As the great spasm draws to a close the anticipation of relief is (for me) quite delicious.
For over a month the dream world of the Olympics held us in sway and the infantile obsession with sport became a kind of religious orthodoxy. Millions have worshiped at the Sign of the Twisted Tower and felt part of “something bigger than themselves”. They have shared days of awe and wonder.
Like pilgrims to Mecca they will talk about their “hajj” for years to come. Like returnees from Rome and Santiago they have their souvenirs to remind them for years of their pious journey, the signs of their souls’ devotion.
Perhaps we should be glad that the aesthetics of worship have been commandeered by Coca Cola and the International Olympic Committee. The institutional monstrosities of traditional religion have been outgunned by the humanist celebration of elite excellence. This religion does not demand blood sacrifice or war on unbelievers. It is all harmless fun isn’t it?