FOR the second year running, Bishop Neophytos of Morphou last week led the faithful in vespers and liturgy to mark the feast day of Saint Mamas at his church in occupied Morphou.
Again he came under attack for doing so, his critics arguing that he gives legitimacy to the regime in the north by leading services in a part of his diocese that remains under occupation.
Should these same people not also by the same logic criticise the enclaved for living under occupation, for collaborating with illegitimate authorities from whom they buy water and electricity and to whom they undoubtedly pay taxes?
Yet they are upheld as heroic standard-bearers, keeping Hellenism alive through the darkest times in our history.
Most extraordinary though are the attacks from members of the Church itself, spearheaded by the Bishop of Paphos. Surely the message of Christianity is not that you can only preach when the conditions for doing so are perfect? Had it been so, Christ’s message would never have spread through a hostile ancient world.
Surely, if a priest is allowed to pray, to lead a service in a church, it is his duty to do so, whatever the prevailing conditions he may find.
Do the critics honestly prefer the sight of desecrated churches, defaced with graffiti or turned into goat pens, to the prospect of bells once again ringing in ancestral homelands? Is a degree of compromise not allowing us to build on what the enclaved have doggedly achieved, ensuring that our memory is not forever eradicated from lands that carry such importance to us all?
A joy to behold
CONGRATULATIONS to the organisers of The Earth from Above, the exhibition of aerial photographs of our planet by Yann Arthus-Bertrand.
Even before the exhibition is formally opened, the giant pictures spreading along the capital’s pedestrian areas have been attracting passers-by like nothing ever before. Clusters of people can be seen staring at the stunning photographs, reading the detailed captions that cast a sobering light on what we have done to our Earth; young and old, Greek and Turkish Cypriots, foreign workers, all have found themselves irresistibly drawn by the extraordinary gaze cast on our world by the French photographer.
How much more potent the message, exposed thus on our streets, than it would have been cloistered away in a gallery, where barely a handful of people would have come to see the exhibition.
Art is so often elitist; what a joy to see it bring people together of all colour, class and creed on the streets of our capital.
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