Daily prayer in Lent 2026: 6, Monday 23 February 2026

‘He will separate people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats’ (Matthew 25: 32) … sheep and goats grazing together in a field in Platanias near Rethymnon in Crete (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Patrick Comerford

Lent began last week on Ash Wednesday, and yesterday was the First Sunday in Lent (Lent I, 22 February 2026). The calendar of the Church of England in Common Worship today remembers Saint Polycarp (ca 155), Bishop of Smyrna, Martyr.

Before this day begins, I am taking some quiet time in Kuching this morning to give thanks, to reflect, to pray and to read in these ways:

1, today’s Gospel reading;

2, a short reflection;

3, a prayer from the USPG prayer diary;

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

‘I was thirsty and ye gave me drink’ (Matthew 25: 35) … a window in Saint Paul’s Church, Marylebone (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Matthew 25: 31-46 (NRSVA):

[Jesus said:] 31 ‘When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit on the throne of his glory. 32 All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats, 33 and he will put the sheep at his right hand and the goats at the left. 34 Then the king will say to those at his right hand, “Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; 35 for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, 36 I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.” 37 Then the righteous will answer him, “Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? 38 And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? 39 And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?” 40 And the king will answer them, “Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.” 41 Then he will say to those at his left hand, “You that are accursed, depart from me into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels; 42 for I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, 43 I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not give me clothing, sick and in prison and you did not visit me.” 44 Then they also will answer, “Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not take care of you?” 45 Then he will answer them, “Truly I tell you, just as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.” 46 And these will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life.’

A scene of the Last Judgment in a fresco in the Orthodox Monastery of Saint John the Baptist in Tolleshunt Knights, Essex (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Today’s Reflections:

The Gospel reading at the Eucharist today (Matthew 25: 31-46) is normally associated with Advent and the Feast of Christ the King. But Lent, like Advent, is a time of waiting for Christ, anticipating Christ revealing himself among us as the King.

Many of our readings in Lent remind us of what the coming of Christ into the world means, what the Kingdom of God is like, how we should prepare for the coming of Christ and the coming of the Kingdom of God.

Today’s Gospel reading tells of Christ coming in glory as the Son of Man (verse 31), as the king (verses 34 and 40), and as Lord (verses 37 and 44).

Lent is a time for reflection, penitence and making amends. Today’s is a stark challenge that asks us to think about what the coming of Christ, the second coming, will be like, and what Christ has to say to us about the way we live and the world we live in today.

The division of people into sheep and goats is a good image. We all love to divide people into the insiders and the outsiders, us and them, friend and foe, Manchester United fans and ABU fans. We do it all the time, and sheep and goats are a good short-hand term for what we do.

Sheep and goats behave differently, but in the Palestine of Christ’s time they were fed together. Even to this day, in Greece and other parts of the East Mediterranean, sheep and goats are often difficult to tell apart until they are separated. And when it came to insiders and outsiders, goats were insiders and sheep were outsiders.

Goats are lively animals and very curious. They are happy living either in herds with other goats or on their own. Sheep are more docile, easily led, and always stay in groups.

Goats are gentle browsers, sheep are destructive grazers.

Goats nibble here and there, sampling and chewing on a lot of things without actually eating them. Sheep eat grass and plants all the way down to the ground. They are greedier than goats, and are more likely to overeat if they find more food than they need.

Goats are climbers: they almost never slip or fall; sheep, on the other hand, are much less sure-footed and easily fall and get stuck upside down.

The parable of the lost sheep just would not have had the same resonance if it were told as the parable of the lost goat.

Sheep can and will stay out all night, and are more resilient in bad weather. That is why the shepherds on the first Christmas night were out on the hills tending their sheep. But goats need warmth at night, so might even have been in the stable alongside the ox and the ass.

So: sheep are outsiders, goats are insiders. And what happens to the insiders and the outsiders in this parable would be a shocking end to the story for those who heard it for the first time in the East Mediterranean.

This story has inspired great works of art, from doom walls in English mediaeval churches, to popular images in Greek and Romanian churches to this day; from the sixth century mosaics in Ravenna Fra Angelico in Florence and Michelangelo in the Sistine Chapel.

Perhaps because of the Ravenna mosaics, Fra Angelico, Michelangelo, and other artists, we often see this story as one about individual judgment and individual condemnation, rather than the judgment of the nations spoken of in this reading.

The story opens with Christ coming again in glory, sitting on his throne of glory (verse 31), and the nations gathered before him (verse 32). We see not isolated individuals are gathered before the throne of Christ, but the nations – all the nations – assembled and being asked these searching questions.

These questions challenge us to ask whether we have taken on board the values of the beatitudes in the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5: 3-11; Luke 6: 20-31), and whether we truly accept the values Christ proclaimed at the start of his ministry in the synagogue in Nazareth (Luke 4: 16-19).

The questions he asks are put not just to us as individuals and as Christians. They are put to the nations, to all of the nations (πάντα τὰ ἔθνη, pánta to ethne), each and every one of them.

And that is where Christ comes into the world, at the second coming, with the Kingdom of God. At his birth, the old man in the Temple, Simeon, welcomes him as ‘a light for revelation to the nations’ (φῶς εἰς ἀποκάλυψιν ἐθνῶν, phos eis apokálypsin ethnon) (Luke 2: 32).

Which nations in this war-torn world with greedy, despotic rulers dominating the global agenda, would like to be judged by how enlightened they are; to be compared with the Kingdom of God when it comes to how they treat and look after those the enthroned Christ identifies with: those who are hungry; those who are thirsty; those who are strangers and find no welcome; those who are naked, bare of anything to call their own, or whose naked bodies are exploited for profit and pleasure; those who are sick and left waiting on hospital trolleys or on endless lists for health care they cannot access; those silenced or imprisoned because they speak out, or because they are from the wrong political or ethnic group, or because they do not have the right papers when they arrive as refugees or asylum seekers?

When did we ever see Christ in pain on a hospital trolley, being mistreated at passport control kiosks in the airport arrivals area, trying to cross borders, or trying to cross the seas on makeshift rafts or on overcrowded boats?

But – as long it was done in the name of our nation – we did it to Christ himself.

In his second coming, Christ tells us the kind of conduct, of morality, towards others that is expected of us as Christians. But he also tells us of the consequences of not caring for others.

Our Gospel reading makes a direct connection with the Sermon on the Mount and the Beatitudes. This Gospel reading challenges us in a way that is uncomfortable, but with things that must stay on our agenda as Christians and on the agenda of the Church and the agendas of the nations.

The genius of great power is revealed in those who have it and can use it but only do so sparingly. Christ’s choice is not to gratify those who want a worldly king, whether he is benign or barmy. Instead, he displays supreme majesty in his priorities for those who are counted out when it comes to other kingdoms.

Christ is not coming again as a king who is haughty and aloof, daft and barmy, or despotic and tyrannical. Instead he shows a model of kingship that emphasises what true majesty and graciousness should be – giving priority in the kingdom to the hungry, the thirsty, the stranger, the naked, the sick, and the prisoner (verses 35-36).

As we continue through Lent, we are preparing to recall Christ’s Passion, Death and Resurrection, but are also looking forward to seeing him in glory. Let us be prepared to see him and welcome in the hungry, the thirsty, the unwelcome stranger, those who are naked and vulnerable, those with no access to health care, those who are prisoners, those without the right papers, those who have no visitors and those who are lonely and marginalised.

‘He will put the sheep at his right hand and the goats at the left’ (Matthew 25: 33) … sheep and goats in a sculpture in a garden in Knightstown on Valentia Island, Co Kerry (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Today’s Prayers (Monday 23 February 2026):

The theme this week (22-28 February 2026) in ‘Pray With the World Church,’ the Prayer Diary of the Anglican mission agency USPG (United Society Partners in the Gospel), is: ‘Behold, I make all things new!’ (pp 30-31). This theme was introduced yesterday with Reflections by the Right Revd Jorge Pina Cabral Jorge, Diocesan Bishop of the Lusitanian Church (Portugal).

The USPG Prayer Diary today (Monday 23 March 2026) invites us to pray:

God of welcome, bless the Anglican Churches in Portugal and Spain in their ministry with migrants. May every stranger be met with dignity, hospitality, and hope.

The Collect:

Almighty God,
who gave to your servant Polycarp
boldness to confess the name of our Saviour Jesus Christ
before the rulers of this world
and courage to die for his faith:
grant that we also may be ready
to give an answer for the faith that is in us
and to suffer gladly for the sake of our Lord Jesus Christ,
who is alive and reigns with you,
in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and for ever.

The Post-Communion Prayer:

Eternal God,
who gave us this holy meal
in which we have celebrated the glory of the cross
and the victory of your martyr Polycarp:
by our communion with Christ
in his saving death and resurrection,
give us with all your saints the courage to conquer evil
and so to share the fruit of the tree of life;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Yesterday’s Reflections

Continued Tomorrow

The sheep and the goats being separated … this morning’s parable depicted in a mosaic in the Basilica of Sant’Apollinare Nuovo in Ravenna (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

George Seferis and ‘Epiphany, 1937’: the poem that Mikis Theodorakis made a song of resistance to the colonels

Giorgos Seferis is a major figure in Greek literature and in 1963 became the first Greek Nobel laureate for literature

Patrick Comerford

TS Eliot’s poem ‘The Journey of the Magi’, which I was discussing yesterday, was written in 1927 after he joined the Church of England and is one of the five poems in his Ariel Poems published in 1930. The poem is truly a sermon in poem, and is one of the great works of English poetry in the 20th century.

Another Epiphany poem that comes to mind at this time of year is ‘Epiphany, 1937’, is a poem written in 1937 by Giorgos Seferis, a major figure in Greek literature who became the first Greek Nobel laureate for literature in 1963.

Seferis’s poem ‘Epiphany, 1937’ has had a lasting influence on Greek culture and identity. It was part of Epiphany, a collection that inspired the Greek composer Mikis Theodorakis 30 years later to write a cantata, with songs that are still popular in Greece. When the poem was set to music as an cantata or choral work by Theodorakis, ‘I Kept Hold of My Life’, it became an expression of resistance to the colonels’ junta from 1967 to 1974.

Seferis’s poem ‘Epiphany, 1937’ and its setting by Theodorakis, continue to be major important and influential cultural works in Greece, and Theodorakis has ensured that the lyrics are widely-known and are regularly performed, in his choral adaptation or setting Κράτησα τη ζωή μου (Kratêsa tê zôê mou, ‘I Kept Hold of My Life’. One of the most moving performances brings together the voice of Maria Farantouri and the jazz instrumentation of Charles Lloyd.



A diplomatic assignment in London for George Seferis influenced the direction of his poetic creativity and marked the beginning of a lifelong friendship between Eliot and Seferis, who translated the works of both Eliot and Ezra Pound into Greek.

George Seferis (1900-1971) was born Giorgos Seferiadis (Γεώργιος Σεφεριάδης) in Smyrna (now Izmir) in Asia Minor in 1900. He went to school in Smyrna and then to the Gymnasium in Athens. When his family moved to Paris in 1918, he studied law at the University of Paris and became interested in literature. He returned to Athens in 1925 and joined the Foreign Ministry the following year. He had a long and successful diplomatic career, that began with postings in England (1931-1934), where he was introduced to Eliot and Pound, and Albania (1936-1938), where he wrote ‘Epiphany, 1937.’

Seferis moved to Crete with the Free Greek Government during World War II, and then into exile in Egypt, South Africa and Italy. Meanwhile, in 1941 he married Marika Zannou, the mother of two young daughters from her previous marriage to Andreas Londos.

He returned to liberated Athens in 1944. He continued to work in the Foreign Ministry, followed by diplomatic postings in Ankara (1948-1950), London (1951-1953) and Lebanon, Syria, Jordan, and Iraq (1953-1956). He was back in London again as the Greek Ambassador from 1957 to 1961, his last post before he retired to Athens.

After the colonels’ coup in 1967, he went into voluntary seclusion and many of his poems were banned, including the musical versions written and arranged by the composer Mikis Theodorakis.

His poem ‘Denial’ (Άρνηση), first published in 1931 in his collection Turning Point (Στροφή, Strophe), became an anthem of resistance to the colonels. He died on 20 September 1971 and ‘Denial’ (Άρνηση) was sung by the crowds lining the streets of Athens at his funeral. He had become a popular hero for his resistance to the regime. His widow Marika cut off her hair and flung it into his grave.

Seferis’s exclusive use of demotic, or common, Greek as his language of choice earned him a privileged place among his generation of Greek poets, while his wide travels provide the backdrop and colour for much of Seferis’s writing.

As well as Strophe (1931), his early poetry includes E Sterna (The Cistern, 1932), and Mythistorema (1935). Later collections include Tetradio Gymnasmaton (Book of Exercises, 1940), Emerologio Katastromatos (Logbook I, 1940), Emerologio Katastromatos B (Logbook II, 1944), Kihle (Thrush, 1947), Emerologio Katastromatos Γ (Logbook III, 1955) and Tria Krypha Poiemata (Three Secret Poems, 1966).

Seferis first became acquainted with Eliot in London in Christmas 1931, when he found a copy of the poem ‘Marina’ in a bookshop on Oxford Street and was struck by its Mediterranean feeling. He published his translation of Eliot’s poetry in 1936 in The Waste Land and Other Poems, prefaced by his first essay in print, ‘Introduction to TS Eliot’, itself a major event in modern Greek literature. Seferis also translated WB Yeats, DH Lawrence, Ezra Pound and WH Auden.

In 1963, Seferis became the first Greek to receive the Nobel Prize for Literature. He received several honorary doctorates from Cambridge (1960), Oxford (1964), the Aristotle University of Thessaloniki (1964), and Princeton (1965).

The icon of the Baptism of Christ in the new iconostasis in the Greek Orthodox Church in Stony Stratford … the Baptism of Christ is the main Epiphany theme in the Orthodox Church (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2024)

I believe his poem ‘Epiphany, 1937’ shows strong influence from Eliot’s Epiphany poem ‘The Journey of the Magi’. In the Orthodox Church, the Baptism of Christ is principal theme in celebrating the Feast of the Epiphany. While Eliot’s poem draws on the Epiphany theme of the Visit of Magi, these two poems share similar imagery, although Seferis is writing in a secular, non-religious way.

The poem starts by addressing a second-person singular, as a shared reminiscence of a locus amoenus, with the sea flowering and the mountains in the moon’s waning (verses1-5).

As the reader proceeds from this introductory section to the main part of the poem, summer’s eutopia gradually yields to an icier landscape, culminating with the terse third-person closure: ‘The snow and the water frozen in the hoofmarks of the horses.’

The whole poem can be read as the personal, almost internal, voice of a lone walker, traveller, or hiker who at times encounters other, equally lonely, walking figures during his journey. The speaker is travelling among yellow trees, climbing the mountains, his road having no end, having no relief, at times meeting a woman bent as she walks giving her child the breast, or a man who walks blindly across the snows of silence.

A second-person singular shows up at key positions of this main section, following or preceding the recurring phrase ‘I’ve kept a rein on my life.’ Who is this second-person singular? The identity seems to fluctuate along the flow of the poem, at times appearing as the distant nostalgic memory of the beloved, at other times as an alternative to the speaker’s own persona, now addressing himself in the second person

One eventually realises that even if the whole poem is nothing but the utterance of a first-person speaker in love, this is love experienced in sheer loneliness.

With the date 1937, Seferis offers a landmark in his own life. In that year, he was the Greek consul in Korçë (Κορυτσά, Korytsa) in south-east Albania, near the border with Greece. It had once been one of the wealthiest communities in northern Epirus, Greek had remained the language of business and trade, and it was briefly held by Greece during the opening years of World War I.

During the summer before his posting to Korçë, Seferis had fallen deeply in love with Marika Zannou, the wife of Andreas Londos, a former naval officer, and the mother of two girls. Their affair began during mutual holidays on the island of Aegina, but was cut short when Seferis returned to Athens in September 1936 and found he had been appointed to Albania. He endured the winter of 1936-1937 in isolation, writing several times a week to his beloved Maro, then still unhappily attached to Andreas Londos back in Greece.

Perhaps ‘Epiphany, 1937’ marks an epiphanic landmark in the writer’s his own poetic itinerary. The word epiphany (ἐπιφάνεια, epiphania) has very specific reference points too. Epiphanies are moments of revelation. But linking this noun with the year in the title ‘Epiphany, 1937’ also seems to refer to the Feast of the Epiphany on 6 January, when the Greek Orthodox Church celebrates the baptism of Jesus by Saint John in the Jordan.

The continuing presence of water in Epiphany evokes this feast, where immersion in water is combined with bestowing identity on the person being baptised. January also provides the setting for the ice-covered landscape of the main part of the poem.

In classical Greek literature, epiphanies are associated with acquiring an authoritative poetic identity. In Hesiod’s Theogony, for example, the anonymous shepherd pasturing his flock on Mount Helicon appears in his own poem with the name Hesiod only at the moment when the Muses’ epiphany to him is being narrated.



In January 1968, 31 years after Seferis completed ‘Epiphany, 1937’, the composer Mikis Theodorakis conceived of it as a choral piece, Επιφάνια-Αβέρωφ (Epiphania-Averof), naming the cantata after the prison in central in Athens. He had been detained there since August 1967, after the colonels right-wing junta had seized power on 21 April 1967, and was denied the Christmas amnesty extended to many other political prisoners in December 1967.

Gail Holst’s book, Theodorakis: Myth and Politics in Modern Greek Music (Amsterdam, 1980), shows that for Theodorakis setting the entire ‘Epiphany, 1937’ to music was a tour de force, his own epiphanic moment in the junta’s jail cells.

Theodorakis worked on the poem as a cantata to be performed with the help of his fellow prisoners. Each evening, while other prisoners listened to the radio in a communal hall from 7:30 to 8:30, Theodorakis used the hour to train his choir of 10 prisoners.

The poem’s first-person-singular refrain Κράτησα τη ζωή μου (Kratêsa tê zôê mou) is translated into English by Keeley and Sherrard as ‘I’ve kept a rein on my life’. It could also be translated as ‘I’ve kept a hold on my life’. In this refrain, Theodorakis heard a multiplicity of voices, the universality of their utterance further enhanced by the composer’s preference for a mixed chorus of both men and women.

This recurring phrase throughout the main part of the poem struck Theodorakis’s sensitivity and curiosity. Seferis’ refrain creates a sense of monotony and repetition and at the same time the sense of one carrying something heavy.

Epiphany, 1937, by George Seferis, translated by Edmund Keeley and Philip Sherrard:

The flowering sea and the mountains in the moon’s waning
the great stone close to the Barbary figs and the asphodels
the jar that refused to go dry at the end of day
and the closed bed by the cypress trees and your hair
golden; the stars of the Swan and that other star, Aldebaran.

I’ve kept a rein on my life, kept a rein on my life, travelling
among yellow trees in driving rain
on silent slopes loaded with beech leaves,
no fire on their peaks; it’s getting dark.

I’ve kept a rein on my life; on your left hand a line
a scar at your knee, perhaps they exist
on the sand of the past summer perhaps
they remain there where the north wind blew as I hear
an alien voice around the frozen lake.
The faces I see do not ask questions nor does the woman
bent as she walks giving her child the breast.

I climb the mountains; dark ravines; the snow-covered
plain, into the distance stretches the snow-covered plain, they ask nothing
neither time shut up in dumb chapels nor
hands outstretched to beg, nor the roads.

I’ve kept a rein on my life whispering in a boundless silence
I no longer know how to speak nor how to think; whispers
like the breathing of the cypress tree that night
like the human voice of the night sea on pebbles
like the memory of your voice saying ‘happiness’.

I close my eyes looking for the secret meeting-place of the waters
under the ice the sea’s smile, the closed wells
groping with my veins for those veins that escape me
there where the water-lilies end and that man
who walks blindly across the snows of silence.

I’ve kept a rein on my life, with him, looking for the water that touches you
heavy drops on green leaves, on your face
in the empty garden, drops in the motionless reservoir
striking a swan dead in its white wings
living trees and your eyes riveted.

This road has no end, has no relief, however hard you try
to recall your childhood years, those who left, those
lost in sleep, in the graves of the sea,
however much you ask bodies you’ve loved to stoop
under the harsh branches of the plane trees there
where a ray of the sun, naked, stood still
and a dog leapt and your heart shuddered,
the road has no relief;
I’ve kept a rein on my life.

The snow
and the water frozen in the hoofmarks of the horses.



Κρατησα Τη Ζωη Μου, Γιωργοσ Σεφερησ: Επιφανια

Τ' ανθισμένο πέλαγο και τα βουνά στη χάση του φεγγαριού
η μεγάλη πέτρα κοντά στις αραποσυκιές και τ' ασφοδίλια
το σταμνί πού δεν ήθελε να στερέψει στο τέλος της μέρας
και το κλειστό κρεββάτι κοντά στα κυπαρίσσια και τα μαλλιά σου
χρυσά· τ' άστρα του Κύκνου κι εκείνο τ' άστρο ο Αλδεβαράν.

Κράτησα τη ζωή μου,
κράτησα τη ζωή μου ταξιδεύοντας
ανάμεσα σε κίτρινα δέντρα κατά το πλάγιασμα της βροχής
σε σιωπηλές πλαγιές φορτωμένες με τα φύλλα της οξυάς,
καμμιά φωτιά στην κορυφή τους· βραδυάζει.

Κράτησα τη ζωή μου· στ' αριστερό σου χέρι μια γραμμή
μια χαρακιά στο γόνατό σου, τάχα να υπάρχουν
στην άμμο τού περασμένου καλοκαιριού τάχα
να μένουν εκεί πού φύσηξε ό βοριάς καθώς ακούω
γύρω στην παγωμένη λίμνη την ξένη φωνή.

Τα πρόσωπα πού βλέπω δε ρωτούν, μήτε η γυναίκα
περπατώντας σκυφτή, βυζαίνοντας το παιδί της.

Ανεβαίνω τα βουνά· μελανιασμένες λαγκαδιές· o χιονισμένος
κάμπος, ώς πέρα ο χιονισμένος κάμπος, τίποτε δε ρωτούν,
μήτε o καιρός κλειστός σε βουβά ερμοκκλήσια, μήτε
τα χέρια που απλώνονται για να γυρέψουν, κι οι δρόμοι.

Κράτησα τη ζωή μου ψιθυριστά μέσα στην απέραντη σιωπή,
δεν ξέρω πια να μιλήσω, μήτε να συλλογιστώ· ψίθυροι
σαν την ανάσα του κυπαρισσιού τη νύχτα εκείνη
σαν την ανθρώπινη φωνή της νυχτερινής θάλασσας στα χαλίκια
σαν την ανάμνηση της φωνής σου λέγοντας «ευτυχία».

Κλείνω τα μάτια γυρεύοντας το μυστικό συναπάντημα των νερών
κάτω απ τον πάγο το χαμογέλιο τής θάλασσας τα κλειστά πηγάδια
ψηλαφώντας με τις δικές μου φλέβες τις φλέβες εκείνες πού μου ξεφεύγουν
εκεί πού τελειώνουν τα νερολούλουδα κι αυτός ό άνθρωπος
πού βηματίζει τυφλός πάνω στο χιόνι τής σιωπής.

Κρατησα τη Ζωη Μου -Β

Κράτησα τη ζωή μου, μαζί του, γυρεύοντας το νερό πού σ' αγγίζει
στάλες βαρειές πάνω στα πράσινα φύλλα, στο πρόσωπό σου,
μέσα στον άδειο κήπο, στάλες στην ακίνητη δεξαμενή,
βρίσκοντας έναν κύκνο νεκρό μέσα στα κάτασπρα φτερά του,
δέντρα ζωντανά και τα μάτια σου προσηλωμένα.

Ο δρόμος αυτός δεν τελειώνει, δεν έχει αλλαγή, όσο γυρεύεις
να θυμηθείς τα παιδικά σου χρόνια, εκείνους πού έφυγαν, εκείνους
πού χάθηκαν μέσα στον ύπνο· τους πελαγίσιους τάφους,
όσο ζητάς τα σώματα πού αγάπησες να σκύψουν
κάτω από τα σκληρά κλωνάρια τών πλατάνων εκεί
πού στάθηκε μια αχτίδα τού ήλιου γυμνωμένη
και σκίρτησε ένας σκύλος και φτεροκόπησε ή καρδιά σου,
ο δρόμος δεν έχει αλλαγή·

Κράτησα τη ζωή μου.

Το χιόνι και το νερό παγωμένο στα πατήματα των αλόγων.



• Copyright acknowledgement: George Seferis, ‘Epiphany, 1937’ from Edmund Keeley and Philip Sherrard (trans and edit), George Seferis, Collected Poems (Princeton: Princeton University Press, revised ed, 1995).

The Greeks have a word for it: 44, catastrophe, καταστροφή

The monument on Mikrasiaton Square in Rethymnon recalls the Asia Minor Catastrophe in 1914-1923 (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2024)

Patrick Comerford

Is the election later this week going to be a meltdown and a catastrophe for the Conservative Party?

Is the performance of Nigel Farage and his party in the election later this week going to be a catastrophe for tolerance, diversity and human rights?

Does the potential overwhelming majority for the Labour Party threaten a future or potential catastrophe for democracy?

I have no doubt that the threat of Donald Trump’s return to office leads me to fear the catastrophic consequences for the US – and for the world.

The American comedian, actor, singer, and pianist Jimmy Durante, who could do to words what should never happen to a thesaurus, would say ‘catastroscope’ for catastrophe ‘cazzmaclismic’ for cataclysmic, and ‘exubilant’ for exuberant.

The words catastrophe and catastrophic come from the Greek words κατά (kata), ‘down’ or ‘against’, and στροφή (strophe), turning, which gives us the Greek: καταστροφή (katastrophḗ) and καταστρέφω (katastréphō), ‘I overturn’.

We can think of the use of kata- as a prefix when he speak of catacombs; I described the use of the use of -strophe as a suffix in this series recently (20 June) when I discussed the word apostrophe, ἀποστροφή, and illustrated it with the poem Στροφή (Strophe, Turning Point), the title poem in a collection by the Greek poet George Seferis.

The Greek noun καταστροφή may mean overturning, subjugation, reduction, end, close, conclusion, ruin or undoing, and the verb καταστρέφειν (katastrephein) means to overturn, to trample on, or to come to an end.

The word travelled from its Greek source katastrophe through the Latin catastrophe into other European languages. The first known use of catastrophe in English was in 1540 to refer to the conclusion or final event of the dramatic, disastrous action in a tragedy. Catastrophe then described a reversal of what is expected, especially the turning point in a drama or the winding up of the plot.

In time, catastrophe came to be used more generally of any unhappy conclusion, sudden disaster or ruinous end. By the mid-18th century, the word was being used to denote truly devastating events, such as earthquakes and volcanic eruptions.

Today, the word catastrophe may refer to very tragic events as well as more minor ones. When we use the word, we may be referring to a general or specific event. But we use it too for things that are only figuratively catastrophic – burnt dinners, lost luggage, really bad films, and so on. Even a missed flight is not an actual catastrophe, as I have to realise in my own small world.

Catastrophe (1982) is a short play by Samuel Beckett; Catastrophe was a five-part science series presented by Tony Robinson on Channel 4 in 2008; and Catastrophe was also a 2015 television sitcom starring Sharon Horgan and Rob Delaney.

Elections and political opinions apart, some of the real catastrophes we all face include climatic catastrophe, or the forced transition of our climate system at a rapid that we cannot cope with; ecological catastrophe, or a disaster in our the natural environment due to human activity; and an impending climatic catastrophe, caused by runaway climate change resulting from a rise in the average temperature of the Earth’s climate system.

The Holocaust is known in Hebrew as HaShoah, which translates as ‘The Catastrophe’.

The word catastrophe has been used in the past few decades too to refer to the Chernobyl Catastrophe in 1986 and to translate the Nakba in Arabic.

Remembering the Asia Minor Catastrophe in Mikrasiaton Square in Rethymnon (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2024)

When I was back in Rethymnon two months ago, I was reminded of how long-lasting the traumatic effects of catastrophe really are for the lives of families and communities. The Asia Minor Catastrophe is the Greek name for the 1923 Greek defeat in war between Greece and Turkey in 1919-1922 and the ‘population exchange’ between Greece and Turkey after that defeat.

It seems that in every corner of Rethymnon I stumble across reminders of the Asia Minor Catastrophe a century ago. They are found in street names and placenames, from Smyrni Street beneath the slopes of the Fortezza, and Mikrasiaton Square in the heart of the old town, to Tsesmes, the suburban village on the eastern fringes of Rethymnon, where I have also stayed in recent years.

Mikrasiaton Square (Πλατεία Μικρασιατών) has been transformed into the biggest square in the heart of the Old Town. Its name recalls the refugees from Asia Minor, who were known as Μικρασιάτες or Mikrasiates, people from Minor Asia. The Greek genocide (Γενοκτονία των Ελλήνων, Genoktonia ton Ellinon) was the systematic killing of the Greek Christian population of Anatolia or Asia Minor, during World War I and its aftermath (1914-1922).

The wholescale massacre of people and communities was carried out systematically on the basis of religion and ethnicity. It was instigated by the Ottoman government led by the Three Pashas and intensified and systematised by Mustafa Kemal Atatürk.

The genocide included massacres, forced deportations, death marches, expulsions, summary executions, and the destruction of Greek cultural, historical, and religious monuments. Up to a million Greek people living in the Ottoman Empire and its successor the Turkish Republic were murdered and died in that period.

By late 1922, most Greeks in Asia Minor had either fled or were murdered. The majority of survivors fled as refugees to Greece, adding over a quarter to the population of Greece at the time.

The refugees who arrived in Rethymnon first found shelter in the area now known as Mikrasiaton Square. Many found shelter in the Church of Saint Francis (Agios Franciskos), which had been used as an imaret or poorhouse during the Turkish era; others found homes in outlying villages such as Tsesmes, which takes its name from Cesme, north-west of Smirni (Izmir).

The refugees from Asia Minor integrated quickly into to the local population, bringing with them their arts, crafts and creativity, and actively contributing to the revitalisation of the local economy.

Today, Mikrasiaton Square is an attractive plaza, filled with strolling families, playing children and tourists taking selfies in front of the minaret and domes of the Neratnzes Mosque. There are bikers and skaters too, park benches and attractive restaurants. It has also been a popular venue for open air concerts and live music.

Some abandoned buildings might have blighted this square in the past and become typical recipients of graffiti and painted scrawls. But instead, an imaginative initiative has attracted the talents of street artists, adding to the attractions of the square.

The buildings around Mikrasiaton Square include some of the town’s most important buildings from the Venetian and Ottoman periods, such as the House of Culture, the Nerantzes Mosque, the former Venetian Church of Agios Franciskos (Saint Francis), now housing temporary exhibitions of the Archaeological Museum, and the Historical and Folklore Museum of Rethymnon.

The new monument on the east side of Mikrasiaton Square recalls the Asia Minor catastrophe and is an initiative of the descendants of those refugees who arrived in Rethymnon a century ago. It is five meters long and four meters in high, and depicts the horrors of burning homes, death marches, murders and grieving mothers.

The names of the towns in Asia Minor that had sizeable Greek majorities until a century ago are inscribed on the monument, beginning with Symrni, and including Tsesmes, Ephesus, Pergamon, Miletus, Iconium (Konya), and Sardis … many of them Greek-speaking cities long before Saint John wrote from Patmos to the Seven Churches in the Book of Revelation.

Smyrni Street beneath the slopes of the Fortezza in Rethymnon (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Before the word genocide came into legal use, the destruction of the Greeks of Asia Minor was known by Greeks as ‘the Massacre’ (η Σφαγή), ‘the Great Catastrophe’ (η Μεγάλη Καταστροφή), or ‘the Great Tragedy’ (η Μεγάλη Τραγωδία).

Ataturk provided a ‘model’ for genocide for the Nazis. Hitler once declared that he regarded himself as a student of Ataturk, and described him as his ‘star in the darkness.’ Ataturk and his new Turkey of 1923 constituted the archetype of the ‘perfect Führer’ and of ‘good national practices’ for Nazism. Nazi propaganda emphasised the ‘Turkish model’ and continuously praised the ‘benefits’ of ethnic cleansing and genocide.

Genocide was declared an international crime in international law in 1948. Two years ago (2022), Greece marked the 100th anniversary of the ‘Catastrophe of Smyrna’ (Izmir), when Greeks were forced to flee the city when Turkish forces set fire to it. The great fire of Smyrna began on 13 September 1922, and lasted nine full days and nights until 22 September 1922.

The monument on Mikrasiaton Square recalls the genocide of the Greeks during the Asia Minor Catastrophe (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2024)

A more contemporary example of a catastrophe in Greece is the recent national debt crisis and near bankruptcy of Greece could be characterised as a catastrophe. In response of this catastrophe, two poles were formed. Grassroots efforts led to community kitchens, healthcare clinics, and popular assemblies. On the other hand, the European troika – the European Commission, the European Central Bank and the International Monetary Fund – used this opportunity to impose austerity measures. These responses in the summer of 2015 produced a clash between two worldviews in the aftermath of a catastrophe.

Thinking about catastrophes dialectically and comparatively can help us take an ethical stance and decide on a political course of action in the future. Global warming, increasing social inequality, and the rise of the far right across Europe, means we are likely to face many more catastrophes in the years ahead.

Previous word: 43, apostrophe, ἀποστροφή.

Next word: 45, democracy, δημοκρατία

A quiet moment in Mikrasiaton Square in Rethymnon seems like a world away from political and economic catastrophes (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2024)

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

Daily prayer in Lent with early English saints: 10, 23 February 2024, Saint Cedd of Lastingham

Saint Cedd of Lastingham joined Saint Aidan’s monastery in Lindisfarne with his brother, Saint Chad of Lichfield

Patrick Comerford

The Season of Lent began last week with Ash Wednesday (14 February 2024), and we began this week with the First Sunday in Lent (Lent I, 18 February 2024). Today, the Calendar of the Church of England in Common Worship remembers the life and work of Saint Polycarp (ca 155), Bishop of Smyrna, Martyr.

Throughout Lent this year, I am taking time each morning to reflect on the lives of early, pre-Reformation English saints commemorated by the Church of England in the Calendar of Common Worship.

Before today begins, I am taking some quiet time this morning for reflection, prayer and reading in these ways:

1, A reflection on an early, pre-Reformation English saint;

2, today’s Gospel reading;

3, a prayer from the USPG prayer diary.

Saint Cedd was Bishop of the East Saxons and founded Lastingham Abbey

Early English pre-Reformation saints: 10, Saint Cedd of Lastingham

Saint Cedd of Lastingham is commemorated in Common Worship on 26 October. Cedd was born in Northumbria in the late sixth century and with his brother, Saint Chad of Lichfield, he joined Saint Aidan’s monastery in Lindisfarne, where he served many years.

When King Peada of the Middle Angles became a Christian, Cedd was sent with three other priests to preach the gospel in this new territory. Some time later, King Sigebert of the East Saxons was converted and Cedd, now an experienced missionary, went with another priest to Essex. After travelling through the region they reported back to Lindisfarne where Saint Cedd was consecrated bishop for the East Saxons.

He returned to Essex to continue his work, building churches, two monasteries, and ordaining deacons and priests.

While on a visit to Northumbria he founded his third monastery, at Lastingham, where he died of fever in 664 after attending the Synod of Whitby.

Whitby Abbey … Saint Cedd died at Lastingham after attending the Synod of Whitby in the year 664 (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2023)

Matthew 5: 20-26 (NRSVA):

[Jesus said:] 20 ‘For I tell you, unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.

21 ‘You have heard that it was said to those of ancient times, “You shall not murder”; and “whoever murders shall be liable to judgement.” 22 But I say to you that if you are angry with a brother or sister, you will be liable to judgement; and if you insult a brother or sister, you will be liable to the council; and if you say, “You fool”, you will be liable to the hell of fire. 23 So when you are offering your gift at the altar, if you remember that your brother or sister has something against you, 24 leave your gift there before the altar and go; first be reconciled to your brother or sister, and then come and offer your gift. 25 Come to terms quickly with your accuser while you are on the way to court with him, or your accuser may hand you over to the judge, and the judge to the guard, and you will be thrown into prison. 26 Truly I tell you, you will never get out until you have paid the last penny.’

King Peada of Mercia (right) with Saint Chad (centre) and Richard II (left) on the West Front of Lichfield Cathedral … King Peada sent Saint Cedd to preach in Mercia (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Today’s Prayers (Friday 23 February 2024):

The theme this week in ‘Pray With the World Church,’ the Prayer Diary of the Anglican mission agency USPG (United Society Partners in the Gospel), is ‘Stories of Hope, Ukraine – Two years on …’ This theme was introduced on Sunday by Rachel Weller, Digital Communications Officer, USPG.

The USPG Prayer Diary today (23 February 2024) invites us to pray in these words:

We pray God’s protection on the Ukrainian people who receive support from the LWF’s community centre. We pray particularly for the children as they settle into schools; may God be close in a place that can feel lonely.

The Collect:

Almighty God,
who gave to your servant Polycarp
boldness to confess the name of our Saviour Jesus Christ
before the rulers of this world
and courage to die for his faith:
grant that we also may be ready
to give an answer for the faith that is in us
and to suffer gladly for the sake of our Lord Jesus Christ,
who is alive and reigns with you,
in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and for ever.

The Post-Communion Prayer:

God our redeemer,
whose Church was strengthened by the blood of your martyr Polycarp:
so bind us, in life and death, to Christ’s sacrifice
that our lives, broken and offered with his,
may carry his death and proclaim his resurrection in the world;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Yesterday’s Reflection: Saint Aidan of Lindisfarne

Tomorrow: James the Deacon, companion of Paulinus

The ruins in the Agora are all that remain of classical Smyrna … the Church Calendar remembers Saint Polycarp of Smyrna on 23 February (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

Daily prayers during Christmas and Epiphany: 15, 8 January 2024

The ruins in the Agora are all that remain of classical Smyrna in Izmir today (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Patrick Comerford

We are still celebrating Epiphany-tide today (8 January 2023). The week began with the First Sunday of Epiphany yesterday (7 January 2024), and the Baptism of Christ is marked liturgically today only if the Epiphany was celebrated yesterday rather than on Saturday.

Christmas is not a season of 12 days, but a 40-day season that lasts from Christmas Day (25 December) to Candlemas or the Feast of the Presentation (2 February).

I am still shaken by the Civud symptoms that kep two of us at home all last week, and that have prevented me from going to church for two successive Sundays. Whatever today may hold, before the day begins I am taking some time this morning for reading, reflection and prayer.

My reflections each morning during the seven days of this week include:

1, A reflection on one of the seven churches named in Revelation 2-3 as one of the recipients of letters from Saint John on Patmos;

2, the Gospel reading of the day;

3, a prayer from the USPG prayer diary.

Under the Romans, Smyrna vied with Ephesus for the title of First City of Asia (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

The Churches of the Book of Revelation: 2, Smyrna:

Smyrna is one of the seven churches in Asia Minor to receive a letter from Saint John as he describes his revelation on Patmos: Ephesus (Revelation 2: 1-7), Smyrna (Revelation 2: 8-11), Pergamum (Revelation 2: 12-17), Thyatira (Revelation 2: 18-29), Sardis (Revelation 3: 1-6), Philadelphia (Revelation 3: 7-13) and Laodicea (Revelation 3: 14-22).

The second letter in these chapters is addressed to the Church in Smyrna, known in modern Turkey as Izmir. The Book of Revelation tells us the Church in Smyrna was poor and the Christians of Smyrna were suffering persecution (Revelation 2: 9). But – in contrast to the other six churches – nothing negative is said about the Church of Smyrna.

Smyrna (Σμύρνη) probably dates back to the first half of the third millennium BCE, and became one of the wealthiest cities in that part of the ancient and classical world. The Temple of Athena dated back to the seventh century BCE. The city was subsequently relocated and rebuilt by Lysimachus, one of Alexander the Great’s generals. Alongside Ephesus, it became one of the most important coastal cities in Asia Minor. As one of the principal cities of Roman Asia, Smyrna vied with Ephesus and Pergamum for recognition as the ‘First City of Asia.’

Smyrna was a centre of the imperial cult, with a temple to the Emperor Augustus and his mother, and a temple to Tiberius, even though he had never been officially deified by the Roman senate.

There was a Christian church in Smyrna from a very early time, probably originating in the considerable Jewish colony. Saint Ignatius of Antioch visited Smyrna and later wrote letters to its bishop, Saint Polycarp. By the time Polycarp was bishop, Smyrna had a population of 100,000. Polycarp’s story provides the first authentic post-Biblical narrative of the martyrdom of a leading Christian. He is thought to have lived around 69-156 CE, and is said to have been converted by Saint John, who appointed him Bishop of Smyrna. He was arrested and was burned to death in the stadium in Smyrna.

Saint Irenaeus, who heard Polycarp as a boy, was probably a native of Smyrna. Polycrates recounts a succession of bishops, including Polycarp, and the church in Smyrna was one of only two that Tertullian acknowledged as having some form of apostolic succession.

The Turks first captured Smyrna in 1076 under the Seljuk commander Caka Bey, who used Smyrna as a base for naval raids. After his death in 1102, the city returned to Byzantine rule, but a century later it was captured by the Knights of Rhodes when Constantinople was conquered by the Crusaders in 1204.

Until the 13th century, Smyrna remained one of the largest cities in our civilisation. It was recaptured in the early 14th century by the Turks under Umur Bey, who used the city as a base for naval raids. In 1344, the Genoese took back the castle, but Smyrna was captured by the Ottomans in 1389.

Fleeing the Spanish inquisition, Ladino-speaking Jews first arrived in Smyrna around 1492, and the city became one of their principal centres in the Ottoman Empire. The emergence of Smyrna as a major international port in the 17th century was helped by its attraction to foreigners and its European cultural attractions. In 1620, privileged trading conditions were granted to foreigners, foreign consulates and trade centres were established along the quays, and within time the city a large population that included French, English, Dutch and Italian merchants, living alongside large communities of Greeks, Armenians and Jews.

After the Ottoman conquest, Greek influence remained so strong in the area that the Turks called the city ‘Smyrna of the infidels.’

Smyrna was a predominantly Greek city in the first three decades of the early 20th century, with Greek-speaking people making up perhaps 70% of the population. And so it seemed appropriate after Ottoman Turkey’s defeat in World War I that Smyrna – along with large parts of Anatolia and western Turkey – was placed under Greek rule according to the terms of the Treaty of Sevres.

The Greek army moved into Smyrna on 15 May 1919, but the subsequent Greek expedition into central Anatolia turned into a disaster for both Greece and for the local Greek people in Turkey.

The Turkish army captured Smyrna on 9 September 1922, putting an end to the three-year war between Greece and Turkey. When the Turks took Smyrna, they proclaimed a jihad and the atrocities against the Greek and Armenian communities began immediately. The Orthodox Metropolitan Chrysostomos was murdered and as many as 100,000 Armenian and Greek Christians were slaughtered throughout the city.

The fire that broke out in Smyrna on 13 September 1922, four days after the capture of the city, is one of the greatest disasters in Greek and Turkish history. The city became the scene of the worst Turkish excesses against the Greek population of Anatolia, and most of the city was burned to the ground in a fire that raged for days. As thousands of Christians were murdered, allied ships in the harbour stood idly by and for three days refused the pleas for safe passage for a quarter of a million refugees huddled in terror on the quayside.

The New York Times, in a report on 18 September 1922 headed ‘Smyrna’s ravagers fired on Americans,’ documented the relentless destruction of the Christian quarters of the city and the massacre of Christians by Turkish troops.

US soldiers and volunteers were attacked when they tried to help Armenians and Greeks. Other contemporary reports put the death toll at over 100,000. In the Armenian quarter alone, the 25,000 residents were systematically butchered and then the streets and houses were set aflame to incinerate any lingering survivors.

In desperation, many jumped into the waters they escape their pursuers and drowned before the eyes of the very people who had the means to rescue them. On board the British, French and US ships, military bands played loud music to drown out the screams of the huddled, pleading and drowning Greeks and Armenians. Eventually, when they allowed Christians on board, they excluded all males between the ages of 17 and 45 years old.

About 400,000 Greek and Armenian refugees from Smyrna and the surrounding area received Red Cross aid immediately after the destruction of the city. In all, about 1.5 million Greek refugees from the region arrived in Greece in the weeks that followed.

Smyrna in 1922 is one of the early, horrific examples of attempted ‘ethnic cleansing’ and genocide in 20th century Europe.

Modern İzmir was built from scratch on the ashes of the despoiled and ravaged city, and is Turkey’s third-largest city. The 30-hectare Kültürpark was laid out on the ruins of the Greek quarter in the heart of the city. The population is predominantly Muslim, although İzmir is still home to Turkey’s second largest Jewish community. Today fewer than 1,300 Jews in Smyrna, and there are nine synagogues in the city, although only two are in regular use by the Jewish community. The Levantines of İzmir, are mostly of Genoese, French and Venetian descent.

Surprisingly, İzmir has a tiny Greek minority today. The few thousand Greek Orthodox inhabitants are descendants of the handful of Greeks who held British or Italian passports in 1922 and decided to stay on. It is said too that the descendants of many of Smyrna’s exiled Greeks still legally hold the title to much of the land in prosperous suburbs such as Karşıyaka, once known as Peramos (Πέραμος). But most of Smyrna's Greeks settled in places that took names such as Nea Smyrna (Νέα Σμύρνη) in Athens.

Nothing is left of the Hellenistic and Roman cities that once stood here, apart from the well-preserved Agora, dating from the 2nd century BCE. Other important historical remains are still buried under modern buildings, including the ancient theatre of Smyrna where Polycarp was martyred.

The 42-hectare Kültürpark was laid out on the ruins of the Greek quarter of Smyrna (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

In the Book of Revelation, we read that Smyrna (Revelation 2: 8-11) was admired for its affliction and poverty and was about to suffer persecution (2: 10).

Verse 8:

The letter to Smyrna introduces Christ as the first and the last, the πρῶτος (protos) and the ἔσχατος (eschatos), who was dead and who came to life. Compare this to the description at the beginning and the end of the Book of Revelation of Christ as the Alpha and the Omega (1: 18 and 21: 6). The reference to one who was dead and who came to life is also appropriate in Smyrna, a city that had been destroyed by the Lydians and that lay in ruins until it was rebuilt by Lysimachus.

Verse 9:

This letter commends the Church in Smyrna for its perseverance in the face of affliction and poverty, with the Christians of Smyrna bravely hanging on to their faith despite severe affliction and persecution. Despite their poverty, the Christians of Smyrna are rich in things spiritual. ‘Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God’ (Luke 6: 20).

The use of the expression ‘synagogue of Satan’ to describe the non-Christian Jews of Smyrna sounds shocking today in the light of how verses such as this have been misappropriated across time in antisemitic attacks.

Verse 10:

The description of the sufferings facing the Christians of Smyrna must have been read with greater poignancy after the martyrdom of Polycarp and other leaders. However, this persecution will not last long – ten days is used in apocalyptic literature to say that a period of testing or tribulation is going to be limited and not lengthy (see Daniel 1: 12). In Saint John’s time, ten days was the length of two gladiatorial contests in the stadium.

They are urged: ‘Be faithful to the point of death, and I will give you the crown of life’ (Revelation 2: 10) – the persecution continued into the 2nd century. The image of the ‘crown of life’ may have been derived from the crown or wreath that was the most common symbol on coins in Smyrna and from the crown that athletes were rewarded with in the stadium.

Verse 11:

Christ tells the Church in Smyrna that he who conquers will not be harmed by the second death. Those who are baptised into Christ are already dead, for baptism is symbolic of the first death. After baptism, the second death is entry into eternal life and into the presence of God. Once again, a reference to victory has been disclosed.

As with all seven churches, the church in Smyrna is called on to hear the message: ‘Let anyone who has an ear listen to what the Spirit is saying to the churches’ (verse 11).

‘The Call of the Disciples’ (Mark 1: 14-20) … a window by the Harry Clarke Studios in Christ Church, Spanish Point, Co Clare, depicts the ‘Calling of Saint Peter and Saint Andrew’ – although only one disciple is present (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Mark 1: 14-20 (NRSVA):

14 Now after John was arrested, Jesus came to Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God, 15 and saying, ‘The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.’

16 As Jesus passed along the Sea of Galilee, he saw Simon and his brother Andrew casting a net into the lake – for they were fishermen. 17 And Jesus said to them, ‘Follow me and I will make you fish for people.’ 18 And immediately they left their nets and followed him. 19 As he went a little farther, he saw James son of Zebedee and his brother John, who were in their boat mending the nets. 20 Immediately he called them; and they left their father Zebedee in the boat with the hired men, and followed him.

They ‘were in their boat mending the nets’ (Mark 1: 19) … nets and fishing boats in the harbour in Rethymnon, in Crete (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Today’s Prayers (Monday 8 January 2024):

The theme this week in ‘Pray With the World Church,’ the Prayer Diary of the Anglican mission agency USPG (United Society Partners in the Gospel), is: ‘Whom Shall I Send’ – Episcopal Province of Jerusalem and the Middle East. This theme was introduced yesterday by the Revd Davidson Solanki, USPG Regional Manager, Asia and the Middle East.

The USPG Prayer Diary today (8 January 2024) invites us to pray in these words:

Loving God, we pray for every young individual taking part in the ‘Whom Shall I Send’ programme. May they be ignited in their faith to serve their communities.

They ‘were in their boat mending the nets’ (Mark 1: 19) … tending nets on a fishing boat in the harbour in Panormos, in Crete (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

The Collect:

Eternal Father,
who at the baptism of Jesus
revealed him to be your Son,
anointing him with the Holy Spirit:
grant to us, who are born again by water and the Spirit,
that we may be faithful to our calling as your adopted children;
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 of all time and eternity,
you opened the heavens and revealed yourself as Father
in the baptism of Jesus your beloved Son:
by the power of your Spirit
complete the heavenly work of our rebirth
through the waters of the new creation;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Additional Collect:

Heavenly Father,
at the Jordan you revealed Jesus as your Son:
may we recognize him as our Lord
and know ourselves to be your beloved children;
through Jesus Christ our Saviour.

Yesterday’s reflection (Ephesus)

Continued tomorrow (Pergamon)

Smyrna is among the places named on the monument on Mikrasiaton Square in Rethymnon commemorating the Greek Genocide in Asia Minor over 100 years ago (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

Praying in Ordinary Time with USPG and TS Eliot’s ‘The Waste Land’: Wednesday 9 November 2022

Saint Augustine depicted in a stained glass window by George W Walsh in Saint Augustine’s Church, Galway … ‘The Fire Sermon’ draws heavily on Saint Augustine’s ‘Confessions’ (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2022)

Patrick Comerford

Today, the Calendar of the Church of England in Common Worship remembers Margery Kempe, Mystic (ca 1440) with a commemoration (9 November 2022).

Margery Kempe was born in King’s Lynn in Norfolk in the late 14th century, a contemporary of Julian of Norwich. She received many visions, several of them of the holy family, one of the most regular being of the crucifixion. She also had conversations with the saints. She was much sought after as a visionary, was endlessly in trouble with the Church, rebuked by the Archbishop, and was more than once imprisoned.

Following the messages in her visions, she undertook pilgrimages to many holy places, including Walsingham, Canterbury, Compostela, Rome and Jerusalem, often setting out penniless. She was blessed with the gift of tears and seems to have been favoured with singular signs of Christ’s love, whereby for long periods she enjoyed consciousness of a close communion with him and developed a strong compassion for the sins of the world. Her autobiography, The Book of Margery Kempe, recounts her remarkable life. She died in the mid-15th century.

Before this day gets busy, I am taking some time this morning for reading, prayer and reflection.

Throughout this week, I am reflecting in these ways:

1, One of the readings for the morning;

2, A reflection based on TS Eliot’s ‘The Waste Land,’ first published 100 years ago, in 1922;

3, a prayer from the USPG prayer diary, ‘Pray with the World Church.’

‘… where the walls / Of Magnus Martyr hold / Inexplicable splendour of Ionic white and gold’ (TS Eliot, ‘The Waste Land’) … Saint Magnus Martyr Church is one of two London churches named in ‘The Waste Land’ (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2022)

Luke 17: 11-19 (NRSVA):

11 On the way to Jerusalem Jesus was going through the region between Samaria and Galilee. 12 As he entered a village, ten lepers approached him. Keeping their distance, 13nthey called out, saying, ‘Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!’ 14 When he saw them, he said to them, ‘Go and show yourselves to the priests.’ And as they went, they were made clean. 15 Then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice. 16 He prostrated himself at Jesus’ feet and thanked him. And he was a Samaritan. 17 Then Jesus asked, ‘Were not ten made clean? But the other nine, where are they? 18 Was none of them found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?’ 19 Then he said to him, ‘Get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well.’

‘Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song …/Sweet Thames, run softly till I end my song / Sweet Thames, run softly, for I speak not loud or long’ (TS Eliot, ‘The Waste Land’) … Fishmongers Hall and London Bridge seen from the South Bank near Southwark Cathedral (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2022)

The Waste Land 3: ‘The Fire Sermon’

TS Eliot published ‘The Waste Land’ in 1922, the same year as James Joyce published Ulysses. The poem includes well-known phrases such as ‘April is the cruellest month,’ and ‘I will show you fear in a handful of dust.’ Recent studies see in ‘The Waste Land’ a description of Eliot’s pilgrimage from the Unitarianism of his childhood to his life-lasting Anglo-Catholicism.

‘The Waste Land’, which I am reflecting on throughout this week, was first published 100 years ago at the end in 1922. It is a masterpiece of modern literature and one of the greatest poems in the English language. Its opening lines are often quoted, even by people who have never read all five sections and 434 lines of the poem.

‘The Waste Land’ was published in Eliot’s The Criterion in October 1922. It was then published in the US in the November issue of The Dial, and was published in book form in December 1922.

To mark the 100th anniversary of the publication of The Waste Land in 1922, I am dipping in and out of the five sections of The Waste Land in this prayer diary each day this week. ‘The Waste Land’ is divided into five sections:

1, ‘The Burial of the Dead’, introduces the diverse themes of disillusionment and despair.

2, ‘A Game of Chess’, employs alternating narrations, in which vignettes of several characters address those themes experientially.

3, ‘The Fire Sermon’, offers a philosophical meditation in relation to the imagery of death and views of self-denial in juxtaposition, influenced by Augustine of Hippo and Eastern religions.

4, ‘Death by Water’, includes a brief lyrical petition.

5, ‘What the Thunder Said’, the culminating fifth section, concludes with an image of judgment.

The third section, of ‘The Waste Land,’ ‘The Fire Sermon,’ offers a philosophical meditation in relation to the imagery of death and views of self-denial in juxtaposition, influenced by Saint Augustine of Hippo and Eastern religions.

The title of this, the longest section of ‘The Waste Land’, is from a sermon by Buddha in which he encourages his followers to give up earthly passions, symbolised by fire, and to seek freedom from earthly things. A turn away from the earthly does indeed take place in this section, as a series of increasingly debased sexual encounters concludes with a river-song and a religious incantation.

A fisherman’s bar is described, then a beautiful church interior, then the Thames itself. Even amidst the moral and physical decay of the Thames River that is depicted in the first stanzas of ‘The Fire Sermon,’ Eliot juxtaposes one physical place, the ruined river, with another place, the Church of Saint Magnus Martyr:

O City city, I can sometimes hear
beside a public bar in Lower Thames Street,
The pleasant whining of a mandolin
And a clatter and a chatter from within
Where fishmen lounge at noon: where the walls
Of Magnus Martyr hold
Inexplicable splendour of Ionian white and gold.

Eliot is recalling an important church in London, the sounds associated with it, and the sights of the people there, which is indicative of his strong attachment to senses and to memory.

These seven lines are a brief digression from a section in ‘The Waste Land’ that is dedicated entirely to describing the vices that are ‘on fire’ in London as the consequences of excessive passions. But the few lines where the poet turns his eyes to Saint Magnus Martyr display a shift in Eliot’s use of sensory experience: the senses, here, are used in a reverent way to remember and contemplate something transcendent of which the church is a vestige.

John Betjeman would later write: ‘the whole district smells of fish, but inside the church there is the abrupt change to a smell of incense.’

In a footnote, Eliot says the interior of the church is ‘one of the finest among Wren’s interiors.’ Barry Spurr notes that Saint Magnus Martyr ‘was one of the leading shrines of the Anglo-Catholic movement and it is very notable that Eliot should not only refer to it, but, in the midst of a poem of almost unrelieved negativity, present it so positively (if somewhat uncomprehendingly) in terms of the exquisite beauty of its interior: its “Inexplicable splendour of Ionian white and gold”.’

Spurr points out that white and gold are ‘the liturgical colours … of Eastertide and resurrection, a concept otherwise denied repeatedly throughout ‘The Waste Land’.’

Father George Every told Spurr that Eliot started frequenting the High Mass at Saint Magnus the Martyr after World War I, and that ‘the influence of the liturgy on the drama was indeed apparent to him before he was a believer. Images out of Murder in the Cathedral and The Family Reunion belong to this time.’ Eliot first enjoyed Saint Magnus aesthetically for its ‘splendour’ and that later he appreciated its ‘utility’ when he came there as a sinner.

This section also refers to Queen Victoria Street, but neither of the two churches on the street, Saint Benet Paul’s Wharf and Saint Andrew-by-the-Wardrobe, are named in this section. On the other hand, this section includes portions of many musical pieces, including Spenser’s wedding song, a soldier’s ballad, a nightingale’s chirps, a song from Oliver Goldsmith’s The Vicar of Wakefield, and a mandolin tune, which has no words but is echoed in ‘a clatter and a chatter from within’.

Mr Eugenides, a Greek merchant from Smyrna in this section, is probably the one-eyed merchant of Madame Sosostris’s tarot pack. His pocket is full of currants, small, seedless and dried grapes that are the deadened version of fertile fruits and the product of The Waste Land, from the infertile land of the Fisher King. His pocket full of this product foreshadows a dark future.

In his notes, Eliot describes ‘The Waste Land’ as a commentary on ‘the present decay of Eastern Europe.’ It is an interesting remark, for one of the most terrifying symbols of that decay in 1922, as Eliot was finalising the text of ‘The Waste Land,’ was the burning of Smyrna.

The Turkish army captured Smyrna on 9 September 1922, promptly proclaimed a jihad and the atrocities against the Greek and Armenian communities began immediately. The Orthodox Metropolitan Chrysostomos was murdered and as many as 100,000 Armenian and Greek Christians were slaughtered throughout the city.

The fire that broke out in Smyrna on 13 September 1922, four days after the capture of the city, is one of the greatest disasters in Greek and Turkish history. The city became the scene of the worst Turkish excesses against the Greek population of Anatolia, and most of the city was burned to the ground in a fire that raged for days.

As thousands of Christians were murdered, allied ships in the harbour stood idly by and for three days refused the pleas of a quarter of a million refugees huddled in terror on the quayside. In desperation, many jumped into the waters they escape their pursuers and drowned before the eyes of the very people who had the means to rescue them.

Raisins and currants were a major part of the trade of Greeks in Smyrna until then. Perhaps Eliot was conscious of the unsavoury and catastrophic consequences for Europe of the genocide of the Christians in Smyrna as he put the finishing touches to ‘The Waste Land,’ subconsciously giving this unsavoury character an identifiable Greek name, and indicating the death of the Christian way of life in major world event at that time.

The Agora in Smyrna … the genocide of Greeks and Armenians in Smyrna by fire and drowning took place weeks before the publication of ‘The Waste Land’ (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

This section of the poem comes to an abrupt end with a few lines from Saint Augustine’s Confessions and a vague reference to the Buddha’s ‘Fire Sermon.’ Eliot claims to have deliberately conflated Augustine and the Buddha, as the representatives of Eastern and Western asceticism. Both seem, in the lines Eliot quotes, to be unable to transcend the world on their own: Augustine must call on God to ‘pluck [him] out,’ while Buddha can only repeat the word ‘burning,’ unable to break free of its monotonous fascination.

Augustine’s Confessions and Buddha’s ‘Fire Sermon’ offer a solution for the social and cultural problems that Eliot expresses in his poem. Eliot weaves together the Christian and Buddhist texts in short and seemingly disconnected phrases.

The last five lines of ‘The Fire Sermon’ read:

To Carthage then I came
Burning burning burning burning
O Lord Thou pluckest me out
O Lord Thou pluckest
Burning

The first, third, and fourth lines above are references to Saint Augustine’s Confessions, while the second and fifth lines refer to Buddha’s ‘Fire Sermon.’ Eliot presents Saint Augustine and Buddha as the exemplars of asceticism for their particular religious culture.

Eliot alludes to Buddha in order to point out that sensory experience without spiritual guidance is what ignites passions. The title, ‘The Fire Sermon,’ is a direct reference to a sermon in which Buddha, wandering with a congregation of priests, eventually turns to them and says: ‘All things, O priests, are on fire … And with what are these on fire? With the fire of passion, say I, with the fire of hatred, with the fire of infatuation; with birth, old age, death, sorrow, lamentation, misery, grief, and despair are they on fire.’

Eliot sees memory as a vital factor in spiritual salvation, and it is on this foundation that he introduces Saint Augustine’s Confessions as his solution to society’s moral problem.

‘To Carthage then I came’ is a reference to Book III of the Confessions, in which the young Augustine describes the first time he arrived in Carthage and saw how it was filled with worldly vices. The temptations Augustine sees in Carthage echo what Buddha is advising against in his sermon, and he makes use of the term ‘burning’ in the same way that Buddha used it in his Fire Sermon – as a negative way to describe the vices that pull on the soul and lead it to temptation and sin.

After the ‘burning burning burning burning’ cadence that follows the reference to Book III, Eliot draws on Book X in the Confessions:

O Lord Thou pluckest me out
O Lord Thou pluckest

In Book X, Saint Augustine moves from his autobiographical narrative to examine the implications of his spiritual journey. Once he has established the importance of Christianity for spiritual salvation, he elaborates in the rest of the books in his Confessions on how to achieve salvation. Book X discusses the importance and power of memory throughout several chapters.

Saint Augustine does not limit his memory to himself. His ability to analyse and learn from the includes drawing on the faith of others, which creates a collective memory that strengthen his own faith.

The last line in ‘The Fire Sermon’ is the single word ‘burning.’ Perhaps Eliot is signalling to his readers that an absolute rejection of our senses, as Buddha advocated, should not be the solution to our depravity. Instead, our senses should be aided by our memory and our innate disposition towards the divine, much like Augustine did in his search for God.

There are places in ‘The Fire Sermon’ that reveal a remedy, if not a hope, for an ailing society. By using Saint Augustine’s Confessions and Buddha’s ‘Fire Sermon’, Eliot is reminding us that the answers to our soul’s depravity are all around us, in our collective culture.

‘At the violet hour, when the eyes and back / Turn upwards from the desk …’ (TS Eliot, ‘The Waste Land’) … the clock at Saint Magnus Martyr Church once hung over the access to London Bridge (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2022)

Today’s Prayer (Wednesday 9 November 2022):

The Collect:

Almighty Father,
whose will is to restore all things
in your beloved Son, the King of all:
govern the hearts and minds of those in authority,
and bring the families of the nations,
divided and torn apart by the ravages of sin,
to be subject to his just and gentle rule;
who is alive and reigns with you,
in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and for ever.

The Post Communion Prayer:

God of peace,
whose Son Jesus Christ proclaimed the kingdom
and restored the broken to wholeness of life:
look with compassion on the anguish of the world,
and by your healing power
make whole both people and nations;
through our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.

The theme in the USPG Prayer Diary this week is ‘A New Commandment.’ This theme was introduced on Sunday by Sue Claydon, chair of the Anglican Pacifist Fellowship.

The USPG Prayer Diary invites us to pray today in these words:

We pray for all those working for peace within families, communities and nations, give them courage and strength in often difficult situations.

Yesterday’s reflection

Continued tomorrow

Buddha depicted on a panel at the Japanese Peace Pagoda in Milton Keynes … ‘The Fire Sermon’ takes its title from a sermon by Buddha (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2022)

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

The statue of Oliver Goldsmith at Trinity College Dublin … Eliot quotes a song from Oliver Goldsmith’s ‘The Vicar of Wakefield’ in ‘The Waste Land’ (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2022)