If I believed in purgatory (which I don’t) I think airports come close to the image. Souls coming and going, carrying their baggage, waiting and hoping for a better state of being somewhere else.

The final checks completed, the aeroplane takes off to another place and time, two hours ahead. After a short while, we seem not to be moving in the air but we are being moved all the same at some considerable pace; rather like life in the Holy Spirit. The clouds disappear as we leave Manchester and the beautiful patchwork of fields open up below like Joseph’s coat of many colours or a court jesters costume displaying the truth of God’s abundant creative power and mocking the insanity of war on His sovereign soil.

Arriving in Cyprus my phone goes to roaming mode as I switch to my faltering spoken greek.

The taxi driver is quite silent which whilst strangely surprising is also a relief. 

I have a most beautiful room overlooking the harbour, the serenity broken incrementally by the increasing noise from families in cafés, rather like refreshments after the Holy Liturgy. 

Off to St Lazarus church to pray for the faithful. Prayer in a holy place intensifies the memory and promotes good thoughts. Meanwhile, two Russian ladies with heads respectfully covered seek a blessing from me which the unworthy one duly gives. We exchange icon cards. The saints like to be shared amongst the faithful it seems!

Love and prayers

Abouna