The Catalog of Good Deeds: Iconography and Icons

Showing posts with label Iconography and Icons. Show all posts

This icon of the Most Holy Theotokos is located in Zograf Monastery on Mount Athos. The name of the icon is explained by the following miracle.

When Saint Cosmas of Athos was still young and lived in Zograf Monastery, he visited Vatopedi Monastery on the Annunciation Day. He spotted a beautiful and majestic Woman in the church during the service and in the refectory during a meal. Saint Cosmas was embarrassed and unable to explain how She appeared on Mount Athos where no female had ever stepped and why monks of that monastery allowed Her presence. Carried away by these thoughts, he returned to Zograf and went to his elder. The elder saw that his disciple was baffled and asked him:

“Why are you so sad and wistful?”

Cosmas told him what he had seen in Vatopedi Monastery and honestly shared with the elder all his doubts and thoughts about the Woman that he had seen among the monks of that monastery.

“What did that Woman look like? What did She wear?” the elder asked again.

Cosmas described Her appearance in detail. The elder sighed and told his disciple:

“You failed to recognize the Female that appeared to you in the monastery, didn’t you? Now, listen: she wasn’t a mere mortal woman. She was the Queen of our Holy Mountain and all creation.”

Soon afterwards, Saint Cosmas was alone in the church. He started praying fervently to the Mother of God and exclaimed:

“O Most Holy Theotokos, please pray to your Son and God so that He would lead me to the route of salvation!”

Hardly did he utter these words that he heard the voice of the Theotokos:

“O my Son and my God! Teach Thy servant how to be saved!”

Then Cosmas heard an immediate response to Her prayer:

“He must leave the monastery and live in solitude.”

Cosmas followed that revelation. Having received his abbot’s blessing, he went to a neighboring desert, dug a cave, and spent the rest of his life in that cave carrying out his monastic duties. He was rewarded by the Lord with the gift of miracles.

The icon in front of which Saint Cosmas prayed and from which he heard the voice, is called “She who is quick to hear.” It is located in a niche in the east wall of the sanctuary of the cathedral church of Zograf Monastery.

Translated by The Catalog of Good Deeds

The Reverend Sergius Nezhbort, who is a priest of our Convent and the head of our Icon Painting Studio, is our guest today. We are going to talk with him how he became an icon painter; how the studio grew and developed; where its current painters learned and where they teach now; how creativity and the canon in icon painting work together; and a whole lot more.

How did you become an icon painter?

It’s hard to say how I became an icon painter; I’m not sure I ever became one. First of all, I had a dream. It just happened that when I came to the Church, the Lord revealed himself to me through the icon. This event changed everything: I started going to church and got baptised. The icon became my window into the Kingdom of Heaven. I simply wanted to believe that there would be a day when I would paint icons. At that time, I went to an arts school and learned to paint. I entertained that dream for a long time but after a while I realised that it was not going to happen: I didn’t have anyone who could teach me to paint icons and any chance to acquire this skill. I had to forget about my dream for some time. Five years later, that dream came true. I got involved in painting icons. I’ve been doing my best to keep up with it since that time. However, I don’t dare call myself an icon painter.

Can you tell us about the history of the Icon Painting Studio?

It was in the spring of 1999 that Larissa Nezhbort, Nun Lyudmila Leiko, and I founded the Icon Painting Studio with the blessing of Father Andrew Lemeshonok. Each of us had his or her own route to the icon painting. It was an audacious move because, in spite of our motivation, we lacked icon painting skills and everything else, too. We started from scratch. Little by little, new people were joining, and the Studio began to grow. A lot has changed since then. We didn’t know even the most basic things, such as how to cover an icon with gold leaf or how to grind the paints. The surface of our first icons was like sandpaper because we didn’t grind the paints properly. Today everything has changed, of course. We didn’t have study guides and did not have the opportunity to look at good samples that we have now. We only had several books, albums from home bookshelves, and it wasn’t enough, to be honest. I took a look at our old photos not long ago, and I was somewhat ashamed. Perhaps, it was merely a stage in our development, and we had to go through that stage. Now we are on a different level. When new people join, eager to learn how to paint icons, they can get the answers to their questions, which we have tested on ourselves. They can learn how to draw a sketch, how to cover the surface with gold leaf, and how to use a sample. It will take our students only one month to start using the methods that we had to experiment with for years.

Who did you learn from?

Archpriest Igor Latushko gave us the first props. We all knew him and asked him about the substantial, the inner workings of an icon, rather than just professional advice. For example, he could clearly explain why this or that saint was portrayed in a certain way and what the meaning and symbolise of an icon of a certain feast was. It was necessary for us at that point because we were professional artists but not icon painters. For me personally, it was crucial to be helping Andrey Kozikov, a famous icon painter. As an apprentice in his studio, I saw the work of an icon painter from within and saw how hard it was. I couldn’t do a whole lot of things, but I could gesso icon boards, wash the floor or the palette… I was very happy to contribute to this process. Now, when I paint icons on my own, I realise that it would be much harder without that experience. These were the two people who really helped me in the beginning. We didn’t have specific teachers. Most likely, we learned from one another by reading books, exploring iconographic samples, and praying. We visited Archimandrite Zinon (Teodor) several times but I cannot claim that he was our teacher. He was always welcoming, which was important for us at that time. Well, you can learn a lot even if you simply look at his icons and see him working.

How do you paint an icon?

Figuratively speaking, an icon has the body, the soul, and the spirit, just like a human being. It is always difficult to speak about the spiritual aspect and it is much easier to speak about icon painting as a craft. An icon is painted in a traditional fashion. We resolved from the outset that we would paint icons using only traditional methods, as opposed to new technologies, modern paints and primers. We use the methods known since ancient times. We paint on a dried lime or pine board with the carved-out centre. The board is gessoed, i.e. coated with several layers of primer, which consists of chalk and glue, until it has a smooth and polished surface. Our paints are made of minerals and even semi-precious stones, e.g., lazurite, malachite, etc. We paint icons based on earlier samples. An icon painter looks at the sample and outlines the contours. The background or the halo are then covered with gold leaf, and the icon painter proceeds to paint the vestments and buildings, followed by hands and faces. Lastly, the icon is finished with linseed oil. These are the main stages but everyone follows them in a different way. As a rule, one’s soul and inner life inadvertently reverberates in his or her painting. An icon is some kind of a spiritual barometer that shows the inner state of the icon painter. If an artist expresses himself in his work and enjoys seeing his skill reflected in his picture, you will look at the icon like in a mirror and see your untruth. It exposes you and makes you really sad. The difficulty of an icon painter’s ministry is that, although you can clearly see that you’re unprepared, you’ve got to keep on painting. The Lord helps through the icon. When the person faces his own untruth, he is inclined to seek God in order to be transformed and live according to God’s truth.

How should we treat printed icons?

An icon is an icon regardless of how it is made: using paints or a printing press. If an icon is made according to the rules and consecrated, it is sacred. Printed icons may not always be to your personal liking but tastes differ, you know. Praise God that everyone can have an icon in his or her home today because if there were only painted icons, not everyone could afford them because they are quite expensive. On the other hand, there is a negative side to it because people in ancient times used to treat every image like a treasure, given that not everyone can paint an icon, and if something is hard to make, then it is perceived as more valuable. Nowadays, there are plenty of printed icons, thousands of copies, and people unfortunately tend to lose the feeling of awe that they used to have when they saw a painted icon.

What are the traditions that have influenced your painting style?

It’s hard to say. At first, we were inspired by Ancient Russian icons, such as the paintings of Andrei Rublev and Dionysius. Currently, there are plenty of resources for icon painters: books and papers on Byzantine icons and samples of 6th-century iconography are available and easily accessible. It is this diversity that shapes one’s iconographic style. That is why we don’t have any mainstream trend. Nevertheless, there are icon painters whose works set the standard, so to say, and other icon painters in our Studio try to follow it. We are grounded in contemporary iconography, too: for instance, the works by the icon painters of Holy Trinity St Sergius Lavra. We follow the general directions of contemporary iconographic art.

Please tell us a couple of words about creativity in icon painting.

It’s a philosophical conundrum. How do you define creativity and canon? Every person has his own definition. The Greek word “canon” literally means a straight stick, that is, it shows whether a line is straight or not. The canon is not a set of rules: it is the language of the Church. You can perceive the canon as a rigid scheme but you can also interpret unrestrained creativity as sickly. The Lord breathed creativity into every human being. People are made in the image of God the Creator. An icon is where God meets us humans. There is a human being and there is God; an icon painter witnesses this encounter and paints an icon. This is how a true icon appears, e.g., the Holy Trinity by Andrei Rublev. It is evident that the icon of Holy Trinity is not a human fantasy, it’s the highest level of creativity. It becomes part of the canon. The canon does not emerge out of abstract and far-fetched theorizing. It appears at the crossroads where God and human meet, and people who witness this encounter suddenly realise that this is something that they can and should imitate. That is how the canon is shaped. You cannot treat the canon as an unchangeable touchstone. Today, we have to paint icons of newly-canonised saints. There aren’t any icons of these holy men and women; but we have their photos, so we icon painters have to deal with them in a creative way. After all, the Church is alive, and life cannot be static.

Tell us about your students, please.

There are people who are willing to engage with the icon. Some leave and some stay, it’s like everywhere else in life. How does a tree grow? Some branches shoot out leaves, and some wither away. That’s what it’s like in our studio, too. There are people who attempt to serve God by painting icons, and we try to share our experiences. We don’t think that we can rightfully call ourselves ‘teachers’ and them, ‘students’. We simply try to share something that we have learned.

Is there any difference between an icon painter and an artist?

It depends on the artist and the icon painter. If you compare Pablo Picasso and Andrei Rublev, they are different, although each of them has certain characteristics that cannot be compared. Not every artist must be an icon painter because an icon painter is primarily a person who serves God. Icon painting is an obedience in the Church. There are various obediences in the Church: some people sing in the choir, some read the Gospel, and some wipe the floor. All obediences are important, and you can’t say that one is better and the other is worse. Every obedience is indispensable and necessary. As far as the comparison between an artist and an icon painter is concerned, an icon painter is necessary because people need new icons for new churches; whereas an artist is also necessary because people are looking for beauty, and it doesn’t always need to be limited to the church. I suppose, every artist feels God even in the outside world: in nature, in other people, and in relationships. So I believe that there is no conflict between an icon painter and an artist. They simply have different tasks. An icon painter’s task is more specific. Generally, I believe that everyone is an artist in a certain sense. You cannot isolate one from the other.

What are the icons that you paint most often?

The face of the Holy Saviour is the most frequently painted icon. It is the most important icon, and therefore, most people want to have it in their homes. Same with the icons of the Mother of God. Many people also want to have icons of their namesake saints painted.

Is icon painting a collaborative art?

Sure. Even if you look at it from the technical viewpoint: one person makes the wooden board, another person covers it with gesso, yet another person plates it with gold, and finally, yet another person paints the icon. Only if they work together and in unity can the icon see the light of day. Every icon painter must remember that everything he does is a reflection of the prayer of the whole Church. The more eagerly people seek for God, the easier it is for us to paint icons. If we turn to the history, the 15th century is the golden age of icon painting. It was the time of a spiritual revival but later, in the time of a spiritual crisis, it was more difficult for icon painters to work on the same level. Judging by the number of new icon painting studios established in the late 20th and the early 21st century, now is the time of a new spiritual revival.

Icon painters indicate the current state of humankind. It is important for people who come to church and look at the icons to understand that the icons were not created by a single individual. Icons are the result of many people’s prayer.

August 27, 2018

St. Elisabeth Convent

Explaining the icon of St. George slaying the dragon to a 4 year old is amazing. Explaining the icon of St. George to a 10 year old is excruciating — “Yeah, but dragons don’t exist, do they?”.

Do they?

When someone tells you that dragons don’t exist or that monsters don’t exist, what is it they are saying? When gazing at the icon of St. George, which intuitively has to be one of the most satisfying icons to gaze upon, it reveals a truth so profound that despite the fact that “dragons don’t exist”, it is still one of the most popular icons and St. George is one of the most popular saints.

When we say “dragons don’t exist”, usually what is meant by “exist” is some kind of measurable, reproducible phenomena. “Dragon” then becomes a zoological specie, like a dog or a cat that could be separated into sub-species, bred and genetically modified. But to believe that such measurable categories in the world are the only ones that “exist” is not only untrue to the highest degree, but it is also an image of the mental tyranny of our scientific age that anyone could be so blind to believe this as they live out their lives.

What if dragons or else monsters in general are simply not the same type of “thing” as dogs or cats or apples? What if the way a dragon exists has less to do with the difference between a tiger and a rabbit and more to do with the difference between a friend and a stranger? The difference between a friend and a stranger is not a measurable, reproducible phenomenon, yet it is one of the most real experiences a human being has. A friend is a real category of existence, but there is no “zoological” friend, that is I cannot point to someone that would quantify “friend” for all the world in the way a cat is a cat for everyone. Friend is a category of human engagement. And in a similar vein, encountering a stranger is encountering an undefined person, we could say the undecided in human form. I would like to suggest that a dragon and more generally a monster, is the category of the unknown itself in animal form. Ultimately a dragon is an image of chaos, the place where knowledge and categories reach their limits.

That a dragon is an image of chaos is not a new idea, it has been proposed by thinkers from extremely diverse areas, including Orthodox ones. But usually it is implied in saying things like “dragons are an image of chaos” that dragons are a kind of fable, a kind of metaphor. I am saying dragons exist, or rather almost exist. They are as real as a stranger is real, as an alien is real, real in ways that show us the very limits of existence itself. It is silly, for example, to say that UFOs do not exist. Of course UFOs exist, they are unidentified flying objects. Now the way we portray, imagine and project certain cultural forms and narratives into these UFOs is another matter, an important one which shows us how humans engage with the chaos and the unknown. Just like we can experience a UFO or a stranger, we can definitely come into contact with a dragon. And I think the story of St-George and many other traditional stories of dragons are built, are constructed in a manner that helps us understand “what” a dragon is. This is the reason the story of St. George perdures despite all the myth busters trying to take it down.

But we need to give the myth busters their due. So now, just as a thought experiment, imagine a terrible dragon threatening a city and eating its children. St-George comes and kills it. Imagine now a scientist arriving with all his instruments to dissect it. After several weeks of analysis and peer-reviewed data, the scientist informs the silly people of the town via some academic journal, that the dragon was not a dragon, but rather it was a giant siamese-twin crocodile(s) with elephantiasis and rabies. The paper is quite long, in fact it details how each deformity on the giant siamese-twin crocodile(s) with elephantiasis and rabies is related either to it being siamese, it having elephantiasis or rather having come with time from its own violent self-destructive behavior due to its rabies. Some scientists begin to argue over the cause of certain of the deformities and soon someone holds a conference and the organizers publish a book stating the different views on the matter.

The question is this: which is more real, the dragon or the giant siamese-twin crocodile(s) with elephantiasis and rabies? The giant siamese-twin crocodile(s) with elephantiasis and rabies does not properly account for the terrifying experience of monstrosity, and though the dragon has been dissected and tamed in a way, the experience, the narrative which impacted the very identity of that village is an encounter with a dragon. And also, it would be absurd to rewrite our zoological categories to make way for the exceptional category of the siamese-twin crocodile(s) with elephantiasis and rabies. Just stick with dragons.

In the icon of St. George, the dragon is shown as an impossible hybrid, combining mammals, lizards and birds. As I have explained elsewhere, hybridity is the chaos which appears on the limits, in the in-betweens of categories, the exceptions. It is the very experience of the monster. The strange and exceptional are very important things and are categories which include many spiritual mysteries. Strangers in the Bible and in our tradition can secretly either be angels or devils. In the story of Abraham, the three strangers which come to him are angels and an image of the Trinity, but in the traditions surrounding the Nativity, the unknown shepherd tempting St. Joseph is secretly a devil. This is the nature of the ambiguous, it can hide either extremes.

Sadly in a world of only taxonomic categories, there is no room for the peripheral, the exception and the strange. Everything must fit, or else. This has caused both the mad permissiveness and unilateral openness as well as the totalitarian identity of absolute exclusion which characterize the duality of modernity. Both extremes cause each other and so can only swing from one impossible extreme to the next, either attempting to account for and justify every exception or else tracing an absolute border between us and them. In such a world there is no other option, either everything must fit, or else Occam’s razor comes a slicing. But in a world with room for dragons, the natural hierarchy of being is allowed to both include the rule and leave an undefined space for the strange and exceptional, the monster even. There the dragon can almost exist.

As long as the dragon does not eat our children. And there are those of us now who intuit that the dragons have started to devour children.

Luckily we will always have St. George to protect us.

Source: https://www.orthodoxartsjournal.org/dragons-almost-exist/

September 3, 2013, marked the 110^th anniversary of an apparition of the Mother of God in St. Panteleimon Monastery on Mt. Athos. The celebration in honor of the Painted-by-Light image was established by the Synod of the Elders of that monastery on the 100^th anniversary of this miraculous event.

The Holy Synod of the Russian Orthodox Church decided (Decision No. 97, July 27, 2013) to include the commemoration of the apparition of the image of the Most Holy Theotokos Painted-by-Light, which happened in the Russian St. Panteleimon Monastery on Mt. Athos in 1903, in the menologion of the Russian Orthodox Church.

History of the Event

Monk Gabriel who was distributing alms to needy monks near the Great Monastery Gate of St. Panteleimon Monastery took a picture of this process. When he developed the photo, he was shocked to see an image of the Mother of God who had humbly received a blessed loaf of bread.

Monastery archives testify that the Russian monks organized weekly distribution of alms to the needy in the late 19^th and early 20^th century. Big and small ships from Odessa and Taganrog, where there were metochia of St. Panteleimon Monastery, dispatched foodstuffs and other basic supplies to Mt. Athos every week. The supplies were used by three thousand monks of the monastery and four thousand Russian-speaking brethren who stayed in numerous sketes, cells, and kalivas on the Holy Mountain.

A multitude of poor mendicant monks and pious pilgrims would gather at the Great Gate of the monastery every week. It is estimated that 600–800 people received loaves of bread from the monks. However, idle and unruly drunkards also started to frequent the weekly distribution of bread. A letter from the Koinotita declaring that the tradition was becoming “useless and even harmful” was received in the monastery on August 14, 1903. The governing body of the Holy Mountain demanded that the administrative board of St. Panteleimon Monastery stop the bread distribution and find a more appropriate and less tempting way to help the poor. The letter read, in particular, that, “The almsgiving required by the Gospel is God-pleasing only when it is performed in a reasonable manner, i.e., to the needy people worth giving alms to. By giving alms to the people who fake real need and don’t really deserve them—to those who count on it and live here for that reason—you inflict harm rather than do good.”

A week later, on August 21, 1903, the monks of the Russian monastery decided to observe their tradition and distribute the bread one last time before finally reading the letter aloud to the crowd. By that time, hundreds were standing in line to receive their usual loaves of bread. It was at that moment that Hieromonk Gabriel took a photo, which was later developed with an image of the Mother of God receiving her blessed loaf humbly together with others. Looking at the unusual photo, the monks recalled what they had been told by Monk Sebastian, who heard from the gatekeepers that “a hermit saw a woman during the distribution of bread.” Some ascetics, who had also seen the Blessed Virgin in the midst of poor monks and travelers, had also wanted to tell a gatekeeper about it but this time, no one saw the Theotokos.

The Theotokos has invariably supported those who dwell in her earthly domain. It was by the order of the Queen of Heaven that the monastery continued to cater to the needs of the poor brethren: the monastery provided meals to the poor after the monastery meals, and the cellarer gave them foodstuffs from the monastery storehouse.

Veneration History

When the monastery was being restored in the late 1980s, the miraculous photo was copied multiple times and distributed to pilgrims along with a brief description of the event. The new generation of Russians who had been traumatized by atheist propaganda regarded this photo as a confirmation of the reality of the spiritual world, according to many pilgrims.

The commemoration of the image painted by light was established by the Synod of the Elders of St. Panteleimon Monastery in 2003, with the blessing of the abbot Archimandrite Jeremiah on the 100^th anniversary of the apparition. The name “Painted by Light” was born during the creation of the worship rite of this feast (the word “photography” literally means “painting by light” in Greek). It was then that an icon of this apparition was painted for use during worship. The historical sequence of the event was restored on the basis of chronicles and existing oral accounts.

The text of the worship rite was approved by the Synodal Liturgical Commission.

A chapel with a water fountain was erected on the place of the apparition of the Mother of God in 2011. The water from that fountain has allegedly brought alleviation of physical and mental illnesses.

A church in honor of the Icon Painted-by-Light was founded and consecrated on the ground floor of the Holy Protection Dormitory in the same year.

Translated by The Catalog of Good Deeds

A friend sent me a photo of an icon he recently bought. It was an icon of St. Stephen, an early deacon in the Church. I recognized some of the attributes that marked him out as a deacon, but not all of them. What was that strange church he was holding? Only diaconal saints hold it, so what does it have to do with being a deacon?

Recognizing Deacons

Most of you have probably seen deacons serving in Orthodox Churches, and you’ve probably seen deacons in icons (a few of the most popular ones include: St. Stephen the Proto-Martyr, St. Olympia the Deaconess, St. Prochoros the Deacon, and St. Romanos the Melodist).

We automatically recognize various saints as deacons by the way they are dressed. They wear the sticharion: a tunic that covers the whole body, going down to the ankles. They wear the orarion: a thin strip of cloth that hangs over the deacon’s left shoulder and is usually draped over his forearm. They also wear the cuffs that go around their wrists.

Deacons are also very recognizable in icons because they usually carry the censer. Generally speaking, priests are called to pray at the services while deacons are called to perform the physical actions of the services, including the censing.

But, in many icons that depict deacons, there are usually a few items that most parish deacons have never used: such as a veil over their left arm and a small little church or box.

The Zion or Jerusalem

What are these items? Why do deacons carry them in icons and what do they mean? Well, I did some research and here’s what I found.

The small church (or sometimes, it’s a simple box) is called a Zion or Jerusalem. While some people have postulated that it is an incense box, a reliquary, or a tabernacle (to hold either prosphora or the Holy Gifts) it seems that none of these are correct.

Historically, deacons were tasked with caring for the physical needs of the community, especially the sick, the widowed, the poor, the orphaned, or the imprisoned.

We see from scripture that this task is assigned to deacons:

And the twelve summoned the body of the disciples and said, “It is not right that we should give up preaching the word of God to serve tables [the word for “serve” is related to the word “deacon” in Greek]. Therefore, brethren, pick out from among you seven men of good repute, full of the Spirit and of wisdom, whom we may appoint to this duty. But we will devote ourselves to prayer and to the ministry of the word.” (Acts 6:2-4 RSV)

It seems the Zion was a part of this ministry; it was originally a collection box. The deacon would collect alms so that they could fulfill their ministry of helping others.

The veil, which looks a bit like the aer that covers the gifts on the altar, or a small phelonian, is probably there to prevent the deacon from directly touching the Zion.

In ancient times, holy items weren’t handled directly. Instead, clergy would use their vestments to hold such things. This is why, in some icons, bishops don’t hold the gospel books directly. Think of it as an ancient form of gloves.

Zions were probably used mostly in cathedral churches, which were located in larger cities that had many more people in need. Over time, however, it seems that Zions fell out of use.

But, in some very traditional settings, such as on Mt. Athos and in Moscow, you can still see them used.

Reviving the Zion

No, I’m not calling for a revival of the Zion as a parish liturgical item, but I am calling for us to revive, or live out, the ministry that the Zion represents.

We saw how the various attributes in an icon are like a written language, telling us about the person and/or their role in the Church. The censer tells us about the deacon’s liturgical role.

The Zion, on the other hand, tells us about the deacon’s ministry of compassion, a participation in the justice and mercy of God in the here and now. Though it was the deacon, as an image of Christ, who formally looked after the less fortunate in society, we are all called to imitate our Lord and participate in this ministry.

Source: http://www.dustinlyon.org/?p=1160

I really like this icon. As is to be expected, all the apostles are mourning her passing. And why not? Scripture lists her as among the people present during the first Baptism of the Holy Spirit after Jesus’ Baptism. While nothing is found written in Scripture after that event, there is no reason to think that she was not highly honored among Christians. “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb!” exclaims Elizabeth upon seeing Mary for the first time after she is pregnant. Would it be so strange that the apostles would mourn her passing? While the records of the apostles mourning her passing are all extra Biblical, they make sense. She was full of the Holy Spirit. She suffered much. She was present at the Cross. She is mentioned in the recollections of the apostles. Given that all the apostles were the age of her only child, would it be so strange that they would honor her in a special way, particularly since she was among the first of the Spirit-filled? The older I get, the more I realize that Protestants go overly far in almost making her disappear from history, removing her from all human relationships, and almost making her little more than a baby incubator. Again, this does not mean that one has to buy into every Roman doctrine, only that one has to own up to the illogicality of every so removing her.

Also pictured on this icon is something that would be natural. Yes, Jesus is God, but Jesus is also Man. Why would it be so strange that he would mourn the earthly passing of his mother? May “Jesus wept” only be applicable to Lazarus and not to Mary? It is as though upon Ascending, Jesus becomes nothing more than God. His humanity appears to disappear, and it is little acknowledged, outside of Orthodox circles (and maybe Roman) that the two-natured person very well probably mourned the passing of his mother every bit as much as he mourned in the New Testament over several other issues! But, notice that Mary is pictured twice. Once she is pictured as the dead Mary, whom her Son is mourning. The other time she is pictured as a glorified Mary in white robes, going to the bosom of her Son. Both are true of us as well. Our bodies shall die–unless the Lord come first–but our souls/spirits shall be with the Lord. And we shall be clothed in white and every tear shall be wiped away.

But, yesterday (Note: The Feast of the Dormition is celebrated on August 15 or August 28 for those following the Julian Calendar), we remembered the pain of her passing, a pain strong enough that this is one of the earlier feasts of the Church. By the mid-300s, we have records of its being celebrated in Jerusalem on August 15. It may have been celebrated earlier than that, but we simply do not have records. Images of her holding Jesus in her arms are found by the early second century, when those trained directly by the Apostles were still alive. Mary’s impact on the Church was strong enough and early enough that the fundamentalist claims of her being a replacement mother-goddess fall (that is unless one buys into the mid-19th century pseudo-history concoctions of the Germans). I am not arguing that there have not been some Roman extremes concerning Mary. Yes, there have been, and various of those have been repudiated by the Orthodox. But, those extremes do not justify the Protestant/Evangelical/Fundamentalist extremes on the other side.

The bottom line is that Mary died. One of the most courageous women found in Scripture went to her deserved reward. A woman who was told by an angel that a sword should pierce her heart, because of the pain she would feel, was finally laid to rest. The pain was over. The mourning was done. Rest had come. Joy had begun.

Source: http://www.pravmir.com/dormition-theotokos-icon/

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The Quick to Hear: a Rare Icon of the Mother of God from Zograf Monastery

“Icon is the Window into the Kingdom of Heaven”: an Interview with the Head of the Icon Painting Workshop of St. Elisabeth Convent

Looking for Dragons in Orthodox Iconography

Apparition of the Image of the Most Holy Theotokos Painted-by-Light on Mt. Athos

Some Facts about Depicting Deacons in Orthodox Iconography

The Icon of Rest and Joy: Dormition of the Mother of God

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