One Man’s Vision—The “Religion” of The Olympics

He called it religio athetae—the religion of athletics. And he fervently believed that the achievement of perfection of mind and body was the path to the world’s redemption.

And so, Pierre de Coubertin, the French baron and pacifist, revived the ancient Greek games of competition, christening his new religion, “Olympism.”

At the time of the Games’ modern revival, 1896, the approaching shadow of the 20th century betokened, for many, an era where industry and technology would supersede spiritual values and morality and where mercy and understanding would wither under the new banners of militarism and greed.

Coubertin envisioned a new religion for the new century, one based less on deities and worship and more on the striving for individual perfection and intercultural understanding and teamwork.

As Jeffrey Scholes, Professor of Religious Studies at the University of Colorado and Terry Shoemaker, Associate Teaching Professor in Religious Studies at Arizona State University, wrote, “[W]ith the rising explanatory power of science, traditional religion was relied on less and less as a panacea for the world’s ills. A new world was dawning, and he hoped Olympism would act as a corrective.”

He believed that the revival of the ancient Games was central to his new faith and that, indeed, the future survival of civilization depended on its success. A once-every-fourth-year competition among champions from the four corners of the world would foster an outlet for national pride more healthy than bloody conquest, and the global harmony achieved by a peaceful gathering of cultures would breed mutual understanding and respect.

His ideas were lofty and noble—and flawed. The new Olympics flourished, ultimately becoming prey to the greed and politics Coubertin so abhorred. The 20th century came and went, leaving two catastrophic world wars and untold devastation in its militaristic wake.

Pierre de Coubertin, himself an Olympic Gold Medal winner in 1912—for poetry (his “Ode to Sport” won the prize in the since-discontinued category of literature)—lived long enough to see a tyrant twist the games to his own ends at the Berlin Olympiad of 1936.

He died a year later, instructing that his heart be buried in Olympia, the sacred sanctum of the Olympic torch—still believing that his new religion of the perfection of body and mind could work, that Olympism would yet bring the world together.

And so it does, for a brief moment every four years, permitting the world to take a much-needed breather from its bad habits and possibly to congratulate itself on the potential, if not the fact, of peace.

Image credits: Olympic Flame by Pietro Izzo. CC BY-NC-SA 2.0.