Sing, Muse, the rage of Achilles, Black and murderous, that cost the Greeks Incalculable pain, pitched countless souls Of heroes into Hades' dark, And left their bodies to rot as feasts For dogs and birds, as Zeus' will was done. - Homer, The Illiad, Book I: 1-6
So begins the founding work of the western canon of literature. We tend to think of the Illiad (if at all!) as a story about the downfall of the Trojan civilization, or, maybe a moral cautionary tale about the consequences of unbridled romantic ambitions toward a woman already spoken for. But Homer’s Illiad begins, in media res, with a man who has lost control. Here is the actual core to the epic: the hero Achilles. In search of immortal glory, the warrior has lost his world’s most cherished possession – his friend Patroclus – and the demigodly power he wields finds a new focus in apocalyptic revenge. His violent fury is what moves the action of the West’s first great epic to its dramatic conclusion and the eventual founding of the Roman empire. All that to say, one desperate man can do a lot of damage.
It’s all here: the violent rage of a man losing control; the unchangeable plan of a deity whose will is even more absolute; the witness who can only testify in awe of what’s been seen. And these are also the movements of Acts 4, which we’ll be looking at this Sunday. The man born lame from birth bounds around the Temple, an innocent leaping deer that just don’t mind no fences. And the gatekeepers know that this is a sign that the system supporting their security is crumbling before their eyes. What’s our natural response when our idols catch fire? We rage. And so, those Temple authorities seize Peter and John and try all they can to suppress the threat. All the while these witnesses, inspired and indwelt by the Greatest of Muses, can merely testify to the will of a sovereign King whose firstborn Son, unlike unlucky Hector, simply refused to stay dead.
It seems so fitting to invoke tales of old as we welcome back our Senior Pastor, Jim, from his four-month sabbatical this weekend. I have often referred to him as a man of legend; a hero of old. I’m certain that you will hear many a yarn spun over the next several weeks about how all that went, and I trust you will be as delighted and inspired as I always am by his arresting presence. And thank you all for the kindness you’ve shown our whole staff as we’ve labored in his absence. Now, let’s look ahead to what’s next!