We cheat ourselves when we simply do religious things, show up reliably, but fail to ask why or what does it mean? This marvelous 6th century icon of the Theotokos Kyriotissa (Mother of God Enthroned) has been kept safe for centuries in the Sinai Desert Monastery of St. Catherine. And here it is for us to see, to gaze upon, to enter, pray before and with. But what does it mean?
For all of its symmetrical and static appearance, there's a lot going on in this image. Did you notice, the figures are in an enclosure. See the decorated wall in the upper left and right corners. This suggests that we are standing before them ~ we are at the threshold, the borderline which is a place of beginning. We can choose simply to nod and admire them from the outside, or, we can step over into the inner world of the angels, the saints, the Holy Mother and the boy Christ. The walls also suggest we can enter our own inner world where we may come to know ourselves truly and not as we pretend to be. Or maybe these are not two distinct rooms, but are one in the same.
Notice at the very top and center, God's hand appears, as if it has broken through the roof. The hand appears inside the little bit of a circle, which, if we saw beyond the painting's edges, it would form a complete circle, symbolic of God's realm. What does it mean? It means that in Christ, now, the dividing lines and barriers are opened. God is here. The angels understand and look up, perhaps to see what's going to happen next. They look startled by it, don't they? They are illumined, wide-eyed and awake. I want to pay attention like this.
Then we see the Mother of God sitting on a throne. Her feet are up on a slightly raised platform. Her legs are pointed to her left, as are her eyes. What is she looking at? or Who is she looking for? Perhaps she is looking for humankind in our spiritual crisis — the crisis of our having failed the paradise we were given to care for — that failure born of our winner-takes-all, might-makes-right, take-what-you-can-get, self-worship. That spiritual crisis! We don't avoid spiritual crisis because we do devotions and go to Mass. More than an ecological crisis, we're living in a spiritual crisis. Oceans choked with disintegrating, micro-plastic — that's a spiritual crisis. People in leadership are not understanding this. In her distant gazing, maybe the Holy Mother is searching for us in this crisis.
Notice that while the Mother sits and looks to her left, the Child sits with legs to his right but he looks straight out at us—at you—at me. Or maybe the Holy Mother and Child are looking into the distance, the future of what's to become of us, the future implications for our folly.
But what makes the six figures distinctly Christian is their wide open eyes. When our physical eyes are really open, they are taking in light. But I want to take in spiritual light. The angels seem to be transformed into white-light. St. Theodore on the left and St. George on the right are looking directly at us, inviting us to wake up, that we might become truly good, gentle, united to God. They stand, grown up, in the virtue of attention. Christianity often talks about living the virtuous life (practiced goodness), but I can't say I've ever heard a preacher say paying attention is a virtue. I think we'd be more apt to hear "paying attention" dismissed as, "Oh, that's Buddhist," even though Jesus said, "Consider the lilies, consider the little birds of the air."
Lastly, Theodore and George were warrior saints. Some Christians think of discipleship as a battle with a long list of outside enemies. I received a thick fundraiser envelope in the mail recently from a men's religious order that sees itself as fighting in the front lines of a great culture war. All dressed up in their dramatic habits, rows and rows of clergy who think they have a corner on truth, ready to fight the others who don't share their worldview. That can make for a kind of corporate, "buy my product" religion.
But I'd say the real battle, the battle many people never think to undertake, is the battle with our own superficiality, materialism. We need to undertake a national battle to save our own weaponized, embalmed hearts. There's the battlefield of preferring to be unconscious to our consumerism and its negative spiritual effects. An evening of TV commercials offers a picture of how idiotic and ridiculous we are — products inviting us to share in the singing, dancing, laughing of our first-world-way. It's said that if the whole world consumed resources the way we do, five planets would be needed to hold the waste and garbage. Seeing the two warrior saints, I'd say the place of battle is not outside, but in our own unexplored souls, our psyche, our inside life. The place where we never change our minds. I listen to interviews with people these pre-election days — how superficial, how selfish and self-involved, how unaware many people are — how disappointing.
William Blake wrote, "The person who never alters his/her opinion is like standing water which breeds reptiles of the mind."
Maybe we can close our time with prayer — before this Kyriotissa Mother of God.
O Christ, our God,
save us by your interface,
your wisdom-revealing eyes,
your high forehead of Immanuel,
your blessing hand,
your teaching scroll.
O enthroned Lady,
by the secure holding of your Son,
your searching gaze,
the dignity you bear,
the expansion of your thoughts,
your silent contemplation ~
lead us to all-goodness.
O Holy Martyrs Theodore and George,
by your spiritual enclosure,
your cultivation of a true humanity,
your gentling union with God,
by your cleanness of heart,
your virtuous attention,
your eyes open to spiritual light ~
keep us standing in our warfare
against indifference and violence.
Amen.
