Theopany - The Baptism of Christ

Theophany - the Baptism of Christ

            Being of a parish that continues to use the Old Calendar can often be convenient!  I had been busy finishing a wedding icon and unable to get on with an icon of Theophany that I had already transferred to a panel before leaving New York in November.  I was definitely not going to have it finished for the New Calendar Theophany, but have just squeaked by in time for the Old!

               Since the first century there has been a Feast of Lights, so called because God is the Light and reveals Himself to illumine "those who sat in darkness and the shadow of death" (Mt. 4:16) .  This feast on January 6/19 celebrates the advent – the coming -  of the Son of God into the world as Jesus Christ, and also His early years up to and including His Baptism in the River Jordan, which marked the beginning of Jesus’ earthly ministry.

               Over the centuries, the various events of Christ’s early years were separated into individual feasts on different days: the Nativity, visitation of the Magi, Circumcision, presentation in the Temple.  The principal event, Christ’s Baptism, continued to be commemorated January 6.  For Eastern Orthodox Christians, this Theophany is more important than the Nativity, in that it is a full manifestation of Christ’s divinity.

               “Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him.  John would have prevented him, saying ‘I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?’  But Jesus answered him, ‘Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.”  Then he consented.  And when Jesus had been baptized, just as He came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to Him and He saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on Him.  And a voice from heaven said, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”  Matt 3:3-10.

               This is the Theophany or Epiphany of the Holy Trinity – the revelation of God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit.

               At the top of the icon we see a heavenly semi-circle with rays of light coming from it, and a beam of light that encloses a dove.  These represent God the Father and the Holy Spirit, descending  upon Christ in affirmation and blessing.

               Christ’s descent into the baptismal waters of the Jordan foreshadows his Descent into Hell and its meaning is the same: through His death Christ will save man.  The icon illustrates the paradox that Jesus is revealed as the Son of God in the submissive act of baptism by John, a mere man.  Though John is the baptizer, he is not central to the scene, but, standing on the bank, is bent over in reverence to Christ.  In many icons, a tree is placed near John with an axe at its roots to illustrate that the tree that does not bring forth good fruit is hewn down.  (Matt 3:10)  Contrary to that, John’s teachings and role are not done away with now that the Holy Trinity has been revealed.

               On the opposite bank, three angels (an image of the Trinity) with hands veiled as a sign of respect, wait to clothe Christ and minister to Him when He leaves the river.

               Without a doubt, Christ is the commanding central figure.  He appears to stand on the waters of the Jordan, strong and erectly beautiful wearing only a loincloth, although many ancient icons showed Him naked.  He seems almost as wide as the river itself, as if He himself cut the cleft between the narrow mountains.  If there is any doubt about His and John’s roles in the drama, one look at Christ’s right hand tells the story:  it makes the priestly sign of blessing on the proceedings.  It is not the waters of the Jordan that are cleansing Christ; rather He is cleansing the waters of baptism, so that we may swim in pure waters.  Water has always been used for healing and cleansing of the body, as well as for moral and spiritual cleansing.

               Throughout the ages, the waters of the river Jordan have been seen to “turn back”, to flow against its usual current.   This is told in the Old Testament, when the Ark of the Covenant was carried across the river to the Promised Land of Canaan; when Prophet Elias struck its waters with a cloak; when, after Elias’ ascension, Elijah did the same; and even in our times it has been witnessed by thousands of pilgrims at Theophany.  

Theophany Eve Holy Supper

                In many Eastern Orthodox parishes and homes today, a fasting meal is prepared which is eaten just before going to church on the eve of Theophany.  In my home parish in New York, the meal has become an annual affair, served in the church hall as a parish event.  Although sometimes a bit of "greenery" appears in the food line to brighten the table, it is more a ritual meal, much like the Jewish sedar, with the same fasting foods from year to year.  One custom I love is raw garlic cloves dipped in honey.  This symbolizes life, with its sweetness and bitterness.  Once, many years ago, I attended a supper at the home of an elderly parishioner.  Tables were set up in her cellar, the floor of which was strewn with straw to represent the stable in which the Christ Child was born.  I remember the sound of her quavery old voice, leading in the singing of the Theophany tropar:

"At Your Baptism in the Jordan, O Lord, worship of the Trinity was revealed, for the Father's voice bore witness to You, calling you His Beloved Son, and the Spirit in the form of a dove confirmed the truth of these words.  O Christ God, Who appeared and enlightened the world, glory to you!"

 

Archangel Michael, and an icon for a wedding

           

               To have the chance to begin work on a new icon is exciting.  Sometimes I will be asked to write a favorite icon such as the Vladimir Mother of God, and since this is one I have already done before, I can get right to work.  Maybe someone wants an icon of the patron saint of a family member for a gift, which involves a bit more of a challenge.  Recently a friend asked me to paint St. Michael for her son, so I showed her several versions.  She is not Orthodox and some versions were less appealing than others, so in the end she decided on a compilation of two.  I gave her a preliminary sketch of St. Michael in full body armor, complete with shield and spear, depicting him as the warrior for God that Orthodox people know him to be.  I really liked this sketch of him and also the freedom to choose the colors of his clothing, since there were differences.  The mom was happy and I hope Michael enjoyed his Christmas gift.

               But just recently I had an very exciting opportunity!  A friend’s daughter was being married right after Christmas and she asked me to paint a wedding icon for the couple.  She told me that she wanted it like one that had been commissioned for her wedding anniversary, in which the patron saints of herself and her husband were in the icon with Christ.  I told her I would take the idea and include the patron saints of the two young people being married.

               Although the young martyr Lucia was from Sicily, she is most popular among western European Christians, and mainly Swedish people.  The groom’s saint was young Stephen, who is called the first martyr of the Christian Church, and a deacon.    This meant that she needed to be dressed in virginal white and he in the white vestment of a deacon – not interesting from a color standpoint.

               The completed icon is a deesis of the three figures, with Christ in the center and the two young saints bowing toward him, hands in a gesture of supplication.   

                May God bless the union of these two young people.  

               

To Blog - from a Snowbird point of view, complete with reasons for Not blogging lately

               I know that if you are visiting Rejoiceicons today, you expect I will continue with a discussion about my current icon project, or something I have learned about icons through recent research.  You can see it’s been a while since I last wrote.  I recently read of a noted author who confessed to being very bad about keeping up with his blog, and I certainly understand and agree.  So much of life seems to get in the way, although I can hardly say I am attempting the Great American Novel as this fellow is. 

               But bear with me.

               I have just recently completed the southern trek to my Florida winter home, from New York State.  I was at a local Florida mall today and discovered a display of bonsai plants, which interest me as well as several of my children – the ones who inherited their father’s green thumb.  To let the seller know the level of my commitment to bonsai, I told him I was a snowbird to which he replied, “I won’t hold that against you”.  In retrospect I just realized that this was a pretty snotty thing to say to a lady of my age and dignity.  Among other things, I must be losing my speed on the uptake. 

               But snowbirding, as with age, is not for the sissies among us.  I told an Indian friend that it was a schizophrenic existence and she was immediately shocked that I would admit to the disease, but it is so.  Arrival at one place or the other after 6 months in “the other” means the beginning of a mental re-training period.  Where do I keep the cereal?  What happened to that blue casserole dish?  Why did I bring white slacks south – that’s bringing coals to New Castle.  And at church, wait a minute, I’ll remember that tone if you hum a bar or two.  Shucks, did I forget the rent check for Florida?

               Even before the trek and the retraining comes the thinking and then the packing.  The thinking begins soon after I arrive in one place or the other, when I start a list that is headed “things NOT to bring back!” and the list gets longer and longer.  And something is always forgotten.  As the months go by (we’re talking north or south), all the things I’ve put off and need to take care of, become condensed into a month, then a week, then--- on another “to do” list. 

               The night before The Big Trek South, daughter Mary comes to the rescue and restores sanity and calm.  This has been happening for 8 winters now, and when Carlo approached the Problem the first year, Mary timorously offered her opinion, and for the rest of his life (sadly only a few years) Mary was The Packer.  Sort of Pack Rat becomes Packer.  That girl can squeeze stuff in places a bat couldn’t fit into!

               Oh but the real fun is The Day We Leave – in either direction.  Easily accessible behind the driver’s seat is a special pink plastic bag containing rubber gloves, disinfectant spray, a wet cloth, paper towels – and cat food.  The last thing the night before, we have covered the interior of the car with a 9 x 12 sheet of el cheapo plastic. The only thing exposed is The Litter Box.  In the morning, The Cat is deposited in the back seat next to it and begins to yowl.  We wave good-bye and take off in whichever direction the calendar tells us. 

               The Cat is called Gatsby and for all of his 11 years he has lived by a Rule of 5.  In 5 miles or 5 minutes (his choice) he empties every orifice of his body.  Having everything at the ready, I (because the “we” suddenly isn’t interested) use the contents of the pink bag to eradicate all evidence of the Rule of 5.  In about 30 minutes, The Cat is a contented as the proverbial cow.  We stay overnight at a motel and he guards the car from inside.  Next morning is as if he has never heard of the Rule and we continue peacefully to our destination, with Gatsby curled around the gear shift of the car.   

               I won’t go into the inevitable unpacking and reorientation that occurs after the arrival Here or There, but please forgive and understand the delay since my last blog and I really, really hope to improve.  That’s what something is supposed to do with age, right – improve?

               I promise that my next blog will be completely serious…

Icon of the Protection of the Mother of God

                                                     The Protection of the Mother of God

                The Carpatho-Russian church dedicated to the Protection of the Blessed Virgin or Theotokos has been standing on the south shore of the Chemung River in the city of Corning, NY. for close to 100 years.  The rather small and humble white-frame building is reached by 40 steps to tower over the river, but once inside the nave, the visitor receives his reward for the upward trek.  The interior of the church is like a jewelbox with contents spilled – the wall murals, the stained glass windows, the wall of icons, the ceiling, all bespeak the love of those who contributed them to the small church over those years.

 

                On October 1 (October 14 Old Calendar) Orthodox Christians celebrate a favorite holy day of the Slavic people, in which lies a little irony – more about that later.

                 The Protection, in Russian, the Pokrov, commemorates an event that took place in Constantinople in the 10^th century, in the church of Blachernae.  The city was under threat of an invasion by Slavic barbarians, and the church was filled with faithful gathered there in great fear to pray that their city be spared.  St. Andrew, the Fool for Christ, was in the church and saw the dome open and the Mother of God moving in the air in front of the altar.  She was surrounded by angels and saints as she prayed to God that He would accept the prayers of all faithful Christians and spare them and their city.  Also in the congregation was Romanos, Andrew’s friend who also saw the Virgin, who then appeared to all in the church.  In the synaxis of this holy day, St. Andrew is celebrated on October 2 and St. Romanos during that time also, because of the Christmas hymn he later wrote to the Theotokos.

                The icon of the Pokrov is one of the very few in which Christ does not appear with the Virgin.  In the icon we see her solitary figure with arms outstretched in blessing, and a white veil between them as if to protect us by it.  For close to 100 years the Theotokos has stood in protection over the city of Corning, which has undergone at least three disastrous floods and the little church of St. Mary’s has survived. 

                And the rest of the story?  Well, remember those Slavic hordes about to invade Constantinople? The Protection is a favorite holy day of the Slavic people today.  And the icon is not in the Byzantine (Contantinopolitan ) tradition

Romanian Icon-Eggs

                                                          Romanian Icon-Eggs 

 

            Most people are familiar with the Eastern European art of egg decorating called Pysanky.  Probably the most familiar are those of the Ukrainian people.  The name comes from the verb to write because a stylus is used to write with wax on the egg shell.  After the entire design is finished, the egg, which now has a great deal of wax on it, is held to the side of a candle flame and the wax is melted.  Hens’ eggs are mostly used for pysanky and the work is known for its intricacy,  delicacy, and brilliant colors.

 

            On a visit to Renninger’s Flea and Antique Market in Mt. Dora, FL I chanced on a shop with the intriguing title of “Ghost Orchid”.  No Orchids.  But tucked among mostly Romanian imported wooden items were a couple of icons in the traditional style, and then some really beautiful icons painted inside duck eggs.          

             Although the duck egg icons I found began with the pysanky process of drawing the raw egg through the hole, the method and materials used were very different.  First, tweezers were used to break away about 1/3 of the shell, leaving a jagged cut.   A festal or feast day icon was then painted inside the egg shell.  The outside of the egg shell was painted with gold and edged with an intricate design created by the pysanky method of hot wax, using beads of colored wax to form a geometric design.  The jagged edges were painted as mountain peaks, in the traditional style of Byzantine icons.  The impression was of looking into a cave where a wondrous thing was happening.  

             These two icons depict the Orthodox feast days The Descent into Hades and The Transfiguration.  For an idea of the size of the duck eggs, they are sitting in a lowly shot glass.

            The owner of the shop told me that I had bought the last four icon eggs she had and she suspected she would not get more.  For a small dealer, the fees upon costly fees, delays in shipment, and general aggravation of international importing were not worth it.  I was unhappy with this because I had already had a number of requests from friends to buy one for them.  If you’re wondering about price, they were $30 each.  Imagine how much the iconographer back in Romania got for his art!

            This wonderful “find” was proof to me, again, that natural surfaces such as unfinished wood, stone, slate, and many more, including this most elemental object, an egg, can be used to great advantage in iconography.

 He is in all places and fills all things.



Icon of the Descent into Hades

 Side of above egg icon

 

Icon of the Transfiguration

 Side of the above icon

 

        

Icons of Our Lady of Czestochowa

       I love to scrounge around antique and consignment shops, especially in Florida where we northerners often end up. I look for icons or other religious objects, and last year I found this metal-covered icon, just less than 5x7”. Curiosity made me remove the small pins holding the covering on, and take the covering off to see the icon underneath. It was actually a sort of postcard of an ancient icon, and a further look at the wood behind it showed that the whole thing was quite recently put together. It took only moments online to find that this was a copy of the icon Our Lady of Czestochowa, much loved by Polish and other Slavic people, and for whom many churches are named.

      This photo of my antiquing find shows the metal cover that has been put over the original icon to preserve it and probably to enhance and decorate it.The metal is worked so that many of the details of the icon itself, such as the designs on the robes of the Theotokos and Child, are in relief. I think a mold would have been made of the metal cover so that many copies could be made, and that probably this particular metal cover is not very old.   Most interesting was that, as the photo shows, someone had used a stylus, probably after the cover was completed, to engrave several very tiny, crude scenes on the metal cover.  These could be scenes from the life of the Theotokos as taken from the Gospel of the Nativity of Mary, an ancient manuscript.  Finally, some metal such as brass was used to make intricate halos and crowns, with angels holding the crowns, which were afixed to the metal cover, so the tiny engravings are partially hidden.

 



     In copying and painting this very old icon, above, I found it almost impossible to make out the face of the Child – evidence of the many years of veneration. The internet provided a more modern version of the icon, but I was so struck by this representation that I have painted my own, hoping to capture the lovely face of Our Lady, the Mother of God.  I chose to use the lighter skin tones and bright colors of the garments as they might have been when the icon was first painted, before years of lamp smoke, grime, and desecration gave it the name The Black Madonna.

     I am thankful to the website of Our Lady of Czestochwa National Catholic Church, in Latham, NY for the following history of the icon. 

The Miraculous Image

Tradition holds that St. Luke painted it on the top of a cypress-wood table that came from the home of the Holy Family. At the request of the faithful, Mary sat for the portrait. When it was finished, she was pleased, saying that "My grace shall accompany it." Thus began the wonderful history of the painting.

Venerated for nearly 300 years while hidden in Jerusalem, the painting was discovered by St. Helen while she was searching for the True Cross. She brought it back to Constantinople and presented it to her son, Constantine the Great, the first Christian Emperor of Rome. Constantine built a chapel for the portrait, where it remained for five centuries.

Miracle upon miracle was attributed to the intercession of Mary by persons praying before the portrait. Over the years, many enemies laid siege to Constantinople. The chapel became a center of hope for the people of the city. During one attack, the city seemed ready to fall, but the people rallied to the painting, and Constantinople was saved. Another time, the city was under attack, and the chapel caught fire. Everything was destroyed except a small section of wall upon which hung the painting of Mary and Jesus. The intense heat and soot from the fire had darkened the already dark olive features of the Madonna and Child.

Eventually, the painting was given by the Byzantine Emperor to a Ruthenian nobleman. The portrait was taken to Kiev and installed in the Royal Palace of Belz. It remained there for the next 579 years.

In 1382, the painting was damaged by invading Tartars. An arrow pierced the Miraculous Image, leaving a scar that is still visible on the neck of the Madonna. Concerned with the portrait's safety, Prince Ladislaus Opolski decided to move it to one of his castles in Upper Silesia.

On the brow of a hill called Jasna Gora ("bright hill") -- and within a few paces of the town of Czestochowa -- the horses drawing the wagon with the painting stopped. No amount of coaxing or goading could make them go on. Mary appeared to Ladislaus and told him that this spot was to be Her new home. The Miraculous Image was placed in a chapel and given to the care of the Basilian monks of the Greek Rite. A few years later, Prince Ladislaus gave its care to the Latin Rite Hermits of St. Paul, who are still there to this day.

The remarkable history of the painting continued. It figured prominently in the heroic and successful defense of Poland against invaders who were enemies of the Church. Over time, the monastery at Jasna Gora became a monastic fortress -- and the focal point for Polish nationalism.

In 1655, the monastery held out against a mighty Swedish army. In 1683, it was the Turks who attacked. And, in 1920, the Bolsheviks. As a result of these and other historical events, Our Lady of Czestochowa was crowned as Queen of Poland. Her Feast is observed on May 3 which is also the anniversary of the Polish Constitution.

Throughout the centuries, the painting did not escape desecration and mutilation. In 1430, Hussites looted the monastery. Pillaging whatever they could find, they loaded all of the treasures of Jasna Gora into wagons. Horses pulling the wagon with the painting refused to move. The Hussites threw the portrait off the wagon, and the horses began to pull it forward. One of the raiders -- seeing the jewels and gold covering the painting -- slashed at it with sabers. Having cut twice into the right cheek of Mary, he prepared to strike it for a third time -- and fell dead. The other raiders fled for fear of Divine Retribution.

Repeated efforts by skilled artists to patch the scars failed. Each time the facial cuts reappeared. It is believed to be the will of Mary that the scars should remain as a sign to any who would desecrate Her Shrine.

In 1909, vandals tore off the gold crown and "overdress" of pearls. This sacrilege was repaired and the portrait was restored with the help of Pope Pius X, who furnished a new crown. Today, a painting of Our Lady of Czestochowa adorns the altar of the Pope's private chapel at Castol Gondolfo.

Why Is She Referred to as The Black Madonna?

"Black Madonna" is a nickname. It refers to skin tones in the portrait of Mary and Jesus. They and St. Joseph lived in a hot climate. Hence, their skin tone would be dark brown or olive in order to survive the intensity of the sun and avoid skin cancer.

Not until the Renaissance were there paintings of Jesus and Mary with alabaster skin, blue eyes and blond hair. Previously, all religious artwork reflected the olive skin, with black or brown hair and eyes attributed to the Holy Family and the Apostles.

Contributing to the portrait's blackened appearance is the fact that the painting is nearly 2,000 years old. When St. Luke painted the portrait of Mary with Christ, he did so with crude oil paints, which naturally dull and darken with age.

Additionally, the painting has survived a major fire -- the one in Constantinople referred to earlier. Beyond that, tens of thousands of pots of incense have been burned near the painting while it was in the Eastern Orthodox Church. And, millions of wax candles have been placed before it as people make their prayerful offerings.

These and other factors have resulted in darkening the Miraculous Image -- the portrait now referred to as "The Black Madonna."

 

 

Stained glass windows

 

The trees in the woods across the field from our house have already begun to change color these last two weeks.  Autumn comes early to this part of New York state.

                Today I am going to begin work in earnest on a small but interesting project: painting the face of Christ on glass.  Of course, thereby hangs a tale.

                We meet so many interesting people as we go through life and sometimes we connect in ways not first imagined.  Last winter in Florida, I attended an art exhibit at our local city hall and met an artist who works in wood.  Living on the shore of a lake, in the middle of what once was a cypress grove, his imagination has been fired by shapes he sees in cypress “knees”.  With a minimum of polishing and cutting, he reveals a subject and gives it a title.  I was struck by his Roadrunner, and as we talked, I told him about the several icons I had painted of Christ on weathered wood.  Being a faithful person, he understood what I am trying to express:  that Christ is present in all places and all things, because He is the creator of all.

                It was not until later that I met this artist’s wife, who works in stained glass, usually creating tropical scenes.  She had recently received a commission for a number of stained glass windows for a church in the Florida Keys, each to illustrate a Gospel parable.  However, she felt that she was not capable of painting the face of Christ for the scenes.   Her husband suggested I might be able to do it.  And that was the beginning of a new venture in art for me!

 

In Vince's studio with completed window of "The Good Shepherd"

 

 

"The Loaves and the Fishes" installed in Keys church

 

Christ walking on the water to Peter

 

                Believe me when I say I had no idea what I was doing when I started, and after two completed windows I am still learning how much I don’t know, but apparently my friends and their church are happy with the results.