Meteora: Where beauty is repaid with beauty alone

In the summer of 2022, I had the honor of visiting one of the most impressive places my humble life has ever witnessed: Meteora, located in the region of Thessaly, in northern Greece, less than two miles from the town of Kalambaka.

As you approach, you are greeted by a breathtaking view of a group of naturally carved rocks in exquisite shapes. It is then that you cannot help but exclaim, like the psalmist: "The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims his handiwork" (Ps 19:1).

Even more so, life is recapitulated above that still life. The natural spectacle is intensified by the sight of a series of monasteries, harmoniously built on these gray rock masses called "Meteora," a term meaning "suspended in the air," with an altitude of up to about 600 meters above sea level.

This human contribution began at the end of the 12th century with the presence of ascetics who made this place their home, considering the topographical situation to be privileged for encountering God -- as is often the case in the accounts of the Holy Scriptures.

However, the construction of the monasteries with the delicate architecture we see today began in the 14th century with St. Athanasios Koinotivis, a member of the Orthodox monastic order of Mount Athos (also in northern Greece).

He and his companions founded the first monastery, which they named the Monastery of the Transfiguration, better known as "The Great Meteoron."

With this foundation, the monastic community was established on these rocks, and the foundations were laid for the other monasteries of Meteora, which previously numbered 24, of which six are currently functional.

Now, if the natural spectacle outside leaves us breathless, what happens inside these monasteries is no less impressive. (We have no doubt, then, why UNESCO declared this place a World Heritage Site in 1988.) The walls are covered with frescoes and icons in gold and vibrant colors that bear witness to the presence of Byzantine and post-Byzantine art, exalting Jesus Christ, the Virgin Mary and others of the greatest figures of the Greek Orthodox Church.

It is to be expected that each artistic element adorning their interiors (especially the chapels and refectories) provokes admiration and utmost reverence, since their creators -- the monks themselves -- have crafted each icon and religious object in a spirit of intimate prayer, unity and contemplation, within the dynamism of simplicity and dedication of monastic life.

For me, what happens in Meteora is an act of two-way offering. On the one hand, God giving himself, under the imprint of this natural beauty; and human beings emulating that transcendental attribute, to the best of their abilities, in the offering of their artistic gifts as a response of gratitude.

St. Thérèse of Lisieux, in "Story of a Soul," prayed: "I know, Jesus, that love can only be repaid with love, so I have sought and found a way to ease my heart by giving you love in return for love."

Now, my exhortation is that we transform this phrase by replacing the word love with beauty ("what is pleasing to see," in Thomistic terms). In this way, we would continue to reflect what we are: the image and likeness of the Creator.

Now, we would transform the beauty that we are (in Him) into an offering, or, if you will, any of our offerings to God, transforming them into beauty.

We know that this is possible because beauty in its highest degree has wanted to leave its mark on our spirit. This is perhaps our task. This phrase attributed to St. John Vianney echoes in me: "Here is a rule for everyday life: do not do any work that you cannot offer to God."

So, may the offerings we consecrate to God not only be the first fruits of our labor (Prv 3:9), but may they also be beautiful -- not because of our artistic gifts or our economic possibilities, but because of the magnitude of the goodness of our intention and the love placed in them.
May our own lives be an offering pleasing to Him.