With yet another visitor in Athens (I swear I’m the most active non-listed Athenian AirBnB), I had cause a couple of weeks ago to take a little day trip to Aegina, one of the islands closest to the port.
Aegina is a precious place for many reasons. It has one of the most famous ancient temples on its highest peak. There are many lovely seaside villages and a great main port. It’s famous for its pistachio crop so you can find stores all over the island selling a variety of pistachio products, as well as little old Greek men selling the straight thing from the trunk of their cars. Plus the ferry ride is only an hour. I recommend anyone who is in Athens for a bit see it.
But for me, Aegina is more than that. It’s not just a fun day trip. It’s a piece of my heart. I feel very connected to this little Saronic rock. For it’s Aegina, or rather what’s on Aegina, that I believe brought me back to Greece.
Some important context (you’ll see why this is important later on):
- I was raised Baptist for most of my life.
- Yes, that was Baptist in Texas… take that for what you will.
- I converted to Orthodoxy informally when I was 16, formally when I was 18.
- Though this was the best decision for me and I am dedicated to my faith, it can still be hard for me to take at face-value everything my 100% Greek, devout Orthodox born-and-raised godmother tells me.
So moving on then…
When I studied in Athens, my friends and I decided to take a day trip to an island on a whim. Aegina was chosen at random. It was beautiful and simple and I loved it immediately.
When my parents visited me that same semester, we had intentions to go to Hydra for a day, but unfortunately missed the ferry. So we ended up at Aegina. It was lovely and breezy and I loved it even more.
Fast forward to me coming home for the summer and telling my godmother about these two trips. Her immediate response, in all seriousness and with zero hint of humor, “Well Saint Nektarios must have been calling to you. Did you go see him?” I had to laugh and ask “Who?” I should really be careful about asking such questions as they’re bound to bring more information than I was ever expecting.
Long story short, Nektarios is a very important saint for healing (both physical and spiritual) and guidance in the Orthodox Church. He has a very devoted following and as such one of the largest monasteries in the Balkans is on Aegina and dedicated to his honor. His holy remains have found their final resting place in a tomb near the church. The story goes that if you say your prayer and then place your ear to the tomb, you will hear the whisper of his holy words.
I will be completely honest that when she first told me this, I didn’t believe a word. It all seemed a little too far-fetched for me and I chalked it up to Greek superstition.
Fast forward again to December of my senior year in university. I was experiencing what can only be described as a small crisis. School was trying, my future was hazy, and I found myself in a perpetual attitude that was very unlike my usual self. I decided I needed to clear my head and, again on a whim, I decided to browse plane tickets. And what do you know, tickets to Athens were on sale and lined up with a holiday I would be having from school in February.
I booked without a second thought and two months later I was on a plane with a friend headed back to this alternative home I had found for myself. I cried when the plane landed.
And I went to Aegina.
With my godmother’s words from Christmas ringing in my ears (“You’re going back? I told you! I told you Nektarios was calling to you. He has something to tell you! You have to go to him”), my friend and I got in a taxi and went to the monastery as soon as we docked on the little island. I wasn’t sure what I would find, and in truth I probably expected nothing. I remember telling my friend “sorry for dragging you to a monastery but my godmother told me I have to go.”
What I did find surprised me. The beauty of the monastery itself, as well as the view of the landscape it provides, is indescribable. The sound of the bells and indeed the sound of the silence when the bells cease are subtly powerful. I said my prayer and I sat at the tomb. I can’t say whether I heard whispers; certainly I heard no discernable words; but I was overcome with an overwhelming sense of peace that I hadn’t felt in what seemed like ages. My entire presence there felt right.
After I returned from the trip, I decided I wanted to move back to Greece. I wasn’t sure what I would do there yet, and I wasn’t sure if it would work, but I knew I had to try. Something about the risk didn’t seem risky at all; in fact, it seemed right. I started doing everything I could to try and get myself back. I hit some roadblocks, sure… but they eventually all fell away and I ultimately found a way to arrive and settle in with relative ease. The pieces simply fell into place. Maybe it was sheer will, maybe it was luck, but just maybe, it was Nektarios… I’d like to think so. And really, even if it was just the idea of him, it brought me peace and it brought me a path.
I have since been back and thanked him. I think I heard him whisper “you should listen to your godmother more.”
An Unlikely Compendium 