No Myth-Take

I have been thinking a lot about my patron saint, Great Martyr Barbara. In childhood and into my adolescence I was sometimes troubled by her hagiography- namely, its authenticity. As a girl, my skepticism arose from her story's parallels to the Rapunzel fairytale. Every account mentions the young woman's beauty and her isolation, and most mention her being confined to a tower. And while Rapunzel was rescued by a prince who scaled the tower using her tresses, Saint Barbara wandered out of her tower one day. The pagan beauty, living in comfort and ignorance of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, then came across Christians.

Now here the story sharply deviates from saccharine bedtime stories. (Let's not forget that the saint is adorned with a martyr's crown).  As Lives of Saints were my bedtime stories, I soon learned of Saint Barbara's torture and death after her clandestine conversion to Christianity. 

Some  hagiographers paint the the details in blood. Her body is not just scourged, her breasts are cut off. This detail, when combined with her desirability or her beauty, is an act steeped in misogynous fantasy. The aim seems to be to desecrate and degrade what cannot be appealed to with reason -"Renounce Christ and live"- and won't be the chattel of men. 

Saint Barbara's father spearheads his daughter's death. Villains are by the very definition, evil, but a father who wants their child dead could only be possessed. In medieval fairytales, the villains were envious step parents, rarely flesh and blood. Saint Barbara is eventually martyred by a beheading, and the villainous father is snuffed out by a well-aimed lightning bolt. We cheer at the swiftness of divine retribution.

In the Roman Catholic Church, Saint Barbara was revered as one of the 14 Auxillary Saints (Holy Helpers) until she was unceremoniously dropped in 1969 for being of questionable veracity. 

As an Orthodox receiving Catholic religious tuition at school, I largely chose to ignore Catholic teaching (apart from the art, love the art). But I was still rattled to learn my Saint no longer passed muster. How can you just drop a saint after 1700 years of reverence? Nearly 2000 years of naming daughters by her name? Come on, there are miracles tied to her and her relics are in Kiev! 

Lastly, how as a child, do you connect with the idea that loving and worshipping Christ can have some very brutal outcomes? I grew up just before the Cold War era ended (raised by a Soviet mother), and I was made plainly aware of the persecution of Christians. Other kids had Batman and Robin, while we had the Romanovs as our heroes. I wanted to preserve my life above everything , I wasn't ready for real persecution. I wanted the fairytale of Princess Anastasia surviving, not the basement of Ipatiev house where the Tsar's family were butchered. 

Then a quiet shift took place.

Every night I asked for Holy Great Martyr Barbara to intercede for me. The prayer book has an insert-patron-saint-name-here in the wrap-up prayers. I contemplated her icon which has hung near my bed since I was baptised. It's a real icon, written by my godmother. 

The real shift took place when I read a humble retelling of Saint Barbara's hagiography by an Palestinian activist and intellectual. In the caves overlooking the valley in Jericho, candles are lit for Saint Barbara on the eve of her feast day. A special dish of wheat barley is prepared. Saint Barbara is the patron Saint of Palestine and the activist wove her celebration and commemoration with the roots and the resilience of the Palestinians. 

Villagers in Aboud, Palestine, revere a cave where Saint Barbara reportedly hid. It also held her remains for hundreds of years before their removal to Ukraine. A shrine still stands at the site.

I followed the people of her place of repose - they are the custodians of her memory. In the Palestinian tradition, gone were the tower and the torture. Saint Barbara was a young woman who had a pagan father. She accepted Christ and her heart was transformed. She fled from her father when he became enraged at her turning from breaking away from family tradition. Saint Barbara took shelter in a cave in Aboud, Palestine. I don't see her as a beautiful girl, I see her as every girl who has ever feared or fled.

'In this rock shelter in Palestine, I'm closer to the land Christ's feet touched', she reasoned.

Shepherds soon discovered her hiding place and brought her food. Alas, some spies of her father came to hear of the young woman hiding in the wilderness. She was martyred for her belief in Christ, a love that saw her flee the comfort and luxury of her home for an ascetic life. 

Really, it's a story of ultimate humility and faith. We need the prayers of Great Martyr Barbara now more than ever. Her relics were moved from Palestine to Kiev, Ukraine, countries which are going through heartache and fratricide. She's a Saint for the suffering.