A Miracle Witnessed With My Own Eyes

On October 27, 1994, I drove to St. Irene Chrysovalantou Cathedral

in Astoria, New York City; I had come to witness a miracle with my

own eyes. A small crowd was gathering on the white steps of the

Greek Orthodox Church. By the time I turned the corner, parked, and

walked back, a line five-abreast and a block long had formed leading

up to the steps. The previous evening, thousands had assembled to

solemnly walk through the portals of the cathedral.

At the altar was an icon of Saint Irene who lived in the age of

Constantinople. About a foot square, it was mounted under glass with

an outside kneeler for a person to pray and express devotion. It was

reported on NBC’s “A Current Affair” the night before that the icon

was shedding tears. Familiar with the curious history of eyewitness

reports of statues, icons, and paintings that weep and bleed, here was

my chance to observe the strange phenomenon with my own eyes.

I had to wait about 45 minutes before climbing the cathedral

steps. The crowd was orderly and pensive, mostly Greeks from the

neighborhood. It is called a cathedral, but once inside I realized how

small and intimate it was compared to most Western churches, the

walls crowded with paintings and icons and the atmosphere suffused

with a warm mystic glow. Celebrants bought candles, thick white

ones about three feet long, lighting them for votive purposes.

At first, I doubted I would see anything, the church being poorly

lit and the icon set in a darkish enclosure. When my turn came, a

woman handed me a candle and I stepped very close. At once I was

able to see—without the candle—that several large drops of transparent

liquid had formed around the eyes and were trickling down the

surface of the icon. There was no question in my mind about the fact

that I saw this. I stepped back and walked around the icon, noting its

wooden enclosure; no pipes or appurtenances were visible that could

account for any accidental leakage.

However, somebody could conceivably have rigged up a device

inside the enclosure, causing drops to seep through the icon’s surface.

A tall, ruddy-faced, bearded young man in monkish garb was

standing beside the icon.

“It’s a bad omen,” he said, shaking his downcast head.

The image had begun to shed tears 10 days previously on

Wednesday, October 17. The icon, which belonged to Saint Irene’s

for 20 years, was at that time lodged in a sister cathedral in Chicago

for the purpose of being blessed. It was during vespers when the congregation

was praying for peace in the Middle East that the phenomenon

began. It was immediately taken by those present to signify

impending catastrophe. Needless to say, the Middle East has been

roiling in wars and chaos ever since the American invasion of Iraq.

I asked the priest if anyone had taken a sample of the tears and

submitted them to chemical analysis.

He looked at me as if I had stabbed him in the back:

“You really want to do that?” he said.

“It would help,” I said. 

To the pious young priest, the idea of a scientific test was quite

beside the point. He said the icon had been the subject of reports of

miracles for 14 years, including healings of serious diseases like cancer.

He spoke with enthusiasm of the heroic life of the saintly Irene,

stressing the torments of her daily struggles with diabolic agents,

adding that she had lived to be over a hundred.

A slightly older, plumper man with a stately black beard stepped

up. Bishop Vincent was his name. He was the man I had seen on television.

I asked him about doing a chemical analysis of the liquids; he

agreed it would be a good idea. He said it would be arranged once

the proper authorities were called in. He seemed more than willing to

comply; for once the enclosure was opened, he was confident further

talk of hoaxing would end.

Bishop Vincent explained how the weeping began in Chicago

during a prayer for peace in the Middle East. “Did the icon ever shed

tears before?” I asked. Once, he said, on the feast day of Saint Irene,

August 2, a year ago; it had briefly produced some teardrops. This

time the weeping has been more or less continuous for 10 days. The

Bishop pointed out that on Friday evening, October 26, after the great

crowds had dispersed, the icon became dry. In the morning, the tears

began to flow again. Because of this extraordinary behavior, and because

of the escalating crisis in the Middle East, the officials decided

to parade the icon through the streets of Astoria on Sunday, October

28th. By the way, in Greek the word irene means “peace.”

It rained lightly that morning. I returned to Saint Irene’s Cathedral.

Once again the line leading inside was long and wide. The procession

would start at 11:30, and ABC television was there to record

events. I spoke with a Greek-American man who smiled gently and

expressed his skepticism. Harsh sounding chants and words of peace

for the Middle East piped from inside the cathedral. According to

the doubting Thomas, in 1980 somebody foretold that one day great

crowds of people would come to venerate the Miraculous Icon of the

Saint of Peace, and that this marv el would transpire in Astoria, New

York. (Coincidentally, I was born and raised in Astoria, New York.)

Children in white costumes, nubile lasses and handsome youths

in gay colors, priests and bishops in black robes, all waited till the

icon was presented on the steps. It had been taken out of the kneeling

booth and was raised aloft by two men. The moment the icon,

which had now been weeping for 12 days, was brought into view, a

hush came upon the crowd. The procession of worshipers followed

through the streets and returned to the cathedral steps where the sick

waited in hope of healing.

Was the icon really weeping? Or were the people of Saint Demetrios

right? Did someone rig it to make the drops appear as if from

nowhere? But who? The likely suspects would be the bishops and

priests in charge. But why would they attempt such a scam with a

skeptical press watching them like hawks? I don’t blame the skeptic.

That tears might materialize from a piece of wood certainly seems

incredible. Do statues weep? Do such thoroughly queer anomalies

actually occur in this day or age? What to make of such fantastic

claims? What I saw with my own eyes, was it a trick, an illusion, tears

from Mind at Large—or what?

From Smile of the Universe:

http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/1949501132/theanomalist