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Mar 25, 2017 1291 Heidi Bock
Evangelize

Call and Answer

Several years ago, I was given a housewarming gift unlike any I had ever received before. Christ the Pantocrator, an icon written and given to me by a most beloved friend. An exquisite, incredible work of art. It is a window into the soul of Our Blessed Lord, with its bright gold brush strokes surrounding and haloing the dark brown of Christ’s hair and stoic frame. It is, however, His eyes that seem to pierce right through the soul as one cannot help but gaze into them. A small crumb of Heaven, it is a great treasure, though it has become more to me than an object. It is an invitation, an encounter with the Divine right here in my little home.

If you grew up with or are accustomed to “art forms” such as Jesus at the Bat or Precious Moments, icons may at first seem rather serious and perhaps even a little drab to the malnourished eye, the nature of an icon being that of solemnity and profundity; but like many worthy and even acquired tastes, icons present a singular presence and awareness that no other art form can offer.

Brother Victor-Antoine D’Avila-Latourrette, a resident monk at Our Lady of the Resurrection Monastery in Millbrook, New York, says, “In the icon, there is never room for creative fantasy or a fancy imagination. In its austere sobriety, the icon and the iconographer never step beyond the Scriptures or the virtues of the holy person they represent. Icons are truly vehicles of prayer, for besides instructing us in the mysteries of the faith, they also embellish God’s house with the beauty of a mysterious supernatural presence. To pray daily before an icon is to become aware in a unique way of the presence it represents. During the veneration of icons, a daily experience in our monastic worship, prayerfully we come into physical and spiritual contact with the mystery or person portrayed in the particular icon. This powerful, intangible contact feeds not only our faith, but also our prayer and our piety.”

I remember placing it gently upon my mantel, thinking it a proper spot for such a piece of art. (Icons were something quite familiar to my upbringing as my mother also shared a friendship with the iconographer already spoken of above. In fact, it was her art that played a significant role in my mother’s “ongoing conversion,” as she used to call it, and to mine as well). I would walk past it in the mornings, blindly reaching for the coffee pot, and it seemed as if He was looking at me, present and yearning. A quaint hello was at the very least a polite response on my part to so longing and tender an expression of love. And then there would be the diaper changes before the fireplace, or the family prayers at night, and there He was again . . . waiting, hopeful, lovely, and so, so beautiful. I found myself falling deeply and truly in love with so loving a Face. A mere glance at His serene countenance would give me a gentle peace, a calm encouragement in my vocation.

It was not long after that, that my mother became ill. I do not just mean sick, but terminally ill. They gave us three to six months. The devastation of that kind of diagnosis goes beyond expression. I spent much time in confusion, pain, and fear. Sometimes I went for what seemed like days without sleep, hovering over her sickbed; at other times, I felt I that I could not get out of bed. And as I would gather my belongings to go out the door to the hospital, my eyes would turn to that icon. There He was. He was always there. I would take Him with me, in my heart, a little oratory within of that beautiful, serene Presence. And when I came home at three o’clock in the morning some days, He was still there, as if He had never left my side. Little by little, I let Him enter in—and He came, never demanding, never threatening, but softly, peacefully, and oh, so gently. My love grew, as did mom’s cancer and when she finally died, He was there still. My Beloved: before me, beside me, above me, within me, around me.

I do not know if I could have come out of that tragedy with the peace and joy that I feel today had it not been for that little icon. His presence filled my soul with a courage that even others were aware of and often inquired of me about. That daily, small, divine invitation produced spiritual fruit that I have no doubt will last my whole life, and continues to be fruitful each and every day. It is not something that you can experience in a Precious Moments image. The icon transcends the timeline of history, as our gaze reaches into the heights of Heaven, giving us renewed strength, determination, and a willingness to fulfill our earthly obligations with profound hope and an unspeakable joy in God Almighty.

Do you have icons in your home? Do you make time each day to have even a small encounter with the Divine Romance? Consider purchasing an icon, perhaps of Our Lord or His Blessed Mother, and place it in a prayer corner within your home. Go there, in times of joy and especially in times of sorrow. He will be there. He will always be there, giving you strength, stability, tender love, and hope. I can attest to this reality in my own little life.

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Heidi Bock

Heidi Bock is the found of Brave New Family (www.bravenewfamily.net). Reprinted with permission.

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