Today, we received the sad news of the passing of Archbishop Anastasios of Albania. He was one of those great men of our time whose life was a vivid testimony to the power of faith, humility, and missionary service. For those unfamiliar with him, suffice it to say that Metropolitan Anastasios was not only a remarkable theologian but also a living embodiment of the apostolic spirit. His work in Albania, where he essentially revived the Orthodox Church after decades of severe persecution, became a symbol of how the power of faith can serve as the foundation for the gathering and building of a new Christian community.
For me, however, Metropolitan Anastasios remains not only a great missionary and theologian but also a man with whom I share one of the most memorable and romantic stories of my church life.
We first met in December 1998 at the General Assembly of the World Council of Churches in Harare, Zimbabwe. My friends—Andrei Zolotow, Paweł Stefanowski, Jaroslaw Harkiewicz— and I decided to leave Harare to spend two days at Victoria, one of the largest waterfalls in the world. Everything was organized quickly: dates were chosen, airline tickets were bought, and a cottage was rented
Yet, a certain guilt lingered in our hearts about leaving the assembly. Imagine our surprise when, upon boarding the plane, we discovered that almost half of the cabin was filled with assembly participants, including Orthodox priests, nuns, and even… Archbishop Anastasios! Our introduction on the plane was purely formal.
We agreed that we would all meet together the next day, right at the waterfall. It was a grandiose spectacle: the waterfall was over a kilometer and a half long and over a hundred meters high. We stood stunned by the sight. A rainbow shimmered in the high-rising spray, and the noise of the waterfall was all-absorbing. Suddenly, Anastasios turned to us and suggested, “Why don’t we sit here and read the Scriptures?”
We moved a bit away from the edge, sat down on the rocks, and he pulled a small Bible from the pocket of his cassock. This moment, unexpected in its simplicity, became deeply liturgical for me. Against the backdrop of God’s majestic creation, we listened as Anastasios recited the Psalms praising God the Creator, and the words became part not only of the biblical narrative but also of our personal story.
What followed was equally unforgettable. We all decided to have lunch on a boat that was floating on the Zambezi River and at one point we found ourselves surrounded by hippos. Anastasios turned our lunch into a para-liturgical moment by blessing the bread and breaking it on the bow of our boat.
Since then, we have only met a few more times at conferences, and I never got to visit him in Tirana.
Dear Lord Anastasios, may you dwell in the Heavenly Kingdom! Your life and example remain a living source of inspiration for me.
P.S. Somewhere in my archives I must have a photo of Anastasios reading the Bible at the waterfall, but I can’t find it now. This photo was taken just a couple of minutes before that moment.