The trial of Metropolitan Tychikos: When the Church “washes its hands”
Between the trial of Pilate and the trial of Metropolitan Tychikos there are striking and undeniable parallels.
To many, the story of Christ’s trial may seem so ancient, so distant, that its repetition in our age would appear impossible. After all, we live in another reality, within another system of values, where justice and truth, it would seem, have more right to exist than they did two thousand years ago. Yet the entire history of the Church demonstrates that the condemnation of the Savior is not an archaic story, but an archetypal one – a pattern that repeats itself again and again through the centuries.
Formally, Christ was condemned by the Roman authority in the person of Pontius Pilate, who found no guilt in Him yet succumbed to the pressure of the Pharisees and ordered the Galilean to be crucified, having first washed his hands. And in imitation of Pilate, many rulers through the ages have done likewise – turning a blind eye to obvious injustice and falsehood, thereby supporting persecutions, sham trials, and executions of Christians.
We in no way equate Metropolitan Tychikos with Christ. Yet the parallels between the trial of the Savior and the trial of the Cypriot hierarch are far too many to ignore. And yet this case has one unique feature: it was not Pilate who washed his hands, but the Church itself – in the person of the Ecumenical Patriarchate. Why do we say this? Let us see.
Part I. The Trial of Truth
“And judgment is turned away backward, and justice standeth afar off: for truth is fallen in the street, and equity cannot enter.”
(Isaiah 59:14)
In the spring of 2025, an event occurred in the life of the Church of Cyprus that, in the opinion of many priests and laypeople, became a sign of the Church’s crisis – the suspension of Metropolitan Tychikos of Paphos from the governance of his eparchy.
The decision, adopted by the Holy Synod of the Church of Cyprus, caused not only bewilderment but also profound protest among those who knew the hierarch personally – as a monk of rare purity, a man of prayer and meekness, a pastor who had, in a short time, breathed new life into the Paphos Metropolis.
But above all, this case became a litmus test for the entire contemporary Church.
It showed how easily the administrative machinery can replace the living Body of Christ, how the Church can turn into an “organization,” how the holy canons can be transformed into instruments of manipulation and political convenience rather than vessels of truth.
The beginning: groundless accusations
Metropolitan Tychikos was removed from his eparchy in May 2025 – formally on charges of “canonical violations” and “poor administration.” In reality, the accusations were so trivial that the very list of “offenses” looked like a document from that same Pharisaic era, when the desire to condemn at any cost outweighed the faintest notion of justice, and the letter of the law was wielded against its spirit.
He was accused of four “crimes”:
- Ordaining a “non-commemorating” priest, who, while still living in Greece as a layman, had ceased commemorating his bishop.
- Refusing to perform a wedding for a Protestant woman who had recently joined Orthodoxy in the United States – not even a refusal, in fact, but a request to speak with her personally before the sacrament to ensure proper catechesis.
- Consecrating a church in honor of an uncanonized ascetic (an accusation later disproved by a video showing Metropolitan Tychikos clearly naming the temple after St. Nectarios of Aegina).
- Refusing to accept relics of the Apostle Paul brought by a Catholic cardinal and maintaining a generally critical stance toward Roman Catholicism and ecumenism.
Each of these points, upon close inspection, not only fails to indicate wrongdoing but rather demonstrates the Metropolitan’s faithfulness to Orthodox tradition. Yet the indictment stood. And not only stood – it was hastily brought before the Synod, reviewed, and confirmed in the space of barely three hours.
Procedural violations and the metropolitan’s silence
According to the Charter of the Church of Cyprus, the trial of a hierarch must include defense counsel, access to case materials, and the right of appeal. None of these requirements were met. The Synod acted hastily and behind closed doors, contrary to its own Charter, which, in the words of Cypriot canonists, was “trampled underfoot in the name of displaying unity of authority.”
Metropolitan Tychikos himself made no public attempt to defend his case. He chose silence – not because he had nothing to say, but because he understood the futility of words and the obviousness of what was taking place. The only thing he urged his supporters to do was pray, as the most effective weapon against “the spirits of wickedness in high places.”
That silence became his answer to Pharisaic malice.
Blessed Augustine, commenting on the silence of Christ, wrote:
“The silence of our Lord Jesus Christ was not accidental. From the evangelists we learn that He was silent before the high priests, before Herod, to whom Pilate sent Him, and before Pilate himself. Each time that He answered not, the prophecy had to be fulfilled: As a lamb before his shearers is dumb, so he opened not his mouth (Isa. 53:7). And although He often answered those who questioned Him, here He chose silence. The image of the Lamb signifies that His silence was proof of innocence, not guilt.”
In a certain sense, the silence of Metropolitan Tychikos was a challenge – not to men, but to the spirit of this world, which strives to reduce the Church to a pitiful likeness of a bureaucratic office. In essence, such silence is not defeat – it is a form of preaching, when words can no longer change anything but only deepen the injustice.
Yet the Metropolitan resolved to appeal to the last “bastion of justice” available to him – the Synod of the Ecumenical Patriarchate. This is a normal and lawful procedure, invoked when injustice threatens to harm the Church itself.
The appeal to the Phanar
When the case reached the Ecumenical Patriarchate, many dared to hope – for it was there that those unjustly condemned in their local churches traditionally turned for judgment. And the appeal of Metropolitan Tychikos was indeed accepted, for there were ample grounds.
Moreover, after internal consideration, the Synod of the Ecumenical Patriarchate decided to summon the Metropolitan to the Phanar for personal participation in the final review of his case.
It must be noted that the decision to hear the case was not easy. Three months passed between the submission of the appeal and the reopening of the file. According to our information, the Synod Fathers were divided in opinion – many supported Tychikos and considered his condemnation unjust.
And in the final communiqué, the Ecumenical Patriarchate acknowledged that “procedural irregularities” had indeed taken place in Nicosia.
This phrase, included in the official decision, clearly indicated that the trial of Tychikos was conducted in violation of the Charter of the Church of Cyprus – and therefore, its verdict could not be recognized as valid. For the Charter is not a mere formality, but a document rooted in the Gospel and in the canons of the Church.
Yet the final resolution of the Synod, held at the Phanar, dealt a blow not only to the Metropolitan himself but to the very idea of ecclesiastical justice:
The Ecumenical Patriarchate decided to affirm the decision of the Church of Cyprus “for the sake of peace” and “the unity of the Church,” recommending that Metropolitan Tychikos submit to it “for his own spiritual benefit.”
In essence, this formula revealed that the Phanar acted not according to the canons of the Church but according to the laws of diplomacy – preferring not to quarrel with Archbishop Georgios, whose favor the Patriarchate was unwilling to risk.
Long before the Synod, insiders at the Archbishop’s office were already saying that the decision would not favor Tychikos – since Georgios supported the Phanar in the matter of the OCU and the Cypriot Church provided the Ecumenical Patriarchate with financial assistance.
Indeed, only two days before the Synod, Archbishop Georgios himself, speaking on Cypriot radio, mused publicly about the election of a new Metropolitan of Paphos. He was evidently confident that the decision from Constantinople would be in his favor.
During the entire period of this conflict (since May 2025), Archbishop Georgios behaved as though he were the absolute master of the Paphos Metropolis – though according to the Charter of the Church of Cyprus, he had no such authority.
Moreover, in flagrant violation of Church norms and canons, he forbade Metropolitan Tychikos to perform any pastoral ministry or even celebrate the Divine Liturgy, though until the Patriarchal Synod’s final decision he had no right to do so.
Many theologians and commentators observed that this alone demonstrated the Archbishop’s disrespect for the Ecumenical Patriarchate and its prerogatives. Yet, despite everything, the final ruling was rendered almost exactly as Georgios desired.
Why “almost”? Because the document did, in fact, state the existence of procedural violations.
And here two crucial questions arise:
- If the decision of the Cypriot Synod contains violations – it is invalid.
- If it is invalid – how can the appeal in Constantinople confirm it?
The answer is obvious. Yet instead of restoring justice, the Phanar chose to act “in the manner of Pilate” – saying, in effect: We see that you have condemned a man unjustly, but we do not wish to quarrel with you; therefore, we wash our hands.
Thus, the very institution of appeal – intended as the supreme manifestation of ecclesiastical justice – has turned into a symbol of truth’s impotence before human malice.
Unspoken reasons
In Cyprus it was well known that serious disagreements existed between Archbishop Georgios and Metropolitan Tychikos. The Archbishop demanded unconditional acceptance of the decisions of the Crete Council of 2016 and of the autocephaly of the OCU. Metropolitan Tychikos, remaining faithful to the canonical order of the Church, refrained from doing so – believing, among other things, that the Ukrainian schism was politically, not theologically, motivated.
The conflict intensified when Archbishop Georgios insisted on receiving relics of the Apostle Paul, to be brought by a Catholic cardinal. Tychikos refused to participate in the joint reception ceremony, considering that it could harm the faithful of his eparchy. From that moment, their relationship was effectively destroyed.
Thus, personal hostility and ideological incompatibility gradually took the form of disciplinary reprisal. The accusations, as often happens in such cases, became merely a façade – a tool for eliminating an inconvenient hierarch. As a line from a well-known film says: “If there is a man, a case will be found.”
Reaction of the faithful
Among the clergy and laity of Paphos, Metropolitan Tychikos enjoyed exceptional respect. He celebrated the Divine Liturgy almost daily and urged the frequent performance of services in parishes.
During his two years as hierarch, he launched new social initiatives, restored several churches and monasteries, established a network of catechetical courses, and opened a school of Byzantine chant. He also revived the memory of more than ten local saints – bishops, ascetics, and martyrs of Paphos.
Archbishop Georgios accused him of “poor administration,” yet the facts tell a different story. In the first year of his episcopate (2023), the revenues of the Metropolis more than doubled (by 116%), reaching €1,100,698. In 2024, the sum exceeded €2 million. At the same time, operational expenses were significantly reduced – clear evidence of prudent and disciplined management. The Metropolitan also restructured and settled millions of euros in non-performing loans, inherited from previous administrations – including those of Archbishop Georgios himself, who, before becoming primate of the Church of Cyprus, had been Metropolitan of Paphos.
The sermons of Tychikos were marked by simplicity and inner strength, far removed from the political rhetoric that so often corrupts ecclesiastical discourse. Therefore, when the news of his suspension was announced in May, spontaneous protests erupted throughout the Metropolis: people gathered in public squares, wrote letters of appeal, and petitioned the Archbishop to reconsider.
Particularly moving was the statement from the choirs and chanters of the Metropolis of Paphos, declaring that “the voice of truth was silenced by the voice of fear.”
Yet none of this yielded positive results – while the negative consequences proved abundant. In parish chat groups and social media across Paphos, many faithful now write that they will no longer attend church services, since “there is no truth even in the Church.” Many consider the hierarchy’s silence toward the pleas of believers to be a new form of violence – when ecclesiastical authority simply refuses to hear the cries of its own children.
Voices are even being raised calling for the cessation of church funding.
And who, in the end, has benefited from all this? No one – except perhaps the one who began it all: the enemy of mankind.
A test of faith
After the decision of the Synod at the Phanar, Metropolitan Tychikos found himself in a state bordering on internal exile. His stipend was cut by more than half; he was forbidden to serve and his contact with the faithful was restricted. His health – already fragile – deteriorated further. Yet, according to those who know him closely, he continues to keep his prayer rule daily and to pray for those who condemned him.
Cypriot media report that the Metropolitan’s future now depends on a document he is being asked to sign – declaring his acceptance of the Council of Crete and the OCU.
To sign would mean returning to the system – but at the cost of conscience. To refuse would mean continued isolation and perhaps even defrocking. At present, the situation is extremely difficult, and only God can change it.
One thing, however, is certain: the story of Metropolitan Tychikos, like everything in the Church, is not only about one man. It is a mirror of the spiritual condition of the very institution called to be the image of Christ’s truth – but which all too often becomes an arena for the struggle of human ambitions.
And just as in the Gospel, Christ was condemned for the truth by those who called themselves guardians of the law, so in 2025 on Cyprus, the story repeats in another form: a hierarch has been condemned not for breaking the canons, but precisely because he did not break them.
Part II. When the Church “Washes Its Hands”
“For judgment is without mercy to the one who has shown no mercy.”
(James 2:13)
When the Phanar confirmed the decision of the Cypriot Synod – despite acknowledging the procedural violations that had occurred – many perceived this as a moment of truth for the modern Orthodox world.
But that truth proved to be a bitter one.
The Ecumenical Patriarchate, which should be the last refuge of justice in inter-church conflicts, chose instead the role of Pontius Pilate: to recognize innocence – and then to wash its hands.
A Gospel parallel: judgment without justice
The words of the Evangelist Matthew about Pilate now sound with almost literal relevance:
“When Pilate saw that he could prevail nothing, but that rather a tumult was made, he took water and washed his hands before the multitude, saying, I am innocent of the blood of this just person” (Matthew 27:24).
Then, two thousand years ago, Pilate knew that Christ was innocent – but he dared not resist the pressure of the high priests, the Pharisees, and the scribes. Today, the Ecumenical Patriarchate has acknowledged that the case of Metropolitan Tychikos was conducted with violations – yet it preferred not to defend the truth, but to preserve an outward “peace” with those who trampled that truth underfoot.
The Phanar’s decision is not merely a diplomatic gesture. It is a theological catastrophe.
For when ecclesiastical authority justifies injustice in the name of “peace,” it ceases to be the image of Christ’s Truth.
Christ did not bring to earth a peace of compromise or “diplomacy.” He brought a peace that is the fruit and result of Truth itself: “My peace I give unto you; not as the world giveth, give I unto you” (John 14:27).
Thus arises the chief question: what is worse – to condemn the innocent, or to justify falsehood for the sake of peace?
In the case of Tychikos, we witness the latter. And in this lies the deepest crisis of contemporary ecclesial consciousness.
An appeal that lost its meaning
In the canonical tradition of the Church, appeal to the Ecumenical Throne is not a mere legal procedure. It flows from the spirit of the Ecumenical Councils, where Constantinople was regarded as the tribunal of conscience for the entire Church. It was meant to be not an organ of authority but an organ of truth – a place where even the humblest priest or bishop, unjustly condemned, could find protection.
But when that same organ declares: “Yes, you were condemned unjustly, but everything stands for the sake of peace,” it undermines the very foundation of its mission. For the Church cannot affirm falsehood, even for the sake of external calm.
History teaches that wherever peace becomes more important than truth, decay begins.
So it was at the trial of St. John Chrysostom – condemned “for the sake of peace,” to avoid unrest in Constantinople.
So it was with St. Nectarios of Aegina, when the Patriarch of Alexandria, having found no guilt in him but believing slander, expelled the saint “for the sake of peace.” The parallel is particularly striking given that Archbishop Georgios deeply venerates St. Nectarios, yet now behaves like his persecutor.
For this reason, we must say clearly:
The Ecumenical Patriarchate, in seeking to preserve “unity,” has destroyed trust in the very institution of appeal. For if an appeal no longer defends the innocent, it becomes a formality – and the faithful lose their sense of justice within the Church. This is precisely what we now see happening in the minds of many believers in Greece and Cyprus.
When the administrative replaces the spiritual
In theological terms, the tragedy of Tychikos’s case lies not only in injustice but in the administratization of the Church –the replacement of spiritual discernment with bureaucratic calculation.
A hierarch, a monk, a man of prayer who lives in obedience to Christ and the Gospel, is condemned not for sin, but for disloyalty to the structure. Thus spiritual issues are displaced by administrative and political “interests.” Thus the Gospel is displaced by diplomacy.
When the Church lives by worldly laws, she ceases to be the Church, becoming a “service institution.”
In this light, it becomes clear why the accusations against Tychikos sounded so petty and formal: it was not truth-seeking, but excuse-seeking.
And such tactics are nothing new.
And every time the Church has lived politically, trials of the righteous have followed: Chrysostom, Athanasius, Maximus, Nectarios. All were condemned by men and vindicated by God.
Pharisaism in the guise of peace
The most frightening aspect of this story is not even the condemnation of one hierarch, but the way the Church justifies it “for the sake of peace.” For under the slogan of maintaining unity, truth is betrayed.
It was precisely this argument that the Pharisees used to justify the trial of Christ: “It is better that one man should die for the people” (John 11:50).
Today we hear: “Better that one suffer than that there be conflict between Churches.” This logic is anti-Christian at its very core.
The Church lives not for “peace” but for Truth.
The saints went to death and exile for Truth and conscience.
When the Phanar says “for peace,” it speaks no longer of the Gospel’s peace, but of political peace.
Thus “ecclesiastical peace” becomes compromise with falsehood.
And where there is no struggle for truth, there is no life of the Spirit.
A sign of the times
The figure of Metropolitan Tychikos has transcended his own story. He has become a symbol of fidelity colliding with administrative and political expediency – a sign of our age, when the Church again faces the temptation of power, seeking to negotiate with the world by diplomacy rather than by Gospel witness.
Every righteous sufferer becomes a reminder of what the Church truly is: founded not on decrees, but on the blood of martyrs and the truth of the Gospel.
Metropolitan Tychikos is by no means an “opposition figure” or an activist. He is a man of prayer, who has suffered for his fidelity to the canons of the Church. He reminds us that true spiritual life begins not with agreement with authority, not with compromise of conscience, nor with political or national calculation, but with obedience to God.
Metropolitan Tychikos is no agitator but a man of prayer, who suffers for faithfulness to the canons. He shows that true spiritual life begins not in agreement with authority or compromise with conscience, but in obedience to God.
And if one strips away all the external layers, the essence of the matter is simple: in pursuit of “peace,” the Church has condemned truth. Yet even this may serve for purification. For every time the Church errs, God transforms Her failures into lessons.
So it was wit St. Chrysostom, who died in exile yet whose icons now fill the world.
So it was with St. Nectarios, whom men expelled but God glorified.
And so, if he endures without bitterness, will it be with Metropolitan Tychikos, who prays for his persecutors.
For while ecclesiastical power speaks the language of procedure, God speaks through lives, turning them into living hagiographies.
And perhaps it is precisely now, when men “wash their hands,” that God again shows that the Church is not an administrative structure but the Body of Christ, where Truth is mightier than every human “interest.”
Truth may be condemned – but never destroyed.
And thus the case of Metropolitan Tychikos is not finished. It continues in the conscience of everyone who believes that the Church is not a place where truth is punished, but where Truth lives.
“And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.”
(John 8:32)
