The three whole worlds I hold in my arms
a contemplation on the courage of Photini on my name day
My own three worlds.
As I stood in Divine Liturgy on Sunday, just minutes before Communion, a slice of sunshine warmed and illuminated the spot where I held my daughter close to me. Up until that moment, it had been a back-and-forth circus of potty breaks and snack requests, as my daughter's energetic two-year-old body volleyed between myself and my husband, playing out her usual games and expressing her "holy noise"... the traditional litany of Orthodox children and parents on Sunday morning. But in this rare moment, the comfort of warmth and light pouring through the stained-glass dome above us, my daughter became still and calm in my arms — a chance to notice the scent of incense on her head, mingled with the melting beeswax from a nearby candle stand, the softness of her hair against my cheek, a chance to kiss that spot where her nose curves in, right between her eyes, the breath of life coursing through her body against my chest.
This child carries within her an entire world. She is whole just as she is. She will grow, of course. She will, Inshallah (Lord Willing), become an adult, capable of expressing the world within her. But the value inherent in her does not change as she grows. It was fully realized the moment God gave her life.
And this is just one of the three whole worlds I hold in my arms as a mother. Each of my three daughters has a different and complete light she carries. Each of my daughters bears the image of God in her own unique and beautiful way.
A universal, inherent beauty.
The video below captures something of children that is universal. These two girls remind me of my 7- and 9-year old: from the bangs in the eyes down to their giggling camaraderie.
The major difference between these girls and my own is that my girls are safely in bed right now, very much alive, even sleeping on freshly cleaned sheets. The girls in this video, Sidra and Suzan Hassouna, were brutally murdered by US-backed Israeli forces while America ate pizza and wings and watched the Chiefs beat the 49ers in a production that was topped off with its own Israel-funded ad.
These two beautiful girls each held a whole world within them. Silenced.
Every single child, a world.
… each of the 36 Israeli children killed by Hamas on October 7th …
… each of the more than 10,000 Palestinian children killed in Gaza since October 7th …
… those killed in the cross-fire and those intentionally sought-out by IDF soldiers …
… all are images of God, silenced, desecrated by war, a war that began decades ago, with the violent displacement of 750,000 Palestinians from their homes.
The Woman at the Well and St. Porphyrius.
February 26th is my name day. In the Orthodox Christian Church, a name day is the day when one celebrates the feast day of their patron saint. My patron saint, which I chose when I converted into Orthodoxy, is Photini, a translation of my birth name, Clara. She is also known as the “Woman at the Well.” Photini, with a reckless thirst for truth and goodness, insisted on standing with her conscience despite the social and cultural norms of her times, and despite the violent persecution which eventually took her life. I can only pray for a fraction of her courage.
It is fitting that Photini shares a name day with St. Porphyrius of Gaza, the patron saint of the Orthodox church in Gaza that was struck on October 19th, 2023, killing 18 Palestinians who were taking refuge in the church fellowship hall.
A small community of Palestinian Christians, in the midst of this chaos, still attend services at St. Porphyrius, praying for an end to the violence. Their resilience, their faith, their hope in this darkness is inspiring. I wish a blessed feast day to those at St. Porphyrius Orthodox Church in Gaza. May God grant many years to the church parish and to each beautiful, unique world within your walls. May your church halls be filled with “holy noise” for years to come.
What I owe my girls.
What I owe the three whole worlds I hold — my girls — is not a life of caution but a life of authenticity. Someday my girls, who right now have a child’s understanding of world news, will come face-to-face with the Gaza genocide in all its ugly reality. They will ask me what I did, where I stood, whether I spoke up.
Beautifully said.