The Dancer, the Monk, the Saint, the King, the Patriarch, the Princess, and the Billionaire
This story was never meant to be made public. But I received permission finally to go ahead. The main person this story is about was a humble Greek Orthodox monk living in Israel. This story spans 8 decades from Greece to Canada, to Greece to Canada to New York, to Greece, to Belgium, to Switzerland, to France, to Israel, to Canada, to Greece, to California, to France to Cyprus. I am now 66 years old but have touched 8 decades. You do the math: eight decades of conscious living 50s, 60, 70s, 80s, 90s, 00s, 2010s, and 2020s.
Isolated experiences connected by a mysterious thread that is still winding its way through the lives of each one still living. The purpose is not known and may not ever be understood fully; if there is a purpose at all. This series of events all began in 1951 in Jerusalem when a Greek orthodox monk (Father Theodosius) saved the life of a young Muslim Prince (the future King of Jordan). This seminal event created a chain of events that still reverberates to the present day.
Father Theodosius was the spiritual father and resident priest at the monastery for women, Saints Mary and Martha, Sisters of Lazarus in Bethany, a suburb of Jerusalem.
Father Theodosius Makkos
In the year 1951, Father Theodosius was escorting King Abdullah of Jordan and young Prince Hussein on their visit to Jerusalem. They were about to enter the Al Aksa Mosque when suddenly, two assassins appeared and fired multiple times at the King and at the Prince.
King Abdullah died immediately from multiple bullet wounds. The bullet that struck the young prince was stopped by a commemorative medal that his uncle King Abdullah just happened to pin on his jacket that morning. Father Theodosius upon seeing the King being shot dead, quickly and without fear for his own safety took the prince under his robes and whisked him away to safety.
What happened next is shrouded in mystery. Some say the young prince was immediately returned to Jordan. Father Theodosius claimed the prince stayed with him for many months, so he had time to teach him how to stay safe. King Hussein survived over 16 assasination attemps without a scratch. If he did indeed stay in the monastery for a year, this may explain the lifelong bond the King Hussein had with Father Theodosios.
Prince Hussein became King of Jordan a couple of years later at age 17 and remained close friends throughout his life with Father Theodosius visiting him often. Theodosius refused many times to be promoted to the position of a bishop and preferred to remain in the rank of archimandrite at the Monastery of the Sisters of Lazarus in Bethany until his death in 1991. The Royal family of King Hussein honour the memory of Father Theodosius by repeating this story at every opportunity; Her Majesty, Queen Noor, widow of the late King Hussein of Jordan spoke about Father Theodosius in a meeting with Chicago Greek Americans recently.
The strange thing about this story is that King Hussein never mentioned meeting Father Theodosios in his autobiography.
Bishop Demetri and Queen Noor
The full story of Queen Noor’s visit to Chicago:
Meeting Theodosios
I had the good fortune to meet Father Theodosius Makkos in 1979 in Jerusalem. Father Theodosius was not your ordinary monk. He was one of these rare individuals that exuded pure love. It poured out of his eyes and every move he made. He spoke very softly and deliberately and listened so deeply that he made everyone feel special; no matter what they were saying to him or who they were or what they believed. Despite practicing a very strict ascetic Greek orthodox way of life, he was loved by all that had the privilege to meet him. I met him on a short visit to the monastery in Bethany while on the way to the north of Israel. That brief meeting and hearing the story of how he saved the life of the young Muslim Prince made a huge impression on me. Our paths would wouldn’t cross again until the election of the new Patriarch in 1980.
Fateful Trip in Cyprus
It is no coincidence that fate has brought me to Cyprus in my quest to support and expand the awareness about the health benefits of high phenolic olive oil. I came here to Cyprus because the highest ever recorded phenolic content in olive oil was produced here at the Atsas Organic Farm located in the green line opposite the village Petra illegally occupied by Turkey since 1974. From the first moment, I set foot in Cyprus to begin my personal olive oil Odyssey I was taken to St. Nicholas monastery in Orounta a few kilometres away from Atsas farm for Sunday service. This was the birthplace of Saint Philoumenos. who was martyred while he was the Igumen at the Greek orthodox monastery at Jacobs well church in Nablus, Israel.
I lived in Israel during this time.
But when I met the nuns at the St. Nicholas monastery they asked me if I remembered him. At first, I did not remember him at all. Then I read the book that was written about him and still I struggled to remember him. I know I visited Jacob’s Well but did not recollect the man I saw in the pictures in the book.
That period in my life is a bit of a haze. I was so focused on dance I was not interested in details of my surroundings or daily life. Back then, the only time I felt comfortable was when I was on the stage or in class rehearsing and training. I was fully immersed in the sensory experience of life and there was not much room left for paying attention to the people around me. My life was very simple. I had 3 concerns on a daily basis. Where do I sleep tonite? What do I eat, and where can a study, rehearse or perform? Sometimes I would end up performing on the streets of Jerusalem. If the whole world is a mere stage and were are mere actors than we can be dancers as well. I did not pay much attention to what was going on around me.
I visited the St. Nicholas monastery a second time and met with the Hegumeness of the monastery who was also the author of the book. She was interested to know the atmosphere in Jerusalem around that time. She told me a story about her last trip to Jerusalem to find people who knew Saint Philoumenos. He was known for his extreme humility. Very few people remembered him. So, no one was surprised when I first said I did not remember him either. While in Bethlehem, her guide saw someone coming down the road and suddenly he got up. “Father Narkissos please join us” the guide called out. Upon hearing the name Narkissos my long forgotten memories began to flood in.
Not only did I know Father Narkissos but I lived in the Monastery of the Holy Cross in Jerusalem for a couple of years where Father Narkissos was the Hegumen. I was there for security. There was no phone and if anything happened it was my job to run to the telephone booth a few hundred yards away and call for help. That is when I remembered meeting Philoumenos once when I visited the monastery at Jacob’s well with father Narkissos… I finally remembered that fateful meeting.
As Father Narkissos and I we walked into the church, we found Saint Philoumenos standing in front of the well. As soon as he saw us he began to walk backwards with his arms stretched in front of him in a welcoming jesture. It was a rather unusual movement. Normally the priest would walk forward to meet visitors. This movement backwards was what I remembered. This movement was an embodied expression of humility; allowing the visitors to have an experience with the Jacob’s Well and the church before greeting us, instead of placing himself in the middle.
This recovered memory impressed the Hegumen and she and her assistant interviewed me so they would have a record of my recollections. The interview was recorded and was going to be used to describe the atmosphere in Jerusalem and the West Bank at the time of Saint Philoumenos martyrdom.
A couple of weeks later, during our conference at the University of Nicosia, I organized a bus to take the participants to a couple of olive groves. But when I saw St. Nicholas Monastery was very close to the other olive groves, I told the bus driver to make a stop at monastery. A busload of scientists and olive growers and a number of others in cars arrived unnounced. The nuns immediately sprung into action as if they expected us. They were very accommodating and in record time they served coffee and cake for everyone. Then the Hegumen got up to speak about Saint Philoumenos. She spoke a little bit and I translated. But then she asked me to tell the story of how I met Saint Philoumenos and Father Narkissos in Jerusalem. Everyone was surprised to hear the story of me and Saint Philoumenos during our visit to a monastery that was not even a scheduled stop. Everyone assumed it was planned.
I was the guest of honor and could do no wrong because I was the only one they knew that actually met Saint Philoumenos. The Hegumen suggested I call Father Narkissos in Beit Jala, but I was too busy. I later found out that Father Narkissos passed away that day April 28, 2018.
The strange thing about this story is on his death notice his tenure at the monastery of the Holy Cross is not mentioned.
“He was ordained a Deacon and a Priest and ministered at all the shrines or pastoral ministries he was appointed with devotion and zeal. He served at the shrines of the Basilica of Bethlehem, Kana of Galilee, the Shepherds Fields, at the Patriarchate’s Metropolis in Amman, as the Hegoumen of the Holy Monastery of St. George Al Hader, of Prophet Elijah, as the President of the Real Estate Committee, and for the last fifteen years as the Hegoumen of the Community in Beit Jalla. He conveyed to the clergy and the members of the Community the order and tradition of the Typikon of the Orthodox Church, the solemnity of the Church Services, the love of the decency of the House of God, while he lived at the Tower of Joassaph the Hagiotaphite in Beit Sahour, preserving and refurbishing it.”
Dancing: Brussels to Jerusalem
I lived in Jerusalem from 1978–1982 studying dance and performing. I moved to Israel after I met the legendary dance educator Flora Cushman. She came to teach at Maurice Bejart’s total theatre and dance school in Brussels called Mudra. I was there on a full scholarship studying to be a dancer after discovering dance very late in life at age 18. I was accepted at age 20 after a long and arduous audition process in New York in the summer of 1977. Flora was one Bejart’s favourite teachers of modern dance. She taught the original method of Martha Graham technique. It was brutal. If you think ballet is hard try the old school Graham technique. But there was something about Flora that made the pain of molding my aged body to look like a ballet dancers. At times it was even more than bearable; it became pleasureful. She had a way of transmitting her love of dance that was mesmerizing. Singing, clapping and dancing along with us.
I decided I wanted to continue my studies with her and dance for her company in Jerusalem. Flora thought I was crazy and urged me not to go to Jerusalem. One of her male dancers was visiting Brussels as well with his girlfriend and they stayed at my apartment. They invited me to come hitchike with them to Switzerland… in the middle of the worst snowstorm in recent memory..
I told the Artistic Director of the school my father was sick and I ran away from the school in Brussels hitchiking to Switzerland then to Paris to take part in the open auditions for Bejart’s company! Then I returned tot he school and shortly after bought one way ticket to Israel in the spring of 1978.
Flora did not return to Israel for a few months and I continued training with members of her company while I was waiting for her return.
Upon her return to Jerusalem a few months later, I began taking classes with Flora in a community dance studio in Jerusalem. This community dance studio was just below the Israel Museum and the Knesset (Israel’s parliament buildings). On my way to take classes with her I would pass this castle made of stone and was 200 metres away from the dance studio. It had a cross on top of what looked like a church dome inside the walls. It looked abandoned. I never thought twice about it as I passed in front of it every day on my way to rehearsals.
But then about a year later I became curious because I was learning about the history of Jerusalem and the many archaeology digs in and around the old city walls. I asked what religion it belonged to. They told me it was a Greek monastery and there was a priest living there. I was surprised to find out there was a functioning Greek orthodox monastery right next door this whole time that I had completely overlooked. This is how much of a tunnel vision I had. Dance had completely taken over my life and my psyche. After finally performing on a large stage and having some success, my eyes began to open to the world around me once again. My curiosity grew about my surroundings.
One afternoon I walked up to the metal door and knocked. It was about 4pm and there was no answer. Finally, a head popped over the wall with a beard and with a gnarly voice shouted to me to stop making so much noise. I said I heard it was a Greek monastery and was curious to see it from inside. “Go away he said you woke me up” he yelled from above. “Okay I am sorry will come back tomorrow” I said, and went to walk away. He then shouted: “ok! wait a minute.” He came down opened the door and let me inside.
There it was destiny staring me in the eyes. This was Father Narkissos the Igumen of the Monastery of the Holy Cross. He showed me around the enormous castle and explained the history. This was where the tree the cross Jesus was crucified on was cut from. The only people who lived there was Father Narkiss and a nun and a little wire haired Jack Russell. He made me some coffee and seeing me eat half a cake offered me some of his leftover lunch of lamb stew. I was in heaven.
Up until then I was living on a thousand ways to cook rice; I would make it with curry, with yogurt, with vegetables anything I could find to add some flavour. I was living on a small monthly budget of $200 I saved for my studies. Father Narkissos invited me to come over whenever I was hungry; he always had a lot of leftovers. This was music to my ears. Over the next few months I would visit often. I would make sure there were never any leftover food again. Food was a major concern for me in Jerusalem because I trained so many hours a day and had so little money left over for food. I remembered always being hungry.
Then one day in December of 1979 Father Narkissos became concerned about his safety and security. He told me a priest had been killed and he was concerned about his own safety. The nearest phone was 200 metres away. I used to go to the monastery to eat and leave quickly and we talked about history of Jerusalem and the Church mostly. He told me there was no phone in the monastery. “What if something happened?” he asked. I told him nothing would happen… there were some incidents on Saturdays where young Israeli version of boy scouts would walk by the monastery and throw rocks at the door at noon and wake him up. The monastery was in the middle of the Israeli section of Jerusalem right below the Knesset which i the Israeli Parliament building. For some right wing religious fanatics, it must have been an eye sore to see this Christian monastery in an upscale exclusively Jewish neighbourhood.
He asked me where I was living. I told him I was looking for new place because I got a job and I could afford to have a place of my own. I was working gardening alongside Palestinian workers in the morning 5am to 8am. It was perfect job for me because I used it to warm up by doing physical labour but was careful not to be seen doing stretches and dance moves while I cleaned the gardens. I only did my stretches in the garden between 5–6am because it was till dark and no one was around. I would then continue cleaning the gardens and then go to my classes and rehearsals at 9am.
Father Narkissos then asked me if I was interested in living in the monastery. Sure, I said jokingly if I did not have to go to church every Sunday or wear the black robes. Then he told me he needed someone for security and had asked the Patriarch if I could stay there and I was given permission to live there, eat 3 meals a day and pay no rent as a security guard! My job was to run to the telephone booth 200 yards away and call for help if anything happened. “What could happen?” I thought to myself. The Jerusalem theatre was less than a kilometre away my rehearsal space was less than 300 yards away and I could come home for lunch; this was a dream come true.
I kept my gardening job and for the first time since I left Canada 2 years earlier had money left over for travel and commerce. I started buying ancient silver coins with Alexander the Great on them and handmade antique silver jewelry from a Palestinian trader in the West Bank and Beduins near the Dead Sea, and taking them to Greece or Canada and selling them. I used to buy them at a slightly higher price than their weight in silver. It paid for my travel to Greece and a couple of trips back to Canada. Some of them were fakes but there were some good ones here and there.
So, when I heard the name Narkissos my ears perked up as the nun told the story of searching for people who knew Saint Philoumenos. Narkissos was asked if he remembered Saint Philoumenos he said: “how can I forget him? Let me tell you the story!” he said as he sat down. He went on to recount his experience; when father Philoumenos was given the position at Jacobs Well monastery Father Narkissos was very upset and went to the Patriarch to complain. The Patriarch had promised that position to Father Narkissos. The Patriarch said: “I don’t know what happened” he said. The position was supposed to go to Father Narkiss; “but what is done is done” he said. “god works in mysterious ways” he added. A few months later Father Philoumenos lay dead in the church floor cut to pieces by an Israeli settler who killed him in his own Church.
That is the moment I realised the martyrdom of Philoumenos not only saved the life of father Narkiss by taking his place as Hegumen at Jacobs Well but also provided me with a place to live right beside my rehearsal space and with 3 meals a day.
I was stunned at hearing this story from a nun in a monastery in Cyprus about my past life in Jerusalem. I thought I was here for olive oil. But the Israel and Cyprus connection did not stop there. This was just the beginning.
What was about to happen next would tear the fabric of my reality, peel back my present experiences and bring to the forefront Jerusalem once again.
What I am about to reveal next is a story that has never been told. But perhaps god has a plan even for this. Otherwise why am I here? For olive oil? Is this just a weird coincidence? Why Cyprus? Why now?
This is where it got really interesting…
Cyprus my Home
I came to Cyprus, because my partner Marilyn Harding needed to manufacture a new analytical tool to analyze olive oil samples easily and quickly. There was no company she could find in Greece to manufacture but one was found in Cyprus. Marilyn incorporated the company Aristoleo Ltd. in Cyprus to manufacture there. This was in the summer of 2015 during the banking crisis in Greece so she had no other choice. It was not her first choice. She would have preferred to incorporate in Greece but the banks were closed and there was no company able to manufacture her patented Aristoleo test Kit. Then in 2016 Aristoleo Test Kit was awarded 1st prize in the yearly EUROBANK Innovation awards. Later that year Aristoleo received approval to be part of a 5 country 3year study ARISTOIL Interreg MED programme. The goal was to develop and verify new analytical tools. It also involved research and educating the olive growers on the best practices to produce high phenolic olive oil. This new type of olive oil with a health claim has enhanced health benefits. We expect this to increase the competitiveness of these high phenolic olives oils and achieve higher prices. Aristoleo Ltd represents Cyprus in the ARISTOIL program. In Dec 2016 I was appointed as the manager on behalf of Aristoleo Ltd. and became a tax resident of Cyprus.
We organized our annual Aristoleo Awards high phenolic competition in Cyprus and began preparations for the conference we called “Beyond Organic Beyond Extra Virgin.” We chose to name it beyond organic because of the regenerative agriculture principles used in olive grove management and Beyond Extra Virgin. We were following the research of high phenolic content for its enhanced health benefits. This was the new category of olive oil that was created with the EU 432/2012 health claim labelling regulation. Marilyn while doing some research read about HRH Princess Basma Bint Ali of Jordan and the Royal Gardens she founded using regenerative agriculture practices — these were the same methods implemented in olive grove management that Nicolas Netien applied on Atsas Farm that yielded the world record shattering phenolic content in olive oil. Marilyn said she would invite her to come to Cyprus for the conference. Marilyn sent off an email to her foundation and began a correspondence with her office. It was a novel idea and it had some potential for success, I thought; you never know.
I remembered the story of Father Theodosios and the King Hussein and thought how interesting if I was to finally meet a member of the Royal family of Jordan…
As the date for the conference drew near we received a positive response from HRH Basma to our request she would love to attend but unfortunately her schedule did not permit it. But she did take the time to make a video presenting the double gold Aristoleo Award to Atsas Farm. This was the highlight of the conference.
So again, here I was in Cyprus hosting the visit of HRH Princess Basma Bint Ali of Jordan presenting the Aristoleo Award via video at our conference. This was not just a series of random coincidences there was something else at work here.
This is where my life and the lives of Father Theodosius, Father Narkissos, Saint Philoumenos, King Hussein of Jordan, HRH Princess Basma bint Ali, and the future Patriarch of Jerusalem became intertwined decades earlier in Jerusalem.
Jerusalem 1980
Back in Jerusalem, the Patriarch Benedictus passed away and a new one had to be elected. There were 3 main candidates for the position and they became deadlocked. Every day they would convene and every day arguments would break out and even some physical confrontations would take place between the 3 Bishops supporters. Cameras would capture images of priests shoving and pushing each other in broad daylight outside the Holy Sepulchre church. Every day, it seemed to get worse with no end in sight.
The Bishop of Amman, Jordan was favoured but he could not gather enough votes. One day I overheard a conversation between some priests who were lamenting the fact the King of Jordan could not give his blessing to the Bishop from Amman. They said the Israeli government had told King Hussein to stay out of the elections. The Israelis had a candidate they wanted to see become Patriarch and knew that if King Hussein endorsed the bishop of Amman it would break the deadlock and he would be elected the new Patriarch. King Hussein was greatly respected and his recommendation in favour of the bishop from Amman would sway the voting in his favour. But King Hussein did not want to get on the bad side of the Israeli government so he stayed out of it.
When I heard this I immediately took Father Narkissos aside and told him I have an idea. What if Father Theodosius was to write a letter to King Hussein personally asking the King for a favour to intervene and give his blessing to the Bishop from Amman? Do you think the King would deny this request from the man he regarded as his father and still stayed in contact and respected and honoured him for saving his life 30 years earlier?”
He looked at me funny because I usually just observed and did not speak much. A few days later he told me to pack my bags we are going to meet to the King. “Would you like to come with me to deliver the letter to King Hussein?” I said: “Sure let’s go. But I have a performance so I must be back by Saturday.” Father Theodosius did write the letter asking King Hussein to intervene but I could not cross the border into Jordan to help deliver the letter because it was closed to civilians. The priests had diplomatic status and could travel to Jordan at the Allenby bridge. I missed my chance to meet King Hussein. But here I was now in Cyprus 37 years later watching HRH Princess Basma on video so gracefully supporting our conference by presenting the award for high phenolic EVOO to Atsas farm. The following year 2018 she actually showed up to speak and present the Aristoleo Awards. We spent quite a bit of time together and I had a chance to tell her my story living at the Monastery of the Holy Cross. She urged me to finish the book. For that I would need to look backwards while moving forwards. This was not something I could easily accomplish. I prefer living in my reality instead of stopping to look bachwards at it and write about it. But nevertheless when a princess suggests you finish the book… well, I at least have to try.
King Hussein agreed to write the letter despite being cautioned by Israel not to interfere with the elections he could not deny the request made by his old friend Father Theodosius. The letter of recommendation was brought back to Jerusalem and presented to the synod. The deadlock was broken and the bishop from Amman Jordan was elected and became Patriarch Diodoros of Jerusalem. Patriarch Diodoros passed away in 2000 after a tumultuous reign of 20 years. Better choice than the other candidates but far from what he seemed to be.
King Hussein of Jordan passed away a year earlier in 1999. A new Patriarch was elected — Patriarch Irineos. But with the absence of King Hussein’s diplomatic abilities and experience the Patriarchate was at the mercy of Israeli interference and intrigue. Irineos was personally attacked by false accusations and was dethroned in 2005 in a controversial decision. It was based on false charges that patriarch Irineos sold church property to right wing extremist Israeli settlers. He was accused of selling several parcels of church-owned land in the Old City of Jerusalem to Israeli developers. The Palestinian authority set up a commission to investigate the matter.
As most of the Orthodox Christians in the area are Palestinian, and the land was in an Arab-populated area that most Palestinians hoped would become as a part of a future Palestinian capital, these accusations caused a great deal of concern among Church members. On March 19, 2005, the Palestinian Authority formed a commission to investigate these allegations.
After a thorough investigation by the commission, the commission exonerated Patriarch Irineos and concluded that the accusations made against him were “A very well calculated plan … schemed by a number of clerics opposing Irineos in collaboration with Israeli Extreme Right Wingers. Their interest converged in the aim of getting rid of Irineos step by step.” The report also concluded that “In accordance with the applicable law in East Jerusalem, Patriarch Irineos is still the legitimate Patriarch enjoying full powers.”[1]
The Full commissions reports findings: https://www.scribd.com/document/110464261/Palestinian-Commission-Report-EN
Despite the commissions’ decision Patriarch Irineos was dethroned because Israel refused to ratify his election. The elections were redone in 2005 — Patriarch Theofilos was crowned unanimously to take his place and who is still the Patriarch to this day.
Patriarch Theophilos has been selling church owned land to mysterious holding companies based in tax havens under the excuse that he is trying to raise capital to buy back the property that Irineos was accused of selling, but the money that was supposed to pay for the property was never received by the Greek Orthodox Patriarchate. How can the Patriarch be raising money for something that is not owed. He recently sold the land surrounding the Monastery of the Holy Cross. This is some of the most valuable land holdings. The Israel parliament buildings and the presidential palace was built on this Church owned land.
https://www.middleeasteye.net/news/jerusalem-orthodox-church-property-israeli-settlers
The Greek tragedy continues…
