Kingdom Ruins

Athens doesn’t have skyscrapers. Due to strict zoning laws that prevent any building from obstructing the view of the Acropolis, the city simultaneously feels both incredibly open and claustrophobic. There are no buildings looming over you, so you can see plenty of sky, but at the same time, that means all the buildings and sidewalks are that much more squeezed together. But when you do get to some elevation, you can see a whole lot more than in other cities.

One morning during a trip to Greece with my school’s Classics department, we were walking toward the Areopagus, also known as the Rock of Ares, which is a sizable overlook on a hill next to the Acropolis. I opened my Bible app and began to read Acts 17, the chapter where Paul first enters Athens and gives a sermon at the Areopagus to the Greeks. It’s unclear whether Paul actually delivered the speech on or just near the rock, but I liked to imagine that he might have been at the same lookout spot that I was as he prepared to preach.

Luke sets up the scene by telling us that “while Paul was waiting for them in Athens, he was greatly distressed to see that the city was full of idols.” [1] It’s always comforted me to know that a man as joyful and optimistic as Paul felt this way when looking at the world. Despite this feeling, Paul began by looking for common ground with the new citizens he had observed. “‘People of Athens!’ he opens, ‘I see that in every way you are very religious. For as I walked around and looked carefully at your objects of worship, I even found an altar with this inscription: TO AN UNKNOWN GOD. So you are ignorant of the very thing you worship—and this is what I am going to proclaim to you.” [2] Bishop Robert Barron calls the Areopagus sermon a “masterclass in evangelization” because “moving through the culture of his time, (Paul) assimilates what he can and resists what he must.” [3]

Yet, even with a nuanced sermon being delivered by one of the church’s most famous evangelists, Luke records that while a few people believed Paul, it wasn’t overly effective. In fact, some of the listeners sneered at him, and Paul departed for Corinth shortly after. Athens is then not mentioned for the rest of the New Testament. There’s a good chance that Paul would’ve died thinking that Christianity in Athens would never take root. So reading this narrative atop the Areopagus, I was very moved by just how many churches I could see in the distance. Not just that, but all around the Areopagus there were ancient pagan sites that only remained as ruins, and next to many of them, you could see large churches standing tall. It was very powerful to think that the same idols that caused Paul to feel distressed were now all overtaken by churches that came from the seeds of his ministry, even if he was never around to see it.

It’s interesting how Luke seems to describe the members of the Areopagus as men who just waste their days talking about vanities. Luke’s entire account of Athens is unusually short, so it’s funny that he took the time to include the following description: “All the Athenians and the foreigners who lived there spent their time doing nothing but talking about and listening to the latest ideas.” [4] You can almost hear him rolling his eyes as he wrote it. It reminds me of a great quote by St. John Chrysostom, a fourth century archbishop and church doctor who describes vanity in one of the most unique ways I’ve ever heard. “Consider what comes of food, into what it is changed. Are you not disgusted at its being named? Why then be eager for such accumulations? The increase of luxury is but the multiplication of dung! For nature has her limits, and what is beyond these is not nourishment, but injury, and the increase of ordure.” [5]

In isolation, this might be a pretty depressing quote. Chrysostom seems to suggest that much of what we pursue in life, whether it actually be food and luxury or the vain talk at the Areopagus, is in fact a waste of time. Not just a waste of time, but an active multiplication of something bad. It’s like in the movie Inception when characters are described as getting stuck in dreams, where nothing they do matters, and they can become apathetic almost to the point of death. The plot revolves around characters creating little personalized items called totems, something like a coin or a spinning top, that can help them identify what is real and what isn’t. So if so much of what we do is just multiplying dung, what do we focus on to know what’s real?

Later in the same sermon series, Chrysostom says the following. “God made Heaven, and earth, and sea. Great works these, and worthy of His wisdom! But by none of these has He so powerfully attracted human nature to Himself, as by mercy and the love of mankind. For that indeed is the work of power and wisdom and goodness. But it is far more so that He became a servant. Do we not for this more especially admire Him? Are we not for this still more amazed at Him? Nothing attracts God to us so much as mercy. And the prophets from beginning to end discourse upon this subject.” [6]

He tells us to focus on the Incarnation and the mercy that flows from it. By prioritizing that, we can make sure we are spending our lives on what’s real and avoid the pitfalls described by Luke and Chrysostom. Going back to Paul’s sermon, we can see a nice parallel. “In the past God overlooked such ignorance, but now he commands all people everywhere to repent. For he has set a day when he will judge the world with justice by the man he has appointed. He has given proof of this to everyone by raising him from the dead.” [7] Paul knew what these men were used to talking about, and made sure to center his message on Jesus’ identity and actions.

I truly hope that one day I get to explore more of the locations from the Book of Acts, and walk by more of the geography that the early apostles visited as they preached. But in the meantime, as I try to avoid vain talk and multiplying dung, I’ll never forget visiting the Areopagus, and seeing the impact that was eventually had by preaching centered on Jesus and his mercy. Lord, give us the strength to do the same!

 

FOOTNOTES

1: Acts 17:16

2: Acts 17:22-23

3: https://www.wordonfire.org/articles/barron/paul-on-the-areopagus-a-master-class-in-evangelization/

4: Acts 17:21

5: Sermons on 2 Timothy

6: Sermons on 2 Timothy

7: Acts 17:30-31

 

Andrew Nachamkin ’24 is a Statistics and Classics double major from the Hudson Valley, NY. Ever since middle school he has been fascinated by church history and apologetics, and is grateful for Telos for giving him outlets to explore these topics. Outside of school, he enjoys Nintendo games and basketball. After graduation he will move to New York City to work in finance.

Unending Love by Joshua Hewson

The struggle of life is rough,

and waiting for better things

can hurt like hell.

 

We pray for better times

without knowing

when they will come

or if they will come.

 

But love redeems the struggle.

 

Love gives us patience 

when we are tired of waiting.

 

Love gives us hope

when we want to give up.

 

Love gives us direction

when we cannot find our way.

 

Love gives us joy

when everything feels broken.

 

God is Love;

to know God is to know Love.

 

The better I’ve come 

to understand Love, 

the better I’ve come 

to understand God.

 

I mean it all comes back to God’s love, doesn’t it? It’s the one thing that will actually lastingly satisfy us and that we do not need to wait for or worry about losing. Deep down, we long for something we already have: unconditional, unending love. For all that we seek out in our search for happiness, all we ever needed to do was to come Home.

 

Joshua Hewson 22 majored in Mathematics and served as Prayer Leader in Williams Christian Fellowship. He likes to think deeply and come up with ideas, especially while trail running. He was raised in London and now lives in Boston, where he does Artificial Intelligence research at Brown University. 

Longing for Legacy

“But whatever were gains to me I now consider loss for the sake of Christ.”

– Philippians 3:7

Over the summer, I finally watched Breaking Bad and was blown away by the show’s climactic moments that portray our society’s struggles of violence, greed, and pride. However, there’s one quieter scene that has kept bouncing around my head for longer than I expected.

Throughout the show, we follow Walter White, a chemistry teacher diagnosed with terminal cancer who cooks crystal meth to pay for his treatment and support his family. As Walt grows increasingly attached to the money and power he is receiving and it becomes harder to hide his crimes, he faces dilemmas that change him from a loving and desperate father into a hardened kingpin whose family increasingly resents him. In the episode “Salud,” Walt takes painkillers after being badly injured in an argument and ends up missing his son Junior’s sixteenth birthday. Later in the episode, Junior goes to check in on his clearly intoxicated father, who then uncharacteristically breaks down in tears and apologizes. The next morning, a sober Walt finds Junior and opens up about his own father also dying young before saying, “I don’t want you to think of me as the way I was last night. I don’t want that to be the memory you have of me when I’m gone.” [1]

This line hit me hard. Though I don’t like to admit it, I think the reason is because I often find myself feeling like Walt here. Deep down, I know there’s a part of me that also longs to be remembered after I’m gone, a part that’s scared of not doing enough with life, or worse, thinking that nothing I did truly mattered. I don’t really like this feeling, and so in looking for guidance, I found some comfort by going down a rabbit hole into 2 Corinthians.

In 2 Corinthians, Paul is dealing with false teachers who have infiltrated the church in Corinth, a church which already struggles with factions and internal divisions, as we know from Paul’s earlier letter. [2] These “super apostles,” as Paul backhandedly calls them, prioritize status and money, and they try to discredit Paul for possessing neither. Among the accusations, they mention how Paul’s “letters are weighty and forceful, but his physical presence is unimpressive, and his speaking is of no account.” [3] 

I always pictured Paul to be this powerful presence as a speaker, especially since in Acts we see Paul’s grand speeches throughout the Mediterranean and are told how “every Sabbath he reasoned in the synagogue, trying to persuade Jews and Greeks.” [4] I was caught off guard to read this accusation since the two accounts then felt like they were somehow in tension with each other. However, as I looked into it, I started to learn that a lot more is going on.

A helpful clue comes from New Testament professor Judith Diehl, who explains how “in that culture, oratory was a recognized talent and trade, and clever speech was designed to make money.” [5] This is consistent with what we find in Chapter 11, where Paul asks, “Was it a sin for me to lower myself in order to elevate you by preaching the gospel of God to you free of charge?” [6] Paul is acknowledging that he could have been like the rest of the world, using his preaching for money, but decided not to, since his priorities were to build up his congregation, not himself.

Adding onto this, New Testament professor Craig Keener in his popular Bible Backgrounds Commentary points out how the accusation against Paul “need not mean that he is a terrible speaker,” [7] but instead that “Paul’s speech reflects insufficient rhetorical training to impress the powerful people of society.” [8] I think the word “impress” is key there. Paul certainly could have spoken in such a way that his preaching would bring recognition to himself, but how could he do that when the point of his preaching was to bring recognition to Jesus?

Suddenly, Paul being accused of poor public speaking starts to make sense. It’s not that he was incoherent, but rather that he had a tool at his disposal that could have brought him money and status, but he instead used it to bring people to Christ, something that puzzled the super apostles. Instead of solidifying his own legacy, he helped spread Jesus’. It’s the lived-out example of Paul’s maxim in Galatians: “If I were still trying to please people, I would not be a servant of Christ.” [9]

Going back to that scene from Breaking Bad, it’s interesting to see how much Walt is acting like a super apostle. He is so obsessed with money and power that acting emotional and vulnerable in front of his son is seen as a blemish on the legacy he is trying so hard to curate for himself, so he asks his son not to remember that moment. It wasn’t enough to just be remembered; Walt needed to have control over what those memories were.

What makes the scene hit even harder is Junior’s response to his father’s request. “Remembering you that way wouldn’t be so bad. The bad way to remember you would be the way you’ve been this whole past year. At least last night you were real.” [10]

In an excellent video essay on this scene, YouTuber Aleczandxr comments how Walt “was ironically doomed to become the type of person that would never leave the type of impact he desired.” [11] Walt worked so hard to hide his double life as a drug lord that it ended up costing him his relationship with his family, even when all his son wanted was for his father to be present and honest. Junior’s final line of the scene reminds us how we all impact people in ways we may never know, ultimately rendering our legacy different from anything we could predict regardless of how hard we may try to control it. This fact that we can impact those around us without ever knowing the results is both an incredible privilege and a terrifying responsibility. 

As I’ve thought more about legacy, I’ve often been drawn to this beautiful reflection on Jesus’ command to be salt. “Do you have any memories of finishing a great meal and having the conversation turn to how great the salt was? Me neither. It’s something that does its job but doesn’t draw attention to itself. The body needs it in order to maintain fluid balance, blood pressure, and nerve/muscle function. It makes the flavor of food peak. And yet very rarely do we feel the need to notice or talk about it… Our eyes are searching for big things, breakthroughs, defining moments… and Jesus reminds us that the kingdom of God is like salt. Mostly unnoticed, doing good work.” [12]

Like Paul, we all have been given tools that we can use either to promote ourselves or to promote Jesus. Though I still struggle with this longing to create a legacy, I think by following Paul’s example, I can work to care less about legacy and also make sure the memory that I do leave uplifts the right things. And more importantly, I can take comfort in knowing that the only one who will truly remember my legacy is also the one who made me and knows me and wants to help guide me towards His purpose. Lord, give me the strength to promote and to trust you more.

 

FOOTNOTES

1: ”Salud,” Breaking Bad, Season 4, Episode 10.

2: 1 Corinthians 1:10, New International Version.

3: 2 Cor. 10:10, NIV.

4: Acts 18:4, NIV.

5: Judith A. Diehl. The Story of God Bible Commentary: 2 Corinthians, ed. Tremper Longman III and Scot McKnight (Zondervan Academic, Kindle Edition, 2020), 325-326.

6: 2 Cor. 11:7, NIV.

7: Craig S. Keener, IVP Bible Background Commentary: New Testament (IVP Academic, 2014), 510.

8: Ibid., 509.

9: Galatians 1:10, NIV.

10: “Salud,” Breaking Bad.

11: Aleczandxr, “The Hidden Origin of Heisenberg,” 19 Apr. 2022. https://youtu.be/U-H_U4-bnTw.

12: Nancy Ortberg, “Following Jesus,” in Living the King Jesus Gospel, ed. Nijay K. Gupta, et al. (Cascade Books, 2021), 201.

 

Andrew Nachamkin ’24 is a Statistics and Classics double major and is a board member of Telos and Williams Christian Fellowship. From Cold Spring, NY, he enjoys basketball, theater, his Kindle, and his friends.

Dealing with Doubt

“And have mercy on those who doubt.” – Jude 22

I’ll never forget the first time I seriously questioned my faith. I was thirteen, sitting in the back of a Christmas Eve service, and as I looked up at the church ceiling, I thought, “How do I know this isn’t all made up?” Feeling the tears build in my eyes, I rushed out of the sanctuary to collect myself. As I sat in the lobby, a domino effect of uncertainty and confusion set in. I began to question more and more of what I had been brought up to believe. I felt overcome with fear.

My fear stemmed from a view of faith as a binary thing that you either had or didn’t have. Growing up in church, sometimes I’d look around and it would feel like every other Christian had it all figured out, with complete confidence in their convictions. I wanted to be that way too, so I’d act like I didn’t have any doubts. I would hear stories about people who had left the faith after they had started doubting; so at some point, I developed this notion that if I were a real Christian, I wouldn’t experience doubt. Doubt became something to avoid, to push away, or to treat like it didn’t exist. As a result, I came to fear it. Once I grew older and the questions kept piling up without being addressed, eventually, I hit a breaking point. I had all this doubt built up and absolutely no idea how to feel about it, where to go with it, or what my life would look like if I ever made it out.

I know I’m not alone in having felt this way. In fact, it seems to be very common. There are a lot of things in the world that can lead someone to doubt. It could be a family member receiving a concerning diagnosis, a news station describing the latest tragedy, or something as simple as curiously searching a Bible question on Google and being bombarded by dozens of skeptical and atheistic responses. Sometimes, the messiness of it all makes it feel like we just can’t believe what Christianity teaches. This is only worsened by COVID-19, where prolonged isolation and a spotlight on worldwide suffering bring with them a slew of new questions, magnifying whatever uncertainties about Christianity we may have had previously. Christians today need to be prepared to deal with doubt, both in our own lives and our communities, but we can’t be ready if it’s something of which we are fearful.

This is why Matthew 11 has quickly become one of my favorite passages in the Bible. In this chapter, John the Baptist, the prophet who prepared the way for Jesus and even baptized Him, has just been put in prison. Likely awaiting death, he has his followers ask Jesus a question on his behalf: “Are you the one who is to come, or shall we look for another?”1

This question still shocks me when I read it because it reveals that John the Baptist had some serious doubts about his faith. I know that if I were in John’s position, I would have been absolutely terrified to ask this question. John, the man who was related to Jesus and witnessed His miracles and teachings, the man who talked about Jesus by proclaiming “this joy of mine is now complete.”2 You’d think if anyone had confidence that Jesus was the Christ, it would be John the Baptist! Yet, there he was, publicly questioning Jesus’ validity, doubting the very faith that he had once championed. 

I’ve noticed that when talking to people about how their doubts have been received, their experiences generally fall into one of two camps. The first is that people feel their concerns are inflated, where the doubter ends up feeling judged or reprimanded for asking questions. The second is to have their concerns mitigated, to be told their doubt will fade away and that all it takes is more faith. Both of these approaches can lead people to fear their doubts, which is why Jesus’ response to John is so amazing. Jesus says, “The blind receive their sight and the lame walk, lepers are cleansed and the deaf hear, and the dead are raised up and the poor have good news preached to them. And blessed is the one who is not offended by me.”3

At first glance, Jesus’ response can seem confusing. John asked a yes or no question, so why didn’t Jesus answer accordingly? However, in this context, His response was really a resounding “yes.” New Testament scholar Craig Evans elaborates by referring to 4Q521, a Dead Sea Scrolls fragment that describes what some of Jesus’ contemporaries thought should be happening in the world when the Messiah arrived. Evans explains that “Jesus has appealed to some of the same passages and phrases that were employed by the author of 4Q521… In answering John’s question in this way, Jesus has clearly implied that he is indeed Israel’s Messiah, for the wonderful things that are supposed to happen when the Messiah appears are in fact happening in Jesus’ ministry.”4 Jesus doesn’t just have an answer; He has evidence that backs up his answer, showing John that there is good reason to keep the faith. By pointing to what He has done in the world, Jesus reminds John that despite the circumstances, Jesus is the One who is in control.

Jesus then goes on to say, “Among those born of women there has arisen no one greater than John the Baptist.”5 Given how disrespectful John’s doubt would have appeared to be, it would have been easy for Jesus to either attack John or ignore his question. However, Jesus not only takes the question seriously but also builds John’s confidence back up with His response. As American theologian Russell Moore points out, “A narcissistic cult leader or political guru would be offended by this wobbliness, but Jesus was not.”

I think Christians can benefit greatly if we take Matthew 11 to heart when dealing with doubt, both for ourselves and our fellow believers. Doubt doesn’t have to be something we fear, because if even John the Baptist had major doubts in his journey, it’s safe to say that we probably will too. Instead, we can encourage Christians to be open about their uncertainties, knowing that they are a natural part of our faith journey. For most Christians I know, myself included, doubts have ultimately played a key role in strengthening our faith by acting as an invitation to investigate and understand what one really believes and why. If we treat doubt appropriately and make sure to imitate Jesus in building up our brothers and sisters when they’re struggling, crises of faith can turn into catalysts of faith.

In the months following that Christmas Eve service, I was able to work through my doubts thanks to the help of many wonderful Christian mentors. However, I would be lying if I said they didn’t return frequently. Life is weird and messy, and just about anything in a pandemic can cause you to feel uncertain. Remarkably, I no longer fear doubt. Just like with John, regardless of circumstances, I can take comfort in looking to the very real things that Jesus said and did in the world and be at peace knowing that at the end of the day, Jesus still is the Christ. He still died and overcame the grave for us. He still is Lord, and He still loves us.

FOOTNOTES:

1 Matthew 11:3 ESV

2 John 3:29 ESV

3 Matthew 11: 5-6 ESV

4 Evans, Craig A. Fabricating Jesus: How Modern Scholars Distort the Gospels. IVP, 2007. 

5 Matthew 11:11 ESV

6 Russell, Moore. “Real Christian Courage Looks like Elijah at His Most Pathetic.” Christianity Today, 18 Mar. 2021.

Andrew Nachamkin ’24 is a prospective Statistics major at Williams College. From Cold Spring, NY, he enjoys theater, basketball, and reading on his Kindle.