The Laughing Wolf

The theology class I just finished included a section on the Hagia Sophia cathedral and it’s interactions with theology. When this pilgrimage moved from a day dream into reality and plans were moving along, I started quietly looking into doing a day trip with two main goals: visit the Hagia Sophia and then go visit the “Iron Church.” Going by air was expensive (not to mention a PITA in general); bus travel was an option but was long; and, then, there were trains. In fact, I had read about night trains to various cities and liked the idea.

Only problem was that you can’t buy tickets for the night train to Istanbul online. So, I went in person and was able to get the tickets about a week ago without having to get my landlord to translate by phone (something she kindly offered to do). Round trip, second class, with what turned out to be effectively a private sleeper cabin (technically someone else could have been put in with me) was less than $100. I will have to check the bank statement, but after adjusting Euro to Dollar I think it was between $70 and $90. Again, that is round trip.

So, I showed up at the Sofia main train station and was allowed to board about an hour before departure. The sleeper cars were part of the Turkish railway system, and when we got to Turkish territory the Bulgarian locomotive was switched out for a Turkish locomotive. Someone had warned me there wasn’t a restaurant car, so I had water and such with me and ate not long before our 6 pm departure. Turns out I really should have brought some breakfast along as we did not get to Istanbul quite as early as I had thought we would.

My plan had been to get some breakfast in Istanbul, then head to the Hagia Sophia. My “impression” had been that we would arrive around 7 am and instead we finally got there about 10 am. Side note: on the way back I had the impression we would be back around noon and instead got back around 1. Going to budget more time if I do something like this again.

One thing that did go as planned was getting from the train station to the area of the Hagia Sophia. There was a “metro” train that runs from the rail station through Istanbul, and I hopped off at the stop indicated by both people in advance and the Moovit app on my phone. More on it later on a pure travel post, but it even indicated which exit from the station to use to be on the way to the Hagia Sophia.

Navigation was easy using Apple Maps on the phone. Once I was out of the station, I checked where I was, found the site, and walked the route it chose. Under other circumstances, it might have been a very pleasant walk. However, I had failed to realize that I was there on Eid, and every Muslim who could get to Istanbul had done so in order to visit the Blue Mosque and other sites as it was also the start of three days with most things (various markets and such) shut down. Add that to the normal tourist load and it was extremely crowded (understatement).

A number of us made progress getting up the hill by walking in the trolley track when they weren’t using it. My own preferred method was swing out, pass group slowing things down, then cut back in before another trolley came along. I thought of taking a trolley up; but, they were packed tighter than a sardine can and there was a wait to get on any of them. So, walking I went.

At the top of the hill, I found yet more crowds and a lot of hustlers and scam artists offering to act as guides and such. Danger Will Robinson Danger! Long story, but I did let one young man guide me to where I wanted to go and went inside the Hagia Sophia by myself. When I did come out, he took me to the family business where his older brother was disappointed to find out that I wasn’t supposed to buy anything or even accept the $2,500 rug gift he offered (I didn’t fall off the turnip truck yesterday) given the nature of the pilgrimage.

That matter dealt with, I then headed to my second “must do” of the day, visiting the “Iron Church” properly known as St. Stephen of the Bulgars church. It is also made of pre-fabricated cast iron. The story is a long one and wrapped up with the history of the Bulgarian Orthodox Church and how it came into being. The short version is that the original wooden structure was rotting given the wet seaside ground; stone was too heavy for the soil in the area; and, it was decided to show that Bulgaria (and it’s Church) were part of the modern era.

Technically, you could say this church was built twice. Once in Vienna where the iron was cast, and once in Istanbul where the 500 pieces were reassembled. The pieces were shipped down the Danube then across the Black Sea. Various parts were/are even painted to look like marble. It is a fascinating structure and a solid working church that was a pleasure to visit.

That said, I almost didn’t get there. When I was up at the Hagia Sophia, the map said it was around two miles and would take more than an hour to get there. I walked back down the hill to the metro station, checked again, and it said just under two miles and an hour to walk there. My response to that was ??? I don’t move as fast as I used to, but can still walk a good clip on level ground. This was now level ground. Again, I had forgotten the crowds, and they did indeed make the early going slow. Once I got out from the worst of them, I could, would, and did make good time. I’m very glad I went and need to thank my friend Angel for recommending it to me.

The true high point, literal and figurative, was the visit to the Hagia Sophia. It’s actually the third church built on the site. The first was replaced by a larger church. That church was then damaged/destroyed during anti-Justinian riots and Justinian saw an opportunity. He wanted the new structure to be the greatest Christian church in the world, and to set the bar for future basilicas/cathedrals. This would, of course, show the glory of the Empire and it’s commitment to Christianity. Once source I’ve read says that when he saw it completed that Justinian remarked “Solomon, I have outdone you!” in reference to the temple in Jerusalem.

The two designers/architects of the church, Anthemius of Tralles and Isidore of Miletus, definitely got their sums right. They not only designed and built the largest and grandest church of the day; but, it has withstood time and earthquakes as well. Right now, it is undergoing major renovations to repair damage from an earthquake and to make it even more earthquake proof. Which is a very good thing in my book, even if it does make photographing the grandeur a bit of a challenge.

The basilica was the perfect design for the extroverted service used in the capital of the Empire. Going to church didn’t mean going and sitting quietly in the same spot of the same pew every time. Services might start at one church or holy spot (often a site dedicated to a saint) then process across the city, possibly stopping at several other sites before arriving at the basilica where the emperor (or designate) would pray and open the Royal Doors from the Narthex into the church, which was the signal for everyone to enter through the 35 doors into the church.

Keep in mind that a service at the Hagia Sophia almost literally involved a cast of thousands. I can’t find my notes right now, but I seem to recall that there were up to 1,100 door wardens, 80 or so deacons, 60 or so deaconesses, and a few others involved with each service. The men filled the floor of the church and the women went up to the second floor, where the empress had a special area set aside for her and women from the court. The emperor had a special area on the main floor that allowed him to both view and take part as required.

The altar area actually was out among the people, with an open and airy structure around it to separate it from the main part of the church. Keep in mind that the current Orthodox solid iconostasis is fairly modern thing that got started around the 14th and 15th centuries. The actual altar was under a canopy structure within it. The ambo, or raised speaker’s platform was closer to the center of the church and had two interesting features. One was a raised walkway from the altar area so the priests and others could get to it through the crowds. The other was that under the ambo was a lower area for the professional choir. They were not visible to those on the main floor, but the idea was that having their voices come out of the air as it were, would encourage the laity to join in the singing. Even today the acoustics are amazing.

The years have taken a toll, as has the conversion into a mosque then museum and recently back into a mosque. The ambo and choir area are long gone, as is the solea and iconostasis and the direct connection to the emperor’s palace. That said, some of the original mosaics and such still survive. The Theotokos and Child is still there above the nave, screened from general view by fabric. Those glimpses of the rich decoration give you some idea of what it must have originally been like.

The key feature of the Hagia Sophia is, however, the dome. It was an architectural and engineering marvel that appeared to float above the church. The innovative use of arches and special triangular support structures gave the illusion that it was floating, so much so that when it opened people were literally afraid that it might stop floating and fall on them. You can’t really get the full effect today, but enough can be seen to give you at least some small idea.

Ah, to have seen it when it first opened and to have attended a service there. That said, getting to see it now — particularly after studying it in the theology class — is a treat and a bucket-list item. If I ever return to Istanbul, particularly at a less crowded time, I would love to go back and to also see some of the items pulled from the church that still exist. There are a few other places to see and things to do there, but to visit the Hagia Sophia again would be the top thing to do.

If you would like to help me with this trip, seminary courses, and more, feel free to hit the fundraiser at A New Life on GiveSendGo, use the options in the Tip Jar in the upper right, or drop me a line to discuss other methods. I’ve added Cash App ($CliffPow7) and Venmo (@Clifford-Powers-5). There is also the Amazon Wish List in the Bard’s Jar. Getting hit by lightning is not fun! It is thanks to your gifts and prayers that I am still going. Thank you.

on the train back to Sofia more soon

Some have asked: why Bulgaria? The fact is, the church I joined is part of the Bulgarian Patriarchate for the U.S., Canada, and Australia (and sometimes other countries they aren’t quite sure what to do with initially). We are known to some in the Orthodox community as “the converts church” I’ve come to find out, because our original members were all converts to Orthodoxy, and we continue to accept converts who have no tie to Bulgaria or the Bulgarian church. We are, in fact, mostly American converts along with some Russian, Ukrainian, and Romanian (I think) members. The other Bulgarian Orthodox church in Indianapolis is composed of families and/or members who immigrated from Bulgaria.

So, the fact is that most of us converts have no ties to Bulgaria. Part of my spiritual development on this pilgrimage has been learning about the history of the Church in Bulgaria and more about the saints and others who made the Church what it is today.

One of those is St. John of Rila (St. Ivan Rilski), who was the first Bulgarian hermit, first saint, and is the patron saint of the Bulgarian Church. While we have an icon of him, and know a bit about him, he doesn’t necessarily get the attention he is due in some respects. Until this trip, he has not been a major part of my spiritual life (see this for more info). More on that in a minute.

The short version of his life is that he was born in 876 in or near Serdika (modern Sofia) and was orphaned at an early age. He hired out as a cow herder, and one of his first miracles involved the recovery of a missing calf. The owner, who had beaten him for the calf (and/or mother) being missing was hiding and watching when St. John found the calf, and making the sign of the Cross on his cloak, used it to still the flood waters and return it safely to its mother. Somewhat terrified at what he had done in beating the child/youth, the man rewarded him richly — which John fairly promptly gave away.

He was a hermit in the area of modern Sofia, and the monastery where I’ve been attending services on Sunday is believed to be on the site where he had a hermitage. Depending on the source, people recognized that he was no ordinary hermit and so came to visit. The Bulgarian king even wanted to meet him, among other notables. All the attention, however, was not to his liking and after sending a polite letter declining to meet with the king, he took off for the area around Rila where he reportedly lived for a time in a hollow tree.

Discovered once more, he ended up taking residence in a cave up a rather steep climb (I did it, fell flat on my face at the base). There was a spring nearby providing running water, and it was a while before the dedicated group of students caught up with him again. They built a small church just outside/below his cave, and tried to protect him from visitors.

Today, his major relics are in the Church at the Rila Monastery built in his honor. I got the distinct impression that the monks consider the fact that it is now a major tourist destination a very mixed blessing. I rather strongly suspect he would be horrified at it on several levels.

As for me, I’ve come to empathize with him quite a bit, particularly after watching the news. I’ve joked a few times on this pilgrimage about wondering how much a gently used cave might cost, either here in Bulgaria or on Mt. Athos where I saw a couple that were unoccupied. It would, after all, be fairly close to what I was thinking of doing if/when I moved to the Southwest.

To skip back to his part in this journey, I offer the following. I venerate him but he has not been one of those that has been a large part of my spiritual life. When this pilgrimage became more than a dream, I asked him to help guide it, especially my visit to him. I mentioned it before, but once here, I wasn’t guided to go to Rila on a certain day as much as I was told to do so. I did, and while there — among other things that happened — I was given the chance to venerate his relics. That was just one of several things that happened that day, and I do feel that he was behind them and behind my getting the most possible out of that visit and some other things.

It’s left me with a good bit to think about, and to talk over with my priest and others. There’s a lot that has happened that is not mine to share, and a lot where I’m having trouble putting parts into words. I will simply state that this trip has indeed been rich and rewarding for spiritual growth and discernment.

If you would like to help me with this trip, seminary courses, and more, feel free to hit the fundraiser at A New Life on GiveSendGo, use the options in the Tip Jar in the upper right, or drop me a line to discuss other methods. I’ve added Cash App ($CliffPow7) and Venmo (@Clifford-Powers-5). There is also the Amazon Wish List in the Bard’s Jar. Getting hit by lightning is not fun! It is thanks to your gifts and prayers that I am still going. Thank you.

Outside of the deliberate misrepresentation that traditional faiths worship saints, the largest misconception about traditional faith is that we worship icons. And, yes, I do consider it a deliberate and willful misrepresentation of truth, faith, and more. It is a heresy and the last gasp of iconoclasm in the service of the evil one. Too strong for you? Hang on, I will do my best to explain a book’s worth of theology in a single blog post. Can’t be done, but I will at least give you some broad strokes and the grounds for future discussions and explorations.

Fact is, icons have been a part of Christianity. From. The. Start. Just like the veneration of relics, a topic for another day (or year as that too is multiple books). Part comes from the fact that early Christianity (up until well past middle age even) (well, what did you expect, I am a PUNdit after all) was an oral tradition, not a written. As I have discussed before, the early Church (and even unto the 1700s) was based on oral tradition and not literary/written.

Per some previous discussions, go read Matthew, and then read Luke. Two things jump out. First, Matthew was written for an oral tradition including things done to enhance memorization. Luke, in addition to clearly having talked with the Theotokos (Mary, the mother of God), was a literate man who wrote a literary work. It clearly reads as such, and he was one of the few if not the only Apostle who was literate in that he could both read and write. Look at the Epistles and note that in many cases they list who wrote down the words and that they would be sent WITH THE LETTER to verify and explain as needed.

The other thing a lot of other people don’t know or don’t get is that Luke was one of the first (if not the first) iconographers. In fact, of the several with which he is credited, at least four are believed to survive to this day. One of those icons is said to have been painted upon wood from the table where the Holy Family ate. Yes, he is credited with taking the supper table of Christ as a youth and using the wood from it for an icon.

There is a lot that could be said about the seventy or so icons he is said to have created. However, I will simply note that one of the most famous, The Directress, has spawned thousands of copies. It simply depicts Christ the babe in the lap of Mary, with her pointing at him with emphasis indicating HE is the way, the truth and the light. That was the role the Theotokos chose in life, to point to him, to guide people to him. In many respects, it is still her role.

I will again point out an interesting thing I noted a while back. Of the icons attributed to Luke, the Theotokos is almost identical in each, while the figure of Christ can change rather dramatically. To me, it strongly indicates that he did indeed meet and talk with the Theotokos, and that — per scripture — he never met Christ in the flesh. Think about that for a bit, and consider that his icons were accepted not only by the Theotokos, but the fathers of the Church as well. Do you really think that if they were a blasphemy or wrong that no one would have spoken out? Just a thought to consider.

Let’s set aside such things for a moment, and discuss: what is an icon? In the broadest strokes, an icon is a depiction of a person that captures the totality of their work or life and provides a means of two-way communication between the person venerating and the person or persons depicted within the icon. Icons have been described as “windows into Heaven” in that the person or persons being depicted are the only people we know for sure are in Heaven, and the icon offers a path for mutual communication with them.

Now, I’m not saying that the icon comes to life and actually talks with you. It has happened, and I just had the chance to venerate one such icon while in Greece. That icon of the Theotokos (the Virgin Mary) spoke three times to the nuns of a monastery warning them to take everything they could and flee. The third time it spoke they listened, gathered up what they could, and fled. A few hours later a guerilla force sacked the monastery.

Yet another was at the Vatopedi monastery on Mount Athos, and I also had the chance to venerate, study, and pray before it. That icon spoke to warn the abbot not to open the gate one day, as pirates lay in wait for them to do so, so they could sack the monastery. In fact, that icon did in effect come to life, with the infant Jesus trying to stop her from talking, saying the monks deserved what was to come because they were not honoring their vows. She pulled down his hand and repeated the warning, which was heeded. Turns out, when they cautiously checked, the pirates were seen and had large rocks dropped on them, and surprisingly they ran away rather than pressing the sack as was normal. In the aftermath, the icon returned to something close to its original form, save that the infant Jesus’s hand was still in the process of being pulled down and he has a rather angry look on his face. The original fresco was very carefully removed and preserved with those changes; and, a new fresco was put up restoring the happy smiling infant Jesus with his hands where they were originally. The miracle icon is now in a special chapel above the main church, and I found it to be incredibly powerful.

This also brings up the matter of materials. The fact is, there is no limit. Many are painted (written) on wood. Others are done with mosaics, while yet others are done as plaster frescoes. Some more modern ones are copies printed and mounted on wood. I’m looking at one right now that is technically a photograph, but is accepted as an icon. We just had a very interesting discussion in the recent theology class that even something done by AI using prompts from an iconographer who did the prayers and other preparations could be an icon.

Again, the materials don’t matter. According to the seventh ecumenical council (which ended iconoclasm), what matters is: it has to depict a person and not an object; it has to be historical, and not of a dream, legend, etc.; it has to show the totality of a life or event in a life; and, it has to provide two-way communications. There is more, and I’m skipping a lot to keep this a reasonable length, but one final thing is that it has to be able to be venerated by people.

When you go into any number of Greek or Eastern Orthodox churches, you will find saints at ground/eye level, often grouped together by various criteria. The idea is that those icons not only tell the story of the saint(s) in question, but are where the laity can access them. Above them you often find religious art (not icons) depicting the life of Christ. Above that you may have one (or more, Russian Orthodox churches often have five levels I’m told) levels depicting individuals, events, etc. None of the higher levels are considered icons as no one can reach them to venerate them.

A quick aside in regards a lot of the artwork and illustrations seen in traditional churches. As I mentioned above, the early Church was based on an oral tradition not a literary one as few were literate. Instead, the laity and what became the clergy memorized scripture and the books of the Old Testament. The artwork was a memory prompt, as it immediately brought up the scripture associated with the event depicted. When someone wanted to know how many times or in how many places something was discussed, they didn’t have the internet and such. What they did have were people who had memorized content and could think about and then tell you the answer and provide you with the citations as they went.

Now, a couple of other things to share about icons. First up, they have to provide the whole picture as it were. One of the most famous icons, Christ Pantocrator, really threw me the first time I saw it as Christ has two different eyes in historically accurate versions. One eye reflects his divine nature while the other reflects his human nature (two natures separate but united). For those interested, a little tidbit from the recent class. That icon was originally on the walls at a gate into Constantinople and was copied onto the ceiling of a monastery in the Holy Lands. After Constantinople fell, the one in the monastery was copied and spread as the original was lost.

You are going to find a lot of things like that in icons, particularly Byzantine icons. It has to represent the whole, not a snapshot of one brief moment in time. How that was accomplished varied, and for those interested it grew out of the synthesis of Semitic and Hellenistic art in iconography and religious art. Hellenistic artwork tended to be heavily realistic and striving for beauty, while the Semitic was focused less on beauty and more on message. Those “models” if you will, and the synthesis of same, defined much of the iconography and religious art of the early Church.

One other thing you are likely to notice is that perspective is off. Part of that comes from trying to depict the whole rather than a moment; and, part comes from the fact that it is not your viewpoint that drives things, but God’s. The perspective is different because it puts you into the icon as a participant and not a viewer. The world isn’t centered and doesn’t revolve around you, you are a part of the events not separate from them.

Another neat little fact is that indoor scenes always show as outdoor or without a roof/ceiling/etc. This is because nothing is hidden from God. Roof, tent, etc., God sees you as if they are not there. So, they are not present in the icon. Also, the gold background on classical Byzantine icons is intended to represent infinity. It is only in later Byzantine iconography that dark or shaded backgrounds came about, possibly reflecting the darkness as the empire fell.

Now, for the above two paragraphs, you can see what I’m talking about in Byzantine icons of the Annunciation. Though inside, no roof. Perspective on most puts you in the picture and not as a viewer of it. It’s not one brief moment shown; rather, the complete story is depicted using a variety of techniques.

By the way, neither icons or religious art are supposed to depict the Father as a bearded old man, or the Holy Spirit as a dove and the Lord as a lamb. On the former, based on all the Greek Orthodox churches I went into, that has to be the most cheerfully violated bit of canon law out there. On the latter, I can’t count how often that pops up in Protestant art in particular.

There is a lot more that I could say, and I’ve probably not done the best job on what I have said. All errors are mine and mine alone. But, it is a start and hopefully there is fuller discussion of individual points to come. There have literally been books written on these subjects: just the difference in how Orthodoxy depicts the Crucifixion versus the Roman Catholic Church is easily a few thousand words.

Hopefully, however, this gives you a start on understanding icons and iconography. I want to emphasize that per more than one ecumenical council they are not idolatry (and I haven’t yet touched the paganism behind iconoclasm). Rather, they are windows and appeals into heaven which, even unto this day, bring about miracles. There is hopefully a lot more to come on this topic.

If you would like to help me with this trip, seminary courses, and more, feel free to hit the fundraiser at A New Life on GiveSendGo, use the options in the Tip Jar in the upper right, or drop me a line to discuss other methods. I’ve added Cash App ($CliffPow7) and Venmo (@Clifford-Powers-5). There is also the Amazon Wish List in the Bard’s Jar. Getting hit by lightning is not fun! It is thanks to your gifts and prayers that I am still going. Thank you.

Back in this post, I mentioned getting to meet St. Gregory Palamas and alluded to a story behind wanting to meet him. Thought today would be a good time to do so, and to set the stage for a long-promised discussion on icons, specifically Byzantine icons, and the difference between such and religious art.

This image of St. Gregory Palamas (borrowed from the OCA website) is fairly typical of those I saw in Thessaloniki. Almost all depict him in a similar manner, with a reddish-brown beard and a fairly full head of hair. For the record, I figure the locals (as it were) might know a bit more about what he looked like in real life.

I want to note, however, that icons are not intended to be snapshots. Indeed, the purpose of an icon is to present the whole story and not just a snapshot of one part of it. Hence he is shown as a doctor of the Church but with elements that are intended to show the entire picture of monk-theologian-archbishop. The eyes here are intended to show intelligence, while many of the others I saw tended to show more thoughtfulness.

Which is a bit different from the icon of him in my church back in Indianapolis. The image there shows him with a somewhat longer face, black hair, and if I remember correctly not a full head of hair. Or as bushy a beard. The eyes of that icon are also very different. To put it bluntly, if you are anywhere other than directly in front of him (and sometimes even then) it looks like he’s giving you the side-eye. A very judgemental side-eye. Particularly as you venerate another saint nearby.

A friend of mine and I have talked and laughed about it, but I admit it is a little unsettling as one of the points/criteria for something to be an icon is that there is two-way communication. It is not just a painted piece of wood, but something where communication can and does flow both ways. Which makes the apparent side-eye a bit uncomfortable.

Now, my solution was to start talking to him. Note, yet again, we do not pray to the saints; rather, we talk to them and ask them to pray and intercede for us since they are the only people we know are truly in heaven. In my case, I started with just a simple request to pray and intercede for me. Then I started taking the recent theology course and asked for his guidance, prayers, and intercession with it and any other course I took, and with conveying accurately and properly what I learned to others. I pointed out that I was never going to be the theologian he was, which means I need all the help I can get with the courses and with sharing. As plans for the pilgrimage progressed, I also asked him (among others) to pray and intercede so I got the most out of it.

When plans not only came together, but I knew I was going to get the chance to visit Thessaloniki for a couple of days, I resolved to visit where he was interred and to venerate his relics if possible. He was one of two saints who I feel stepped up (unexpectedly in my view) and helped ensure that I truly did get the most out of this pilgrimage, and I wanted to say thank you in person as it were.

So, when I got to Thessaloniki and I knew I had about six hours to explore, his church was the first one I visited. Yes, I did thank him and have asked him to keep guiding me on matters theological, with courses, and with sharing what I’ve learned with others.

If you want to know a bit more about him, this is a good place to start. Personally, I think there is more to him than just hesychasm though it is a large part of his story. His teachings are a fundamental part of current Orthodox beliefs and teachings, and I will note that he served as Archbishop of Thessaloniki for roughly nine years. I’m glad I got to meet him, and wanted to share a bit of the story behind that with you.

If you would like to help me with this trip, seminary courses, and more, feel free to hit the fundraiser at A New Life on GiveSendGo, use the options in the Tip Jar in the upper right, or drop me a line to discuss other methods. I’ve added Cash App ($CliffPow7) and Venmo (@Clifford-Powers-5). There is also the Amazon Wish List in the Bard’s Jar. Getting hit by lightning is not fun! It is thanks to your gifts and prayers that I am still going. Thank you.

No, not the Hagia Sophia in Istanbul, but the smaller one in Thessaloniki. The city is filled with churches, some of which are the oldest such outside of the Holy Lands. I’m going to cover the Hagia Sophia in another post, but it set the bar for basilicas around the world. This church, built on the ruins of a previous basilica, was the cathedral in Thessaloniki for many years.

The church is known for it’s mosaics and it is indeed well worth the view. It is also home to the holy relics of St. Basil the Confessor, and a recent addition: relics of Saints Sophia, Faith, Love, and Hope. Sadly, the photo I took of those relics appears not to have turned out (could have sworn it had). Over the last couple of years, these saints have turned up in my life. Their story is one I will share with you, in a somewhat abbreviated form.

The emperor, Hadrian, first tried to get each daughter to renounce their faith and each, in a private meeting with the emperor, refused to do so. So did Sophia. Hadrian then ordered them to be tortured until they renounced their faith, and in a twist of cruelty ordered that the young girls be tortured and Sophia forced to watch. The idea being that either one of the children would break, causing the others to do so as well; or, that Sophia would break and renounce her faith in order to save her daughters.

The tortures were standard for the time and rather hideous, and I will skip over them here. If you don’t know about wheels, grates, and the like, do yourself a favor and don’t look them up. What matters is that when it became clear that none of them would renounce Christ, the girls were beheaded and are reported to have willingly offered their necks to the sword. As a final act of cruelty, Hadrian purportedly let Sophia have the bodies and take them from the city. She did so, and buried them on a hillside away from Rome. She then sat down by the graves until she too passed three days later. Other Christians buried her beside her daughters, and in the 700s the remains were transferred to a church.

I’ve had the thought that I would like to visit the church where the relics reside, but apparently portions of them were shared with the Agia Sophia. It was a moving moment for me as while I don’t understand their connection with me, I am glad that I did get this opportunity to venerate them.

If you would like to help me with this trip, seminary courses, and more, feel free to hit the fundraiser at A New Life on GiveSendGo, use the options in the Tip Jar in the upper right, or drop me a line to discuss other methods. I’ve added Cash App ($CliffPow7) and Venmo (@Clifford-Powers-5). There is also the Amazon Wish List in the Bard’s Jar. Getting hit by lightning is not fun! It is thanks to your gifts and prayers that I am still going. Thank you.