By GORDON FAIRCLOUGH
SOUROTI,
Greece—Legend has it that nearly three decades ago, a bearded Orthodox Christian
mystic visiting here made an unsettling prediction: Greece in the future would
experience a "great disruption and confusion," followed by hunger and
political turmoil.
Believers
say this grim vision of Elder Paisios, an ascetic monk who died in 1994, was
actually a prescient glimpse of the upheaval now gripping this debt-racked
country—helping fuel a surge of interest in the Orthodox holy man by Greeks
struggling to make sense of a brutal financial crisis.
Elder
Paisios, who spent much of his adult life as a hermit on the monastic peninsula
of Mount Athos in northeastern Greece, has become a popular sensation—with
tales of his prognostications and miracles he is said to have performed posted
online and recounted in popular books.
On
Saturdays, hundreds of pilgrims line up at Elder Paisios's gravesite here,
waiting their turn to kneel, pray and kiss the wooden cross that marks his
final resting place. They ask for help finding jobs, paying bills and surviving
a downturn that has upended their lives.
"Paisios
predicted many things, and his prophecies are now coming true," said
Costas Katsaounis, a 41-year-old military officer on a visit to the shrine.
"He foresaw the crisis. But he also said it would get better, that we will
overcome and prosperity will return. He's helped a lot of people."
Elder
Paisios's fame in some ways echoes that of Michel de Notredame, better known as
Nostradamus, a 16th-century French apothecary who believers say foretold
everything from the rise of Hitler to the terror attacks of Sept. 11.
"Figures
like Paisios represent the shaman, the magician of the tribe," said
Alexandra Koronaiou, a sociologist at Panteion University of Social and
Political Sciences in Athens. "They are the incarnation of a
transcendental, invisible power."
With
Greece's economy in the fifth year of a grinding recession that is expected to
deepen further in 2013, unemployment above 25% and even middle-class families
struggling to feed their children, many Greeks feel like their society is
teetering on the brink of collapse, and they are seeking solace.
"When
there is an event that brings an entire country to its knees, people look for a
religious explanation," said Vasilios Makrides, a religious-studies
professor and specialist on Orthodox Christianity at the University of Erfurt
in Germany. "They are seeking support from the supernatural."
That
is driving a fresh boom in all things Paisios. The elder's wizened and bearded
face, peering out from below a black cap, adorns devotional banners and cards
inscribed with inspirational messages.
Bookstores
stock dozens of Paisios-related titles, from books detailing his spiritual
teachings to volumes filled with his commentary on everything from the coming
of the apocalypse to Greece's retaking of Constantinople, once the seat of
Byzantine emperors and now Istanbul.
"They
sell like crazy," said Ionnis Aivaliotis, who works at the Zoe religious
bookstore in downtown Athens. "Even nonbelievers are starting to read
them. It gives people courage to withstand what's coming."
There
is a Paisios diet guide—he was very thin—and a kids' book, "Once Upon a
Time, Children, There Was Elder Paisios."
Over
the past two years, conservative newspaper Dimokratia has sold 350,000 copies
of Paisios-related titles—from compilations of his prophecies to his views on
education. Other newspapers carry accounts of his reputed miracles.
Elder
Paisios, born Arsenios Eznepedis in central Anatolia in 1924, is part of a long
tradition of monastic spirituality that believers say confers a power of divination—to
see things others cannot, to interpret signs and predict the course of events.
Even
before his death in 1994, he was well known in religious circles, drawing the
faithful to Mount Athos for spiritual guidance and advice. Many expect that he
will eventually be canonized. (A church spokesman declined to comment.)
But
the recent increase in attention has prompted a backlash from skeptics and
drawn cautions from some in the Greek Orthodox Church hierarchy.
"People
are looking for somewhere to turn," said the Rev. Vasilios Havatzas, head
of the church's charitable operations in Athens. "But some are
overreacting. They are making him into some kind of prophet," he said,
adding: "That doesn't mean everything he said is right."
But
in a sign of the broad support for Elder Paisios, Greek police arrested
27-year-old Phillipos Loizos for creating a Facebook page that poked fun at
Greeks' belief in the miracles and prognostications of the late monk. He was
charged with blasphemy and insulting religion. The blasphemy charge was later
withdrawn.
Police
received thousands of complaints about the page on the social-networking site
for Elder Pastitsios, a play on the monk's name. Pastitsio is a traditional
baked pasta dish similar to lasagna. An ultranationalist lawmaker condemned the
page in Parliament.
Mr.
Loizos said he was using satire to criticize the commercialization of the monk
and his message.
Many
of Elder Paisios's purported prophecies resonate. "The people will be so
disappointed by the politicians of the two big parties, that they will get sick
of them," is one that rings true in an era when voter support for the
country's two mainstream parties, blamed for the crisis, has dropped sharply.
Some
of the elder's reported remarks hint at dark conspiracies—among them that the
world is ruled secretly by a cabal of five people. He also predicted national
triumphs for Greece, saying that Greeks would defeat Turkey, rule
Constantinople and take part of Albania.
"Holy
people like Elder Paisios are born once in a thousand years," said
Nikolaos Zournatzoglou, who has compiled three books of the elder's
pronouncements. "He was a gift from God and the Virgin Mary for
humanity."
In
Souroti, about 20 miles from the northeastern Greek city of Thessaloniki,
busloads of pilgrims arrived one Saturday recently to see the elder's grave.
Young and old, they prayed and took pictures. Some plucked a leaf of basil from
a plant growing near the simple cross at his head.
Afterward
in a gift shop in the basement of the rough-hewn stone church, visitors bought
postcards, plaques with images of Elder Paisios and books by and about him,
along with icons, crosses and other religious paraphernalia.
"There's
a lot of uncertainty now. We don't know what is going to happen," said
Anastasia Constantinou, a waitress visiting the shrine who said her family has
had to cut back on meat, on driving their car and on other normal activities as
their income has fallen amid the downturn.
"People
find consolation in faith," Ms. Constantinou, 32, said. "Even though
everyday life is difficult, Paisios gives strength to people. He helps them
hold on."
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424127887324469304578143271912956476.html
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424127887324469304578143271912956476.html
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