Sophie Farran Mavromatis has been a familiar face in our congregation for many years.

This is her story:

For as long as can be recalled, to the time of generations lost in the desert sand, the Farran family made their home in Jerusalem. In recent years, however, the family has become a minority among minorities- Arab Christians in the midst of Palestinian Muslims in the heart of a Jewish state.

Sophie’s family were always devoutly Orthodox. From their roots, they knew no calendar other than the traditional "Old" one. Sophie’s great-uncle, her grandfather’s brother, had served in the Ecclesiastical Court of the Patriarchate of Jerusalem. He and his wife were childless and devoted themselves to the Church. When they died they gave all of their possessions and wealth to a local Old Calendar Greek Convent.

Sophie was the oldest child born to the union of her parents. The next-to-oldest was her brother Tommy. Their first language was Arabic and their second, at the insistence of the mother, English.

Sadly, when the children were very young, Sophie being only five years of age, the mother died. "Yet, God did not abandon us" reflects Sophie philosophically. "God sent us a very nice Christian step-mother" whom the whole family grew to love. In time children were born to this new union, Sophie’s brothers "Gaabi" and "Ramzi" and her sister "Nuha".

"At one time a family was living on top of a hill" explains Sophie regarding the history of the Church of Saint George – the local Church that she and her family attended during her childhood.

The people who were living on the top of the hill began to notice an unusual reoccurring event. Many times in the night a stranger in odd dress would pass their home. The stranger was always riding a fine horse. Sensing something out of the ordinary, the family, particularly the grandmother, made the Sign of the Cross as the rider passed.

Then, one night as she slept, the grandmother saw the stranger. He identified himself as Saint George. He commanded, "Dig under the house and see what you will find! " When she awoke she told her family urging them to "bring someone and dig! " They complied.

"It’s such a shame. The Jews put a big building on top of it" Laments Sophie. When asked about property rights and how this could have happened, Sophie protests "Are you kidding! Arabs have no rights. Whatever the Jewish Authorities make up their mind to do, they do".

In 1948 the Arab-Israeli war divided Jerusalem and forever changed life for the Farran family. Sophie, who was then 18, recalls the events of that traumatic year vividly. "Every evening there was bombing, bombing" she explains. "The Jews, the Arabs and the British Army were always bombing. It was very unsafe." To worsen matters, the freedom of Arabs to go from one section of Jerusalem to another was restricted. "They put us in Zones. Our Aunt was in one Zone and we were in another. We could never see each other." Fearing for the lives of his family, Sophie’s father ultimately made a desperate decision. He decided to abandon the family’s ancestral home, leaving behind most of their possessions.

In the middle of a May night he directed everyone to leave the house and go to the cars, bringing with them only what they could carry. He took two of his vehicles, one, which he himself drove, and one, driven by one of his drivers. Those who took flight included Sophie, her grandmother, her father and stepmother, her 3 younger siblings, her father’s younger brother, his wife and their baby. Together they fled into the mountains of Lebanon, near Beruit. They went to a summer resort where in less troubled times they had vacationed. This, however, was no vacation. Their small house was not meant for so many people and there was much uncertainty and fear.

Two months passed when again they were forced to flee. Lebanese police, taking notice of the Palestinian license plates on the Farran vehicles, threatened to impound them. Although sympathetic to their plight, they feared reprisal from Jewish authorities.

Now the family drove southeast to Damascus, Syria. Here they remained for five difficult months. Sophie’s father supported them from his savings. Friends urged him to register his family with the United Nations as refugees. He refused. He wanted to be free and longed to return home.

The family took refuge in an empty warehouse. There was no furniture or beds. Sophie’s father removed the seats from their vehicles for some of the family to sleep on. The grandmother slept on the suitcases. Everyone else slept on the cement floor. As time wore on Sophie herself negotiated with some Bedouin women to purchase thin mattresses made of rags. To this day she has kept those "mattresses" as a reminder of what they endured.

As abruptly as their odyssey began, it ended. Without explanation the Authorities granted the family’s request to settle in Jericho. While never replacing Jerusalem in their hearts, Jericho has become the family’s permanent home. This is where Sophie’s grandmother and parents spent the rest of their lives and where Sophie’s youngest sister Nuha and many cousins yet live. And. this is where the Bedouin "mattresses" are stored.

Some years had passed when Sophie had the opportunity to return to Jerusalem to spend all of Holy Week. At the time her best friend was the daughter of the Prime Minister of Jordan. Her friend wanted to spend Holy Week in Jerusalem, Sophie having told her of its beauty and of the mystery of the Holy Fire. Her friend went to her father, who obtained the necessary permits not only for his daughter and her cousin but also for Sophie and her younger sister, who was then 10 years old. He also arranged, as was necessary, for a police officer to accompany them.

On the eve of Pascha they were not only at the Holy Sepulcher, but also, by virtue of their "status", stood in the very front beside the door to the Sepulcher, itself. They waited expectantly with the silent masses, as the light of day faded and the huge Church was submersed in total darkness.

Then the Mennonites joined with the United Nations in opening a Clinic for pregnant women and her duties expanded. She taught the pregnant women hygiene and literacy. She also taught them how to sew. Each woman was given materials with which to make a large layette. They were allowed to keep the layette which they had made, and additionally, when they delivered, were given a second large layette as a gift.

The special attention given to the needs of pregnant women came about because of the high incidence of infant mortality in the Refugee Camps. As well, diseases such as Cholera were a grave threat. While at the Clinic each woman was tested for communicable diseases and entire families were sometimes quarantined.

Her exposure to the unsanitary conditions in the Camps, was a particular worry to Sophie’s family. "When I returned home from work, my mother would not allow me to enter the front of the house" Sophie explains. "I had to go to the rear where I removed my clothing and showered. Only then could I go inside the house."

Nonetheless her family was grateful for her work. Indeed for years she was the only member of her family who was employed. Her income became their sole source of support.

Sophie’s responsibilities in working with refugees continued to grow. On the side, to supplement her income, she opened a needlework business employing many of the women from the Camps. Eventually, with her consent, the Mennonites took over and expanded the business while leaving her in charge.

By 1976, when she resigned, she had over 3000 Arab women working for her. Weekly she traveled between Jericho and the Sinai border. She went to 15 or 16 different frontier villages where she would inspect work, which was being done, and collect finished pieces. The finished pieces would be taken back to Jericho where Sophie herself would make any final repairs. She would then give them to other women, who were also in her employ, who would carefully wash, iron and prepare the items for delivery.

"For thirty years I worked, and was paid well, but I never opened my paychecks" Sophie explains. " I always took my checks home and gave them to my father." With this money he supported the family.

Additionally Sophie arranged for her two youngest brothers, Gabi and Ramzi to obtain the best education possible: Gabi ultimately obtained a Masters Degree in Laboratory Science, by extension, from a University in London. He now lives, with his family, in Illinois. Ramzi, meanwhile, with the assistance of the Mennonites, also came to the United States. Here he ultimately obtained two Masters Degrees. He now lives with his wife, who has a PHD. and their children in Illinois. He teaches Chemistry and Mathematics in colleges in the Chicago area. He is an outstanding teacher, having twice received the "Golden Apple" Federal Teacher’s Award.

Sophie, herself, had dreamed from childhood of living in the United States. Twice, in connection with her work with the Mennonites, she had visited the States. Finally, upon resigning from her employment, she was free to pursue her dream.

With the encouragement of her family she moved to Southern California where the climate was like that her home, and she had extended family. Upon coming to Los Angeles she visited an Arabic language Church but did not feel at home. In time she met Marika Mavromatis and, through her, her sister, Helen Nielsen. They developed a close friendship. Marika and Helen invited Sophie to visit their Church, St. Andrew’s in Glendora. Entering the Church she immediately felt that she was home. The certainty of this conclusion was later confirmed when the Parish was visited by its local Bishop. To her surprise it was the same Bishop whom she had known from her childhood in Jerusalem: Antony, formerly an Archimandrite in Jerusalem but now Archbishop of Los Angeles and the Western United States. He even remembered her!

After several years Helen and Marika happened to introduce Sophie to their brother, Angelo Mavromatis. A romance blossomed. In 1985 they married at St. Andrews. "I never dreamed that love would come to me in my old age, and that I would be married" Sophie reflects.

One of the most touching condolences came from friends of Fadwa’s son, Ramzi. They had become acquainted with Fadwa while visiting The Holy Land. Sometime after the trip their son became terminally ill. With his death expected to occur at any moment, through Ramzi, they contacted Fadwa and asked her to pray for him.

As part of their condolence, the father of the boy wrote a tribute to Fadwa in which he said, in part, that there are four ‘L’ terms that come to mind when one thinks of Fadwa - life, love, legacy and light: