Daily prayer in Ordinary Time 2026: 142, Sunday 27 September 2026 Seventeenth Sunday after Trinity (Trinity XVII)

He said to his sons, ‘Son, go and work in the vineyard today’ (see Matthew 21: 28) … in a vineyard Perpignan in the south of France (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Patrick Comerford

We are continuing in Ordinary Time in the Church Calendar and today is the Seventeenth Sunday after Trinity (Trinity XVII, 27 September). Later this morning, I hope to be at the Parish Eucharist in Saint Mary and Saint Giles Church, Stony Stratford. I also plan to visit the Greek Orthodox Church in Stony Stratford later this morning.

Today in the Jewish Calendar is the second day od Sukkot 5787. Yom Tob Day 1 started at sunset on Friday night (25 September) and ended last night (26 September), and Yom Tob Day 2 started yedsterday evening and ends this evening (27 September).

Meanwhile, before today begins, I am taking some quiet time this morning to give thanks, and for reflection, prayer and reading in these ways:

1, today’s Gospel reading;

2, a reflection on the Gospel reading;

3, a prayer from the USPG prayer diary;

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

‘Did the baptism of John come from heaven, or was it of human origin?’ (Matthew 21: 25) … the baptism of John in a window in Saint Mary’s Church, St Neots, Cambridgeshire (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Matthew 21: 23-32 (NRSVA):

23 When he entered the temple, the chief priests and the elders of the people came to him as he was teaching, and said, ‘By what authority are you doing these things, and who gave you this authority?’ 24 Jesus said to them, ‘I will also ask you one question; if you tell me the answer, then I will also tell you by what authority I do these things. 25 Did the baptism of John come from heaven, or was it of human origin?’ And they argued with one another, ‘If we say, “From heaven”, he will say to us, “Why then did you not believe him?” 26 But if we say, “Of human origin”, we are afraid of the crowd; for all regard John as a prophet.’ 27 So they answered Jesus, ‘We do not know.’ And he said to them, ‘Neither will I tell you by what authority I am doing these things.

28 ‘What do you think? A man had two sons; he went to the first and said, “Son, go and work in the vineyard today.” 29 He answered, “I will not”; but later he changed his mind and went. 30 The father went to the second and said the same; and he answered, “I go, sir”; but he did not go. 31 Which of the two did the will of his father?’ They said, ‘The first.’ Jesus said to them, ‘Truly I tell you, the tax-collectors and the prostitutes are going into the kingdom of God ahead of you. 32 For John came to you in the way of righteousness and you did not believe him, but the tax-collectors and the prostitutes believed him; and even after you saw it, you did not change your minds and believe him.

Rome or Paris? Black or White? … are all decisions a clear choice between conflicting contrasts? … wallpaper in a restaurant in Templeogue, Dublin (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Today’s Reflections:

Black or White?

Dog or Cat?

Land or Sea?

Wet Bob or Dry Bob?

Paris or Rome?

Wine or Beer?

It’s the sort of game we all play in our families at one time or another. I loved playing ‘Matching Pairs’ with my sons when they were at the early learning stage.

For adults, there are similar jokes about two kinds of people we compare or contrast: ‘There are two types of people: those who divide people into two categories, and those who don’t.’ For the mathematicians: ‘There are only 10 types of people in the world: those who understand binary, and those who don’t.’ And for those with a more subtle sense of humour: ‘There are two types of people in this world: Those who can extrapolate from incomplete data.’

The readings in the lectionary today give us contrasting pairs. In the first reading (Exodus 17: 1-7), we see contrasts between adults and children; water and wilderness; testing and thirsting; obeying and quarrelling; responsible freedom and slavery without responsibility. The Psalm (Psalm 78) contrasts images of ancestors and children, day and night, rock and river, and so on. In the Epistle reading (Philippians 2: 1-13), the Apostle Paul presents the stark contrasts offered in Christ of slavery and freedom, deity and humanity, fear and trembling, heaven and earth.

These images prepare for the matching pairs or clashing contrasts in today’s Gospel reading (Matthew 21: 23-32).

In the week before his Crucifixion, Christ has just shown the importance of faith in understanding God’s ways. Now, as he teaches in the Temple, representatives of the Sanhedrin, the chief priests and the elders, ask who has given him the power and authority to say and do all that he has said and done in his ministry.

However, Christ declines to answer them until they first answer his question, one that will show whether they have the faith needed to understand his answer.

Those who come to question Christ are skilled in the Law. But this is of little help when it comes to deciding whether a prophet is genuinely from God, in this case Saint John the Baptist.

If they say that Saint John the Baptist was from God, they ought to have repented as he urged them. If they say John was not from God, they risk losing face and credibility with the crowd who are now following Christ. The Sanhedrin judged such issues, but their answer shows their incompetence.

In the second part of this reading (verses 28-30), Christ tells a parable about admission to the kingdom. Like the first son in this parable, people once regarded as disobedient and having lived evil lives, such as tax collectors and prostitutes, have turned to God. But people like the second son, who have given lip-service to the law of God, have not lived out what they say they believe. The second son in the parable addresses the father as κύριος (kyrios), not merely Lord, but in the Septuagint a way of addressing God, yet remains disobedient. br />
However, there is still time.

The Gospel reading is set in the immediate aftermath of Christ’s entry in triumph into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday and his cleansing of the Temple. When he returns to the Temple the following day, he is confronted by the religious and civic leaders, the guardians of belief and tradition, who challenge and question him about his power and authority.

The ‘chief priests and the elders of the people’ are the leaders in the Temple hierarchy, and also at the apex of society in Jerusalem – questioning Jesus about what gives him authority. In particular, they ask what gives him the right to behave as he does, and especially the right to claim he is acting in God’s name when he is behaving like that.

It is a question that Christ might have expected, under the circumstances. The exchange takes place when he enters the Temple. The day before had been an eventful day: when Christ enters Jerusalem and the crowds hail him as king. He next goes into the Temple courts, he overturns the tables and the seats of the money changers and the dove sellers, and he speaks about the destruction of the Temple.

The Temple authorities have been offended. Quite naturally, they have to confront him.

Who does he think he is?

What gives him the right to force his way in and stir things up?

What authority has he to behave like this?

But, in a clever manoeuvre, Christ answers their questions by asking his own question. It was acceptable then, but every bar room lawyer knows now that you are not allowed to ask questions that allow only a choice between two convicting answers, loaded questions like: ‘When did you stop beating your wife?’

Loaded questions are loaded with presuppositions, often with built-in fallacies and false dichotomies. And the chief priests and the elders fall into a trap that every sixth-form debater would know how to set and how to escape.

There is a great deal of humour here. Those who are skilled in the Law failed to see the flawed legal trap. And in doing this they display their innate inabilities, their incomparable incompetence, their own failures in judgment.

In this reading, Christ answers with a two-part question. And once again, he turns the tables on those who confront him. They are taken aback; they are caught in a dilemma: if they answer one way, they are caught out; if they answer the other, they are still caught out. It is a dichotomy, a nd either way they cannot win.

As they are left mulling this over, Christ tells the parable of two sons and a father. The second dichotomy, the second comparison, the second either/or choice, is posed when Christ tells this parable about a father who sends his two sons, a willing son and an unwilling son, to work in the family vineyard.

It is a sharp contrast between being and doing. The two sons remind me once again of the T-shirt I have joked about for years and that eventually I bought in the Plaka in Athens with the words:

‘To do is to be’ – Socrates

‘To be is to do’ – Plato

‘Do be do be do be do’ – Sinatra

The American publisher Cyrus Curtis (1850-1933) once said: ‘There are two kinds of people who never amount to much: those who cannot do what they are told, and those who can do nothing else.’

But the two sons illustrate a serious dilemma: Those who respond negatively to what they are asked to do, may eventually do it … and recognise their initial wilfulness. Those who say they are going to do something they are tasked with, but then refuse to follow-up, to deliver, to do, refuse to recognise their own wilfulness yet persist in their sinfulness.

How often have we responded to people because of their words rather than their deeds and found we have completely misjudged them?

The two sons are asked to go to work in the family vineyard. One son says: ‘I will not.’ In a Mediterranean village culture, in which there is no such thing as personal privacy, this son’s reaction to his father shames the father publicly. The other son says: ‘I go, sir.’ In public, he appears to be what a good son should be.

But the tables are turned when we learn that the son who mouths off actually goes to work in the vineyard, while the son who seems at first to be good and dutiful turns out to be disobedient.

So, those who say they are compliant and say they are doing the right thing have headed off to do things their own way, while claiming they are doing what God wants.

On the other hand, Christ tells all present that even prostitutes and tax collectors who appear to be disobedient might actually end up with a true place in the vineyard. In today’s context, who are the people I keep excluding from the kingdom yet are being called in by God?

Paradoxes aside, most of us are not like one son or the other … most of us are like both sons, and wrestle with their responses and their approaches throughout our lives.

nvitation to a party, a book launch, a wedding, often have four little letters at the end: ‘RSVP’? Have you ever been one of those people who, anxious not to offend, sends back a reply saying yes, I’ll be there, and then something else crops up, and I fail to turn up?

I admit that at time I have been invited to events, ignored the RSVP line in the bottom corner, and then, at the last moment, turned up. And, I have to confess, I have, at least one or twice, accepted … and not turned up. On which evening do you think I was most appreciated, most welcomed? It is more forgivable to be socially awkward than to be wilfully rude.

When we strive with the demands of Christian living, with Christian discipleship, it is easy to be like one of these sons. There are times when we may find it difficult to do what God is asking you to do. We wait, we think, we ponder, but eventually we answer that RSVP and seek to do God’s will. We say ‘No’ countless times, and then realise how worthwhile it all is: labouring in the vineyard should be hard work, but it leads to a good harvest and good wine.

I have to be careful to distinguish between God’s will and my own will. When they coincide, there are countless blessings. But when they are in conflict, I need to beware of pretending that one is the other, that I am answering the Father’s call and doing his work, when in reality I am doing what I want to do myself, and telling others what I want rather than what God wants.

In The Great Divorce, CS Lewis claims: ‘There are only two kinds of people in the end: those who say to God, “Thy will be done,” and those to whom God says, in the end, “Thy will be done”.’

Doing and Being … advice on a T-shirt in the Plaka in Athens (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Today’s Prayers (Sunday 27 September 2026, Trinity XVII):

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 27 September to 3 October 2026 (pp 42-43), is ‘Power of Language’. This theme is introduced today with a reflection by Rachel Weller, Communications Officer, USPG:

‘Language is more than words; it carries culture, identity, and connection. It preserves memory, shapes community understanding, and gives voice to what matters most. At the USPG International Consultation 2026, the Right Revd Dushantha Rodrigo and the Right Revd Sally Hernández García shared examples of how language can both divide and heal communities.

‘In Sri Lanka, Tamil and Sinhala communities have long histories and rich cultural traditions. After independence, political decisions once excluded Tamil speakers from official recognition, leading to unrest, lost opportunity, and deep division. In short, “Two languages, one country; one language, two countries.” The Church responded by using language as a bridge, offering services, hymns, and liturgy in Tamil, Sinhala, and English so communities could worship together. “Presenting the gospel in different languages gives us credibility in a multi-lingual nation. No message means no hope at all,” explained Bishop Dushantha. Language here becomes access to the gospel and a pathway to reconciliation.

‘In Mexico, Indigenous languages continue alongside Spanish, allowing communities to express faith in ways that honour local culture. Translating the Book of Common Prayer and other liturgical materials is not only technical work but an act of inclusion and respect.

‘As a linguist myself, it was amazing to worship in many different languages. It offered a tangible reminder that God is not bound by language or culture, and that when every voice is honoured, worship and mission are enriched and made more complete.’

The USPG Prayer Diary today (Sunday 27 September 2026, Trinity XVII) invites us to pray as we read and mediate on Matthew 21: 23-32:

He said to his sons, ‘Son, go and work in the vineyard today’ (see Matthew 21: 28) … in a vineyard in Platanias, near Rethymnon in Crete (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

The Collect of the Day:

Almighty God,
you have made us for yourself,
and our hearts are restless till they find their rest in you:
pour your love into our hearts and draw us to yourself,
and so bring us at last to your heavenly city
where we shall see you face to face;
through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord,
who is alive and reigns with you,
in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and for ever.

The Post-Communion Prayer:

Lord, we pray that your grace
may always precede and follow us,
and make us continually to be given to all good works;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Additional Collect:

Gracious God,
you call us to fullness of life:
deliver us from unbelief
and banish our anxieties
with the liberating love of Jesus Christ our Lord.

Yesterday’s Reflections

Continued Tomorrow

‘John came to you in the way of righteousness’ (Matthew 21: 32) … Saint John the Baptist in a fresco in the Church of the Transfiguration in Piskopianó, near Iraklion in Crete (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

Making music with Handel and Hendrix with blue plaques in harmony on two houses in Mayfair

The Handel Hendrix House on Brook Street in Mayfair (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2026)

Patrick Comerford

Who are the inseparable pairs in your mind? Morecambe and Wise? Laurel and Hardy? The Two Ronnies? French and Saunders? Simon and Garfunkel? Lennon and McCartney? Flanders and Swann?

Without prompting, would you have suggested Handel and Hendrix?

Handel Hendrix House (previously Handel & Hendrix in London and the Handel House Museum) is a London museum dedicated to the lives and works of the German-born baroque composer George Frideric Handel and the American rock singer-guitarist Jimi Hendrix. They lived lived next door to each other at 25 and 23 Brook Street, Mayfair, separated only by walls and a mere 2½ centuries or so.

I was writing the week before last about blue plaques (5 September 2026), and this unlikely pairing of composers are commemorated with blue plaques on the façades of the neighbouring houses that now form Handel Hendrix House, previously known as Handel & Hendrix in London and the Handel House Museum.

Handel made his home in London in 1712 and eventually became a British citizen in 1727. He lived at 25 Brook Street from 1723 until he died there in 1759. Almost all his works after 1723, including many of his operas, oratorios and ceremonial music, were composed and partially rehearsed in the house, where he had a variety of keyboard instruments, including harpsichords, a clavichord and a small chamber organ.

Handel moved into 25 Brook Street in 1723, shortly after he had been appointed by George II as composer to the Chapel Royal. The house had been newly built with Nos 23, 27/29 and 31 by George Barnes as part of the planned extension of Brook Street, linking Hanover Square with Grosvenor Square, between 1717 and 1726.

Handel’s immediate neighbours on either side were from the upper middle classes and initially included the MP John Monckton, who later became the first Viscount Galway in 1727.

From the 1730s on, there are references to rehearsals of operas and oratorios at Brook Street by Handel’s friends and fellow musicians. Handel used the house for entertainment, composition and rehearsal, and for business.

After Handel died in 1759, his musical instruments passed to John Christopher Smith and his son of the same name, while the tenancy of the house and Handel’s clothing passed to his servant John Du Burk. The house remained largely unchanged until 1905, when CJ Charles converted the house into a shop, removing the original façade and the internal dividing walls. It was bought by the Co-operative Insurance Society in 1971.

Although the house is a Grade I listed building, its survival was threatened when planning permission was sought in 1982 to demolish five Grade II listed buildings, including Handel’s house.

The Handel Museum Trust Fund was formed in the early 1990s with the object of creating a Handel museum at 25 Brook Street, and after a long period of negotiations and extensive renovation work, 25 Brook Street opened as the Handel House Museum 25 years ago on 8 November 2001.

The house has been restored to look as it did when Handel lived there for 36 years from 1723 to 1759. It is a typical early 18th-century London terrace house, with a basement, three main storeys and an attic, and Handel was the first resident. The interiors have been restored to the somewhat spartan style of the Georgian era, using mostly architectural elements from elsewhere, since, apart from the staircase, few of the original interior features survived.

The museum has restored period rooms on the first and second floors of 25 Brook Street and exhibition rooms in No 23, the adjacent house on the terrace. In 2016, the museum expanded to incorporate the upper floors of 23 Brook Street, home of Jimi Hendrix in the late 1960s.

The Handel House Collection Trust has a collection of Handel memorabilia, including the Byrne Collection of several hundred items that were acquired in 1998.

The museum incorporates the upper floors of its neighbour at 23 Brook Street, the home of the American rock singer-guitarist Jimi Hendrix (1942-1970) in 1968-1969. These rooms were used for temporary exhibitions and events, but after fundraising, these and the rest of the rooms from the Hendrix apartment were opened to the public in February 2016 as ‘Handel and Hendrix in London’. One exhibit is a collection of Hendrix’s old records.

Both houses have blue plaques for their respective occupants. The blue plaque to George Frideric Handel at 25 Brook Street reads: ‘George Frideric Handel 1685-1759 Composer lived in this house from 1723 and died here’. The blue plaque to Jimi Hendrix at 23 Brook Street reads: ‘Jimi Hendrix 1942-1970 Guitarist and Songwriter lived here 1968-1969’.

The house is open to the public five days a week, Wednesday to Sunday. The museum has a lively events programme including live music, changing exhibitions, lectures and children’s educational events. Several performances of Baroque music are staged each month.

Romeo and Juliet? Burton and Taylor? Plato and Socrates? Mutt and Jeff? Tom and Jerry? Holmes and Watson? Watson and Crick? Mapp and Lucia?

But Handel and Hendrix? Well, that was a first for me in Mayfair this summer.

There are blue plaques to George Frideric Handel on the façade of 25 Brook Street and to Jimi Hendrix at 23 Brook Street (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2026)

The plaques that remember a day when nothing happened may also have the wrong date for a day that never was

Did nothing of note happen on Dam Street in Lichfield on 5 September 1782? (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Patrick Comerford

Plaques have been popping up all over the country with the words: ‘On this site, Sept. 5, 1782, nothing happened.’ I have seen them in Lichfield, in Stony Stratford, in Walsingham, and in countless other places the length and breadth of England, and I believe they can be seen in many other countries too.

There used to be one on Dam Street in Lichfield and another on Market Square in Stony Stratford, and I spotted one on Church Street in Walsingham about six months ago.

So, did nothing really happen in any of these places 244 years ago – or, for that matter, anywhere else either?

Did nobody famous die?
Was no-one born that day who went on to become famous later in life?

Did no-one die in battle or in bed, fall off a horse, win a school prize, get married, do something tragic, disastrous, profane or of subsequent consequence – anything at all on 5 September 1782?

These plaques look a little like the ones so often seen commemorating famous births, battles or royal visits, record-breaking achievements discoveries or ventures, misadventures, mishaps, misfortunes or even first-time firsts.

Real commemorative plaques are usually blue with white lettering, with some variations in colours, generally circular in shape, and usually erected by English Heritage or Historic England, sometimes approved by a local council, or put in place by an enthusiastic local history society.

The original blue plaque scheme was the idea of politician William Ewart (1798-1869) in 1863 and the ball was set rolling by the Society of Arts in 1867, when the first plaque was unveiled in 1867 to commemorate Lord Byron at his birthplace, 24 Holles Street, Cavendish Square, London.

The scheme has been run since 1986 by English Heritage and is now the oldest of its kind in the world.

But the plaques celebrating 5 September 1782 seem have started as a humorous prank, a good-natured gag to place what have s become popular novelties on buildings and bridges, houses and hotels, streets and shops around the world, satirising an old and much-loved tradition by memorialising the mundane and the ordinary

Tourists spotting them and stopping awhile may well ask their origins. The answer is found online and in gift shops, and the price is anywhere from £20 to £30. If you buy one for more you probably deserve your own commemorative plaque.

Did nothing of note happen in Walsingham on 5 September 1782? (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2026)

The date 5 September 1782 seems to have been chosen arbitrarily as a tongue-in-cheek specific date for a completely unremarkable day.

One suggestion is that the year 1782 is a design error, and that it should read 1752. Britain and Ireland, and everywhere else in the British Empire at the time for that matter, changed from the Julian calendar to the Gregorian calendar in 1752. The Gregorian calendar calculated leap years differently, and by 1752 the Julian calendar was out of synch with the Gregorian calendar by 13 days. The only way to fix this anomaly was to just change the date.

When the change was introduced, the calendar simply changed in September 1752 and moved from 2 September to 14 September. The dates in between never happened, and 11 days were lost from the calendar and lost to history as a result. The date 5 September 1752 is one of those, lost, forgotten missing days that no-one ever woke up to and nothing happened, a day when nothing could have happened.

As for William Ewart, he died in 1869, two years after his ‘Blue Plaque’ scheme was first introduced. And he has earned his own blue plaque in Hampton: he successfully introduced legislation to abolish hanging in chains, an act to abolish capital punishment for cattle-stealing, a bill establishing free libraries supported out of public rates, and a law to legalise using the metric system in weights and measures, and he was a strong advocate of the abolition of capital punishment.

True blue plaques and similar memorials, seen throughout England, including Lichfield, London, Berkhamsted, Norwich, St Albans and York (Photographs: Patrick Comerford)

Rutland’s struggles to survive as England’s smallest county, but it has its rivals, including London, Bristol … and Lichfield

Rutland’s name and fame have spread far beyond its small size … the Rutland Fountain in Merrion Square, Dublin (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Patrick Comerford

I was musing earlier this week (31 August 2026) on which is the smallest state in Europe, recalling my visits to the Vatican City, San Marino, Malta, Cyprus and the tiny territory of the Sovereign Military Order of Malta,and even stepping on the steps of the former supreme court of Andorra, albeit in French sovereign territory.

In a similar vein, I have sometimes wondered what is the smallest county in England. I have some of the places that make that claim, and as I was researching Monday’s posting on Europe’s micronation, I came across a feature in The Guardian last week (26 August 2026) on how Rutland’s council is due to merge with Leicestershire in 2028 and how some local people are incensed. Lucy Knight asked whether the county can hold on to its ceremonial status.

But is Rutland still the smallest county? Well, that all depends on which list of counties you work from and how you define a county.

The Historic Counties Trust lists 39 English counties, there are 48 ceremonial counties, 84 metropolitan (6) and non-metropolitan (78) counties, and the 48 former postal counties from 1974 to 1996, making England a confusing patchwork of administrative counties, ceremonial counties, postal counties and unitary authority areas.

England’s counties are the source of much regional pride, not least when it comes to cricket. To identify with Yorkshire, Devon or Northumbria is to invite certain expectations about your forthright views or your fondness for cider and clog-dancing. The historic counties continue to be the basis for county cricket teams. Sussex and Yorkshire, for example, continue to be widely recognised as cultural regions, significant in sport and used by many organisations as regional units.

Although Middlesex dates back to the eighth century, Middlesex County Council was abolished in 1965. Yet Middlesex County Cricket Club, and Middlesex University live on, and so too does the historic county of Middlesex, even though most of its inhabitants now live in the ceremonial county of Greater London.

Middlesex has disappeared as a county, but the Fitzrovia Chapel survives as the former chapel of the Middlesex Hospital (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

A major reform and reorganisation of local government in 1974 redrew the map of England and introduced metropolitan counties such as Greater Manchester, South Yorkshire and the West Midlands. Administrative counties and county boroughs were abolished, England, with the exception of Greater London and the Isles of Scilly, was divided into two types of counties: metropolitan and non-metropolitan counties.

Several counties, such as Cumberland, Herefordshire, Rutland, Westmorland and Worcestershire, vanished from the administrative map, while new entities such as Avon, Cleveland, Cumbria and Humberside appeared, in addition to the six new metropolitan counties.

A review of local government structures led to the Rutland, East Riding of Yorkshire, Herefordshire and Worcestershire being restored as administrative areas in the 1990s, while Avon, Cleveland and Humberside were abolished less than 25 years after their creation. Traditional borders were restored between Somerset and Gloucestershire (except at Bristol), County Durham and Yorkshire (towards the mouth of the River Tees, but not in Teesdale), and Yorkshire and Lincolnshire.

The case of Huntingdonshire was considered twice, but the commission found that ‘there was no exceptional county allegiance to Huntingdonshire, as had been perceived in Rutland and Herefordshire’.

The Duke of Rutland depicted on the Rutland Fountain in Merrion Square, Dublin (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Rutland is a ceremonial county in the East Midlands, described by Lucy Knight in The Guardian as a pocket between Leicestershire, Lincolnshire and Northamptonshire, and she repeats the claim it ‘is often considered to be England’s smallest county’.

If we go by the list of historic counties, Rutland is the smallest with a total area of 382 sq km (147 sq miles), and an estimated population of just over 41,000. It has the second-smallest population for a ceremonial county after the City of London.

Rutland is a rural county, and the only towns are Oakham in the west and Uppingham in the south. Rutland is so small that I only remember passing through it on a train between Cambridge and Birmingham that stopped at Oakham.

But despite its size, the name of Rutland has spread far and wide: Parnell Square, one of the oldest Georgian square in Dublin, was laid out in 1753-1785 as Rutland Square, and kept that name until 1933. Charles Manners, Duke of Rutland, was a popular Viceroy of Ireland until he died on 24 October 1787 at the Vice-Regal Lodge in the Phoenix Park, Dublin, now Áras an Uachtaráin, the official residence of the President of Ireland. His memory lives on in the names of Rutland Street, Rutland Place and Granby Row, Dublin, Rutland House and Rutland Street in Limerick, and the Rutland Fountain, an imposing monument in Merrion Square, Dublin, and a second Rutland Fountain in James’s Street, Dublin.

Rutland became a non-metropolitan district of Leicestershire in legislation that took effect in 1974. Under plans for local government reorganisation announced in July 2026, Rutland is about to become part of a new unitary authority area, Leicestershire and Rutland.

The City of London measures just 2.9 sq km, making it the smallest ceremonial county in England (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

But if we rely on the list of ceremonial counties, then the smallest county in England is the City of London, which includes Saint Paul’s Cathedral, Fleet Street, the Bank of England and the Stock Exchange. It is often known as ‘the Square Mile’, measures just 2.9 sq km (1.12 sq miles) and is the smallest ceremonial county in England and the smallest city in the UK by area.

Although more than half a million people work in the City of London, it has a population of only 8,583 people.

Surrounded by the modern ceremonial county of Greater London, the City is a unique local authority area governed by the City of London Corporation, which is led by the Lord Mayor of London, not to be confused with the elected Mayor of London. It is also part of the Greater London Authority, which shares local government powers in the region with the councils of 32 London boroughs and the City of London Corporation. However, it does not include two historic liberties, the Inner Temple and the Middle Temple, enclaves within the City of London.

Tyne and Wear, including Newcastle, Gateshead and Sunderland, is 540 sq km (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

If the City of London is removed from the debate, the ceremonial county of Bristol must be taken into account. It measures 110 sq km (42 sq miles) and was part of the county of Avon from 1974 to 1996, but then returned to being an independent county.

The Isle of Wight is usually regarded as part of Hampshire, but is also a ceremonial county and a unitary authority. It has a land area of 380 sq km (146.7 sq miles), so it is marginally smaller than Rutland, but larger than Bristol and much larger than the ceremonial county of the City of London.

Tyne and Wear, including Newcastle, Gateshead and Sunderland, is 540 sq km (210 sq miles); Merseyside, including Liverpool and the Wirrall, is 652 sq km (252 sq miles); and the West Midlands, including Birmingham, Coventry, Dudley, Sandwell, Solihull, Walsall and Wolverhampton, is 902 sq km (348 sq miles).

St Neots is the largest town in Huntingdonshire, now a local government district in Cambridgeshire (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

All are smaller in area than Huntingdonshire, historically a county in its own right and also, at times, claimed as the smallest county in England. Huntingdonshire has an area of 918 sq km (354.3 sq miles) and boundaries dating from Anglo-Saxon times. It became an administrative county in 1889. It was merged in 1965, with the Soke of Peterborough to form Huntingdon and Peterborough, which in turn was merged with Cambridgeshire and Isle of Ely in 1974 to form Cambridgeshire. Huntingdonshire is now a local government district in Cambridgeshire, and St Neots (33,410) is the largest town.

Cambridgeshire also incorporates the Isle of Ely and the Liberty of Peterborough, each of which was treated as a separate county in legislation in the 19th century.

The Isle of Ely in Cambridgeshire was under the jurisdiction of the Bishop of Ely from 1109 to 1837. From 1889 to 1965, it was an administrative county of about 970 sq km (374.5 sq miles). The Soke of Peterborough, associated with the City and Diocese of Peterborough, was part of Northamptonshire but was had its own county council. The Soke, also known as the Liberty of Peterborough, was abolished in 1965.

We might also consider the shires that were never counties. Large exclaves affected by legislation in 1844 included the County Durham exclaves of Islandshire, Bedlingtonshire and Norhamshire, later treated as hundreds of Northumberland.

Lichfield became a city and county, separate from Staffordshire, in a charter from Queen Mary I in 1553 and remained so until 1888 (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

But, of course, one of the smallest counties that ever existed, at least in name and with its own sheriff, from the mid-16th century and that will always be my favourite is Lichfield, one of only 18 towns and cities in England to have held county corporate status in the past. A charter from Queen Mary I in 1553 made Lichfield a ‘City and a County’, separate from the rest of Staffordshire, and it remained so for 335 years until 1888.

Richard II gave a charter in 1387 for the foundation of the Guild of Saint Mary and Saint John the Baptist, which effectively exercised the function of local government in Lichfield until it was dissolved by Edward VI, who incorporated the town in 1548, vesting its government in two bailiffs and 24 burgesses.

The corporation established in 1548 probably acquired legal rights to the surrounding land, but the line of the boundary at that date is uncertain. The charter states merely that the limits of the city and its suburbs ‘should extend as far as in times past they have been reputed and considered to extend’.

Queen Mary I’s charter in 1553 repeated this formula. She granted the charter in 1553, the first year of her reign, as a reward thanking the citizens and bailiffs of Lichfield for their loyalty and support during the Duke of Northumberland’s attempt to block her accession to the throne.

The charter separated Lichfield administratively from Staffordshire, making it a county of itself until it was reincorporated into Staffordshire in 1888. The charter also created the ancient office of the Sheriff of Lichfield, and the city remains one of the few towns in England that still appoints to this ancient office.

Queen Mary I’s charter to Lichfield in 1553 … it remained a city and county until 1888

The City and County of Lichfield extended to an area of about 14 sq km (5.4 sq miles), which is larger than the City of London, but smaller than, say, Bristol, the Isle of Wight or Rutland. The area of the Lichfield City remained so until 1934, when it was enlarged to 14.56 sq km with the addition of part of Streethay on the east, and there have been further adjustments to the boundaries since then.

The charter stated that Lichfield ‘should be a city and county of itself, for ever, and not parcel of Staffordshire. That there should be one sheriff of the city and county of Lichfield, to be chosen on the feast of St Thomas’.

The charter required the newly appointed sheriff to ride the boundaries of the city and county, a distance of 16 to 20 miles, every year on the Saturday nearest 8 September, the Feast of the Birth of the Blessed Virgin Mary, and to inspect and enforce the borders. This tradition continues today through the Lichfield City Council events, and the Sheriff’s Ride this year takes place next Saturday, 5 September 2026.

Peering through the keyhole, but is the Order of Malta Europe’s smallest microstate or an anomalous leftover?

The Aventine Keyhole is said to allow the curious to peer through three sovereign territories at once: the Order of Malta’s property, Italy, and Vatican City (Photograph: Order of Malta)

Patrick Comerford

I have been to some of the smallest states in Europe over the years. Both the Vatican and San Marino are completely landlocked within Italian territory, yet are sovereign entities themselves, with all the international rights and obligations that entails.

Malta is off the coast of Italy, but it too is a sovereign, independent, internationally recognised state and, unlike San Marino and the Vatican, it is a full member of the European Union.

I have missed out on visiting Monaco, Lichtenstein and Andorra, which are also counted as European microstates, although on one occasion I came close to standing on former Andorran sovereign territory when I stood on the steps of the court building in Perpignan, once the supreme court of Andorra although it is in French territory.

Cyprus, where I have worked and been on holiday, and Luxembourg, are too large, both in land territory and population numbers, to be bring the six European microstates up to eight in number. The Isle of Man, which I visited in my teens, and the many Channel Islands, such as Guernsey, Jersey, Alderney and Sark, are not fully sovereign as they are crown dependencies of the United Kingdom and they do not represent themselves in international bodies such as the UN.

The former Supreme Court of Andorra was once in the French city of Perpignan (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

While the microstates have sovereignty over their own territory, there are small autonomous territories in Europe that, despite having more or less own independent government, executive branch, legislature, judiciary, police, and other trappings of independence, are nonetheless under the sovereignty of another state. Some of those anomalous places I have visited include Gibraltar, which is a British overseas territory surrounded by Spain, but not a separate independent state.

And I have been to places that are unusual, such as Mount Athos, the autonomous monastic community in Greece, often described as a monastic state and under the direct jurisdiction of the Ecumenical Patriarch of Constantinople.

In Cyprus, I have passed though Akrotiri and Dhekelia, which is a British overseas territory, and I have crossed the ‘Green Line’ in Nicosia into the so-called ‘Turkish Republic of Norther Cyprus’, hardly a microstate as it remains essentially the Turkish-occupied part of the divided island and its statehood is not recognised by the UN, the EU, any EU member state or in international law.

The border crossing between San Marino and Italy … the mountain republic is totally surrounded by Italian territory (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

At times, counting these places is like counting sheep in restless or sleepless moments in the night, and reminiscent of the 99 Ealing comedy Passport to Pimlico, which I was writing about the week before last (7 August 2026). But over the weekend, I found myself asking whether I had missed out on listing one European microstate that I may also have visited in the past.

The Sovereign Military Hospitaller Order of Saint John of Jerusalem, of Rhodes and of Malta, to give the order its formal and legal name, is a sovereign entity in its title and in international law and it has diplomatic relations with many sovereign states and nations. It no longer has territory, and certainly not in Jerusalem, Rhodes, or Malta, all of which I have visited in the past. On the other hand, some of the order’s buildings in Rome, including its headquarters at the Magistral Palace, have special autonomous privileges in Italian law.

Although not a state, the Order of Malta or the Knights of Malta is a sovereign entity under international law. It has permanent non-state observer status at the UN, it has full diplomatic relations, including embassies, with 115 states, it issues its own stamps, coins, passports and license plates, and it has its own army medical corps.

The Grand Master, who is elected for ten years, is known as the Prince and Grand Master, and is both the religious superior and the Sovereign of the Order of Malta, and also holds the title of Most Eminent Highness.

The biometric passports issued by the Order of Malta are diplomatic and service passports and are said to be among the rarest in the world, with only about 500 in total. They are reserved strictly for members of the government (Sovereign Council), diplomatic corps, and select humanitarian officials, and they are recognised in over 100 countries.

The Battle of Lepanto (1571) by Karel Škréta above the altar in the Church of Our Lady Beneath the Chain, a church linked to the Knights of Malta in Prague (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Two friends on Facebook were having a discussion the weekend before last about the international status of the Order of Malta. One suggested that the Order of Malta, rather than the Vatican, is technically the pedantic correct answer to the question, ‘What is the world’s smallest state?’

Unlike the Holy See, which is sovereign over the Vatican City, the Order of Malta has no territory. However, its headquarters in the Palazzo Malta on Via dei Condotti and the Villa Malta on the Aventine Hill are granted extraterritoriality by Italy, and Malta extends the same status to the order’s historical headquarters in Fort St Angelo.

The Aventine Keyhole is a famous peephole in the green door of the Villa del Priorato di Malta in Rome. Looking through the keyhole gives sight of a perfectly manicured garden hedge framing the dome of Saint Peter’s Basilica. This unique spot is said to allow the curious to peer through three sovereign territories at once: the order’s property, Italy, and Vatican City.

The Aventine Hill is one of the Seven Hills on which ancient Rome was built. I stayed once in Sant’Anselmo, the Benedictine Abbey on the Aventine Hill, as a guest during a conference on the Church in China. The campus includes Sant’Anselmo Abbey, the offices of the Benedictine Confederation, the residence of the Abbot Primate, the College of Sant’Anselmo, as well as the Church of Sant’Anselmo.

The campus faces onto the Piazza dei Cavalieri di Malta, the square on the Aventine Hill created in 1764 by the architect Giovanni Battista Piranesi. Outside, on the square, tourists queue up in long lines to peer through the keyhole of the ‘Buco della Serratura’ as they are told that are standing in one state (Italy), looking through another one (Order of Malta), and seeing a third (Vatican).

The former Palace of the Grand Masters in Valletta is now the office of the President of Malta (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

I have visited the former Palace of the Grand Masters in Rhodes. The Knights of Rhodes were expelled from the island by the Ottoman Turks in 1522, and the surviving knights sailed first to Crete, then under Venetian rule, as a staging and regrouping point before moving on to Sicily and eventually Malta, becoming the Knights of Malta. They lost their last footholds in Crete in 1669. The knights were expelled from Malta by Napoleon in 1798, and the former Palace of the Grand Masters in Valletta is now the office of the President of Malta.

Ever since, the Magistral Villa has been at the heart of the Order of Malta’s institutional life, welcoming heads of state, ambassadors and visitors from around the world. It is home to Piranesi’s Church of Santa Maria in Aventino and to the keyhole framing the dome of Saint Peter’s Basilica.

No passport checks are needed for this experience – but then I’ve never been asked for a passport going in or out of the Vatican or San Marino either. Unlike Monaco, San Marino or Andorra, neither the Vatican nor the Order of Malta has an international football team or football league. Monaco has own international team, but AS Monaco plays in Ligue 1, the top tier of French football, and very successfully too. San Marino is currently the lowest-ranked FIFA-affiliated national football team, having won only three matches since their inception. Its chances might improve dramatically if either the Vatican or San Marino decided to sign up, and perhaps signing up the Order of Malta might even increase the moral tone of the pressure on Gianno Infantino to stand down.

As for the knights’ former territories, Rhodes is a part of Greece and Malta is a sovereign, independent EU-member state. And Air Malta is not the air force of the Knights of Malta – its a wholly-owned subsidiary of Ryanair, and it operates scheduled flights on behalf of Ryanair. It’s more like the ‘Nights of Malta’ and the nearest you get to an order, I suppose, is the orderly queueing for ‘Priority’ and ‘Non-Priority’ boarding.

Malta Air … more like the ‘Nights of Malta’ than the ‘Knights of Malta’, flies the flag for Ryanair (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2026)

Ludwig returns to Cambridge with his identical twin brother, but can I solve the mystery of Darwin and the missing link?

The Backs and King’s College are among many of the familiar locations that appear as scenes in the BBC crime drama series ‘Ludwig’ (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2026)

Patrick Comerford

I am delighted that the detective drama Ludwig has returned to the BBC with a second series that began last week (20 August 2026), having enthusiastically watched the first series in 2024.

In both series of Ludwig, David Mitchell stars as John Taylor, a reclusive crossword setter and puzzle maker who publishes his books under the pen name ‘Ludwig’, and his missing identical twin brother, James Taylor, a successful detective chief inspector in the Cambridge police force.

As an enthusiastic fan of the Guardian crossword each day, I was interested to see that the Guardian’s crossword editor Alan Connor was involved in designing the crosswords used in the opening titles of the series; indeed, he also created a series of Ludwig-themed puzzles in the Guardian.

Throughout each episode, I am watching for familiar locations in Cambridge, where much of the plots and storylines are set, including the Backs and the River Cam, King’s College, Queens’ College, Queens’ Lane, Saint John’s College, the Bridge of Sighs, the Old Schools and All Saints’ Passage.

Almost three million viewers watched Episode 1 in Series 2 on BBC 1 last Thursday night (20 August 2026), with Episode 2 going out at 9 pm tonight (27 August 2026). The first three episodes in Series 2 are now available on BBC iPlayer and the remaining three episodes are due to be released on BBC iPlayer on 10 September.

‘Stands the Church clock at ten to three?’ (Rupert Brooke) … the clock at Grantchester Church, which features in the crime series ‘Grantchester’ (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

In Series 1, John Taylor works his way into the Cambridgeshire Police posing as his missing identical twin brother James. As a fake cop, he uses his pedantic puzzle-solving skills to solve some complex murders in and around Cambridge that make normally sedate Cambridge look like a more dangerous place to live in than Albert Square in EastEnders.

Oxford has Inspector Morse, but Cambridge has had its share of television sleuths too, including the vicars in the ITV detective drama Grantchester (2014-2026), filmed mainly in the village of Grantchester and in central Cambridge, with locations that include King’s Parade, Saint John’s College and the River Cam.

In addition, the four episodes of Porterhouse Blue (1987), a Channel 4 comedy series adapted from Tom Sharpe’s 1974 novel, were filmed mainly in Sidney Sussex College, Cambridge, where I was a student over the years on a number of courses in association with the Institute of Orthodox Christian Studies (IOCS).

Sidney Sussex College provided the location for the Channel 4 comedy series ‘Porterhouse Blue’ (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2026)

BBC’s Ludwig is primarily set in and filmed in Cambridge. The actor David Mitchell went to Peterhouse in Cambridge in 1993 to study history, and as an undergraduate he joined the Cambridge Footlights dramatic club.

Ludwig inevitably includes numerous positioning shots – usually aerial – of Cambridge. The locations, backdrops and shots include King’s College, the River Cam, Saint John’s College and the Bridge of Sighs, Queens’ College, Queens’ Lane and the Mathematical Bridge, Silver Street, Silver StreetBridge and the Anchor, and the Millpond.

Episode 3 next week in the new series has many street scenes in central Cambridge, including Portugal Place, Market Hill, Trinity Lane and Garrett Hostel Bridge. But there are many fictional locations too, including the ‘Scholar's Fountain’ and Turing Lane. The theatre where last week’s murder scene is located is certainly not in Cambridge … it is, in fact, the Theatre Royal in Windsor.

The fictional Cambridge Police Authority station was filmed at Stockley Park Business Centre, a glass-fronted modern business park building in outer London. The grim offices of the fictional East Anglia Advertiser have been filmed at Pentland site off Squires Lane in Finchley. Its sad decline as a newspaper reminds me of the decline of the Lichfield Mercury a few years ago.

Locations beyond Cambridge include Moor Park Golf Club in Rickmansworth, Hertfordshire, North Mymms Park near Hatfield in Hertfordshire and locations in and around London including Ham Yard Hotel.

Doppelganger or ‘missing link’? … Charles Darwin’s plaque in the Great Gate at Christ’s College(Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2026)

Back in Cambridge last month, introducing a friend from Ireland to the Cambridge I have known for 20 years, the question of a doppelganger or curious lookalike surfaced in a humorous moment at the Great Gate or porters’ lodge at Christ’s College.

This gate and tower, which have been restored and regilded in recent years, date back to the 16th century when Christ’s College was founded by Lady Margaret Beaufort. As we stood there looking into First Court and the chapel, an American couple commented, half joking and wholly in earnest, on the likeness of the plaque behind me of Charles Darwin.

I have been a guest in Christ’s College many times, and I have preached in the chapel and was a visiting lecturer back in 2009. So I have always been aware of Darwin’s place in the history of the college. But there have also been rumours in family lore and legend that Charles Darwin was related to the Comberford family of Comberford Hall.

The nearest thing I can find to an actual link, though. is through a web of marriages rather than any direct genealogical connection. Charles Darwin’s father, Robert Waring Darwin, grew up as the step-brother of Sacheverell Chandos-Pole. Sacheverell’s son, the Revd William Chandos-Pole, held a kinship equivalent to a first cousin of Charles Darwin through marriage, and his son later had family ties that had a brief connection with Comberford Hall.

First Court and the Chapel in Christ’s College, Cambridge (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2026)

I have described this tenuous relationship as a true ‘missing link’, but any direct connection between Charles Darwin and Comberford Hall is extremely remote, and indirect, and I have only traced these through collateral marital relations in Staffordshire. Perhaps I need Ludwig’s puzzle-solving skills if I am ever going to find this ‘missing link’.

But there is another puzzle in Ludwig: is the plot about a missing identical twin brother, about a doppelganger, or about a personality disorder?

The BBC confirmed last month that it has commissioned a third series of Ludwig. We may have to wait until then to put other pieces in the puzzle back into place.

All Saints’ Passage … one of the familiar scenes in Cambridge that provide locations for ‘Ludwig’ (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

The Greeks have a word for it: 67, Εἰρήνη (Eirene), Peace

A statue of Eirene, the Greek goddess of Peace, with a laurel wreath and a cornucopia, at Vergina restaurant in Platanias, near Rethymnon in Crete (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Patrick Comerford

The Stony Stratford Playreaders this week have been reading Peace (Εἰρήνη), the anti-war play with timeless value by Aristophanes. He is one of the greatest comedians in classical literature, with a special sense of humour, and he wrote many comedies and satires.

In Greek mythology, Eirene (Εἰρήνη) was the goddess of peace, and she was a symbol of spring, wealth and order. She is depicted in art her statues and in art as a beautiful young woman carrying a cornucopia, sceptre and a torch or rhyton. She is usually said to be the daughter of Zeus and Themis and the sister of Dike and Eunomia.

The Greek word εἰρήνη (eirēnē) means peace, quiet and rest. In ancient Greek, it meant a time without war but it also speaks of more than just a lack of war: it describes wholeness, harmony, quietness, and a state of general well-being or flourishing.

It comes from a word that means to join together. Peace brings things back into a whole. It comes from verb εἴρω (eiro), to join or bind together that which has been separated, binding or joining together again what had been separated or divided and thus setting at one again.

Older theories also link the word εἴρω (eírō), ‘to speak, say’. We might compare it with the word ῥήτρα (rhḗtra), a verbal agreement or treaty.

A poster for a Shadow Puppet Theatre production of ‘Eirene’ by Aristophenes in Thessaloniki

The idea of the Common Peace (Κοινὴ Εἰρήνη, Koinē Eirēnē) was one of the most influential concepts of 4th century BCE Greek political thought, along with the idea of Panhellenism. The term described both the concept of a desirable, permanent peace between the Greek city-states (πόλεις, poleis) and a sort of peace treaty that fulfilled the three fundamental criteria of this concept: it had to include all the Greek city-states, it had to recognise the autonomy and equality of all city states without regard for their military power, and it had to be intended to remain in force permanently.

The advocates of the Common Peace saw it as a way to end the endemic warfare which engulfed the Greek poleis after the outbreak of the Peloponnesian War in 431 BCE. From the King’s Peace of 387-386 BCE down to the foundation of the League of Corinth in 338 BCE, the idea of the Common Peace influenced all peace treaties between Greek poleis. In the end, however, it turned out that only a strong hegemonic power could maintain a comprehensive peace for long.

The concept has been revived in modern times, and in the 20th century it was a foundation stone of international organisations such as the League of Nations and the United Nations.

‘Eirene’ by Aristophenes continues to appeal to adults and children alike in Greece

The Septuagint or Greek translation of the Hebrew Bible regularly uses εἰρήνη to translate the Hebrew shalom (שלום), a word that embraces completeness, prosperity, and relational harmony with God, neighbour, and creation. Priestly benedictions, such as Numbers 6: 26, anticipated a day when the Lord would ‘give you peace’. First-century Jews greeted one another with ‘peace’, and Jesus’ disciples continued the practice (see Luke 10: 5-6).

In the Greek New Testament, the word εἰρήνη (eirēnē) or peace is much like the Hebrew word shalom (שלום). It occurs over 90 times, and means inner calm, well-being, and right relationships with others. Well-known and well-loved examples include:

• πορεύου εἰς εἰρήνην, Go in Peace (Luke 7: 50; 8: 48);
• ἰρήνη τῷ οἴκῳ τούτῳ, Peace to this house (Luke 10: 5);
• Εἰρήνη ἀφίημι ὑμῖν, εἰρήνην τὴν ἐμὴν δίδωμι ὑμῖν, My peace I leave with you, my peace I give to you (John 14: 27);
• Εἰρήνη ὑμῖν, Peace be with you (Luke 24: 36; John 20: 19, 20-21, 26).

Every Pauline letter opens with the twin blessing ‘grace and peace’ (for example, see Romans 1: 7; Ephesians 1: 2) and most conclude with a similar wish (see Romans 15: 33). Peter, John and Jude follow the same pattern (see I Peter 1: 2; II John 1: 3; Jude 1: 2). These formulas are more than courteous salutations – they declare and confer the benefits of God’s favour and covenant well-being on those who receive the greeting.

Saint Irene (left), Saint Catherine and Saint Barbara … three women saints in a fresco in the Church of Panagia Dexia in Thessaloniki (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

In the Greek Orthodox tradition and in popular Greek piety today, there are three popular saints with the name Irene.

Saint Irene, Saint Catherine and Saint Barbara are three saints who are often found together in icons and frescoes in Greek churches. They form a traditional grouping, such as the Apostles Peter and Paul, as an icon of Church Unity, Saint Paul and Sant Barnabas or Saint Paul and Saint Titus as missionary companions, the three Cappadocian Fathers (Basil the Great, Gregory of Nyssa and Gregory of Nazianzus), and the Three Holy Hierarchs (Basil the Great, Gregory the Theologian and John Chrysostom).

Saint Irene is one of three saints and sisters – Irene, Agape and Chioni – who were born in Thessaloniki and who were martyred there for their faith in the year 304 CE. Their names mean Peace, Love and Purity, and their feast day is on 3 April.

The story of their martyrdom is the subject of Dulcitius, a 10th-century Latin drama by Hrotsvitha of Gandersheim, the first-known female playwright.

Irene, Agape and Chione were brought before Dulcitius, governor of Macedonia, on the charge of refusing to eat food that had been offered in sacrifice to the gods. When Agape and Chionia again refused to eat this food, they were burned alive.

Dulcitius found that Irene was keeping prohibited Christian books that she had taken with her when she fled to the mountains. Dulcitius ordered Irene to be stripped and exposed in a brothel. When no one mistreated her in the brothel, the governor gave Irene a second chance. When she refused this, Dulcitius sentenced her to death and her books found were burned with her.

Saint Irene (752-803), a Byzantine empress who was instrumental in restoring the use of icons in the Orthodox Church … a fresco in a church in Rethymnon (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

A second significant Saint Irene in the Orthodox Calendar is Saint Irene (752-803), a Byzantine empress who was instrumental in restoring the use of icons in the Orthodox Church. She was the wife of the Byzantine emperor Leo IV, and when her husband died in 780, she became guardian of their 10-year-old son, Constantine VI, and co-emperor with him. Later that year she crushed a plot by the iconoclasts or opponents of the use of icons to put Leo’s half-brother, Nicephorus, on the throne.

The use of icons had been prohibited since 730. When one of the Empress Irene’s supporters, Tarasius, was elected patriarch of Constantinople, he summoned the Council of Constantinople in 786 and then the Seventh Ecumenical Council in Nicaea in 787 and restored the reverence of images.

Constantine VI banished his mother from court, but she later had her son arrested and blinded. From 797, she reigned alone as emperor for five years until she was deposed in 802 and exiled to the island of Lesbos. She is remembered for her zeal in restoring icons and her feast day is celebrated on 9 August.

Saint Irene of Lesbos with Saint Raphael and Saint Nicholas … an icon in the Church of the Transfiguration in Piskopiano in Crete (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

There is a third Saint Irene in the Greek Orthodox tradition and popular piety: Saints Raphael, Nicholas, and Irene of Lesbos (Ραφαήλ, Νικόλαος και Ειρήνη) are venerated as saints and martyrs.

According to legend, they lived on the island of Lesbos in the 15th century and were killed by Turkish raiders on 9 April 1463. Raphael was the abbot of the monastery of Karyes, near the village of Thermi, Nicholas was a deacon in the monastery, and Irene was the 12-year-old daughter of the village mayor: she was brutally executed and burned inside a clay cask in front of her parents.

The site of their martyrdom was excavated in 1959 and the relics of the saints are kept in a monastery that was rebuilt on Karyes, about 12 km from Mytilene, the island capital. The three saints were canonised in 1970. The monastery has become a prominent centre of pilgrimage.

A quiet corner in the monastery of Agia Irini, near Rethymnon (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

One of my favourite places in Rethymnon for peace and quiet, with time to be calm and to pray is the Monastery of Aghia Irini, about 5 km south of Rethymnon in the mountains above the town, and one of the oldest monasteries in Crete. Various accounts say it was founded sometime between 961 and 1204, and it was certainly built before 1362, when it is escribed in a Venetian document.

The monastery was destroyed several times during the many revolutions in Crete against Ottoman rule. During the last Cretan revolution of 1897-1898, the Turks burnt the monastery, the ruined monastery was formally closed in 1900, and the ruins remained deserted throughout most of the 20th century.

Sister Akaterina, who once brought me on a tour of the monastery some years ago, told of how the Metropolitan of Rethymnon, the late Bishop Theodoros Tzedakis, had a vision in 1989 for its restoration and invited a group of nuns to form a new community at Aghia Irini.

The nuns moved into the buildings and restoration work began in 1990. At the time, Aghia Irini was a jumble of dilapidated buildings. Today, it must be one of the most beautiful monasteries in Crete, and the restoration work has received architectural and cultural awards. The church was officially opened in 2003, and was consecrated in 2011 by Patriarch Theodoros of Alexandria. The buildings include an older three-aisled church of Saint Irene, Saint Catherine and Saint Euphemia.

An icon of Aghia Irini (Αγία Ειρήνη) or Saint Irene by Alexandra Kaouki … a present from Rethymnon (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

When I was in Rethymnon last year for a five-day ‘mini-retreat’ in Crete during Holy Week and Easter, my friend Alexandra Kaouki (Αλεξανδρα Καουκι), one of the foremost icon writers in Rethymnon today, gave me a gift of one of her early icons, depicting Aghia Irini (Αγία Ειρήνη) or Saint Irene, completed in 2012.

Saint Irene seemed such a special choice for me that weekend. Alexandra explained how she thought it was appropriate for me because of my campaigning past, as the saint’s name means ‘Peace’, and because I had written appreciatively in the past about Aghia Irini convent in the hills above Rethymnon.

A fresco depicting Saint Irene or Aghia Irini by Alexandra Kaouki in a church in Rethymnon

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’

63, Ποδόσφαιρο, ‘Football’

64, καφές (coffee), Φραπές (frappé)

65, Odyssey (η Οδύσσεια) and Odysseus (Ὀδυσσεύς)

66, Cosmopolitan, Κοσμοπολίτης

67, Εἰρήνη (Eirene), Peace

Series to be continued

‘Eirene’ by Aristophenes continues to appeal to adults and children alike in Greece