19 - Of One Blood

A statue of Solon, the founder of the Athenian constitution, stood in that part of the Agora that lay below the Acropolis, near the beginning of the Sacred Way that led to the summit. It had been a tradition since the days of Socrates that any wandering professor visiting Athens could speak near the statue on any subject of his choosing, to anyone who was willing to listen. There were plenty of wandering professors, and there were plenty of listeners ready to hear something new in the way of philosophy, science, or politics. The Athenians were noted for their insatiable curiosity and for their readiness to give a hearing to any theories brought to them from anywhere.

Several professors were there one morning addressing little groups of listeners. One was lecturing on the life and philosophy of Zeno, the founder of Stoicism, who taught the theory of one God, the beginning and end of all things. God had delegated certain demons, who had a kind disposition towards man, to manage the world. These were the Greek gods. The Stoics also believed in the immortality of the soul, but not for everyone. That privilege was reserved only for those who were educated and followed the path of justice in their lives. When such men died, their souls were translated to higher spheres. Thus the only aim of the Stoics was to perfect the intelligence.

Another professor nearby was teaching about Epicures, the founder of the Epicurean system. “The gods,” he declared, “can do nothing to change man’s destiny. They have no interest in it. Man’s body ceases to exist when he dies. Therefore do not fear death. Death doesn’t exist, and what doesn’t exist can’t be felt.”

There were four other professors addressing their groups on their special subjects, including one who attracted a larger crowd because he’d just arrived from Alexandria with a new interpretation on the theory of atoms as originally taught by Democritus. Listeners wandered from group to group.

And so they stood in the Agora in the morning light, these teachers who brought to the metropolis of the Greek world every variety of thought the ancient world afforded. Listening to them for a while, Paul was aware that in their confusion of views they weren’t trying to find the truth. They wanted to win a debate, to prove how sharp and ingenious they were. And indeed, many of the listeners came for the same purpose, and the Agora was little more than an arena for mental acrobatics. The glory of Athens drew many professors and students, their robes trailing in the dust of a hundred roads before they achieved the great privilege of teaching or learning in the Agora.

Paul had no way of knowing if his mission would be any more successful here than in the synagogue. His last bit of money was gone, and he was eating very little. His bed was still the hard bench in the hospice. His sandals were worn through; his robe was tattered. He had nothing in the world except his faith in God and Christ. But this was enough for Paul, with his unattractive appearance, his provincial Greek, his outlandish accent. When he’d heard enough of the verbal ingenuities of the professors, he jumped up onto a pedestal, ignoring the god-image that stood there, and starting speaking to the all-wise Athenians.

He started with the Alpha and Omega of the Stoics, the God of the universe. At least that’s not a philosophic hypothesis. It’s reality. God exists. The God of Israel, implicit in every thought, inexpressible by any word, had taken compassion on man, the crown of His creation. He first made a bond with His people, Israel, but now the time had come for Him to extend His compassion to all mankind. God was not indifferent to man’s destiny, for man was the summit of His creation. He’d appointed a time when all men should come under the sign of Christ, a savior who’d been promised through the Jewish prophets. Christ came, and he was here. He was living among them. Though he died, like all other men, he was the first to rise from the dead. In turn, he would awaken all men from death, that they might face his judgment.

Like all speakers in the Agora, Paul had listeners. Some were Athenians, some foreigners. All were attracted by the vague hope. Who knows? Maybe this stranger brings the wisdom of the East, the philosopher’s stone. Maybe he has secrets we never thought of before. Even Paul’s strange appearance was somewhat in his favor. In spite of his long nose and large ears, his high bulging forehead and his general air of exaltation lent a certain amount of credulity to his mission.

But this was true only for some of his listeners. For as he stood talking, one of them exclaimed, “Don’t the gods love beauty anymore? Don’t they usually choose the handsomest men to be their priests? How can this man talk to us of divinity with that face and body?”

“And the way he talks,” groaned another. “That dialect pierces my ears like thorns. Couldn’t the God of Israel send us someone with a better accent?”

“The God of the Jews likes ugly things,” declared a third. “No doubt He Himself is a cripple. You know, the God of the Jews has forbidden His followers to make an image of Him. I wonder why.”

“I don’t know. The wisdom of Athene doesn’t always take the body of an Apollo,” said a fourth. “I’ve heard good things from other gods, too.”

There were some in the crowd who listened attentively to the apostle. One asked Paul a serious question, “Are you implying that not only will our souls be transformed into heroes of legend, but that our bodies will be reassembled in life?”

Paul answered, “Our bodies, in form and substance, will rise from their graves when the lord comes to judge the world. And just as I saw him with my own eyes, even so I believe we shall all rise.”

“If I had a face and body like yours,” muttered one bystander, “I doubt whether I’d want them restored. Now if this God would promise me the figure of Apollo –“

A scholar with a long, earnest face, who was listening closely, said to those around him, “This man speaks wisely, like a philosopher. I too believe that both soul and body will rise in the resurrection. The man gives you full value for your money, mark that well. For when all is said and done, what does man have apart from his body? The body is what measures and bears the worth of a man.”

The scholar turned to Paul and said, loudly, “Tell me, man of learning and philosophy, how will the body be brought back to life after corrupting in the earth? Do you agree with Democritus that our bodies are composed of atoms, and that these atoms will be reassembled, to rebuild man’s body with all its functions? If so, then perhaps the learned speaker can tell us what happens to those atoms that fall away from one man’s body and become part of another man’s body? Will they be returned to the first man’s body so he can become whole again? And if that’s so, what happens to the second body? What experimental proofs do you have about the veracity of your theories? If you will be good enough to produce them, I’m sure the scholars here will examine them with the utmost interest. Better yet, we’ll all be indescribably grateful for the privilege of witnessing the experiments the learned speaker will no doubt perform in our presence.”

The man looked around with a mocking grin and said, “Do any of you, O scholars and philosophers, happen to have a corpse in his possession, for the purpose of this experiment? Or perhaps one of you will allow himself to be temporarily killed in the name of wisdom?”

In the simplicity of his soul, Paul didn’t catch the mockery in the man’s voice at first. He didn’t even notice that the laughter of the bystanders was directed at him. To him the mocking professor was the simpleton, and he was filled with pity for him, as one is filled with pity for a half-wit who suffers from the delusion that he’s a sage.

“O wise one of Athens,” he began his answer. “From what atoms are you made? Who formed you and reared you into manhood? A stinking drop was sown in your mother’s womb, and out of it a man was born. What about the bread you eat? A seed was placed in the earth, and a blade of wheat grew out of it. And with what atoms did God form the world? Who gave Him the drops of water to fill the oceans? Who brought to His hand the material to create the stars in heaven, the seen world and the unseen world, the known and the unknown? Will it be hard for Him that did this to gather together again the man He has sown in the womb of the earth? Can you put a boundary to the deeds of God, you who are blind worms, you sages of Athens?”

“The man’s babbling! Don’t you see he’s half-witted?”
“No, he’s not babbling. He preaches about a certain Jesus, and the resurrection, things we hear now for the first time.”
“So he brings alien gods to Athens? Another cult from the barbarians?”
“Surely he’s an enemy of the gods.”
“Mutiny. Down with him! Haul him to the city council.”

Laughter had become anger. A dozen hands were stretched out and the apostle was dragged down from the pedestal and carried up the winding stairs to the platform atop the Areopagus, where the councilors were seated on stone benches, discussing the affairs of the city. Paul suddenly found himself surrounded by white heads and white beards. He was standing in the center of the council. Their grave faces wore a uniform expression of amusement and contempt. He heard the furious complaints of those who dragged him there.

“He brings strange things to our ears!” shouted one.
“He preaches alien gods!”
“He preaches a certain Jesus who created the resurrection.”
“The resurrection?” asked a councilor. “What’s that?”
“The dead climb out of their graves.”
“And you’ve brought this Jew here because of such empty nonsense?”

But one of the councilors turned a puzzled gaze on Paul.

“Tell us,” he said, “what is this new doctrine? We’re curious to hear it.”

“Men of Athens,” said Paul. “I see you are very religious in all things. For as I went past your sanctities I saw an altar on which was written: To an unknown god. Him who you worship unknowingly, I preach.

“The God who created the world and all things in it, being the Lord of Heaven and earth, inhabits no manmade temple. Nor does the hand of man serve him, as though He were in need, for He gives life and breath to all things. He fashioned all people of one flesh, so that they might inhabit all the earth. And He set the times, according to where men live, in which they should seek Him, though he is close at hand, for we live and breathe in Him, even as several of your poets have sung.

“Now therefore, because we are descended from God, it’s not becoming to us to liken divinity to gold, or silver, or stone, hewn into certain forms by master craftsmen. The time of this ignorance is over, and now He commands that all men repent and turn to Him. He has set a day on which He will judge the world in justice, through the man He has chosen. And this was assured to all when he awakened this man from the dead.”

The councilors listened patiently, more or less, until Paul said the words “awakened from the dead.” This caused loud laughter among the councilors.

“See, this man is out of his mind.”
“True, something’s lacking here,” said one councilor, pointing to his head.

This mockery actually saved Paul from the charge of blasphemy against the gods. One councilor even slapped him on the shoulder, saying, “Hear now, good man. Some other day, perhaps we’ll listen. But now, go home and rest.”

And with this he was dismissed.

Plodding homeward, Paul said in his heart, “I will yet disturb the wisdom of the wise and shame the understanding of the sages!”

* * * * *

Timothy finally arrived from Thessalonica, and just in time. He found Paul in a grievous physical and moral condition.

He brought a little money with him, a gift from the good and wise Lydia of Philippi. He also brought her report on the welfare of the believers in her city, and Paul rejoiced to hear that his foundations were firm.

Timothy took Paul out of the gloomy little hospice and put him up in a regular hostel. He also took Paul to a steam bath, and bought new clothes to replace the rags he was wearing. And while he washed the weary, almost fleshless feet of his “father”, he gave him a detailed report of the progress of the group in Thessalonica, laying Paul’s fears to rest, for his labors had taken permanent root, and the first fruits were evident.

But there were some difficulties. Some people believed so strongly that the coming of Christ was imminent, that they saw no sense in carrying on the business of daily life. They’d abandoned their regular jobs and spent their days in idleness, living on the charity of the community. There were also some who weren’t able to completely abandon their old idolatrous habits and customs. Some had relapsed into a life of whoredom, and they deceived and fooled each other in their behavior. The rest just tried to ignore it all. These thought of Paul often and longed for his return, while some of the backsliders were frightened by such a thought.

Paul realized that he shouldn’t have let Timothy come to him, as he was so obviously needed there. So he told him to return to Thessalonica. Timothy pleaded to be allowed to stay with Paul to tend to him. Silas, he said, was in Thessalonica, and he was a great worker.

But Paul was insistent, saying, “God comfort you, my son, as you have comforted your father Paul. The Lord calls you elsewhere to His work, and you must go.”

He sent Timothy back to Macedonia and then made preparations to go to Corinth.