The Parthenon without the marbles is like a smile with a tooth

Hear the words of Neil Kinnock, who spoke with the force of justice and memory: *“The Parthenon without the marbles is like a smile with a *tooth missing.” In this saying, he does not speak only of stone, nor only of art, but of the wholeness of a people, the dignity of their heritage, and the sacredness of unity. For just as a smile loses its harmony when one tooth is torn away, so does the great temple of Athens lose its soul when its marbles lie scattered in foreign halls. The saying is a lament and a call—a lament for what was taken, and a call for restoration.

The Parthenon, crown of the Acropolis, was raised by the Athenians in the age of Pericles, when the city shone as a beacon of learning, art, and freedom. Its stones were not mere blocks of marble, but the very embodiment of a people’s vision of beauty and order. Upon its walls and friezes were carved scenes of gods and mortals, of battles and sacrifices, telling stories that bound Athens to eternity. To strip these marbles from their home was to wound the body of Greece, leaving it incomplete, like a face marred in its smile.

Kinnock’s words carry the weight of history, for they recall the long struggle of the Greeks to see their treasures returned. In the early 19th century, Lord Elgin carried away many of these carvings, placing them in the British Museum. To some, this was preservation; to others, it was theft. And to the Greek people, it was like a mother robbed of her children. The smile of the Parthenon, once radiant, became broken, and generations have lifted their voices to call for its wholeness once more.

The ancients themselves would have understood this grief. Did not the Israelites weep by the rivers of Babylon, remembering Zion, their holy city, when its temple lay in ruins? Did not the Romans mourn when their own relics of glory were carried away by conquerors? For when sacred art is displaced, when the symbols of identity are scattered, the people themselves feel the wound. And just as a smile with a missing tooth speaks of loss, so too do broken monuments cry of the unfinished and the incomplete.

Yet this quote is not only about Greece, nor only about stone. It is about the longing of the human soul for wholeness. For in each life there are missing marbles—moments of joy taken by sorrow, pieces of love broken by time. And yet, the lesson is this: though the smile may be incomplete, it still shines. And though the Parthenon waits for its marbles, it still stands, proud upon its hill, reminding the world of what once was and of what ought to be restored.

Therefore, let us learn: to honor the past, to preserve what is sacred, to restore what has been broken. Let each man and woman guard the treasures of their people—their stories, their traditions, their songs—as faithfully as one guards the teeth of a smile. For the loss of heritage is the dimming of the spirit, and its restoration is the rekindling of light.

So let your action be this: seek to mend what is fractured, in your life and in the life of your community. Speak for justice when something precious is taken. Work for the restoration of beauty, whether it is in stone or in the soul. And never forget that just as a single tooth completes a smile, so does each fragment of truth, each shard of history, each act of kindness, complete the eternal temple of humanity.