Reaching Our Cities with the Gospel in a New Language
The following is an excerpt from an interview with pastor Giotis Kantartzis on City to City’s How to Reach the West Again podcast. In the discussion, Kantartzis discusses the unique challenges and opportunities of evangelism in a country caught in the crossroads between secularism and nationalistic religious belief.
BRANDON J. O'BRIEN: Part of your education was in the U.S.—Gordon-Conwell—and then some of it was in Athens, Greece. Is that right? Can you tell us a little about your background there?
GIOTIS KANTARTZIS: Yes, I studied sociology at university in Athens at the same time I was attending a Protestant school in Athens, the Greek Bible College. I knew I wanted to be a full-time minister, but I decided that I needed to study something besides theology. I was not quite sure as to what that would be, but I chose sociology. And in a way, my background in sociology has helped me tackle the type of questions we're about to discuss and try to interpret the hermeneutics of the culture, which is also a vital part of what we are supposed to do as pastors.
Besides those studies, I received my M.Div. from Gordon-Conwell in the U.S., in Boston, then did a Th.M. in Hebrew Bible at the Boston University School of Theology. I returned to Greece and was pastoring a church while finishing my Ph.D. at the University of Thessaloniki. It is actually important to note that at the time there were only two Divinity departments in the secular universities in Greece, and the other did not accept students who were not Orthodox, even though it was a state university.
BJO: That's capital “O” Orthodox, as in Greek Orthodox?
GK: Exactly. Confessionally Orthodox. So I was accepted to do my Ph.D. at the University of Thessaloniki, which was more open to those students, but even then, students had to take an oath upon graduating to promise to abide by the teachings of the seven ecumenical councils and the teachings of the Eastern Orthodox Church and whatnot. So they had to change the oath, making it more secular.
I know that for you in the United States, secularization is only a bad thing. But if you think about it in my context, secularization meant that I was able, as a Protestant, to study and get my Ph.D. in the Divinity department and maintain my theological identity and integrity. So I think secularization is complex.
BJO: That's a great introduction. One thing that intrigues me about your background is, having studied sociology before theology, then studying in an evangelical institution, then at a non-evangelical Boston university, you seem to have received a more unmediated engagement with secular thought or secular study. How does that affect the way you approach some of these questions about secularization?
GK: I thank God for the decision to do my Th.M. at a secular university like Boston University. I had a wonderful experience, wonderful professors with whom I still have great relationships. But the idea at Gordon-Conwell back then was, "Okay, we all believe in the inspiration of the scriptures. We take for granted that we believe the same things. Now let's do exegesis and not waste time with other questions.” The understanding was that we’d be able to do great work there—learn languages, be equipped with tools, et cetera. Now, many times we do the same thing with culture—even in the way we approach the scriptures, think about theology, and preach, we assume too many things.
When I went to Boston University, all my assumptions were challenged. Now, keep in mind that we're talking almost 30 years ago, but I remember taking this class at the Divinity School at Harvard called New Testament Theologies—plural! This itself was a major assumption, that there is not a unity of scripture. Among the theologies that we were studying was the theology of Thomas. And this was before The DaVinci Code and Dan Brown, so this was intriguing, but I realized that all of my assumptions were being challenged. And so, I always had to swim upstream in that class. I had to read twice as much. First of all, I had to grasp the course material, but then I also had to do the extra work to prove why it was wrong.
I think that is part of the work we aren’t doing today. We believe we all operate under the same assumptions and that we are all eager to just get to the meat of a lesson or discussion. But sometimes we also need to take a step back and first deal with those assumptions. Plus, as you study other viewpoints, it makes you more humble. Many times you think you have all the answers, so it raises the level of your tolerance to ambiguity. It helps you leave some questions in life open-ended. And I think that is part of good preparation.
We believe we all operatE under the same assumptions and that we are all eager to JUST get to the meat of a lesson or discussion. But sometimes we also need to take a step back and first deal with those assumptions.
BJO: You pastor in Athens. From a North American perspective, when we talk about the challenge of evangelism or ministry or cultural engagement, we think about a culture that is now secularizing after having been predominantly Protestant for a few hundred years, but the situation there is very different. You've already mentioned that there are secularizing tendencies in Greece, but how is the starting point different?
GK: First, let me challenge even what you just said about the United States, because that is, again, an assumption. Let's say the reality in South Carolina, for instance, may not work exactly the way you describe it. In some ways, our situation in Athens may be close to that of some parts of the U.S. And I would point out that there are generalizations that are still important; we cannot analyze things without generalizations. But at the same time, I think we all need to keep in mind and be aware of the complexity of issues.
Now, what is our context? Greece is a Greek Orthodox country in the southeastern part of Europe. Some people think Europe is like a big country—it is, and it is not. You can cut the continent vertically and horizontally. You have northern and southern Europe with economic factors that differentiate the two. And then you have western and eastern Europe if you make a vertical line. Greece is in the southeast, which is the worst of all cases. We are in an in-between space; we are a country in transition, as are several other countries in that area.
There is an emblem in a flag that was used in Byzantium: a two-headed eagle looking in different directions. Interestingly enough, that epitomizes Greece. It is a country and a culture that looks both ways, east and west at the same time. This, again, is a testimony to the complexity of issues.
There is an emblem in a flag that was used in Byzantium: a two-headed eagle looking in different directions. Interestingly enough, that epitomizes Greece. It is a country and a culture that looks both ways, east and west at the same time.
As for the religious landscape, as I said, the nation is primarily Greek Orthodox. Evangelical Protestants in Greece—and in most countries in the Southern Balkans—are a minority. This can mean different things; being a minority in the U.K. is different than being a minority in Greece, which is different than being a minority in Afghanistan or in Iraq. The culture gives a totally different meaning to the understanding of “minority.” So this gives rise to another important aspect, which is that religion in Greece is not simply a personal choice or something to fulfill your spiritual quest. Religion is part of your national heritage and identity. It’s something you are born into. If you're a Greek born into a Greek family and you're baptized in the Church, you're already Greek Orthodox.
So what does this mean, being part of a Greek minority in that context? How does that affect the way you do evangelism, for example?
One of the main differences between Eastern Orthodoxy and Protestantism is ecclesiology. I think that at the end of the day, even considering the Catholic Church, the most important difference and the number-one obstacle, so to speak, has to do with ecclesiology: the definition of what and who the church is.
As Protestants, I would say we have a generous ecclesiology. The separation between the visible and invisible church was necessary for Luther and the magisterial reformers to make sense of who we are, and it means we are born into plurality. This distinction can be problematic, but it also gives us greater ecclesiological generosity. We have the theological equipment and context to say, “Of course the Orthodox Church is a Christian Church. Of course the Orthodox can be a true Christian and go to heaven.” But ecclesiologically speaking, a Greek Orthodox cannot say that of me, a Protestant. Especially if one is baptized as an infant in the Orthodox Church, he or she already belongs to a church. Evangelizing to those in this context is like stealing, in a way—I'm going into your church and taking people to my church. That creates a unique dynamic in the way we do evangelism. We need to deal with this negative perception of evangelists before we start getting to the content of evangelism.
BJO: Can you elaborate on the idea of religious identity being so closely connected with ethnic and national identity? For instance, someone in Rome could be entirely secular in their mindset, could be atheist in their religious conviction, but would still consider themselves Catholic and would therefore consider converting or identifying as evangelical to be not just a matter of a religious shift in alliance, but almost like a betrayal of family, nation, and ethnicity. Do you have a similar sort of dynamic at work in Greece?
GK: Yes, it's one of the commonalities. Of course, there are different historical reasons why the connection happens between national identity and religion. In our case, Greece and all of the Southern Balkan countries used to be part of what was called Byzantium before the Ottoman occupation. Back then it was more ecumenical; national distinctions were not really that important. All would have identified themselves as Christians against Islam, against the Turks, and against the Ottomans. After the Ottoman occupation and after the first World War, this Western influence of nationalism began. There became two focuses in creating the narrative of a newly nationalistic country, one being the ancient heritage, the other being religion.
There was a wave of what are called the autocephalous churches, meaning in English “the same head,” or “self-governed” churches. You have the Greek Orthodox Church, the Bulgarian Orthodox Church, the Serbian Orthodox Church, the north Macedonian Orthodox Church, the Romanian Orthodox Church—you even have three Ukrainian Orthodox Churches, and so on. On top of this, in Orthodox churches outside of these countries, you have more than one of these churches in the community with a Greek Orthodox bishop, an Armenian Orthodox bishop, a Serbian Orthodox bishop, et cetera. Supposedly, there needs to be only one bishop, but you can see how nationality plays a role.
It's exactly as you said, though, about identity. Being Orthodox may not mean anything at all to a person spiritually, but it is still part of their identity. For this reason, we should be careful to generalize Europe as totally secularized. Faith and religion still do matter, but there is a different context of secularization.
We should be careful to generalize Europe as totally secularized. Faith and religion still do matter, but there is a different context of secularization.
A famous European philosopher, Slavoj Zizek, tells this joke about an atheist man who is a physicist. This man has a horseshoe in his cabin. Another acclaimed physicist visits the man and says to him, "What is this? Do you believe in those things?" And he says, "No, of course not. I'm an atheist. But horseshoes work whether you believe in them or not." He says that as a joke about ideology, that sometimes, there are things that we don't know that we know.
Grace Davie, a British sociologist who actually gave a talk at a City to City conference in Paris, brings this idea about vicarious religiosity. For our context in Greece, some people may think, "I don't go to church. I don't care about religion. But it is important to me that there is a church operating, that there are monks in the monasteries praying, and all of that still happening." This again makes it a complex matter that we should consider when we talk about secularization.
BJO: I think this phenomenon of relating ethnic identity, national identity, and religion is not uncommon in certain parts of the U.S., as you've already mentioned. Maybe it’s more common in more urban places or smaller towns, where someone may not necessarily consider themselves a Christian by theological conviction, but by all external rituals of participation still continues to see the value of religion.
As we're talking about something like the rise of secularism in Europe, this kind of person presents an interesting challenge in the narrative that we tell about a secularizing society.
GK: Again, when we think about the West, it's a more rational, intellectual approach to faith. Faith in that context has to do with consent, that I understand what is going on, I agree with it, and I accept it. In the East, at least in the Greek Orthodox context, a friend of mine describes it like this: it's a world of gestures. You cross yourself, you bow down, you kiss the icon, you smell the incense. I think there are a lot of people who, if you pressed them about it and asked, "Does it really mean something to you?" would say "no.” But interestingly enough, for some reason, it is easier for them to maintain these kinds of rituals.
As you said, this is a very interesting challenge because we may think that means their experience of faith is inauthentic. As Jesus said in Matthew, “They worship me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me" (Matt. 15:8). Especially as part of our Protestant heritage, the freedom of the Christian, the genuine motive of the Christian, is huge—that it doesn't just matter what you do, but it's very important to know why you are doing it.
At the same time, I think we shouldn’t discard this sort of nominalist or ritualistic understanding of faith so easily. These people still have the horseshoe, so to speak. And I wonder whether that is something that we totally discard or something that we can build on or take into consideration when we think about religion.
BJO: If someone's identity is connected with a sort of latent religiosity and ethnic or national identity, with rituals and rhythms that are native to them, how does one go from that to the gospel of Jesus? How do you walk people to Jesus from where they are in the context of Athens?
GK: That's a great question. I would say there's no one answer because God works in our hearts in different ways. We do have people who come out of that mindset and simply say, “I'm liberated from the misconceptions of this ritualistic understanding,” which is great. But others are harder to reach. Another concept Grace Davie advocated is the idea that in the secular West, you have the phenomenon of believing without belonging. You have people who distrust religion and the church but don’t necessarily distrust spiritual matters, so they still believe. This is believing without belonging. Now, I would call cultural Christianity or nominal Christianity a lot of people who belong without believing. They belong, but they don't necessarily believe in whatever we want them to believe.
We should definitely not be satisfied with that; we don't want them to remain there. But I think there may be a variation of that where we could consider talking about belonging before believing or belonging as a step to believing. I think that works well in a context like ours, but it may be a good strategy in general, as well.
I think there may be a variation of that where we could consider talking about belonging before believing or belonging as a step to believing.
For the Orthodox Church, salvation is something that happens in and through the church. As Protestants, with our heritage of several awakenings and preachers like George Whitefield, we developed the idea that authentic evangelism happens outside the church. For Whitefield specifically, the reason he preached outside the church is because the church kicked him out. While that shouldn't be the case and definitely isn’t the case today, we inherited this idea that evangelism needs to happen “out there.” Then, after you believe out there, you join a church. That is believing before belonging.
This is a clear-cut distinction, but I would be more open to the idea of letting people belong before believing. Let people belong. Let people come. Let people participate.
Several years ago, I remember we had a difficult decision to make as a board of elders whether we should allow a gentleman to take part in communion. He was a self-proclaimed atheist, but he came to church every Sunday, sang the songs, listened to the sermon—even cried sometimes—and now he wanted to take part in communion. So, we had a difficult decision to make. We might have said, “You know what, you are close to being able to take communion, but you need to think about your beliefs and make a decision.” That is one solution, and it may be the best or the true way. The other option was to let him partake and see how that works in his life, how the Holy Spirit will work. I would argue that we need to rediscover the language of gestures in our Protestant tradition because we tend to be cerebral.
Let me also add another aspect about apologetics: I think it's worth remembering that the main thrust of the ecclesiastical fathers’ apologetics had to do with Christians’ way of life. In their apologetic work, these church fathers don’t defend ideas—they explain why we live as we do. That's why I'm convinced that church planting is an important tool. People need to have the opportunity to belong to a community where they can see a different lifestyle—a community that will act as a good apology of the gospel and lead them to a decision or a change of life.
BJO: Your comment about apologetics focusing on the lives of Christians reminded me of Wendell Berry, an American author who's a Christian. He mentions in his writing that when he was a child, he was very bad at sitting still in church and hated going to school. Then he read The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn and felt a comforting sense of precedent that made his life imaginable.
I thought it was an interesting way to say that he felt like he didn't quite fit within the expectations of the community that raised him, but then he found this story of Huckleberry Finn and found himself in it—found someone he resonated with. And as we consider the concept of belonging before believing, we might approach it in a similar way. Somehow, the Christian community could make life imaginable in a different way for those who belong but don’t yet believe.
GK: Even theologically, it's a powerful argument. In 2 Corinthians, it says if someone is in Christ, he's a new creation. The old has gone. And what about our hope in Jesus? We may talk about it, we may proclaim it, but at the end of the day, someone may ask, “What should I believe about being a new, restored creation in Jesus Christ?” And I think the most profound argument would be to say to them, “Come with me to church and see this new creation in our lives.” I'm not saying we shouldn't think and we shouldn't engage cerebrally—we should. But I'm saying that there are also some other aspects which are very important.
Coming back to the discussion of European differences, a significant one is that the Eastern part of Europe, which tends to be primarily Orthodox, has not experienced all of these huge waves of intellectual challenges that took place in the West. For instance, the Enlightenment, the Renaissance, the Reformation—all these things which largely explain what we call modernity—have not occurred in this region. So even though we now engage with modernity, we don't have the same intellectual preparation or historical roots.
In Greece, since Protestant Christianity only makes up 0.3% of the population, the majority of Greek Orthodox persons are suspicious. And part of this suspicion is that this religion is an imported American cult. This is thought not only in the East, but also in Italy, Spain, Portugal, and so on. So, we must think carefully about how to emphasize the historicity and the catholicity of our church. We are not a newly emerged cult imported from the United States, but we have great roots and tradition and history. In Greece, history is a very powerful argument. It is not a rational argument, but it plays a very significant role.
BJO: Let me ask you one more question. As we try to better understand the dynamics of growing secularism in Western culture and how to engage it, what are the consequences of over-relying on the generalizations about Western culture not paying attention to the particular challenges, histories, and sensibilities in the neighborhood or area our actual church resides? How could local sensibilities be significantly different from some of these wider trends we're addressing?
GK: Let me give you a personal example. When I first started reading Tim Keller's articles, I was fascinated by this whole idea of contextualization. We take this idea for granted now, but 30 years ago it was pretty radical. And the temptation is always to copy. So here I am in the center of Athens, trying to mimic Tim Keller, talking about postmodernism and secularism and all of that, and I have this moment of epiphany. I stop and say to myself, “What am I doing? I'm totally losing it. What is the principle behind what I’m saying?” So you need to study your context and try to really see its particular challenges and try to address them. We all want the recipe that works, but it doesn’t work like that. You have to make up your own recipe, which is very difficult.
You need to study your context and try to really see its particular challenges and try to address them. We all want the recipe that works, but it doesn’t work like that. You have to make up your own recipe, which is very difficult.
I have to start with an understanding of Greek orthodoxy and theology and practice if I want to be a good pastor in the center of Athens. I need to better understand my context. I need to learn the language. And that may not be the exact same language I know and am fluent in.
This is where a key feature of Protestantism is helpful: its flexibility and adaptability. No matter where you are in the world, members of the Greek Orthodox may dress up in a similar attire whether they’re in Korea or Nigeria. It's a set thing; you cannot change it. But Protestantism can take as many faces as there are cultures, and that's a good thing. I think that is a great genius of Protestantism, this adaptability that we should use in a wise and proper way. We don't have to mimic the American way here in Athens. We need to find our own way, to find our own language to communicate the gospel so that people can really grasp it and understand it.
About the Author
Pastor of the First Greek Evangelical Church, a historic Presbyterian church in the center of Athens, Giotis Kantartzis leads a church planting movement called “Polis” (or, “city” in Ancient Greek). Giotis studied sociology at the University of Athens and theology (Mdiv, MSTH and PhD) at Gordon Conwell Theological Seminary, Boston University, and the University of Thessaloniki. He and his wife Nopie have been married nearly 30 years and are parents of three sons: George, Theophilos, and Jason.