Why do we pray before icons of the
saints? After all, it is God whom we worship. Do we just keep statues
and pictures of the saints around as reminders - like we keep photos
of our aunts and uncles? No, we honour our saints because, like
us, each of them had the Blessed Trinity dwelling within them, and
(perhaps unlike us), the transparency of their lives made God's
beauty visible.
It is like this.
I go for a walk in the garden to make the Stations of the Cross.
It is a clear, autumn morning, the time is 5.50 a.m. and the moon
is full. Every tree is picked out with spotlight clarity. The stations
on the east side of the garden are lit up vividly, but on the west
side we can see nothing because the moonlight is so blinding. After
the Stations of the Cross, we walk to the end of the path which
faces due east. There is just a hint of rose and a paling in the
sky. We turn back and walk towards the church. The moon is full
on our faces, and so bright, we cannot keep our eyes on it. Then
it dawns on me. The moon has no light of its own, it is a dull lump
of ore; its brilliance is only a reflection of the sun we cannot
see.
How incredibly bright the sun must be if the tiny moon, so distant
from it, is so stunning.
I cannot conveniently look into the face of the sun, nor could I
bear the unveiled beauty of God - but I can see his reflection in
the saints.
Click to enlarge
This picture is not an icon in
the formal (and Byzantine) artistic sense, it is more an icon like those
on your computer screen. It was painted by Giotto and is part of a fresco
in the Basilica of St Francis. There are two contemporary portraits
of Francis, one at Mount Subasio, and one at Greccio of him, weeping.
Giotto has followed this latter portrait. And it fits well the detailed
and not entirely flattering description of Francis, given by Thomas
of Celano (First Life ch.29):
"He was very eloquent, with
a cheerful appearance and a kind face; free of laziness and arrogance.
He was of medium height, closer to short, his head was of medium
size and round. His face was somewhat long and drawn, his forehead
small and smooth, with medium eyes, black and clear. His hair was
dark, his eyebrows were straight, and his nose even and thin; his
ears small and upright, and his temples smooth. His tongue was peaceable;
fiery and sharp. His voice was powerful, but pleasing clear and
musical. His teeth were white, well set and even; his lips were
small and thin; his beard black and sparse; his neck was slender,
his shoulders straight; his arms were short, his hands slight, his
fingers long and his nails tapered. He had thin legs, small feet,
fine skin and little flesh. his clothing was rough, his sleep short,
his hand generous."
Now, lay all this aside and look at this picture as if it were a "moon
reflection I look into the gentle, humble, rather ordinary eyes of Francis.
He looks back. He can only see me now in God's eyes. Where he lives,
the Lamb is the light of the city. His look is welcoming, it includes
me in.
I take a step nearer. I gaze. I see that he is inviting me to observe
the wound in his side that he hid so devotedly while on earth. I look
at the nails in his hands and feet - formed, not of the metal of human
rejection like Christ's, but of his own flesh. I consider. I take a
step nearer. I reflect on my own life. I, too, expose my wounds to God
that they may be healed and transformed. I reflect on the life of Jesus
and I see his glorious wounds irradiating heaven. I contemplate. I take
a step nearer and it takes me through the picture into the reality.
I am inside the picture, inside the suffering and glorious wounds, and
I am gazing out through the eyes of Francis that are is eyes. I see
the whole of creation through his eyes, one with his mind. I see it
in love, awe and reverence. I see myself, now, objectively, with the
same love, awe and reverence. I am drawn into the love of the Father
by the joy of the Holy Spirit, even as I am part of the Body of Christ.
... I pray the Lord's Prayer, slowly.
Our Father
who art in heaven,
hallowed be thy name,
thy kingdom come,
thy will be done
on earth
as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread
and forgive us our trespasses
as we forgive those who trespass against us
and lead us not into temptation
but deliver us from evil.
Then I lift up my heart
to God with the words of the Didache which come after the Our
Father, at Mass:
For the kingdom,
the power
and the glory are yours,
now and for ever
Amen.
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