A Greek Name, a Hindu Path

My name is Chris Hatzis.

In Greek, Χρήστος (Christos) means “anointed” or “chosen.” It’s a name that carries weight in any religion involving Christ. But it’s my surname Hatzis that carries a deeper mystery.

The prefix “Hatzi” was once given to those who made pilgrimage to Jerusalem and were baptized there. It’s not just a name, it’s a title, an echo of a journey. Somewhere in my bloodline, someone must have travelled far for God. That pilgrimage, whoever made it, ended up etched into our name forever.

I only found out about this coincidentally.

I was having dinner with a Greek friend and his family.

He asked me about my last name and if it had been shortened. I said I had no idea.

I didn’t know anything about my dad’s side of the family.

He said the name was significant in our culture. I asked, “How?”

And he explained that whole story to me about pilgrimage, baptism, Jerusalem.

I was taken aback.

I called my dad.

“Did you know about this?” I asked.

He said he’d heard about it somewhere, years ago.

I said, “Any chance you could’ve told me?” My name is Chris.

I was born in Melbourne.

I grew up kicking a footy and watching The Simpsons most evenings with my family.

I’m Australian through and through.

But my roots are Greek and I grew up in a traditional Greek household, with all the customs, food, and expectations that come with it.

My father’s parents never wanted anything to do with their grandkids.

I only met them once, when I visited with my dad and my two brothers. That’s all I remember.

My mum’s side is from Patras.

My extended family is still there.

I didn’t meet most of them until I was 24.

My grandfather passed away when I was young.

My grandmother lived only a few doors down from me but I didn’t really know her well at all. She didn’t speak English, and I didn’t speak Greek.

We were close in distance, but far in understanding.

There was so much we didn’t know how to say.

Still, I’ve always felt a strong pull toward something deeper not from tradition, but from within.

I didn’t inherit a religious path. I found one. Or maybe it found me.

Ramana Maharshi.

The silent sage of Arunachala.

He didn’t give me a set of beliefs, he pointed me back to the self.

To silence. To what’s always here.

My path is Advaita Vedanta a deep current of Hindu mysticism that lives beyond dogma and ritual. It’s not something I was raised with.

It’s something I remembered.

Like a song I already knew the words to, even though I’d never heard it before.

Sometimes I think about my name Hatzis.

A title given to pilgrims.

I have a deep intuitive longing to visit Jerusalem.

I’ve followed what draws me, meditation, service, and the kind of silence that doesn’t ask for words.

I carry the name.

I walk the path.

That’s enough for now.