Ora et labora. Pray and work. Long considered the monastic ideal, the phrase suggests the integration of the soul’s deep yearnings with the practicalities of earning a living – a hard enough goal for the dedicated monastic, and truly elusive for those of us in the world. But when I came to Wyche, I wondered if something like this might be possible, even in the modern world, even in the busy practice of law. A dozen or so years in, I have come to realize my hopes were well founded, and that all our talk at this unique firm of “work-life balance” is real. That certitude comes from journeying to a remote peninsula in northern Greece, Mt. Athos, and some extraordinary – truly “Wychean” – legal work along the way.
While my own religious background is Anglican, mentors in college and post-graduate study introduced me to both Mt. Athos and hesychasm the spirituality that is the Holy Mountain’s raison d’etre. Through continual repetition of the Jesus Prayer, “Lord Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy,” both aloud and in the heart, the monks seek to obtain inner stillness and live out the Biblical injunction to “pray without ceasing.” (1 Thess. 5:17).
A two-month gap in fall 2011 between finishing my clerkship and starting a new job at Wyche seemed to offer the ideal chance for a long-desired pilgrimage to Athos. Dear friends were spending a year in Thessaloniki, the closest major city, and invited me to stay. And I calculated there would be just enough time for a visit to Greece after some hiking in Romania and sightseeing in Istanbul.
The trouble was getting there. A special visa (in Greek, diamonitirion) is required from the governmental arm of the monasteries, and the bureaucracy of acquiring one is, both literally and figuratively, Byzantine. Then there was the added challenge of transportation (by sea is the only way) and securing lodging at the monasteries. Plus I knew no Greek – or Russian, Bulgarian, Serbian, or Romanian, to name the other languages commonly spoken on the Holy Mountain. Armed with passable “American,” I was, however, able to find guidance from a UK-based organization, the Friends of Mount Athos (FoMA), and its American membership secretary, Professor Bob Allison of Bates College in Maine. Eagerly I joined FoMA, emailed Dr. Allison, and read all I could in FoMA’s materials about the practicalities of making a pilgrimage. Here too a seed was planted, though unknown to me at time, of future collaboration between FoMA and Wyche.
I was determined on that first trip that I should walk. From FoMA I learned that visitors nowadays were often carted about from place to place in minibuses, neglecting entirely the ancient stone footpaths (in Greek, kalderimi) that run among the monasteries and along the cliffs and mountainsides. I learned too that the late Prince Philip had refused a car on his visit, declaring that all pilgrims to the Holy Mountain should walk. If that approach was good enough for His Royal Highness, I reasoned, it was good enough for me, and offered the additional prospect of experiencing the Holy Mountain’s natural beauty at a leisurely pace.
The various obstacles to getting to Athos were eventually overcome. I secured the diamonitirion, arranged through letter and fax for lodging at four monasteries, and even navigated my way around a last-minute transportation dilemma when the ferry that normally takes pilgrims to Athos broke down. A speedboat instead ferried me and a group of Germans to Dafni, the small fishing village along the coast of Mt. Athos through which all pilgrims pass.
My first two nights were spent at Vatopedi, one of the oldest and largest monasteries, which keeps special quarters reserved for visits from its illustrious sometime pilgrim, then Prince and now King Charles III. His Majesty also serves as Royal Patron of FoMA, and is much beloved by the monks, who maintain – perhaps not surprisingly for those living in monasteries founded by Byzantine emperors – rather traditional notions about government. At Vatopedi I had my first experience of the monks’ daily services, which begin with the chanting of psalms in flickering candlelight long before dawn. I also enjoyed Athonite cuisine, which is entirely vegetarian except on the rare feast days when fish is served.
It was after leaving Vatopedi, and while hiking on my own across the peninsula, that my fortunes took a turn and I became hopelessly lost. My sole companion was a dog to which I had given a scrap of bread in Karyes, the administrative capital of Mount Athos. Fearing that I might face a night in the Athonite forests where jackals still roam, and my canine companion seeming no match for such foes, I kept trudging on. Eventually I found my way courtesy of signage posted by FoMA, which, I later learned, had undertaken a project to clear, mark, and map the peninsula’s many kalderimi in order to encourage their renewed use. And here too another seed was laid.
Mt. Athos stays with one even after leaving, and so it did with me. A week there contained many memorable moments, including one for my memento mori file, when I unexpectedly came upon a monastery’s ossuary, picturesquely situated along a cliffside, and gazed in wonder at row upon row of human skulls, each carved with the name of a long-dead monk. “Remember death,” they seemed to call out across the centuries.
But while Athos stayed with me, I had numerous other things on my mind in those days – starting a new job, getting to know colleagues, proving myself as an associate, adjusting to the practice of law. Many were the days (and occasional nights) I spent crafting arguments with Henry Parr (including on a case that went to the U.S. Supreme Court), or studying redlines from Ted Gentry (on a draft brief that had been “Gentrified”), or trying to find just the right case for Wallace Lightsey.
Amidst these high-minded labors, I nevertheless kept up my membership in FoMA and thought occasionally of a return trip. I also got a clear sign in those early years – no less valuable than the FoMA signs that guided me in 2011 – that I was on the right path. It came of all places in a conversation about my billable hours, and after a frenetic and wildly successful arbitration. Troy Tessier appeared in my office one afternoon and warned me not that my hours were too low but rather that they were too high, and not sustainable, including with his gentle admonishment a kindly note and a bottle of wine. With this vino was veritas indeed.
Athos came calling again around Christmas of 2015. Professor Allison, who had assisted me on that first pilgrimage, sent out a request to the American members of FoMA. Efforts had been made over a number of years, he explained, to form a U.S.-based nonprofit to enable Americans to make tax deductible contributions for work on Athos, but these had been unsuccessful. The IRS rules for nonprofits doing work abroad were not simple, and expertise was needed. Did anyone know of a lawyer or law firm that might be willing to assist pro bono? By this point, I had been trained up enough in Marshall Winn’s can-do attitude to know that no legal conundrum was a match for Wyche’s expertise, so this litigator volunteered, only later getting reassurance from Cary Hall that he would provide tax and nonprofit guidance.
We learned much in the early going. What we would need to create is called in IRS lingo a “friends of” organization, and financial support for projects on the Holy Mountain would have to come through a robust grantmaking process, which the IRS would expect to see evidence of in our application. Mere “conduits” for funds being sent abroad are not permitted. There were also various fits and starts. The name we initially registered with the South Carolina Secretary of State, the “Friends of Mount Athos in the Americas,” might suggest insufficient independence from and cause confusion with our sister organization in the UK, FoMA. So we settled instead on the Mount Athos Foundation of America, MAFA, and another round of filings was needed.
Cary Hall provided invaluable assistance in the early going, and other colleagues helped us draft the initial paperwork and 501(c)(3) application. In true Wyche spirit, these colleagues gave their time without reservation. Sometimes their zeal even exceeded my own. I still remember, with regret, having to leave two colleagues on a conference call with Bob Allison so that I could take a call with a billable client. Our efforts reached a milestone in April 2018, when the IRS at last approved our 501(c)(3) application.
Over the last six years MAFA has gone from strength to strength. To date we have raised some $700,000, made numerous grants for projects on Mount Athos, established a book prize, and awarded some ten scholarships for research. We have also collaborated on several publications and put on an exhibit in Boston titled “The Ark of Orthodoxy,” with panels highlighting each of the various Athonite monasteries. That exhibit will begin traveling around the U.S. soon, with a new exhibit opening in Boston in collaboration with Princeton University.
My Wyche colleagues have also continued to “pitch in” as I have served on MAFA’s board and been its unofficial legal counsel. I can always find guidance from various corners of the firm for my questions, whether they concern the legal landscape of grantmaking, nonprofit governance, or MOUs with collaborators in Greece; and our corporate paralegals have kept up with the (seemingly constant) regular filings. I have even had the opportunity to work with our Lex Mundi firm in Greece, Zepos & Yannopoulos.
But of MAFA’s work on Athos itself I had only a dim sense and was eager for a firsthand experience. The time for a return pilgrimage seemed right in 2024, when I learned two events would coincide. First, MAFA needed a representative to speak at a conference in Greece in early June 2024 of other national organizations, including FoMA, that did work on Athos. Second, FoMA’s annual pilgrimage to clear and maintain the kalderimi would be the two weeks prior to the conference. I could join the path clearers and then represent MAFA at the conference. I agreed to go.
Getting on the Holy Mountain for this second pilgrimage proved far easier, with FoMA shouldering the duty of planning and logistics. Our team started at the skete of the Prophet Elijah, high in the Athonite mountains and commanding a spectacular view down to the sea. We had been asked to find and clear the path down to an old mill that had been recently rediscovered.
Our days had a certain routine. We awoke around 6 AM, as bells were sounding for the monks to start their liturgy. About 6:30 we gathered for a spartan breakfast, heading out shortly after with our “loppers” and saws into the forest. The work, which was challenging, was punctuated by regular breaks, including one about noon for lunch. Around 3 PM we would pack up and return, arriving in time to take showers and join the monks for their vespers service, where Byzantine chant, incense, and cool breezes drifting in through open windows provided a sensual setting for reflecting on the day’s activities. Dinner followed, after which was time for conversation, enjoying the sunset, and writing in our journals.
My fellow team members were a delight. Our team leader was a retired brigadier in the Greek Air Force with a remarkable capacity for leading men. He showed me the proper way to cut through thick branches with my lopper, reducing both the effort required and preserving the sharpness of the blade. Two British men made up the rest of our team, one of whom was my roommate. He and I shared many interests, from botany to history to literature, and when he noticed I was reading a travelogue of Patrick Leigh Fermor, we found we shared a favorite writer too. If your definition of a “fun vacation” is sleeping in a dormitory at a monastery, eating a strict vegetarian diet, and doing heavy manual labor, you are bound to find some kindred spirits! I recall with deep gratitude the ease our team felt with one another during our breaks in the forest, as we sat drenched with sweat in the cool of the shade, listening quietly to the birdsong.
The work was immensely satisfying. Unlike legal work, which tends sometimes to drag and not produce tangible results, the fruits of our labor were visible. We discovered the old kalderimi leading to the mill, but it was much overgrown, likely not used for at least a century or more. At first I doubted our capacity to clear it, but over a couple days of strenuous effort we did. Walking back along a finished portion at the end of the day brought a delight that even the most well-crafted email or legal brief seldom affords. There in a pile were the briars I struggled with midmorning, here the branches I sawed back midday. Now the way was clear.
But I shouldn’t dismiss lightly the legal work, for I saw those fruits as well. Midweek, for example, I visited the cell of Axion Estin, which is being restored in part with funds from MAFA. The meaning of the cell’s name in Greek is “It is truly meet,” and refers to a beloved Orthodox anthem to the Virgin Mary revealed on the site of this cell. The energy and spirit of renewal there are strong. The Fathers are lovingly restoring the dilapidated buildings, and noted that on Athos even new things must be made to “look old.” They are also growing the numbers of their brotherhood. My final night I stayed at one of the larger monasteries on Athos, hoping to make connections there as the monastery has been named as the beneficiary of an American trust. The hope is that MAFA can help facilitate the trust’s gift. Conversations with the monastery’s leadership were encouraging, and we were given a special tour of the monastery’s treasury, which featured art, artifacts, and manuscripts of priceless value that few museums could equal.
Like the kalderimi on the Holy Mountain, Wyche too requires care. The way can easily be lost, and sometimes seeds of wisdom from our forebears in this place can be choked by the briars and brambles of modern life and legal practice. But those forebears too call out across the past century of practice that something more is possible, that a firm where excellent work, quality of life, and making a positive impact on the wider world can be achieved.
The mentor who in College first introduced me to Athos said at his retirement party, as he was dying of cancer, how grateful he had been for a career in which his own deep passions could be so seamlessly integrated with his work as a teacher. As I reflect on my trips to Athos, and the work Wyche is doing there, I feel in my own “deep heart’s core” a profound gratitude that his experience is also possible in this firm, and though the brambles will emerge, there are signposts that point the way, and co-laborers with me to clear the path.
