The Korsun Mother of God and a Priest's Life

Father Michael Himes died recently, a Brooklyn priest who taught me in seminary in the 1970's. Much has been written about Father Himes of course, as he was a brilliant theologian who made every theological point immediately meaningful for our own time and lives. But as I wrote to a classmate- friend recently, I remember the precise moment (and even where I was sitting in class) when I realized more than anything that this priest loved us. He never spoke to us as if he thought we were stupid or that he was above us, or that we were a waste of his time. That was an important lesson for us who were preparing for priesthood. How grateful I am that our paths had crossed.

Steve Miller wrote a reflective essay about Father Himes. Here's the paragraph I think was most important.

Father Himes told the story of a young woman traveling to the New World with a female companion. The companion went above deck for some fresh air but the young woman stayed below attending to an expectant mother. A rogue wave surged over the deck washing the companion overboard and into the sea, where she perished. The young woman  whose life was spared was Michael Himes' great grandmother. He made the point that for the trillion upon trillion upon trillion circumstances, decisions and twists had to go just right for him to come into existence and how "very extraordinary love" had made his life and each of ours. 

 

And here is a 19th century icon of the Korsun Mother of God. We see the Mother of God and the Holy Child from the shoulder up. Faces and hands. the Mother of God wears a terra-cotta colored maphorian (mantle) — she is not a goddess, but of the earth, and as such she is one with us. Notice there are folds in her mantle that echo those found in nature: the ridges of a scallop shell, the pleats of a palm branch, the gills of a mushroom which springs up overnight. 

The icon is filled with intense emotion. The elongated fingers, the intertwined hands, the inclination of heads and faces pressed to each other, the tightness of lips, even the furrowed brows. The Christ Child seems to have been swept up by and into the Mother's love — perhaps an image of the soul's longing and aspiring to higher, spiritual things. Notice the Child has a good grip on Mary's mantle. We need to "hold on tight" these days of stress and sadness, lies, violent death and clay-minded power displays. Hold on tight!

The Christ holds the Gospel-Word in a little white scroll. But the scroll is yet to be unrolled. There is time for that. Right now he wants for us to know that we are blessed and held in the "very extraordinary love," that marvelously and wondrously secures each of us each day.