Romanian Pilgrimage: In the Footsteps of the Saints (I) — Iași, Saint Stephen the Great, Saint Arsenios, and Saint Paisios

“Kali Panagia”, Καλή Παναγιά!, is a traditional Greek seasonal greeting meaning “Blessed Panagia” or “May you reach the feast of the Panagia in good health,” used in the days leading up to August 15. My love and poor prayers for all of you, and forgive the belated post.

Our pilgrimage began in Iași, where we were invited to participate in the celebrations of Saint Stephen the Great together with the fathers of the Holy Monastery of Saint Arsenios the Cappadocian. Their moving presentations on Saint Paisios the Athonite and Saint Arsenios the Cappadocian—both of whom they had personally known—gave a special spiritual character to the opening of our journey.

On this occasion, the holy relic of Saint Arsenios the Cappadocian was brought to Iași for the veneration of the faithful, while our pilgrimage also extended to the surrounding regions of Suceava, Putna and other places closely associated with the rich spiritual heritage of Moldavia.

The former abbot of the Holy Monastery of Saint Arsenios the Cappadocian, Elder Theoklitos, together with the present abbot, Elder Synesios, had been invited to Romania to participate in the celebrations of Saint Stephen the Great (Voivode), whose feast is celebrated on 2 July.

The centre of the festivities was the Holy Church of Saint Stephen the Great (Voivode) in Iași, where the Fathers took part in the festal services and the parish’s patronal celebration. At the conclusion of Great Vespers, the precious relic of Saint Arsenios the Cappadocian was solemnly brought forth for the veneration of the faithful, who gathered in great numbers to receive his blessing.

On the following afternoon, Elder Theoklitos and Elder Synesios again participated in the celebrations, which included Byzantine hymns and a joint address devoted to Saint Paisios the Athonite and Saint Arsenios the Cappadocian. Drawing upon their own personal acquaintance with Saint Paisios, they offered moving recollections of the Elder and spoke about the unique spiritual relationship between these two beloved Cappadocian saints.

The Holy Church of Saint Stephen the Great (Voivode)

The church hosting the celebrations is dedicated to Saint Stephen the Great, the most renowned ruler of medieval Moldavia and one of the greatest saints of the Romanian Orthodox Church.

According to the Chronicles of the Land of Moldavia written by Grigore Ureche, Stephen was already honoured as a saint immediately after his repose on 2 July 1504. The chronicler simply records:

“After his death, until today, he is remembered as Holy Voivode Stephen.”

This spontaneous veneration reflected the life he had lived. Throughout his reign, Stephen regarded the defence of his homeland and of the Orthodox faith as a sacred vocation. He declared that he would rather “taste death a hundred thousand times” than surrender Moldavia to its enemies.

For almost half a century he stood as one of the principal defenders of Christian Europe against Ottoman expansion. Before the great Battle of Vaslui in 1475, he wrote:

“With all the power given to us by Almighty God, we are always ready, with all our strength and with all the zeal of our hearts, to fight for Christianity.”

His victories earned him the admiration of rulers and chroniclers throughout Europe. Venetian diplomat Matteo Muriano praised his wisdom, justice and generosity, while the Polish historian Jan Długosz considered him the most worthy Christian prince of his age. Even Pope Sixtus IV commended his defence of Christendom against the Ottoman advance.

Yet Stephen himself attributed every victory not to military skill but to the grace of God. Following his famous victory at Vaslui, he ordered that no one should praise him, but only God, and according to Jan Długosz he observed a forty-day fast of bread and water in thanksgiving.

The Holy Cross remained the guiding sign of his entire reign. Churches, monasteries and stone crosses were raised in gratitude after victories, and many of the churches he founded were dedicated on the Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross. Above all, he believed that prayer was the true foundation of a nation’s strength.

His greatest legacy is therefore not only the victories he won on the battlefield, but the remarkable network of monasteries and churches he built throughout Moldavia. More than five centuries later, these holy places continue to draw countless pilgrims who find in Saint Stephen not merely a national hero, but a ruler whose courage was inseparable from humility, repentance and unwavering faith in Christ.

May Saint Stephen the Great and Saint Arsenios the Cappadocian intercede for all who seek to defend the Orthodox faith—not only through courage in times of trial, but through a life of prayer, humility and steadfast trust in God.

The Soul at the Threshold

A few days spent in the company of an elderly relative living with dementia became an unexpected invitation to contemplation.

“An aged man in but a paltry thing” indeed (W. B. Yeats, “Sailing to Byzantium”). “

“The brain — is wider than the Sky … deeper than the sea … just the weight of God…” (Cf. Emily Dickinson).

What a beautiful perception of disconnection, especially when old age is combined with dementia and psychiatric disorders. The senses still perceive something even if they do not connect…

“O, let me not be mad, not mad, sweet heaven! Keep me in temper; I would not be mad!” (King Lear’s prayer before his descent into madness, Act I, Scene 5)

Two paintings, a piece of music, and a prayer accompanied that journey.


Vincent van Gogh
–
At Eternity’s Gate
(1890)

*

Caspar David Friedrich – Abbey in the Oakwood

Come, O true Light.”
— St Symeon the New Theologian

“… Come to us, who lie in hell,

… Come, you who have lusted and lust

my suffering soul

come, you alone

to me alone

because, as you see

I’m alone!…

Come, you who set me apart from everything

and you made me unique on earth…”

Only afterwards did I realise that those few days had become an unexpected continuation of “The Talk That Prepared Me”. It is one thing to speak about courage in the presence of suffering; it is another to discover whether one can quietly remain beneath the Cross.

Beyond the Cross, the path continues.

(*) Robert Schumann’s Geistervariationen (“Ghost Variations”) was the last work he completed. He composed it in February 1854, shortly before his suicide attempt and subsequent admission to a psychiatric asylum, where he spent the final years of his life.

The Talk That Prepared Me

Yesterday I gave a talk.

The title had already been chosen for me: “Courage in Conflict: Saint Mary Magdalene the Myrrh-Bearer and Equal to the Apostles, and the Righteous Martyr Maria Skobtsova.” Their memory fell this week on this Monday 20/7 and this Wednesday 22/7 in the Antiochian calendar.

At first, I approached the task as I usually do. I gathered books, reread familiar passages, arranged notes and searched for a thread that might hold everything together. It seemed like another talk to prepare.

It was not.

The longer I lived with these two women, the less I found myself able to speak about them. Instead, I found myself becoming quietly unsettled by them.

Mary Magdalene remained beneath the Cross. (Matthew 27:55–56, Mark 15:40–41, and John 19:25)

How many times have I read those words without really stopping there?

Mary could not change anything. She could not shorten Christ’s suffering by a single moment. She simply remained.

Then, “while it was still dark” (John 20:1), she returned once more to the tomb, only to hear the risen Lord speak her name.

“Mary.” (John 20:16)

And then those mysterious words:

“Do not cling to Me.” (John 20:17)

For reasons I cannot fully explain, I found myself lingering there…

A few pages later I was walking the streets of occupied Paris with Mother Maria.

There was another darkness.

Another kind of Cross.

Another way of remaining.

A knock at the door.

Another frightened face.

Another meal.

Another act of mercy that no one would remember.

Someone once asked her whether she was afraid.

“I am afraid… but one must do what love requires.”

I had read that sentence many times.

This time I could not read past it.

Somewhere during this week I realised that I had been measuring courage far too easily.

It is one thing to admire the faithfulness of the saints.

It is another to recognise how little I know of such love in the ordinary circumstances of my own life.

Most likely I shall never stand beneath a literal Cross or walk voluntarily into a concentration camp.

Yet hidden Calvaries are closer than we imagine.

They lie behind the doors of ordinary homes, where love quietly bears what cannot easily be changed; where a husband or wife chooses patience once more; where parents continue to hope for a child who seems to have lost the way; where sons and daughters care faithfully for ageing parents; where forgiveness is offered again before yesterday’s wounds have fully healed.

As I was contemplating all this, another question slowly emerged.

What about my own hidden Calvary?

Not the heroic one I shall probably never be asked to carry.

The ordinary one.

The conversation that requires patience one more time.

The disappointment that asks not to become bitterness.

The neighbour who is difficult to love.

The quiet sacrifice that no one notices except God.

Then, this haunting question which He still asks His disciples throughout the centuries .

“Will you remain?”

Will I remain? …

If I do…I shall find Him exactly where Mary Magdalene and Mother Maria found Him. Waiting for me! For all of us.

I realised that I had spent years admiring extraordinary acts of courage while often overlooking the countless opportunities for faithfulness hidden within an ordinary day.

Now I have begun to understand that courage is not only found in great moments.

It is found in remaining.

Remaining beside a Cross.

Remaining beside another person’s suffering.

Remaining faithful when nothing seems to change.

Remaining with Christ when He appears absent.

Remaining with another human being when every instinct whispers that it would be easier to walk away.

Perhaps this is why Mary Magdalene and Mother Maria began to dwell together in my nous.

Not because their lives resembled one another.

They did not.

One stood in a garden outside Jerusalem.

The other walked the streets of occupied Paris.

Yet both discovered that love does not retreat before fear.

Both remained.

The more I reflected on them, the more another question quietly followed me.

Mary Magdalene recognised the risen Lord when He spoke her name.

Mother Maria recognised Him in every suffering face.

Most people saw strangers.

She saw Christ.

Most people saw danger.

She saw Christ.

Most people saw burdens.

She saw Christ.

I found myself wondering how often Christ has stood before me unnoticed because I was looking for someone more extraordinary.

One of my spiritual father’s sayings has come to my mind many times since giving the talk:

“Courage is the necessary ancillary of all the virtues.”

The older I become, the truer those words seem.

Without courage, forgiveness remains only an intention.

Without courage, patience soon gives way.

Without courage, generosity stays safely within the imagination.

Every virtue eventually asks us to give something of ourselves.

Perhaps that is why courage matters so much.

Not because it makes heroes of us.

But because it allows love to become real.

…

The talk has now been given.

The questions afterwards have ended.

Life has returned to its familiar rhythm.

What has remained are two women.

I cannot help wondering whether their quiet proximity in the Antiochian calendar has something to teach me.

Not because their lives were similar.

But because each, in her own way, refused to let love retreat before fear.

Long after we have finished speaking about the saints, they continue, patiently and almost imperceptibly, to speak about us.

…

I thought I had been asked to prepare a talk.

Instead, the talk prepared me.

The talk is over.

Its questions are not.

In the Footsteps of Saint Paisios: A Pilgrimage through Konitsa, Samarina and Metsovo

Pilgrimage and Nature Excursion

In Honour of Saint Paisios

Konitsa, Samarina and Metsovo

9–11 July 2026

On the occasion of the three-day celebrations in honour of our beloved Saint Paisios, we undertook a pilgrimage to Konitsa and the surrounding region, combining prayer and worship with the beauty of the mountains, rivers and historic villages of Epirus and Western Macedonia.

Day One

Samarina and Konitsa

Our pilgrimage began with a visit to Samarina in the region of Grevena, one of the most beautiful mountain villages of the Pindus and one of the best-known historic Vlach villages.

There, we visited the Church of the Nativity of the Theotokos, commonly known as the “Great Panagia,” and venerated the grace-filled presence of the Mother of God.

Reconstructed in 1819, the imposing church stands at the heart of the village. It is renowned for its magnificent carved wooden iconostasis, its remarkable frescoes painted by local iconographers, and the centuries-old pine tree that rises through the roof of the sanctuary.

The church celebrates its feast on 15 August, when Samarina welcomes the great annual gathering of the Vlachs in a vibrant atmosphere of faith, tradition and communal joy.

Interior of the Church of the Great Panagia in Samarina

Samarina

The family home of Saint Paisios and a Supplicatory Service in his honour

*

In the afternoon, we travelled to Konitsa and visited the family home of Saint Paisios. There, a Supplicatory Service was celebrated in his honour, in the very place associated with his childhood and early years.

Later that afternoon, we made our way to the Chapel of Saint Barbara, where Saint Paisios experienced a divine manifestation. In the quiet and prayerful atmosphere of the chapel, we celebrated Compline.

Chapel of Saint Barbara in Konitsa

Compline at the Chapel of Saint Barbara



*

Day Two

The Pilgrimage to the Monastery of Stomio

The walk to the Monastery of Stomio

The scenery is dramatic! The Monastery of Stomio is dwarfed by the vast Aoos Gorge. The Aoos River winds between the mountains. Look at the narrow, steep-sided gorge with its turquoise waters, and in another season, the gorge in autumn, with dramatic light, cliffs, and layered mountain peaks.

Before dawn, we departed from the historic arched bridge of Konitsa and began the five-kilometre walk to the Holy Monastery of the Nativity of the Theotokos at Stomio.

The path followed the course of the Aoos River through a landscape of exceptional natural beauty. The stillness of the early morning, the sound of the river and the surrounding mountains gave the journey the character of a true pilgrimage.

At the end of the path, we reached the monastery where Saint Paisios lived in asceticism for four years. During his time there, he laboured tirelessly to restore the monastery, which had been extensively damaged after being burned by German forces during the war.

At Stomio, we celebrated the Divine Liturgy and venerated the Saint’s humble cell, the newly built church dedicated to him, and the grave of the former abbot, Fr Kosmas.

After the traditional monastic hospitality, the new abbot of the monastery, Fr Maximos, spoke to us about Saint Paisios, his life at Stomio and the spiritual legacy he left behind.

In the afternoon, we visited the Holy Monastery of Saint Kosmas of Aetolia, where we venerated the holy relics preserved there, including the relics of Saint John of Konitsa.

That evening, we attended the presentation of the documentary Light of Cappadocia at Konitsa Town Hall. The event took place in the presence of His Eminence Metropolitan Alexios of Dryinoupolis, Pogoniani and Konitsa.

Holy Monastery of the Nativity of the Theotokos at Stomio

The Cell of Saint Paisios and the Church of Saint Paisios

The Holy Monastery of Saint Kosmas of Aetolia and the presentation of the documentary Light of Cappadocia at Konitsa Town Hall

*

Day Three

Molyvdoskepastos and Metsovo

The Holy Byzantine Monastery of Molyvdoskepastos

Veneration of the Miraculous Icon of Panagia Pogonianitissa

On Saturday morning, we attended the Divine Liturgy at the historic Byzantine Monastery of Molyvdoskepastos.

Dedicated to the Dormition of the Theotokos, the monastery stands in a place of striking beauty, only four hundred metres from the Greek–Albanian border, near the confluence of the Aoos and Sarantaporos rivers.

There, we venerated the miraculous icon of Panagia Pogonianitissa and prayed before the sacred treasures of this ancient monastery.

In the courtyard, behind the sanctuary, lies the tomb of Metropolitan Sevastianos, the renowned hierarch and tireless defender of Orthodoxy and Hellenism. Nearby is the tomb of the former abbot, Fr Theodoros, where we offered a Trisagion memorial service for the repose of his soul.

After receiving the traditional monastic hospitality, we departed for Metsovo, the beautiful fir-covered Vlach town of the Pindus.

There, surrounded by the beauty of the mountains and the distinctive character of the town, we shared a final meal before beginning our return journey.

The Holy Byzantine Monastery of Molyvdoskepastos, where we venerated the miraculous icon of Panagia Pogonianitissa.

Thus concluded three days filled with prayer, spiritual blessing, fellowship and the beauty of God’s creation.

May Saint Paisios intercede for us and help us all!

The Joyous Pustinik Comes Back — Day 4, Part 2

Friday the 12th, part 2. Panorama monastery is very beautiful. Set up in the hills above Thessaloniki, one can see the bay. Indeed, we can see over to the place (1) where St. Paisios rests. We venerated Elder Symeon’s tomb (2).

We had two hours of great wisdom. Followed by the blessing from the Hegumenos I. Our discussions were focused on the teachings of St. Simeon the New Theologian, sharing mystical experiences centred on humility.

The teachings of St. Simeon the New Theologian draw heavily from the Desert Fathers. Direct experience of God is something to which all Christians should aim and indeed aspire. The teachings which I read many years ago from St. Symeon the Theologian came flooding back, and the discussion made me want to revisit the books which were formative in my embrace of Orthodoxy. Indeed, the power of the Holy Spirit to change lives is real, and to change individuals, to transform them, and to transform situations in which we find ourselves sometimes feeling rather hopeless.

A theme which, at this time, post-Pentecost days, has been realised in many churches where young people are beginning to return to the church. There is a revival of hope.

The conversation echoed a previous thought about the need for solitude of one‘s self within that space where God exists. If one wants to become a channel of divine grace to others, but this is God’s grace. It is nothing to do with ourselves. It is not ours.

We are nothing, but God makes us something. It’s simply a yes to God in all circumstances. St. Simeon the Theologian emphasises the need to listen to the advice of your spiritual father.

The priest Lev Gillet, in his book, called Encounter at the Well, discusses the situation that our Lord found himself in with a Samaritan woman. Christ, wearied by his journey, asks for some water at Jacob’s well. The martyr St. Philoumenos, who was a priest at the well, was with us in the evening in the form of little prayer cards, those magnetic ones which you attach to your fridges, which we had received earlier in the week from a priest.

We were able to give these to the children. The T family came to greet us, to share their love amongst us, to take a blessing and to sing for us. It was like refreshing water on a hot day.

We Christians thirst for God, and we receive him in fellowship, amongst others who are like-minded. He gives abundantly of His life and of His life-giving spring. The evening concluded with a late meal with M, E, G or J, depending on what you wanted to call him, and A. It was a joyous conclusion to a day of deep discussion, shared experiences, and surprising connections that we made.

Although we should not be surprised by those connections, since we have the same Lord, we have the same Christ, and because in His great love and humility for us, He calls us His friends. Amen.

*

(1) Souroti, the Monastery of St. John the Theologian.

(2) Elder Symeon Kragiopoulos tomb in the monastery. I have posted in the past about this holy elder I had the privilege to meet in my life. I owe him so much! https://orthodoxcityhermit.com/2017/10/01/his-eyes-a-flame-of-fire/

About his life and teachings, visit https://pemptousia.com/2016/07/a-man-of-god-father-symeon-krayiopoulos/

https://pemptousia.com/2016/07/the-silent-assemblies-of-father-symeon-krayopoulos/

https://pemptousia.com/2016/07/father-symeon-a-servant-of-the-holy-mystery-of-confession/

https://pemptousia.com/2016/07/the-center-of-theology-of-father-symeon-krayiopoulos/

https://pemptousia.com/2016/07/father-symeon-he-never-advertised-never-proselytized/

https://pemptousia.com/2016/08/father-symeon-krayopoulos-are-you-afraid-of-death/

The Joyous Pustinik Comes Back — Day 3, Part 2

Thursday the 11th, Part 2. In the evening, we met with M at the restaurant. It was a joyful meal together with discussions about the Church and about Christ and His love. This brought us together in fellowship.

And, of course, we must all do the work of Christ whilst it is still day. Or, as Father Seraphim Rose said: “Hasten to do the will of God, it is later than you think.”

The little monastery that we visited in the morning still conjured dreams in our souls. Of Paradise.

As Abba Isaiah of Sketis says to his monks, those who are beginning their journey must cultivate the soil. And indeed we are to labour in the vineyard.

Saint Ephraim the Syrian writes in Hymns of Paradise, number 5, verse 15:

“Have pity on me,

O Lord of Paradise,

and if it is not possible for me

to enter your Paradise,

allow me to pasture

outside, by its enclosure:

Within is the table of the diligent.

But let the fruits of its enclosure

drop like crumbs outside*,

so that through your grace

sinners may live.

Amen.

*Matthew 15:27; Mark 7:28

The Joyous Pustinik Comes Back — Day 3, Part 1

Thursday the 11th of June, the Feast of St. Luke Symferoupol and the revelation of Axion Estin by the angel Gabriel. 

The journey to St. Kyriaki monastery was quite eventful. St. Kyriaki monastery is where a number of our Antiochian nuns found themselves.

At one point in the journey, engrossed as we were, in deep conversation and with the Paraklesis of St. Luke Symferoupol providing the background ison to our talk, we took a wrong road. My fault, I’m afraid, as I was the co-pilot, supposed to be directing the way.

The sign Local Road did not really do justice to the rather barely marked track that we found ourselves on in this huge field. However, Sat Nav came to the rescue and revealed to us the way that we should go. We needed a U-turn.

U-turns can be life-saving in a religious and a spiritual point of view, from sin and death and the roads which lead to destruction, to the way that leads to Paradise. 

A reliable source told me how beautiful this place was, and indeed there was no hyperbole from that source. 

This beautiful monastery, which is really a hidden gem amidst the beautiful countryside, reminded me of the Hymns of Resurrection from St. Ephraim, also a Syrian.

In his Hymn to the Resurrection, chapter 15, verse 10, he writes this: 

“Let us summon and invite the saints, 

the martyrs, apostles and prophets, 

whose own blossoms and flowers 

shine out like themselves –

such a wealth of roses they have, 

so fragrant are their lilies:

from the Garden of Delights do they pluck them, 

and they bring back fair bunches 

to crown our beautiful feast. 

O praise to You from the saints who are blessed.” 

Sister T told us how the nuns came to be there, and it reminded me of another verse from St. Ephraim the Syrian, verse 12, in the same poem:

“Receive our offering, O our King, 

and in return grant us salvation;

give peace to the land that has been devastated,

rebuild the churches that were burned, 

so that when deep peace has returned, 

we may plait you a great wreath, 

with flowers and people to plait it,

coming in from all sides

so that the Lord of Peace may be crowned. 

Blessed is He who has acted and is able to act.”

*

For those of you who missed it, the story of the Sisters of War and St. Kyriaki monastery in Veria can be read here

The Joyous Pustinik Comes Back — Day 4, Part 1

Friday the 12th of June, a morning of quiet and hesychia, praying for people and reflecting on the grace of God in St. Porphyrius’ flat. Prayer and quiet provide the nourishment for our souls. We need courage to do the will of God, not just to say “Thy will be done” and leave it there.

The dynamic of the Holy Spirit is real, and if there is no movement, then there must be a threshold of tolerance, of patience, if you like, within that stagnant state. Courage is not simply one of the virtues, but the form of every virtue at the testing point, the point of the highest reality. Pilate was merciful until it became risky, as C.S. Lewis points out in the Screwtape Letters.

Quiet, hesychia, is the groundwork which prepares us for the spiritual battle in the day, each day, every day. We live in a world of computers, artificial intelligence, and not real wisdom. We live in a world of war and conflict, of ideological differences, of confusion, even about identity and gender.

We, Christians need to step aside, because the word holy in Hebrew means to be separated, “kadosh”, to be set apart. We are set apart not because we are holy, but because we are called to be holy, called to steep ourselves in that atmosphere of peace, of serenity, of confidence in Christ, the one who calls us to follow Him, who is indeed the Prince of Peace, and He calls us in order for us to become, in turn, fishers of men.

Hieromonk Seraphim Rose writes, modern men have faith in machines, in material well-being, in the substantiality of all that seems obvious to common sense. This is a petty faith, the faith of petty men. The Christian has faith in God and in the world to come. Indeed, in the insubstantiality of all that is obvious, in the passing of this world and the coming of the new transfigured world, if there is a faith worthy of men, it is surely this.

I would not wish to add to the words of Hieromonk Seraphim Rose, but just to reflect that even common sense seems to be missing in this present age. May the Lord grant us quiet, may He grant us His peace, in order to do His will. Amen.

*

Hesychia: The Sacred Stillness. In sacred silence, the faithful becomes flame, still yet alive, consumed by divine presence.

*

Abba Lot went to see Abba Joseph and laid out his daily spiritual routine. He asked, “Abba, as far as I can, I say my little office, I fast a little, I pray and meditate, I live in peace, and as far as I can, I purify my thoughts. What else can I do?”

In response, Abba Joseph stood up and stretched his hands toward heaven. His fingers became like ten lamps of fire, and he replied, “If you will, you can become all flame” (The sayings of the Desert Fathers)

The Nuns from Syria to Veria

“Dedication to Christ is the joy of life,” Mother Maria will answer me, instantly solving the questions about the smiling faces of the women in their cassocks. The thriving convent she now runs once languished with only two very old nuns.

The Sisters found refuge from the war in Syria. An old bond brought them here

I had heard a lot, but I couldn’t separate the legend from the truth. I had to wander the plain of Veria. To forget myself for a while in the blooming peach trees – the ones that filled Instagram at the end of March – to pass, full of curiosity, the heavy iron door of the Monastery of Agia Kyriaki. And to face the truth in the bright faces of women of all ages.

In the monastery’s mansion, Arabic coffee awaited me with treats from Aleppo. Yes, from Syria. The nuns pronounce Greek with small – I would say charming – grammatical errors that testify that their mother tongue is different.

Gerasimi is a graduate of Fine Arts. She elaborately decorates the candles for the Resurrection – their sale is a significant source of income for the small monastery.

“God’s Will”

The war in Syria brought here, to Loutro Imathias, an entire sisterhood of nuns from Aleppo. Aleppo, which was also called Veria during the Byzantine Empire. Luck, fate or divine providence?

For my interlocutors, everything is “God’s will”. And one name is constantly on their lips: Paul! The missing Metropolitan of Aleppo.

On Holy Monday 2013, Paul of Aleppo, returning to Syria from Alexandretta in Turkey, decided to go to a village to try to free locals for whom the rebels were demanding ransom. He was accompanied by the Jacobite bishop Yuhanna.

On the way, the two hierarchs were ambushed. Their driver was murdered and they were kidnapped. Everyone then thought that the kidnapping was the work of ISIS jihadists. The State Department rewarded the kidnappers with 5 million dollars. After all, Paul was the fleshly brother of the Patriarch of Antioch and All the East John.Thirteen years since then, the fate of the two archpriests continues to be unknown. But back to the Monastery of Agia Kyriaki, Pavlos is so “present” in all the stories!

“Missing Father” – “He encouraged me to go to the School of Fine Arts.” “He wanted us to study first and then become a nun.” “He showed me the way to iconography.” “He insisted that we learn Greek, the language of the Fathers.” This is what the sisters say of Metropolitan Pavlos of Aleppo, whose fate has been unknown since 2013, when he was kidnapped.

Emiliani and Iliani were taught the art of needlework in Ormylia, the women’s monastery of Simonopetra. Monks from Simonopetra on Mount Athos are still their spiritual leaders today. 

Ten were the first nuns – from the Monastery of the Annunciation of the Theotokos in Aleppo – who found refuge here. “Like Noah who landed his sea-swept ark on Ararat,” I will hear one evening.

All from families of old Romans, that is, citizens of the Byzantine Empire who gradually became Arabic-speaking.

Most from the Valley of the Christians, a natural valley, as large as Kos, near the border with Lebanon.

Philothei rings the monastery bells. For centuries, events in monasteries have been announced by rhythmic metal or wooden sounds that lead the brotherhoods to the Katholicon, a chapel, or the refectory.

Every time they went to distribute medicine and food, the locals would exclaim: “For the sake of Deir el Bisara” – “the nuns of the Annunciation are coming!”

A liturgy in two languages ​​– The Arabic psalms, in the monastery church, are “married” with invocations in Greek: “Lord of Hosts, have mercy on us”. With pilgrims from Alexandria and Veria recognising the same prayer in different words and rejoicing.

But how did the nuns of war find their way to the humble and then unknown Agia Kyriaki?

The current Metropolitan of Veria Panteleimon, in the early 1990s, served as a hieromonk in Thessaloniki. And he had the Syrian Pavlos as his deacon. A graduate of the famous Theological Seminary of Balamand and the Polytechnic University of Latakia – who was then completing his doctorate in theology, while also studying Byzantine music. Paul then became a monk on Mount Athos, where he studied iconography under the most famous iconographers of Athos.

Sister Nikodimi studied Dentistry in Syria. In Greece, she obtained a master’s degree in psychological support for children with cancer and chronic diseases.

Over the years, the hieromonk became the metropolitan of Veria and the deacon the metropolitan of Aleppo. And during the war, he asked his counterpart in Veria for shelter for his spiritual daughters.

One of the photographs of the Metropolitan of Aleppo before his kidnapping in Syria 

The Sisterhood

Thirteen years since then, the sisterhood has thrived and now numbers twenty nuns and four novices.

Hieronymi shows the fruits from the sisterhood orchard to Stavros Theodorakis. The monastery’s “development” plan is to create new cells for the nuns and an orchard with fruit trees and gardens with medicinal herbs. Apple, apricot, and cherry trees have already been planted, and once the cold weather passes, sage, verbena, rosemary, and oregano will follow, on terraces.

And at my Lenten table they serve makhlouta* with red lentils, cumin, and vegetables from the sisterhood’s vegetable garden.

Next to me, the reader, standing, commemorates Pavlos in the present tense.

As if he is absent for a while and they are waiting for him to return.

* Makhlouta means “mix” in Arabic, and that’s exactly what this soup is: a mix of beans and grains, simmered slowly.

Translated from Kathimerini

Photos by Olympia Krasagaki — Text/ Interviews by Stavros Theodorakis — 06.04.2026

The story of the Sisters of War was broadcast by “Protagonists” on Holy Wednesday evening 2026 and can be watched on YouTube here with Arabic and Greek subtitles: Πρωταγωνιστές | Βέροια – Ιερά Μονή Αγίας Κυριακής Λουτρού – 08/04/2026

The Joyous Pustinik Comes Back — Day 2, Part 2

Wednesday 10th, Part 2. 

Even though it is is 31C, it is raining. One of our friends said, “you have brought the rain with you from Manchester.” Indeed, but I drank from the fountain of Christ’s Mercy.

St Efraim the Syrian writes: 

“Thanksgiving be to Him who caused a stream to flow forth 

in the mouths that had been closed,

so that they might give praise without end, through the Son, 

to the worshipful Father.”

Nisiben hymns 69

The evening was spent in conversation with Sister A and S at C’s house. The conversation was pastoral in nature, and the conversation revolved around the vicissitudes of life that we all suffer. Set within that larger framework of God’s divine plan.

It is a blessing to share one another’s burdens and to focus on our faith, our common heritage, within a world which often has taken the wrong direction and that is searching for answers. St Paul, in his letter to the Galatians in chapter 6 v. 2, writes, “Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ.” So, in acceptance of these words, we were indeed bearing one another’s burdens, and in so doing, fulfilling that law of Christ, to love God and to love one’s neighbour.

St Porphyrios says, “Christ is everything.” So, we should not add or subtract anything to our Christian faith, since, by adding, we compromise, and by subtracting, we fall short of that perfection which God calls us to. C.S. Lewis calls this “Mere Christianity.” To Wormwood, his nephew, in the Screwtape Letters, he says, what we must do is to keep them in the state of mind I call ‘Christianity and …’, you know, ‘Christianity and Crisis’, ‘Christianity and the New Psychology’, ‘Christianity and the New Order.’” To add to that, perhaps ‘Christianity and Politics.’

The horror of the same old thing is one of the most valuable passions we have produced in the human heart. It creates an endless source of heresies. Pure Christianity, with nothing added and nothing taken away, we find in the monasteries.

C.S. Lewis writes again: “just as we pick out and exaggerate the pleasure of eating to produce gluttony, so we pick out the natural pleasantness of change and twist it into a demand for absolute novelty.” 

Original, authentic and unadulterated Christianity does not need nor seek approval of the world, or indeed embrace its passing fads and fashions and fantasies. It remains steadfast to apostolic order, to true doctrine and to the living tradition.

Any movement that is required is impelled by the action of the All-Holy Spirit. Amen.