A Woman Deeply Troubled

There are times when I feel like Hannah in the Temple. Alone and emotional and crying at God. I’ve had several of these Hannah moments, and she’s become by favorite woman of the Old Testament. Her faithfulness is admirable. Her anguish is relatable.

But lately I’ve also started to think of Eli. He is well-regarded, wise, faithful. But he failed Hannah in her moment of pain. He sees only a crazed woman disrespecting the sacred space. He doesn’t see her pain. Instead, he accuses her of being drunk. And I can’t help but think part of his judgment comes from her being a woman, and a childless woman at that. She’s no one important. What concern is her spiritual struggle?

Hannah confronts him clearly: “But Hannah answered, ‘No, my lord, I am a woman deeply troubled; I have drunk neither wine nor strong drink, but I have been pouring out my soul before the Lord. Do not regard your servant as a worthless woman, for I have been speaking out of my great anxiety and vexation all this time’” (Samuel 1: 15-16). Eli realizes his error and prays that Hannah’s petitions be granted.

When Hannah has Samuel and dedicates him to the Temple as she promised, she recites what is called Hannah’s Song and what is a prefigurement of Mary’s Magnificat. Her prayer is considered a role model of prayer in Judaism and read during Rosh Hashanah. It’s beautiful and uplifting.

Yet I still identify most with Hannah in her low moment. They are moments of frustration and exhaustion and emotionality. But they are raw and real and healing. The communication with God is full of gripes and tears, but it’s still communication. It’s better to be in the Temple acting like a hot mess than not in the Temple at all.

St. Emilia

St. Emilia of Caesarea lived in the fourth century, just when Christianity was becoming widespread across Rome. She came from a wealthy family and married a lawyer/rhetorician named Basil. Together, they raised a strong Christian family. Several of her nine children are venerated as well: Sts. Basil the Great, Gregory of Nyssa, Peter of Sebaste, Naucratius, Theosebia (a deaconess), and Macrina the Younger (Macrina the Elder is Emilia’s mother-in-law, also venerated).

After her husband’s death, Emilia lived with her eldest daughter Marcrina. The women lived a life of study and devotion, attracting other women. The family’s property was turned into a monastic community for female virgins. The servants were treated as equals, and the women followed an ascetic way of life.

Somehow when I initially looked for a St. Emily, Emilia didn’t come up. She’s not as well-known in the West, but she had a strong role in the development of Eastern Christianity through her children. I like to imagine that she and Macrina got along as well as my own mother and me.

St. Emilia’s feast day is May 30. Her sons Basil and Gregory share a feast day on January 2. 

Go and See the Baby

The Christmas story tells us that God became man. He arrived a baby, to a poor family, on the outskirts of the empire. No one special on the surface. But people recognized something great about him. Wisemen traveled a great distance just to find him. The angel told the shepherds the message we all follow around Christmas: Go and see the baby.

Being at the age where friends are settling down means there’s suddenly babies in my life. While I’m struggling with myself, these people are creating whole new people and keeping those tiny, soft people alive. There’s a je ne sais quoi to their big eyes taking it all in and trying to make sense of the their world.

And the world around them has changed by their presence. The parents, grandparents, and friends are all enthralled by the babies, their personalities, their schedules, their every milestone. And everyone wants to see the baby. Looking at it, holding it, be able to stop it from crying—we feel better about ourselves just by being with the baby.

I always thought it would be cool to be pregnant during Advent. But I never really thought about having a baby during Christmas. I don’t think the shepherds or wisemen were brimming with 20-something female hormones, but they still were enthralled by a baby. And we think it’s because that baby is God. But it’s also because that baby is human. Babies are enthralling: so much potential in such a small, squishy body. So much joy and love around it. It seems contradictory that God would come to us in such a humble way, but really, I can’t imagine any better one.