What Was Saint Barbara’s Miracle?

What was Saint Barbara’s miracle? According to the legend, Saint Barbara was a beautiful young woman who lived in the 3rd century AD. Her father, Dioscorus, was a pagan and kept her locked in a tall tower to protect her from the world. Barbara didn’t mind — until one day, she made a strange request.

There were only two windows in her tower, and Barbara asked for a third one. In G.K. Chesterton’s poem The Ballad of Saint Barbara, she addresses the servants:

And cried through the lifted thunder of thronging hammer and hod

‘Throw open the third window in the third name of God.’

Upon his return from Africa, her father was surprised and asked her,

Hath a man three eyes, Barbara, a bird three wings,

That you have riven roof and wall to look upon vain things?”

Barbara’s answer is strange, to say the least. In the voice of one “whose soul has drunk of the rivers of liberty,” she replies that “there are more wings than the wind knows, and more eyes than see the sun.” She explains that from the first window she will see the sea; from the second, she will see dry land.

But out of the third lattice under low eaves like wings

Is a new corner of the sky and the other side of things.

As G.K. Chesterton poignantly said, “spiritual sight is stereoscopic, just like physical sight.” Our two physical eyes perceive two different images of reality. If you close one eye and then the other, you’ll notice objects shift position — each eye sees its own version of the world. But when we open both eyes, we see those two images at once.

Together they create depth — the third picture. Stereoscopic vision means seeing two pictures combined into one — the third one. That’s why we all need the third window— to see “the other side of things.” For St. Barbara, the other side of things is “the third name of God.”

What is the third name of God? The Wind, the Spirit, the Breath. Before her father beheaded her, Barbara rose and bore witness to what she saw through her third window:

‘I have looked forth from a window that no man now shall bar,

Caesar’s toppling battle-towers shall never stretch so far.

The slaves are dancing in their chains, the child laughs at the rod,

Because of the bird of the three wings, and the third face of God.’

She saw that birds always fly on three wings, not two—the third one is the Spirit. Man sees with three eyes, not two — the third one is the Spirit. When we see depth, we see Spirit everywhere. He is behind it all — “the Third One.” The third name of God allows us to see. Without the “Third One” we see only a flat world — no depth.

Looking through the third window, which “no man now shall bar,” Barbara saw slaves dancing in their chains and children laughing at the rod. She saw the other side of things. She saw what Isaiah saw,

“The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid.” Isaiah 11:6

She saw opposites engulfed by the Kingdom of God. The third window allows us to see past dualities and perceive the breath of the Third One behind all things. Before the “third face of God,” all idols of divided consciousness are transcended. Barbara rose above her father’s idolatry — his refusal to break open the “third window.”

If we see the world in twos, our consciousness will always be split between the two. If we break open the third window, we will gain a mystical vision and grasp the unity of all things. Ironically, Dioscorus, who saw the world in twos and beheaded his own daughter, was split in two by a sudden lightning bolt that came out of the blue.

“But the blue sky split with a thunder-crack, spat down a blinding brand,

And all of him lay back and flat as his shadow on the sand.” – G.K. Chesterton

What is the Difference Between Facts and History

What is the difference between facts and history? When I read my history textbook back in school, I often thought: Gosh, there are so many facts about this or that person or event, but so little story. Isn’t history supposed to be a story?

For some reason, I felt that facts ought to cohere into a story. They didn’t.

The same thing happened just yesterday after I read Pavel Florensky’s biography on Wikipedia. The article lists many “historical” facts about his life, yet somehow misses the point of who he was entirely. Speaking of his last years before his execution in 1937, it states:

“On November 15, 1934, he began working at the Solovetsky camp iodine production plant, where he focused on the extraction of iodine and agar-agar from seaweed and patented four scientific innovations.”

The passage almost sounds as if he was simply assigned this work by the authorities. He wasn’t. It was his conscious choice.

Researching and extracting iodine from seaweed allowed Florensky to remain spiritually alive and sane in a death camp. He knew perfectly well that Solovki would most likely become his grave, and so he chose to pursue something that filled him with life. And he succeeded. Everyone who met him there was astonished by how much life this man radiated in the face of death.

Wikipedia missed the most essential thing — the Wonder he perceived, embodied, and sought in all things.

Four months into his term, he wrote to his son about the mysterious beauty of permafrost:

“What resulted were fairytale-like caves made of the purest crystal ice — radiant ice, fibrous ice, white ice, and at the bottom, reddish-brown, yet completely transparent… I don’t have the ability to describe how beautiful it is, nor can I draw it. One day, you’ll see a series of sketches of the columns and other details, but even those sketches don’t come close to conveying the beauty of these caves. I doubt that any artist could truly capture it — it’s too difficult a task. It’s better to read fairy tales.”

This passage tells us more about Florensky than all the facts combined. Why?

Because history does not consist of facts. The word history comes from the Ancient Greek ἵστωρ (hístōr), meaning a wise man or a witness. History is the story of a witness.

To know history, you must have seen something — physically or spiritually (or both). History is not so much the retelling of past events as it is the testimony about something seen. The “history” in my school textbook was not history in this proper sense. It did not consist of stories told by witnesses. It was a compilation of facts: who did what, when, how, and why.

Facts without vision do not make history. Witness does.

What was Pavel Florensky like? Reading Wikipedia is not enough. In fact, it leads one astray. To know him, I must become a witness to his life — by reading his own books or the accounts of those who truly witnessed him.

hístōr is someone who sees. I must see Pavel Florensky inwardly while reading his words. Only then will I know true history. Facts are part of history, but they do not constitute it. The most important moments of history rarely make it to the official record. Wonder cannot be archived.

Florensky did not remain spiritually alive in Solovki by accident, nor did he “labor” there in the usual sense of the word. He bore witness — to beauty in permafrost, to meaning in degradation, to life where death expected to reign alone.

That is history indeed.