«Μία κλίνη κενὴ φέρεται ἐστρωμένη τῶν ἀφανῶν … Ἀνδρῶν ἐπιφανῶν πᾶσα γῆ τάφος»

A photograph in Corfu Restaurant in Dublin of the changing of the guard at the Tomb of the Unknown Solider in Greece … a proud symbol of Greek resilience (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2015)

Patrick Comerford

Trust has been lost, time has run out, and the bailout that runs out tomorrow [Tuesday] is not going to be extended until after the referendum in Greece next Sunday [6 July 2015].

Politicians and commentators alike are speaking about inevitable aftershocks. But the truth is it is impossible to say what the week ahead holds for Greece, let alone what Greece is going to have to endure after the referendum.

The Greek government is likely to run out of money to pay pensions and public sector salaries. It has already stopped paying suppliers, many of them are being pushed to the wall, and businesses and individual taxpayers are withholding their payments.

The one certainly is the Greek collective sense of resilience in the face of insulting ultimatums or overbearing and overpowering pressures and from outsiders.

Herodotus, recounting an incident before the Battle of Thermopylae, recalls how Dienekes of Sparta was told that the Persian archers were so numerous that when they shot their volleys, their arrows would blot out the sun. He responded with laconic resilience: “So much the better, we’ll fight in the shade.”

The last time a referendum was held in Greece was over 40 years ago, when Greeks voted for the abolition of the monarchy on 8 December 1974.

Before they fell, the colonels’ regime had already staged a plebiscite on 29 July 1973, establishing a republic. However, after the fall of the colonels, the new government, under Constantine Karamanlis decreed all military actions had been illegal, and a new referendum was called.

The proposal from the Karamanlis government was backed by 69.2% of voters with a turnout of 75.6%. Indeed, in Crete more than 90% of the people voted or a republic, and in about 30 constituencies the vote for a republic was around 60-70%.

When the results were announced, Karamanlis declared “a cancer has been removed from the body of the nation today.”

The Greek nation today is caught in a sense of uncertainty not just about the future, but even about the present.

Greek protesters say «'Οχι» (“No!”) in front of Parliament and the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier in Athens yesterday (Photograph: Angelos Tzortzinis/AFP/Guardian)

But throughout the last two centuries, Greeks have responded to war, invasion, occupation, civil war, uncertainty, instability, economic depression and political oppression with a strong collective sense of resilience. In 1940, the Greek Prime Minister, Ioannis Metaxas, responded to the war-time ultimatum from invading Italians and Germans with a single-word laconcic riposte: «'Οχι» (“No!”).

In the past, the traditional Greek safety nets in any economic crisis were the family, the black economy, seasonal tourism, emigration and the pensions of parents and grandparents. But the old certainties can no longer be relied on in the same way. Pensions are withering away, more family members are dependent on them, the black economy is the target of all clampdowns, and if the Troika negotiators are to get their way, increased VAT levels on tourism may kill off many centres of popular tourism.

One opposition deputy claimed at the weekend that the government is presenting voters with a false choice: “The real question is, Euro or Drachma? And I am sure that the Greeks will once again say yes to Greece’s European perspective. Greece cannot become Albania and Skopje.”

Old money or new money … is the real question the Euro or the Drachma? (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2015)

The collective sense of uncertainty was visible throughout the weekend in the endless queues outside ATMs throughout Greece. The banks are going to close today in an attempt to avoid financial panic. But are they going to open tomorrow? Is there going to be a problem about accessing personal cash? Are wages, pensions and bills going to be paid? Is there going to be a run on the banks?

Greeks will be restricted to taking out just €60 a day for the next week, some reports say tourists may have access to up to €200 a day, and the banks are not going to re-open until next Tuesday (7 July), two days after the referendum. This may be a minor inconvenience for tourists this week, but for people who live in Greece access to their deposits could become a major crisis, with severe anxieties about savings, about paying bills, about paying for day-to-day necessities.

The ATM machine at the National Bank of Greece in Tsouderon Stree, Rethymnon (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

The collective sense of resilience is symbolised for many Greeks in the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier (Μνημείο του Αγνώστου Στρατιώτη), at the bottom of a high wall surrounding the Parliament Building in Syntagma Square, Athens.

Protesters have gathered along the top of this wall constantly in recent days and nights. The wall displays a relief that depicts a fallen soldier, and is surrounded by quotations from the funeral oration by Pericles. To the left and right are further inscriptions that tell of historic battles where Greek soldiers took part – the most recent one in Cyprus in 1974, the year of the last referendum in Greece.

The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier is is guarded day and night by two Evzones from the presidential guard, dressed in traditional uniforms. Every hour, the ceremony of changing the guard takes place at the Tomb, and once a week, at 11 am every Sunday, the official guard change takes place.

The monument was inaugurated on 25 March 1932. The central sculpture by Kostantinnos Dimitiradis is a low relief depicting a dying hoplite or citizen soldier of Ancient Greek. These hoplites or citizen soldiers were armed with spears and shields and their main tactic was the phalanx formation. They were primarily free citizens – farmers with property or artisans – who could afford the bronze armour suit and weapons. Then, as now, the people who could afford it bore the cost of maintaining the security of society, and they did it with characteristic Greek resilience.

In classical Greece, the survivors of a battle gathered their dead and placed them on beds for the funeral rituals. They also placed on each bed several personal belongings of the dead soldier. In addition, there was one more bed that was ready, but empty. It represented those soldiers who had died in the battle but had not been found. These unknown soldiers did not remain unsung heroes, and their heroism was celebrated too.

On each side of the sculpture of the dying hoplite there is an inscription with a quotation by Thucydides from the Funeral Oration by Pericles.

On the left is written: «Μία κλίνη κενὴ φέρεται ἐστρωμένη τῶν ἀφανῶν», “and one bed is carried empty, made for the unknown ones” (2.34.3).

On the right are the words: «Ἀνδρῶν ἐπιφανῶν πᾶσα γῆ τάφος», “The whole earth is the burial ground of famous men” or “For heroes have the whole earth is their tomb” (2.43.3).

When Leonidas was in charge of guarding the narrow mountain pass at Thermopylae with just 7,000 Greeks, endeavouring to delay the invading Persian army, Xerxes offered to spare his men if they gave up their arms. Leonidas replied: «Μολών λαβέ» (Molén labé), “Come and take them.”

Philip II of Macedon, father of Alexander the Great, once sent an ultimatum to Sparta, warning: “If I invade Laconia you will be destroyed, never to rise again.” The Spartans replied with a single word: “If” («αἴκα»). Neither father nor son ever tried to capture Sparta.

It is this collective and communal resilience that has been displayed by Greeks throughout the present crisis so far.

The government party, Syriza, has called a mass rally in Syntagma Square tonight to say «'Οχι» (“No!”) to austerity. It seems the Greek answer in Sunday’s referendum to demands that are seen as being made primarily by Germany is going to be expressed once again, like Metaxas, with resilience in that simple yet laconic, single-worded reply: «'Οχι».

Sunset on the harbour in Rethymnon … in the last referendum in Greece, in 1974, over 90% of people of Crete voted to abolish the monarchy (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2015)

Mark 13: 24-37: ‘the Son of Man coming in clouds’ on the First Sunday of Advent

‘Then they will see the Son of Man coming’ (Mark 13: 26) … the King of Kings and Great High Priest, an icon from Mount Athos (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Patrick Comerford

In this tutorial group we are looking at the readings in the Revised Common Lectionary for Sunday week. The Sunday after next, 30 November 2014, is the First Sunday of Advent.

The First Sunday of Advent marks the beginning of a new Church year, and we begin a new cycle of readings. There is a three-year cycle in the Revised Common Lectionary, and we are about to begin reading from Saint Mark’s Gospel in Year B, which begins on Sunday week. But instead of beginning at the beginning, with the first coming of Christ at his Incarnation, we begin with looking forward to his Second Coming.

The readings for that Sunday are: Isaiah 64: 1-9; Psalm 80: 1-8, 18-20; I Corinthians 1: 3-9; and Mark 13: 24-37.

Mark 13: 24-37:

24 Ἀλλὰ ἐν ἐκείναις ταῖς ἡμέραις μετὰ τὴν θλῖψιν ἐκείνην
ὁ ἥλιος σκοτισθήσεται,
καὶ ἡ σελήνη οὐ δώσει τὸ φέγγος αὐτῆς,
25 καὶ οἱ ἀστέρες ἔσονται ἐκ τοῦ οὐρανοῦ πίπτοντες,
καὶ αἱ δυνάμεις αἱ ἐν τοῖς οὐρανοῖς σαλευθήσονται.
26 καὶ τότε ὄψονται τὸν υἱὸν τοῦ ἀνθρώπου ἐρχόμενον ἐν νεφέλαις μετὰ δυνάμεως πολλῆς καὶ δόξης. 27 καὶ τότε ἀποστελεῖ τοὺς ἀγγέλους καὶ ἐπισυνάξει τοὺς ἐκλεκτοὺς [αὐτοῦ] ἐκ τῶν τεσσάρων ἀνέμων ἀπ' ἄκρου γῆς ἕως ἄκρου οὐρανοῦ.

28 Ἀπὸ δὲ τῆς συκῆς μάθετε τὴν παραβολήν: ὅταν ἤδη ὁ κλάδος αὐτῆς ἁπαλὸς γένηται καὶ ἐκφύῃ τὰ φύλλα, γινώσκετε ὅτι ἐγγὺς τὸ θέρος ἐστίν. 29 οὕτως καὶ ὑμεῖς, ὅταν ἴδητε ταῦτα γινόμενα, γινώσκετε ὅτι ἐγγύς ἐστιν ἐπὶ θύραις. 30 ἀμὴν λέγω ὑμῖν ὅτι οὐ μὴ παρέλθῃ ἡ γενεὰ αὕτη μέχρις οὗ ταῦτα πάντα γένηται. 31 ὁ οὐρανὸς καὶ ἡ γῆ παρελεύσονται, οἱ δὲ λόγοι μου οὐ μὴ παρελεύσονται.

32 Περὶ δὲ τῆς ἡμέρας ἐκείνης ἢ τῆς ὥρας οὐδεὶς οἶδεν, οὐδὲ οἱ ἄγγελοι ἐν οὐρανῷ οὐδὲ ὁ υἱός, εἰ μὴ ὁ πατήρ. 33 βλέπετε ἀγρυπνεῖτε: οὐκ οἴδατε γὰρ πότε ὁ καιρός ἐστιν. 34 ὡς ἄνθρωπος ἀπόδημος ἀφεὶς τὴν οἰκίαν αὐτοῦ καὶ δοὺς τοῖς δούλοις αὐτοῦ τὴν ἐξουσίαν, ἑκάστῳ τὸ ἔργον αὐτοῦ, καὶ τῷ θυρωρῷ ἐνετείλατο ἵνα γρηγορῇ. 35 γρηγορεῖτε οὖν, οὐκ οἴδατε γὰρ πότε ὁ κύριος τῆς οἰκίας ἔρχεται, ἢ ὀψὲ ἢ μεσονύκτιον ἢ ἀλεκτοροφωνίας ἢ πρωΐ, 36 μὴ ἐλθὼν ἐξαίφνης εὕρῃ ὑμᾶς καθεύδοντας. 37 ὃ δὲ ὑμῖν λέγω, πᾶσιν λέγω, γρηγορεῖτε.

Translation (NRSV):

24 ‘But in those days, after that suffering,
the sun will be darkened,
and the moon will not give its light,
25 and the stars will be falling from heaven,
and the powers in the heavens will be shaken.
26 Then they will see “the Son of Man coming in clouds” with great power and glory. 27 Then he will send out the angels, and gather his elect from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of heaven.

28 ‘From the fig tree learn its lesson: as soon as its branch becomes tender and puts forth its leaves, you know that summer is near. 29 So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that he is near, at the very gates. 30 Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all these things have taken place. 31 Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.

32 ‘But about that day or hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. 33 Beware, keep alert; for you do not know when the time will come. 34 It is like a man going on a journey, when he leaves home and puts his slaves in charge, each with his work, and commands the doorkeeper to be on the watch. 35 Therefore, keep awake — for you do not know when the master of the house will come, in the evening, or at midnight, or at cockcrow, or at dawn, 36 or else he may find you asleep when he comes suddenly. 37 And what I say to you I say to all: Keep awake.’

Introduction

With the onset of winter, the sunsets are earlier each evening, and the sunrises are later each morning. So late that most mornings I am awake and out on my way to work long before sunrise begins to the east of the open space beside our house.

Most mornings these weeks, the sunrise is shrouded in grey clouds and the sky is filled with rain. But one morning last week, as I was heading out, there was a clear sunrise to the east, and the clouds in the sky were streaked with distinctive shades of pink and purple, with tinges of red and orange.

It was almost a heavenly pleasure.

I was only back from a city break in Lisbon, in warm autumn sunshine in Portugal. But in a moment of idleness that winter morning last week, I thought how this year, throughout this year, throughout 2014, I have managed to find myself visiting places that are snatches of heaven to me – waking up looking out onto the banks of the River Slaney on a crisp autumn morning; a few days here and a few days there back in Lichfield, in Cambridge, and in Greece; walks on the beaches in Skerries, Portrane and Bettystown. And there were tender moments of love with those I love and those who love me; and prayerful moments of being conscious of and anticipating the presence of God.

A colourful early winter sunrise in Knocklyon last week (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2014)

And I mused, in that idle moment that morning, that if these were my last days then this year alone I had managed to visit and to stay in places that are so close to my heart.

It is natural, as the year comes to an end, to think of final things and closing days. Earlier in the month, we had All Saints’ Day, (in some churches) All Souls’ Day, and Remembrance Sunday:

At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

At the end of November we then move towards thinking of the end, not in a cataclysmic way, but because with the beginning of Advent we begin to think of the world as we know it giving way to the world as God wants it to be, to the Kingdom of God.

What does the future hold?

For many people in Ireland today, the future is full of uncertainties. Although the government and economists assure us we have come out of the recession and there are many signs of economic growth, for many ordinary people they are still leaving under mountainous burdens of debt, with uncertainty about paying bills – figures published last week revealed the awful number of families who have no many left at the end of the month, which means they cannot plan for the future, they have been robbed of hope for their future.

Since the economic collapse of 2018, businesses have closed, jobs have been lost, savings and investments have withered away, and large question marks still hang over their pensions and their provisions for the future.

There is no doubt that in this country two of the major contributors to, causes of, poverty are ill-health and inadequate access to education.

Charging more for health care and for education ensures that more people are going to join those who are in the poverty trap, those who cannot pay more for health care and access to education, and those already there, cannot find hope for the future.

They may feel they are being fed with the bread of tears and given the abundance of tears to drink referred to in the Psalm in these readings (Psalm 80: 6), that they are to become the derision of their neighbours (Psalm 80: 7).

Many feel that we are still teetering on the brink of collapse. And when I looked at the poverty on the streets of Greece this year, and in some parts of Lisbon away from the gaze of most tourists, I realise what was waiting around the corner for this country, for the whole of Europe, and wonder whether we have had a fortuitous escape, or whether it is still threatening us.

The Bank of Greece ... is every European country still waiting for a similar economic collapse? (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

The word often used to describe these fears is apocalyptic – we talk of apocalyptic fears and apocalyptic visions.

Our Old Testament and Gospel readings for this Sunday morning are classical apocalyptic passages in the Bible. The passage in the reading in Saint Mark’s Gospel is part of what is sometimes known as the “Little Apocalypse.”

You can imagine the first readers of Saint Mark’s Gospel in, say, Alexandria. They have heard of – perhaps had even seen – the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem. Like their fellow Christians in other parts of the eastern Mediterranean, perhaps these first Christians in Alexandria have been thrown out of the synagogues, have been disowned by those they once worshipped with, they have been disowned by friends, perhaps even by their closest family members, and face discrimination, loss of social standing, and perhaps even loss of income.

The world as they knew it was coming to an end. They saw their heaven and their earth torn apart (Isaiah 64: 1). And they, like us today, needed some reassurances of love and we, like them, need some signs of hope.

But the tree bearing fruit is a sign that God promises new life. In darkness and in gloom, we can know that God’s summer is always new, there are always rays of hope and glimpses of love (Mark 13: 28).

And everywhere the messengers of God’s good news, the angels, appear in the Gospel, they almost always begin to speak with the words: “Be not afraid.” These are the angel’s opening words to Zechariah in the Temple as he is about to be told of the imminent birth of John the Baptist (Matthew 1: 13). These are the angel’s words to the Virgin Mary at the Annunciation (Luke 1: 30). These are the angels’ opening words to the shepherds on the hillside on the first Christmas night (Luke 2: 10). These are the angel’s opening words to Joseph wondering whether he is facing a future of disdain and a family disaster (Matthew 1: 20).

If we believe in God’s promises, we must not only set aside our fears, we need too to show others how we believe, how we expect and how we look forward to being the beneficiaries of hope, being the recipients, the agents and the messengers or ministering angels of love.

Olive trees in the hills above Rethymnon in Crete (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2014)

Planting for the future

It is said that Martin Luther was once asked what he would do if he was told the world was going to end tomorrow, and he replied he would plant a tree.

Some years ago, I was given a present of an olive tree and I was hoping to see it grow in my back garden. But heavy rains soon fell in the garden, and as winter closed in its leaves faded and it was taken away with the rains and the wind (see Isaiah 64: 6).

The dead olive tree was replaced with another one, and three years later it is in a much better state of health. But, if these were my closing days, I too would like to plant an olive tree, despite the unmeasurable variations in weather we are experiencing in Ireland in recent winters.

Some of us receive bad news from time to time. More of us know and love someone who has recently received truly bad news.

But if you were told the end is coming, if you were told there was no tomorrow, or no next week, what would you do?

Would you want to spend those last few days closing that business deal?

Would you finish a long-delayed project?

Would you want to take that world cruise?

Would you finish that great novel?

Would you join me in planting another olive tree?

Or would you rise early to glory in the sunrise, listen to the waves rolling in onto the beach, stand beneath the last autumn leaves falling from the trees by the river bank, or prayerfully watch the sunset?

Winter trees on the banks of the River Dodder last week (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2014)

And even though all those are true pleasures and blessings at one and the same time, I think, if I was told that the end is coming, that these are my final days, then most of all I would want to tell those I love how much I love them, and hear once again, what I know already, that I too am loved.

And I would want to tell God how much I love God and to thank God for all the blessings, all the love, that I have received throughout my life. Because of God’s generosity I have not been lacking in anything … in anything that really matters at the end of my days (I Corinthians 1: 4, 7).

So, if that is what we would do if we were told these are the closing days, maybe we should ask: Why not do that now?

Would you tell your children, your partner, your parents, your brothers and sisters, that one last time, that you love them?

Would you wrap the person you should love the most in one long, tender embrace?

We are the doorkeepers of our souls and our hearts (Mark 13: 34-37).

And if Christ comes this evening, tonight, early in the morning, or on my way to work tomorrow morning, will he find me sleeping on my responsibilities to be a sign of hope and a living example of true, deep, real love? (Mark 13: 35-36).

Will he find the Church sleeping on its call, its mission, to be a sign of the kingdom, a beacon of hope, a true and living sacrament of love?

In days of woe and in days of gloom, the Church must be a sign of hope, a sign of love, a sign that if even if things are not going to be get better for me and for others in my own life time, God’s plan is that they should be better (Mark 13: 27, 31).

In a world that needs hope, in a world that is short on love, then the Church, above all else, must be a visible sign of hope, must be a visible sign of love. If we cannot love one another in the Church, how can expect to find signs of hope and love in the world?

Advent calls us again to be willing to be clay in the hands of God who is our Father and who is the potter (Isaiah 64: 8), so that we can be shaped into his vessels of hope and of love, so that we can be signs of the coming Kingdom, so that our hope and our love give others hope and love too in the dark days of our winters.

On Monday week [1 December 2014], I am talking in the chapel about a “Spirituality for Advent.” Advent calls on me to create new space and to reorder my priorities. To be still. To experience some quiet. To be reminded who we are – God’s beloved children.

Mark Twain once said: “The fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time.”

What would you do if the world were to end tomorrow? You do not need to wait. You can do those things now.

Finish the work you started. Be reconciled to those who need you. Be faithful to the people and tasks around you. Undertake some small and wonderful and great endeavour. Be a sign of hope. But most of all – love the ones you want to and ought to love.

Why not? For Christ has come, Christ is coming, and Christ will come again, in the name of love.

Collect:

Almighty God,
Give us grace to cast away the works of darkness
and to put on the armour of light
now in the time of this mortal life
in which your Son Jesus Christ came to us in great humility;
that on the last day
when he shall come again in his glorious majesty
to judge the living and the dead,
we may rise to the life immortal;
through him who is alive and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and for ever.

Post Communion Prayer:

God our deliverer,
Awaken our hearts
to prepare the way for the advent of your Son,
that, with minds purified by the grace of his coming,
we may serve you faithfully all our days;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Canon Patrick Comerford is Lecturer in Anglicanism, Liturgy and Church History, the Church of Ireland Theological Institute. These notes were prepared for a Bible study in a tutorial group with MTh students on 19 November 2014.

After 50 years, ‘Zorba the Greek’ continues to challenge some myths

Zorba the Greek … the film was released 50 years ago in December 1964

Patrick Comerford

I was back in Crete this summer, staying in Rethymnon, an old Venetian town on the north coast that for years has been as close as I get to being at home in Greece.

There was time for walking on the beach, swimming in the sea, long lingering meals with friends, visits to galleries and exhibitions, trips into the mountains, time for prayer in churches and monasteries, and time to listen to some old but favourite stories.

A week in Rethymnon allowed the retelling of old stories (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

The best-known storyteller in modern Crete was Nikos Kazantzakis, author of the book that gave birth to Zorba the Greek, perhaps the best-loved Greek films. The book was first published in Greek in 1946 as Life and Times of Alexis Zorbas (Βίος και Πολιτεία του Αλέξη Ζορμπά).

The Oscar-winning film was produced in 1964 and next month marks the fiftieth anniversary of the release of the joint British-Greek production. The film was directed by the Cypriot-born Michael Cacoyannis and the cast includes Anthony Quinn as Zorba, Alan Bates, Irene Papas and Lila Kedrova.

Half a century later, most people now know syrtáki as a typical Greek folkdance. But as we drove across the mountains to visit the Monastery of Preveli and some remote beaches on the south coast, we were told that syrtáki was invented by Anthony Quinn as the dance scene was being filmed on a beach near Chania. And while Zorba has become a stereotype of hardy Cretan men, Anthony Quinn had a mixed Irish and Mexican background.

With two old myths shattered, I returned to the original novel by Kazantzakis.

An old story

Traditional Greek musical instruments in a shop window in Rethymnon … Zorba is a gruff but boisterous peasant and musician (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Basil (Alan Bates) is a half-English, half-Greek writer raised in England who returns to his father’s village in Crete to inherit some land and to restart an old mine. On the way, he meets Zorba, a gruff but boisterous peasant and musician.

When they arrive in Crete, they stay with Madame Hortense (Lila Kedrova), a French war widow, in her self-styled Hotel Ritz. Zorba wants to log trees in the local forest to fuel the mine, but the land is owned by a nearby monastery. He visits the monks and gets them drunk. Later, on the beach, he begins to dance in a way that mesmerises Basil. Meanwhile, they also get to know a young widow (Irene Papas).

The harbour at Chania … this area provided the locations for much of the film (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Basil sends Zorba to buy cables and supplies in Chania – in the book the town is Iraklion or Candia, where Kazantzakis was born and is buried. There, Zorba squanders the money on drink and women. When he returns, he rows with Basil and a local man who overhears the content of their conversation drowns himself in the sea. At the funeral, the villagers blame the young widow for his death, and despite the best efforts of Basil and Zorba, she is murdered by the young man’s father.

When Madame Hortense contracts pneumonia, word spreads that “the foreigner” is dying. The poor villagers crowd around her hotel, planning to steal her few possessions, and when she dies the house is ransacked and stripped bare. But she is refused a funeral because of her religion: “There will be no funeral. She was a Frank, she crossed herself with four fingers. The priest will not bury her like everybody else.”

Zorba eventually builds his machine to take timber down the hill and it is blessed by the priests. But all his efforts to make it work turn to disaster and everything is wrecked.

The film ends with the spine-tingling "teach me to dance" sequence, the two men alone together on the beach, realising that although life’s dance can be learned along many different paths, sometimes the destination is the same, no matter what route is chosen. And they dance syrtáki together on the beach.

The myth about syrtáki

Zorba and Basil dance syrtáki on the beach … but the dance is Anthony Quinn’s own invention

Zorba the Greek was filmed on location in Crete, mainly in Chania and the surrounding area. The score, written by the Greek composer Mikis Theodorakis who is from Chania, has remained popular ever since.

It was made on a tight budget of $783,000, but grossed up to $23.5 million worldwide, making it a commercial success and one of the top earning films of 1964. It won three Academy Awards: Best Supporting Actress (Lila Kedrova), Best Art Direction, Black-and-White (Vassilis Photopoulos) and Best Cinematography, Black-and-White (Walter Lassally).

On our way to Preveli on the south coast, we were told the story of syrtaki (συρτάκι), the dance Giorgos Provias choreographed for the film. Many think it is the archetypal Greek folkdance, and it is danced in countless restaurants, tavernas and resorts during the holiday season. But it is not a traditional Greek folkdance, and instead is a mixture of the slow and fast versions of a dance known as hasapiko.

The music was composed by Theodorakis, but the movements were contrived on location by Anthony Quinn. Superstitious actors wish each other well on stage with the greeting, “Break a leg.” Quinn had actually broken a bone in his foot on location, yet remained determined to continue filming. He improvised unexpectedly by mixing the slow and fast versions of hasapiko.

When he was asked by the production team what he was dancing, he replied: “Syrtáki.” His reply played on a Greek word for dragging, for Quinn should have been hopping when he was dragging his leg. No-one imagined that half a century on, syrtáki would be a popular Greek dance.

Syrtáki is danced in a line or circle, with dancers holding their hands on the neighbours’ shoulders. The dance begins with slower, smoother actions, gradually transforming into faster, vivid ones, often including hops and leaps. The Guinness World Record was set in 2012 by 5,614 people dancing syrtáki for five minutes in Volos.

As for Anthony Quinn (1915-2001), who was born Antonio Rodolfo Quinn Oaxaca in Chihuahua, Mexico, denied being the son of an “Irish adventurer.” He said his mother Nellie had Aztec ancestors, while his father, Frank Quinn, was the Mexican-born son of an Irish immigrant and once rode with Pancho Villa.

A writer’s inner conflicts

The grave of Kazantzakis looks out across Iraklion towards the Mediterranean (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

The adventurous Zorba is the antithesis of the bookish Basil. Zorba is a potential symbol of freedom in Basil’s quest to find freedom. In Zorba’s view, only people who want to be free are truly human.

In many ways, the conflicts that unfold in the book provide a way for Kazantzakis to work through his own inner conflicts. At one time he had rejected Christianity and sought fulfilment in Buddhism and other philosophies. But he returned to Christianity and later wrote powerful novels about the sufferings of persecuted Christians in Asia Minor and about the life of Saint Francis of Assisi.

For Zorba, the journey is more important than the destination. He claims to be an atheist, yet realises that Christianity is central to the villagers’ way of life. He tells Basil: “The highest point a man can attain is … Sacred Awe!”

The grave of Nikos Kazantzakis in Crete has a simple epitaph: “I hope for nothing, I fear for nothing, I am free” (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

As Basil sets out for Crete, he wants to rid himself of the Buddha and abstract thinking. He finishes writing a book or paper on Buddha only to realise that he has exorcised the Buddha within. Kazantzakis eventually abandoned his own experiments with Buddhism, and despite strong criticism of his writings, he received an Orthodox funeral in Crete, where was buried on the bastion above Iraklion, looking out to the sea. The simple epitaph on his grave reads: “I hope for nothing, I fear for nothing, I am free.”

Kazantzakis prefaces his autobiographical novel Report to Greco with a prayer: “Three kinds of souls, three kinds of prayers: 1, I am a bow in your hands, Lord, draw me lest I rot. 2, Do not overdraw me, Lord, I shall break. 3, Overdraw me, Lord, and who cares if I break!”

Icons and the True Cross

The Monastery of Preveli is celebrated in Greek lore, literature and movies (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

The monastery is built on a hill looking out to the Libyan Sea (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

In Zorba, the monastery has a treasured icon whose name changes from Our Lady of Mercy to Our Lady of Revenge, and Zorba also tells a story in which his grandfather takes a piece of wood and claims it is part of the True Cross.

I was reminded of these episodes later that morning when we arrived at the Monastery of Preveli. The monastery is famed for its role in struggles against both the Turks and the Germans in the 19th and 20th centuries, and is celebrated in Greek lore, literature and movies for its part in helping allied soldiers escape Crete during World War II.

The Monks of Preveli are proud of their role in revolutions and resistance (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Preveli, 37 km south of Rethymnion, is not one but two monasteries, with two sets of buildings. The Lower Monastery, dedicated to Saint John the Baptist, is now deserted and fenced off. It is another 3 km to the Upper Monastery, dedicated to Saint John the Theologian.

During the Turkish occupation of Crete, Abbot Ephrem secured the monastery’s privileges and estates through the protection of the Patriarchate. As a sign of its new status, he returned from Constantinople with a Cross containing a relic of the True Cross that remains the most revered relic in Preveli.

The monks in Preveli were actively involved in successive revolutions that secured Crete’s autonomy in 1896, followed by political union with Greece a century ago in 1913.

During the German occupation of Crete in World War II, 5,000 Greek and allied troops who fought in the Battle of Crete in 1941 found themselves stranded on the island. Many found shelter in Preveli and the monks found hiding places for the others in neighbouring homes and farms.

The Abbot helped organise their escape to Egypt on two submarines from the Palm Beach below the monastery. In a revenge attack the Germans plundered the monastery, stealing its most precious relic. The icons and relics were rescued and are now in the monastery museum, while the Cross has a special place of honour in the main church or katholikon in the monastery.

A monk’s disbelief

The cells where the monks live on the north side of the monastery courtyard … today the community has dwindled in numbers to three (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Preveli remains a working monastery (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

The monastic community in Preveli has dwindled in numbers, with only three monks living in the monastery today. It is a crisis in monastic vocations hitting many monasteries throughout Greece. But I was warmly invited into the katholikon by one of the monks.

He quickly realised I was a priest and asked me which Church I was from and who my bishop was.

“Michael Jackson,” I replied, “he is my archbishop,” and I handed him my card.

“Michael Jackson?” he asked quizzically. And he filled the vaulted church with laughter that was heartier than Zorba’s. He then brought me around the church, pointing out the icons, the patriarch’s throne, and other treasures. He then put on his stole, took the treasured Cross from its shrine, and blessed me.

I felt blessed as I left for the Palm Beach on the shoreline below.

The monk who opened the katholikon or main church filled the place with laughter before offering his blessing (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

The palm forest below the monastery and beside the beach (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Canon Patrick Comerford is a Lecturer in the Church of Ireland Theological Institute. This feature was first published in the November 2014 editions of the Church Review (Dublin and Glendalough) and the Diocesan Magazine (Cashel, Ferns and Ossory).

The beach at Preveli below the monastery (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Remembering the people of Levessi and modern Greece’s greatest politician

Eleftherios Venizelos (1864-1936) … this year, Greece is marking the 150th anniversary of the birth of the most outstanding statesman in modern Greek politics

Patrick Comerford

My posting earlier this week on the threat facing the former Greek town of Levessi or Kayaköy has drawn considerable reaction on social media, and Greek and Turkish media are continuing to report on the strong reaction to plans by the Turkish Culture and Tourism Ministry to hold an auction next month [23 October 2014] to rent the one of the most intriguing cultural heritage sites on Turkey’s Mediterranean coast, for 49 years in return for its restoration.

The Turkish reports continue to claim that “Kayaköy was abandoned after its Greek inhabitants returned to Greece in the population exchange between the two countries in 1923.”

But the truth is very different: the Greek population of Kayaköy did not “abandon” their town – they were forced to leave in a violent act of “ethnic cleansing” in 1923, after the burning of Smyrna (Izmir). Nor did they “return to Greece” – the town and the surrounding area had been Greek-speaking not merely for centuries, but for thousands of years, and since antiquity this place was the home to successive, multiple generations of Greek people who knew their home village in the Kaya valley as Levessi, and before that as Karmylassos.

There is a subtle irony in the fact the most charismatic modern Greek statesman, Eleftherios Venizelos (1864-1936) was born in Crete while it was under Turkish rule, while the creator of the modern Turkish state, Mustafa Kemal Atatürk (1881-1938), was born in Thessaloniki which has become the second city of modern Greece.

This year, Greece is marking the 150th anniversary of the birth of the outstanding statesman in modern Greek politics, Elefthérios Kyriákou Venizélos (Ἐλευθέριος Κυριάκου Βενιζέλος), who was born in Crete on 23 August 1864. People in Crete are so proud of Venizelos that every town and village has a street or square named after him.

Greece is celebrating other major anniversaries or centenaries this year, including the 150th anniversary of the incorporation of the Ionian islands into the modern Greek state in 1864, and the 400th anniversary of the death of Crete’s most famous artist, Domenikos Theotokopoulos (El Greco).

But the 150th anniversary of the birth of Venizelos in recent weeks focuses minds once again on the tragic circumstances that led to the expulsion of Greek-speaking communities like those in Levessi and other parts of western Anatolia over 90 years ago.

Eleftherios Venizelos was elected several times as Prime Minister of Greece, serving from 1910 to 1920 and from 1928 to 1932. He had such profound influence on the domestic and international political life of Greece that he is seen as “the maker of modern Greece” and is still known widely known as the ethnarch (ἐθνάρχης) or creator of the nation – a popular designation that has only been earned by two other people in modern history: Konstantinos Karamanlis and Archbishop Makarios of Cyprus, but never achieved by Andreas Papandreou.

Venizelos was the innovator of constitutional and economic reforms that set the basis for the modernisation of Greek society, and reorganised and restructured both the army and the navy in preparation of future conflicts. Before the Balkan Wars of 1912-1913, ahead of World War I, Venizelos played a crucial role in forming the Balkan League, a regional alliance that set in play the series of events that brought about the eventual fall of the Ottoman Empire.

Greece entered World War I (1914-1918) on the side of the Allies, further expanding the borders of Greece, and during the course of his political career, Greece doubled its area and population with the liberation of Macedonia, Epirus, and many of the Aegean islands.

Venizelos was constantly in conflict with the monarchy and royalists, and this clash paved the way for modern Greek political parties. After World War I, he helped incorporate many Greek-speaking areas of Western Anatolia into the Greek state, and he came close to the Megali Idea or the great plan of uniting what he saw as all of Greece.

The villagers of Levessi were forced to abandon their homes in 1923 ... the ruins stand as witness to a sad time in the history of Europe (Patrick Comerford)

His defeat in the 1920 election eventually led to the defeat of Greece in the 1919-1922 war with Turkey, and he was forced into exile. The subsequent Treaty of Lausanne led to the mutual exchange or expulsion of populations between Greece and Turkey, including the expulsion of the entire Greek population of the Levessi.

Venizelos was born in Mournies, near Chania in Crete, when it was still occupied by the Ottoman Turkish Empire. His father supported the Cretan revolution of 1866, and his father was forced to flee to Syros. The family was not allowed to return to Crete 1872.

Venizelos studied law at the University of Athens, and in 1886 returned to Crete, where he worked as a lawyer in Chania. He entered politics in 1889, when he stood as a candidate for the island’s liberal party.

In 1897, he supported a rebellion against Turkish rule. Following a massacre in Iraklion on 25 August 1897, The Great Powers – Britain, France, Russia and Italy – supported the proclamation of an autonomous state with Prince George of Greece as the High Commissioner and Venizelos as Minister of Justice from 1899 to 1901.

In 1910, he became Prime Minister of Greece. On 1 November 1913, the Sultan renounced all claims over Crete, thus ratifying the union of Crete with Greece. A month later, on 1 December 1913, the Greek flag was flying in Crete, and Venizelos was the Prime Minister of a united Greek nation that included his native island.

On 26 October 1912, the Greek army entered Thessaloniki, the city where Ataturk was born, and it would eventually become the second city of Greece.

In 1916, when Venizelos and his government declared war against Germany, Austria and Turkey, the Central Powers, a royal warrant was issued for his arrest and the Archbishop of Athens, under royal pressure, excommunicated him.

But King Constantine was eventually forced to abdicate and on 15 June 1917 he went to exile, leaving his son Prince Alexander, rather than his heir Prince George, on the throne. Many prominent royalists were deported or forced into exile. Venizelos returned to Athens on 29 May 1917 and a united Greece officially entered the war on the side of the Allies.

After World War I, Venizelos reached an agreement with the Italians on the cession of the Dodecanese, apart from Rhodes, and Greece extended it territory in the area around Smyrna.

He survived an assassination attack by two royalist soldiers in Paris in 1922. Later that year, in a war-weary Greece, he was strongly defeated in a general election and King Constantine returned from exile. Venizelos left for Paris and withdrew from politics.

Greece was soon with allies or friends as the war with Turkey continued. On 26 August 1922, Ataturk launched a massive attack, the Greek forces were routed to Smyrna, which was attacked and burned before it to the Turks on 8 September 1922.

In the internal turmoil that followed in Greece, King Constantine was dethroned and six royalist leaders were executed. Venizelos was recalled to lead the negotiations at Lausanne in 1923.

Under the terms of the Treaty of Lausanne, signed on 24 July 1923, more than a million Greek Christians were expelled from Turkey, while more than 500,000 Turks or Muslims were expelled from Greece. Greece was forced to give up claims to eastern Thrace and the islands of Imbros and Tenedos to Turkey. The Megali Idea had come to an end.

After another coup forced King George II into exile, Venizelos returned to Greece and became prime minister once again. However, he left again in 1924 after an internal political wrangle.

He spent these periods of exile translating Thucydides into modern Greek, but in elections in 1928 his party regained power and he tried to end Greece’s diplomatic isolation by restoring normal relations with Greece’s neighbours.

In 1930, he visited Turkey and signed a treaty of friendship, although he was accused of making too many concessions.

He was defeated in the 1932 elections and suffered a second assassination attempt the following year. In 1935, he left Greece once more, while in Greece trials and executions of prominent Venizelists were carried out and he himself was sentenced to death in absentia. He died in exile in Paris and on 18 March 1936 and was buried at Akrotiri, outside Chania, in Crete.

Eleftherios Venizelos … he was brought back from Paris for burial in native Crete

Discussing ‘Sophia’ and a ‘Theology of the Body’ while celebrating the Nativity of the Theotokos

Icons of the Theotokos (Virgin Mary) on sale in a shop in Rethymnon (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2014)

Patrick Comerford

The Nativity of the Theotokos, celebrating the birth of the Virgin Mary, is one of the Twelve Great Feasts of the liturgical calendar in the Orthodox Church. This feast is celebrated today [8 September].

According to Orthodox tradition, the Virgin Mary was born in Nazareth to the elderly couple Joachim and Anna, who previously had no children, in answer to their prayers. Joachim was descended from the Prophet-King David, while Anna was descended from the first priest Aaron.

The tradition says Saint Joachim and Saint Anna were elderly but had not lost hope in God’s mercy. The story bears many parallels with the story Abraham and Sarah and the birth of Isaac.

When the elderly Joachim brought his sacrifice to the Temple in Jerusalem on one of the feastdays, it is said, the High Priest refused to accept it, considering Joachim to be unworthy since he was childless.

Orthodoxy teaches that the Virgin Mary surpassed in purity and virtue not only all of humanity, but also the angels. She was manifest as the living Temple of God, so the Church sings in its festal hymns: “the East Gate ... bringing Christ into the world for the salvation of our souls.”

Her birth marks the change of the times when the great and comforting promises of God for the salvation of humanity are about to be fulfilled. This event brought to earth the grace of the Kingdom of God, a Kingdom of Truth, piety, virtue and everlasting life.

We were reminded of today’s feastday this afternoon when the themes of incarnation, sexuality, sacramental marriage and the understanding of the body as key concepts for Christianity were emphasised by Professor Artur Mrówczynski-Van Allen, of the Institute of Philosophy Edith Stein, ICSCO, Theological Institute Lumen Gentium, Granada.

A Roman Catholic theologian and philosopher now living in Spain, he was speaking on “The Body of Freedom. Theology of the Body as Political Philosophy. Modernity through Saint Ephrem the Syrian and Vladimir Solovyov” at the annual conference or summer school of the Institute for Orthodox Christian Studies opened in Sidney Sussex College, Cambridge.

He drew extensively on the work of the Russian theologian and philosopher, Vladimir Sergeyevich Solovyov (1853-1900), including his book The Meaning of Love, in which he introduced the concept of syzygy to denote “close union.”

Solovyov described his encounters with the entity Sophia in his works, Three Encounters and Lectures on Godmanhood among others. His teachings on Sophia, conceived as the merciful unifying feminine wisdom of God is considered unsound by many Russian Orthodox theologians. He never married or had children, but pursued idealised relationships as immortalised in his spiritual love-poetry, including with two women named Sophia.

Solovyov’s thinking was a major subject later in the afternoon when the Russian theologian and philosopher, Dr Natalia Vaganova of Saint Tikhon’s Orthodox University, Moscow, spoke on “Russian Sophiology as religio-philosophical synthesis of culture noveau.” She asked whether Sophia is a metaphysical being, but also recalled that Solovyov’s idea of the “embodied Sophia” was popular among his contemporaries and how, during his own lifetime and to his great surprise, there were many applicants for the role, including Anna Schmidt, who proclaimed herself to be Sophia.

Solovyov looked to the establishment of the “perfect social organism, the Church,” and he believed that the universal religion would be the “real embodiment” of Sophia. This religion would have “positive love” as its foundation and this is infinite, universal, absolute love.

Solovyov’s thinking strongly influenced the Russian Orthodox theologian and philosopher Sergei Nikolaevich Bulgakov (1871-1944), whose teaching on sophiology was highly controversial. Saint John (Maximovitch) of Shanghai (1896-1966), in his The Orthodox Veneration of the Mother of God, condemned Bugakov’s sophianism, saying it was as destructive as Nestorianism, and he accused Bulgakov of attempting to deify the Theotokos.

Which brought me right back to considering today’s feastday as we prepared to celebrate it at Vespers in the Chapel of Sidney Sussex College this evening.

The speakers tomorrow are: the Revd Professor Andrew Louth (University of Durham), Metropolitan Kallistos Ware of Diokleia, the Revd Prof Nikolaos Loudovikos (University Ecclesiastical Academy of Thessaloniki), and the Revd Tikhon Vasilyev (University of Oxford).

Late summer sunshine in the Master’s Garden in Sidney Sussex College, Cambridge, this afternoon (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2014)

A street of honest brokers, despite the logical paradox posed by one of their poets

Epimenidou Street in the early morning ... an inviting narrow street in the old town of Rethymnon (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Patrick Comerford

The old town in Rethymnon has many charming, narrow side streets and back streets, often lined with tables from restaurants and tavernas.

One of the charming back streets is Epimenidou Street, with its boutique hotels and inviting restaurants.

The street takes its name from Epimenides (Ἐπιμενίδης) of Knossos, who is a semi-mythical philosopher and poet, said to have lived in the 7th or 6th century BC. It is said that while Epimenides was tending his father’s sheep, he fell asleep for 57 years in a cave in Crete that was sacred to Zeus. When he awoke after 57 years asleep, Epimenides is said to have found he was endowed the gift of prophecy.

Aristotle and Plutarch say Epimenides purified Athens after the pollution brought by the Alcmaeonidae, a powerful noble family who negotiated an alliance with the Persians during the Persian Wars, despite the fact that Athens was leading the resistance to the Persian invasion. Pericles and Alcibiades also belonged to the Alcmaeonidae, and during the Peloponnesian War the Spartans referred to the family’s curse in an attempt to discredit Pericles.

It is said that the expertise Epimenides showed in sacrifices and the reform of funeral practices were of great help to Solon in reforming the Athenian state. But the only reward he would accept was a branch of the sacred olive, and the promise of perpetual friendship between Athens and Knossos. He is also said to have prophesied at Sparta on military matters.

He died in Crete at an advanced age, and legends say he he lived until he was almost 300 years old. But another legend says he was captured in a war between Spartans and Knossos, and that he was put to death by his captors for refusing to prophesy favourably for them.

Several prose and poetic works have been attributed to Epimenides. But all of his works are now lost, and we only know of them through quotations by other authors. In a fragment of one of his poem, citied in the Hymn to Zeus of Callimachus, Minos of Knossos addresses Zeus:

Τύμβον ἐτεκτήναντο σέθεν, κύδιστε μέγιστε,
Κρῆτες, ἀεὶ ψευδεῖς, κακὰ θηρία, γαστέρες ἀργαί.
Ἀλλὰ σὺ γ᾽ οὐ θνῇσκεις, ἕστηκας γὰρ ζοὸς αίεί,
Ἐν γὰρ σοὶ ζῶμεν καὶ κινύμεθ᾽ ἠδὲ καὶ ἐσμέν.

They fashioned a tomb for you, holy and high one,
Cretans, always liars, evil beasts, idle bellies.
But you are not dead: you live and abide forever,
For in you we live and move and have our being.

But perhaps Epimenides is best remembered today because he is quoted twice in the New Testament.

While speaking to a group of Epicurean and Stoic philosophers in front of the Areopagus in Athens (see Acts 17: 22-34), Saint Paul, in verse 28, quotes from Epimenides’ Cretica: “For ‘In him we live and move and have our being’.”

In this address in Athens, Saint Paul is citing the fourth line in the Hymn to Zeus of Callimachus, with its reference to one of “your own poets” (Acts 17: 28). In the same speech, Saint Paul also quotes from Aratus’ Phaenomena: “For we too are his offspring” (see verse 28).

When Saint Paul spoke to Saint Titus concerning his mission in Crete, he committed a logical fallacy by quoting Epimenides: “It was one of them, their very own prophet, who said, ‘Cretans are always liars, vicious brutes, lazy gluttons.’ That testimony is true” (Titus 1: 12-13a).

The “lie” of the Cretans is that Zeus was mortal, for Epimenides believed that Zeus is dead. The logical inconsistency of a Cretan asserting all Cretans are always liars may not have occurred to Epimenides, nor to Callimachus, who both used the phrase to emphasise their point, without irony.

However, Saint Paul must have thought long about the idea of a dead god and whether the god’s tomb was dead as he sought to preach the Resurrection in Crete.

Epimenides is first identified as the “prophet” in Titus 1: 12 by Clement of Alexandria (Stromata 1, 14). Clement mentions that “some say” Epimenides should be counted among the seven wisest philosophers. But he does not indicate that the concept of logical paradox is an issue

Saint John Chrysostom (Homily 3 on Titus) gives an alternative fragment:

For even a tomb, King, of you
They made, who never died, but ever shall be.

However, it is not clear when Epimenides became associated with the Epimenides paradox, a variation of the liar paradox. Saint Augustine restates the closely related liar paradox in Against the Academicians (III.13.29), but he does so without mentioning Epimenides.

In the Middle Ages, many forms of the liar paradox were studied under the heading of insolubilia, but they were not associated with Epimenides.

Paradoxically, I have to say I have found the restaurateurs and tavern owners of Epimenidou Street, like all their fellow Cretans, to be truthful and honest.

Many years ago, back in the 1980s, as I entrusted someone with Crete with my wallet and valuables as I went for a swim, I was advised that it was tourists and foreigners I needed to watch out for.

How the Church of Crete has retained its independence over the centuries

The majestic interior of a church in Rethymnon last week ... the Church of Crete has a unique tradition of independence (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2014)

Patrick Comerford

After my many visits to Crete, I am often asked about the Church in Crete, and how it related to the Greek Orthodox Church.

However, the Church of Crete is a very unique Church and has closer links with the Ecumenical Patriarchate of Constantinople that with the Church of Greece.

The canonical territory of the Church of Greece (Ἐκκλησία τῆς Ἑλλάδος) is confined to the borders of Greece prior to the Balkan Wars of 1912-1913. This means the rest of Greece, including Thessaloniki, the Dodecanese and Crete are part of the jurisdiction of the Ecumenical Patriarch of Constantinople. In practice, most of these dioceses are administered as part of the Church of Greece under an agreement between the Archbishop of Athens and the Patriarch of Constantinople.

However, the Church of Crete (Εκκλησία της Κρήτης), as well the dioceses in the Dodecanese such as Rhodes and Samos, and the Monastic Republic of Holy Mount Athos, stand apart. They remain under the direct jurisdiction of the Patriarch of Constantinople, and have never become part of the Church of Greece.

The Church of Crete in particular enjoys semi-autonomous status. New bishops are elected by the Holy Synod of Crete, and the Archbishop is appointed by the Ecumenical Patriarch from a three-person list drawn by the Greek Ministry of National Education and Religious Affairs from among the serving Metropolitans or Bishops of Crete.

The Church of Crete covers the whole island of Crete and the current Archbishop of Crete, since 30 August 2006, is Archbishop Irinaios Athanasiadis.

The Church of Crete is rooted in the Apostolic Church, for Christianity came to Crete during the Apostolic era The Acts of the Apostles record that people from Crete were present in Jerusalem when the Apostle Peter was preaching at Pentecost (see Acts 2: 11). Later, about the year 64, Saint Paul appointed his disciple Saint Titus to lead the preaching of the Gospel among the heathens on Crete as the first bishop of the island.

Ten Christians were martyred in Crete during the reign of Emperor Decius (249-251) and are remembered on the island as kallinikoi martyres.

As the Church grew in Crete, a synod of bishops, headed by an archbishop, was established and this became one of the 12 archdioceses in the Balkan region or Illyria.

The episcopal succession after Saint Titus is largely forgotten. But in the second century, Philippos is mentioned as a bishop, and Cyril and Eumenios are recorded as later Bishops of Gortyna.

Under the Roman Empire, the city of Gortyna was the civil administrative centre of the island and the seat of the Archbishop of Crete.

In the sixth century, probably during the reign of Justinian, a basilica was built in Gortys in honour of Saint Titus. At the beginning of the eighth century, there were 12 bishoprics in Crete, which was called “the twelve-throne island.” But the in these early centuries, the number of dioceses in Crete fluctuated between 12 and 20.

During the iconoclast controversy in the eighth century, Saint Andrew of Jerusalem was Archbishop of Crete and maintained Orthodoxy on the island. He was one of the great figures in the Byzantine Church, a renowned public speaker and hymn-writer, who led the Church of Crete for almost 30 years (712-740).

He was succeeded by Archbishop Elias, who took part in the Seventh Ecumenical Council in 787 with the bishops of Crete: Epiphanios of Lambi, Theodore of Iraklion, Anastasios of Knossos, Meliton of Kydonia, Leon of Kissamos, Theodore of Souvrita, Leon of Phoenix, John of Arcadia, Epiphonios of Eleftherna, Foteinos of Kandanos, and Sissinios of Herronissos.

In the mid-ninth century, when Crete was invaded and occupied by Arabs who established their capital at Candia (present-day Iraklion), Crete was separated from the Eastern Roman Empire and the Church of Constantinople for a century and a half and for the next 150 years we know little about church life on Crete. Although the Ecumenical Patriarchate continued to consecrate bishops for Crete, these bishops lived outside Crete and their titles were titular.

In 961, the Byzantine general Nicephorus Phocas recaptured Crete, and the island remained a part of the Eastern Roman Empire until the Venetian invasion of 1204.

Candia (Iraklion) remained the capital of Crete and became the seat of the Archbishop of Crete. Under the Ecumenical Patriarchate, the Church on Crete was designated a metropolis, and the Church was headed by the Metropolitan of Crete, who was assisted by 12 bishops.

The Church of Saint Titos in Iraklion (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

A new cathedral was built in Candia, dedicated again to the Apostle Titus and probably on the site of the present-day Church of the Apostle Titos. The names of these metropolitans or archbishops included Elias in the 11th century, John (12th century, and Nicholas. With the Venetian invasion in 1204, Metropolitan Nicholas fled to Nicaea, with Bishop Gregory of Petra and Bishop John of Arcadia, but Bishop Paul of Knossos and the unnamed bishops of Herronissos and Agrion remained on Crete.

The Venetians ruled Crete from 1204 to 1669. Orthodox bishops fled, and the Church of Crete was reorganised on the Latin model, with a Roman Catholic archbishop and bishops. But despite having no bishops, the Greek-speaking people remained loyal to Orthodoxy, their faith was sustained by the monasteries and monks, and by the ordinary priests in the villages and towns, and the Patriarchs of Constantinople continued to appointed archbishops in exile who could never live in Crete.

These nominal archbishops included Nikiforos Moschopoulos (ca 1285-1322) and Anthimos, Metropolitan of Athens (died 1371), who both held the title of President of the Church of Crete.

The hard-working theologian and preacher, John Vriennios, remained in Crete for about 20 years (1381-1401), sustained the Orthodox faith in the island and debated with Roman Catholic theologians of his time, including Maximos Chrissovergis and Demetrios Kidonis.

The Turkish occupation of Crete from 1645 brought further changes to the life of the Church of Crete. The Ottomans placed the Christians of Crete under the authority of the Patriarch of Constantinople, who became responsible to the Sultan for the life of Christians on Crete.

Inside the Monastery of Arkadi (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

When Neophytos Nikousios, a monk from the Monastery of Arkadi, was consecrated Metropolitan of Crete in 1647, he was the first Orthodox Bishop of Crete since the Venetians captured the island in the early 13th century.

During the Turkish occupation, the number of bishops and dioceses varied from 10 to 12, and they maintained their historic names: Gortyna, Knossos, Arcadia, Herronissos, Avlopotamos, Agrion (Rethymnon), Lambi, Kidonia, Iera, Petra, Sitia, and Kissamos. Until 1821, the Metropolitan of Crete also had an assistant bishop whose title was Bishop of Diopolis.

In 1700, the Metropolitan of Crete gained a new title and became known as the Metropolitan or Archbishop of Crete and All Europe. However, the Metropolitan was without a cathedral, and had to make use of the Church of Saint Matthew on Candia (Iraklion), which belonged to the Monastery of Sinai.

After a lengthy and difficult struggle with the Ottoman authorities, Metropolitan Gerasimos Letitzis built the small Church of Saint Minas as his cathedra in Iraklion. The church was consecrated on 10 November 1735, and officially became a cathedral on 19 June 1742.

Inside the Monastery of Preveli (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2014)

Meanwhile, the Ecumenical Patriarchs used their influence at the Ottoman court to bring many of the monasteries in Crete under their direct protection as stavropegic monasteries, or monasteries protected by the True Cross, including Arkadi, Arsanios and Preveli.

After a popular revolt, the Turks retaliated with a massacre in Irkalion on 24 June 1821, and the victims included Metropolitan Gerasimos Pardalis and five of his bishops: Neofitos of Knossos, Joachim of Herronissos, Ierotheos of Lambis, Zacharias of Sitia and Kallinikos, and the titular Bishop of Diopolis.

The Church of Crete was left without a metropolitan for the two years until 1823, when Kallinikos of Anchialos was consecrate Metropolitan of Crete. At the same time, the Bishopric of Knossos was abolished and became part of the metropolis.

During the time of Metropolitan Meletios I Nikoletakis (1830-1834), the structure of the Church of Crete saw great changes, and the dioceses were merged to form five bishoprics. In 1862, however, most of the historic dioceses were re-established, apart from Knossos, which remained part of the metropolis.

In the 1860s, Metropolitan Dionissios Chanritonides began building a new, larger Cathedral of Saint Minas in Iraklion. The cathedral was completed and consecrated on 18 April 1895, under Metropolitan Timotheos Kastringannakis (1870-1898), the last Metropolitan to hold office under Turkish rule.

The Church of Crete, which has been self-governing since late Ottoman times, has continued to retain that status. After Turkish rule came to an end in 1898 and after Crete was incorporated into the modern Greek state in 1913, new laws were passed in Crete in 1900, and later in Greece in 1961 (Law 4149/1961) settling the legal status of the Church of Crete. Under these laws, the Bishopric of Herronissos became part of the Metropolis of Crete, and the Metropolitan of Crete was elected by the Ecumenical Patriarchate with confirmation by the Greek State.

In 1962, the Ecumenical Patriarch gave all the bishops in Crete the dignity of metropolitan, and on 28 February 1967 the Patriarch made the Metropolis of Crete an Archdiocese with an Archbishop. The title “Archbishop of Crete and all Europe” remains an official title that is still borne today.

The Patriarch nominates the Archbishop of Crete from a list of three bishops in Crete put forward by the Greek Ministry of National Education and Religious Affairs. However, the affairs of the Church, including the nomination of the other bishops, are managed by the Holy Provincial Synod of Crete.

Archbishop Irinaios of Crete and Exarch of Europe

The Church of Crete is composed of the present dioceses and bishops:

● The Archbishopric of Crete, based in Iraklion: His Eminence Archbishop Irinaios of Crete and Exarch of Europe

● The Metropolis of Gortyn and Arkadia, based in Moires: HE Metropolitan Makarios of Gortinos and Archadia, Exarch of Central Crete

● The Metropolis of Rethymno and Mylopotamos, based in Rethymnon: HE Metropolitan Evgenios of Rethymnon and Avlopotamos, Exarch of Upper Crete and the Cretan Gulf

● The Metropolis of Kydonia and Apokoronas, based in Chania: HE Metropolitan Damaskinos of Kydonia and Apokoronon, Exarch of the Cretan and Myrtonian Gulf

● The Metropolis of Lampi, Syvritos and Sfakia, based in Spili: HE Metropolitan Irinaios of Lambis, Syvritos and Sfakia, Exarch of Southern Crete

● The Metropolis of Hierapytna and Siteia, based in Ierapetra: HE Metropolitan Evgeios of Ierapetra and Siteia, Exarch of Eastern Crete

● The Metropolis of Petra and Hersonissos, based in Neapoli: HE Metropolitan Nektarios of Petras and Herronios, Exarch of the Gulf of Karpathos

● The Metropolis of Kissamos and Selino, based in Kastelli Kissamou: HE Metropolitan Amphilohios of Kisamos and Selinos, Exarch of the Gulf of Esperias, Crete

● The Metropolis of Arkalochori, Kastelli and Viannos, based at Arkalochori, HE Metropolitan Andreas of Arkalochoni, Kastellos and Biannos, Exrach of Pediados.

A lesson on the beach on how Ireland has much to learn from Greek tourism

The beach at Matala has been popular with tourists since the late 1960s ... today, tourism is cushioning Crete against the worst effects of the Greek economic crisis (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2014)

Patrick Comerford

The continuing success of tourism industry and the boost in tourism figures once again this year has cushioned people in many parts of Crete against the continuing problems besetting the Greek economy.

In Rethymnon, business figures told me last week that the town’s economy is cushioned with tourism accounting for almost 80 per cent of the economy, and education through the campus of the University of Crete making up almost 20 per cent of the economy.

Once again, Greece is enjoying a record year for tourism. Popular resorts were booked to capacity this month and last month, with visitor numbers this season expected to have jumped by 30 per cent, according to figures circulated by hoteliers and tour operators.

A leading figure in the tourism industry estimated recently that visitor figures this year would come in at 19 million, up on the record figure of 17.9 million already recorded for last year. More optimistic predictions hope for a record 21 million visitors to Greece this year, nearly double the country’s population.

Greece’s unemployment still stands at 26.7 per cent, the highest in the EU, wages and pensions have been cut by an average of 40 per cent, and in a country that is working hard at building its tourism sector, only one in four Greeks say they canafford to take a holiday this year.

But restaurateurs, hoteliers and shopkeepers were telling me in Crete last week that although many proprietors had invested in Russian-language signs in recent years, there has been a drop-off in the number of tourists from Russia, Ukraine and the Balkan countries, and they fear this may have been partly due to the present crisis involving Russia and Ukraine.

A warm welcome awaiting tourists at a beach-side taverna in Crete (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2014)

On the other hand, traditional markets such as Britain and Germany have recovered, and there has been some increase too in the numbers arriving on Greek islands on board cruise ships, although cruise operators continue to have a preference for the US and other destinations rather that Greece and the Mediterranean.

Tourism is Greece’s largest foreign exchange earner. This year, the figures could reach €13.5 billion this year, up from €12 billion, with spending per head up from €650 to €700.

A dolphin-themed yacht at the marina in Rethymnon last week (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2014)

But political stability and substantial private investment is needed if this growth in the tourism sector is to continue. For example, the season is concentrated on the few months of high summer from June to September, and there are few luxury hotels, high standard marinas or golf courses of the sort that attract high spenders, while the development of the site of the former Athens International Airport at Hellenikon, used for the 2004 summer Olympics, is taking longer than many expected.

Nikos Kazantzakis International Airport near Iraklion is the main airport on Crete, and after Athens International Airport it is Greece’s second busiest airport. The staff at every level, from check-in to security, police and the shops display traditional Greek hospitality, friendliness and courtesy. But the airport is still grotty and shabby and could benefit from investment and a complete makeover.

The transport ministry has plans at the end of this year to offer a concession to build and operate a new international airport on a green-field site in central Crete.

Earlier this month, it was announced that Google is to offer management courses to 3,000 tourism businesses on Crete as part of an initiative to promote the tourism sector in Greece.

The first initiative will begin in early September in southern Crete and could be extended later out to other parts of Greece.

Greeks hopes that Google’s initiative will help to extend the tourist season by improving the visibility on the internet of companies in the tourism sector through greater use of tools such as Google My Business and Google AdWords.

Economists say improving the Greek tourist industry’s presence online could help to create another 100,000 new badly needed jobs.

Sea traffic in the Boyne estuary at Mornington this afternoon (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2014)

But if the tourist sector in Greece can learn from Google, perhaps the tourist sector in Ireland could learn from Greece. After celebrating the Cathedral Eucharist in Christ Church Cathedral this morning, I joined three others in a visit to beaches of Mornington, Bettystown and Laytown on the coast of Co Meath this afternoon.

This is a very short stretch of coastline for an Irish county, and Meath County Council boasts that this is the “Gold Coast” of Ireland. The beaches are beautiful, and have undeniable potential, and the welcome at Relish in Bettystown was as good as the welcome in any restaurant in Rethymnon last week.

But despite its rich golden stretch of sand, the beach at Bettystown was filthy this afternoon, with plastic bags and dirt everywhere.

It is a beautiful experience to walk on and the views are spectacular. But cars are allowed to drive on the beach, and despite sings announcing a 10 kph speed limits and warning about the presence of children, quads were speeding up and down the sands, doing donut turns to cheering onlookers.

On a number of occasions this summer, Meath County Council has advised people not to swim at Bettystown after test results showed an increase in levels of bacteria, including ecoli. Yet Meath County Council and the Environmental Protection Agency did not erect signs at the entrance to the beach after high bacteria levels were found in the water.

This has been a good year for tourism in Ireland too. Restaurateurs like the proprietors of Relish, are providing a high quality service, investing in the local economy and providing secure employment.

But our beaches are important attraction for both home and foreign tourists. The tourist beaches throughout Crete – and I visited more than half a dozen last week – are cleaned regularly throughout the day and carefully managed for the benefit of both tourists and the local economy.

When it comes to tourism, Ireland still has a lot to learn from Greece – and perhaps from Google too.

On the beach at Bettystown, Co Meath, this evening (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2014)