In this icon commissioned from Australian iconographer, Michael Galovic, we see Mary with the twelve apostles in the upper room sitting on a splendid chair, her feet on a small foot stool… her hands raised in ‘oramus’. She is teaching and the men are variously listening or distracted by what she is saying. These are early days in the life of the church and there is a deep sense that Mary is imparting her wisdom and understanding to the men around her.
She speaks of the resurrected one who appears in a golden arch holding his burial cloth. As witnesses to the events in the icon, we can see that the darkness of the tomb behind Jesus has no claim on him any more, he is beyond the threshold of death. But not all the apostles see what we see, some of whom are looking around as if searching for something. Only the apostles closest to our vantage point see Jesus as he now is… like the apostle with the two fingers pointing to Him, alluding to the fullness of his humanity and divinity.
Jesus is no longer the crucified one for he is dressed opulently and crowned as king. He is the epicentre of the icon. All our attention is drawn down to him… even the feet on the apostles point in his direction and Mary’s hands whilst raised in proclamation also push attention away from herself.
What might Mary be speaking of here at the centre of the early church?
She would proclaim that the ancient promise has been kept… the fight has been won and the old enemy crushed forever. And she would speak with a quiet mother’s murmur that to win the victory God has laid down his arms in her son, Jesus.
Despite what they have all witnessed, she would remind the disciples that God has not found our world with its afflictions, its violence or its wickedness uninhabitable. On the contrary, she would declare with the shinning eyed clarity of personal experience that God meets us here, just where we live. And she would also proclaim that in the contradiction of the cross of Jesus we have seen the warm, open heart of God.
By Michael Hansen