East of Madagascar about 1,000 kilometres, in the usually wild Indian Ocean, so close to the troubled land of Madagascar but so far away from its world, another “paradise” emerges like a water lily in the ocean waters. An aspidoidal perimeter of coral submarine substrate knows well how to protect its beautiful shores and thus create a circular white veil around this inaccessible “nymph” of the ocean. A “nymph” that many people really want to get close to, and to a certain extent they have succeeded, but which nevertheless, for us at least, still remains a mystery, a new and unknown world, different, sometimes beautiful and sometimes frustratingly difficult, sometimes full of joy and sometimes full of sadness and difficulties that seem truly inaccessible.
Mauritius…
“Welcome to heaven.”
It is the first sign you see on the stairs of the airport of the island of Mauritius. A made-up title, of course, taken from the commercial world of the ideal tourist program, but a phrase that sounds like a riddle to your ears.
Within the heart of this little “paradise” are 1.3 million souls. The third most populated place in the world, at least until a few years ago. 60% of the population devoted to the religion of Hinduism.
With its very prominent presence as the first and official religion of this tiny state, Hinduism is the element that literally “dresses” the neighbourhoods of Mauritius and colours the people who live there permanently. The icy image of the Hindu deities in every neighbourhood, the majestic sometimes small and sometimes large marble sculptures of temples with their chill and their white, expressionless mortal image, the monstrous forms of their deities and their often inhuman form create a necessarily negative mood from the outset and without you wanting it.
On the other hand, 20% of the population belongs to a world that is familiar to us, not always so nice. Muslimism, the second most dominant. With its noisy self-importance, clinging to money, and for the time being hiding its violent self, it makes its presence known to you and reminds you that you have this very familiar neighbour in front of you, to make your struggle even more difficult. The remaining 20 – many times maybe even 30%, belongs to Catholicism, Lutheranism and the rest of the familiar more or less known panoply of Protestant denominations that muddle the already weak world and create the usual chaotic image that characterizes the West, and this edge of the African land.
… The bus stops at the garage stop of Bala, the capital of Port Louis. The feet have now learned the way. They pass the Hindu temple to which the driver drops you off, now directing your body close to a second Guruji temple – or rather a better shack for resting the mind and the word – but at the same time preparing your soul for the hidden greatness prepared for you by the providence of God, your life, the pious desire of the few noble souls, the Faith finally smoldering like a small flame, like a small – great miracle on this shore of Divine Creation.
The Paradise
The Church of the Transfiguration of the Saviour in Port Louis. This is paradise in the fake tourist man-made “paradise” of Mauritius. A candle I found half-lit. And I say that with both bitterness and with secret – and I don’t know why – joy.
We took the decision in cooperation with the Church’s faithful, who are actually few – two to three dozen at most – to start from the beginning.
Maybe a big step. Maybe not. But the agony and the question in the soul remain big indeed. We hope. We hope in God’s mercy. Not in weak hands. Nor in weak human reason. Nor in calculations and plans. In nothing but nothing whatsoever human. We hope in the One who wrought this miracle that we again have before us, and in the hearts of God’s children. Those whom the earth now hides in its mother’s bosom, among whom is the builder of this Church the everlasting first Bishop of Madagascar, Mr. Nectarios, but also those who today are struggling and praying and blessing our unworthy and weak members. To them and to Almighty God belongs eternal thanksgiving and praise.
So let’s start this struggle too, however bitter it may seem from the beginning. Every sacrifice hides its own Calvary and its own Resurrection.
So welcome to paradise.
In this hidden, indeed this time Paradise, which hides this hell that the human mind has called “paradise”. This is for us the Paradise, the plank of Salvation, and the Ark of our spiritual refuge: our Church. Our Church, and here in Mauritius, which lives miraculously and incomprehensibly in decay and death.
Hierom. Polycarp Agiannanitis
