Syria is currently staging a two-act farce so perfectly timed it could only have been written by committee.
Act One.
Under Turkish-Istanbulite-Phanariot Sponsorship:
In the gilded hush of the Vatican, Patriarch John X of Antioch drops to one knee before Pope Leo XIV. The contract is already unrolled. “Your Holiness,” he whispers, “the flock is tired, the treasury is thinner than last year’s communion wine, and the Turks keep sending invoices. Would Rome consider… acquiring the Antiochian Orthodox Church? A modest down payment, perhaps a side chapel in St. Peter’s, and we can call the whole thing a historic reunion.”
The Pope smiles the smile of a man who has seen this particular real-estate listing before. “Worry not, dear brother. Everything will be handled… legally. For the good of the Faith, of course.”
Act Two.
Under Turkish-British Sponsorship in Dubai:
Meanwhile, somewhere in “liberated” Damascus, a gavel slams. Ahmed al-Sharaa—still answering to Abu Mohammad al-Julani when the cameras are off—stands behind a plywood podium stamped AUCTION AUTHORITY.
“Lot 24!” he announces. “The Syrian people’s remaining wheat, flour, and whatever bread the last bakeries haven’t yet eaten themselves. Going once… going twice…”
A thin crowd of citizens watches from the rubble. No one bids. They already know the winning offer will come from the same gentlemen who just bought the port, the oil, and the silence.
By Fr. Spyridon Tanous
