17 September 2025

Wisdom, Faith, Hope and Love:
celebrating four virtues that are
so needed in the world today

Saint Sophia and her three daughters, Faith, Hope and Love … an icon by Alexandra Kaouki of Rethymnon

Patrick Comerford

The calendar of the Greek Orthodox Church today (17 September) has been commemorating Saint Sophia and her three daughters, Faith (Pistis), Hope (Elpis), and Love (Agape), who were martyrs in the early second century during the reign of the Emperor Hadrian.

My friend the icon writer Alexandra Kaouki of Rethymnon last night posted her own icon of these four martyrs, Sophia, Faith, Hope and Charity.

For a long time, I simply thought that these four women – a mother was a pious or figurative representation of Wisdom as the mother of the three theological virtues, Faith, Hope and Love. But I learned more about them and the traditions and icons associated with them when I was back in Crete for Easter this year and last year.

Saint Sophia and her daughters Pistis, Elpis and Agape depicted in a fresco in the Church of the Transfiguration in Piskopianó in Crete (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

When I was back in the village of Piskopianó in the hills above Hersonissos last year, I visited once again the new Church of the Transfiguration. Gradually, and piece-by-piece, the church is being filled with new and interesting frescoes, with more added each time I return to the village over the years.

Because it is a very wide church, compared to its length, it has a large number of walls and pillars to be filled with frescoes, and it is interesting to see how their themes are being chosen thoughtfully and carefully.

One pillar has been filled with those four figures I often see in churches in Greece but seldom see outside Greece: Saint Sophia and her daughters Pistis, Elpis and Agape.

For a long time, I simply thought that was a pious or figurative representation of Wisdom as the mother of the three theological virtues, Faith, Hope and Love.

The name Sophia (Σοφία) means ‘wisdom’ in Greek. The Greek lettering over the other three figures in these icons names them as Pistis, Elpis, and Agape, or Πίστις (Faith), Ελπίδα (Hope) and Αγάπη (Love). In Latin their names would be Fides, Spes and Caritas.

I had always read these figures and their names in these icons and frescoes as allegorical or figurative – until I was back in Piskopianó last year. There I heard of the tradition that these four were saints from Italy – a mother and her three daughters, who were martyrs for the Christian faith around the year 126 CE, during the reign of the Emperor Hadrian.

According to this tradition, Saint Sophia of Rome was the mother of Faith (12), Hope (10) and Love (9). An official named Antiochus denounced them to the Emperor Hadrian (117-138), who ordered them to be brought to Rome. Realising that they would be taken before the emperor, the mother and daughters prayed for the strength not to fear torture and death.

When they were brought before the emperor, all present were amazed at their composure. Summoning each sister in turn, Hadrian demanded they offer sacrifices to the goddess Artemis. The girls remained unyielding, and the emperor ordered them to be tortured. They were burned over iron gratings, physically mutilated, sexually assaulted, and thrown into red-hot ovens and cauldrons of boiling tar, and yet they survived. The youngest child, Love, was tied to a wheel and beaten with rods until her body was covered with bloody welts.

Saint Sophia was forced to watch their suffering, but remained courageous and urged her daughters to endure their suffering. All three girls were then beheaded by the sword.

The emperor allowed Sophia to take away the bodies of her daughters. She placed them in coffins, loaded them onto a wagon, drove beyond the city limits, and buried the girls on a high hill. Saint Sophia sat by the graves of her daughters for three days, and finally died. Other Christians buried her beside her daughters, and all four were soon venerated as martyrs.

Pistis, Elpis, and Agape, or Πίστις (Faith), Ελπίδα (Hope) and Αγάπη (Love), are known in Latin as Fides, Spes and Caritas (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

However, there are conflicting traditions about Saint Sophia and her daughters, and whether Saint Sophia of Rome is to be identified with Saint Sopia of Milan. Another tradition says Saint Sophia was a martyr during the Diocletian Persecution (303-304). This conflicts with widespread tradition in Greek, Armenian and Georgian sources that place Sophia and her daughters in the reign of Hadrian and that say she died not as a martyr but mourning her martyred daughters.

The veneration of Saint Sophia of Milan became indistinguishable from that of Saint Sophia of Rome. References from the time of Gregory the Great suggest there were two groups of martyrs, mother and daughters, one buried on the Aurelian Way and the other on the Via Appia. Their tomb in a crypt beneath the church afterwards erected to Saint Pancratius was visited by pilgrims from the seventh century on.

The relics were moved to the women’s convent at Eschau in Alsace in 778, and from there the cult spread to Germany. There is a 14th-century fresco of the saints in a chapel in Cologne Cathedral, and Saint Sophia is depicted on a column in Saint Stephen’s Cathedral, Vienna, dating from the 15th century. Her feast day of 15 May was observed in German, Belgian and English breviaries in the 16th century.

Although earlier editions of the Roman Martyrology commemorated Faith, Hope and Love on 1 August and their mother Sophia on 30 September, the present catalogue of saints in the Roman Catholic Church has no feast dedicated to these three girls or their mother. The only Saint Sophia included today is an early Christian virgin martyr of Picenum in Italy, commemorated with her companion Vissia on 12 April.

An early Christian martyr, Saint Faith (Fides) of Aquitania in southern Franc, is celebrated on 6 October; a Saint Hope (Spes), an abbess of Nursia who died ca 517, is commemorated on 23 May; and Saint Charity (Caritas) is included among saints with similar names on 16 April and 7 September. Their feast day of 1 August was not entered in the General Roman Calendar, and they have since been removed from the Roman Martyrology.

Perhaps the veneration of the three saints named after the three theological virtues arose in the sixth century, based on common inscriptions found in the catacombs. Critical scholarship now agrees that the tradition is invented, part of a tradition inspired and developed through pious readings of Latin inscriptions referring to women who were named after Holy Wisdom and after the theological virtues of Faith, Hope and Love.

But all four – Wisdom, Faith, Hope and Love – remain a pillar of the Church, at least in Piskopianó.

And in this broken, bruised and much assaulted world these days, we are so in need of those four virtues of Wisdom, Faith, Hope and Love.

Wisdom, Faith, Hope and Love remain a pillar of the Church in Piskopianó in Crete (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Daily prayer in Ordinary Time 2025:
128, Wednesday 17 September 2025

‘We played the flute for you, and you did not dance; we wailed, and you did not mourn’ (Luke 7: 32) … ‘Τα κάλαντα’ (‘Carols’), Νικηφόρος Λύτρας (Nikiphoros Lytras)

Patrick Comerford

We are continuing in Ordinary Time in the Church Calendar and this week began with the Thirteenth Sunday after Trinity (Trinity XIII, 14 September 2025), which was also Holy Cross Day.

The calendar of the Church of England in Common Worship today (17 September) remembers Saint Hidegard (1179), Abbess of Bingen and visionary. The calendar of the Greek Orthodox Church today commemorates Saint Sophia, whose name (Σοφία) means ‘wisdom’ in Greek, and her three daughters, Pistis, Elpis and Agape, or Πίστις (Faith), Ελπίδα (Hope) and Αγάπη (Love), martyrs in the second century.

Before today begins, I am taking some quiet time this morning to give thanks, for reflection, prayer and reading in these ways:

1, today’s Gospel reading;

2, a reflection on the Gospel reading;

3, a prayer from the USPG prayer diary;

4, the Collects and Post-Communion prayer of the day.

‘We played the flute for you, and you did not dance; we wailed, and you did not mourn’ (Luke 7: 31-32) … traditional Greek folk music celebrated at a restaurant in the old town in Rethymnon (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2025)

Luke 7: 31-35 (NRSVA)

[Jesus said:] 31 ‘To what then will I compare the people of this generation, and what are they like? 32 They are like children sitting in the market-place and calling to one another,

“We played the flute for you, and you did not dance;
we wailed, and you did not weep.”

33 ‘For John the Baptist has come eating no bread and drinking no wine, and you say, “He has a demon”; 34 the Son of Man has come eating and drinking, and you say, “Look, a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax-collectors and sinners!” 35 Nevertheless, wisdom is vindicated by all her children.’

Imagine going to a wedding but not getting onto the floor and dancing (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Today’s Reflection:

When we were looking at the Gospel reading yesterday, which told the story of the widow of Nain grieving her son at his funeral, I said how funeral stories and the stories of children being raised to life are not always the most cheerful Bible readings, and I recalled how that reading was particularly difficult when I was preaching one Sunday morning when I was baptising a little baby boy.

In today’s Gospel reading, Jesus compares ‘the people of this generation’ with children sitting in the market-place calling to one another, ‘We played the flute for you, and you did not dance; we wailed, and you did not weep’ (Luke 7: 31-32).

I have often stayed up late at weddings, at the receptions after funerals, and enjoying late night sporting events, especially rugby and football. Each time, in ways that were appropriate to each occasion, I have entered into the spirit of the event, and where possible, moved from being a mere spectator to being a full participant.

When we go to weddings and funerals … and as a priest I got my fair share of both … when we go to weddings and funerals, the attitude we go with makes a world of difference: do I go as a spectator or do I go as a participant?

Imagine going to a funeral and failing to offer sympathy to those who are grieving and mourning.

Shortly after my ordination, I was asked to officiate at my first wedding. Initially, I declined the invitation to go to the reception afterwards, until someone chided me gently and asked me: are you at this wedding as a spectator or as a participant?

Perhaps, as a new curate, I was too worried about sending out the wrong signals. If I stood back, would I be reproached for not eating and drinking with the people I was there to serve (see Luke 7: 33)? If I went, would I be seen as being too interested in eating and drinking (verse 34)?

But it was never about me, surely; it was only ever about the couple getting married.

A student in the Church of Ireland Theological Institute was telling me once about her parish placement as an ordinand. Initially, she was uncomfortable with the style of worship and the theological emphasis of the parish she was placed in. But the parish reacted to her warmly and gently. And as the weeks rolled on she realised she had moved from being an observer on Sunday mornings, to being an engaged visitor, to being a participant.

When we join in waves and chants at a football match, join in the dance at weddings, sing the hymns and enter into the prayers at another church, cry and hug those who are grieving and mourning at a funeral, we move from being observers and spectators to being participants. And the great opportunity for this transformation is provided Sunday after Sunday, not at the Liturgy but in the Liturgy.

If you have been to the Middle East, or have just seen Fiddler on the Roof, you know that dancing at Jewish weddings was traditionally a male celebration. I have seen at funerals in Greece and the Eastern Mediterranean that the open mourning and weeping is usually expressed on behalf of the community by women in particular.

Indeed, we know since classical times how a man’s worth in life was once counted by the number of women crying at his funeral.

These traditions were passed on through the generations by children watching learning from adults and by children in turn teaching one other.

In today’s Gospel reading (Luke 7: 31-35), we see how Christ has noticed this in the streets and the back alleys as he moves through the towns and cities, probably in Galilee and along the Mediterranean shore.

He sees the children playing, the boys playing wedding dances, and the girls playing funeral wailing and mourning.

He notices the ways in which children can reproach each other for not joining in their playfulness:

We played the flute for you, and you did not dance;
we wailed, and you did not mourn.
(verse 32)

Even as he speaks there is playfulness in the way Jesus phrases his observation poetically. There is humour in the way he uses Greek words that rhyme for dance and mourn at the end of each line of the children’s taunts:

Ηὐλήσαμεν ὑμῖν
καὶ οὐκ ὠρχήσασθε·
ἐθρηνήσαμεν
καὶ οὐκ ἐκλαύσατε.


Perhaps he was repeating an everyday rebuke in Greek at the time for people who stand back from what others are doing. We might put poetic rhyme on his lips here:

A wedding song we played for you,
The dance you did but scorn.
A woeful dirge we chanted too,
But then you would not mourn.


The boys playing tin whistles and beating tin drums are learning to become adult men. The girls wailing and beating their breasts in mock weeping are learning to become adult women. Each group is growing into the roles and rituals that will be expected of them when they mature.

Like all good children’s games, the point is the game, not who wins.

The games we played as children may now seem silly and pointless. But when we were children they mattered as a communal and community experience. The fun was not because there was anything to win. The fun was in taking part. And in taking part we were helped in the process of growing and maturing and making the transition from childhood to adolescence, and from adolescence to adulthood.

To and fro, back and forth, these boys and girls in the market place play the games of weddings and funerals.

The music they play shifts and changes its tones and tunes. This endless, pointless, repetition is their inherited way of learning and socialising. Their playfulness ensures their tradition and culture is reinforced and is handed on to the next generation.

But if the boys make music and the girls do not dance, if the girls wail, and the boys do not weep, how can they have a shared story, a shared adulthood, a shared culture, a shared future, a shared humanity?

When we refuse to take part in the game, in the ritual, we refuse to take part in the shaping of society, we are denying our shared culture. When I try exclude others from the taking part in the game, in the ritual, I am refusing them their role rightful in shaping society.

When reciprocity collapses, we are denying our shared humanity.

We can become paralysed by our inability to enter into the game of others. And then the game turns from song and dance to what we might call ‘the blame game.’

It is so easy when I withdraw from the social activities of others to blame them.

Yes, there is a time for dancing and a time for mourning: each has its proper place, and they flow into each other, like the children’s game when it is working. But when vanity gets in the way, there is a breakdown in our understanding of time and of humanity.

If I stand back detached, and remain a mere observer of the joys and sorrows in the lives of others, I am not sharing in their humanity.

And in not sharing in your humanity, I am failing to acknowledge that you too are made in the image and likeness of God.

But when we rejoice with people in their joys, and when we mourn with people in their sorrows, we are putting into practice what the doctrine of the Trinity teaches us about us being not only made in the image and likeness of God individually but communally and collectively too as humanity.

The ‘Bottle Dance’ at the wedding in ‘Fiddler on the Roof’

Today’s Prayers (Wednesday 17 September 2025):

The theme this week (14 to 20 September) in Pray with the World Church, the prayer diary of the Anglican mission agency USPG (United Society Partners in the Gospel), is ‘Standing in Solidarity with the Church in Myanmar’ (pp 38-39). This theme was introduced on Sunday with a programme update from Rachael Anderson, former Senior Communications and Engagement Manager, USPG.

The USPG Prayer Diary today (Wednesday 17 September 2025) invites us to pray:

Lord, thank you for the Church of the Province of Myanmar's mission to provide education and safe shelter for children. May the efforts of teachers and staff continue to bring hope and opportunity.

The Collect:

Most glorious and holy God,
whose servant Hildegard, strong in the faith,
was caught up in the vision of your heavenly courts:
by the breath of your Spirit
open our eyes to glimpse your glory
and our lips to sing your praises with all the angels;
through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord, who is alive and reigns with you,
in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and for ever.

The Post Communion Prayer:

Merciful God,
who gave such grace to your servant Hildegard
that she served you with singleness of heart
and loved you above all things:
help us, whose communion with you
has been renewed in this sacrament,
to forsake all that holds us back from following Christ
and to grow into his likeness from glory to glory;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Yesterday’s reflection

Continued tomorrow

‘We played the flute for you, and you did not dance; we wailed, and you did not mourn’ (Luke 7: 31-32) … music at the Hiroshima Day commemorations at the Peace Pagoda in Milton Keynes (Patrick Comerford)

Scripture quotations are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible: Anglicised Edition copyright © 1989, 1995 National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide. http://nrsvbibles.org