Saint Spyridon of Trimythous, one of the most revered saints in the Orthodox Church, is known for his countless miracles during his earthly life and beyond. Yet, many of his wondrous acts remain lesser-known, hidden in the stories passed down by local communities and faithful individuals.

This story, told by a Cypriot journalist, reveals the enduring love and intercession of Saint Spyridon in the lives of those who invoke his name with faith. From protecting a village’s peace to revealing the theft of offerings, these events highlight the saint’s role as a vigilant protector and guide, not only for Christians but also for those of other beliefs who revere his sanctity.

The miracles of Saint Spyridon remind us of the timeless truth that holiness transcends boundaries, and divine love knows no limits. They continue to inspire faith, unity, and hope among all who call upon his heavenly intercession.

I was born in 1940 in a small village in the Mesaoria region, in a house dedicated to Saint Spyridon of Trimythous himself. At that time, my father, a devout and well-educated priest, was serving in Tremetousia, an honorable parish of the famed Trimythounta region. We lived in a wing of the ancient monastery of Saint Spyridon. I was the youngest child in the family, and I was named “Spiro” in honor of the saint.

From childhood, my heart was filled with love and reverent awe for Saint Spyridon, who once lived in this blessed region. I played in the large courtyard of the ancient monastery, strolled from our house to the church, and pressed my ear to a small crack in the saint’s crypt, hoping to hear something. I wandered around the bottomless ancient well and climbed into the old, completely dry water reservoirs that once irrigated the gardens. Everything surrounding me belonged to the saint.

Not far from the monastery were village houses where Greeks and Turks lived together, engaging in farming and cattle breeding. Everywhere one could see sheep and cows.

The Greeks and Turks lived harmoniously. All the Turks spoke Greek and held deep respect for the saint. They came to the feast day of Saint Spyridon, bringing gifts and offerings in fulfillment of vows. If a Turk’s livestock—a cow or a sheep—fell ill, they would come to my father, pleading: “My goat is sick; it neither eats nor stands.” My father would take the Great Book of Needs, which contained prayers for sick animals. The Turk would kiss the priest’s hand, and they would go together.

Sometimes, as my father walked through the village, he would pass by the Turkish coffeehouse, where the regular patrons played backgammon. The first player to see the priest would call out to the others: “Prak yaou! Pappas kelyor!” (“Stop, guys! The priest is coming!”). The game would halt immediately, and everyone would stand up, making a small bow toward the priest.

Life proceeded peacefully until one incident disturbed the village and its surroundings. During the night, offerings made to Saint Spyridon were stolen. Both Greeks and Turks spoke of this with equal sorrow and anger. Nothing like this had ever happened before! My devout father, deeply distressed, went to the church to pray. He saw the signs of the theft: a broken window through which the thieves had entered. To everyone who asked him, he calmly replied, “Do not worry. The saint will reveal the thief.”

The next day, a Turk from the nearby village of Arsos arrived, dragging his teenage son by the ear. Holding a sack in his hands, he returned all the stolen offerings! What had happened? The boy had ridden his bicycle to the church at night, broken the window, and entered the sanctuary. Filling his sack with offerings, he rode back to his village. However, every two or three meters along the way, he fell with his bicycle onto the dusty road. When his father found out, he was astonished and interpreted it as a sign from Saint Spyridon. After punishing his son, he made him return the stolen items with him. The Greeks—and especially the Turks—were calmed and returned to their affairs, giving thanks to the saint for his help.

Taken from the book of the renowned Cypriot journalist Spiros Papageorgiou: “From EOKA to EOKA B” («Από τήν ΕΟΚΑ στήν ΕΟΚΑ Β»).