Some of you are old enough, like me, to remember the Campbell’s soup advertisement, Soup and Sandwich—you can’t have one without the other. Of course, it was based upon “Love and Marriage,” a Frank Sinatra hit from the 50s, which reflects a time when general Christian morals still were making their mark on our society. There are indeed things that naturally go together, so that you can’t have one without the other.
One very famous “pair,” united early in the Orthodox tradition, is the connection between icons and the Incarnation of our LORD. Many Protestants are dumbfounded by this idea. Though most of our Protestant friends consider the Incarnation to be an essential doctrine of the faith, they often look askance at icons as sub-Christian or even as idolatrous. Other more “open” Protestants, who find icons to be a moving form of art work, and a link with the past, do not realize that if it weren’t for the coming of the God-Man into our world, we could not present Him or the righteous saints in visual form. Perhaps we Orthodox also need to remember this from time to time, too.
After all, what is an icon? And why did icons matter so much that there was an ecumenical council to ratify their use in the Church? St John of Damascus, who was a champion in defending the use of icons, tells us that it all goes back to the Incarnation: “I depict what I have seen of God. I do not venerate matter, I venerate the Fashioner of matter, who became matter for my sake and accepted to dwell in matter and through matter worked my salvation, and I will not cease from reverencing matter, through which my salvation was worked. I do not reverence it as God—far from it.”
God the Son, then, has become physical for our sake, and so we honor that material world that He glorified when He entered deeply into it. Part of that honor is vividly expressed in iconography, both those icons that depict the LORD Himself, and those that depict the Holy Theotokos and other saints. We Christians are no longer children, tempted to WORSHIP the creation, but we see the Creator Himself through the images of these splendid brothers and sisters whom He has glorified.
It is a happy coming together of the times, that for us this year, the Sunday of Orthodoxy and the Annunciation of Gabriel to our Lady are conjoined. Quite literally, we celebrate the wonder of icons, and the wonder of the Incarnation on the same weekend—for at Gabriel’s word, our Theotokos conceived the God-man, the One who is the divine Image of the Father. And she, too, is connected with images. In her, we see the fulfillment of Ezekiel’s gate entered through by the LORD, which remains eternally sanctified to Him, the ladder that Jacob saw joining heaven and earth, and the bush that was not consumed by God’s presence. These verbally described icons in the stories of the Old Testament point in shadows to the God-bearer, whose young life, with her acceptance of God’s will, showed more wisdom than even the ruling elders of Israel.
During the procession for this Sunday of Orthodoxy and the Restoration of the Icons, the Gospel book is frequently carried in the midst of the actual icons, reminding us that the icons reflect the gospel, but also that in the gospel stories, we are given narrated pictures, or icons, of Christ, and of those whom He HAS glorified. Let’s spend a little time looking at Luke’s story of the young Theotokos, and how it, too, is a kind of icon that shows us the glory of the LORD.
Luke presents us with an amazing juxtaposition of the Virgin-Mother with her older cousin, Elizabeth. As the two meet, we are given a picture of the Old Covenant and the New Covenant, the history of Israel and the history of the Church, both superintended by God.
Elizabeth’s baby, John, the last of the great prophets, alerts his mother to the advent of this new creation, and to the babe in the womb of the Theotokos who is ushering it in. He jumps in the womb, and so the old world greets the renewed one that is coming.
And even further back in the story, the interchange between the archangel and holy Mary gives us food for thought. “Rejoice, graced one, the Lord is with you,” says Gabriel. It is interesting to notice that the Greek word for “greetings” literally means “Rejoice!” which is why our song to the Theotokos differs from that of the Western Church, whose Latin term for “greetings” means something more like “Hail!” or “Be well.” And indeed, holy young Mary has much to rejoice about: Gabriel addresses her as one who has received God’s grace, and who has the Lord present with her. The Theotokos becomes for us in this story the perfect image of the receptive saint, ready for God’s word, and for God’s plan for her life. The LORD is already with her, but will be so in an even more profound manner. She shows forth what we hope to be our own development in the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us, and who works in us, especially in this Lenten time, to make us more after the likeness of God—to the one who has, said Jesus, even more will be given!
As the talk between Gabriel and Mary continues, the humanity of the Theotokos becomes apparent to us. She certainly is a picture of God’s grace and of the obedient servant, but she is also concerned, and a little confused—as with us, what God can surprise! She is in no way chastised for this confusion—unlike the experience of her uncle Zechariah, who not only was concerned, but showed a lack of trust or belief, and asked for evidence or a kind of proof when the angel told him about his own child to be conceived. The sign given was not what he anticipated, was it? He was made mute by God, unable to speak until finally his son, the Forerunner would be born.
Mary does not even have to speak her concern aloud, however. We are told by Luke that “she was greatly troubled at what Gabriel had said, and tried to discern what sort of greeting this might be.” Immediately, the angel perceives her worry, and reassures her, saying “Do not be afraid.” We hear this same, “Do not fear” several times in the stories of Jesus’ birth, and in the Old Testament, too, when God sends messengers to the patriarchs. It is natural to have awe, or a godly fear, in the presence of the one who comes in the name of the LORD. As C. S. Lewis says about the Lion Aslan who represents the God-Man in his children’s stories, “He is not tame…but He is good.” And the goodness which God is going to display in the Theotokos is not only for her, but for the whole world. God gives His assurance to all who are called to glorify Him. So there is a godly fear, and also an assurance that we need not be terrified by God’s presence with us. St. Paul puts it both ways: “For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, “Abba! Father!” (Romans 8:15); “Since we have these promises, beloved, let us cleanse ourselves from every defilement of body and spirit, bringing holiness to completion in the fear of God” (2 Cor 7:1). Our mother Mary also shows both attitudes towards God when she encounters the angel: a kind of holy boldness, because she trusts; but also a reverent fear, in full awareness that Gabriel stands before the face of the living God, whom she cannot yet see. In this story, we behold the perfect icon of a human being who responds in a godly way to our compassionate yet holy God.
The message that she receives is the entire gospel in a nutshell: “Behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus (in Hebrew, “Saviour”). He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. And the Lord God will give to Him the throne of his father David, and He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of His kingdom there will be no end.” The message to this young, prepared, willing girl, then, is God’s full announcement to humankind of His coming to us, from Nativity through to eternity, the fulfilled Kingdom of God. We are reminded of Jesus’ words of praise to God: “I thank You, O Father, Lord of Heaven and earth, because You have hidden these things from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes”—in this case, to a girl.
Nor is Gabriel put off by Mary’s question concerning how this will happen. Indeed, her question, “How will this be?” becomes the catalyst for her (and us, as we listen in) to be taught about the Holy Spirit’s part in the great miracle of the Incarnation: “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power ofthe Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be called holy—the Son of God.” This “overshadowing” itself reminds us other Biblical pictures—the picture of God hovering over the waters at the first creation; the thick presence of God hovering over Sinai; the presence of God hovering over the ark of the Covenant in the Temple. But something even more wonderful is happening here—a whole NEW creation, a whole NEW “law” of love in which all of humanity will be included, a human tabernacle, not made with hands, that will hold the very presence of God Himself, in Christ. Then Gabriel offers her a sign— Elizabeth’s conception in her old age— to make sure that the young Theotokos (and we!) know that “nothing is impossible with God.” This past Advent and Nativity, many of us were accosted by that musically haunting contemporary carol, “Mary did you know?” The song makes for good drama, but it seems unaware of the depth of the revelation vouchsafed to our Lady. The short answer is, YES, the Theotokos KNEW because God was pleased to reveal to her the identity of her Son, the true human being, the Messianic Son of David, the very Son of God.
She did not know it all, of course, and no doubt her questions continued right through until the great event of Ascension, which she saw, along with the apostles. There would be questions— and sorrow, too— as the countrymen of the Theotokos rejected her Son, and as the pagan Gentiles killed him. A sword would pierce her heart! God’s way is not always easy. But in her humility, innocence, and trusting humanity, this young woman says “Yes, let it be so,” and so undoes the distrust and rebellion of the first woman, followed by her husband Adam. Mary hears the word of God, and responds with willingness. And at her human word of acceptance, the Word of God was no longer external to her, coming to her ears, but within her, making her womb more spacious than the whole universe. Indeed, Mary is simply, in a time prior to the Incarnation, showing forth the “Amen,” the “yes” that will always be on Jesus’ lips during His ministry, as He does the will of the Father: “Truly, truly, I say to you… whatever the Father does, that the Son does likewise. For the Father loves the Son and shows him all that he himself is doing.” Like Son, like Mother. In a smaller way, the Theotokos was shown what the Father was about to do, and when she said “yes,” she participated in that. She herself, in her action and will, points forward to the One whose will is ALWAYS in accord with the Father, for they share everything.
Indeed, St. Paul tells us that the One whom she bore is the exact image of the Father. In the letter to the Colossians, the apostle recites for us what was probably an ancient hymn, in which we see how Jesus is both the revelation of the Father, and the One who joins all creation together:
He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation. For through Him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities—all things were created through Him and for Him. And He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together. And He is the head of the body, the church. He is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, that in everything He might be preeminent. For in Him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through Him to reconcile to Himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, making peace by the blood of His cross.
Colossians 1:15-20
Jesus collaborated willingly with the Father, to reconcile to Himself the whole cosmos, by means of the wood of the cross, and His blood. Mary was willing to say “yes” to a task that must have been difficult—can you imagine being mother to God-in-young-flesh? We see something of that difficulty in the episode where she loses the twelve-year-old Jesus in the Temple. And the prophet Symeon, too, has spoken of a greater suffering she would undergo. When Mary embraced God’s will, she pointed forward to the complete sacrifice of our LORD. As a result, just as God was pleased to dwell, in all His fulness, in the God-Man, so God the Son was pleased to dwell, for a time, in the womb of Mary, and then in her household, and then among her people, in order to bring the world to life and to light. She carried Him, as though she were a temple, or a throne.
Our hymn declares “He made her body into a throne”—how is that for an image? She even, in her youthful humanity, supplants the honor of ages-old cherubim, upon whom the Lord’s heavenly ark was supported. This was, of course, a special honor given to the Theotokos, but it also becomes for us a picture of what each of us and all of us are meant to be. One of the Psalms declares that the LORD is enthroned “on the praises of Israel.” We see a concrete picture of that liturgical enthronement in our holy Theotokos, who magnified the LORD and the saving One she was carrying when she visited Elizabeth: “My soul magnifies the LORD!” All who accept this good news, and who similarly say “Yes!” to God are made into God-bearers in another way, rejoicing as we carry the cross. We are, if you like, little “Christophers,” bearers of Christ, not in our wombs, but with all that we are and have.
This story in the first chapter of Luke, then, fills out for us the icon of the Annunciation that we see before us in our sanctuaries—the word of God through the angel, responded to by a willing young woman, who is made herself to be the bearer of the Word, undoing the primal curse. The Word becomes flesh so that she can feel, nurture, love, and obey Him. The Word becomes flesh so that we can see Him. The Word becomes flesh so that His likeness can be imprinted on all of us in God’s family who love Him. In the end, Icons and the Annunciation are both about how God dwells in human beings, and how He lifts us up to be in His company. The overshadowing of the Virgin by the Holy Spirit, and her conception of God the Word were not simply that we should be rescued from sin and death —wonderful though this is— but to restore the image of God in humanity, and to make a path so that we will become more and more like Him. Incarnation and icon—you can’t have one without the other!
The holy Theotokos welcomed the messenger from God, and welcomed the God-Man himself. We, too, are given opportunities all through this Lenten season to welcome God’s word, and God’s will for us, as we follow Jesus through the forty days to the Cross, to the grave, and beyond that, to the glory of Pascha. Let us, then, receive Him with joy:
Welcome, all wonders in one sight!
(Richard Crashaw, 17th c. poet)
Eternity shut in a span;
Summer in winter; day in night;
Heaven in earth, and God in man.
Great little one, whose all-embracing birth
Lifts earth to heaven, stoops heav’n to earth.
Edith M. Humphrey 