Panagia Prousiotissa — A Pilgrimage in Four Parts
Part II: The Miraculous Journey of the Icon
In the first part of our pilgrimage to Panagia Prousiotissa, we arrived before dawn, while Matins was already being celebrated, and stood before the miraculous icon of the Mother of God throughout the Divine Liturgy.
But how did this sacred icon come to rest in such a remote place, among the precipitous mountains of Roumeli?
According to a tradition cherished for nearly twelve centuries, the story begins far away, in Asia Minor, during one of the most troubled periods in the history of the Byzantine Church.
An Icon Saved from the Flames
The year was AD 829, during the reign of the Byzantine Emperor Theophilos, a fierce supporter of Iconoclasm — the movement that opposed the veneration of holy icons and led to their destruction.
In the city of Prusa, present-day Bursa in Turkey, there was a much-venerated icon of the Mother of God, traditionally attributed to the hand of St Luke the Evangelist.
A young nobleman, the son of a high-ranking official of the imperial court, was deeply devoted to the icon. He had witnessed, or heard of, the miracles associated with it and could not bear the thought of its destruction.
Rather than surrender it to the iconoclast authorities, he resolved to take it away from Asia Minor and carry it to safety in Greece.
He could not have imagined where his journey would end.
The Icon That Disappeared
The young man travelled westwards, carrying his precious treasure.
But when he reached Thrace, something inexplicable happened.
The icon disappeared.
Despite his efforts, he could not find it. Grieved by the loss, he continued his journey and eventually settled in Ypati, near Lamia, where he built a small chapel and tried to find consolation in prayer.
Yet the icon had not been lost.
Or rather, according to the sacred tradition, it had already reached the place where the Mother of God wished it to remain.
A Light Between Earth and Heaven
Far away, in the mountains of Evrytania, a young shepherd was tending his father’s goats.
One night, while he slept among the other shepherds, he was awakened by something extraordinary.
He heard singing.
Not the familiar voices of his companions, but sweet, gentle hymns coming from somewhere in the darkness.
Startled, he looked around and saw a great column of light rising from a cave towards the heavens.
The following morning, accompanied by his father and other shepherds, he went to investigate.
There, within the cave, they discovered the holy icon of the Mother of God, shining with an extraordinary radiance.
The news spread through the surrounding villages and eventually reached the young man who had brought the icon from Prusa.
He hurried to Evrytania.
When he saw the icon, he recognised it immediately. Falling to the ground, he venerated it with tears.
The treasure he believed he had lost had been found again — but in a place he himself would never have chosen.
Where She Wished to Remain
The young man understood the discovery as a revelation of the will of the Mother of God.
He had wished to save her icon and carry it to a place of safety. Yet she had led him, by a path he could neither foresee nor understand, to this secluded cave among the mountains.
He remained there and became a monk, taking the name Dionysios. His companion also embraced the monastic life, receiving the name Timotheos.
Thus, according to the monastery’s tradition, began the monastic community that would grow into the great sanctuary of Panagia Prousiotissa.
And so the icon, which had begun its journey in Prusa, gave its name to the monastery and to the Mother of God herself: Panagia Prousiotissa — Our Lady of Prusa.
The discovery is commemorated on 23 August, the Leavetaking of the Dormition of the Theotokos, when the monastery celebrates its principal feast.
The Footprints of the Mother of God
There is another remarkable tradition associated with the journey of the Panagia to her chosen dwelling place.
On the road leading towards the monastery, at a location known as Typoma (the Imprint), pilgrims can see what are called the Footprints of the Panagia — Ta Patimata tis Panagias.
These are seven differently coloured markings on a steep rock face which, according to local sacred tradition, were left by the Mother of God as she passed through the mountains.
The footprints have become another cherished part of the pilgrimage, a reminder of the belief that the Mother of God herself came to these mountains and chose them as her dwelling place.
The One Who Chooses, and the Ones Who Follow
There is something particularly moving about this story.
A young man sets out to save an icon. He makes his plans, chooses his destination and undertakes a difficult journey. Then, suddenly, everything is taken out of his hands.
The icon disappears. His plans come to nothing.
Only later does he discover that what seemed to be a loss had become the beginning of something far greater.
The Mother of God had not abandoned him. She had led him somewhere he had never intended to go.
Perhaps this is why the story has spoken to so many generations of pilgrims. We too make our plans, and sometimes find ourselves led along paths we would never have chosen.
And sometimes, only much later, do we begin to understand.
For nearly twelve centuries, pilgrims have made their way to this remote sanctuary, bringing their sorrows, their gratitude, their fears and their hopes before the Mother of God.
The icon remains where, according to tradition, she chose to dwell.
And the pilgrims continue to come.
The story of Panagia Prousiotissa, however, is not confined to the distant past. Her presence is still felt in the life of the monastery, and perhaps nowhere more tenderly than in the loving ministry of its Abbot, Elder Ioannikios. In the third part of our pilgrimage, we shall return to our unforgettable encounter with him and listen to his own words.
In Part III, we shall turn to some of the extraordinary accounts of the protection of Panagia Prousiotissa through war, fire and pestilence — from the Greek War of Independence to the destruction of the monastery in 1944, and the terrible influenza epidemic of 1918.
