Thessaloniki

Hamilton. 

The population of the second largest town in Greece is similar to that of Hamilton, Ontario. So I should not have been surprised that the city was similar in size and feel.  With no intended offense to Hamiltonians whose city is going through something of a spiritual renaissance, Thessalonica has all of the trappings of the Hamilton of my youth -- congestion, smog, traffic chaos, a harbour, a downtown centering on a square (Jackson's in Hamilton, Aristotelous in Thessaloniki).  

We stayed in an inexpensive hotel north of the city, on the mountain, in a forest, Hamiltonian equivalent might be Mt.Hope, especially since we were relatively close to the airport.  The hotel was quiet, it being off-season and the economy of Greece being in world-attention-getting dire straits.  

Thessaloniki was mostly a place to stay, knowing that our real reason for being up in Macedonia was to visit Philippi on the day between our two night stays in Thessaloniki.  Our excellent guide book, A Guide to Biblical Sites in Greece and Turkey by Clyde E. Fant and Mitchell G. Reddish, reminded us that there were no particular artifacts related to Paul's journey to Thessaloniki, but there were things to learn anyway.  

We had a free shuttle from the hotel to the center of town, dropping us off at the Platieu Hagios Sophias (St. Sophia Square).  We had three hours to take pictures and have dinner.  We found an outdoor cafe off the Aristotelous Square where we had Gyros and then went touring.  

The most visible monument was the Arch of Galerius from the 300s (A.D.) and the rotuda just up what was supposed to be named Odos Apostolou Paulus (Apostle Paul Street), except that the street was no longer named this.  

The Rotuda, which had been renamed by locals to 'St. George' after the tiny church beside it was a picture of contrasts.  First, the Rotuda, a massive round ancient building surrounded by wrought iron fencing barring everyone (except the scads of neighborhood cats) from entering in.  Surrounding the fenced area was a broad sidewalk, populated by hordes of vendors, selling shoes, jewelry and watches.  Around them, nearly every possible surface (except the actual facade of St. George Church, was smeared with graffiti.  In fact, the entire area was a disheartening mix of red brick and black spray paint.  Even in the midst of building which urge a posture of awe toward the God of history and of beauty and of impulses which create the religious institutions like St. George Church, the heart of many is to destroy, deface, and make ignoble that which is otherwise noble.  

Before catching the shuttle back to the hotel, we had time to do a bit of shopping.  Greece being the home of Greek Orthodoxy, it was not surprising to find a little shop that sold all things religious, especially books and icons.  We looked at a few things, finally making two small purchases, and the young salesman eagerly added two 'freebies' to my bag - plastic card icons of St. Demetrius.  Of course, my Reformed theological reflexes kicked in when he gave me the card.  I wanted to tell him that St. Demetrius was no more a saint than I was, that it didn't matter at all what Demetrius had done or what I had done, but rather, ONLY what Christ had done.  I wanted to say all this, but I held back, bagged my merchandise, and walked out of the store.  

And then it hit me.  Or maybe HE hit me.  With the overwhelmingly gracious truth.  Those hoodlums who had taken black spray paint to the Rotuda and to Hadrian's Arch were just as worthy recipients of God's grace as I am.  That this whole Hamilton-like city of inhabitants was still on God's "I love you whether you know it or not" list.  Yeah, there was, and still is, a lot to learn.