And they called Barnabas Jupiter, and Paul Mercury, because he took the lead in speaking.
At Lystra a crowd has just seen a man lame from birth stand up and walk. Their religion offers one explanation — the gods have come down — so they name Barnabas Zeus and Paul Hermes (Jupiter and Mercury in older translations).
The names were not random. The crowd matched each man to a god by what it could see and hear.
They called Barnabas Jupiter, since he clearly had the more impressive presence. Paul they called Mercury, because he was the better speaker of the two. The city was famous for its devotion to Jupiter, the so-called father of gods and men. His priest brought oxen and garlands to the gates and wanted to offer sacrifice.
The name given to Paul carried a meaning of its own.
In their excitement they called Barnabas, Jupiter; and Paul, Mercurius, as being the chief speaker, Mercury being the god of eloquence.
The crowd did not invent this idea on the spot. A story about such a visit was already going around.
It was all the more natural for pagans to conclude what the Lycaonians did. They had a legendary tradition that these very gods had once stayed as guests in a part of Asia Minor. A Latin poet had made the story popular a little earlier. Differences in looks would lead their superstitious minds to identify each man, on top of the specific reason given in Paul's case. The proposal to offer them sacrifice followed as a matter of course.
The verse says Paul led in speaking. The difference in gift was not a fault to fix. Barnabas was right to step back, and Paul was right to use his gift.
It was fitting for Barnabas, when travelling with a more gifted brother, to let Paul be the chief speaker. But would it have been fitting for Paul to refuse to use the gift he had received? Would it have been "all lowliness and meekness" to hold back in front of Barnabas, who was his elder? … These examples show the difference between true lowliness and meekness and what is easily mistaken for it. That mistake is only the laziness or timidity of the natural heart, indulged against the leading of the Spirit of God.
The crowd's ranking then shaped the order of the two names in the account:
The account names Barnabas first, since Mercury was servant to Jupiter.
The healing was real, but the crowd filed it under their own beliefs instead of letting it lead them to the God who did it.
The miracle happened in front of pagans, who read the wonderful event in the light of their false beliefs. They would have held an idolatrous festival if the apostles had not protested. The apostles seized the chance to declare to them the true and living God, who is the Creator. The Lycaonians would have done just what Paul charges the pagans with doing in Romans 1:25, saying they "worshiped and served the creature rather than the Creator, who is blessed forever."
Praise like this says more about the crowd than about the man.
Men will idolize you, perhaps; for God has lost His place with them, and it is easily given to another. They will destroy their idol too, just as easily. Yet this is the creature, man, and God has sent him a message of infinite grace.
The pull toward this did not die out with Lystra's altars.
It is too obvious to need mentioning how much of this idolizing goes on today. Men who claim to be servants of the Lord seek and love the honour and praise of men. Seeking honour from men and delighting in the applause of the "religious world" is a deadly thing. It dishonours Christ, to whom all honour and glory belong.
- Named. Barnabas got Zeus for his presence, Paul got Hermes for his speaking. The crowd judged the messengers by looks and words.
- Explained. A local legend of gods visiting in human form was already in the air, so sacrifice followed as a matter of course.
- Ordered. Paul led in speech and Barnabas gave way. True lowliness uses a gift; it does not smother it.
- Misread. The crowd forced a real miracle into its own false beliefs and worshiped the creature rather than the Creator.
- Reversed. The crowd that crowns a man will destroy him just as easily, so loving the praise of men is deadly.
And the priest of Jupiter who was before the city, having brought bulls and garlands to the gates, would have done sacrifice along with the crowds.
At Lystra an amazing miracle has just been done. The crowd has decided that gods have come down in human form, and now the priest of Zeus arrives with oxen and garlands, ready to sacrifice. It raises two questions. Why did a real work of God end in worship aimed at the wrong object? And what should a servant of God do when the honour lands on him?
Some translations call this god Jupiter; the name in the Greek text is Zeus. He was the chief god of Greek and Roman worship.
Zeus. Supreme god of Greece and Rome, though the religious ideas of the two nations were quite different. At Lystra the pagan inhabitants thought that Barnabas was Jupiter in human form.
Two things explain how fast it all moved: an old story about gods visiting that region, and a temple standing right outside the city.
It was all the more natural that pagans should draw the conclusion the Lycaonians drew. A little while before, a Latin poet (Ovid) of the age of Augustus had spread a legend. It said that these very gods had once been received as guests in a part of Asia Minor... The scene is set before us vividly, as usual. There is the crowd, and the priest of Zeus, whose temple, or statue, stood before the city. The oxen and garlands are all brought ready to the gates — probably the gates of the house or courtyard where the apostles were staying.
The miracle should have made the people listen. Instead they organised a ceremony, and one writer notes the inconsistency.
An amazing miracle of this kind should certainly have drawn people's attention to the message that Paul brought. But Satan cleverly used it to deceive the superstitious residents of the city. They took up the idolatrous idea that Paul and Barnabas were gods come down in human form. Rather than listening to them, they wanted to worship them... If these men really were gods, why were they not quiet, wanting to listen to them? An idolatrous priest of Jupiter is ready at once to offer sacrifices to them.
The priest, the animals and the garlands were ready before anyone asked for them. The human heart resists holiness, yet it never stops making something to bow to.
By nature the same heart is deeply set against holiness and at the same time built for religious observance. Man has an inborn, settled sense that he is not enough in himself. That sense makes him unable to stand simply independent of some power mightier than himself. A god, in some shape, is a natural necessity of man. His natural desire, in his first falling away from truth, is a god after his own heart.
The two men refused the honour on the spot. Their reaction was physical, and the message they put in its place did not start with salvation.
The priest of Jupiter wants to offer sacrifice along with the people. The apostles, Barnabas and Paul, are grieved at heart when they see what the people intend. Far from wanting any honour for themselves, they tear their clothes and run in among the crowd to stop them. They announce the one true God — not, here, salvation.
The garlands are gone; the offer of honour to a preacher is not. One writer names where it still lands — the applause of religious people.
No doubt the enemy was lurking behind this, but the grace of God gave the apostles power to act as they did. There is so much of this kind of idolizing today. Men who claim to be servants of the Lord seek and love the honour and praise of men. It is too obvious to need saying. Seeking honour from men and delighting in the applause of the "religious world" is a deadly thing. It dishonours Christ, to whom all honour and glory belong.
The crowd did not stay in that mood for long, and one writer turns the reversal into a warning.
At Lystra we see how fickle the crowd is. They soon stone the man they would at first have worshipped as a god. Men will idolize you, perhaps; for God has lost His place with them, and it is easily given to another. They will destroy their idol just as easily.
- Ready-made honour. A temple stood outside the city, and a legend was already going around. So oxen and garlands reached the gates the moment the crowd made up its mind.
- Honour misdirected. The miracle should have won them as listeners. Instead it won them as worshippers of the wrong object, and they never listened to the message.
- Honour explained. The heart that avoids holiness is still built for religious observance. Man needs a god of some kind, and he prefers one made to his own taste.
- Honour refused. The apostles were grieved, not flattered. They tore their clothes, ran into the crowd, and pointed people to the one true God.
- Honour reversed. The crowd that would have sacrificed to Paul soon stoned him. Whoever takes the crowd's worship has also taken its stones.