After my two-month marathon of grad school this summer, I decided to take a break from the rigors of academia to read Rick Riordan’s popular series: Percy Jackson and the Olympians. I’m a fifth grade teacher, and I try to read children’s books when I can so I'm able to recommend quality literature to my students. But the truth is –I wanted to read this series. For me. And I wasn’t disappointed.
The series is based on the premise that the Olympic gods are alive and well –only now they reside above New York, the major city of the modern world power. And the Olympians, being who they are, of course, have demigod children running around the United States. One of these demigods is the protagonist: Percy Jackson, son of Poseidon. The series follows him from the moment he discovers his true identity to the moment his greatness is ultimately tested in the final battle. The stories are fast-paced, intriguing, and humorous. They are about heroism, honor, and friendship. Read them. I know you’ll love them.
But –as I took the journey with Percy and his gang across the U.S. and under the ocean and through the Labyrinth, I wandered about the profit of reading a book saturated in the mythology of pagan gods. Perhaps I think too much, but this consideration led to more fruitful thoughts. In the end, I found Zeus, Poseidon, Hades, and Co. to be painfully lacking as deity worthy of authentic worship. And I found God even more securely established as the One who is worthy. Not that I expected anything different, but the absurdity of the Olympians as "gods" is laughable.
The books rely heavily on the ancient myths I learned in high school and college. Revisiting them as an adult, the gods of Olympus seemed to be sniveling, spoiled tyrants clearly constructed from the minds of men. They react to the actions of men. They are wooed by the beauty of women. And they are as fickle as, well, as a hormonal woman! They are altogether too human to be divine. In other words, when it came to explaining natural phenomena and all the other mysteries of life through their gods, it is evident that the Greeks only had the faculty of their own minds to do it. They couldn’t create something truly supernatural because they themselves were not supernatural. The Olympians act in ways that make sense to the Greeks because the Greeks were writing the book. They were incapable of thinking beyond that. The Olympians can only be founded in humanity because they are the brainchildren of humans. So, human nature, with a smattering of imaginative, superhuman steroids, is the DNA of the Greek gods.
Compare this to the Bible, and you’ll find Yahweh, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. The sovereign God who does not bend to the actions of insignificant men. The holy God who is supremely righteous. The gracious God who is truly immortal and wise. The merciful God who keeps covenant and steadfast love with His people. This God may not always make sense to our feeble minds, but He does not need to –and I would venture to say, He doesn’t care. I don’t mean to be flippant. God is omniscient. If He deems it wise to reach down and open our eyes so we understand Him better, He will. But He doesn’t have to. He doesn’t owe it to us. Because He is God, and we are not. He need not make sense to humans to be real. Unlike the Olympians, man did not invent Him. Instead, God took the initiative to tell us who He is. God reveals Himself to us in the Bible. Perhaps men held the pen, but God is the author. If a man had created God to be accepted by the rest of humanity, he would have been better off making God a little more understandable, a little less mysterious. The God of the Bible wouldn’t ever win a divinity popularity contest because He simply doesn’t fit into our measly mental boxes. We don’t like what we don’t understand because we can’t control it.
Take, for example, the story of Job. Terrible atrocities were put upon this godly man. Were he Greek, he would have comforted himself in the logical conclusion that Zeus and Hera were having a marital rift. Or Athena was grumpy because of a cold. So he would have tried to make his life better with sacrifices and any other notion that would appease the offended god. Instead, Job humbly proclaims, “Behold, I am of small account; what shall I answer you? I lay my hand on my mouth...I know that you can do all things, and that no purpose of yours can be thwarted...The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed by the name of the Lord” (Job 40:4, 42:2, 1:21b, ESV). Job realizes that God does not owe him an explanation. If He gives him one, that is His loving purpose. If He withholds one, that is His loving purpose. God answers to no man lest He chooses. And we are wise to not try controlling our circumstances with attempts to make them better, but to depend fully on the One who can sustain us in them –rain or shine.
Another difference that struck me in the books is the capriciousness of the Olympians. I briefly mentioned this previously, but I especially want to note this moody vacillation toward the gods' own children. Percy and his demigod friends are always in limbo as to whether or not they are pleasing their Olympic parents –and questioning what sort of catastrophe may occur as a manifestation of their rage if they are not. Now, God is perfectly merciful, gracious, and loving. He is also perfectly righteous and just. If He must exhibit His wrath toward sin as a rightful extension of His righteousness, He has every right to do so. He would not be truly just if He didn’t. But He will not extend that wrath to His children. That is why Christ came. The wrath of God was satisfied in the suffering and death of Jesus Christ. [See 2 Corinthians 5:21 and 1 Peter 2:24.] Those who repent of their sins and believe in that perfect work need never wonder about God’s love toward them. It was purchased, once and for all, by Jesus’ blood. For those repentant souls, God’s wrath was poured out entirely on Christ. There is not even a drop left in the cup.
There was one thing I appreciated about the spirituality of Riordan’s characters. They revere the Olympians. This is particularly expressed through discussions of the gods’ names. When Zeus’s name is mentioned, the sky thunders on cloudless days. Poseidon’s name churns the sea. Percy is often reminded to “be less casual about throwing [the gods’] names around” (The Lightning Thief, page 67). Yet the true God’s name, Jesus’s name, and every variation of the two are glib curse words today. That wasn’t always the case. For the Israelites, speaking the name of Yahweh was in and of itself an act of worship. In fact, we see the reverence of His name directed in the Ten Commandments. Oh, that we would return to that awe and veneration! God’s name is abused in the streets and on TV...and even in the prayers of Christians. His name is not a prayer filler tantamount to “umm” or “uh.” But we use it as such. This whole thought process made me wonder why the names of other gods aren’t used as curse words. You never hear someone shout “Allah!” as they stub their toe, or “Buddah, I love these!” as they slurp down BBQ chicken wings. I wonder if it’s because of the popularity of Christianity. Perhaps the other deity are just more revered. Or perhaps Satan just doesn’t give a wit about slandering the names of myths so he doesn't even put the thought into human heads. Just wondering...
Anyway, bottom line: God does not reside on Mount Olympus. He is not borne of man’s imagination. He is God. But He is approachable through the sacrifice of Jesus. [Hebrews 4:14-16] May that knowledge drop you to your knees in worship. May you speak His name in humility, remembering that “the fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge” (Proverbs 1:1).
