Daily prayer in Ordinary Time 2026: 145, Wednesday 30 September 2026

‘Disturb us, Lord … when we arrived safely because we sailed too close to the shore’ … after sunset on the shore below the Fortezza in Rethymnon in Crete (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Patrick Comerford

We have arrived at the end of September and we are continuing in Ordinary Time in the Church Calendar. The week began with Seventeenth Sunday after Trinity (Trinity XVII, 27 September 2026), and the calendar of the Church of England in Common Worship today remembers Saint Jerome (420), Translator of the Scriptures, Teacher of the Faith.

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.

‘Disturb us, Lord … when we arrived safely because we sailed too close to the shore’ … sails and boats in the harbour in Rethymnon at sunset (Photograph: Patrick Comerford; click on image for full-screen viewing)

Luke 9: 57-62 (NRSVA):

57 As they were going along the road, someone said to him, ‘I will follow you wherever you go.’ 58 And Jesus said to him, ‘Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.’ 59 To another he said, ‘Follow me.’ But he said, ‘Lord, first let me go and bury my father.’ 60 But Jesus said to him, ‘Let the dead bury their own dead; but as for you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God.’ 61 Another said, ‘I will follow you, Lord; but let me first say farewell to those at my home.’ 62 Jesus said to him, ‘No one who puts a hand to the plough and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.’

Sir Francis Drake … ‘it is not the beginning, but the continuing of the same unto the end, until it be thoroughly finished, which yieldeth the true glory’

Today’s Reflections:

Saint Luke is a great story-teller, and we are all captivated by his stories of healing and his parables: the Good Samaritan, the Prodigal Son, the unjust steward, and so on.

So this morning’s Gospel reading at the Eucharist (Luke 9: 57-62) comes as a little surprise. The first impression is that there is no story here, no drama, no healing, no showing how society’s perceived underdog is really a model for our own behaviour, for my behaviour – indeed a model of how God behaves, and behaves towards us.

Instead, what we have what reads like a series of pithy statements from Jesus: like a collection of sayings from the Desert Fathers or even a collection of popular sayings from Zen masters.

Good stories about wayward sons and muggings on the roadside make for good drama, and healing stories are great soap opera. But they only remain stories and they only remain mini-stage-plays if all we want is good entertainment and forget all about what the main storyline is, what the underlying plot in Saint Luke’s Gospel is.

The context of today’s reading is provided a few verses earlier, when Saint Luke says the days are drawing near and Jesus is setting his face to go to Jerusalem (Luke 9: 51).

It is a challenge to us all. We are called to live not for the pleasure of a dramatic moment, but to live in the one great drama that is taking place: to set our faces on the heavenly Jerusalem; to live as if we really believe in the New Heaven and the New Earth.

We are called not to be conditional disciples – being a Christian when I look after everything else, sometime in the future. We are called to be committed disciples – to live as Christians in the here-and-now.

There is the man who wants to follow Jesus, but only if he can hold on to his wealth and property (Luke 9: 57-58). There is the man who wants to follow Jesus, but not until he has looked after burying his father (Luke 9: 59-60). There is the man who wants to follow Jesus, but who thinks first he must consider what his friends and those at home would think before he leaves them (Luke 10: 61-62).

Of course, it is good to have a home of my own and not to live in a foxhole. Of course, it is good that each of us should take responsibility for ageing parents and to bury them when they die. Of course, it is good that we should not walk out on our families, our friends and our responsibilities.

Of course, domestic security, filial duty and loyal affection are high ideals. But they are conditional, while the call of the kingdom is compelling, urgent and imperative. And it demands commitment in such a way that it puts all other loyalties in second place.

Christ is not saying that these men had the wrong values. But he sees how we can use values so that we can end up with the wrong priorities.

As GB Caird pointed out in his commentary on Saint Luke’s Gospel, sometimes the most difficult choices in life for most of us are not between good and evil, but between the good and the best. I am sure these three ‘wannabe’ disciples presented good excuses. But discipleship on my own terms is not what Christ asks of me. It can only be on his terms. There is no conditional discipleship, there is only committed discipleship.

As advertisers remind us constantly, there are terms and conditions attached to most things in life. But there can be no terms and conditions attached when it comes to being a disciple, to being a follower of Jesus.

As his ship, the Elizabeth Bonaventure, lay at anchor at Cape Sakar on 17 May 1587 after the sacking of Sagress, Sir Francis Drake wrote to Elizabeth I’s secretary of state, Sir Francis Walsingham: ‘There must be a begynnyng of any great matter, but the contenewing unto the end untyll it be thoroughly ffynyshed yeldes the trew glory.’

These words were later adapted by Eric Milner-White (1884-1963), who is credited with introducing the Service of Nine Lessons and Carols when he was the Dean of King’s College, Cambridge (1918-1941). In a collection of prayers he compiled and published in 1941 as he was moving from King’s to become Dean of York, he adapted Drake’s words in what has become a well-known prayer:

O Lord God,
when thou givest to thy servants
to endeavour any great matter,
grant us also to know that it is not the beginning,
but the continuing of the same unto the end,
until it be thoroughly finished, which yieldeth the true glory;
through him who for the finishing of thy work
laid down his life, our Redeemer, Jesus Christ.

— after Francis Drake (c. 1540-1596)

But there is another prayer that is also attributed to Francis Drake. After the Golden Hinde sailed from Portsmouth to raid Spanish Gold before sailing on to California, he is said to have written:

Disturb us, Lord,
when we are too well pleased with ourselves;
when our dreams have come true
because we have dreamed too little,
when we arrived safely
because we sailed too close to the shore.

Disturb us, Lord, when
with the abundance of things we possess
we have lost our thirst
for the waters of life;
having fallen in love with life,
we have ceased to dream of eternity
and in our efforts to build a new earth,
we have allowed our vision
of the new Heaven to dim.

Disturb us, Lord, to dare more boldly –
to venture on wider seas
where storms will show your mastery;
where losing sight of land,
We shall find the stars.

We ask you to push back
the horizons of our hopes;
and to push back the future
in strength, courage, hope, and love.

This we ask in the name of our Captain,
who is Jesus Christ.

This prayer exists in different versions, and many of these versions include lines that sound too modern to be Drake’s own words. Indeed, it is difficult to be certain whether any of this prayer was written or prayed by Drake himself, although, as the first person to circumnavigate the globe, he would certainly have understood its sentiment.

There is a well-known saying: ‘A ship in the harbour is safe, but that’s not what ships are built for.’ Food, shelter, and warmth are not enough on their own. In order to flourish, we need a dream – a sense of purpose. A dream come true is, by definition, not a dream any more. And when our dreams come true, we need to dream new dreams, for: ‘Where there is no vision, the people perish’ (Proverbs 28.19).

So often, it is true, church life is a tussle between young people who want to try new things and older people who so want to keep things as they are. But young adventurers also need older people with wisdom and perspective who can still retain and nurture a healthy sense of adventure.

Drake’s prayer expresses the excitement of faith. It is so easy for some to dismiss faith as a crutch for the weak and prayer as a sign of weakness. But if all our prayers were prayers for help, then would there be nothing more to life than merely coping with it and whatever it brings us?

‘No one who puts a hand to the plough and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God’ (Luke 9: 62) … sculpture in Kanturk, Co Cork, of Thady Kelleher (1935-2004), World and All-Ireland Ploughing Champion (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Today’s Prayers (Wednesday 30 September 2026):

In Pray with the World Church, the prayer diary of the Anglican mission agency USPG (United Society Partners in the Gospel), the theme this week, from 27 September to 3 October 2026 (pp 42-43), is ‘Power of Language’. This theme was introduced on Sunday with a reflection by Rachel Weller, Communications Officer, USPG.

The USPG Prayer Diary today (30 September 2026, International Translation Day) invites us to pray:

Gracious God, bless those who translate and interpret, making knowledge, scripture, and worship accessible to all.

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

‘Foxes have holes … but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head’ (Luke 9: 57) … a fox in street art in Lichfield (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

59 million metres of waterways, 59 million tonnes of waste food, 59 million pages in a dictionary, 59 million readers of this blog

There are 59,000 km (59 million metres) of total waterways in England … boats on the Trent and Mersey Canal in Rugeley, Staffordshire (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2026)

Patrick Comerford

This month has been an exceptionally busy time on this blog, with a steady, overwhelming rise in viewing and reading figures. These figures reached 59 million late yesterday afternoon (28 September), having reached 58 million five days before that (23 September), 57 million five days earlier (18 September), and 56 million three days before that (15 September).

This is the eleventh time these figures have passed the million mark since the end of last month. In a steady climb, the figures reached 55 million on 12 September, 54 million two nights before that (10 September 2026), 53 million hits the day before that (9 September 2026), 52 million hits two days previously (7 September), 51 million on 5 September, 50 million on 4 September and 49 million on 31 August.

These viewing and readership figures are still overpowering, and this blog continues to reach volumes of readers I never expected when I first started blogging 16 years ago. At the end of last year, this blog had 21 million hits (31 December 2025). So far this year, there have been more than 38 million hits or visitors in 2026 alone, and 10 million so far this month (September) soon after 10 pm last night.

This means half of all hits or reader figures have been within the past six months or so, with 29.5 million hits since 27 March 2026. I first began blogging in 2010, and it took almost two years until July 2012 to reach half a million readers. Throughout this year, the daily figures have often been overwhelming. September is already the busiest month for traffic on this blog, with 10 million hits so far in September, the highest total in any single month since I began blogging.

Of the 10 days of busiest traffic on this blog, seven of them have been in this month alone (1, 5, 7, 8, 9, 11 and 12 September), two were in May (1 and 14 May) and one was in April (29 April):

• 1,124,925 (1 May 2026)
• 671,341 (10 September 2026)
• 647,187 (5 September 2026)
• 618,234 (8 September 2026)
• 583,320 (11 September 2026)

• 563,301 (9 September 2026)
• 557,448 (12 September 2026)
• 525,719 (14 May 2026)
• 513,725 (7 September 2026)
• 509,644 (29 April 2026)

Although traffic has slowed down in the past week or so, the daily average this month has been more than 350,000 hits a day. Yet, I recall how 10 years ago, back in 2016, the daily average was around 1,000, or 30,000 a month.

The second edition of the Oxford English Dictionary was published in 20 volumes in 1989, with 59 million words of text (Photograph: Dan, mrpolyonymous on Flickr / CC BY 2.0 Wikimedia)

Some curious though random statistics help to put this new figure of 59 million into perspective:

Measles vaccination saved almost 59 million people, mainly children, from death between 2000 and 2024, according to figures from the World Health Organisation.

In Europe, 59 million tonnes of food are either lost or wasted every year. At the same time, 42 million people cannot afford a nutritious meal every other day.

The OED2, the second edition of the Oxford English Dictionary, was published on paper in 20 volumes in 1989, with 59 million words of text, 21,730 pages and 290,500 entries.

Italy has an estimated population of 59 million people.

It is estimated that 59 million adults in the United States are unpaid family caregivers for aging members of their families.

An estimated 59 million people require urgent protection and assistance in the Middle East and North Africa region.

There are 59 million millionaires in the world today and about 2,780 billionaires.

59 million metres is 59,000 km. There are 59,000 km of total waterways in England, but public access is highly restricted and heavily contested. While the total network spans tens of thousands of kilometres, the vast majority consists of non-navigable streams, tributaries, and rivers flowing through private land.

According to advocacy groups like Paddle UK (formerly British Canoeing), only 3.4% of rivers in England and Wales have an uncontested public right of navigation. Under English law, the banks and beds of most non-tidal rivers are privately owned, with landowners holding the right to restrict access for paddlers, swimmers and other recreational users.

Out of the 59,000 km, only 4,500 km are classified as Statutory Navigations. These include most managed canals and major rivers, such as the River Thames and River Trent, where legislation explicitly grants public access, usually managed through a licensing system.

59 million minutes amounts to 112 years, 2 months and 4 days. This means that if this blog was receiving just one hit a minute, I would need to have started blogging back in early July 1914, before the beginning of World War I.

I retired from active parish ministry 4½ years ago, on 31 March 2022. These days, though, about 150 people on average are reading my daily prayer diary posted on this blog each morning, or more than 1,000 people each week. As this blog moves beyond 59 million hits, I am truly grateful today to the real readers among that 59 million. In particular, I am thankful for the faithful core group of people who join me in prayer, scripture reading and reflections each day.


How can tourists behave responsibly in Venice? … Italy has an estimated population of 59 million people (Patrick Comerford)

Daily prayer in Ordinary Time 2026: 94, Sunday 9 August 2026, Tenth Sunday after Trinity (Trinity X)

An icon depicting today’s Gospel reading … the Greek text reads ‘Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid’ (Matthew 14: 27)

Patrick Comerford

This is Ordinary Time in the Church Calendar and today is the Tenth Sunday after Trinity (Trinity X, 9 August 2026). Later this morning, I hope to take part in the Parish Eucharist in Saint Mary and Saint Giles Church, Stony Stratford, leading the intercessions. In these early hours, before today begins, I am taking some quiet time this morning to give thanks, 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.

‘Peace. Be still’ … Christ calming the storm … the Cameron window in Saint Seiriol’s Priory Church, Penmon, Anglesey … see Matthew 14: 22-33 (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Matthew 14: 22-33 (NRSVA):

22 Immediately [after feeding the crowd with five loaves and two fish,] he [Jesus] made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead to the other side, while he dismissed the crowds. 23 And after he had dismissed the crowds, he went up the mountain by himself to pray. When evening came, he was there alone, 24 but by this time the boat, battered by the waves, was far from the land, for the wind was against them. 25 And early in the morning he came walking towards them on the lake. 26 But when the disciples saw him walking on the lake, they were terrified, saying, ‘It is a ghost!’ And they cried out in fear. 27 But immediately Jesus spoke to them and said, ‘Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.’

28 Peter answered him, ‘Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.’ 29 He said, ‘Come.’ So Peter got out of the boat, started walking on the water, and came towards Jesus. 30 But when he noticed the strong wind, he became frightened, and beginning to sink, he cried out, ‘Lord, save me!’ 31 Jesus immediately reached out his hand and caught him, saying to him, ‘You of little faith, why did you doubt?’ 32 When they got into the boat, the wind ceased. 33 And those in the boat worshipped him, saying, ‘Truly you are the Son of God.’

‘They got into the boat and went on ahead to the other side’ (Matthew 14: 22) … boats at Messonghi in Corfu (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Today’s Reflections:

The Gospel reading in the Lectionary today (Matthew 14: 22-33) is the same Gospel reading I reflected on last Monday (3 August 2026) and that was an optional reading on Tuesday (4 August 2026). So, I am reflecting on this reading this morning in the light of today marking the 81st anniversary of the atomic bombing of Nagasaki on 9 August 1945.

The bombing of Nagasaki came three days after the bombing of Hiroshima on 6 August, in the closing days of World War II. Within a week, the Japanese emperor had surrendered, and the war came to an end.

Perhaps there was added poignancy in Nagasaki as it was one of the oldest and one of the largest Christian communities in East Asia, and the cathedral was 500 metres from ground zero.

The first use of nuclear weapons was at the ‘Trinity’ test site in the New Mexico desert, at Hiroshima, and at Nagasaki. But this morning, I am asking yet again: what have we learned about war and peace, hatred and justice, since then?

The nuclear arms race continues apace, so that earlier this year [27 January 2026] the Bulletin of Atomic Scientists said the hands on the Doomsday Clock are now at 85 seconds to midnight, making it the closest it has ever been to global catastrophe in its history.

Their warning was issued just a month before the present conflict involving the US and Iran erupted in the Gulf on 28 February and quickly sucked in the rest of the world. When they reset the Doomsday Clock, the scientists said the nuclear threats have increased due to expiring strategic arms control agreements, the lack of replacement treaties, and an aggressive modernisation of arsenals by major nuclear powers.

Other factors include disruptive technologies, with the unmanaged proliferation of artificial intelligence (AI) in military simulations and disinformation risks. The climate and global crises, with ongoing extreme weather events, are accelerating ecological damage, and there is inadequate international co-operation.

These are our worst nightmares. As we fall further and further into the pit, into the abyss, we see too a rise in racism, antisemitism, Islamophobia and far-right populism that are fuelled by the Trump regime and funded and cheered on by people like Elon Musk and platforms such as X (formerly Twitter).

Too much money is being spent on the arms race and hatred, not enough on hospitals, health care and reaching out to one another.

Ever since the pandemic lockdown, many people have seen themselves descending to social, spiritual and psychological depths that in the past were known only at times of great and intimate crises, such as family tragedies.

Social and spiritual isolation seem to have brought many people deeper into the abyss, and since then many people have asked: ‘Where is God in all this?’

This is the context in which I find myself reading today’s lectionary readings. In the Epistle reading (Romans 10: 5-15), Saint Paul asks, ‘Who will descend into the abyss?’ (verse 7), a reference from the Septuagint (Deuteronomy 30) to crossing the seas. Saint Paul too knows that descending to the abyss is not the end: it leads to the end of oppression and to liberation and freedom.

Each and every one of us is overwhelmed by the pressures of life, by the demands of others, by the state of the world today. Yet we can believe, with the benefit of hindsight and through faith, that God is not neglecting his people.

In the Gospel reading (Matthew 14: 22-33), the disciples feel abandoned as they face their worst fears and face the abyss in the sea, the fear of drowning in the storms of life, of falling into the pit.

It is early in the morning, before dawn, and the boat is far from the shore when it is battered by waves and the wind. The disciples have lost control and are frightened. They see Jesus walking on the sea, and are terrified even more, thinking they are seeing a ghost. They cry out in their fears, but Jesus seeks to calm their fears: ‘Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.’

In other Gospel accounts, Jesus says, ‘Peace! Be still!’ (see Mark 4: 39).

Both frightened humanity and disorderly nature listen to the word and obey. In their response, the disciples acknowledge Christ as ‘the Son of God’ (verse 33). He is in control of their fears and of the created order, offering to bring a new creation out of chaos and darkness.

Growing complacency and adversarial, nationalistic rhetoric among global leaders are undermining multilateral safety frameworks, the Bulletin of Atomic Scientists has warned.

But concern for the plight of the world in these dangerous times is not an add-on to mission – it is at the very heart of mission. Two of the five marks of mission – hallmarks of Anglican identity and mission – are ‘to challenge violence of every kind and pursue peace and reconciliation’ and ‘to strive to safeguard the integrity of creation, and sustain and renew the life of the earth.’

In words quoted some years ago by Helen Mirren and written inside Anne Frank’s Diary, we must ‘be kind and have courage.’

One of the collects in Common Worship today prays: ‘Lord of heaven and earth, as Jesus taught his disciples to be persistent in prayer, give us patience and courage never to lose hope, but always to bring our prayers before you; through Jesus Christ our Lord.’

There is no need to fear the abyss, the pit, the nightmares we face now, 81 years after the Holocaust and Nagasaki. We are in this boat together as disciples, and Christ offers the hope he brings with calming the storm, a way out of chaos and darkness into light and peace.

‘When they got into the boat, the wind ceased’ (Matthew 14: 32) … a gondolier on the Grand Canal in Venice (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Today’s Prayers (Sunday 9 August 2026, Trinity X):

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 (9-15 August 2026, pp 28-29), is ‘Mission to the Mangyans’. This theme is introduced today with a Programme Update by the Revd Jewel B Tumaliuan, Programme Director, Iglesia Filipina Independiente (IFI):

Nanay Norma Abnay is a lay leader in the IFI Church and a member of the Mangyan, an Indigenous people of Mindoro. She lives in Panhulugan, a remote mountain village on the island of Mindoro in the Philippines.

Access to healthcare is one of the greatest challenges for the community, with travel to medical treatment often long and difficult, and river crossings becoming impossible during the rainy season.

Bishop Ronelio, who began working with Mangyan communities in 1995, adds, ‘Sometimes we cannot reach certain communities due to security threats from armed conflict. If there is an encounter, we cannot be present at the chapels, which makes gathering very difficult.’ Despite these dangers, local leaders like Nanay Norma are given training to ensure that worship and care continue, helping the community remain resilient and looked after.

She explains, ‘When we first got to know IFI, we were given a church, and we already had a good feeling about it. As a lay leader, sometimes it is difficult, especially when there are many tasks to handle. But to the best of my ability, I do everything I can to serve our community.’

By God’s grace, a network of chapels has emerged, led by lay leaders like Nanay Norma from the Indigenous communities they serve. ‘The Church has helped us a lot,’ Norma concludes, ‘especially in fostering unity and teaching us how to work together. Although we experience poverty, they are always there to help without getting tired.’

The USPG Prayer Diary today (Sunday 9 August 2026, International Day of the World’s Indigenous Peoples) invites us to pray:

Creator God, we give thanks for the Mangyan and all Indigenous peoples, for their rich cultures, wisdom, and deep relationship with the land. Thank you that you love them and know them by name.

The Collect of the Day:

Let your merciful ears, O Lord,
be open to the prayers of your humble servants;
and that they may obtain their petitions
make them to ask such things as shall please you;
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:

God of our pilgrimage,
you have willed that the gate of mercy
should stand open for those who trust in you:
look upon us with your favour
that we who follow the path of your will
may never wander from the way of life;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Additional Collect:

Lord of heaven and earth,
as Jesus taught his disciples to be persistent in prayer,
give us patience and courage never to lose hope,
but always to bring our prayers before you;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Yesterday’s reflections

Continued tomorrow

Fishing boats tied up at the Quays in Wexford (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

My 40-year nostalgic search for the Greek islands of the Odyssey, from Crete to Corfu and Ithaca

The ‘Lily Prince’ in the Minoan Palace in Knossos … Odysseus repeatedly claims he is a Cretan prince from Knossos to hide his true identity on his return to Ithaka (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Patrick Comerford

Ἀλλὰ καὶ ὧς ἐθέλω καὶ ἐέλδομαι ἤματα πάντα
οἴκαδέ τ' ἐλθέμεναι καὶ νόστιμον ἦμαρ ἰδέσθαι.
εἰ δ' αὖ τις ῥαίῃσι θεὸς ἐν οἴνοπι πόντῳ,
τλήσομαι ἐν στήθεσσιν ἔχων ἀτληθὲς θυμόν.

Nevertheless I long – I pine, all my days –
to travel home and see the dawn of my return.
And if a god will wreck me yet again on the wine-dark sea,
I can bear that too, with a spirit tempered to endure.
The Odyssey (Book 5, lines 219-222)

Two of the deepest currents of thought running through The Odyssey are ξενία (xenia), the sacred code of hospitality and reciprocal courtesy shown to travellers, strangers and outsiders and the mutual duties of hosts and guests; and νόστος (nostos), homecoming and the longing for home.

In English, the word ‘xenophobia’ is a concept that runs contrary to all the core values found in ξενία (xenia) and in φιλοξενία (philoxenia), a concept that extends far beyond mere hospitality and that remains a shared value among Greeks today.

The word nostalgia is a 17th century compound derived from Greek. It consists of νόστος (nostos), a Homeric word meaning ‘homecoming’, and ἄλγος (álgos), ‘pain’. The word was coined by a medical student to describe the anxieties shown by Swiss mercenaries fighting away from home.

Both concepts in Greek explain how welcome I have felt in Greece for almost 40 years, year after year, and how wistful I feel, longing to return, when I am not there, as though Greece, and particularly Crete, was my second home.

I imagine a spin-off from Christopher Nolan’s box-office success, The Odyssey, is going to be a boost to tourism in Greece, as people seek out locations and settings that associated with the ten-year homeward journey of Odysseus.

Odysseus took 10 years to reach his home in Ithaka after the Trojan wars … a sailing boat in the harbour in Rethymnon after sunset

The three main islands associated with Odysseus are Ithaka, where he was king and which is the home he takes ten years to find his way back to, Kephallonia and Zakynthos.

Ithaki or Ithaca is his home in the Ionian Islands and the emotional core of the entire story. Zakynthos is one of the Ionian islands named in The Odyssey as part of the island world around Odysseus’s kingdom, and neighbouring Kefalonia is often linked with Homer’s Same.

I visited these three islands over the space of two years: Ithaka in 2003, Kephallonia (‘Captain Corelli’s island’) in 2002 and 2003, and Zakynthos in 2002. But that was almost 25 years ago, long before I had a digital camera or a phone with a camera on it, and all my photographs from those trips are inaccessible or lost.

Odysseus travels from Troy to Thrace, and then through the lands of the Lotus-Eaters, Cyclopes, Aeolus and Circe on his way home to Ithaka. Although they are named in The Odyssey, he never visits some of the Dodecanese islands I know, such as Rhodes, Symi and Kos, or Cycladic islands such as Santorini (Thera), although Syros in the Cyclades is identified with Syrie, the home of Eumaeus, Odysseus’ loyal swineherd.

The ancient theatre in Epidavros is one of the most perfect ancient Greek theatres (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

But there are other places in Greece – islands and on the mainland – that are parts of the Odyssey and that may get a boost in tourism figures because of the new film. Some places in the Odyssey are legendary, the subject of conjecture or a topic for debate.

Athena guides Odysseus on his return journey to Ithaka. She is basically the story’s behind-the-scenes operator, and Athens is where her presence is felt most today. Many places in the Peloponnese are part of the narrative, including places I have visited.

Sparti (Sparta), where I stayed in the Menaleon Hotel in 1996, when I was visiting Mystras, is where the Odyssey connects back to the Iliad and the fallout from the Trojan War through Menelaus and Helen. Telemachus visits Menelaus to hear what happened to the Greek heroes after Troy, and why the fate of Odysseus remained uncertain for so long, and he arrives in Pylos to find the local people making offerings to Poseidon by the sea.

The ancient theatre in Epidavros is one of the most perfect ancient Greek theatres in terms of its design and its acoustics. Epidaurus is described in the Iliad as ‘vine-clad Epidaurus’ and contributed along with Argos, Tiryns, Troezen and Ermioni to the Argolid fleet heading to Troy.

Looking out from Preveli Monastery in Crete towards the island of Gavdos, said to be the Ogygia of Calypso where Odysseus stayed for seven years (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Crete is connected to the Odyssey primarily as a place mentioned in the epic – specifically as a fictional origin story told by Odysseus, and in historical navigation theories that link real landmarks in Crete to the journey. In Homer’s text, Odysseus repeatedly invents elaborate backstories claiming he is a Cretan prince from Knossos to hide his true identity on his return to Ithaka.

People in Crete say the small of Gavdos is the Ogygia of Calypso, where Odysseus stayed for seven years with the nymph. I have often gazed out at Gavdos from the Monastery of Preveli above the palm forest that was severely damaged by the fires that swept across the Rethymnon region last week. Eventually, Odysseus spurned the offer of eternal life from Calypso and left Ogygia for his journey home

Paleochora, to the west of Preveli and on south-west coast of Crete, has been proposed as a landing point where winds pushed Odysseus off-course toward a small distinct coastal peninsula near Libya before heading back north.

The bay at Gramvousa … the small island off north-west Crete is identified the floating island of Aeolus (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

After his adventure with Polyphemus, Odysseus continues his journey north. The historian Tim Severin and other historians convincingly identify the small island of Gramvousa off the north-west tip of Crete with the floating island of Aeolus. There, Odysseus waits for the right moment to continue his journey home.

Gramvousa is an island encircled by striking sheer cliffs that reflect a reddish-bronze hue at sunset, creating the illusion of towering bronze walls.

The ancient name for the island was ‘Korykos’, meaning ‘leather bag’. Notably, it was on the Isle of Aeolus where Odysseus used a magical leather bag.

In the ‘Blue Caves’ on the west coast of Paxos, identified with some scholars with the island of Circe (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Paxos in the Ionian islands is identified with some scholars with the island of Circe, a nature goddess. On leaving the island of Circe, he passes the small island of Antipaxos, southeast of Paxos.

After passing Antipaxos, Odysseus arrives at a spot where he has two choices: one route would take him past the dangerous Wandering Rocks, while the other would take him down a narrow channel with dangers on both sides – on one side, there was Scylla, the serpentine monster, while on the other was Charybdis, the sea monster that swallowed things like a whirlpool.

The explorer Tim Severin suggests the Ionian island of Lefkada or Levkas is the location for the Sirens, the Wandering Rocks, Scylla and Charybdis and the island of Helios’s cattle.

The main beach at Palaiokastritsa … Odysseus is said to have made his last stop there on his way home to Ithaka (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Corfu (Kerkyra), the most northerly of the Ionian Islands, is usually identified with Scheria, the land of the Phaeacians and the last destination of Odysseus in his 10-year journey home from Troy to Ithaki.

Although Corfu is not named directly, it has the kind of coastline that makes shipwreck scenes feel believable. Odysseus is washed up exhausted on the shores of Scheria, where King Alcinous and Princess Nausicaa offer hospitality to the weary hero and the Phaeacians provide him with a safe route back home to Ithaka.

Two small islets off the coast of Corfu claim links with the stories of Odysseus and shipwreck.

The Rock of Kolovri in the bay of Palaiokastritsa is said to be the petrified ship of Odysseus (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Palaiokastritsa is on the north-west coast of Corfu, about 26 km from Corfu town and airport. The Rock of Kolovri in the bay is said to be the petrified ship of Odysseus, although similar legends are associated with Pontikonisi or ‘Mouse Island’ off Kanoni, near Corfu town.

The legend says that after the Phaeacians had safely helped Odysseus on the last leg of his journey home to Ithaka, they returned to Corfu. But the sea god Poseidon, angered that the Phaeacians had helped his rival, turned their vessel into stone, creating what is now Pontikonisi.

Although this story does not appear explicitly in Homer’s text, it is one of Corfu’s most enduring myths, and Pontikonisi or ‘Mouse Island’ is one of Corfu’s most recognisable landmarks. The tiny, cypress-covered islet sits at the entrance to the Halkiopoulos Lagoon, just south of Corfu Town and under the flight path of Corfu Airport.

Another, more practical explanation for the island’s name is that, when viewed from above, its shape resembles a small mouse – so giving us the Greek name Pontikonisi (Ποντικονήσι), meaning ‘Mouse Island.’

The islet of Pontikonisi, seen behind Vlachеrnа Covent … the Church of the Transfiguration is open to visitors only on 6 August (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Pontikonisi is one of the Corfu’s most photographed attractions, ALthough access is limited. Small boats take visitors to the islet during the tourist season, allowing them to explore the chapel and enjoy its tranquil setting among towering cypress trees.

Many visitors choose instead to admire Pontikonisi from the nearby islet of Panagia Vlacherna, home to the whitewashed 17th century convent with the elegant bell tower and waterfront setting that have made it the picture postcard emblem of Corfu.

At its centre of Pontikonisi, the Byzantine Church of Christ Pantokrator dates from the 11th or 12th century. The chapel is generally closed to the public throughout the year but it opens each year on this day, 6 August, the Feast of the Transfiguration, when many people make the short boat trip to attend the annual celebration.

How many of those pilgrims today thought they were following in the path of Odysseus on his ten-year journey home from Troy to Ithaka?

The Throne Room inside the Minoan palatial complex at Knossos … Odysseus repeatedly claims he is a Cretan prince from Knossos to hide his true identity on his return to Ithaka (Photograph: Patrick Comerford

Daily prayer in Ordinary Time 2026: 88, Monday 3 August 2026

‘He made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead to the other side’ (Matthew 14: 22) … a fishing boat on the Sarawak River in Kuching (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2026)

Patrick Comerford

We are continuing in Ordinary Time in the Church Calendar and the week began with the Ninth Sunday after Trinity (Trinity IX, 2 August 2026).

Before today begins, I am taking some quiet time this morning to give thanks, 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.

Punters on the Backs and the River Cam behind King’s College, Cambridge (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2026)

Matthew 14: 22-36 (NRSVA):

22 Immediately he made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead to the other side, while he dismissed the crowds. 23 And after he had dismissed the crowds, he went up the mountain by himself to pray. When evening came, he was there alone, 24 but by this time the boat, battered by the waves, was far from the land, for the wind was against them. 25 And early in the morning he came walking towards them on the lake. 26 But when the disciples saw him walking on the lake, they were terrified, saying, ‘It is a ghost!’ And they cried out in fear. 27 But immediately Jesus spoke to them and said, ‘Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.’

28 Peter answered him, ‘Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.’ 29 He said, ‘Come.’ So Peter got out of the boat, started walking on the water, and came towards Jesus. 30 But when he noticed the strong wind, he became frightened, and beginning to sink, he cried out, ‘Lord, save me!’ 31 Jesus immediately reached out his hand and caught him, saying to him, ‘You of little faith, why did you doubt?’ 32 When they got into the boat, the wind ceased. 33 And those in the boat worshipped him, saying, ‘Truly you are the Son of God.’

34 When they had crossed over, they came to land at Gennesaret. 35 After the people of that place recognized him, they sent word throughout the region and brought all who were sick to him, 36 and begged him that they might touch even the fringe of his cloak; and all who touched it were healed.

Boats at Salter’s by Folly Bridge in Oxford (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2026)

Today’s Reflections

In last year or two, I have enjoyed being on boats in Sarawak and Singapore, barge trips on the Grand Union Canal, and watching rowers and boats in York, on the Backs in Cambridge, on the river in Oxford and in York. I even had the pleasure many years ago of one college boat club in Cambridge asking to use one of my photographs in a fundraising drive.

It is almost 60 years since I first went rowing as a teenager on Lough Ramor in Virginia. But I had long thought that I would be left regretting that I had taken up courses in Cambridge when I was too late in life to learn, or to re-learn, how to row.

I had come to enjoy rowing as a sport and an activity, but in a very passive way.

Then, shortly after I arrived in Askeaton in 2017, one evening, as I was standing at a slipway by the banks of the Rover Deel, I was invited suddenly and unexpectedly to get into a boat and to row.

I was fearless. It was a pleasure I had often hoped for and wished for. And for almost an hour, we rowed upstream, under the bridge at Askeaton, and as far as the castle, and then downstream past the factory, although not as far as the estuary. When I suggested that I might be too old to learn, or re-learn, how to row, I was told brusquely and with humour that once I stopped learning I had stopped living.

Later that same week, I watched children and teenagers hop in and out of boats, freely and fearlessly, confident of their own ability and the ability of those who were training them.

Fearlessly. But as I was messing about on boats in Crete some weeks earlier, hopping on and off them in the sun as I visited smaller islands and lagoons, I thought of how this was a pleasure that I was paying for and wondered but how many refugees were full of fear as they boarded boats in the dark trying to arrive on Greek islands, having paid exorbitantly for the risk and the dangers.

Fearlessly. What are your worst fears?

I know, at present, many of us have fears arising out of the wars between Russia and Ukraine, the wars involving the US in Iran and the Gulf, Israel in Gaza and Lebanon, and the global insecurity created by the mercurial decision-making by the Trump regime.

As we grow up and mature, we tend to have fewer fears of the outside world, and as adults we begin to cope with the fears we once had as children, by turning threats into opportunities.

The fears I had as a child – of snakes, of the wind, of storms at sea, of lightning – are no longer the stuff of recurring nightmares they were as a child. I have learned to be cautious, to be sensible and to keep my distance, and to be in awe of God’s creation.

But most of us have recurring dreams that are vivid and that have themes that keep repeating themselves. They fall into a number of genres, and most psychotherapists identify a number of these types of dreams that most of us deal with in our sleep at various stages in adult life.

They include dreams about:

• Drowning.

• Finding myself unprepared for a major function or event, whether it is social or work-related.

• Flying or floating in the air, but then falling suddenly.

• Being caught naked in public.

• Missing a train, a bus or a plane.

• Caught in loos or lifts that do not work, or that overwork themselves.

• Calling out in a crowd but failing to vocalise my scream or not being heard in the crowd or recognised.

• Falling, falling into an abyss.

There are others. But in sleep the brain can act as a filter or filing cabinet, helping us to process, deal with and put aside what we have found difficult to understand in our waking hours, or to try to find ways of dealing with our lack of confidence, feelings of inadequacy, with the ways we confuse gaining attention with receiving love, or with our needs to be accepted, affirmed and loved.

There are two choices in the lectionary for Gospel readings at the Eucharist today: Matthew 14: 13-21, or Matthew 14: 22-36. The first choice was also the Gospel reading yesterday.

In this second, alternative Gospel reading (Matthew 14: 22-36), Saint Peter’s plight seems to be a working out of a constant, recurring, vivid dream of the type that many of us experience at some stage: the feelings of drowning, floating and falling suddenly, being in a crowd and yet alone, calling out and not being heard, or not being recognised for who we are.

Peter sees Christ walking on the lake or floating effortlessly above the water. At first, he thinks he is seeing a ghost. But then Christ calls to him, and Saint Peter responds.

Once he recognises Christ, Saint Peter gets out of the boat, starts walking on the water, and comes towards Christ. But he loses his confidence when he notices the strong wind, he is frightened, and he begins to sink.

He cries out: ‘Lord, save me.’ Christ immediately reaches out his hand and catches him, saying to him, ‘You of little faith, why did you doubt?’

They get back into the boat, the wind ceases. And those in the boat worship him, saying, ‘Truly you are the Son of God.’

Was the sight of Christ walking on the water an illusion?

Was Peter’s idea that he could walk on the water the product of an over-worked mind while he was sleeping?

Did he realise he was unprepared for the great encounter?

Did the wind cease when he woke from the dream?

All of these questions are over-analytical and fail to deal with the real encounter that takes place.

Even before the Resurrection, in his frailty, in his weakness, in his humble humanity, Saint Peter calls out to Christ: ‘Lord, save me’ (verse 30).

Do the others in the boat fall down at Christ’s feet and worship him because he can walk on water? Because he can lift a drowning man out of the depths? Or because they recognise that in Christ they can find the end to all their worst dreams and nightmares?

Despite the heatwaves we have been experiencing this summer, we know too, as they say, to expect the unexpected when we are on water, whether it is a river or a canal, a lake or at sea. Everyone needs to know that the weather can turn, the waters can become choppy, and this can be a frightening experience, even on rivers, close to the river bank and close to firm land.

As seasoned boat-handlers, the Disciples know not to try walking on water. They know the risk of sudden storms and swells, and they know the safety of a good boat, as long as it has a good crew.

But since the early history of the Church, the boat has symbolised the Church.

The bark (barque or barchetta) symbolises the Church tossed on the sea of disbelief, worldliness, and persecution but finally reaching safe harbour. Part of the imagery comes from the ark saving Noah’s family during the Flood (I Peter 3: 20-21). Christ protects Peter’s boat and the Disciples on the stormy Sea of Galilee (see also Mark 6: 45-52; John 6 16-21). The mast forms the shape of the Cross.

It is an image that appears in Apostolic Constitutions and the writings of Tertullian and Clement of Alexandria. We still retain the word nave for the main part of the church, which, architecturally often looks like an up-turned boat.

So, I do would not want any of us to risk walking on water, or to play stupidly in boats on the river or on a lake, and certainly not off the coast or out to see.

But if we are to dream dreams for our parishes, for the Church, for the Kingdom of God, we need to be aware that it comes at the risk of feeling our dreams may be the nightmares of others.

If we are going to dream dreams for our parishes, for the Church, for the Kingdom of God, we may need to step out of our safety zones, our comfort zones, and know that this comes with a risk warning.

And if we are going to dream dreams for our parishes, for the Church, for the Kingdom of God, we need to keep our eyes focussed on Christ, and to know that the Church is there to bring us on that journey.

Let us dream dreams, take risks for the Kingdom of God, step outside the box. But let us keep our eyes on Christ and remember that the boat, the Church, is essential for our journey, and let us continue to worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness.

An icon of the Church as a boat, including Christ, the Apostles and the Church Fathers (Icon: Deacon Matthew Garrett, www.holy-icons.com)

Today’s Prayers (Monday 3 August 2026):

In Pray with the World Church, the prayer diary of the Anglican mission agency USPG (United Society Partners in the Gospel), the theme this week (2-8 August 2026, pp 24-25), is ‘Faith Under Pressure in Nicaragua’. This theme was introduced yesterday with a Reflection by the Most Revd Juan David Alvarado, Bishop of El Salvador and Primate of the Province of the Anglican Church in Central America.

The USPG prayer diary today (Monday 3 August 2026) invites us to pray:

Lord, strengthen your Church in Nicaragua as it faces fear and persecution. Grant courage and protection to all who continue to witness to your truth.

The Collect of the Day:

Almighty God,
who sent your Holy Spirit
to be the life and light of your Church:
open our hearts to the riches of your grace,
that we may bring forth the fruit of the Spirit
in love and joy and peace;
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:

Holy Father,
who gathered us here around the table of your Son
to share this meal with the whole household of God:
in that new world where you reveal the fullness of your peace,
gather people of every race and language
to share in the eternal banquet of Jesus Christ our Lord.

Additional Collect:

Gracious Father,
revive your Church in our day,
and make her holy, strong and faithful,
for your glory’s sake
in Jesus Christ our Lord.

Yesterday’s reflections

Continued tomorrow

Learning, or re-learning, how to row on the River Deel at Askeaton, Co Limerick

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

A walking tour of the Cambridge I know for 20 years, with its cafés, colleges, chapels, and the Cam

Walking along the backs in Cambridge this week, with views of the chapel of King’s College and the buildings of Clare College (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2026)

Patrick Comerford

I spent a day in Cambridge earlier this week, meeting a friend from Ireland who has been staying in Saint John’s College and taking a short top-up course in theology organised by the Diocese of Ely.

Cambridge is always beautiful in the sunshine, even if it is suffering under the crush of over-tourism. The weight of tourism means many colleges have signs saying they are closed to visitors, even though this is the height of the tourist season and the pressures of exams and graduations have passed.

Still, it was good to introduce my friend to the Cambridge that I have known so well for almost 20 years and still feel a part of.

We met at the train station, walked along Station Road and Hills Road back into the centre of Cambridge and stopped for a long coffee and the opportunity to catch up on old times before beginning our walk around Cambridge in earnest.

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

We had dropped into Our Lady and the English Martyrs Church, and had glimpses of Downing and Emmanuel, of Parker’s Piece and of Saint Andrew’s Baptist Church. But our first real stopping point was Christ’s College, where the castle-like gatehouse on Saint Andrew’s Street has had its vibrant colours and paintwork repainted in a project that was completed in 2018.

The statue of the college founder, Lady Margaret Beaufort, has been spruced up too, although the tourists peering into First Court were more image in the plaque with an image of Charles Darwin, a former undergraduate. I tried to explain how I once, in vain, searched for the supposed links between Darwin and the Comberford family, but recalled how it is said that even before the chapel was consecrated Lady Margaret heard Mass from a gallery now represented by a window in the south wall of the chapel, although the chapel was not formally consecrated until a year after her death.

I preached in the chapel and was a visiting lecturer in Christ’s College in 2009, and I stayed there again the following year before taking part in the summer school at Sidney Sussex College organised by the Institute for Orthodox Christian Studies.

From Christ’s College, we strolled along Petty Curry into Market Square, then along Peas Hill and into Saint Edward’s Passage to see David’s Bookshop, the most charming bookshop in England, and Saint Edward’s Church where they recently marked the 500th anniversary of the sermon by Robert Barnes at midnight mass on Christmas Eve 1525 that is said to have sparked the Reformation in England.

Inside the chapel at King’s College, Cambride (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2026)

On King’s Parade we gave the tourist shops a healthy miss and instead looked at the Senate House, Great Saint Mary’s, the University Church, and Gonville and Gaius College, turning into Senate House Passage, and passing Trinity Hall and Clare College, where I have also stayed, to visit King’s College.

There we spent some time admiring King’s Chapel, and, although it thronged with tourists there were quiet places to sit and reflect, think and pray, and to talk quietly.

We strolled through Back Lawn, filled with wild flowers and still without its summer mowing, and walked along the Backs and the banks of the Cam, crossing King’s College Bridge to enjoy views of the punters on the river – some with copious supplies of Pimm’s – and to catch a glimpse of Clare Bridge, where one of the 14 decorative stone balls is missing a neatly sliced wedge or segment.

Cambridge lore says the builder cut out the wedge in a pay dispute or to avoid taxes, but the true explanation is probably that it is a weathered repair.

The Corpus Clock, where the Grasshopper is eating up time (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2026)

We walked back through Front Court onto King’s Parade, where we watched the Corpus Clock, unveiled by Stephen Hawking, where the Chronophage or the Grasshopper clock is eating up time.

We had to step into the Eagle, where Crick and Watson announced in 1953 announced they had discovered the ‘Secret of Life’ or the double helix structure of DNA, and then visited Saint Bene’t’s Church which, for the years I was following courses with IOCS at Sidney Sussex College, was almost like a parish church for me.

We were soon back on Margaret Street, and we skipped through Market Passage with its associations with Oliver Cromwell, to see Sidney Sussex College, where lingering wisteria is still trailing over the wall onto Sidney Street. Walking through Sussex Street and the commercial developments owned by Sidney Sussex, we ended up the corner of King Street and Hobson Street, and shared stories of the ways in life we have often been confronted a ‘Hobson’s Choice’ – take it or leave it.

Bikes and cyclists at on Sidney Street at Sidney Sussex College (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2026)

A long and lengthy late lunch in King Street Brewhouse provided more opportunities to catch up on life in Ireland, England and further life, to talk about church life, teaching, theology, journalism and families, and compared notes about working visits to and time in different parts of Europe and Africa.

With Sidney Sussex to our left, we cut along Malcolm Street to Westcott House, where we compared theological education in Ireland and England, had a glimpse of All Saints’ Church, and crossed Jesus Lane to a warm welcome in Jesus College.

On Jesus Lane, we looked at the Institute for Orthodox Christian Studies and Wesley House, both now within the ambit of Jesus College, and walked on past Little Trinity, the ADC Theatre, home of the the Cambridge Footlights, whose members came to dominate British comedy in the 1970s, the 1980s, and beyond, and we peered into the former Pitt Club, now a Japanese restaurant.

Punters on the Cam below Magdalene Bridge (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2026)

We squeezed our way along Bridge Street, with the Round Church, the side of Saint John’s College and Saint Clement’s, where we turned in to picturesque Portugal Place, where returning Jews first settled in Cambridge in the 17th century. We ended up back at the Cam and Magdalene Bridge, by Magdalene College. Our time had run out, and we never even considered the offers of taking a short journey on a punt on the Cam.

Cambridge had been beautiful in this July sunshine. In the throngs of tourists, I did not see myself as a tourist or visitor, even for a moment, but felt I was back in the Cambridge I have known and that has been part of me for almost 20 years.

I had shown my friend my Cambridge and the Cambridge that John Betjeman describes as ‘The white of windy Cambridge courts, the cobbles brown and dry’, where choirs and organs join to ‘praise Eternity contained in Time and coloured glass.’ Walking back to catch a train home at the end of my Odyssey in Cambridge and feeling wistful, I could not but have another look at Sidney Sussex College and its glorious wisteria.

I should get back more often. And I should write more about those colleges, chapels and the Cam in the days to come.

A wistful look at the wisteria at Sidney Sussex before leaving Cambridge (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2026)

At sea in the Aegean 30 years ago, when tensions between Greece and Turkey raised fears of war

Peaceful afternoons on the beach near Rethymnon are seldom interrupted by sonic booms and overflights, unlike 30 years ago (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Patrick Comerford

I have been coming to Greece and to Crete in particular, for almost 40 years, since the 1980s. I remember how I felt at home the very first morning, as I was being taken by coach from Iraklion Airport to Rethymnon. Greece grew on me very quickly, and there were times when I was back and forth to Greece two or three times a year, sometimes for family holidays, sometimes for social visits, and often as a working journalist, covering Greek politics, culture, economic crisises, tensions with Turkey in the Aegean. On other trips, I was visiting monasteries and churches, including Mount Athos and Patmos, or attending lectures and seminars in Athens, Thessaloniki and on the remote and tiny island of Halki off the coast of Rhodes.

One of those busy years was 1996, when I found myself writing about Greek life and politics on a regular basis. I was reminded of this last month when friends posted about the 30th anniversary of the death of Andreas Papanddreou, a towering and heroic modern Greek leader and a key figure in bringing about the collapse of the colonels’ regime in 1974. He died on 23 June 1996, and I wrote his obituary for The Irish Times the next day.

But 1996 was a busy year for me in Greece. I wrote profiles of the new prime minister, Costas Simitis, interviewed the foreign minister, Theodoros Pangalos, followed the tensions in the Aegean over the Turkey’s agressive claims to the islets of Imia, wrote features on the poetry of Yiannis Ritos and CP Cavafy, reported on the growing clamour for the return of the Parthenon Marbles from the British Museum to Athens, and analysed Greek political support for the application by Cyprus for EU membership.

In recent years, I have been returning regularly to Rethymnon and the suburban areas to the east at Platanias and Tsesmes and even further east at Panormos. It is a relatively quiet area for holidays, with the long sandy beches stretching for miles east of Rethymnon. There is a family-friendly and laid-back atmosphere, with few if any signs offering cheap beer to lager louts, as I have seen further east in places such as Hersonissos and Malia.

It is easy to fall asleep in the afternoon at places like Pavlos Beach in Platanias, undisturbed in the sunshine. But it was not always so, and it was not so 30 years ago, back in 1996. Not because of loud lager louts, not because Crete was attracting the wrong sort of tourists, and certainly not because of bad management on anyone’s part. But because of the threat of war.

An afternoon’s snooze on the beach was regularly interrupted in the 1980s and the 1990s by the sonic booms of overflying Greek air force jets, preparing or returning from buzzing their Turkish counterparts over the blue waters of the Aegean and the Mediterranean.

It almost came to a full-scale war between Greece and Turkey 30 years ago, and all because of a dispute over who owned the two tiny uninhabited rocky islets of Imia. I was flown into the middle of it all in 1996, and ended up as a part of a press posse that was threatened with coming under fire from the Turkish navy.

The dispute back in 1996 cost the lives of three crew members of a Greek Navy helicopter who died during a mission, and 30 years later, despite improved relations between Athens and Ankara in the intervening decades, many Greeks have not forgotten this tense time in modern Greek history a generation ago.

The crisis had international leaders scrambling to urge both sides not to come to blows over what was derided as a pile of rocks. But Greece insisted they were ‘Greek rocks’m and Athens refused to back down as Ankara tried to assert Turkish sovereignty. Greeks were reminded all too easily of the Turkish invasion of Cyprus over 20 years earlier on 20 July 1974.

Windmills at the entrance to the harbour in Rhodes (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Imia is part of the Dodesanese islands, which are dripping with history and oozing with culture: Kos, where Hippocrates formulated the foundations of modern medicine; Patmos, where Saint John the Divine wrote the Book of Revelation; Kalymnos, Leros and Symi, with their neo-classical mansions; and Rhodes, where the giant Colossos once straddled the harbour of Mandhraki, holding aloft the flame of freedom that inspired the Statue of Liberty.

At the crossroads of three continents, this island chain was once ruled by Alexander the Great and Ptolemy; it has been occupied by the Romans, the Crusaders, the Venetians, the Knights of Saint John, the Turks, the Italians and Nazi Germany. Only with the end of World War II was it finally handed over by Britain and incorporated into the Greek state almost 80 years ago, in 1947.

Today, only 26 of the Dodecanese islands are inhabited: the largest, Rhodes, has about 100,000 people, but most have only a few hundred residents or less, and there are only 79 people left on Pserimos.

The large Turkish minorities in Rhodes and Kos and the mosques and minarets still dotting the skylines of many islands are ever-present reminders that Turkey occupied the Dodecanese for almost 400 years, from 1522 to 1912. Turkey is Greece’s nearest neighbour, and on many islands you can feel it is almost possible to touch the Turkish coast with its harbours and towns, houses and hotels.

On 29 December 1995, Turkey asserted the Imia islets were Turkish territory, registered in the prefecture of Bodrum. The dispute began when a Turkish cargo ship, Figen Akat ran ashore on the islets and had to be salvaged. It turned out that maps of were showing conflicting claims of the islets by Greece and Turkey, and there was a conflict between the Turkish captain and the Greek authorities over who was responsible for the salvage operation.

For more than 60 years, Turkey had accepted the maritime boundaries in the Aegean, defined by treaties and agreements with the Italians in 1923 and 1932, and ratified by the Treaty of Paris in 1947. The boundaries were never challenged by Ankara until that December. But, as Turkey faced a major political crisis with the unexpected electoral success of the Islamic Welfare Party, the Foreign Ministry in Ankara claimed for the first time that Imia was part of the Turkish province of Mugla.

The official response of Greece came on 9 January 1996. The then-Greek Foreign Minister, Theodoros Pangalos, sent a reply to Turkey claiming an indisputable Greek sovereignty over the islets. The dispute was escalated when the Mayor of the Greek island of Kalymnos and a priest landed on the islets on 26 January and raised a Greek flag on the rocky outcrop.

Tensions escalated, and on 27 January Turkish journalists from the daily Hurriyet landed on the largest of the two Imia islets, tore down the blue and white Greek flag and hoisted the red and white star and crescent of Turkey.

Four days later, Turkish troops landed on the smaller rocky outcrop. Tensions heightened as Greek, Turkish and NATO forces sailed to the islets. At dawn on 31 January, a Greek navy helicopter flying over Imia said reported that Turkish troops had landed on the islets. The helicopter then crashed in mysterious circumstances. The crash was blamed on bad weather conditions, but some reports said the weather reports amounted to a mutual cover-up to hide that it was shot down by Turkish fire.

Both Athens and Ankara were accused of concealing what really happened to prevent war. The two countries had been on the brink of war when President Clinton intervened and the Turkish troops withdrew.

The minaret of a mosque in Rhodes (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

At the time, I was the Foreign Desk Editor of The Irish Times and I found myself in the middle of this crisis. I flew to Athens to interview the new Greek Prime Minister, Costas Simitis, his Foreign Minister, Theodoros Pangalos, and other cabinet ministers. A few days later I was one among a small group of about two dozen journalists who travelled from Athens and boarded the NV Nissos in Kos Harbour, close to the Plane Tree of Hippocrates and the Mosque of Hatzi Hassan.

At the time, the NV Nissos offered day trips to Turkey on Saturdays and Sundays, leaving Kos at 9 a.m. and returning at 5 p.m. But this was to be no pleasure cruise. We were reminded of an ever-present fear of an invasion from Anatolia, 5 km across the stretch of water. The local people were talking in terms of ‘when the Turks come’, not ‘if’.

With blue skies and blue seas, it could have been an idyllic summer trip. Apart from goat herds and environmentalists, few people ever bothered to visit the more remote rocks off the coast of Kos, Kalymnos, Kalolymnos and Pserimos. The crew took down the sign reading ‘Turkey’ as we sailed off for the islets of Imia or Limnia, two flat pancakes less than two miles from Kalolymnos, almost 2½ miles from the Turkish island of Cavus, and over three miles from the western-most Turkish coast on the peninsula of Bodrum.

The Greek naval frigate HS Limnos, which had taken part in operations Desert Shield and Desert Storm, was fresh back from the Adriatic and had offered to take us out to look at the rocks. But before we left, Turkey protested formally and summoned the Greek Ambassador in Ankara, Dimitrios Nezeritis, to warn against the media trip.

It was no idle warning: two days earlier, a Greek coastguard vessel and a Turkish patrol boat had collided in Greek waters, a mile south of Imia.

As we sailed out of Kos, the military tension was palpable and visible. Greek and Turkish jets buzzed overhead sporadically, a Greek coastguard vessel and a navy ship were within sight and, in the distance, we could catch a glimpse of a ship with Turkish naval markings.

Costas Bikas, the Foreign Ministry spokesman from Athens on board the Nissos, insisted there was nothing out of the ordinary about the cruise and that it was none of Ankara’s business. But the Turks made it their business. As the Greek and Turkish jet fighters swooped low over the area, the Turkish foreign ministry took a group of foreign and local journalists out from Bodrum. Once again, there were new Turkish claims to the islets known to the Turks as Kardak – by Defence Minister Oltan Sunguklu and by naval spokesman Ali Kurunahmut, who told cruising journalists: ‘Kardak is a Turkish islet and we are in Turkish waters.’

Trailing both groups were reporters and camera crews from the Greek and Turkish press and television. The crisis had moved from territorial claims and counter claims to cruise and counter cruise for journalists in the Aegean. As Imia faded out of sight, we followed past Pserimos, Kalolymnos, Leros and Kalymnos, through the straits separating Kalymnos and Telendhos, into Pothia, the port harbour of Kalymnos – names that once tripped off the tongues of backpackers in the 1970s.

As we disembarked at the dockside in Pothia, the microphones and cameras crowded into our faces: the foreign media had become the message.

The rocky island of Kalymnos is famous for its traditional sponge fishing; its fame in the past rested on Homer’s reference in the Iliad to the ships from the ‘Kalyndian Islands’ taking part in the Trojan wars. That day, we felt war remained an ever-present threat to the peace of the islanders and their sponge fishers.

The Nissos returned to Kos to prepare for Sunday’s day trippers to Bodrum, and a launch from the Hellenic Coast Guard took us out from the harbour to the navy frigate Limnos, with its crew waiting to take us on to Rhodes. For four hours, we watched the crew tracking Turkish moves in the Aegean sea and skies, before our odyssey came to an end and Rhodes came into sight with its mediaeval castles and palaces, mosques and minarets and three harbours.

Two deer stand at each end of Mandhrki where the Colossos once straddled the entrance to the harbour, with ships passing through its towering legs. A small tug, the Herakles, took us ashore, reminding us of the apt inscription that once graced Colossus, praising the lovely gift of unlettered freedom. ‘For to those who spring from the race of Herakles, dominion is a heritage both on land and sea.’

The crisis was a temporary boost at home to Turkey’s Tansu Ciller as she searched (in vain) for a coalition partner to keep her in power. But it threatened to bring down Costas Simitis, Theodoros Pangalos and their Pasok government in Athens in 1996. Both sides agreed to withdraw their forces from the area around Imia and return to the status quo ante, although Ms Ciller continued to press Turkey’s claims to 3,000 Aegean islands – the sum total of all islands in Greek waters.

After intense pressure from the US, Greek and Turkish government removed their military forces from Imia. The territorial issue has remained unresolved since then. Imia and other islets in the Aegean are considered as ‘grey zones’ of undetermined sovereignty by Turkey.

When I returned to Crete a few weeks later for a family holiday in Piskopiano, my interviews with the Greek media and my appearances on Greek television became a topic of conversation over lunch with Greek friends on the island. Overhead, the sonic booms of fighter jets continued to break the peace of afternoon naps by the pool or on the beach.

When I returned a second time from Greece, The Irish Times published a major feature on my adventures on this day 30 years ago, 6 July 1996. I think the headline ‘Dropping Ankara in Rhodes,’ with its intended pun, was written by the then Design Editor, Andy Barclay.

The casual freedom of land and sea, to hop from one island to the next, is part of the lure of a holiday in the sun in many parts of Greece. But it is a freedom that comes with a price, a freedom that is valued by the local Greeks, and a freedom that is denied 30 years later to many refugees who come in search of it as they make the difficult passage from the coast of Turkey to the islands of the Dodecanese.

Greek and Turkish flags flying on a passenger ferry plying the Aegean between Greek islands and the Turkish coast (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)