, I was privileged to have Admiral Bud Zumwalt, the former Chief of Naval Operations, as my board chairman. Dad and Bud were contemporaries, one a reserve naval officer who graduated from the University of Pennsylvania, the other an Annapolis graduate, both of whom served America and the cause of freedom in the Pacific. On one occasion I told Bud that Dad, who like others of his generation spoke very little about his service, had once made a mildly ironic comment about the wisdom of the United States Navy, turning an economics major into a landing craft commander rather than using him in supply or management or something for which his education had prepared him. Bud laughed and said, ‘I bet your father never told you that they screened those reserve officers for qualities of leadership—and then assigned the leaders to command those landing craft.’

“Of course, Dad hadn’t told me that. His leadership was of a piece with his other qualities: understated (which, given the personalities of his sons, suggests that understatement is not genetically transmitted in the male line down the generations). … His volunteer work, teaching reading to adult illiterates, or doing “Meals on Wheels,” was understated; but he kept feeding the hungry until he was unable to do so any longer. … His successful professional life was understated; yet one of his colleagues told me that Dad, in addition to being a skilled manager, was a terrific salesman. I expect he was that because people knew they could trust him.”

At the funeral Mass for Betsy Schmitz Weigel, Oct. 28, 2009:

“Five months after Mom was born, European civilization imploded in the First World War and the 20th century began in earnest. Mom lived through that entire epoch—from the guns of August 1914 through the collapse of Soviet communism in 1991—and then lived for another decade and a half in the 21st century, which as an epoch began in 1991, as the 20th century as an epoch really began in 1914. Her life spanned nine pontificates and 16 presidencies, three world wars (counting the Cold War), an ecumenical council, the civil rights revolution, the contemporary women’s movement, the Sixties, the pro-life movement, the Revolution of 1989 (and) 9/11. … At her death, America had traveled as far, in time, from her birth as the country had traveled from the first administration of President James Monroe to the day Betsy Hebner Schmitz entered the world. …

“Mom was (my brother) John’s and my first evangelist: she taught us our prayers, helped us learn the Baltimore Catechism, later helped us memorize the Latin responses that enabled us to become altar boys, (and) … drove us to serve the 6:45 a.m. Mass with jelly sandwiches in our bookbags for breakfast afterwards. Her example of prayer, and Dad’s, which was both profound and unobtrusive, left its mark; so did their patience with occasionally rambunctious sons, who later experienced the joys of raising teenagers themselves; and so did the noble Baltimore German habit of offering sauerkraut with the Thanksgiving turkey, a tradition which continues to the third and fourth generation…”

George and Betsy, Dad and Mom: requiescant in pace.

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.