ΑΝ ΠΕΘΑΝΕΙΣ ΠΡΙΝ ΠΕΘΑΝΕΙΣ, ΔΕ ΘΑ ΠΕΘΑΝΕΙΣ ΟΤΑΝ ΠΕΘΑΝΕΙΣ

(ΠΑΡΟΙΜΙΑ ΟΡΘΟΔΟΞΩΝ ΜΟΝΑΧΩΝ)

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Κυριακή 19 Απριλίου 2026

Κυριακή του Θωμά: Ιωάννης 20:19–31 // Thomas Sunday: John 20:19–31

 

Η περικοπή Ιωάννης 20:19–31, που διαβάζεται στην θεία Λειτουργία της Κυριακής του Θωμά, δεν είναι απλώς μία «ιστορία αμφιβολίας», αλλά μια συνοπτική αποκάλυψη του τρόπου με τον οποίο ο Αναστημένος Χριστός συγκροτεί την Εκκλησία ως σώμα ζωντανής κοινωνίας, πίστεως και αποστολής. Η Ορθόδοξη παράδοση βλέπει εδώ την έξοδο από τον φόβο, τη δωρεά του Αγίου Πνεύματος, τη θεραπεία της ανθρώπινης δυσπιστίας και τη μαρτυρία ότι ο Ιησούς είναι αληθινός Θεός και αληθινός άνθρωπος.
Το κείμενο αρχίζει «τῇ μιᾷ τῶν σαββάτων» και «τῶν θυρῶν κεκλεισμένων ὅπου ἦσαν οἱ μαθηταὶ συνηγμένοι διὰ τὸν φόβον τῶν Ἰουδαίων». Οι μαθητές έχουν ακούσει την είδηση της Αναστάσεως, αλλά ο εσωτερικός τους κόσμος παραμένει τραυματισμένος: φόβος, αμηχανία, ανασφάλεια. Ο Χριστός, όμως, έρχεται «καὶ ἔστη εἰς τὸ μέσον». Στη λειτουργική εμπειρία της Εκκλησίας, Αυτός που «στέκεται στο μέσον» είναι ο Κύριος που καθιστά την κοινότητα εκκλησιαστική σύναξη: δεν είναι ιδεολογία που ενώνει, αλλά Πρόσωπο που παρίσταται. Η είσοδός Του, παρά τις κλειστές θύρες, δείχνει ότι το αναστημένο σώμα Του είναι αληθινό σώμα, αλλά πλέον ελευθερωμένο από τους περιορισμούς της φθοράς· δεν πρόκειται για φάντασμα, αλλά για τον ίδιο Ιησού σε νέα, αφθαρτοποιημένη κατάσταση ζωής.
 
Ο χαιρετισμός «Εἰρήνη ὑμῖν» δεν είναι τυπική ευχή. Η ειρήνη εδώ είναι καρπός της καταλλαγής ανθρώπου και Θεού, το τέλος της εχθρότητας που γεννά η αμαρτία. Αμέσως «ἔδειξεν αὐτοῖς τὰς χεῖρας καὶ τὴν πλευρὰν αὐτοῦ». Τα σημάδια των ήλων και η πληγωμένη πλευρά φανερώνουν ότι η Ανάσταση δεν καταργεί τον Σταυρό, αλλά τον δοξάζει. Στην Ορθόδοξη θεολογία, η σωτηρία δεν είναι διαγραφή της ιστορίας του πόνου, αλλά μεταμόρφωσή της σε δόξα: ο Χριστός φέρει τα τραύματα ως αιώνια μαρτυρία της αγάπης Του.
Κατόπιν ο Χριστός «ἐνεφύσησεν καὶ λέγει αὐτοῖς· Λάβετε Πνεῦμα Ἅγιον». Η κίνηση της εμφυσήσεως θυμίζει τη Γένεση, όπου ο Θεός εμφυσά στον Αδάμ πνοή ζωής. Εδώ αρχίζει μια νέα κτίση: ο ανακαινισμένος άνθρωπος ζει πλέον «ἐν Πνεύματι». Η δωρεά συνδέεται με την αποστολή και την άφεση των αμαρτιών: «ἄν τινων ἀφῆτε…». Η Εκκλησία δεν κηρύττει γενικά «ιδέες περί συγγνώμης», αλλά διακονεί μυστηριακά τη συμφιλίωση, ως καρπό του Πάθους και της Αναστάσεως. Η εξουσία αυτή δεν είναι ανθρώπινη κυριαρχία, αλλά διακονία θεραπείας, που προϋποθέτει μετάνοια και ένταξη στην εκκλησιαστική κοινότητα.
 
Ο Θωμάς απουσιάζει και δηλώνει ότι χρειάζεται να δει και να αγγίξει. Η Ορθόδοξη παράδοση δεν τον παρουσιάζει ως «αρνητή», αλλά ως άνθρωπο που επιθυμεί βεβαιότητα προσωπικής σχέσης. Ο Χριστός μετά από οκτώ ημέρες επανέρχεται, πάλι «εἰς τὸ μέσον», και προσκαλεί τον Θωμά να ψηλαφήσει. Δεν τον εξευτελίζει, δεν τον απορρίπτει· συγκαταβαίνει παιδαγωγικά, ώστε η πίστη να γίνει εμπειρία. Η πρόσκληση «μὴ γίνου ἄπιστος ἀλλὰ πιστός» δεν καταδικάζει την αναζήτηση, αλλά θεραπεύει τη δυσπιστία που κλείνει τον άνθρωπο στον εαυτό του.
Η ομολογία του Θωμά «Ὁ Κύριός μου καὶ ὁ Θεός μου» είναι η κορύφωση του Ευαγγελίου του Ιωάννη: ο Ιησούς αναγνωρίζεται ρητά ως Θεός. Και όμως, ο μακαρισμός του Χριστού—«μακάριοι οἱ μὴ ἰδόντες καὶ πιστεύσαντες»—δεν υμνεί μια τυφλή αποδοχή, αλλά μια πίστη που γεννιέται από την εκκλησιαστική μαρτυρία, τα Μυστήρια και την ενέργεια του Πνεύματος. Στη Θεία Λειτουργία η Εκκλησία ζει αυτή την πραγματικότητα: «βλέπει» και κοινωνεί τον Αναστημένο ως αληθινή παρουσία.
Ο επίλογος της περικοπής φανερώνει τον σκοπό της Γραφής: «ἵνα πιστεύσητε ὅτι ὁ Ἰησοῦς ἐστιν ὁ Χριστὸς ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ Θεοῦ, καὶ ἵνα πιστεύοντες, ζωὴν ἔχητε ἐν τῷ ὀνόματι αὐτοῦ». Η πίστη δεν είναι ψυχολογική παρηγοριά, αλλά είσοδος στην καινή ζωή, δηλαδή στην κοινωνία με τον Τριαδικό Θεό. Έτσι η Κυριακή του Θωμά γίνεται εορτή της βεβαιότητας ότι ο Αναστημένος δεν είναι ανάμνηση, αλλά Κύριος που είναι παρών μέσα στην Εκκλησία Του και μεταδίδει ειρήνη, Πνεύμα Άγιο και ζωή.
***** 
 
Thomas Sunday: John 20:19–31
 

  
The passage John 20:19–31, read at the Divine Liturgy on Thomas Sunday, is not simply a “story of doubt,” but a concise revelation of how the Risen Christ constitutes the Church as a body of living communion, faith, and mission. Orthodox tradition sees here the passage out of fear, the gift of the Holy Spirit, the healing of human unbelief, and the witness that Jesus is truly God and truly man.
The text begins “on the first day of the week” and with “the doors being shut where the disciples were gathered, for fear of the Jews.” The disciples have heard the news of the Resurrection, yet their inner world remains wounded: fear, confusion, insecurity. Christ, however, comes and “stood in the midst.” In the Church’s liturgical experience, the One who “stands in the midst” is the Lord who makes the community an ecclesial assembly: it is not an ideology that unites, but a Person who is present. His entrance, despite the closed doors, shows that His risen body is a true body, now freed from the limitations of corruption; it is not a ghost, but the same Jesus in a new, incorruptible mode of life.
 
The greeting “Peace be with you” is not a conventional wish. Here peace is the fruit of reconciliation between man and God, the end of the enmity generated by sin. At once “He showed them His hands and His side.” The marks of the nails and the wounded side reveal that the Resurrection does not abolish the Cross, but glorifies it. In Orthodox theology, salvation is not the erasure of the history of suffering, but its transfiguration into glory: Christ bears His wounds as an eternal testimony of His love.
Then Christ “breathed on them and said to them, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit.’” The act of breathing recalls Genesis, where God breathes into Adam the breath of life. Here a new creation begins: the renewed human being now lives “in the Spirit.” The gift is linked to mission and the forgiveness of sins: “if you forgive the sins of any….” 
The Church does not merely proclaim general “ideas about forgiveness,” but serves reconciliation sacramentally, as the fruit of the Passion and the Resurrection. This authority is not human domination, but a ministry of healing, which presupposes repentance and incorporation into the ecclesial community.
Thomas is absent and declares that he needs to see and to touch. Orthodox tradition does not present him as a “denier,” but as a person who desires the certainty of a personal relationship. 
 
After eight days Christ returns, again “in the midst,” and invites Thomas to touch. He does not humiliate him; He does not reject him. He condescends pedagogically, so that faith may become experience. The summons, “Do not be unbelieving, but believing,” does not condemn honest searching, but heals the distrust that closes the person in upon himself.
Thomas’s confession, “My Lord and my God,” is the climax of the Gospel of John: Jesus is explicitly acknowledged as God. And yet Christ’s beatitude—“Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed”—does not praise blind acceptance, but a faith born from the Church’s witness, the Mysteries (Sacraments), and the energy of the Spirit. In the Divine Liturgy the Church lives this reality: it “sees” and communes with the Risen One as a true presence.
The epilogue of the passage reveals the purpose of Scripture: “that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that believing you may have life in His name.” Faith is not psychological consolation, but entry into new life—namely, communion with the Triune God. Thus Thomas Sunday becomes a feast of certainty that the Risen One is not a memory, but the Lord who is present within His Church and communicates peace, the Holy Spirit, and life.

Τετάρτη 15 Απριλίου 2026

The Romeoi (Rum) of the Levant: Identity and a Concise Historical Overview

 


Ioannis K. Neonakis
Head of the Romeosyne Policy Department, NIKI 

Democratic Patriotic Popular Movement NIKI 

Acknowledgements

First and foremost, we wish to express our heartfelt gratitude to the members of the Romaian Cultural Society, based in Beirut, and in particular to its President, Professor Negib Elias Geahchan, as well as to Mr Nicolas Saba and Mr Gabriel Andrea, for their invaluable assistance.

Introduction

In modern European terminology, the term Levant denotes the geographical area of the Eastern Mediterranean, and more specifically its eastern shores, that is, the region comprising chiefly Syria, Lebanon, Palestine, and Jordan. The term derives from the French word levant (“east,” “the place where the sun rises”).
The name Romeoi / Romaioi (Rum) is not merely a historical designation, but a declaration of identity and continuity. It derives from Rome, initially the city in Italy, and thereafter from New Rome, Constantinople, which was founded in 330 AD by Saint Constantine the Great and served as the capital of the Roman Empire, that is, of our homeland Romanía (wrongly and deceitfully termed “Byzantium”).
Greek cities in the region of the Levant are already attested from the seventh century BC onward. Phoenicians (Canaanites) and Arameans, in continual contact and intermixture with the Greek world (populations from Cyprus, the islands of the Aegean, and Asia Minor), gradually formed a unified cultural body. During the age of Alexander the Great and the subsequent Seleucid period, Hellenization was profound and complete, with the Greek language becoming the common tongue of daily life, administration, and education, especially in the western provinces (present-day Lebanon, Palestine, and Western Syria).

Seleucus I Nicator, Alexander’s general, founded Antioch the Great, whose first settlers were chiefly Athenians and Macedonians. Antioch would become a cradle of Greek civilization, and later of Christianity, while the whole region would for hundreds of years constitute a central pillar of Romanía. To this day, Antioch remains the seat of the Orthodox Romeic Patriarchate, bearing witness to an unbroken ecclesiastical and historical continuity.
Nearly all the major cities of the Levant bore Greek names already from antiquity. Some have survived to this day, others were partially Arabized, while some were replaced by Arabic names: Ptolemais (Akko / Acre), Tyre, Sarepta (Sarafand), Sidon (Saida), Porphyreon (Jiyeh), Berytus (Beirut), Byblos (Jbeil), Botrys (Batroun), Tripolis (Tripoli), Arcadia (Arqa), Antaradus (Tartus), Aradus (Arwad), Heliopolis (Baalbek), Seleuceia (al-Suqaylabiyah), Paneas (Banias), Caesarea, and others.
When the Levant was incorporated into the Roman Empire, its inhabitants became Roman citizens, yet without losing their linguistic and cultural substratum. Greek remained the living language both of the people and of the state. This is clearly reflected in the New Testament, which was written there in the Greek language.

Christianization

Before 313 AD, Christianity remained chiefly an urban reality, embraced by a relatively small part of the population (10–20%). Yet with the appearance of Saint Constantine the Great and the historic turning point he brought about, a new era began for Romanía. The transfer of the capital to New Rome / Constantinople was not a mere administrative act, but a profound rupture that redefined the course of the Empire. This city emerged as the center of Orthodoxy, and from that point onward Romanía was no longer simply an empire, but a Christian polity, in which the faith largely shaped the identity, society, and very mode of existence of the Romeoi. From the fourth century onward, the population of the Levant, like that of the entire Empire, became almost wholly Christian.

Christian Schisms

Antioch, a metropolis of Romanía with a population that reached 500,000, was a center of theology and intellectual life, but at the same time also a field of multiple tensions. Within this environment arose major heresies, which were not merely doctrinal disagreements, but ruptures that deeply affected the unity of the Romeic body:
• 325: Arianism
• 430: Nestorianism (Church of the East)
• 451: Monophysitism / Miaphysitism (Syriacs – Syriac Orthodox Church; Copts – Coptic Church)
• 685: Monothelitism (Maronites – Maronite Church)
After the Fourth Ecumenical Council of Chalcedon (451), the Levant was divided not only theologically, but also culturally and linguistically. In the western regions, the majority remained within the Romeic tradition—Orthodox and Greek-speaking. Yet in the east, communities developed that moved away doctrinally (Monophysitism, Syriacs or Jacobites – Syriac Orthodox Church), while also preserving their Aramaic linguistic identity.
The Fourth Ecumenical Council of Chalcedon was in truth a deep rupture that split the Levant. From that point onward, two distinct worlds took shape: in the west, the Romeic, Chalcedonian, and Orthodox world; in the east, another sphere, marked by an ethnic and linguistic character, expressed through the Syriac Monophysite tradition.
Two centuries later, the Sixth Ecumenical Council (685) brought about yet another division, this time within the western regions of the Levant, where a local ecclesiastical reality arose in the mountains of Lebanon that would eventually culminate in the Maronite Patriarchate.
Thus, the region that had once constituted a single Romeic and ecclesiastical body was fragmented. These schisms shaped new identities and established boundaries between the Romeic world and the seceded communities, with consequences that reach down to the present day.

The great emperors of Romanía—from Constantine and the Theodosians to Justinian, Maurice, and Heraclius—not only organized an immensely powerful state, but fashioned an entire world. In the Levant they gave form to a distinctly Christian polity: they restored and elevated cities (Jerusalem, Bethlehem, Damascus, as well as the so-called “forgotten cities” of Apamea), they built monastic centers that became great spiritual hearths (Saint Sabbas, Saint Catherine, Our Lady of Saidnaya), and they raised churches that expressed the faith as a public and collective reality [the Church of the Nativity, the Church of the Resurrection, the Church of Saint John the Baptist in Damascus (now the Umayyad Mosque), and others]. These were not isolated works, but a conscious transformation of space: the entire region was integrated into a unified Romeic and Orthodox civilization, in which city, church, and monastery together formed a single way of life.
Beirut was not merely a city of the Levant, but one of the most important intellectual and institutional centers of Romanía. Its School of Law, equal in stature to that of Constantinople, shaped Roman law and contributed decisively to the formation of Justinian’s Code.
At the same time, the Levant emerged as a womb of sanctity and theology. From it came forth great figures of our Church, such as Saint John Chrysostom, Saint Romanos the Melodist, Saint John of Damascus, Saint Sabbas, Saint Barbara, Saint Thekla, Saint Cosmas the Melodist, Bishop of Maiuma, Saint Isaac the Syrian, and many others—saints who left their seal upon the faith, theology, and worship of the Church.
Here it becomes abundantly clear that the Levant was not a mere periphery, but a living core of our homeland, producing law, discourse, and sanctity—in other words, civilization in its fullness.

Islam in the Levant

In the seventh century, the Levant underwent a radical rupture: the Arab Islamic invasion. This new power, emerging from the Arabian Peninsula, appeared precisely at the borders of Romanía and soon conquered the provinces of the Levant.
Islam did not arise in a vacuum, but within an environment already marked by various Christian and Jewish currents. It was influenced, among other things, by movements denying the divinity of Christ, such as Arianism, as well as by Judaeo-Christian communities such as the Nazarenes, who regarded Christ as one sent by God, but not as God.
The arrival of the Muslims was not received uniformly: the Monophysites, already estranged from Romanía, often viewed them favorably, whereas the Orthodox perceived them as a new heresy, as Saint John of Damascus characteristically formulates it in his writings. Thus, the Islamic conquest was not merely a political change, but a profound alteration of the religious and cultural map of the Levant.
The Treatment of Christians by the Muslims – The Status of the Dhimmi
Dhimmi were the non-Muslims who were permitted to live under Muslim rule, but in a condition of inferiority. The status of the dhimmi did not constitute civic equality, but rather an institutionalized form of tolerated subordination. Non-Muslim populations, and especially the Romeoi, were allowed to retain their faith, but only on condition that they would not display it publicly and would not challenge the supremacy of Islam.

The dhimmi had:
• the right to perform religious services, provided they did not disturb Muslims,
• the right to own property and work, with the exception of professions reserved exclusively for Muslims (politics, the judiciary, teaching),
• the obligation to pay the jizya (poll tax) in exchange for protection, along with a prohibition on participating in military action against Muslims,
• a prohibition on displaying religious symbols (crosses, icons), on wearing distinctively Christian dress, and on publicly exhibiting places of worship,
• a prohibition on audible prayer outside churches,
• a prohibition on bell-ringing,
• a prohibition on building or repairing churches without Muslim permission,
• a prohibition on the “proselytizing” of Muslims (that is, evangelization),
• a prohibition on marrying a Muslim woman,
• a prohibition on inheriting from Muslims,
• and, in certain historical periods, an obligation to wear distinguishing Christian clothing, a ban on riding horses and camels, and an obligation to walk to the left of a Muslim in public spaces.
The so-called “protected” communities possessed rights only within predetermined limits, and their position always depended on the will of the authorities and on historical circumstances. Thus, the system’s “tolerance” was not equality, but a regulated and revocable concession.

What Happened after the Arab-Muslim Occupation of the Levant?

• 630–640: Arab Islamic invasion of the Levant.
• 640–1920: A succession of invasions and manifold alienation through foreign cultural influences:
o Intense Arabization and Islamization (Umayyads, Abbasids, Fatimids, Mamluks): the Greek language was replaced by Arabic; the dhimmi system was enforced.
o Crusades: Latinization.
o Ottomans (after 1516): the Millet system.
After the Arab conquest of the seventh century, the Levant entered a long period of transformations and successive impositions, which deeply altered its original Romeic identity.
Gradually, Arabization and Islamization prevailed: Greek, which had been the language of civilization and faith, gave way to Arabic, and the Romeoi were reduced to the status of dhimmi. This was not merely political domination, but a profound cultural mutation.
Subsequently, the Crusades brought about a new external intervention with strongly Latin characteristics, seeking to redefine the region in Western terms foreign to the Romeic tradition.
Finally, under Ottoman rule, an administrative system was consolidated which did recognize the Romeoi as a religious community, but definitively incorporated them into a framework of subordination and separation (Rum milleti).
During the Ottoman occupation, the condition of the Romeoi of the Levant improved in part:
• they re-established contact with the other Romeoi of Asia Minor and the Balkans,
• they were integrated into the millet system under the guarantee of the Ecumenical Patriarchate, and
• they were allowed to repair or erect new churches, maintain certain schools, and so forth.

The Major Consequences of Long Muslim Rule (13 Centuries)

The age-long occupation of the Levant led to a deep and gradual alteration of identity.
Arabization distanced the Romeoi from their natural body. Their living bond with Constantinople weakened, the Greek language receded from daily life and was largely confined to worship, while even personal names were gradually replaced by Arabic ones, marking a deeper cultural displacement.
At the same time, Islamization was extensive. Through the social and institutional pressures of the dhimmi system, many were driven en masse to change their faith, especially in urban centers. Churches were converted into mosques, public Christian presence was curtailed, and education was weakened, since Christians generally had no schools of their own.

Western Intervention and the Russian Role

During the Ottoman period, the Levant became a field of rivalry among foreign powers. The state alliances of Ottomans and Franks gave the Papal Church a privileged position, and it undertook systematic penetration through its notorious instrument, the Propaganda Fide (Sacra Congregatio de Propaganda Fide). This was a mechanism of Rome for the worldwide expansion of Papism, coordinating missionaries, schools, printing presses, and every possible means.
Thus, the Holy Places were placed under French “protection” (for roughly one hundred years); the Maronites became Catholic (1580); and, tragically, fractures appeared even within the Romeic body itself, as happened in the schism of 1724. At that point the Romeic body was divided between those who remained Orthodox Romeoi and the Unionists (Melkite Catholics, also called Uniates, from Unia, “Union”), who entered into communion with Rome.
From the beginning of the nineteenth century onward, a strong Protestant factor was also added, with missions from Prussia, England, and America seeking to reshape the identity of the local populations, through agencies such as the Church Missionary Society (London) and the American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions (New England).
In addition, nationalism was imported from the West as a tool for weakening and fragmenting the Ottoman Empire (many Romeoi adopted Arab or Syrian nationalism).
Within this framework, Russia also appeared many times as a counterweight. From the seventeenth century onward, it developed relations with the Patriarchates and intervened in pursuit of the protection of the Orthodox. Although its policy did not avoid mistakes—indeed, serious ones—Russia, through its wars with the Ottoman Empire, its diplomatic activity, and its broader involvement, contributed to ending French protection over the Holy Places, to the relaxation of the restrictions of the dhimmi system, and in large measure supported the reconstruction of the ecclesiastical and educational life of the Romeoi of the Levant.
Thus, the region was transformed into a field of conflict between West and East, with the Romeoi standing at the center of this geopolitical and spiritual confrontation.
Today, after the schism of 1724, the Romeoi are divided into two religious communities: the Orthodox and the Catholics (Papists). Correspondingly, there are two Orthodox Patriarchates (Antioch and Jerusalem) and one Catholic Patriarchate, whose jurisdiction covers the territories of the Patriarchates of Alexandria, Antioch, and Jerusalem.
After all this, it is a great historical wonder that the hundreds of thousands of Orthodox Romeoi of the Levant endured and continue to this day proudly and luminously to declare and defend their identity. We all owe them much, and above all our undivided respect and support.
We shall, however, return to the Romeoi of the Levant.

See also

The Pious Genos of the Romeoi 

Book: My Sun Shall Not Fade – A Journey in the Romaian Legacy

The Romeoi (Rum) of the Levant: Identity and a Concise Historical Overview 

New Massacre of Romeoi in Damascus

Greek Orthodox (Romeoi/Rum) continue to be murdered in Syria! NIKI denounces the killing of two Romeoi in the Valley of the Christians and demands justice and protection for the Romeoi.  

When the Romeoi (Rum) are persecuted, does Greece merely “follow the situation”?

Greek MEP Aims to Break EU Silence Regarding Christian Persecution in Syria

Post-Liberalism: The West in Search of Romeosyne

THE ORTHODOX ROOTS OF THE WEST: A FACTOR FOR PAN-EUROPEAN UNITY

“The targeting of Christian liberty stems from a desire to erase distinct identities”—Christodoulos Molyvas, Greek NIKI Party

From Ancient Hellenic to Romeiko Civilization

Τρίτη 7 Απριλίου 2026

When the Romeoi (Rum) are persecuted, does Greece merely “follow the situation”?

 


Aγγλική μετάφραση του άρθρου Συρία: Ὅταν καταδιώκονται οἱ Ρωμηοί, ἡ Ἑλλάδα ἁπλῶς «παρακολουθεῖ»;, που δημοσιεύθηκε στην ιστοσελίδα της ΝΙΚΗΣ.

The violent events of the past days in Syria (27 March 2026), and especially in the city of al-Suqaylabiyah (Seleucia), where the Romeiko indigenous population predominates, leave absolutely no room for misinterpretation. Orthodox Romeoi (Rum) are being targeted by religiously motivated violence from fanatic elements, with barbaric and ruthless attacks against homes, property, and human lives.

Beyond the personal appeals for help voiced by many Romeoi—even addressed directly to Prime Minister Kyriakos Mitsotakis—which were posted on social media as cries of anguish, the harsh truth is also recorded by the very voice of the Church. The Greek Orthodox Patriarchate of Antioch, in a firm and unequivocal statement, does not speak of mere “incidents,” but of the incitement of religious tensions and calls for the protection of its faithful. This alone should suffice.

And yet, the Greek Government chose to respond with a weak, brief, and “formal” statement from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs—issued, notably, in English, so that the Greek people themselves might remain unaware—stating that it is following with concern the situation and takes into account the announcement of the Syrian Government regarding the investigation of the incidents, calling for its swift implementation.

A typical “following the situation”?

What exactly is it following? The gradual disappearance of the Orthodox presence in the East? The repetition of historical persecutions? The silent genocide of a living part of our Genos?

This stance is neither “composure” nor “diplomacy.” It is political absence, national indifference, and complete historical irresponsibility.

For the Romeoi of Syria are not “a foreign population” that it is merely desirable to protect. They are flesh of the flesh of our Genos. They are Seleucia. They are Antioch. They are the Romeiko Middle East. They are our historical heart. They are the living continuation of our homeland, Romanía (misleadingly and deceitfully termed “Byzantium”).

And there, today, severe violence is being inflicted.

Greece does not have the luxury to “follow the situation.” It has the duty to act.

It has the duty:
– to condemn clearly and unequivocally these attacks
– to bring to the forefront internationally the issue of the persecution of Orthodox Christians
– to demand security guarantees for these communities from the Syrian Government, even by attaching conditions to its funding by the European Union
– to actively support the Patriarchate of Antioch

And above all: to remember—and to re-examine—its identity.

For if Greece does not defend Romeosyne and the Romeoi throughout the world, and especially in the, in every respect, “sensitive” region of the Middle East, then it ceases to have any reason for existence as the historical and spiritual center of our Genos.

NIKI has consistently supported the Romeoi of the Middle East by bringing their problems to light in international forums, through Greek and foreign-language texts, through multiple parliamentary interventions, and through substantive proposals such as the granting of expatriate (homogeneis) status. We once again call upon the Government to truly support and protect our Romeoi brothers in Syria. We also call upon every Greek who feels a sense of responsibility toward our history, our culture, our heritage, and toward our afflicted brothers—with whom we share not only a common past but also a common future—to bring their endless martyrdom to light in every possible direction.

We will not abandon the Romeoi of the Middle East.
We will not grow accustomed to persecution.
We will not remain silent.

Romeosyne does not “follow the situation.”
Romeosyne resists.

Romeosyne Policy Department of NIKI

See also

The Pious Genos of the Romeoi

The Romeoi (Rum) of the Levant: Identity and a Concise Historical Overview 

New Massacre of Romeoi in Damascus

Greek Orthodox (Romeoi/Rum) continue to be murdered in Syria! NIKI denounces the killing of two Romeoi in the Valley of the Christians and demands justice and protection for the Romeoi.  

Post-Liberalism: The West in Search of Romeosyne

THE ORTHODOX ROOTS OF THE WEST: A FACTOR FOR PAN-EUROPEAN UNITY

“The targeting of Christian liberty stems from a desire to erase distinct identities”—Christodoulos Molyvas, Greek NIKI Party

From Ancient Hellenic to Romeiko Civilization

Σάββατο 28 Μαρτίου 2026

The Empty Table: Why Did the West Forget How to Live?

 


Democratic Patriotic Popular Movement NIKI 

ΕΛΛΗΝΙΚΑ: Το άδειο τραπέζι: Γιατί η Δύση ξέχασε πώς να ζει;

Walk through a beautiful neighborhood in Paris, Berlin, or Stockholm on a late afternoon. You will see spotless streets, manicured gardens, and expensive cars perfectly parked. But if you stop for a moment and close your eyes, then you will hear something terrifying: the silence.

Where did the voices go? Where are the children running until they scrape their knees? Where are the mothers shouting from balconies that dinner is ready? Our playgrounds look like museums—beautiful and modern, but empty. The West feels like a luxury house that has no life inside despite being the wealthiest region that world history has ever known.

We are constantly told that we can’t make ends meet: life is too expensive, rents are too high, and a child requires a mountain of money. Let’s stop looking at the numbers for a second and look at the photos of our grandparents. They raised entire generations through wars, displacement, and poverty that we can’t even imagine. Five children slept in one bed, they ate bread with oil and sugar for a treat, and clothes were passed from the big brother to the little one until they fell apart. And yet, those homes were overflowing with joy. Those homes had hope.

Today, we have full refrigerators but empty arms. We have huge TVs to watch other people’s lives because our own feelings are hollow. The problem isn’t our wallets. The problem is that we are afraid. We are afraid of losing our peace, afraid of missing our vacations, afraid of ruining our image. We have become slaves to comfort and forgotten that humans were made to share, not to accumulate.

There is a word in the Greek tradition — in Romeosyne — that the West has forgotten: the person.

Romeosyne is a term that describes the authentic identity of the modern Greek — a blend of our ancient heritage and our Orthodox tradition. It represents a way of life that is rooted in community, spiritual freedom, and the resilience of the soul against any form of oppression.

Today, our world sees us as units. We are a consumer, a tax ID number, an internet user. We live for ourselves. We want our space, our time, our rights. But in our tradition, being human means being in a relationship. It means sitting at the table and feeling that the food only tastes good if eaten with others. A child is not an expense in the monthly budget. A child is a person who came into the world to teach us what love really means. And love, real love, always costs something. It always requires sacrifice.

When we shut ourselves off to avoid fatigue, we eventually die of loneliness. The West is dying demographically because it died spiritually first. Because it believed that happiness means having no responsibilities. But ask any father and any mother: the exhaustion over a sick child’s bed has more meaning than a thousand nights in expensive hotels.

Don’t be scared by the word ascetic. We aren’t talking about monks on mountains. We are talking about the training our mothers did every day: eating last so there was enough for everyone. Staying up late to help a child study. Giving up a piece of themselves to give to another. This little bit that we cut from our ego is what makes life sweet. The West today has an allergy to difficulty. We want everything easy, fast, and painless. But the beautiful things in life — romance, friendship, family — require sweat. If we don’t get our hands dirty with soil, we won’t see the flower bloom.

The demographic crisis will only be solved when we stop worshipping our comfort. When we realize that a house with handprints on the walls is much more beautiful than a house that looks like a magazine page but is frozen cold.

In our tradition, we always had a saying for hard times: God will provide. This was not laziness. It was a deep trust in life itself. Today, we want everything guaranteed before we take the first step. We want insurance, savings, contracts. But life does not sign contracts. Life is a leap of faith. When we stop believing in something bigger than ourselves, everything looks like an insurmountable mountain. But if we believe that life is a gift, then we find the strength to move forward. A child brings a blessing that cannot be measured in euros. It brings light, a future, and the hope that death will not have the last word.

We are speaking to the ordinary people of the West, to the workers, the employees, the young dreamers. Don’t let them convince you that being alone is freedom. It is a prison. Open your homes. Open your hearts. Don’t fear responsibility; it is the only thing that makes real men and women. The void in Europe will not be filled with money; it will be filled with people who dare to love more than they calculate.

Let’s bring the noise back to our neighborhoods. Let’s put an extra plate on the table. Because at the end of the day, what remains is not what we bought, but who we held close.

What we also need is philotimo or love of honor. It is a deep sense of duty, selfless sacrifice, and doing what is right for others and for one’s country, without expecting anything in return. It is the nobility of the heart. The West needs that Romeosyne, it needs that philotimo—that unique sense of honor and sacrifice—and that joy that cannot be bought. Only then will our world become alive again.

Christodoulos Molyvas
Head of the Development and Investment Policy Department of NIKI

See also

Post-Liberalism: The West in Search of Romeosyne

THE ORTHODOX ROOTS OF THE WEST: A FACTOR FOR PAN-EUROPEAN UNITY

“The targeting of Christian liberty stems from a desire to erase distinct identities”—Christodoulos Molyvas, Greek NIKI Party

Τρίτη 10 Μαρτίου 2026

Hypatia of Alexandria as a symbol: sometimes as a “martyr of science,” sometimes as a pretext for sweeping condemnations of the Church

 

Nektarios, Orthodox Metropolitan of Hong Kong and South East Asia since 2008

ΕΛΛΗΝΙΚΑ: Υπατία η Αλεξανδρινή & Ημέρα της Γυναίκας

Hypatia of Alexandria is presented every 8th of March as a symbol: sometimes as a “martyr of science,” sometimes as a pretext for sweeping condemnations of the Church. Yet beyond fixed ideas and myths, who was Hypatia—and what is the truth about her horrific death according to the historical sources?
The historical Hypatia (late 4th–early 5th century) was a distinguished philosopher in Alexandria, the daughter of the mathematician Theon. She is associated with the Neoplatonic tradition and appears to have taught mathematics and philosophy to a circle of students that included Christians. A characteristic case is Synesius of Cyrene, who later became a bishop and who, in his letters, speaks with respect of his teacher and of her role as a trusted adviser.
As for her written or scientific work, we know less than some people on social media often claim: none of her works have survived, and the picture that emerges from modern scholarship is that her contribution was primarily pedagogical and interpretive, through commentaries and explanations of the Hellenistic mathematical and astronomical tradition. This does not diminish her; in that period, teaching and the formation of students were a central way of practising philosophy.
 
Her horrific death in 415 CE is described by Socrates Scholasticus, a Christian historian close to the events, who in fact presents the killing as something that disgraced the city and brought shame. According to this account, Hypatia was murdered by a mob amid a climate of political conflict: she had a close relationship with the prefect Orestes, and some believed she was “preventing” reconciliation between Orestes and Bishop Cyril. Alexandria was a city with frequent outbreaks of violence and mob rule, where crowds at different moments turned against different targets—even against bishops, such as George and Proterius. This does not make the crime any less abhorrent, but it helps us see that the context was profoundly political and social.
Still, caution is needed regarding a claim that is often repeated: the historical sources do not provide documented evidence of an explicit “order” by Cyril to have Hypatia killed. In several modern retellings Cyril appears as the direct organizer, but this does not follow clearly from the main testimonies about the events. Moreover, more recent scholarship mentions that on the day the crime occurred Cyril was not in the city. In any case, there does not seem to be any record of an official charge or procedure that would make him personally responsible for the murder. This does not erase the violent climate and the conflicts of the period; it simply keeps us away from hasty conclusions that are not adequately supported by the sources.
 
The figure responsible for Hypatia’s “second career” in the modern public sphere is the English scholar John Toland. At the dawn of the Enlightenment, he used Hypatia less as the subject of a calm historical reconstruction and more as a rhetorical example serving a specific narrative: that free thought, classical learning, and philosophical discussion can be crushed when religious authority becomes a political force and fuels intolerance. In his work Hypatia (1720) he describes her as exemplary in virtue, modest, and exceptionally learned, so that she functions as an “innocent martyr” of reason, while at the same time he shifts the center of the story to the violence of the clergy and the Alexandrian mob. Thus Hypatia’s story becomes a tool of early Enlightenment polemic in favor of toleration and against ecclesiastical influence: an event from late antiquity is reshaped into a didactic example for the dilemmas of his own time, with more absolute contrasts and with far less historical reliability.
Voltaire builds on this early Enlightenment use of Hypatia and makes it even more effective for his audience: he takes an episode from late antiquity and turns it into a clear illustration of the conflict between intellectual cultivation and the fanaticism produced when religious authority and political power intertwine. Where Toland has already “staged” Hypatia as a virtuous, modest, and highly educated figure to support the argument for toleration, Voltaire incorporates her story into a broader program of critique against intolerance and ecclesiastical influence, aiming to provoke moral outrage and to strengthen the Enlightenment demand for reason, moderation, and freedom of thought. In this way Hypatia—who in the ancient sources appears bound up with the political rivalries of Alexandria—moves into the modern public sphere as an emblematic “case”: less a complex historical personality and more a symbol of the Enlightenment’s confrontation with intolerance and dogmatism.
Finally, it is worth remembering that the modern image of Hypatia has been loaded with the desires and symbols of other eras: she is often presented as a “proto-feminist,” as a “martyr of rationality,” or as a pioneering scientist credited with discoveries that are not documented. The historical Hypatia, however, is already significant enough without turning her into a character made to fit our contemporary slogans. If we want to honor her, we should do so with respect for the evidence: as a remarkable teacher and intellectual who was caught in a struggle for power, in a city where mob violence could destroy lives—and where history is more complex than a convenient myth.
 
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