There aren't many occasions in life when you find yourself playing blackjack with a Catholic priest, but apparently, a pilgrimage to Greece is one of them. Somewhere along the way, during our Footsteps of St. Paul pilgrimage, I found myself and several others, taking Fr. Bernard to a casino in Thessaloniki. It certainly wasn't the part of the itinerary I had spent years studying, but it turned into one of those unexpected memories that make a trip memorable. And, honestly, there ain't nothing quite like playing blackjack with a priest!
That moment probably says something about the pilgrimage as a whole. It was a trip centered on faith, Scripture, history, and the life of St. Paul, but it was also a chance to laugh, enjoy the company of others, and experience a country I had never visited before. Sometimes we get so caught up in what we think a religious experience is supposed to look like that we forget there is room for the ordinary, unexpected, and downright funny moments, too.I've been home from Greece for about three weeks now, and I've had quite a few people ask me about the trip. What was the country like? Did I enjoy the food? What did I see? Was it everything I expected? The answer to all of those questions is yes. Greece was beautiful, the food was wonderful, and I had an incredible time. What I've noticed, though, is that very few people have asked me what I was actually doing there. I think most people assumed I went on vacation, and while there was certainly some vacation mixed in, I wasn't simply visiting Greece to see the sights.
I went on a pilgrimage.
More specifically, I traveled with 206 Tours on the Footsteps of St. Paul pilgrimage to learn more about the Apostle, the places where he ministered, and the world in which he lived and spread the Gospel. It was an opportunity to take something I had spent years studying in books and classrooms and encounter it in the places where the history actually happened.
This trip also held a particular significance because it took place during my first year as a Catholic. When I began writing this series, A Year in the Life of a Catholic: Navigating Faith, I wanted to be honest about what it meant to enter the Catholic Church after spending most of my life as a Protestant. I knew there would be plenty to learn, traditions to understand, and questions to work through. What I didn't necessarily anticipate was that one of the experiences that would shape this first year would involve walking through ancient Greece with a Bible in my hand.
For those who have followed my writing over the years, my interest in this pilgrimage probably isn't surprising. I hold a Master's degree in Biblical Studies, spent time as a Methodist pastoral candidate, and have devoted a considerable portion of my life to studying Scripture and theology. My journey through Christianity has taken a few turns along the way, including my eventual conversion to Catholicism, but my interest in biblical history and the early Church didn't begin when I became Catholic. I've been reading, studying, questioning, and occasionally arguing with Paul for a very long time.
I should probably clarify that last part. I still have disagreements with Paul, and becoming Catholic didn't suddenly make every passage in his letters easier for me to understand or agree with. I don't think faith requires me to pretend that every question I've ever had has disappeared. In fact, one of the things I've appreciated about my journey into the Catholic Church is the opportunity to continue asking questions while learning to understand the faith within a different tradition. I went to Greece with all of that history and all of those questions still very much intact.
What I hadn't fully anticipated was how different it would feel to encounter the places I had spent so many years studying.
Seeing the world Paul knew
One of the things that struck me throughout the pilgrimage was the sheer depth of Greek history. We tend to group thousands of years together when we talk about Ancient Greece, Ancient Rome, biblical times, and the early Church, but those periods didn't all happen at once. Visiting the archaeological sites made those distinctions much more tangible.
At Delphi, we visited the archaeological site associated with the Temple of Apollo and learned about the Oracle. Greek mythology is something most of us have encountered in school, whether we remember much of it or not. We recognize the names of the gods and know at least a few of the stories, but standing in a place where people actually worshipped those gods gives the subject a different perspective. These weren't simply interesting characters in ancient stories. Their temples, religious practices, and beliefs were part of everyday life for the people who lived there.
This was the religious world that Christianity entered as it began spreading throughout the region. The people Paul encountered already had established religious traditions and ways of understanding the world. That reality is easy to acknowledge when studying the New Testament, but seeing the remains of those religious institutions made it considerably more immediate.
Athens offered another opportunity to appreciate the passage of time. I had studied the Acropolis and the Agora before, and I understood their historical and cultural significance. But standing there and looking at the structures themselves was an entirely different experience. The Acropolis was built in the fifth century BCE, which means it was already centuries old when Paul visited Athens. The people who constructed those buildings belonged to a world that existed long before Paul was born.
I found myself paying particular attention to the dates throughout the trip. We would visit a site, hear about its history, and then I would start doing the historical math in my head. Hadrian's Gate in Athens, for example, was built around 132–134 AD. Paul had already been dead for decades by then. The Acropolis, on the other hand, had been standing for centuries before Paul's lifetime. Both are part of what we casually call ancient history, but they represent very different periods.
Coming from the United States, where a building that has survived two or three hundred years is considered remarkably historic, there is something difficult to comprehend about that kind of historical depth. We preserve our old buildings, put historical markers beside them, and make sure people understand their significance, and rightfully so. American history is worth preserving. Greece, however, offers a different perspective on what it means for something to be old. You can stand beside a structure that was already ancient before Christianity existed and then travel to another place where events described in the New Testament unfolded.
Walking through the pages of Acts
Of course, the historical perspective was only part of the reason I went to Greece. The pilgrimage was centered on St. Paul, and visiting the places associated with his ministry brought a different dimension to passages I have read and studied for years.
Philippi was particularly meaningful because of its connection to Lydia. In Acts 16, we read about Paul meeting Lydia, a seller of purple goods, who was among the first converts to Christianity in Europe. She listened to Paul's teaching, was baptized along with her household, and opened her home to Paul and his companions. I've read that passage countless times, but visiting the place associated with Lydia gave me an opportunity to consider the story in a much more tangible way.
We celebrated Mass at St. Lydia's and renewed our baptismal promises. I found that experience especially meaningful because I had entered the Catholic Church only six months earlier. My own reception into the Church had included a profession of faith, Confirmation, and First Communion, and I was still very much in that first year of learning what it meant to live as a Catholic. Being able to renew my baptismal promises in a place connected with one of the earliest Christian converts in Europe brought together the history I had studied and the faith I was now practicing.
Baptism is not simply an event that we remember from the beginning of someone's Christian life. It is the beginning of a sacramental life and an entrance into the Church. For me, standing at St. Lydia's and renewing those promises was a reminder that the faith I had professed at Easter was connected to a much larger history, one that reaches back to the earliest Christian communities. I had spent years studying the early Church, but now I was participating in a Catholic pilgrimage that allowed me to experience some of that history in a very personal way.
Thessaloniki was another important stop. Paul preached there, and two of his letters are addressed to the Christian community in that city. We celebrated Mass with Fr. Bernard, and I found myself thinking about the people who first received those letters. The Church we belong to today is connected to communities that existed nearly two thousand years ago. Sometimes we talk about the early Church as though it were a separate chapter in Christian history, something that happened a long time ago and eventually gave way to the Church we know today. But those early Christians weren't practicing a different religion. They were part of the same developing Christian tradition that has continued through the centuries.
That continuity is something I have come to appreciate about Catholicism. It doesn't mean that everything about the Church has remained unchanged throughout history. Anyone who has studied Church history knows that isn't the case. But there is something remarkable about recognizing that the faith I profess today has roots in communities Paul actually knew, and that the Church's history isn't simply something I study from the outside. It is part of the story I now belong to.
We also visited Berea, where Acts 17 tells us the people received Paul's teaching eagerly and examined the Scriptures to determine whether what he was saying was true. I particularly enjoyed that connection because examining Scripture, asking questions, and checking what someone tells me against the actual text have been habits throughout my life. I've always appreciated the Bereans for that reason. They weren't being asked to accept something simply because someone stood in front of them and preached it. They took the time to examine the Scriptures for themselves, and I think there is something important in that example.
Corinth, Paul, and a familiar passage in a different setting
Corinth was another place I had been looking forward to visiting. Anyone who has spent much time studying the New Testament knows that Corinth occupies a considerable amount of Paul's attention. His letters address divisions, disagreements, sexual morality, worship, spiritual gifts, and a whole host of other issues. In other words, the Corinthians apparently kept Paul quite busy.
Walking through ancient Corinth, I found myself thinking about the people who received those letters. They weren't imaginary congregations or theological examples invented to make a point. They were actual people living in a particular city, trying to understand what it meant to follow Christ. Their questions and struggles were shaped by the society around them, and Paul's responses were written to address those particular circumstances.
We visited the Bema, the judgment seat associated with Paul's appearance before Gallio in Acts 18. Seeing the location helped connect the account in Acts with the historical setting in which it took place. It is one thing to read about Paul being brought before a Roman official; it is another to stand in the city where that encounter occurred and consider the political and social structures that shaped his ministry.
One of my favorite moments in Corinth was hearing Evi read 1 Corinthians 13 in Koine Greek. I have studied the language and spent years working with the original text of the New Testament, so hearing that passage read in the language in which Paul wrote it was particularly meaningful. Most people recognize 1 Corinthians 13 as the love chapter. It is read at weddings, quoted in sermons, and used to remind us what Christian love should look like. Those are all familiar associations, but hearing it in Greek while standing in Corinth brought together two parts of my life that have often existed separately: my academic study of Scripture and my lived experience of faith.
It also reminded me that Paul's letters were originally correspondence sent to particular communities, not chapters in a completed Bible. The Corinthians were trying to work through the challenges of living as Christians in their own city. That doesn't answer every question about Paul's theology, but it does help explain why the issues he addressed mattered so much to the people receiving his letters.
Athens offered a similar opportunity to reconsider a familiar passage. Acts 17 records Paul's encounter with the people of Athens, including his reference to an altar dedicated to an unknown god. I've always found that passage interesting from an academic perspective because of the way Paul approaches his audience. He begins with something they already recognize and uses it as a starting point to introduce them to the God they do not yet know. His audience was familiar with philosophy and religious discussion, and Paul was speaking within a culture that had a well-established intellectual and religious identity.
I didn't climb Mars Hill during the trip, but seeing the Acropolis and the Agora gave me a greater appreciation for the setting in which that encounter took place. It was an opportunity to connect a passage I knew well with the city in which Paul delivered that speech.
Experiencing the pilgrimage as a Catholic
There is another part of this trip that I don't want to overlook. This was my first pilgrimage as a Catholic, and that changed the way I experienced some of these places. I've traveled before and visited churches, historical sites, museums, and places of religious significance. My academic background has taken me into the history of Christianity in ways I've always enjoyed. But a pilgrimage is different from simply visiting a historical location because the experience involves more than learning about what happened there.
Throughout the trip, we had opportunities to celebrate Mass, pray together, reflect on Scripture, and visit places connected to the early Church. I was no longer approaching these locations solely as someone studying the development of Christianity. I was also approaching them as a member of the Catholic Church, participating in a tradition whose history I had spent years examining from a Protestant perspective.
That distinction matters to me, particularly because my conversion wasn't the result of suddenly discovering that Christianity had a history or that the Catholic Church existed. I had studied Catholicism, read its arguments, questioned its teachings, and spent years considering the relationship between Scripture and tradition. I didn't arrive at the Church without questions, and I haven't stopped asking them since becoming Catholic. What has changed is the perspective from which I am now learning and experiencing the faith.
There is something different about celebrating Mass in a place connected to the earliest Christian communities, especially when you consider how much time separates those communities from the Church we know today. The people who gathered to worship in Philippi or Thessaloniki could never have imagined the historical sites their communities would eventually become. They were simply trying to live their faith, just as Catholics around the world are doing today. The circumstances are different, the cultures are different, and the language of the liturgy has changed over the centuries, but the connection between those early communities and the Church today is not merely an academic idea to me anymore.
I also appreciated the opportunity to experience the pilgrimage alongside other Catholics. Traveling with a group creates its own kind of community, particularly when the days involve long bus rides, historical sites, shared meals, Mass, and plenty of conversation. There was time for serious reflection, but there was also laughter and the ordinary experiences that come with traveling together. The casino in Thessaloniki was certainly one of those unexpected experiences, and I suspect it will remain one of the stories I tell whenever someone asks about the trip.
I don't think becoming Catholic means setting aside the parts of my life that came before. My academic background, my years as a Protestant, my questions about Scripture, and my interest in the history of Christianity are all part of the journey that brought me here. Greece gave me an opportunity to bring those experiences together with the Catholic faith I am now living, and I found that particularly valuable during this first year.
What I brought home
I don't want to give the impression that this pilgrimage resolved all of my questions about Paul, Christianity, or the early Church. It didn't, and I wouldn't expect it to. I still have theological disagreements with Paul, I still have questions about certain passages, and I still enjoy examining the historical and linguistic details that can make biblical discussions considerably more complicated than people sometimes prefer. Visiting the places associated with his ministry didn't change the text or eliminate the questions I have about it. What it did was give me a greater appreciation for the people and places behind the letters.
When I look back on the trip, I realize that I went to Greece expecting to learn more about St. Paul, and I certainly did. I also came away with a renewed appreciation for the historical continuity of the Church and a deeper connection between the academic study of Scripture and my own life of faith. The people Paul wrote to were not characters in a religious story. They were people trying to navigate life and faith in the communities where they lived, and visiting those places helped me remember that the history of Christianity is ultimately a history of people.
So, when people ask whether I enjoyed Greece, the answer is absolutely yes. It was beautiful, educational, occasionally exhausting, and full of experiences I will remember for a very long time. But I hope they also understand that I didn't simply go to see some old buildings, take photographs, and enjoy a change of scenery. I went to learn more about the man whose letters I have spent years studying, to visit the communities that shaped the early Church, and to experience some of that history as a Catholic.
As I continue navigating my first year in the Church, I suspect I will find myself returning to this pilgrimage in my thoughts more often than I realize. I didn't come home with fewer questions, and I certainly didn't come home having exhausted everything there is to learn about Paul or the early Church. I came home with a greater appreciation for the history behind the Scriptures and for the faith that connects those early Christian communities to the Church I now call my own. That, more than anything, is what made this pilgrimage meaningful to me.
Comments
Post a Comment