Hermes, Zeus, and Our Carbon Ribs: The gods are among us.

Earlier this year, I wrote a homily on Acts 14:8-18. Typically, when I am reading, writing, or studying, I need complete silence. Music or talking of any sort removes me from focus and flow. If you have read my first post, you'll know that my daughter, Wren, says, "That's because you're so old.” Writing this homily was different, though. As I was writing, the song “Carbon Ribs” by John Mark McMillan played on repeat in my mind. If you have never heard it, please do yourself a favour and listen to it here. It is hauntingly beautiful. As I studied this moment of confusion among the worshipers of Zeus and Hermes, the message of Carbon Ribs began to weave together in my mind. 

A third vibrant thread in this tapestry before me was a conversation with my son Ephram. About a year ago, he and I were sitting together at supper, discussing Homer’s Odyssey. For some reason, he was drawn to the idea of reading the original hero’s tale, found a copy he could read on his phone, and devoured the story. 

I was shocked and excited by the fact that he had just done this on a whim. I felt inspired by him. Though I had always wanted to read the classic stories of Homer, I had never read more than a famous phrase here or there. So, after finding The Iliad on the shelf at Value Village, I dove in. The story has reinvigorated my imagination and sparked a renewed desire to engage with mythology. To begin to see myth less as an untrue story, and more as artistic (or maybe even divine) truth-telling. One of the most interesting aspects of reading the Iliad has been how much I relate to the perspective of these fascinatingly complex and deeply flawed characters and their culture. Once you have immersed yourself in these tales, you can see them still reverberating through the streets of Western civilization. Maybe even throughout creation itself?

I have tremendously enjoyed tuning myself to their frequency again. Even this pagan story offers a natural balm to the soul that much of our current milieu no longer provides. 

As a Christian, it is clear that these Greek ideas of the world are not so different from those of our Lord's day. What we read about in The Iliad and The Odyssey is present in the people of the first century. As we can see in Acts 14, many still worship the gods of these Greek stories, and these gods are active participants in their lives. The spiritual and physical are not separate realities. Not only is there a spiritual world, but the existence of the gods is assured, and these divine beings interact with humans.

Now, I don't want to go too far here because there are many things that I believe the ancient Greeks got wrong, but this lay of the land is vital for understanding our passage today. If we could, for a moment, consider his confusion among the worshippers of Zeus and Hermes, it reveals a parallel plain present in this enchanting story that sets the context for the whole scene of Acts 14. 

In the Iliad, for instance, the men are valiant and capable of accomplishing extraordinary things. If strong enough, or blessed sufficiently by the gods, they can turn the tide of war against a whole army. They may even challenge some lesser or weaker gods along the way, but they cannot do any of this alone. It is only through the “interference” of, or interaction with, the gods that someone can make such a change to their physical environment. In the Iliad, we see the gods whisk these men of war away from danger, change the direction of an arrow, or send lightning strikes to slow down or change the advancement of one side. According to Greek mythology, the gods can even heal their human subjects if they wish to. So, when St. Paul proclaims, “Stand upright on your feet,” and the man is healed and able to stand, it serves as proof to the people that he is Hermes, the herald of the gods, and the other being with him must be the one he serves, Zeus.

Without context, the people's response may seem strange to us, but once you understand their way of life, the story gains meaning. The miracle served as proof of the divine presence, and they were right. The Scriptures are not trying to reveal intellectually weak people who believe in Zeus and Hermes. Instead, we’re meant to see a deceived people, who have not yet met the Most High God. These are people who understand faith, even if that faith is misplaced or misguided.

At the beginning of verse 8, St. Paul saw that there was faith in the crippled man. This man heard the truth of God and believed he could be healed. St. Paul then responds to the faith that is present within the man. The saint knows that where there is faith, mountains can be moved. Where there is faith, the blind can see, the deaf can hear, the lame can walk, so he proclaims the truth. God, the Creator of all things, was present. He was there. The crowd was right; the divine was in their midst. They looked at Paul and Barnabas and saw their gods, and wished to worship them. 

St. Paul’s response to them was to explain that everything they believe comes from Zeus—the rain and fruitful crops—actually comes from the Creator God, YHWH. In verse 15, he even goes as far as to say, “turn from these vain things to a living God,” explaining that the gods they serve are not as they appear. There is no life in Zeus. So, the crowd restrains itself. Confused, the crowd chooses not to offer their sacrifices. 

I have thought a lot about this moment in the passage. The people deeply desired to worship these gods in the way they’ve always known, so much so that when the beings they believed were their gods revealed the truth, they would not listen. The crowd sought the blessing of the gods with ears that could not hear. All they were interested in was what the gods could do for them and to be safe from what the gods could do against them. Their form of faith was revealed as something different and more insidious.

The passage portrays the healed man as the vision of faith, whereas the crowd represents stubbornness and self-gratification.

So, where does the song come in? 

Well, throughout all of my time meditating on this passage, one thing has been echoing back to my heart and mind. “Be the crippled man.” It was while he sat there, unchanged bodily, crippled with the same issue he had since birth, that faith lived within him. Christ picked this man up and set him at His table to feast. St. Paul saw the faith within him, faith that could make him well, but he lacked the wisdom to know what to do with it. His ears were open to the healing his heart desired because his heart was open to The Truth.

As I imagined what this scene must have looked like, it reminded me of my teenage years spent at charismatic conferences in the 90s. I remember praying that God would notice me, while also dreading the idea of being pointed out in front of all my friends. I think if we're honest, we all want to have our crippled places healed. Maybe being called out of the crowd is the worst thing we can imagine, as it was for me, but your heart is dying for God to see you and heal you. Acts 14 reveals who receives that call. It is the crippled man, the one who hears and is changed within. That is trouble for a culture like ours that looks to mask everything true about us. We live to perfect the outer shell, the false self. We teach our kids to express themselves rather than learn themselves. We act as if we have created ourselves and know every part of who we are. Can a child understand the complexities of their soul? Can I? 

For the last 12 years, I have been saying, “I can’t wait till I’m 60 because then I might have something worth saying.” Perhaps that is a strange thing for a preacher and priest to say, but life has only proven this to be true. Now, at 42, I can see my immaturity more clearly than ever, and I feel the need to grow and mature. Life has so much more to teach me. How can I put a face forward of perfection, when the crooked paths within become all the more obvious?

The story in Acts 14 tells us that we have a choice to make. We can either be the ones who hear the truth without ears to hear, because all we want is to worship and live according to our ways. We have a choice to be someone not open to change, willingly walking away from the goodness of God, confused and frustrated, or we can be the crippled man. The one who knows the parts that do not work and receives whatever is given. The one who simply listens and responds. The one who follows and learns.

The final line of the chorus of Carbon Ribs says, 
And one day when I’m free 
I will sit 
The cripple at your table 
The cripple by your side

That is all I have ever wanted. So, how do I choose to be the crippled man seated at His table, crippled by his side? Of course, I want to be healed, but more than that, deep down inside, I want to be by His side. According to the song, it is the result of freedom. Acts 14 tells us that it is the freedom within that hears the word of God and responds. It is the freedom that comes from faith in Christ. As St Paul says in his letter to the Galatians, “For Freedom Christ has set us free.” 

What am I saying? Christ is inviting us to the table of the LORD. He invites us all to His table. The question is, will we leave confused because His message of grace and mercy does not sound like the world we know? Or, will we be the crippled man, sitting by his side? God is among us. He is here inviting us to His table. Do we have ears to hear?