Ekklesia

Before Christians adopted it, ekklesia meant the civic assembly of ancient Athens where male citizens debated laws and policy—a rowdy, democratic gathering in the marketplace. When early Christians called themselves ekklesia, they were making a radical claim: not a temple cult or mystery religion, but a self-governing community of equals. This choice of word embedded participatory governance into Christianity's DNA, though ironically, it would later justify both democratic congregationalism and hierarchical episcopacy.

The translation of ekklesia has been a battlefield for centuries. William Tyndale's choice to render it as "congregation" rather than "church" in his 1526 English Bible got him burned at the stake—authorities recognized that "congregation" emphasized the gathered people over institutional hierarchy. King James translators later switched back to "church," and that single word choice has shaped Protestant-Catholic divisions, influenced the structure of thousands of denominations, and continues to fuel debates about whether Christianity is fundamentally about people or institutions.

Etymology buffs often claim ekklesia means "called out ones" (ek = out, kaleo = to call), suggesting Christians are separated from the world. But in actual Greek usage, the prefix wasn't emphasized—Athenians didn't think of their assembly as "called out" but simply "called together." This linguistic nuance challenges the popular evangelical interpretation of Christians as fundamentally withdrawn from society, suggesting instead that ekklesia is about gathering for purpose, not fleeing from context.

In Acts 19, silversmiths in Ephesus riot against Paul, and the text uses ekklesia three times in rapid succession—twice for the chaotic mob and once for the "lawful assembly" that should handle disputes properly. Luke's deliberate wordplay is brilliant: he's showing that Christian ekklesia offers what civic assemblies promise but fail to deliver—true order, justice, and community. The passage reveals early Christians saw themselves as a superior kind of polis, a city within cities.

Here's the twist: while ekklesia brought democratic language into Christian thought, inspiring everything from congregational church votes to American religious freedom, ancient Greek assemblies were actually quite exclusive—no women, slaves, or foreigners allowed. Early Christian gatherings were, by contrast, radically inclusive across social boundaries, yet they borrowed the terminology of exclusion. This paradox means ekklesia simultaneously inspired democratic church governance and undermined it, depending on which aspect you emphasized.

Understanding ekklesia as "assembly" rather than "building" or "institution" transforms everyday spirituality. If you are ekklesia whenever you gather with other believers—in a coffee shop, a living room, a Zoom call—then you're not "going to church" but "being church." This ancient word invites you to see informal gatherings as fully legitimate expressions of Christian community, without clergy or buildings required. It's why house churches and organic faith communities can claim just as much authenticity as cathedrals—they're recovering the original meaning.