When in Athens

Make the most of every opportunity

When in Athens,

You are in the birthplace of the west. You see how your country brags about what this city did several centuries ago. You are immersed in the complexity of history, the beauty of antiquity, and the humility of not knowing where you are, where you are going, or how you’ll get to wherever there is. You took long enough to step outside your world, or, rather, your slice of the world; three decades in fact. And yet, conversely, you are glad to be wise enough to know how much of a gift it is to be lost in a foreign place built for you to tour with ease.

When in Athens,

You walked in the steps of those whose thoughts still inform your thoughts, your family’s thoughts, and all of your friends’ thoughts. It amazes you that what you saw at first on paper in a book then on a screen in your pocket is now in front of your very eyes. You are confounded that philosophers several thousands of years long dead still have a mark on what you know even now. You see, however, that the world is more than what you think. The world, you realize, is meant to be felt in the body, not only seen with the eyes. You recognize that Google is knowledge but experience is wisdom. You see how it is mere coincidence that your language culturally matters more than others. You might take for granted the world’s required understanding of your language and you choose, when possible, to understand the language of those who now host you. You see how small you are and how big this world is; you know this now as fact where before it was theoretical.

When in Athens,

You could contribute to the FOMO machine but opt to share your sights with a select few. You pull out your phone to capture streets, signposts, and surroundings yet feel it unnecessary to show to strangers called followers. You desire to bestow only what would bring curiosity, not envy. You know many have traveled here before but you also know many others never will. You hold both of these and choose not to judge anyone as much as you can help it. Mostly, you capture moments and memories with a loved one, your loved one, who is the most important friend, follower, and subscriber you will ever have.

When in Athens,

You embark on an unpacking of your faith. You see a world dominated by a different flavor of your same Savior. You walk through a museum displaying the culture shifting from temples and columns to Eucharists and icons. You marvel at once was, and in some places still is. You epiphanize (you create a new word) that your own country’s version of dominant religion is far more informed by the country than the religion. You recognize the power of liturgy, of place, and of generations of faith. You grasp that tradition is not your country’s religious problem but perhaps its solution. You ascended to the rock where an apostle you struggled with all of your life humbly but boldly proclaimed the Good News, respected his audience, and impacted the direction of an entire people group. You respect him as a human in a new way, and still try to untangle the ways in which your religious tradition overly reveres him. You learn that for the illiterate person a thousand years ago, an icon of a loving, dying man was enough theology to last a lifetime.

When in Athens,

You know how you change when in… somewhere else. You also notice how you stay the same. You see that “when in” another place, encounters with God in a fellow human and in nature are common because your normal, egoic sense of self is utterly useless when all you want is to know about what is “other.” You accept the blank slate you bring and you no longer present as your personality elicits in your home country. You cling to home now not as a place or region but rather as a human person(s), firstly, your wife, and secondly, your God. You believe Tolkien about wandering; somehow, while wandering, you feel more found. You learn all of these things and will likely learn more,

When in Athens.