17 June 2026

The Greeks have a word (or two)
for it: 62, Ελευθερία ή θάνατος,
‘Freedom or Death’,
an irreversible binomial

The nine blue and white stripes of the Greek flag represent the nine syllables of the rallying cry Ελευθερία ή θάνατος (‘Eleftheria i Thanatos’), ‘Freedom or Death’ (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Patrick Comerford

While I was wnandering aoround Oxford yesterday (16 June 2026), by the boathouses, the rivers and the islands in the river, I was musing on Bloomsday and the wandering of Ulysses. But I also recall a holiday on an Ionian island in Greece about 20-25 years ago, when I also visited Ithaki, the island home of Odysseus. On that same holiday, I met an Irish couple who introduced themselves as Joyce and James from Dublin.

They never, ever, introduced themselves in the reverse order, as in ‘I’m James, … Joyce.’

But inevitably, for many of the people staying in that same small apartment block, this became known as their ‘James Joyce holiday’. The pairing was irreversible.

Another holidaymaker in the same apartment block found out, as he was packing to go home, that his suitcase had ripped. Rather than buying a new case, he found a large, pre-used cardboard box, packed all his belongings inside and wrapped it up in bubble wrap, with strong brown masking tape.

At the airport, as he was about to place the box on the scanning machine, a policeman asked him to take it off, and open it.

‘I can’t,’ he pleaded.

‘Take it off’.

Lesson 1, Do not argue with a Greek police officer, any police officer, at an airport.

The lesson was being ignored, but two other tourists – eager to defuse the situation and more eager not to miss their flight – without any airs and graces or fuss and bother removed the box, hoping to restore peace and calm and wanting to minimalise any confrontation with law and order.

‘What is it in the box?’

‘Just me Bits and Bobs’, said the elderly Dub casually, unaware of the chaos or mess that could unfold around him – what Greeks call τα πάνω κάτω (ta páno káto), ‘the ups-downs’.

‘Bobs and Bits?’ the policeman asked.

We all began to smile, he noticed our spontaneous response, tensions were defused, and soon the box was on its way back through the scanner.

Pardon the pun, but it was an open and shut case. Perhaps all he had in his bag and baggage was odds and sods, six of one and half a dozen of the other. Not in there, I am sure from his holiday attire, were a shirt and tie.

Despite the smiles, we had all minded our Ps and Qs. No-one had to bow and scrape, no-one lost an arm and a leg, and we all went through security, happy after a holiday on a Greek island that for two weeks had been our Land of Milk and Honey.

When we got home, I am sure, nobody unpacked their flop flips, put their holidays nacks and nicks in appropriate crannies and nooks, or had conversations in the days that followed with their dad and mum about the days of the Tans and Blacks.

Who speaks of ‘breakfast and bed’ rather than ‘bed and breakfast’ for a B&B? … Park Villa Guest House in Kilkenny (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

The pairing of words known in English as an irreversible binomial, or a frozen binomial, also exists in Greek. This is a pair of words linked by a conjunction such as και (‘and’) and that always occur in a fixed, non-reversible order. Έτσι κι έτσι (Etsi ki etsi), which means ‘so-so’, is a classic example of this paired rhythmic pattern in Greek. The phrase literally means ‘thus and thus’ and is used to describe average health, mood, or a mediocre experience:

Τι κάνεις; (ti káneis), How are you?

Έτσι κι έτσι (Etsi ki etsi), So-so.

Other common examples of the use of an irreversible binomial in Greek include:

Πέτσι και κόκαλο (pétsi ke kókalo, skin and bones), meaning emaciated or extremely thin.

Απ' έξω και ανακατωτά (ap' éxso ke anakatotá, inside out and upside down, completely mixed up), referring to knowing something perfectly.

Ήθη και έθιμα (íthi ke éthima, morals and customs), a standard frozen phrase encompassing cultural traditions.

Στο κάτω κάτω της γραφής (sto káto káto tis grafís, after all, bottom line), literally ‘at the bottom bottom of the writing’.

Τα πάνω κάτω (ta páno káto, upside down, chaos), literally ‘the ups-downs’, used to describe a mess.

Άνω κάτω (ano kato, ‘up down’) or ‘topsy-turvy’.

Μπρος πίσω (bros piso, ‘front back’) or back and forth.

Έθιμα και έθιμα (ethima kai ethima), ‘customs and habits’.

Μισός κι άλλος μισός (misos ki allos misos) ‘one and the other’.

Ένας κι ένας (enas ki enas), one by one.

Common Greek irreversible binomials feature entrenched phrases, historical idioms, and common collocations. In Greek linguistics, irreversible binomials or idiomatic, fixed-order word pairs, similar to the order of ‘bread and butter’ in English, are heavily shaped by iconicity or the chronological or logical sequence of events, and by end-weight, with longer or heavier words appearing toward the end of the phrase.

Verbs expressing sequential actions must follow their natural temporal order (as in going in before going out). In Greek, this appears as μπαινοβγαίνω (bainovgeno, ‘go in and out’) or ανεβοκατεβαίνω (anevokateveno, ‘go up and down’).

When nouns or adverbs of similar meaning are combined, the element with the more sonorous or longer vowel, or a greater number of syllables, is usually placed at the end to provide a rhythmic cadence.

The most famous example of an irreversible binomial in Greek is Ελευθερία ή θάνατος (Eleftheria i Thanatos), ‘Freedom or Death’. This pair of words is ordered by established convention, and they are fixed in sequence. Swapping their order, as in saying ‘Death or Freedom’, sounds jarring to any Greek speaker.

As a linguistic convention, the pairings in an irreversible binomial are anchored by cultural, psychological, and semantic rules. When faced with an ultimatum, we instinctively priorities the positive or desired outcome first, followed by the negative alternative. Positioning ‘Freedom’ before ‘Death’ frames the statement as a pursuit of life’s highest ideal, with death accepted only as a last resort.

The phrase Ελευθερία ή θάνατος (Eleftheria i Thanatos) has become the Greek national motto. It originated in the 1820s during the Greek War of Independence against the Ottoman Empire. The nine blue and white stripes of the Greek flag represent the nine syllables of this rallying cry.

The phrase gives its name to Freedom or Death, also known as Captain Michalis, a 1953 novel by the author Nikos Kazantzakis from Iraklion in Crete that is became a key work of modern Greek literature.

The binary choice between liberty and life without freedom is mirrored in other historic rallying cries, such as the Patrick Henry’s ‘Give me liberty, or give me death!’ The late Seumas Phelan, when he was a sub-editor at The Irish Times, would cry out during lulls and dull moments on the subs desk, ‘Give me copy, or give me death’.

In English, the fixed order of irreversible binomials or frozen binomials means that changing the order sounds jarring, even if the meaning remains clear. This fixed order is largely shaped by linguistic patterns rather than arbitrary rules.

The natural rhythm or ablaut means English speakers naturally prefer pairs with specific syllable stresses, or where a shorter, high-frequency word precedes a longer one, as with short and sweet or sick and tired.

Iconic sequencing means phrases often follow a chronological or logical order of events in the real world, such as cause and effect, or trial and error.

But cultural conventions and historical and semantic traditions also cement phrases into our long-term memory, processing them as single holistic units rather than individual words. In law and official documents, there are many irreversible binomials consisting of near synonyms, such as the oft-expressed terms and conditions and cease and desist.

There are hundreds of these expressions in English and they generally fall into a few key categories, such as food and objects. Think of how we link Fish and Chips, Salt and Pepper, Knife and Fork, or Bread and Butter. In everyday conversation and idioms, we refer to Give and Take, Back and Forth, Safe and Sound, Bed and Breakfast, but never to Roll and Rock or Blues and Rhythm, and we ask for explanations and excuses to be Short and Sweet.

The term ‘irreversible binomial’ was introduced in 1954 by the Ukrainian-born etymologist and philologist Yakov Malkiel (1914-1998), although aspects of the phenomenon had been discussed since at least 1903 under different names such as ‘terminological imbroglio’ and the now politically-incorrect ‘Siamese twins’.

Many irreversible binomials are catchy due to alliteration, rhyming, or ablaut reduplication, and have become clichés or catchphrases. The mix and match of idioms includes phrases such as rock and roll, the birds and the bees, and they have survived the wear and tear of generations among generation of native English speakers, even one word in a pairing has become obsolete as in spick and span. Spick is a fossil word that never appears outside the phrase spick and span. Who uses words such as such as vim or abet except when using sayings such as vim and vigour or aid and abet.

No-one is ever caught between a hard place and a rock, high water and hell never come, and I know no-one who has had a tuck and nip, even among the famous and rich. Although, if I wanted to be little more Greek in my turn of phrase, or a Joycean reference, then instead of ‘a rock and a hard place’ I might chose to be caught between the equally dangerous and threatening Scylla and Charybdis.

Ball and Chain? … ‘Sitting on History’ by Bill Woodrow in Milton Keynes (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Previous words in this series:

1, Neologism, Νεολογισμός.

2, Welcoming the stranger, Φιλοξενία.

3, Bread, Ψωμί.

4, Wine, Οίνος and Κρασί.

5, Yogurt, Γιαούρτι.

6, Orthodoxy, Ορθοδοξία.

7, Sea, Θᾰ́λᾰσσᾰ.

8,Theology, Θεολογία.

9, Icon, Εἰκών.

10, Philosophy, Φιλοσοφία.

11, Chaos, Χάος.

12, Liturgy, Λειτουργία.

13, Greeks, Ἕλληνες or Ρωμαίοι.

14, Mañana, Αύριο.

15, Europe, Εὐρώπη.

16, Architecture, Αρχιτεκτονική.

17, The missing words.

18, Theatre, θέατρον, and Drama, Δρᾶμα.

19, Pharmacy, Φᾰρμᾰκείᾱ.

20, Rhapsody, Ραψῳδός.

21, Holocaust, Ολοκαύτωμα.

22, Hygiene, Υγιεινή.

23, Laconic, Λακωνικός.

24, Telephone, Τηλέφωνο.

25, Asthma, Ασθμα.

26, Synagogue, Συναγωγή.

27, Diaspora, Διασπορά.

28, School, Σχολείο.

29, Muse, Μούσα.

30, Monastery, Μοναστήρι.

31, Olympian, Ολύμπιος.

32, Hypocrite, Υποκριτής.

33, Genocide, Γενοκτονία.

34, Cinema, Κινημα.

35, autopsy and biopsy

36, Exodus, ἔξοδος

37, Bishop, ἐπίσκοπος

38, Socratic, Σωκρατικὸς

39, Odyssey, Ὀδύσσεια

40, Practice, πρᾶξις

41, Idiotic, Ιδιωτικός

42, Pentecost, Πεντηκοστή

43, Apostrophe, ἀποστροφή

44, catastrophe, καταστροφή

45, democracy, δημοκρατία

46, ‘Αρχή, beginning, Τέλος, end

47, ‘Αποκάλυψις, Apocalypse

48, ‘Απόκρυφα, Apocrypha

49, Ἠλεκτρον (Elektron), electric

50, Metamorphosis, Μεταμόρφωσις

51, Bimah, βῆμα

52, ἰχθύς (ichthýs) and ψάρι (psari), fish.

53, Τὰ Βιβλία (Ta Biblia), The Bible

54, Φῐλοξενῐ́ᾱ (Philoxenia), true hospitality

55, εκκλησία (ekklesia), the Church

56, ναός (naos) and ἱερός (ieros), a church

57, Χριστούγεννα (Christougenna), Christmas

58, ἐπιφάνεια (epipháneia), θεοφάνεια, (theopháneia), Epiphany and Theophany

59, Ζέφυρος (Zéphuros), the West Wind

60, Αύριο (Avrio), Tomorrow

61, καλημέρα (κaliméra), ‘Good Morning’, and καλαμάρι, κalamári, ‘squid’



62, Ελευθερία ή θάνατος, ‘Freedom or Death’

Series to be continued

’Freedom or Death’ is one of the great literary works by Nikos Kazantzakis (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Daily prayer in Ordinary Time 2026:
41, Wednesday 17 June 2026

Classical masks on sale near the Acropolis in Athens … the word ‘hypocrite’ comes from the Greek word for an actor who masked or hid his face (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Patrick Comerford

We are in Ordinary Time and this week began with the Second Sunday after Trinity (14 June 2026). The calendar of the Church of England in Common Worship today remembers Samuel Barnett (1844-1913) and Henrietta Barnett (1851-1936), Social Reformers.

Later this evening, I hope to be part of the choir rehearsals in Saint Mary and Saint Giles Church, Stony Stratford. But before today begins, I am taking some quiet time this morning to give thanks, to reflect, to pray and to read in these ways:

1, reading today’s Gospel reading;

2, a short reflection;

3, a prayer from the USPG prayer diary;

4, the Collects and Post-Communion prayer of the day.

A classical Greek mask in a museum in Naxos in Sicily … the word ‘hypocrite’ comes from the Greek word for an actor who masked or hid his face as he said someone else’s words (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Matthew 6: 1-6, 16-18 (NRSVA):

[Jesus said:] 1 ‘Beware of practising your piety before others in order to be seen by them; for then you have no reward from your Father in heaven.

2 ‘So whenever you give alms, do not sound a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, so that they may be praised by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. 3 But when you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, 4 so that your alms may be done in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.

5 ‘And whenever you pray, do not be like the hypocrites; for they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, so that they may be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. 6 But whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.

16 ‘And whenever you fast, do not look dismal, like the hypocrites, for they disfigure their faces so as to show others that they are fasting. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. 17 But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, 18 so that your fasting may be seen not by others but by your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.’

A T-shirt on sale in the Plaka in Athens … we are challenged to bring together our words and deeds, our needs ‘to be’ and ‘to do’ (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Today’s Reflections:

The Gospel reading for the Eucharist this morning (Matthew 6: 1-6, 16-18) continues our readings from the Sermon on the Mount, and today’s reading is familiar to many as the Gospel reading on Ash Wednesday.

So, this morning I am reflecting on the meaning of the word ‘hypocrite’ which is repeated three times in this passage (verses 2, 5, 16).

Sometimes our comfortable differences can trip us up in ways that surprise or even embarrass us.

A priest colleague who is not from these islands once told me how, within weeks, he came a cropper in a new parish. He comes from a society and a culture where people speak openly and directly. He regards this as a mark of efficiency and a sign of his honesty.

But this did not go down well at all in his new parish. When he told parishioners what he wanted to do, he thought he was being frank, honest and direct. But they immediately saw him as abrupt, abrasive and rude.

In his next parish, he knew he needed to be a little less direct and a lot more diplomatic.

We all know what diplomats mean when they say talks have been frank and honest: bruising encounters with no one behaving in what we might call a civilised manner, or behaving towards each other like Christians.

We respond instinctively as if we expect to be treated politely and that others expect us to treat them politely too.

I offer two examples of how I think Ireland and England are unique in this respect. In other countries, when people pay for a service, they feel that they are doing someone a favour, giving them their custom and their money, and so walk away when the transaction is complete. It is a bonus for them if the person at the till says as they leave, ‘Thank you.’

But here, on these islands, we respond differently: when we pay in a shop or café, or get off a bus or train, it is we, the paying customers, who say ‘Thank You!’

Or again: How often have I asked someone for information that I know or expect them to have – looking for directions on the street, or asking for information at an airport or a train station. And every now and then we meet someone who is curmudgeonly, who got out on the wrong side of the bed, or is just downright rude. And they answer brusquely, ‘I don’t know,’ or ‘Look at the timetable.’

And what do I say in reply? I say, ‘Thank You!’

I am just too Anglo-Saxon with my manners for my own good at times. I put on a polite mask, and I put up.

And sometimes we confuse those good manners with the answer we expect to that perennial question, ‘What Would Jesus Do?’

Well, when we look at what Jesus does in so many Gospel readings, we may be shocked. English is a polite language, and translators add their own polite priorities and good manners to how they translate what Jesus says in the original and very direct Greek into palatable, modern English.

This morning, we hear what sounds like Jesus being very rude about some very religious people. He calls them hypocrites seeking the praise of others in public places (verses 2, 5), and accuses them of being tow-faced (verse 16) on false .

The word hypocrite comes from classical Greek drama. This word (ὑποκριτής, hypokrités) was used for an actor who on stage puts on a mask and speaks the words of someone else. The actor with the mask could have subtitles with a disclaimer: ‘These are not my words, I am only using the words of Sophocles, Euripides, Aristophanes … or one of the other great playwrights.’

So, a hypocrite was an actor, a pretender, a dissembler, a hypocrite who puts on a mask and says something that represents someone else’s ideas, but that he does not necessarily believe himself.

But when Jesus says other religious leaders or teachers are hypocrites, he is challenging them to drop the mask and to own the words they speak and to own the reasons for their prayers and rituals.

I bought a T-shirt in the Plaka in Athens some years ago that said:

To do is to be – Socrates
To be is to do – Plato
Do be do be do – Sinatra


If what we pray or say does not match how be behave or what we do, if our words are not reflected in actions, then we are hypocrites, using the words of others but behaving in our own way.

We should beware whenever prayer and piety get in the way of true religion: loving God with all your heart, mind, soul, and strength, and loving your neighbour as yourself. Beware when our piety separates us from others, for then it also separates us from God.

‘When you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing’ (Matthew 6: 3) … a classical-style statue at Vergina restaurant in Platanias, near Rethymnon (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Today’s Prayers (Wednesday 17 June 2026):

In Pray with the World Church, the prayer diary of the Anglican mission agency USPG (United Society Partners in the Gospel), the theme this week, from 14 to 20 June 2026 (pp 10-11), is ‘Rooted in Compassion’. This theme was introduced on Sunday by the Ven Titus Oluwalusi, the Anglican Chaplain at Saint John’s Church in Casablanca, Morocco.

The USPG prayer diary today (Wednesday 17 June 2026) invites us to pray:

Father, in a community where many come and go, we pray that the ministry of Saint John’s may nurture faith, foster connection, and provide a firm spiritual foundation for all who pass through.

The Collect of the Day:

Lord, you have taught us
that all our doings without love are nothing worth:
send your Holy Spirit
and pour into our hearts that most excellent gift of love,
the true bond of peace and of all virtues,
without which whoever lives is counted dead before you.
Grant this for your only Son Jesus Christ’s sake,
who is alive and reigns with you,
in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and for ever. Spirit,
one God, now and for ever.

The Post-Communion Prayer:

Loving Father,
we thank you for feeding us at the supper of your Son:
sustain us with your Spirit,
that we may serve you here on earth
until our joy is complete in heaven,
and we share in the eternal banquet
with Jesus Christ our Lord.

Additional Collect:

Faithful Creator,
whose mercy never fails:
deepen our faithfulness to you
and to your living Word,
Jesus Christ our Lord.

Yesterday’s Reflections

Continued Tomorrow

‘And whenever you fast, do not look dismal, like the hypocrites’ (Matthew 6: 16) … empty tables at a restaurant in Panormos near Rethymnon (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Scripture quotations are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible: Anglicised Edition copyright © 1989, 1995, National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide. http://nrsvbibles.org

16 June 2026

A moral tale of the threats to
civilisation as we know it on
a journey with another Ulysses



Patrick Comerford

And if the soul is about to know itself, it must gaze into the soul
– Plato, Alcybiades, 133B

Today is Bloomsday (16 June 2026), and I marked Bloomsday wandering through the streets of Oxford, through Christ Church Meadow, and by the river and the boathouses, vainly searching for any connections James Joyce may have had with the ‘City of Dreaming Spires’.

I have been disturbed since Sunday of the spectacle of a ‘cage fight’ on the lawn of the White House to celebrate the birthday of a maniacal and egocentric president and how it so thoroughly represents the collapse of culture in the US and the way the steady decline of western civilisation – at the very least in America.

In their own way, James Joyce’s Ulysses and Homer’s Odyssey represent, to a degree, the best of literature at different stages or epochs in western culture and civilisation. But is it too harsh to fear that the banality and tastelessness of the Trump administration a warning of the eventual collapse of western civilisation, culture?

My fears are added to by the violence on our city streets away, where the people who are loudest in vocalising their opposition to cultural, ethnic and religious diversity in these islands are the ones least likely to have any appreciation of the foundations of what might be called European and Western civilisation. It seem they are, in fact, the Barbarians, and that the Barbarians are inside the gates, destroying the city.

In some new way, I find myself understanding the words of the taxi driver in the film Ulysses’ Gaze, where he talks of Greek civilisation as a 3,000-year fall from glory and says: ‘Greece is dying. We are dying as a people.’ Perhaps, instead, I might say fretfully after that vulgar display on the White House lawn, ‘Western civilisation is dying. We are dying as a people.’



In the midst of my bleak fretting about the prospects and uncertain political future of our western civilisation, built on the bedrock of classical – especially Greek – culture, it seemed appropriate to sit back recently for three hours once again and watch Ulysses’ Gaze (Το βλέμμα του Οδυσσέα, To Vlémma tou Odysséa) the 1995 epic Greek film by Theo Angelopoulos.

Ulysses’ Gaze is both a beautiful and a bleak film, with powerful images and haunting memories. This 176-minute epic is challenging and demanding, with no clear border between imagination and reality. It makes a devastating statement about the tragic conflicts in the former Yugoslavia and the Balkans in the 1990s, and challenges the boundaries between ethnic identities that set up false borders and fail to recognise a shared humanity and a shared cultural heritage.



Angelopoulos, who died earlier this year, believed in shooting in the actual locations of his stories and felt he had no other option to take the risks involved, However, the UN refused Angelopoulos permission to film in Sarajevo, and so the scenes set there – including one supposedly in ‘Sniper Alley’ – were filmed in Mostar, Vukovar and the Krijena region. But all the other scenes were filmed on location in Albania, the Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia (Fyrom or Skopje), Bulgaria, Romania and Serbia.

A key to engaging with this movie and journeying with the main character on his Odyssey may be found in words by the Greek poet CP Cavafy, who opens his poem ‘Ithaka’ (1911) with the words:

Σα βγεις στον πηγαιμό για την Ιθάκη,
να εύχεσαι νάναι μακρύς ο δρόμος,
γεμάτος περιπέτειες, γεμάτος γνώσεις.
Τους Λαιστρυγόνας και τους Κύκλωπας,
τον θυμωμένο Ποσειδώνα μη φοβάσαι,
τέτοια στον δρόμο σου ποτέ σου δεν θα βρεις,
αν μέν’ η σκέψις σου υψηλή, αν εκλεκτή
συγκίνησις το πνεύμα και το σώμα σου αγγίζει.


As you set out for Ithaka
hope the voyage is a long one,
full of adventure, full of discovery.
Laistrygonians and Cyclops,
angry Poseidon – don’t be afraid of them:
you’ll never find things like that on your way
as long as you keep your thoughts raised high,
as long as a rare excitement
stirs your spirit and your body.
.

Return from Troy



‘A’ is an unnamed exiled Greek filmmaker who has been living in exile in the US since his time as a conscript in the Greek army in his late teens or early 20s. He returns home to Florina, like Odysseus returning from the Trojan wars, after a 35-year absence, for a special screening of one of his controversial films. But the true purpose of his journey home is to set out on an epic journey across the war-battered Balkans searching for three lost reels of film by the Manachia or Manákias Brothers.

Yiannákis Manákias (Γιαννάκης Μανάκιας, 1878-1954) and his brother Miltiádes Manákias (Μιλτιάδης Μανάκιας, 1882-1964) were pioneering filmmakers in the Balkans at the beginning of the last century, and the search for the mythical reels first filmed by the Manákias brothers around 1905 serves as the backdrop for a search for the shared history of the Balkans.

‘Why A?’ Theo Angelopoulos asked himself. ‘It’s an alphabetical choice. Every filmmaker remembers the first time he looked through the viewfinder of a camera. It is a moment that is not so much the discovery of cinema – but the discovery of the world. But there comes a moment when the filmmaker begins to doubt his own capacity to see things, when he no longer knows if his gaze is right and innocent.’

In the early years of cinema, the Manákias brothers criss-crossed the Balkans tirelessly as they recorded the history and customs of the region, and they disregarded national and ethnic strife. But their primitive images were never developed, and ‘A’ must ask whether those three reels ever really existed. And if they still exist, where are they?

In a some way, these films are the first ‘gaze’ into the soul of the Balkans. As the title of the movie suggests, the story is an odyssey, but it begins in Greece and moves through Albania, the Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia (North Macedonia), Bulgaria, Romania, Serbia and Bosnia.

Before the titles, the film opens with an old black and white silent film that shows the brothers’ 114-year-old grandmother spinning wool in their home village. In a voice-over, Harvey Keitel, who plays ‘A’, comments: ‘Weavers in Avdella, a Greek village, 1905, the first film made by the brothers Miltiades and Yiannákis Manákias, [who filmed] all the ambiguities, the contrasts, the conflicts in this area of the world.’



We then move to 1954 and Thessaloniki, where an old man stands at the west end of the seafront near the White Tower, preparing to film a sailing ship coming out of the harbour to the east.

The old man is Yiannákis Manákias, and the scene is recounted to ‘A’ by an old man who had once worked with Manákias as his assistant.

As the assistant recounts Manákias and his work, the films takes on colour and Manákias collapses from a heart attack and dies. His assistant continues to recall the past as ‘A’ arrives at the very place where Manákias had been filing with. In one long scene, Angelopoulos has covered 60 years of Greek filmmaking, and sets the tone for the whole journey that is about to unfold.

Finding Penelope at home



After the titles, ‘A’ has arrived in a rainy Florina in northern Greece, where one of his controversial films is being shown in the market place. All the cinemas have refused a screening , and religious fanatics are planning to protest in the streets. ‘A’ is advised to leave and as he is about to catch a taxi, a woman in her 30s (Maia Morgenstern) passes by.

The Romanian actress Maia Morgenstern plays the roles of four different women in this film, and ‘A’s’ four lovers also represent the four key women in the story of Odysseus. In this scene, she becomes ‘A’s’ old lover abandoned by him years ago, a Penelope figure. A stunned ‘A’ follows her, muttering to himself: ‘I did not expect to see you here.’



But she disappears into the crowds of demonstrators and counter-demonstrators. Like Penelope’s battling suitors, the two groups are marching towards each other, separated only by a thin line of police. But we do not see the clash that follows. Instead, the film cuts to a dreary, snow-covered winter day when ‘A’ has arrived in the taxi at an Albanian border crossing.

As the taxi driver (Thanassis Vengos) looks after formalities with the police, ‘A’ notices a frail elderly woman (Dora Volanaki) standing alone with a suitcase. She asks ‘A’ for a lift to a town across the border, where she plans to visit the sister she has not seen for 47 years.

‘A’ helps her into the taxi as a group of illegal Albanian migrants, who have been rounded up by the Greek police, arrive on a bus to be forced back across the border. As ‘A’ and the woman cross the border from Greece into Albania, hundreds of desolate Albanians are lining the roadside in the snow, waiting in desolate hope for a chance to slip across into Greece. The taxi reaches Korytsa, and in an empty square ‘A’ helps the elderly woman out.

She has returned from one exile to face a second exile in this vast open space, surrounded by concrete. Her silence gives way to an unseen muzzein’s call to prayer from a minaret, symbolising the return to the old religion in post-communist in Albania.



As the taxi leaves, the bleak image of an empty town creates a compelling sense of loss But non-Greek viewers are unlikely to make a connection with either the history of the Greek minority in Northern Epirus or with the capture of Korytsa by the Greek army in 1912 during the first Balkan War.

Calypso in Monastiri

The taxi continues on to the border with Skopje, but is forced to stop because of snow on the road. The taxi driver decides against crossing and waits for the snow to be cleared. As he and ‘A’ listen to Greek music and drink raki, cementing their friendship, the taxi driver says: ‘Greece is dying. We are dying as a people.’

‘A’ arrives by bus in Monastiri in search of the original home of the Manákias brothers. As he stands at their front door, we are brought back to black and white footage by the Manákias brothers from 1956.

The house is now a museum. Inside, ‘A” meets a young librarian (Maia Morgenstern in her second role), who remains distant and aloof in her refusal to help him. That evening, they meet again on the train to Skopje, and ‘A’ tells her in detail about the purpose of his journey.

The librarian’s name is Kali – and so she is about to become the nymph Calypso who held Odysseus captive for seven years on her island Ogygia. She tells ‘A’ that the Manákias films are not in the archives in Skopje.



In Skopje, ‘A’ boards the overnight express train to Sofia and Bucharest, but he continues talking to Kali on the station platform, telling her of an event two years earlier on Delos, when he tried to photograph the birthplace of Apollo. The train starts to leave and picks up speed, and Kali, enticed like Nausicaa by a story from Delos, is now running along the platform. Finally, ‘A’ grabs her on board. He continues his story, and Kali is so moved they cannot escape a passionate embrace – they are on a journey together.

When the train pulls in at the Bulgarian border, the guards say something is wrong with ‘A’s’ passport. Past and present mix again in a surreal scene as he is questioned by an official in 100-year-old clothing, as though he is Yiannákis Manákias, accused of sedition against Bulgaria. ‘A’ protests that he does not understand, but he is blind-folded in front of a firing squad. He is Odysseus captive to the half-blind Cyclops.

At the last moment, a messenger arrives, saying King Ferdinand of Bulgaria has commuted the sentence to exile until the Balkan war (1912-1913) is over.

He tells the modern Bulgarian border guard he is going to in Philippoupolis, but is corrected. Today it is Plovdiv.

Telemachos greets his father


‘A’ and Kali are reunited and board another train for Bucharest. As they step off the train, it is the 1940s and a young women (Mania Papadimitriou) comes forward and speaks to ‘A’ as if he were a child. She is his mother, and he apologises for missing her funeral. They are back in his childhood, and they travel on to their old home in Constanţa on the Romanian Black Sea. There, all his dead relatives are dancing. Like a well-mannered child, he greets each in turn.

His father appears in rags, back from a concentration camp. It is 1945, and ‘A’ is not only Telemachos, welcoming home his father Odysseus, but his memory has merged with that of the Manákias brothers. We witness a dance through a period of five years, 1945-1950, that signifies the end of the presence of the Greek, Armenian and Jewish minorities in Romania and the arrival of the new Stalinist regime.

Farewell to Calypso



‘A’ and Kali wake up together in bed in a modern hotel in Constanţa. They go down to the harbour, where a larger-than-life but broken statue of Lenin is being loaded on a barge, to be taken up the Danube to Germany. A tear-filled ‘A’ tells a sorrowing Kali: ‘I cannot love you’ – as Homer’s Odysseus tells Calypso when he leaves her. He boards the barge, leaving a bewildered Kali behind on the quay.

As the barge makes its way up the Danube, groups of people on the riverbank stand in awe of Lenin, paying their respects and many crossing themselves. This long travelling shot, with Lenin’s severed head gazing at the skies – almost like the floating ruins of Ozymandias – is a stark reminder of the ruins and failures of the past, the confusion created after the collapse of the Communist system. Like the muzzein’s call in Albania, the people on the riverbank crossing themselves as Lenin passes symbolise the passing of an old order and the return of the old religion.

Odysseus in Hades

When ‘A’ arrives in the Serbian capital Belgrade, he is met by an old journalist friend from Greece, Nikos (Giorgos Michalakopoulos). Nikos greets him quoting the Greek poet George Seferis (1900-1971): ‘When God created the world, the first thing he made were journeys.’

‘A’ replies: ‘And then came doubt … and nostalgia.’

In an old people’s home, they meet Yovisitsa, an old man who was in charge of the Belgrade Film Archives for many years. He admits he failed to develop the Manákias films but tells them they are now in the Sarajevo Film Archives in Bosnia.

In a café in Belgrade, Nikos and ‘A’ drink to the memory of old, now-dead friends, to poets and revolutionaries, to Cavafy, Che Guevarra, May 1968, and Santorini, and the departed giants of cinema: ‘To Orson Welles! To Dreyer! To Murnau!’ They continue their voyage into nostalgia while drinking ion the tram tracks and on the street. For ‘A’, Belgrade is Odysseus’ descent into Hades in the Odyssey, where he meets old friends and is given instructions to complete his journey. He decides, despite the dangers, to journey on to Sarajevo.

Nausicaa washes Odysseus’ clothes



Nikos helps ‘A’ to find a boat on the River Sava that will take him to Sarajevo. It is night time when ‘A’ is woken on the boat by a young woman (played again by Maia Morgenstern), who now is Naursicaa. Together they row up the River Sava in a small boat towards Sarajevo.

But we are brought back to 1915 and they are back in Philippoupolis (Plovdiv) in Bulgaria. They arrive at a ruined village and walk to the charred remains of the woman’s ruined home.

The grief-stricken woman cries out: ‘Vania! Vania! Vaniushka!’

In the debris, ‘A’ finds a framed wedding photograph. Is this the woman and Vania?

In the evening in the rubble, a table is set and she and ‘A’ dine together to the sound of gunfire and explosions in the background.



When he awakes, ‘A’ wraps himself in a blanket and walks outside to see the woman, like Nausicaa, washing his clothes in the river. Back in the house, she gives him her husband’s clothes, and then goes down to the river to break up the boat with an axe – now she is Circe is trying to keep Odysseus captive. She returns to the house, sees ‘A’ dressed in her husband’s clothes, pulls him to the floor and they make passionate love. But in the darkness, ‘A’ escapes and in the night drifts down the river in a small boat.

Nausicaa and Penelope in Sarajevo



Two hours into the film, ‘A’ arrives at dawn in Sarajevo, where the siege has left the city in ruins, and people risk their lives each day, braving Serbian snipers to fetch water.

‘A’ finds his way to the Film Archives, where a young boy takes him to meet the Jewish curator, Ivo Levy (Erland Josephson). Together, they walk back to the damaged archives building, each carrying a container of water.

‘A’ tells Levy he is in Sarajevo to find the three Manákias films. Although Levy has the films but has never been unable to develop them. Now he agrees to try one more but last time.

‘A’ falls asleep at the archives, and is awoken by Levy’s daughter, Naomi (Maia Morgenstern in her fourth role). Naomi is his Nausicaa, and we realise ‘A’ has projected his past lovers onto every woman he meets. When Naomi leaves, ‘A’ finds Levy at work in the lab. Later, Levy is successful and he and ‘A’ are overwhelmed with joy that, after almost 100 years, an image of Greece from the early 20th century has been brought to life once again.



Outside in the fog, they walk through the streets of Sarajevo, where a lull in sniping allows a small orchestra of young Muslims, Croats and Serbs to perform in a small square, while a small group of actors nearby us staging Romeo and Juliet. The lull in sniping also allows Muslims and Christians to bury their dead.

Further on, some couples are dancing to pop music, and Naomi appears through the fog, inviting ‘A’ to dance. The music changes to a 1950s tune, and Naomi becomes Penelope, left behind in Florina by ‘A’ so long ago.

‘A,” Naomi and Levy are joined by Levy’s family and they walk together in the fog towards the river, with Levy and ‘A’ straggling behind. Suddenly, a car pulls up, doors slam, and men shout. Levy tells “A” to stay where he is and runs in the fog towards the rest of the family. Naomi cries out: ‘Not the children!’ Gun shots are followed by splashes as bodies are dumped in the river. The car reverses and then speeds off.

There is total silence. We are left staring, guessing what has happened, what we have not seen.

‘A’ rushes to the scene of the massacre has taken place and be the riverbank he finds Levy dead in the snow, and then Naomi. He embraces her, embracing all the women he has loved and lost, and in primal screams we hear his helpless rage and anger.

As he walks back slowly to the archives, the orchestra is still playing in the snow-covered square in Sarajevo.

In the final scene, a film has just been shown on a blank projection screen, perhaps one of the Manákias films – if they ever existed. But the film reels have been burned and he faces the camera in tears, speaking the words of Odysseus to Penelope: ‘When I return, it will be with another man’s clothes.’

Fulfilling a vow

Ulysses’ Gaze received the Grand Jury Prize at the 1995 Cannes Film Festival, but has been largely ignored by film critics and distributors in Western Europe.

This was a response by Angelopoulos to the Balkan crises following the break-up of Yugoslavia. With the many allusions to images in Greek poetry that bring together the values of classical Greece and modern Greece, Angelopoulos is claiming a continuity between the ancient and modern Greek worlds, between the Hellenistic and the Byzantine worlds, but also expressing a nostalgia for a Balkan world once shared by all irrespective of religious or ethnic identities.

‘A’s’ belief in the innocence of Manákias brothers’ creative gaze may hold the key to lost innocence and essential truth, to an understanding of the Balkans. In his journey, this modern Odysseus is not seeking to return to a geographical homeland but is searching for rue meaning and true identity. Indeed, ‘A’s’ journey in search of the Manákias reels is less of a practical quest and more like the fulfilment of a vow, almost like a pilgrimage religious people undertake to honour the memory of a saint.

His wanderings have taken ‘A’ on a double journey: a journey through space, as he wanders across the Balkans at war; and a journey across time, as he revisits his past, the past of the Manákias brothers and the past of the Balkans. Those journeys across take him through a landscape peopled by ghostly figures and broken dreams, and take him to the heart of darkness.

Our modern Odysseus has reached his Ithaka, but his odyssey may not be over.

Cast:

Harvey Keitel (‘A’).
Maia Morgenstern (woman in Florina, Penelope; Kali, Calypso; widow, Circe; Naomi Levi, Nausica)
Erland Josephson (Ivo Levy) – the actor Gian Maria Volonté died during filming and was replaced by Josephson
Thanassis Vengos (taxi driver)
Giorgos Michalakopoulos (Nikos)
Dora Volanaki (old lady in Albania)
Mania Papadimitriou (‘A’s’ mother in Romania)



Music:

The score by Eleni Karaindrou, featuring Kim Kashkashian on viola, was recorded in December 1994 at Sound Studio, Athens, and was released on the ECM label in 1995.

Kim Kashkashian, viola soloist
Vangelis Christopoulos, oboe
Andreas Tsekouras, accordion
Socratis Anthis, trumpet
Vangelis Skouras, French horn
Christos Sfetsas, cello
Georgia Voulvi, voice
Lefteris Chalkiadakis, conductor

Theo Angelopoulos (1935-2012) died in an accident in Athens 24 January 2012, aged 76, while working on a new film.



Daily prayer in Ordinary Time 2026:
40, Tuesday 16 June 2026

‘For he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good’ (Matthew 5: 54) … sunrise off the coast of Igoumenitsa in north-west Greece (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Patrick Comerford

Patrick Comerford

We are in Ordinary Time and the week began with the Second Sunday after Trinity (Trinity II, 14 June 2025). The calendar of the Church of England in Common Worship today remembers Saint Richard (1197-1253), Bishop of Chichester, and Joseph Butler (1692-1752), Bishop of Durham, Philosopher.

Today is Bloomsday, and so, in my own trbute to James Joyce, I may spend time re-reading parts of ULysses during the day. Before today begins, I am taking some quiet time this morning to give thanks, to reflect, to pray and to read in these ways:

1, reading today’s Gospel reading;

2, a short reflection;

3, a prayer from the USPG prayer diary;

4, the Collects and the Post-Communion prayer of the day.

‘He … sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous’ (Matthew 5: 45) … reflections of rain in Saint Mark’s Square, Venice (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Matthew 5: 43-48 (NRSVA):

[Jesus said:] 43 ‘You have heard that it was said, “You shall love your neighbour and hate your enemy.” 44 But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, 45 so that you may be children of your Father in heaven; for he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous. 46 For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax-collectors do the same? 47 And if you greet only your brothers and sisters, what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same? 48 Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.’

‘For he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good’ (Matthew 5: 54) … sunrise on the High Street in Stony Stratford (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2026)

Today’s Reflections:

The Gospel reading for the Eucharist this morning (Matthew 5: 43-48) continues our readings from the Sermon on the Mount, and continues reading from a passage that has often been misused and misinterpreted.

I wonder how often this reading has been a crippling burden on new disciples as they seek to live out their Christian faith?

‘Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you’ (verse 44) – now that’s a tough one for everyone. And what about: ‘Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect’ (verse 48)? That’s seemingly impossible.

So, as I did yesterday, let me look at each of these challenges.

The phrase, ‘Keep your friends close and your enemy closer’, is often used in situations where someone seeks to convey that do not trust some of the people around them.

The word ‘enemy’ (verses 43-44) comes from the Latin word enim, meaning ‘against’. In English, it means someone who is against us or our interests. For example, an enemy might be a person who wants to harm us physically or emotionally.

The Greek word used here, ἐχθρός ( echthros), refers to some who is hated, under disfavour, inimical, hostile, an enemy or adversary. In the New Testament, it refers to enemies of various kinds, including personal adversaries, enemies of God, and even the devil as the ultimate enemy of humanity.

In classical literature, Aristotle and other Greek writers classified people encountered by characters in tragedy into φίλοι (philoi, friends and loved ones), ἐχθροὶ (echthroi, enemies), and μηδετέροι (medetoeroi), who are neither friends nor enemies but neutral. The characters and their audience seek a positive outcome for the first group and the downfall of the second, as the third group watch on passively or offer commentary.

Can we seek the downfall of our enemies, yet want what is best for them in God’s eyes?

At the time of Christ, ‘love’ and ‘hate,’ were not understood in terms of internal emotional feelings, or attitudes. He is not asking us to romantically or unquestioningly love our enemies.

People then did not understand ‘love’ and ‘hate’ in Jungian or Freudian psychological terms. They were internal states that had immediate connotations of corresponding external expressions.

The word ἀγαπάω (agapao) conveys ideas about welcoming others, entertaining them, seeking their better good, to be happy for them, to be content with the blessings they have received. Μισέω (miséo) means to hate in the sense of detesting.

To love our enemies does not mean to have romantic feelings for them, or to consider taking them out on dinner date, still less marrying them. It means to be attached to them, to be devoted to them, to be loyal to them, to seek their better good, to hope that they are treated fairly and justly. And to do that truly, our outward behaviour towards them must reflect our inner feelings.

Perhaps it would be easier merely to like them rather than to hope for the best for them.

But as Christ points out, God treats God’s enemies – the evil and the unrighteous – in the same as God treats God’s friends – the good and the righteous. Should we not do the same?

We are living in a world where the US President deploys special forces on the streets against his own people and thinks it better to indulge himself on his birthday in an ugly and vulgar display of cage fighting on the White House lawn rather than seeking justice, mercy and peace.

We live in a world where war is escalating hour by hour, as we seen in the Gulf, the Middle East, and in Russia and Ukraine.

We are living in a world where refugees and asylum seekers are dehumanised by the far-right and hateful crowds stirred up in rage on the streets for political gains and a handful of votes, where hostages have been held as bargaining tools, where starvation is used as a weapon of war, where a Republican politician suggested last year that it was a good idea to tar and feather the Governor of California only days before Democrat politicians were shot at home and on their doorsteps, where the Governor of Florida says it is legal for drivers to run over protesters with their cars, where a referee is barred from the US and taking part in the World Cup simply for no other obvious reason than he is black and African.

Wanting for our enemies what is the best for them in God’s eyes does not mean not praying to be defended against their evil, still less not wanting their downfall.

As the collect prays this week:

‘Lord, you have taught us
that all our doings without love are nothing worth:
send your Holy Spirit
and pour into our hearts that most excellent gift of love,
the true bond of peace and of all virtues …

If we are kind only to those we are close to, are we not simply repeating what those we hate also do? Where is the merit in doing that?

To be children of God is to be perfect enough.

‘He … sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous’ (Matthew 5: 45) … reflections in the rain at the Old George on the High Street in Stony Stratford (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2026)

Today’s Prayers (Tuesday 16 June 2026):

In Pray with the World Church, the prayer diary of the Anglican mission agency USPG (United Society Partners in the Gospel), the theme this week, from 14 to 20 June 2026 (pp 10-11), is ‘Rooted in Compassion’. This theme was introduced on Sunday by the Ven Titus Oluwalusi, the Anglican Chaplain at Saint John’s Church in Casablanca, Morocco.

The USPG prayer diary today (Tuesday 16 June 2026) invites us to pray:

Gracious God, we thank you for the international congregation at Saint John’s, Casablanca. We pray that the church will be a place of welcome, hope, and community for all who attend.

The Collect:

Most merciful redeemer,
who gave to your bishop Richard a love of learning,
a zeal for souls and a devotion to the poor:
grant that, encouraged by his example,
we may know you more clearly,
love you more dearly,
and follow you more nearly,
day by day,
who with the Father and the Holy Spirit are alive and reign,
one God, now and for ever.

The Post-Communion Prayer:

God, shepherd of your people,
whose servant Richard revealed the loving service of Christ
in his ministry as a pastor of your people:
by this eucharist in which we share
awaken within us the love of Christ
and keep us faithful to our Christian calling;
through him who laid down his life for us,
but is alive and reigns with you, now and for ever.

Yesterday’s Reflections

Continued Tomorrow

‘Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect’ (Matthew 5: 48) … liturgical items in a shop in Kalabaka at the foot the monasteries of Meteora in Thessaly, Greece (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Scripture quotations are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible: Anglicised Edition copyright © 1989, 1995, National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide. http://nrsvbibles.org

15 June 2026

Changes in Bloomsbury
reflect how William Penn
is losing his place in
the memory of Quakers

Friends’ House in London … William Penn’s name has been removed from one of the rooms (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Patrick Comerford

I was meeting some people in the café in Friends’ House, London, the other day, to discuss shared literary projects, historical research and books. Our conversations over lunch and copious cups of coffee ranged over a wide range of topics, from family history and youth hostelling in Ireland, to the work of the International Atomic Research Agency in Vienna, church architecture and the role of the churches in providing a welcome for refugees and asylum seekers, to football and life in New Zealand, Ireland, Stockton on Tees and Milton Keynes.

It was one of those lingering lunches, where our conversations and imaginations ran apace, and we lost track of time.

But, having arrived at Euston Station a little earlier than I expected, and with a short amount of time on my hands before catching the train back to Milton Keynes, I spent some time strolling through the squares of Bloomsbury and also rummaging in the Quaker bookshop at Friends’ House.

Friends International Centre was once on the corner of Torrington Place and Byng Place, close to Gordon Square (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2026)

In the past, on working trips to London when I was a trustee of USPG, I occasionally stayed at the Penn Club in Bedford Place off Russell Square. It was a tradition or habit that dated back to taking part in CND protests and meetings in the 1970s and 1980s, and other members of my family have stayed there too.

So, it was with sadness that I heard a few years ago that the Penn Club was closing at the end of March 2021.

I have vague memories too of staying at another Quaker-run guesthouse in Bloomsbury in the early or mid 1970s. Friends International Centre was in an elegant cluster of houses at the corner of Torrington Place and Byng Place, close to Gordon Square, and a five or seven minute walk from both Friends House and the Penn Club.

The houses at the corner of Torrington Place and Byng Place stand close to the Church of Christ the King on Gordon Square (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2026)

Those houses are built right up against the Church of Christ the King on Gordon Square, once the University Church and now shared by Forward in Faith and Euston Church. The houses now seem to have been incorporated into the conglomerate of university buildings around Bloomsbury. But I was reminded of their past Quaker associations a few days ago when I noticed that one of the houses is now known as William Penn House.

That reminder was all the more surprising because the memory of William Penn has been falling out of favour among Quakers in recent years. Shortly after the Penn Club closed on Bedford Place, Britain Yearly Meeting (BYM) announced on 10 April 2021, ‘In a step towards becoming an actively anti-racist church, Quakers will cease to name a room in their London offices after William Penn.

Friends’ House on Euston Road houses contains the central offices of Quakers and has conference space that is available to outside groups. About 20 rooms in the building are named after Quakers who have made a difference in the world as a way to share the Quaker story with hundreds of thousands of visitors to Friends’ House each year.

Following much discussion, the decision to end naming a room in Friends’ House after William Penn was made by the yearly meeting trustees, working with the staff at Friends’ House.

William Penn’s name remains on one of the houses (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2026)

The statement in 2021 noted that ‘Penn, born in 1644, founded the state of Pennsylvania. He was an avid writer, defending religious freedom, democracy and pacifism … However, he also owned enslaved people.’

Paul Parker, recording clerk for Quakers in Britain, said, ‘Racism today is rooted in the trade of enslaved people. We are committed to tackle racism and to build an anti-racist culture. Commemorating William Penn by having a room named after him is incompatible with that. Some might say we’re rewriting history. Rather, we’re completing history, by telling the whole story and deciding not to commemorate someone who had a direct involvement in slavery. Part of telling a complete history is to acknowledge how it might previously have been understood from a limited perspective. We owe it to those who live with the legacy of slavery to take steps to redress this.’

Friends in Britain were not alone in thinking again about William Penn and other Quaker historic figures. Friends Committee on National Legislation, in Washington DC decided to rename William Penn House, a Quaker-run hostel, due to Penn’s slaveholding.

Back in Friends’ House, I spent a little time browsing in the bookshop beside the café. Looking at the history shelves, I imagine it may take a little longer to change the way William Penn is remembered among Friends. His name remains on one of the paving slabs in the garden celebrating milestones in Quaker history.

William Penn’s name remains on one of the history paving slabs in the garden at Friends’ House (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Daily prayer in Ordinary Time 2026:
39, Monday 15 June 2026

Barry Blitt’s ‘Out Cold’ cartoon on the cover of today's edition of ‘The New Yorker’ on Trump’s birthday cage fight … in the face of increasing evil in the world, how do we interpret the words in today’s Gospel, ‘Do not resist an evildoer’ (Matthew 5: 39)?

Patrick Comerford

We are in Ordinary Time and the week began yesterday with the Second Sunday after Trinity (14 June 2025). The calendar of the Church of England in Common Worship today remembers Evelyn Underhill (1875-1941), Spiritual Writer.

But, before today begins, I am taking some quiet time this morning to give thanks, to reflect, to pray and to read in these ways:

1, reading today’s Gospel reading;

2, a short reflection;

3, a prayer from the USPG prayer diary;

4, the Collects and Post-Communion prayer of the day.

‘You have heard that it was said, “An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.” But I say to you …’ (Matthew 5: 38-39) … street art in Dublin (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Matthew 5: 38-42 (NRSVA):

[Jesus said:] 38 ‘You have heard that it was said, “An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.” 39 But I say to you, Do not resist an evildoer. But if anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also; 40 and if anyone wants to sue you and take your coat, give your cloak as well; 41 and if anyone forces you to go one mile, go also the second mile. 42 Give to everyone who begs from you, and do not refuse anyone who wants to borrow from you.’

‘But if anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also’ (Matthew 5: 39) … street art in Plaza de la Judería in Malaga (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Today’s Reflections:

The Gospel reading for the Eucharist this morning (Matthew 5: 38-42) continues our series of readings from the Sermon on the Mount, and this is a Gospel reading that has often been misused and misinterpreted.

The suggestion, ‘Do not resist an evildoer,’ is in danger of being used to turn someone into a doormat, to tolerate domestic violence or to forgive constant physical or psychological abuse, to keep people from walking away from abuse, resisting oppression or even turning to revolution.

The translation, ‘Do not resist an evildoer’ (verse 39) fails to convey the full meaning of the underlying Greek. The word ἀνθίστημι (antheestimee) speaks of setting oneself against something, withstanding, resisting or opposing it. But it might better be translated as, ‘Do not violently resist an evildoer.’ The teaching here is primarily about nonviolence, but it is not about acquiescence to evil, still less about being complicit in evil.

Christ then goes on immediately to offer three clear examples (verses 39-41) of how to nonviolently resist an evildoer – in fact, how to publicly shame and mock an evildoer.

These passages are tragically misinterpreted because we have forgotten the original society in which Jesus gave these teachings. When Christ says, ‘If anyone …,’ he and his listeners knew instantly who that ‘anyone’ was. He describes three types of insulting and humiliating behaviour: slapping someone on the right cheek (verse 39), suing them in court for their personal goods (verse 40), and forcing them to go a mile (verse 41). These are not the kind of things anyone, just anyone, could do. They are the kind of things only a privileged few could do – and did – to the sort of people who were in the crowd listening to Christ that day.

So, let’s look at each of these in turn

Verse 39

Slapping the right cheek: This was done by masters to their servants and slaves, and it was always done by hitting with the back of the right hand across the right cheek. The blow was about asserting status and power over the other person. This is not about random violence or fighting among friends or enemies. It is about asserting rank, privilege and power.

In order to preserve one’s honour – to preserve one’s public standing – it is crucial everything must be done according to the socially accepted protocols. The slave must obediently stand facing the master without external coercion. The master must strike only the right cheek; and only with the back of the right hand. Any variation on this would show that he was not in control; it would be a public loss of face.

Now imagine your boss has just slapped you on your right cheek; without saying a word, you then silently turn your head to expose your left cheek. It appears that you are becoming doubly subservient; doubly accepting his authority over you. But in this one movement you have made him powerless.

Turning your head hides your right cheek and presents your left cheek. But the angle of your head is such that the master can see, but cannot strike your left cheek with the back of his right hand. Try to mimic this with someone you know later today, and see what happens.

A move like this would publicly expose the master to shame and ridicule. You would appear to be meek and servile, obediently waiting for a second blow. But he would be totally helpless. He has three options: to hit you with the palm of his right hand; to use his left hand; or to walk away. To choose any one of these three options means he would lose face.

Verse 40

to sue you: Peasants did not sue one another. Again, this example of public humiliation is one about the abuse of the poor by those with power and privilege. Most peasants only owned the clothes on their backs.

What is being sued for here is not a coat, but a χιτών (chitón), which is an undergarment, usually worn next to the skin. To be sued for my coat would be humiliating enough; to be sued for my underwear would be truly humiliating. I would have nothing left to stand in. Going naked would be a radical way of exposing, laying bare, the shame which allows someone with wealth and privilege to take away the only thing a poor person owns.

Verse 41

forces you to go one mile: In those days, soldiers were allowed to conscript civilians to carry their packs, but only for a mile. However, this was no minor inconvenience for someone who depended on their work to feed and clothe his family. Walking a mile with a heavy pack and then having to walk back again would mean missing that day’s work, that day’s pay, and the food that pay would have paid for.

Offering to go a second mile would relieve another person of this unjust burden, but at the same time it would publicly expose the unjust hardship of being forced to go even one mile. Yet it does so in a way that seems to co-operate while at the same time bringing shame and ridicule on the person who is forcing you to bear unfair burdens.

Verse 42

Begging and borrowing: Begging and borrowing are complex social interactions that involve negotiating honour and shame, social respect and status, and money. But Christ’s teaching here is directed to those who have, and not to the have-nots. He is talking not to beggars and borrowers, but to those who are asked for loans and alms.

Christ tells us to treat all who entreat us as if they were our closest family. This surely breaks down the customary social barriers between the haves and the have-nots, it changes the social relationship to one of kinship. But when we come to God, begging and pleading, do we not come as children come to their father?

There are similarly difficult questions as we continue to read from this passage tomorrow.

‘If anyone wants to sue you and take your coat, give your cloak as well’ (Matthew 5: 40) … street art seen at the University of Padua (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Today’s Prayers (Monday 15 June 2026):

In Pray with the World Church, the prayer diary of the Anglican mission agency USPG (United Society Partners in the Gospel), the theme this week, from 14 to 20 June 2026 (pp 10-11), is ‘Rooted in Compassion’. This theme was introduced yesterday by the Ven Titus Oluwalusi, the Anglican Chaplain at Saint John’s Church in Casablanca, Morocco.

The USPG prayer diary today (Monday 15 June 2026) invites us to pray:

Heavenly Father, thank you for showing us perfect love. Inspired by your Son, Jesus Christ, cultivate in us this fruit of the Spirit, that through our lives your holy name may be glorified.

The Collect of the Day:

Lord, you have taught us
that all our doings without love are nothing worth:
send your Holy Spirit
and pour into our hearts that most excellent gift of love,
the true bond of peace and of all virtues,
without which whoever lives is counted dead before you.
Grant this for your only Son Jesus Christ’s sake,
who is alive and reigns with you,
in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and for ever. Spirit,
one God, now and for ever.

The Post-Communion Prayer:

Loving Father,
we thank you for feeding us at the supper of your Son:
sustain us with your Spirit,
that we may serve you here on earth
until our joy is complete in heaven,
and we share in the eternal banquet
with Jesus Christ our Lord.

Additional Collect:

Faithful Creator,
whose mercy never fails:
deepen our faithfulness to you
and to your living Word,
Jesus Christ our Lord.

Yesterday’s Reflections

Continued Tomorrow

‘Give to everyone who begs from you, and do not refuse anyone who wants to borrow from you’ (Matthew 5: 42) … ‘Christ the Beggar’ … a sculpture by Timothy Schmalz on the steps of Santo Spirito Hospital near the Vatican (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Scripture quotations are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible: Anglicised Edition copyright © 1989, 1995, National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide. http://nrsvbibles.org