Face to Face With Heaven

Jennifer Fulwiler on icons.  Excerpts:

... It wasn't until I got to know my iconographer cousin (whom I was only reunited with after my conversion to Catholicism) that I came to appreciate icons. Before then, I thought icons were just another type of art, and since it wasn't to my taste, I had no interest in the subject. But I had completely misunderstood this sacred form of communication. The creation of icons goes back to the very first centuries of Christianity, back when many of the faithful were illiterate. It's a way of explaining theology through visual symbolism, and iconographers follow ancient prototypes with very detailed specifications when creating an icon (for example, an image search on Christ the Teacher shows how similar all the representations are). This is why iconographers fast when they are working on a project, and why icons are said to be "written" rather than "painted": Each one contains a small book's worth of information about sacred truths.

As I sat in my room and stared at Christ the Teacher, I got lost in all the messages conveyed in the image. Christ's blue cloak symbolizes his divine nature, and the crimson color of the garment underneath is to remind us of the human blood that he shed for each of us. I looked at the halo that surrounds his head and noticed the Greek letters, which express "I am Who Am," the name of God in Exodus 3:14. And yet the letters are in the shape of a cross, which hit home the shattering truth that the unfathomable "I Am" allowed himself to be subject to human torture, that he is the God who suffers with us. Jesus' fingers are bent in a blessing, and form the letters IC XC, a monogram for the name of Jesus Christ in Greek, which prompted me to mediate for a moment on the power of his holy name. My eyes drifted up to meet the eyes of Christ, represented as large and open per the format of this icon, which reminded me that at this very moment I am being seen my God himself. For a long time I let that idea sink in, just silently absorbed that feeling that someone is watching you, and wondered what my life looked like through the eyes of God.

I could go on, but you get the idea...

I don't think I could have ever understood the power of icons without moments like last night, when I was too weary to delve into my normal prayerful reading. I felt a special kinship with all my brothers and sisters in Christ throughout the ages who have not had the educational background or the free time or the resources to be able to sit down and study the Word of God in written form. What a gift icons must have been for all the people who lived before the printing press and thus couldn't afford a hand-copied Bible, or who were illiterate, or who were just too fatigued to read at the end of a long day of toil. They'd hear the Scriptures read at Mass, and then could go home to their icons and savor those same truths, spelled out in simple visual form that even the most uneducated, tired person could understand...