When I was a young
man I
met a then-elderly archaeologist who
had done
work in what is now Albania between the First and Second World Wars. He told about getting stranded in the
spring in an Albanian village because a bridge over a river
had washed out. The local priest invited him to the service in
honor of a local saint, which consisted of a procession up to a ruined ancient temple where a ceremony was conducted in
honor of St.
Zeus. He was informed that he was a powerful saint who threw thunderbolts at God's direction. He was also informed that the Muslim village across the river thought he was a Muslim holy
man, which the priest thought was very silly of them.