Religion: The Nylon Patriarch

The day after Pearl Harbor, tall, grizzle-bearded Aristocles Spyrou tried to join the U.S. Army. But he was turned down as too old (56) and so he went back to his duties as Archbishop Athenagoras, primate of the Greek Orthodox Church in North and South America. Born in a little Greek town under Turkish rule, Athenagoras frequently reminded his U.S. flock of their good fortune. “Just to be here,” he would say, “that is happiness.”

This week, in his flowing robes and black-veiled hat, Archbishop Athenagoras moved among his congregations saying goodbye to the U.S. forever. In a few weeks he would leave for Istanbul to become his church’s Ecumenical Patriarch, acknowledged as the supreme office among the Eastern Orthodox churches.

The job before him is an exacting one, hedged about by ancient laws and customs. The strict confinement* and almost continual presence of numerous church officials and advisers cost Athenagoras’ predecessor his reason. A few months after the election of 51-year-old Maximos V in 1946, a priest came upon him beating the walls of his quarters and crying: “This is not the post for a young man!” For almost three years the church has buzzed with rumors that the mad patriarch would soon be deposed, but only this month —with Maximos shelved in a sinecure—did the twelve metropolitans of Istanbul assemble with their five alternates to elect a new patriarch.

The leading candidate was Athenagoras. The church needed a leader whose 18 years’ breathing of U.S. democratic air might fortify him against the efforts of Moscow’s Patriarch Alexei to bring all the Eastern churches “home.” to Russia. The Turkish government (unofficially Moslem) unofficially indicated that it would be “very, very satisfied” by Athenagoras’ election. The only opposition came from those who opposed the election of a non-Turk or who resented the obvious political interest of the Turkish government and the Western nations.

Last week, before the 1,000-year-old wooden throne of the patriarch in Istanbul’s small cathedral of Phanari, silver icons and ancient mosaics gleamed under the huge crystal chandeliers, and incense rose in clouds. Chanting the Kyrie Eleison, the twelve bearded metropolitans and their five alternates solemnly filed in and dropped their ballots into a silver urn. When the votes were counted, eleven were for Athenagoras and six were blank. “Axios!” (worthy) roared the crowd, and the cathedral bells began to peal.

“Well,” said one spectator, who, like many Turks, believes that only modern and efficient products come from the U.S., “now we have a nylon Patriarch.”

* Istanbul patriarchs are virtually imprisoned in the patriarchate, since they cannot appear in public without their official robes, which are forbidden by law on the streets of Turkey.