One of the most pressing tasks for Archbishop Anastasios was directing the effort to provide places for worship in a country in which churches had been methodically destroyed or made over into buildings with secular functions. Perhaps the archbishop’s most visible achievement are all the churches that have been erected since he arrived. By the middle of 2001, 80 new churches had been built, 70 churches restored, more than 140 churches have undergone repairs, in almost every case major, and five monasteries brought back to life. (In addition, more than 20 large buildings have been built or renovated to house the theological academy in Durres, Holy Cross High School in Gjirokaster, the office of the archdiocese in Tirana and diocesan centers in other cities, a diagnostic center, dispensaries, guest houses, schools and the building complex “Nazareth” that houses the candle factory, printing house, icon atelier, restoration workshop and other church service facilities.)
“Often you see with the Albanian people how a church still exists in a certain place even when you see no building at all, only scattered fragments. It is amazing how people will treat a church as a church no matter how ruined it is – no matter what had been done to the building, no matter what else it was – it remains a church, it remains connected to the holy. Even in the times when it was dangerous, people went to places where churches once stood to pray and light candles.
“Many times in the first months the Liturgy was conducted out of doors as no indoor place of worship was available, but preferably in a place where a church formerly existed. Of course this was only possible when the weather cooperated.
“In the very beginning we had no alternative but to put up a number of prefabricated temporary churches in various locations, but in the years since then the churches are permanent structures built mainly of stone with no two alike, each with its own character. In some cases these are restored, often from a state of ruin, while others are built from the foundations up. Our goal has been not simply to put up adequate buildings but to make beautiful churches. Through the architecture of the church buildings we try to say something not only about the present but the future. It is work coordinated by Father Theologos, a monk from Mount Athos who is living in our community here in Tirana. He directs the Office of Technical Services with his own staff and skilled collaborators. We have been spending about five million dollars per year on church construction and restoration. Some of this comes from donations made by Albanians themselves at great personal sacrifice. The rest, the main part, is thanks to donations from people in other countries, including some of my former students who have done well in their work and are able to be generous or who are active in trusts and foundations that can assist us. Sometimes I say I am not so much a bishop as an international beggar! We are a poor Church, but very rich in friends.”
The Church is, however, not rich in friends within the government. “Rarely have the political authorities been quick to return confiscated church property in those cases where churches hadn’t been completely destroyed, or even land with church ruins on it. This is a problem that impedes us in many locations to this very day. Sometimes the only practical solution is to buy back what was stolen from us.”
Church building often involves more than just a structure for worship.
“When we build or restore a church or monastery, often we also have to rebuild the road. I was once asked what gift I would like – I think they meant an icon. I said, ‘I would like a bulldozer’. I told them. They were surprised! ‘But what can you do with a bulldozer?’ ‘We can make roads’.
“With all our construction projects, the Church has become a significant factor in the economic development of Albania. We are one of Albania’s most serious investors and job creators.”
There was not only the task of providing church buildings but helping those drawn to the church after a long exile in a rigidly secular society to learn to pray together. “Sometimes it was very difficult to conduct the Liturgy, but often more to watch than pray. It was like having the Liturgy in a place where cars are being repaired or where a football game was going on. Often it was impossible to have silence. Many times I was severe – I refused to go further with the Liturgy until the people were silent. I didn’t mean the children. Let them cry, like birds. But let the rest of the people present pay attention to the service and not chatter to each other.”
At a Liturgy in a remote mountain village, in a cemetery church which had survived the Hoxha years by serving as a weapons depot, I saw how readily Archbishop Anastasios adapted himself to the enthusiasm of children, not only the noises they make but their eagerness to be close to him. One child approached him for a blessing and immediately all the children wanted the same thing. With so many children present, this meant a delay in the start of the service but that was no problem.