Greece: Day 10

As we travel to our final destination city, Chania, I admire the Aegean coastline with the mountains off to our left.  We are at that point where we know the end is near and reflections are inevitable concerning what has transpired and what are some of the many lessons learned.  I feel extremely fortunate to have made this journey and to travel with such knowledgeable guides.  The wealth of information that we received is overwhelming, but I hope that continued reflection will keep some of it alive.  It surely will find its way into theological reflection, teaching, and general global—economic, religious, social, and cultural—thinking.  The opportunity to take time and see the various historical sites, to hear the stories behind this culture and its role in shaping the world that we know today, and the chance to soak up the natural beauty is a blessing. 

During one of our early visits in Olympia (or was it Delphi? the Acropolis museum?), our guide, Sophia, made the simple, yet profound, remark concerning the mythologies of Greece that they express the tension within us as humans and as societies.  The beauty we can create along with the destruction we can mete out; the ingenuity that builds spectacular structures that continue thousands of years after they are built and the hubris that can bring such  structures to ruin; the hospitality and egalitarian cultures that express such grace-filled aspects of our being and the fear that drives people to squash such kindness and develop rigid hierarchies that rule but do not add to life; and the inevitable searching and striving of humans to know and to discover and to be more than they are and the Achilles heel that is that same searching and striving beyond the important boundaries of who we are. 

The truth is that we continue to wrestle with these tensions (and the others that exist within our individual or collective psyches), and we are wise, it seems to me, to continue to place ourselves in the midst of these experiences and discussions that force us to consider the “other” and the other side (or sides) of what we experience.  We will not create a utopia where everyone agrees (nor do we really want that, I suspect).  If we can develop places where we respect the voice of the other, and we welcome the discussions on easy and difficult issues that we face, seeing this as our contribution to the story—dare I say myth—that has been echoing down the millennia, perhaps we will be a little better in the long run.  King has certainly embraced this notion and challenged those on the trip to think beyond themselves, while also finding their place within the larger conversation. 

I like to think that the Church, at its best, is a similar institution.  Rooted in the belief that all possess the imprint of the divine—the Imago Dei—we can’t help but enter the conversation with the other from a place of respect and honor that reality within ourselves at the same time.  The disagreements and difficult conversations and engagements continue, however we hopefully are living a bit more of the presence of God when we participate with grace, flexibility, mercy, and courage. The gift, ultimately, is not arriving at an absolute truth.  As the Greeks would know and could tell you, it’s the journey.