Praying with the Psalms in Ordinary Time: 16 June 2022 (Psalm 113)

‘Blessed be the name of the Lord … from the rising of the sun to its setting’ (Psalm 113: 2-3) … sunrise at Igoumenitsa on the west coast of Greece (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Patrick Comerford

We are now in Ordinary Time, and in the calendar in Common Worship in the Church of England, today (Thursday 16 June 2022) is Corpus Christi or the ‘Day of Thanksgiving for the Institution of Holy Communion.’ Two of us are planning to visit Lichfield later today, visiting both the Chapel of Saint John’s Hospital and Lichfield Cathedral.

Before today begins, I am taking some time this morning to continue my reflections drawing on the Psalms.

In my blog, I am reflecting each morning in this Prayer Diary in these ways:

1, Short reflections on a psalm or psalms;

2, reading the psalm or psalms;

3, a prayer from the USPG prayer diary.

Psalm 113:

Psalm 113 is the first of the six psalms (Psalms 113-118) comprising the Hallel (הַלֵּל, ‘Praise’). It is often known by its opening phrase in Latin, Laudate pueri Dominum. In the slightly different numbering system in the Greek Septuagint and in the Latin Vulgate, this psalm is Psalm 112.

Psalms 113-118 are among the earliest prayers written to be recited in the Temple on days of national celebration. They were sung as accompaniment to the Pesach or Passover sacrifice. Early rabbinic sources suggest that these psalms were said on the pilgrimage festivals – Pesach, Shavuot and Sukkot.

Verse 7 (‘He raises the poor from the dust’) is reminiscent of Hannah’s prayer after the birth of her child (see I Samuel 2: 8). As the former Chief Rabbi, Lord (Jonathan) Sacks, notes, the religions of the ancient world were deeply conservative, designed to vindicate and perpetuate hierarchies. Judaism, however, believing that human dignity is the prerogative of everyone, was ‘an ongoing protest against such inequalities. God’s greatness is evident in the fact that he can lift the poor and the needy to a place of honour alongside princes.’

In Judaism, Psalm 113 is the first of the six psalms (Psalm 113-118) comprising the Hallel, a prayer of praise and thanksgiving on Rosh Chodesh (the first day of the Hebrew month) and the holidays of Passover (Pesach), Shavuot, and Sukkot, as well as at Hanukkah and Rosh Chodesh, or the beginning of the new month. On all days when Hallel is recited, Psalm 113 is recited in its entirety.

‘He raises the poor from the dust’ (Psalm 113: 7) … the ‘Poor Man’s Friend’ remembered in a plaque on a terrace of houses on Wolverton Road, Stony Stratford (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2022)

Psalm 113 (NRSVA):

1 Praise the Lord!
Praise, O servants of the Lord;
praise the name of the Lord.

2 Blessed be the name of the Lord
from this time on and for evermore.
3 From the rising of the sun to its setting
the name of the Lord is to be praised.
4 The Lord is high above all nations,
and his glory above the heavens.

5 Who is like the Lord our God,
who is seated on high,
6 who looks far down
on the heavens and the earth?
7 He raises the poor from the dust,
and lifts the needy from the ash heap,
8 to make them sit with princes,
with the princes of his people.
9 He gives the barren woman a home,
making her the joyous mother of children.
Praise the Lord!

The Old Court in Corpus Christi College, Cambridge … today is the Feast of Corpus Christi (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Today’s Prayer:

The theme this week in the prayer diary of the Anglican mission agency USPG (United Society Partners in the Gospel) is ‘Focus 9/99,’ which was introduced on Sunday by the Revd M Benjamin Inbaraj, Director of the Church of South India’s SEVA department.

Thursday 16 June 2022 (Corpus Christi):

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

Let us remember that many children do not have access to education. May we support efforts to remedy this wrong.

Yesterday’s reflection

Continued tomorrow



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

Why striving to safeguard the integrity of creation is part of mission for Anglicans

‘Look at the birds of the air …’ (Matthew 6: 26) … birds in the air at sunset at Malahide Castle, Co Dublin (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Patrick Comerford

Sunday, 16 February 2020,

The Second Sunday before Lent (Creation Sunday):

11.30 a.m.: Saint Brendan’s Church, Kilnaughtin, Tarbert, Co Kerry, The Parish Eucharist (Holy Communion 2)

Readings: Genesis 1: 1 to 2: 3; Psalm 136: 1-9, 23-26; Romans 8: 18-25; Matthew 6: 25-34.

‘Do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink’ (Matthew 6: 25) … lunch in Lemonokipos in Rethymnon (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

May I speak to you in the name of God, + Father, Son and Holy Spirit, Amen.

The three Sundays before Lent once had special Latin names in the Book of Common Prayer, names that were shared in most traditions in the Western Church.

These Sundays were known as Septuagesima, Sexagesima and Quinquagesima. The names were based on counting up seventy days to Easter, perhaps in some ways paralleling the seven days of creation.

This Sunday, the Second Sunday before Lent, was known as Sexagesima Sunday – a bit of a tongue twister, even for those of us who did Latin at school.

I find it much easier that in the Church Calendar we call this Sunday ‘Creation Sunday.’ It is so appropriate, with our growing awareness about climate change and the threats to God’s creation – emphasised by recent weather fluctuations, including the storms of the past week, the firestorms in Australia, and the debates about carbon emission and climate change in the recent election campaign.

Care for the creation is not a marginal concern for the Church, nor a matter of the Church keeping up with current social and political trends and fashions. The fifth of the Five Marks of Mission accepted throughout the Anglican Communion is:

● To strive to safeguard the integrity of creation, and sustain and renew the life of the earth.

Our first reading is a celebration of creation, a poetic description of God’s creation, reaching its climax or fulfilment in the creation of humanity and God’s relationship with us.

Like all good stories, this story begins at the beginning: ‘In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth’ (Genesis 1: 1).

At first, there was chaos, ‘an empty, formless void’ (verse 2). However, the life-giving power of God, the ‘wind’ or Spirit ‘from God’ sweeps over this chaos. The creation story is then told in the form of a poem or hymn, with a refrain, ‘And God saw that it was good’ (verses 4, 10, 12, 18, 20, 25).

God then says, ‘Let us’ (26), invoking the royal plural. The creation of humanity is the climax of the creation story. We are made in God’s image – the Hebrew word used here implies an exact copy or reproduction. Because of God’s blessing, we have procreative power, we are to be fruitful and multiply, and to have dominion over the earth, acting as God’s regents, taking responsibility for a just rule in and care for the creation.

And we are told that not only that ‘God saw that it was good’ – as on the other days of creation – but, ‘indeed, it was very good’ (verse 31).

The seventh day is then the day of rest, a reminder of the Sabbath. God blesses the seventh day, and God sets it apart or makes it holy. There is no evening at the end of this day – this relationship between God and humanity is to continue for ever, to the end of the story (see Revelation 21 and 22).

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks points out that few texts have had a deeper influence on Western civilisation than this first chapter of Genesis, with its momentous vision of the universe coming into being as the work of God. Set against the grandeur of the narrative, what stands out is the smallness yet uniqueness of humans, vulnerable but also undeniably set apart from all other beings.

Our Psalm (Psalm 136) echoes the wonder and humility we might feel as we realise the splendour of creation and know and find the love of God in this creation.

God who made the heavens and the earth, who spread out the waters, who made the great lights, the sun, moon and stars, is the loving God whose steadfast love endures for ever.

The honour and glory that crowns the human race is possession of the earth, which is the culmination of God’s creative work: ‘Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth and subdue it; and have dominion over [it]’ (Genesis 1: 28).

While the creation narrative in Genesis clearly establishes God as Master of the Universe, it is humanity who is appointed master or guardian of the earth.

But this raises fundamental questions about our place in creation and our responsibility for it. A literal interpretation suggests a world in which people cut down forests, slaughter animals, and dump waste into the seas at our leisure, much as we see in our world today.

On the other hand, Rav Kook (1865-1935), the first Ashkenazi Chief Rabbi of Israel, says any intelligent person should know that Genesis 1: 28, ‘does not mean the domination of a harsh ruler, who afflicts his people and servants merely to fulfil his personal whim and desire, according to the crookedness of his heart.’

Could God have really created such a complex and magnificent world solely for the caprice of humans?

Genesis 1 is only one side of the complex biblical equation. It is balanced by the narrative of Genesis 2, which features a second creation narrative that focuses on humans and their place in the Garden of Eden. The first person is set in the Garden ‘to till it and keep it’ or ‘to work it and take care of it’ (Genesis 2: 15).

The two Hebrew verbs used here are significant. The first verb – le’ovdah (לעובדח) – literally means ‘to serve it.’ The human being is thus both master and servant of nature.

The second verb – leshomrah (לשמרח) – means ‘to guard it.’ This is the same verb used later in the Bible to describe the responsibilities of a guardian of property that belongs to someone else. This guardian must exercise vigilance while protecting and is personally liable for losses that occur through negligence.

This is, perhaps, the best short definition of humanity’s responsibility for nature as the Bible presents it.

We do not own nature; ‘The earth is the Lord’s and all that is in it’ (Psalm 24: 1) We are its stewards on behalf of God, who created and owns everything. As guardians of the earth, we are duty-bound to respect its integrity.

Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch (1808-1888) put this rather well in an original interpretation of Genesis 1: 26, ‘Let us make humankind in our image according to our likeness.’ Us? Who would God consult in the process of creating humans?

Rabbi Hirsch suggests the ‘us’ in this verse refers to the rest of creation. Before creating us as humans, destined to develop the capacity to alter and possibly endanger the natural world, God sought the approval of nature itself. This interpretation implies that we would use nature only in such a way that is faithful to the purposes of the Creator and acknowledges nature’s consent to the existence of humanity.

The mandate in Genesis 1 to exercise dominion is, therefore, not technical, but moral: humanity would control, within our means, the use of nature towards the service of God. This mandate is limited by the requirement to serve and guard as seen in Genesis 2. The famous story of Genesis 2-3 – the eating of the forbidden fruit and the subsequent exile of Adam and Eve – supports this point.

Not everything is permitted. There are limits to how we interact with the earth. When we do not treat creation according to God’s will, disaster can follow.

We see this today, Rabbi Sacks says, as scientists predict more intense and destructive storms, floods, and droughts due to human-induced changes in the atmosphere. If we do not take action now, we risk the very survival of civilisation.

In the Gospel reading (Matthew 6: 25-34), we continue reading from the Sermon on the Mount. In verse 24, Christ tells us not to be anxious, to be troubled with cares, in a way that gives priorities to my own interests, that is preoccupied with or absorbed by my own self-interest.

Our self-preoccupation and self-absorption cannot lengthen our lives (verse 27). And he points to examples from nature, simple examples from creation, like lilies on the hillsides, grass in the fields, and the birds of the air, to illustrate God’s care for all creation.

‘Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today’s trouble is enough for today’ (verse 34).

Christ is saying that being self-absorbed about our own petty needs will not give us a new tomorrow. But caring for the little details of nature, like God cares for the little details of creation, will ensure that our tomorrows reflect God's plans for the creation.

The Midrash says that God showed Adam around the Garden of Eden and said, ‘Look at my works! See how beautiful they are – how excellent! For your sake I created them all. See to it that you do not spoil and destroy my world; for if you do, there will be no one else to repair it.’

Creation has its own dignity, and while we have the mandate to use it, we have none to destroy or despoil it. Rabbi Hirsch says that Shabbat was given to humanity ‘in order that he should not grow overbearing in his dominion’ of God’s creation. On the Day of Rest, ‘he must, as it were, return the borrowed world to its Divine Owner in order to realise that it is but lent to him.’

If we see how we have a unique opportunity to truly serve and care for the planet, its creatures, and its resources, then we can reclaim our status as stewards of the world, and all these things will be given to us as well.

And so, may all we think, say and do be to the praise, honour and glory of God, + Father, Son and Holy Spirit, Amen.

‘In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth’ (Genesis 1: 1) … ‘on the seventh day he rested from all his work’ (Genesis 2: 2) … sunrise at Igoumenitsa in northern Greece (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2019)

Matthew 6: 25-34 (NRSVA):

25 [Jesus said:] ‘Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? 26 Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? 27 And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life? 28 And why do you worry about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, 29 yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. 30 But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you – you of little faith? 31 Therefore do not worry, saying, “What will we eat?” or “What will we drink?” or “What will we wear?” 32 For it is the Gentiles who strive for all these things; and indeed your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. 33 But strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.

34 ‘So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today’s trouble is enough for today.’

‘Even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these’ (Matthew 6: 29) … a peacock in a vineyard in Rivesaltes in France (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Liturgical Colour: Green (Year A, Ordinary Time)

The Collect of the Day:

Almighty God,
you have created the heavens and the earth
and made us in your own image:
Teach us to discern your hand in all your works
and your likeness in all your children;
through Jesus Christ our Lord,
who with you and the Holy Spirit
reigns supreme over all things, now and for ever.

The Post-Communion Prayer:

God our creator,
by your gift the tree of life was set at the heart
of the earthly paradise,
and the Bread of life at the heart of your Church.
May we who have been nourished at your table on earth
be transformed by the glory of the Saviour’s Cross
and enjoy the delights of eternity;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.

‘But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today …’ (Matthew 6: 30) … green fields and countryside at Cross in Hand Lane, north of Lichfield (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Hymns:

58, Morning has broken (CD 4)
596, Seek ye first the kingdom of God (CD 34)
365, Praise to the Lord, the Almighty, the King of creation (CD 22)

‘Almighty God, you have created the heavens and the earth’ (The Collect of the Day) … sunrise on the Slaney Estuary at Ferrycarrig, Co Wexford (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2019)


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

Material from the Book of Common Prayer is copyright © 2004, Representative Body of the Church of Ireland.

‘Do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink’ (Matthew 6: 25) … tables set for dinner at Pigadi restaurant in Rethymnon (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

What does it mean to serve and guard the earth as stewards of God’s creation?

‘In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth’ (Genesis 1: 1) … ‘on the seventh day he rested from all his work’ (Genesis 2: 2) … sunrise at Igoumenitsa in northern Greece (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2019)

Patrick Comerford

Sunday, 16 February 2020,

The Second Sunday before Lent (Creation Sunday):

9.30 a.m.: Saint Mary’s Church, Askeaton, Co Limerick, Morning Prayer

Readings: Genesis 1: 1 to 2: 3; Psalm 136: 1-9, 23-26; Romans 8: 18-25; Matthew 6: 25-34.

‘Look at the birds of the air …’ (Matthew 6: 26) … birds in the air at sunset at Malahide Castle, Co Dublin (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

May I speak to you in the name of God, + Father, Son and Holy Spirit, Amen.

The three Sundays before Lent once had special Latin names in the Book of Common Prayer, names that were shared in most traditions in the Western Church.

These Sundays were known as Septuagesima, Sexagesima and Quinquagesima. The names were based on counting up seventy days to Easter, perhaps in some ways paralleling the seven days of creation.

This Sunday, the Second Sunday before Lent, was known as Sexagesima Sunday – a bit of a tongue twister, even for those of us who did Latin at school.

I find it much easier that in the Church Calendar we call this Sunday ‘Creation Sunday.’ It is so appropriate, with our growing awareness about climate change and the threats to God’s creation – emphasised by recent weather fluctuations, including the storms of the past week, the firestorms in Australia, and the debates about carbon emission and climate change in the recent election campaign.

Care for the creation is not a marginal concern for the Church, nor a matter of the Church keeping up with current social and political trends and fashions. The fifth of the Five Marks of Mission accepted throughout the Anglican Communion is:

● To strive to safeguard the integrity of creation, and sustain and renew the life of the earth.

Our first reading is a celebration of creation, a poetic description of God’s creation, reaching its climax or fulfilment in the creation of humanity and God’s relationship with us.

Like all good stories, this story begins at the beginning: ‘In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth’ (Genesis 1: 1).

At first, there was chaos, ‘an empty, formless void’ (verse 2). However, the life-giving power of God, the ‘wind’ or Spirit ‘from God’ sweeps over this chaos. The creation story is then told in the form of a poem or hymn, with a refrain, ‘And God saw that it was good’ (verses 4, 10, 12, 18, 20, 25).

God then says, ‘Let us’ (26), invoking the royal plural. The creation of humanity is the climax of the creation story. We are made in God’s image – the Hebrew word used here implies an exact copy or reproduction. Because of God’s blessing, we have procreative power, we are to be fruitful and multiply, and to have dominion over the earth, acting as God’s regents, taking responsibility for a just rule in and care for the creation.

And we are told that not only that ‘God saw that it was good’ – as on the other days of creation – but, ‘indeed, it was very good’ (verse 31).

The seventh day is then the day of rest, a reminder of the Sabbath. God blesses the seventh day, and God sets it apart or makes it holy. There is no evening at the end of this day – this relationship between God and humanity is to continue for ever, to the end of the story (see Revelation 21 and 22).

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks points out that few texts have had a deeper influence on Western civilisation than this first chapter of Genesis, with its momentous vision of the universe coming into being as the work of God. Set against the grandeur of the narrative, what stands out is the smallness yet uniqueness of humans, vulnerable but also undeniably set apart from all other beings.

Our Psalm (Psalm 136) echoes the wonder and humility we might feel as we realise the splendour of creation and know and find the love of God in this creation.

God who made the heavens and the earth, who spread out the waters, who made the great lights, the sun, moon and stars, is the loving God whose steadfast love endures for ever.

The honour and glory that crowns the human race is possession of the earth, which is the culmination of God’s creative work: ‘Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth and subdue it; and have dominion over [it]’ (Genesis 1: 28).

While the creation narrative in Genesis clearly establishes God as Master of the Universe, it is humanity who is appointed master or guardian of the earth.

But this raises fundamental questions about our place in creation and our responsibility for it. A literal interpretation suggests a world in which people cut down forests, slaughter animals, and dump waste into the seas at our leisure, much as we see in our world today.

On the other hand, Rav Kook (1865-1935), the first Ashkenazi Chief Rabbi of Israel, says any intelligent person should know that Genesis 1: 28, ‘does not mean the domination of a harsh ruler, who afflicts his people and servants merely to fulfil his personal whim and desire, according to the crookedness of his heart.’

Could God have really created such a complex and magnificent world solely for the caprice of humans?

Genesis 1 is only one side of the complex biblical equation. It is balanced by the narrative of Genesis 2, which features a second creation narrative that focuses on humans and their place in the Garden of Eden. The first person is set in the Garden ‘to till it and keep it’ or ‘to work it and take care of it’ (Genesis 2: 15).

The two Hebrew verbs used here are significant. The first verb – le’ovdah (לעובדח) – literally means ‘to serve it.’ The human being is thus both master and servant of nature.

The second verb – leshomrah (לשמרח) – means ‘to guard it.’ This is the same verb used later in the Bible to describe the responsibilities of a guardian of property that belongs to someone else. This guardian must exercise vigilance while protecting and is personally liable for losses that occur through negligence.

This is, perhaps, the best short definition of humanity’s responsibility for nature as the Bible presents it.

We do not own nature; ‘The earth is the Lord’s and all that is in it’ (Psalm 24: 1) We are its stewards on behalf of God, who created and owns everything. As guardians of the earth, we are duty-bound to respect its integrity.

Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch (1808-1888) put this rather well in an original interpretation of Genesis 1: 26, ‘Let us make humankind in our image according to our likeness.’ Us? Who would God consult in the process of creating humans?

Rabbi Hirsch suggests the ‘us’ in this verse refers to the rest of creation. Before creating us as humans, destined to develop the capacity to alter and possibly endanger the natural world, God sought the approval of nature itself. This interpretation implies that we would use nature only in such a way that is faithful to the purposes of the Creator and acknowledges nature’s consent to the existence of humanity.

The mandate in Genesis 1 to exercise dominion is, therefore, not technical, but moral: humanity would control, within our means, the use of nature towards the service of God. This mandate is limited by the requirement to serve and guard as seen in Genesis 2. The famous story of Genesis 2-3 – the eating of the forbidden fruit and the subsequent exile of Adam and Eve – supports this point.

Not everything is permitted. There are limits to how we interact with the earth. When we do not treat creation according to God’s will, disaster can follow.

We see this today, Rabbi Sacks says, as scientists predict more intense and destructive storms, floods, and droughts due to human-induced changes in the atmosphere. If we do not take action now, we risk the very survival of civilisation.

In the Gospel reading (Matthew 6: 25-34), we continue reading from the Sermon on the Mount. In verse 24, Christ tells us not to be anxious, to be troubled with cares, in a way that gives priorities to my own interests, that is preoccupied with or absorbed by my own self-interest.

Our self-preoccupation and self-absorption cannot lengthen our lives (verse 27). And he points to examples from nature, simple examples from creation, like lilies on the hillsides, grass in the fields, and the birds of the air, to illustrate God’s care for all creation.

‘Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today’s trouble is enough for today’ (verse 34).

Christ is saying that being self-absorbed about our own petty needs will not give us a new tomorrow. But caring for the little details of nature, like God cares for the little details of creation, will ensure that our tomorrows reflect God's plans for the creation.

The Midrash says that God showed Adam around the Garden of Eden and said, ‘Look at my works! See how beautiful they are – how excellent! For your sake I created them all. See to it that you do not spoil and destroy my world; for if you do, there will be no one else to repair it.’

Creation has its own dignity, and while we have the mandate to use it, we have none to destroy or despoil it. Rabbi Hirsch says that Shabbat was given to humanity ‘in order that he should not grow overbearing in his dominion’ of God’s creation. On the Day of Rest, ‘he must, as it were, return the borrowed world to its Divine Owner in order to realise that it is but lent to him.’

If we see how we have a unique opportunity to truly serve and care for the planet, its creatures, and its resources, then we can reclaim our status as stewards of the world, and all these things will be given to us as well.

And so, may all we think, say and do be to the praise, honour and glory of God, + Father, Son and Holy Spirit, Amen.

‘Do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink’ (Matthew 6: 25) … lunch in Lemonokipos in Rethymnon (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Matthew 6: 25-34 (NRSVA):

25 [Jesus said:] ‘Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? 26 Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? 27 And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life? 28 And why do you worry about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, 29 yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. 30 But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you – you of little faith? 31 Therefore do not worry, saying, “What will we eat?” or “What will we drink?” or “What will we wear?” 32 For it is the Gentiles who strive for all these things; and indeed your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. 33 But strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.

34 ‘So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today’s trouble is enough for today.’

‘Even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these’ (Matthew 6: 29) … a peacock in a vineyard in Rivesaltes in France (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Liturgical Colour: Green (Year A, Ordinary Time)

The Collect of the Day:

Almighty God,
you have created the heavens and the earth
and made us in your own image:
Teach us to discern your hand in all your works
and your likeness in all your children;
through Jesus Christ our Lord,
who with you and the Holy Spirit
reigns supreme over all things, now and for ever.

The Collect of the Word:

God of the living,
with all your creatures great and small
we sing your bounty and your goodness,
for in the harvest of land and ocean,
in the cycles of the seasons,
and the wonders of each creature,
you reveal your generosity.
Teach us the gratitude that dispels envy,
that we may honour each gift
as you cherish your creation,
and praise you in all times and places.

‘But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today …’ (Matthew 6: 30) … green fields and countryside at Cross in Hand Lane, north of Lichfield (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Canticles:

‘Great and Wonderful’ (Canticle 17, Book of Common Prayer, p 129).
‘Glory and Honour’ (Canticle 21, Book of Common Prayer, p 131).

Hymns:

58, Morning has broken (CD 4)
596, Seek ye first the kingdom of God (CD 34)
365, Praise to the Lord, the Almighty, the King of creation (CD 22)

‘Almighty God, you have created the heavens and the earth’ (The Collect of the Day) … sunrise on the Slaney Estuary at Ferrycarrig, Co Wexford (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2019)


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

Material from the Book of Common Prayer is copyright © 2004, Representative Body of the Church of Ireland.

‘Do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink’ (Matthew 6: 25) … tables set for dinner at Pigadi restaurant in Rethymnon (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Seeing everyone in God’s light makes more than a shade of difference

‘The Beginning’ … one of the images projected onto to the West Front of Lichfield Cathedral before Christmas by Luxmuralis as part of ‘The Cathedral Illuminated 2019: The Beginning’ (Photograph courtesy Kathryn Walker / Luxmuralis, 2019)

Patrick Comerford

Sunday 5 January 2020

The Second Sunday of Christmas (Christmas 2)

9.30 a.m., Saint Mary’s Church, Askeaton,

The Parish Eucharist (Holy Communion 2)

The Readings: Jeremiah 31: 7-14; Wisdom 10: 15-21; Ephesians 1: 3-14; John 1: 1-18.

Colour-blindness makes it difficult to distinguish the different lines on a map of the London Underground

May I speak to you in the name of God, + Father, Son and Holy Spirit, Amen.

Our first reading this morning (Jeremiah 31: 7-14) includes a promise to the ‘blind and the lame’ that they will be gathered into God’s people and counted in in God’s promises, that they will see God’s ways, that they will be part of the great journey of faith.

Instead of a Psalm this morning, we read from the Wisdom of Solomon (Wisdom 10: 15-21), in which we are told that Wisdom has delivered God’s people from oppressive overlords, guiding them by day and by night, so that even the mute and small children could no longer be silent, but sing out God’s praises.

Sometimes, I have to admit, that when I am travelling through London, I get lost, not because I do not know my way around London, but because I am colour blind, and I find it easy to get lost when I am reading the maps for the London Underground.

Colour-blindness is usually genetic, and usually only effects men.

I only came to know about it in my case after I was disappointed with not getting the marks I expected in Art in the Leaving Certificate.

It is not a sickness, it is not going to be cured, but when it comes to finding my way around the Underground, it is a disability.

Light green blurs into light blue, light blue turns into deep blue, deep blue becomes purple, and purple becomes black.

Never mind the gap, I can see that. I just find it difficult to tell the Piccadilly Line from the Northern Line, Victoria from Piccadilly, and Waterloo and City from Victoria.

Before you could figure out how many Cs and how many Ls there are to spell Piccadilly, I am heading off on the wrong line, in the wrong direction, to I don’t know where.

It’s not a disability that is crying out for help, compared to what others go through with in life.

Actually, I prefer to walk, and sometimes I find it quicker and more pleasant.

But when I use the Tube, I have learned to have enough wisdom and enough humility to ask people to help me to read the maps and to point out which line is which.

There is nothing wrong with falling back on either wisdom or humility. And it makes for interesting conversations.

Our way of seeing colours is conditioned not just by colour-blindness and the different forms of it, or our lack of it, but also by our language, our culture and our politics.

Politics? Yes. Every time I see Trump wearing a red tie and Obama a blue tie, I wonder do they know the political significance of these colours in America is reversed everywhere else in the world. Throughout Europe, Green has a particular significance that is sometimes very difficult for the Green Party to explain in Northern Ireland. Try explaining in Northern Ireland how the words ‘Orange’ and ‘Revolution’ came together in Ukraine 15 years ago (2004-2005).

Culturally, although we have words for violet, purple and indigo in English, and know they are separate colours, we find it very difficult to distinguish them in our culture and to tell the difference between them.

Newcomers to learning classical Greek sometimes stumble at Homer’s reference to the wine-red sea (οἶνοψ πόντος, oinops pontos). We traditionally think of the sea as blue, although James Joyce gives it a particularly nasal shade of green.

Modern Greek has at least four different words for blue:

● γαλάζιο (galázio) for light blue or sky blue
● θαλασσί (thalassí) for sea blue
● μπλε (ble), a loan word from the French bleu
● κυανό (kyanó) for azure

And then there is τυρκουάζ (tyrkouáz) for turquoise, and other words too.

Since I started to learn to speak Greek, I can honestly say that I now see different blues as different colours rather as than different shades.

Yet a language that has at least four words for blue has to borrow from English the words for grey (γκρί) and brown (καφέ).

On the other hand, we don’t have separate words for different blues. Every time we want to be definitive about blue, we have to qualify it: royal blue, sea blue, sky blue, baby blue … and so on … we could even be singing the Blues or feeling the Blues.

Colours are not fixed. How we see colours is a combination of light or light waves and cultural conditioning.

We can see no colours without light. Without light, how would we truly see the colours underwater, how would we see the colours of sunrise or sunset?

In our Gospel reading (John 1: 1-18), we read how the light of Christ fully reveals God’s ways, and through Christ we have been given access to God the Father:

‘What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it… The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world’ (John 1: 3-5, 9).

Just like there are different colours and shades of colours that we can only distinguish in their true light, so there are different forms of light.

X-ray light allows doctors and medics to see inside our bodies: bones, organs, tumours, the workings of our muscles and joints … it is truly beautiful, but not a beauty we would want to see every hour of every day.

Artists work with different lights. They show their subjects in a light that we would not use consistently throughout the day.

We speak of enlightenment and of ‘light-bulb’ moments, because they are not regular, daily occurrences. We might want to think we are enlightened, but it would be an exhausted genius who had a ‘light-bulb’ moment every moment.

We need dark and shade to see and experience the light.

All are different forms of light, and we see each other in a different light, at different times, depending on the time and circumstances.

Imagine if we all saw each other in the same light, constantly.

We would be a very boring, monochrome collection of people.

But imagine if we see each other, just every now and then, in the way God sees us, in the way we should see each other when God’s light shines on us, ‘the true light, which enlightens everyone’ (John 1: 9).

If only for a moment we could see one another in the light of God, the true light, which enlightens everyone, which was coming into the world that first Christmas.

That would make more than a shade of difference to the world.

And so, may all we think, say and do be to the praise, honour and glory of God, + Father, Son and Holy Spirit, Amen.

How we use language determines whether we see different shades of blue or different colours … four candles used as a sermon illustration (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2019)

John 1: 1-18 (NRSVA):

1 In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. 2 He was in the beginning with God. 3 All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being 4 in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. 5 The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.

6 There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. 7 He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. 8 He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light. 9 The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world.

10 He was in the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him. 11 He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him. 12 But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God, 13 who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God.

14 And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth. 15 (John testified to him and cried out, ‘This was he of whom I said, “He who comes after me ranks ahead of me because he was before me”.’ 16 From his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace. 17 The law indeed was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ. 18 No one has ever seen God. It is God the only Son, who is close to the Father’s heart, who has made him known.

‘The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it’ … sunrise over the coast at Igoumenitsa in northern Greece (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2019)

Liturgical Colour: White (or Gold).

The Penitential Kyries:

Lord God, mighty God,
you are the creator of the world.

Lord, have mercy.
Lord, have mercy.

Lord Jesus, Son of God and Son of Mary,
you are the Prince of Peace.

Christ, have mercy.
Christ, have mercy.

Holy Spirit,
by your power the Word was made flesh
and came to dwell among us.

Lord, have mercy.
Lord, have mercy.

The Collect of the Day:

Almighty God,
in the birth of your Son
you have poured on us the new light of your incarnate Word,
and shown us the fullness of your love:
Help us to walk in this light and dwell in his love
that we may know the fullness of his joy;
who is alive and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and for ever.

Introduction to the Peace:

Unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given,
and his name shall be called the Prince of Peace. (Isaiah 9: 6)

Preface:

You have given Jesus Christ your only Son
to be born of the Virgin Mary,
and through him you have given us power
to become the children of God:

The Post-Communion Prayer:

Light eternal,
you have nourished us in the mystery
of the body and blood of your Son:
By your grace keep us ever faithful to your word,
in the name of Jesus Christ our Lord.

Blessing:

Christ, who by his incarnation gathered into one
all things earthly and heavenly,
fill you with his joy and peace:

How we use language determines whether we see different shades of blue or different colours

Hymns:

652, Lead us, heavenly Father, lead us (CD 37)
166, Joy to the world, the Lord is come! (CD 166)
425, Jesu thou joy of loving hearts (CD 25)

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

Material from the Book of Common Prayer is copyright © 2004, Representative Body of the Church of Ireland.

‘The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it’ (John 1: 4) … sunrise over the River Slaney at Ferrycarrig, Co Wexford, creates different shades of blue (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2019)

The pinnacles of Meteora form a unique combination of geology and theology

The monasteries of Meteora are balanced precariously on the rocky pinnacles above the Plain of Thessaly (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2019)

Patrick Comerford

A holiday in Corfu in late August and early September allowed me to explore some of the neighbouring Ionian Islands, including Paxos and Antipaxos, to visit churches, monasteries, convents and places of historical interest in Corfu, and to return to southern Albania, visiting Saranda and travelling south to the Greek-speaking areas on the borders with northern Greece, including the archaeological site in Butrint.

Early one morning, I also took a boat from the small port of Lefkimmi in south-east Corfu to Igoumenitsa on the north-west coast of Greece.

Igoumenitsa is the gateway port from the Ionian Islands to the Greek mainland, and I spent a day visiting the many monasteries of the Meteora in the plains in central Greece, halfway between Thessaloniki and Athens.

Until the late 1970s, Meteora was virtually beyond Greece or the Orthodox world. All that changed in 1981 with the movie For Your Eyes Only, and the final, climactic with James Bond at the fictitious Saint Cyril’s Monastery, which in real life is the Monastery of the Holy Trinity.

The first monasteries may not have been formed until the 14th century (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2019)

Unique rock formations

Meteora is a geologically unique and captivating collection of rock formations in central Greece and is home one of the largest and most precipitously built complexes of monasteries in the Eastern Orthodox world.

Indeed, in the Orthodox world, the monasteries of Meteora are second in importance only to Mount Athos.

In all, there once were 24 monasteries in this Meteroa, although only six of the original 24 function as monasteries today. They are built precariously on top of immense natural pillars and hill-like rounded boulders that dominate the area.

Meteora, which is included on the UNESCO World Heritage List, is near the town of Kalambaka at the north-west edge of the Plain of Thessaly, close to the Pineios River and the Pindus Mountains. The name means ‘in the air,’ ‘lofty’ or ‘elevated,’ and the word is related to the word ‘meteor.’

These enormous columns or pillars of rock rise precipitously from the ground, and their unusual form is not easy to explain geologically.

Six of the original 24 monasteries still function today as monasteries or nunneries (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2019)

Caves in the Meteora area were inhabited continuously between 50,000 and 5,000 years ago. The oldest known example of a built structure, a stone wall that blocked two-thirds of the entrance to the Theopetra cave, was built 23,000 years ago, probably as a barrier against cold winds during an ice age.

It is surprising then that Meteora is not mentioned in classical Greek myths nor in Ancient Greek literature.

After the Neolithic Era, the first people to inhabit Meteora seem to have been ascetic hermits or monks who moved to the pinnacles in the ninth century AD. At first, they lived in hollows and fissures in the rock towers, some as high as 550 metres above the plain. These heights and the sheer cliff faces deterred all but the most determined visitors.

The Monastery of Great Meteoro is the largest of the monasteries at Meteora (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2019)

Isolated solitude

Initially, the first hermits led lives of isolated and lonely solitude, meeting together only on Sundays and holy days to worship and pray together in a chapel built at the foot of a rock known as Doubiani.

Some monks were living in the caverns of Meteora as early as the 11th century. By the late 11th and early 12th centuries, a rudimentary monastic state had formed called the Skete of Stagoi and was centred around the Church of the Theotokos (the Mother of God).

The exact date when the first monasteries were formed is not known, but it may not have been until the 14th century, when the monks sought places to hide and shelter in the face of an increasing number of Turkish attacks in this part of Greece.

Varlaam is the second largest monastery in Meteora (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2019)

Athanasios Koinovitis from Mount Athos brought a group of followers to Meteora in 1344. From 1356 to 1372, he founded the Great Meteoro monastery on the Broad Rock, which was perfect for the monks. This impressive rock rises 613 metres above sea level and 413 metres above the nearest town, Kalambaka.

Athanasios gathered 14 monks from the surrounding rock, organised a community, and laid the foundations for a common monastic life. There they were safe from political turmoil and had complete control of the entry to the monastery. The only way the monastery could be reached it was by climbing a long ladder that was drawn up whenever the monks felt under threat.

Looking out onto the world from the Holy Monastery of Rousanou or Saint Barbara (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2019)

Dangerous and difficult access

Byzantine rule in northern Greece was increasingly threatened by the end of the 14th century by Turkish raiders seeking to control the fertile plain of Thessaly. The monks found the inaccessible rock pillars of Meteora were ideal refuges, and more than 20 monasteries were built, beginning in the 14th century.

Access to the monasteries was deliberately difficult, requiring either climbing long ladders latched together on the rockfaces, or balancing in large nets and basks used to haul up both goods and people and to let them down again.

It is said this required quite a leap of faith – the ropes were replaced, so the story goes, only ‘when the Lord let them break.’

A modern icon of Christ in a ceiling in Varlaam (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2019)

At their peak in the 16th century, there were 24 monasteries at Meteora. Their architecture is often Athonite in origin, inspired by the monasteries of Mount Athos. Today, six of these monasteries are still functioning, but the rest are largely in ruins. Perched on high cliffs, they are now accessible by staircases and pathways cut into the rock formations.

Queen Marie of Romania became the first woman ever allowed to enter the Great Meteoro monastery when she visited Meteora in 1921. By then, living conditions were beginning to improve for the monks. Steps were cut into the rocks in the 1920s, making the complex accessible through a bridge from the nearby plateau. The area was bombed during World War II and many art treasures were stolen.

Today, only six of the original 24 monasteries are functioning, with 15 monks in four monasteries and 41 nuns in two monasteries: men in the Monasteries of the Transfiguration or Great Meteoro, All Saints or Saint Varlaam, Holy Trinity and Saint Nicholas Anapafsas; and women in the Monasteries of Saint Stephen and Saint Barbara, also known as Roussanou.

An engraving from 1792 shows monks accessing the monasteries by ropes and ladders (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2019)

Visiting two monasteries

Apart from their rhythm of daily prayer and their breath-taking views, the treasures of these monasteries include their decorated churches with frescoes and icons, their libraries, relics and museums.

I visited two of the monasteries – the monastery of All Saints or Varlaam and the Holy Monastery of Roussanou, also known as Saint Barbara – and stopped on the way to see the other four functioning monasteries.

Visitors need no permits issued in advance, women as well as men are welcome as visitors, and all the monasteries display notices outside advising when they are open and when the Divine Liturgy is served.

The early ropes and pulleys still survive in many monasteries (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2019)

The monasteries stand precariously on top of immense natural pillars and hill-like rounded boulders that dominate the area. But, because of their openness and their reputation for hospitality and welcome, I was not surprised to find that Russian and Romanian tourists find pilgrimage and tourism an interesting combination.

The Monastery of Great Meteoro is the largest of the monasteries at Meteora, although only three monks live there today It was founded in the mid-14th century and was restored and embellished in 1483 and again in 1552.

The Katholikon or main church Great Meteoro is consecrated in honour of the Transfiguration of Christ. It was built in the mid-14th century and again in 1387-1388 and was decorated in 1483 and 1552. One building serves as the main museum for tourists.

However, the first monastery I visited in Meteora was the Monastery of Varlaam, the second largest monastery in the Meteora complex. Today, seven monks live here and it has the largest number of monks among the men’s monasteries.

A precarious ladder balanced against a rockface below a monastery (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2019)

The monastery of Varlaam was built by Theophanes in 1517, and is reputed to house the finger of Saint John and the shoulder blade of Saint Andrew.

The main church or katholikon in Varlaam is dedicated to All Saints. It is built in the Athonite style, in the shape of a cross-in-square with a dome and choirs, and spacious exonarthex is surrounded by a dome.

The church was built in 1541-1542 and decorated in 1548, while the exonarthex was decorated in 1566. The old refectory is used as a museum while north of the church is the parekklesion of the Three Hierarchs, built in 1627 and decorated in 1637.

The monastery became more accessible in 1923 when 195 steps were cut into rockface, allowing monks and visitors to walk to the top.

The six surviving monasteries remain centres of prayer and pilgrimage (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2019)

The second monastery I visited was the Holy Monastery of Rousanou or Saint Barbara, founded in the mid-16th century and decorated in 1560.

The name Rousanou may be derived from the family name of the founder, or from the red colour of the rock on which it is built.

Ascent to the monastery was by rope ladders until 1897. Later, two wooden bridges were built for monks and visitors. Since 1936, two strong but picturesque bridges serve the same purpose.

The monastery went into decline after World War II, and was eventually abandoned. But a community of women were invited to move into Rousanou, and today, it is a flourishing nunnery with a community of 13 nuns living there.

A prayer in the Monastery of Varlaam (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2019)

I had also expected to visit the Monastery of Saint Stephen, but our plans were changed. This monastery has a small church that was built in the 16th century and decorated in 1545. This monastery is unusual because it stands on the plain rather than on a cliff.

The Monastery of Saint Stephen housed 31 monks in 1888. But it was shelled by the Nazis during World War II, who claimed it was harbouring Greek resistance fighters. It was abandoned after World War II, and it was virtually deserted by 1960. The monastery was given over to nuns in 1961 and they have rebuilt it, so that today it is a flourishing nunnery, with 28 nuns living there.

Icons in a workshop in Kalambaka (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2019)

Icon workshops

As we drove around Meteora, we also saw the two other monasteries that have survived into the 21st century.

The Monastery of the Holy Trinity was built on top of the cliffs in 1475 and was remodelled in 1684, 1689, 1692 and again in 1741. Today there are four monks living in the monastery that was Bond’s fictitious Saint Cyril’s.

Orthodox religious goods in the Zindos workshop in Kalambaka, below Meteora (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2019)

The Monastery of Saint Nicholas Anapafsas, near the village of Kastraki, was built in the 16th century. Its small church was decorated in 1527 by the noted Cretan painter, Theophanes Strelitzas, also known as Theophanes the Cretan. Today, there is only one monk living in this monastery.

The day also provided an opportunity to visit the Zindos icon workshop in Kalambaka before returning to Igoumenitsa and catching a return ferry to Lefkimmi on Corfu.

The port of Igoumenitsa is the gateway from the Ionian Islands to mainland Greece (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2019)

This feature was first published in the Church Review (Diocese of Dublin and Glendalough) in October 2019.

Early morning sunrise in the Ionian Sea on the way to the monasteries of Meteora (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2019)

Sunrise at Igoumenitsa, the harbour that leads to northern Greece

Sunrise in the Gulf of Igoumenitsa (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2019)

Many people associate holidays in Greece with island hopping. So, I suppose I did something in reverse on Sunday morning [25 August 2019], when I hopped off the island sailed into the sun.

I left Agios Georgios at 5.30 to catch an early-morning ferry from the small port of Lefkimmi, on the south-east coast of Corfu, and crossed the narrow passage in the Ionian Sea that separates Corfu from the Greek mainland.

The sailing from island to mainland takes less than an hour, and as we got closer the mainland, the sun was rising above the Pindus Mountains above the harbour.

In front of us was the whole region of Epirus in northern Greece. To our left or to the north we could make out the coastline of southern Albania. The mountains were cast in a dark silhouette against the glowing orange sky, and the sea below us was sparkling in golden rays of sunshine.

Moments later, we had docked in the small mainland port of Igoumenitsa (Ηγουμενίτσα), and the normal daily routine of harbour morning life had already started, although the town before was still sleepy.

Igoumenitsa is a small town and its economy depends on the port and harbour traffic. About 26,000 people live here, but only 10,000 within the bounds of the town itself. In the medieval and Ottoman times, it was known as Grava (Γράβα), meaning ‘cave,’ but when it became the capital of the prefecture of Thesprotia in 1938, its name was changed to Igoumenitsa, meaning the town of the abbot.

Early morning in Igoumenitsa (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2019)

Yet this is the gateway to northern Greece, and it stands at the beginning of the Egnatia motorway, built between 1994 and 2009. This road runs parallel with the route of the Via Egnatia, an ancient Roman imperial highway, leading past Thessaloniki and into Adrianople or Edirne in north-west Turkey, across 670 km, through 76 tunnels and over 1,650 bridges.

This is the link between Turkey and mainland Europe, and ferries from Igoumenitsa and Patras continue the journey on to Ancona, Bari, Brindisi and even Venice.

As we headed east through the Pindos Mountains, we were travelling through Epirus in northern Greece, a province with a population of about 350,000 people. The neighbouring part of southern Albania is known to Greeks as Northern Epirus.

It might have been interesting to stop at the archaeological site at Dodoni, at the foot of Mount Tomaros, where the theatre was once the largest in Greece with 18,000 seats, and the stadium was one of the few in classical Greece with stone seats.

It might have been interesting to stop at Ionannia, the capital of Epirus, once an important seat of Greek learning and once the seat of Ali Pasha.

It might have been interesting to stop at Lake Ionannia, with the island in the middle associated with some of the myths and legends about the capricious Ali Pasha.

But we continued along the Egnatia Highway, turning off for Kalambaka. It was still early Sunday morning, and I wanted to spend much of the day visiting the monasteries, perched delicately on the pinnacles of towering rock formations.

Igoumenitsa was far behind us, but the thoughts of that sunrise made me happy I had decided to stay on the deck of the Ioannis Kapodistrias with my early morning coffee instead of catching up on my sleep.

The port of Igoumenitsa is the gateway to northern Greece (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2019)