Meeting Athenians

While Paul was waiting for them in Athens, he was deeply distressed to see that the city was full of idols. So he argued in the synagogue with the Jews and the devout persons, and also in the market-place every day with those who happened to be there. Some said, ‘What does this babbler want to say?’ Others said, ‘He seems to be a proclaimer of foreign divinities.’ (This was because he was telling the good news about Jesus and the resurrection.) So they took him and brought him to the Areopagus and asked him, ‘May we know what this new teaching is that you are presenting? It sounds rather strange to us, so we would like to know what it means.’ Now all the Athenians and the foreigners living there would spend their time in nothing but telling or hearing something new.

 Then Paul stood in front of the Areopagus and said, ‘Athenians, I see how extremely religious you are in every way. For as I went through the city and looked carefully at the objects of your worship, I found among them an altar with the inscription, “To an unknown god.” What therefore you worship as unknown, this I proclaim to you …indeed he is not far from each one of us. 

While God has overlooked the times of human ignorance, now he commands all people everywhere to repent, because he has fixed a day on which he will have the world judged in righteousness by a man whom he has appointed, and of this he has given assurance to all by raising him from the dead.’

 When they heard of the resurrection of the dead, some scoffed; but others said, ‘We will hear you again about this.’ At that point Paul left them. But some of them joined him and became believers, including Dionysius the Areopagite and a woman named Damaris, and others with them.

                                                                                              Acts 17:16-34, slightly edited

We meet Athenians nearly every day. There are all around us, right next door, and sometimes sitting with us in church gatherings. Might even be a few Athenians here today!

We live in a time and place of intense questioning. Sacred and sacrosanct institutions are being questioned, often questioned in ways some of us never imagined them being questioned—educational institutions, government institutions, business institutions, and, of course, as we all know, the church.

Yet, the irony of all this questioning is that as institution after institution falls beneath the weight of skepticism, the hunger for meaning and value increases. We know that nature abhors a vacuum, well, so, too, does the heart—we need something, someone, to fix our hearts upon, to trust, and to center our existence on. 

My wife and I raised two children now the focus of many of the institutions losing place and losing face. They are millennials—24 and 22 years old, respectively. They have now taken their place as the target audience of consultants, marketers, ad campaigns, and, yes, the church. But as millennials they trust none of these entities seeking them. They often see them as nothing more than idols—empty suits seeking their money, their time, and their effort with little or nothing to offer in return. They do not trust business because they went to college hearing promises of lucrative careers upon graduation that following the economic collapse of 2008 more or less disappeared. They do not trust marketers because they have been the object of ad campaigns since they were toddlers trying to watch their favorite TV shows. They do not trust our system of government because they point to campaigns such as the current one for president, shake their heads, and say, Can’t you see these would-be emperors have no clothes? And the church? Well, the church keeps making mountains out of things they know to be molehills—why are you arguing about that? that doesn’t matter! Just fill in for “that” whatever ecclesiastical issue you want. So, many of these seekers have raised an altar to an unknown god—they know they need something at the core of life to give life meaning, to show a way into hope, and offer room to grow into whom they know they were made to be—they just don’t want to be pinned down. They tick the box, “Spiritual, but not religious.”

Now, the thing of it is, they are not alone in this search. They are indeed Athenians, but at the moment, they are surrounded by all sorts of Athenians, just as Paul found—Stoics, Epicureans, Jews, the righteous (whoever that is), and all sorts of other seekers. The time is ripe to fill in the blank. We are here today fairly certain we know the name of the God they seek, just as Paul was. 

But are we as wise as the crusty old apostle in naming God?

You will note if you read through the whole of this story that Paul never does name God or Jesus. He simply points to the Source of everything, indicating that this God has something in mind for us, has done something wonderful for us, and wants no less than be the core of our being. But Paul teases his audience—if you want to know the name, you’ll have to come back!

What is he doing? What is he playing at? Reading Romans or Galatians, one would immediately assume that Paul has no reservations whatsoever in naming God, calling out, “Jesus” for all to hear. So why be coy now?

It’s not being coy—he understands his audience astoundingly well. Look at the pattern revealed in this story—Paul does a lot of conversing—not preaching—conversing. In a conversation, we speak, and then we listen, and then we respond again—back and forth—listening, responding—until all the points are made we want to make. 

Paul talks, yes, but he LISTENS. 

He listens to the questions percolating through the crowds in the marketplace and at the Areopagus. He listens to the questions because they reveal the search for meaning in all its aspects. They reveal a lot about the questioner—who they are, what drives them, and what their needs are.

Then he invites them to come and see—to experience—what he knows to be the fount of redeeming grace, answers, and meaning for hungry hearts. Experience my gospel.

And there is the clue to what we need to be about within our congregations, as a presbytery, and in our own lives as followers of Jesus. We don’t need to immediately jump to the answer of Jesus, we need to show that answer in our words, in our actions, and, most importantly, in our presence within the world. Our current crop of Athenians want engagement, not lectures. They’ve had enough of the church answering their questions with codes of moralism or arguments about being right or wrong. What they want is for us to live what we say we believe.

So I end with my own current understanding of what such a lived gospel looks like. For me, the most immediately powerful act of Jesus was his radical welcome of anyone and everyone who came into his presence. He welcomed them. He then listened to them—deeply, profoundly, and fully. Then he responded, sometimes with words, but note in the Gospels how many times his answer had no words at all! He lived his message of compassion, mercy, and redemption. He got Zacchaeus out of a tree and then had dinner with him. He sat at table with all sorts of tax collectors, sinners, wild women, and other miscreants, enjoying being with them so they knew they, too, were children of God. He touched lepers, making them clean. He cleared minds of demons with a single word. He bowed before his disciples and washed their feet. And then he died for a world gone mad, becoming the full embodiment of self-emptying, other-centered love.

Now it is our turn. 

There are more than enough talkers afoot right now—turn on the TV, someone’s bound to be babbling away. What our crop of Athenians want is someone willing to walk with them, enter their lives, engage—show them the God who is hope, who is love, and who has the power to transform and transcend all that we are, allowing us to become the children of God that God made us to be.