I have been trying to write about icons since attending Betsey Malloy’s retreat at Corhaven on Praying With Icons (June 2, 2013). I own a handful of icons. They look nice. But, pray with them? Afterward, I agreed to write a reflection and it would “not write.”
A month later I attended Camp Ottari on the Blue Ridge Scout Reservation in Southwest Virginia. It rained the entire week from Sunday to Friday afternoon. I spent one night on vigil together with another Scout leader and both of our sons who were our assistant leaders for this camp. Our campsite was at the bottom of a canyon alongside a creek. We were monitoring the swollen creek and the torrential, record rainfall and its potential for flooding. The other leader’s son later told me that in the deep part of the night, after checking on his Scouts yet again, his father (who is not an emotional man) started to cry. His son, quite concerned, asked him what was wrong. For a while, he couldn’t speak, and then he said that nothing was wrong. When his son pressed him, he responded that they were tears of joy because he had been touched by God in the situation and was experiencing the deep joy of loving others. What is wrong? Nothing … the joy of knowing God at work. The tears started again as the story was retold to me. All Scouts (30+) survived safely and relatively dry.
The following day, while in the camp office, I noticed that it was named the Al Croy Welcome Center and had a picture and plaque on the wall dedicated to Mr. Croy. I spent a long time with that picture. Mr. Croy was my Scout leader who led our crew at Philmont Scout Ranch in 1973. He taught me to backpack, set a pace, hang a bear bag, and reach a goal: we climbed both Baldy Mountain and the Tooth of Time. We cooked on open fires. It was an awesome experience. We reunited 31 years later when he came to my father’s funeral. I am not aware of any connection between Mr. Croy and my father other than me. I was deeply touched. So, as I looked at his picture my mind went back to my experiences with him. And then I began to understand about icons.
Icons are meant to help us enter into a deeper life with Jesus Christ by contemplating the life or event pictured. “Writing” an icon is quite a process. The iconographer must be certified and have completed theological training. He or she must have an understanding of the theological significance of the person or event and must be inspired by the Holy Spirit to present the image in this form. The medium on which the icon is to be displayed must be painstakingly prepared and first painted into a dark color. The image is drawn and then the fine work begins. There are many cycles of painting and drying and rubbing. Various colors have theological significance. Rubbing is used to lighten an area. The final product has both dark and light areas and a variety of colors. It tells a story and a truth.
In reflecting on icons since my summer camp experience, I have come to see that we are created in the image of God (Genesis 1:27). The Son is the image of the invisible God (Col. 1:15). We are to bear the image of the heavenly man (1 Cor. 15:49), and as we contemplate the Lord’s glory we are being transformed into His image with ever-increasing glory (2 Cor. 3:18). As we grow in Christ, we have taken off the old self and put on the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge in the image of its Creator (Col. 3:10).
My life is an icon in the process of being painted. My experiences shape and form me. The light within shines only as the old self is rubbed away and I am being renewed into glory. My Lord is the iconographer.