Search
News
By FoMA member, John Tsakirgis
It was mid-summer when a letter arrived from Greece – receiving a letter from Greece was always a thrilling event. It was from my good friend Father S, who tended humble olive groves on the steep slopes of Katounakia in the Southern and least accessible part of Mount Athos. His script, careful and sparse, conveyed a simple request: Help was needed to bring in this year’s harvest. The prospect of journeying to such a remote and revered place, where silence is sacred and time seems to linger, filled me with both excitement and reverence. I reached out to some fellow members of FoMA, now friends, to help. They were thrilled with the invite.
Home among the olive groves
My journey began in Boston, Massachusetts on a flight which took me to Thessaloniki via Zurich. It was great to be in Greece again and the Thessaloniki air was tinged with the scent of sea and the bustling sounds of city life. The road to Ouranoupolis, the gateway to Athos, wound through rolling hills and pine forests, gradually leaving civilisation behind. The ride also allowed me to prepare for our journey ahead and to see the local people who have decided to live nearby. With only a small rucksack and my diamonitirion [permit] in hand, I boarded the big ferry that would take me first to the port of Daphne, and then a second, smaller ferry that would take me to Katounakia, passing some of the peninsula’s most spectacular monasteries (Simonopetra, Grigoriou, Dionysiou) perched high above the water, their ancient walls etched with centuries of prayer.
Shaking the olive trees
Not many people were left on the ferry as we started to get closer to our destination, as not many people are invited, or desire, to head so far south. Father S met us at the tiny jetty, his presence serene yet purposeful, and his face showing the toils of his dedicated life. We exchanged few words, for here, conversation is measured and meaningful; in time, he led us up the steep slope along a winding path through cypress and olive trees, to his solitary cell and the groves beyond, which would be our home for the next five days.
The groves sprawled across a terraced hillside and the footpaths from below, its trees gnarled and venerable, their leaves shimmering silver in the morning light. Father S explained the rhythm of the harvest: each olive was picked by hand, gathered in woven baskets and burlap sacks, later to be taken down by mules to the ferry and a van to the other side of the peninsula and pressed in an age-old stone mill open to all the Fathers of Athos. The task was meditative — the sound of olives dropping, the chatter of distant birds, and the soft rustle of robes against grass.
Sorting the olives
Days passed in quiet labour. We worked together from sunrise to sunset, our companionship unspoken but profound. In the evenings, we shared simple meals of rusk bread, cheese, figs and silence, while sitting in the dark with only candlelight upon us. Father S spoke of the importance of patience and gratitude, weaving lessons from scripture into our daily toil. I found myself reflecting on the nature of service, humility, and the peace that comes from purposeful work.
As the last basket was filled, a gentle rain began to fall, washing the dust from our hands and the leaves from the trees. The harvest was modest, but sufficient — enough to support Father S and his monastic neighbours through the coming winter. His heart and eyes were full of happiness and gratitude that others would come to help him and his community. My journey home was marked by a sense of fulfilment and newfound appreciation for the quiet strength that sustains those who commit to live apart from the world.
Bagged up and ready to go
The experience of helping a lone monk in the heart of Athos was a pilgrimage in itself. It reminded me that sometimes the greatest journeys are not those measured in distance, but in the generosity of spirit and the bonds formed in silence. The olives from that grove will flavour many meals, but the memory of that tranquil harvest will linger far longer.
FoMA Chairman Dr Graham Speake Dr Graham Speake, one of the original...
Read MoreFoMA Trustee Christopher Deliso interviews Chris Mellen, President of FoMA’s sister charity,...
Read MoreBy David Greybe An exciting new restoration project has begun on Mount...
Read MoreBy FoMA member, John Tsakirgis It was mid-summer when a letter arrived...
Read More