The Friends of Mount Athos Book Reviews

© 2006

The Unknown Pilgrim: The Soul’s Journey to God and to the Holy Mountain of Athos. By René Gothóni. Manton, CA: Divine Ascent Press, 2006. 166 pages. Paperback. ISBN 0-9714139-3-2.

For once, this is a book you can judge by its covers: on the front, a detailed illustration of a hermit’s imaginary island (complete with Heath Robinson boat-hoist); on the back, a portrait of the author, eager to reach out of academia to communicate with a wider audience. Hitherto, we have only known René Gothóni as a lucid social scientist, Professor of Comparative Religion at Helsinki University, president of the Finnish Society of Friends of Mount Athos, and a faithful visitor and speaker at our gatherings. But in his latest book, he reveals a burning desire to show the creative side of his character for, as he wistfully remarks ‘there is no storyteller in an encyclopedia.’

‘The Unknown Pilgrim’ sets out to interpret and distil the wisdom of Mount Athos absorbed by the author from two decades of interviewing monks and pilgrims on the Holy Mountain, and his analysis of travellers’ tales from previous centuries. It serves as a companion to his Tales and Truth (Helsinki, 1994) but refines and carries forward its arguments and theses. As far as I am aware, it represents Professor Gothóni’s first venture into narrative prose (I hesitate to use the term ‘documentary fiction’ as it is clearly a slice of autobiography based on his research experiences).

The book features two towers: the Byzantine pirgos from which the author surveys, in his mind’s eye, the frontier town of Ouranopolis, the port of embarkation and return for most pilgrims to Mount Athos; and the watchtower on the hermit’s island he visits, which comes to symbolize a ‘divine lantern’, or lighthouse, to guide the author. Through the eyes of Professor Gothóni, we see an Ouranopolis (described to me as ‘Sodom and Gomorrah’ by a monk who passed through it three months into his novitiate!) transformed into a fascinating community. We explore its hot, dusty backstreets and off-season beaches, learn of its short, poignant history, and meet some of its characters, all too often ignored through the pilgrims’ tunnel vision. Transported to the imaginary island, where Fr Theophilos now lives alone, tended by the faithful fisherman Christos, and the occasional helicopter delivery of supplies, the rhythm and pace changes. ‘You don’t need a watch here’, remarks the Elder, as he leads the author into the constant round of prayer, work, and meditation. However, there is also time for calm but thorough debate and discussion, in which the scholar/social scientist is able to work out his several dilemmas with the help of the hermit. The author attempts to convey, however falteringly, to a world that does not want to hear, the simple merits and values of a belief system long ago dismissed by the modern western world. He also challenges the bureaucratic morass, with its business plans and performance targets, into which intellectual research has fallen. Mercifully, the intense humility of his chosen Elder helps him to avoid any risk of preachifying.

The intervening section of the book serves as a resumé of Professor Gothóni’s previous publications on pilgrimage, presented in a systematic but easily assimilated form. Drawing on his encyclopaedic knowledge of pilgrimage within world religions, he demonstrates that:

The concept of ‘pilgrimage’ has two opposite meanings: wandering and resting. This is not immediately obvious in the English word, but in Finland, for example, the Lutherans and Roman Catholics talk about pilgrimage (Fin. pyhiinvaellus) as travelling or wandering, while Orthodox use the expression ‘visiting the Holy’ (Fin. pyhissäkäyminen). In the Western tradition, pilgrimage is regarded more as an activity, a travelling, an identification with the sufferings of Christ by means of ascetic wandering and prayer. For the Orthodox it is the cry of the humble servant for Christ’s mercy … that is the motive for going to the Holy place. There are two different paths to the same goal. Our religious tradition and personality dictate which path each one of us will choose.

He describes us all as nest builders or pilgrims, ‘making progress along the spiritual path’ or ‘becoming rooted in a particular place or society’. Professor Gothóni argues passionately that the process of pilgrimage (from setting out for the holy place and reaching it, to returning home) ‘forms an ellipse but is not a transition rite’. Acknowledging the physical hardships of pilgrimage, he views the end result not as a transition but as transformation of the pilgrim and concludes that the ‘shift from suffering to bliss seems to be the decisive sign of spiritual transformation’.

The Unknown Pilgrim is an intensely personal book in which the author seeks to compare the monastic struggle for divine ascent with the scholar’s quest for truth through research, and his struggle to teach and to publish his findings. It draws on a wealth of literary and philosophical sources from Horace to Montaigne, and from Ecclesiastes to Johan Olof Wallin. Full of apposite metaphor and gems of the author’s personal philosophy (such as the social activities which ‘like pirates, rob us of our biggest treasure – time!’), some of the images (‘the narrow path between hell and despair’) seem worthy of Tolkien. Yes, there are occasional typographical errors and endearing quirks of language, but the work is rich in characterization, the dialogue is crisp, and the narrative moves along well. Professor Gothóni is clearly seeking to reach a new readership and he succeeds. It seems to me that, like J.R.R. Tolkien or C.S. Lewis, he has crossed a literary Rubicon and thereby become an even more powerful advocate of Athonite values. He has shown Athos and its kellia as a powerhouse, where saintliness is commonplace and ‘miracles are indeed expected to happen’.

GEOFF HOPKIN

Sheffield