The Legacy of Joseph Barnabas in Cyprus

"The Holy Apostle Barnabas" icon in the Church of Barnabas in Salamis. Note that he is seated on a throne like a king.

Living in Cyprus is for me a bit like standing with one foot in 2011 and the other in the earlier centuries of the church. Previously, when I read stories like The Infancy Gospel of Thomas (a late second or early third century text), I never took such texts seriously. Their intention seems to be to amaze listeners and to glorify Jesus.

Thomas describes the boy Jesus making birds out of clay and clapping his hands and bringing the birds to life. When an older bully destroys some pools of water that Jesus made, Jesus pronounces a curse on the boy, who dries up completely. Another child strikes Jesus on the shoulder, so Jesus strikes him dead with a word (see http://www.earlychristianwritings.com/infancythomas.html for the text). To be honest, I don’t much care for this view of Jesus. He seems to be a divine boy who is a loose canon. With the other parents in the story, I would ask Mary and Joseph to please keep their son away from my children.

These stories were quite popular with many ancient Christians; but I assumed that, if most modern Christians read these texts, they would find them to be humorous. Now I am not so sure. I regularly hear stories from my new Orthodox friends about miraculous events. Today, after church, I heard about a saintly Cypriot woman who says that when she was fourteen, she was taken by the Virgin Mary to a sacred mountain—as in picked up and physically flown there. I also heard stories about Jesus appearing to people while they sat at table—after they prayed that Jesus would be their guest at table.

At the tombs of saints, people report smelling sweet aromas that signal the presence of the saint. Some smell it; some don’t. The saint decides whom to grant the ability to smell the fragrance. Yesterday, my friend Marios told me that people must not judge the strength of their faith by whether or not Barnabas allows them to smell the fragrance. Barnabas decides who will get the sensation.

Miracle Working Saints

My host today explained that for a person to be considered a saint, his body must not decay. At a monastery on Mt. Athos, for example, the graveyard is small. The monks bury their brothers, but after ten years, they dig up the bones and use them for constructing gates, parts of buildings, etc. If they dig up a body, and the body is not decomposed, this is a sign that the man was a saint. I do not think that every Orthodox believer I hear would agree with this understanding. I know that they would not. As with other Christians, they have many differing views. But I consistently hear about the miraculous.

In the past, I would tend to associate such reports with imaginative ancient stories like The Arabic Infancy Gospel of Jesus (http://www.gnosis.org/library/infarab.htm). But my Cypriot friends are deadly serious in their beliefs. They expect more miracles than do my Pentecostal friends in the United States. And they primarily associate miracles with saints—which is a complete paradigm shift for me.

Yesterday, I asked Fr. Gabriel about saints.

Fr. Gabriel and some of his spiritual children at the reception at the tomb of St. Barnabas, following the sacred liturgy.

Q. “Do saints primarily do one sort of thing? I hear stories about St. Barnabas founding the Church of Cyprus, protecting the church, performing miracles at his tomb, etc. People seem to go to him as their father, bringing whatever concerns they have to him.”

A. “Yes,” Fr. Gabriel responded. “They are right to do so. He established our church. We are his spiritual descendants. He cares for us as his children.”

Q. “Do Orthodox Christians in Greece, or Turkey or other countries in the world revere Barnabas in the same way as Cypriots do?”

A. “No. They revere him as a saint, but they do not pray to him like we do. He does not do as many things for them as he does for us. We are his children.”

Q. “Are saints somewhat territorial? Do they primarily work in the areas around where they are buried?”

A. “Yes. People in different regions have different saints who care for them. Of course, we do not just pray to St. Barnabas. We have other saints in Cyprus who are known for various kinds of miracles. One might be known for healing cancer. Another might be known for healing teeth. But Barnabas is our founder and protector.”

I remembered but didn’t mention visiting in late August the tomb of Saint Iraklidios, who is known for healing backs. That morning, several hours before we went to the Monastery of St. Iraklidios, a man at another Orthodox church recounted going to the tomb and lying down in front of it and having an out of body experience and suddenly being jolted awake and being aware that his back was healed. Now, I looked into the eyes of the doctor who was translating for Fr. Gabriel and me. An accomplished gerontologist, he had not the slightest hint of doubt in his eyes as he relayed Fr. Gabriel’s words to me.

I do not pretend to understand all that happens in the world. I have great difficulty accepting stories that seem fanciful to me. I have not had any experiences that resemble the ones that I hear about holy men and women physically seeing Jesus or talking all night with a long-dead saint in a hermitage, or of a living saint teleporting his body to appear to someone in another country.

As a historian, I am much more comfortable analyzing an archaeological site like this one at ancient Kourion.

But as I listen to my gracious hosts describe such events, I notice no hesitance or insincerity in their voices. As my friend would say, “My B. S. meter does not set off alarms.” I am a 21^st century historian who is also a Christian and not closed to the possibility of the miraculous. But I usually interpret things in non-supernatural terms. My host today explained that when the Church of St. Barnabas in Nicosia was newly constructed in the 1980s, the roof of an outside porch collapsed. He called it a miracle that Barnabas kept anyone from getting hurt. If I were describing the same event, I would say something like, “Due to shoddy building techniques, the roof collapsed. Fortunately, no one was standing there at the time. Someone could have been hurt or killed.”

I am well aware that people are hurt or killed in accidents every day, and many of them are Christians. Where other Christians may see angels or saints doing miraculous things, I mostly see simple cause and effect. Sometimes tornadoes in the US hit churches; sometimes they miss them. I do not see God or angels or saints typically deciding which people will get killed in natural disasters or war or terrorist bombings, and which will escape with their lives.

In Cyprus, I listen and learn and record my thoughts. Mainly, I just keep my thoughts to myself. I do not see my role right now to be a dialog partner, analyzing claims. I am a foreign guest who keeps wondering how I am going to write my book about Barnabas. But part of what I find to be so fascinating is the way people generally, regardless of culture, assume that I agree with what they are saying unless I indicate otherwise.