A window into eternity
Why I've put this on my wall
My wife came back from London carrying a large parcel. Excitingly, inside was this icon which I have hung on our living room wall. Her sister gave it to her and we think it was formerly in my late father-in-law’s study in north-west London. Nobody is quite certain of how it came into the family or when.
This is a copy, not an original, but still has plenty of interest for me. To begin with, it is quite large and my eye keeps wandering to it during television programmes. According to the British Museum, it is the Madre della Consolazione, which translates as “the mother of consolation”. Mary offers comfort to those who are in pain. Apparently, this devotion was especially important within the Augustinian Order. They associate this title with the sash on their habits. A tradition within the Order tells of Saint Monica, mother of Saint Augustine, receiving a sash from Mary as a symbol of consolation and protection during a period of distress over her son's actions.
The icon originates in Crete. The Christ blesses with his right hand and is grasping with his left an open scroll with a passage from the Gospel of St Luke 4:18 in black capital letters (in Greek) reading, “the spirit of the Lord is upon me because he has anointed me”. The original icon was probably painted around 1490. One of the originals is in the British museum. The painter is probably Nikolaos Tzafouris (1487–1501), a well-known Cretan living and working in Candia (modern Herakleion), then the capital city of Venetian Crete.
I have never been that enamoured by Madonna and Child pictures, finding them a little twee and lacking emotion. Large babies, not very lifelike, so popular in western art, are not that charming or deserving of reverence. However, when presented in icon format, the figures take on a more timeless quality. Yes, the baby still looks like a ventriloquist dummy because that was probably the best they could do at the time.
I know that the figures in icons are not supposed to be likenesses of the human form. Instead, they are representations of figures reflected back to us from eternity. So, we get a strangeness, an un-human portrayal of Mary, the mother of God, and the Christ-child who is blessing us. The golden background is eternity, to which we are all called. The mysterious figures face us from that eternity, almost beckoning us in, re-assuring us that, yes, everything is going to be fine. Even in the depths of your suffering, there is consolation to be found. We know from our experiences that this consolation may be either this side or (perhaps more likely) the other side of the door which guides us into eternity.
Nevertheless, we are invited into this scene, which speaks to us from all ages and for all ages. Much to think about.