Russia: "the scowl that melts into a smile . . ."

Pereslavl (2011)

Max Presnyakov
Wikipedia

Celestine Bohlen, writing "Driving Russia's Revived Golden Ring" for the NYT (August 31, 2012), captures a lovely image in an exquisite phrase:

Virtually all of the Orthodox Christian monasteries in Pereslavl are in various states of renovation. One, the Goritsky, which looks like something from a Russian fairy tale, is the home of the local museum, which was closed. We stopped at two others, which are once again functioning as convents. At the 14th-century Fyodorovsky Monastery, we followed a group of black-clad nuns, one on her cellphone, walking briskly toward the main church. There, after donning aprons made available for female visitors wearing pants (we brought along our own head scarves, an essential item in Russia), we had our first encounter with a familiar Russian facial expression: the scowl that melts into a smile.

We had approached the nun behind the candle counter and asked for the name of the church. "And you," she snarled, "who are you?" We explained that we were tourists interested in the wonderful restoration, and her face instantly lighted up. Suddenly Sister Natalya was eager to tell stories about the miracles wrought by the church's breathing icon -- a Byzantine-style portrait of the Virgin Mary, whose face peers from behind a fine wrought silver oklad, the classic protective covering put on Russian icons. (Actually, it was a copy, she confided to us, with the sincerity of someone who truly believed what she was about to tell us: The original had been painted during the Virgin's lifetime by St. Luke, and was stolen in the 1980s.)

This kind of encounter happened again and again. Russians like to tell stories; whether they are true or not is unimportant.

I love that phrase, "the scowl that melts into a smile"! All of Russian literature, culture, and history is captured in these few lapidary words!

That says it all . . .

Images of Muhammad: Revisited

Muhammad Preaching

(Image from Wikipedia)

Four years ago, I responded to the controversy over the Muhammad cartoons in the Jyllands-Posten newspaper by writing a number of blog posts on Muslim depictions of Muhammad, such as a post accompanied by the above depiction, a 17th century Ottoman copy of an early 14th century Persian illustration, from an illustrated manuscript of Al-Biruni's 11th century text, Vestiges of the Past, showing Muhammad in a mosque preaching against intercalation (cf. Sura 9.37). My reason for posting the image above was to demonstrate that despite Muslim assertions that Islam forbids any depiction of the Prophet Muhammad, we nevertheless find such depictions within the Islamic world itself.

At the post that I've linked to, I received then a number of comments, all from non-Muslims, it seems, but I've recently received an "Anonymous" comment from an individual whom I take to be a Muslim, given the particular sentiment espoused. It states:

god will break your hand

That's an unpleasant comment, though hardly surprising, given the fanaticism of some people. I replied:

Anonymous, thanks for your comment, which perfectly illustrates your attitude toward discussion, I presume.

You have expressed your violent opinion and now take refuge in your anonymity.

I receive the occasional courageous comment of this sort. Some brave soul feels offended enough to anonymously threaten me with dire consequences, wished personally upon me but attributed to God's intentions. This "Anonymous" commenter -- known only to God, it seems -- would like to break my hand . . . or worse, no doubt, since the basic offense is not in my hand but in my head.

I may yet end up like Trotsky, but if so, it'll be at the hands of one whose God has failed to carry out the deed Himself.

Alexander Boguslawski: "Theotokos of Kazan" and "Blessed Silence"

Theotokos of Kazan

Alexander Boguslawski

(Image provided by Alexander Boguslawski)

My wife showed me how to transfer images stored on my computer to Photobucket, which I referred to yesterday, so I can now reveal the above icon by Alexander Boguslawski as well as seven more more icons of Christ the Blessed Silence.

Actually, Boguslawski calls his icon the "Mother of God of Kazan," but "Theotokos" means "God-Bearer" in Greek and is less literally 'translated' as "Mother of God" in English. The expressions are used in Orthodox and Catholic Christianity to refer to the Virgin Mary but aren't intended to imply that Mary herself was divine, simply to emphasize her role as Christ's mother. Perhaps Professor Boguslawski himself could say more on this if he happens to visit here and has time for commenting.

There exists, by the way, an original "Theotokos of Kazan," which I've provided below for ease of comparison:

Theotokos of Kazan

Russia, 16th Century

(Image from Wikipedia)

Boguslawski has subtly altered the direction in which the eyes of the Virgin and the Infant are focused. The Virgin in the original icon looks directly at us, and her head is slightly less inclined. Boguslawski's Virgin, her head more bowed and her face so serious, seems lost in contemplation, as if reflecting down upon the earthly pain to come, but her uplifted eyes suggest a reliance upon God. By having the head bowed and the eyes raised, she gives the impression of looking both down and up simultaneously. Interestingly, Boguslawski has made the Infant more youthful but also, like the Virgin, so very serious, whereas the original Infant seems to have the hint of a smile despite being depicted as aged beyond his infancy. In neither icon does the Infant look at us. In the original, he appears to gaze upward, but Boguslawski's has him gazing downward, perhaps reflecting upon his earthly mission ahead. But these are my subjective impressions, for I lack any expertise on these works of sacred art.

Below are the images of the seven icons showing Christ the Blessed Silence that Professor Boguslawski fowarded from the art expert and dealer Richard Temple to me, including the two icons with the seraphim depicted in a manner similar to the depiction of the seraph in the icon posted yesterday (and also prior to that). Since these seven were not identified, I cannot provide any further information as to their origins, but we can still appreciate their beauty:

Christ the Blessed Silence

(Image provided by Richard Temple)

Christ the Blessed Silence

(Image provided by Richard Temple)

Christ the Blessed Silence

(Image provided by Richard Temple)

Christ the Blessed Silence

(Image provided by Richard Temple)

Christ the Blessed Silence

(Image provided by Richard Temple)

Next come the two icons with the seraphim depicted: first with the blue ones and then with the red ones:

Christ the Blessed Silence

Depicted with Blue Seraphim

(Image provided by Richard Temple)

Christ the Blessed Silence

Depicted with Red Seraphim

(Image provided by Richard Temple)

And for our convenience, a detail of the traditional, red seraphim:

Detail of Christ the Blessed Silence

The Three Red Seraphim

(Image provided by Richard Temple)

So, here they are in all their glory. Icons, I might add, are believed by the devout to be windows into the sacred realm, so one is not simply staring at a religious object, one is gazing into paradise itself, even if the specific image depicts an earthly scene from the life of Christ or some saint. Thus, they really are depicted here in all their glory. Or possibly not . . . for I've only provided images of the originals. A sort of borrowed heaven.

And that's about all that I can show or say on this topic of the 'winged' Christ in Christian art.

UPDATE: Alexander Boguslawski has informed me: "As far as the Blessed Silence icons are concerned, only four of them came from Richard Temple's Gallery; the rest were collected over the Internet." However, since I don't know which are from where, I'll leave the identification as is (until I should happen to find the online sources).

Alexander Boguslawski: More on Seraph in Bosom of "Christ the Blessed Silence"

Christ the Blessed Silence

Russian, circa 1700 (30.7 x 27 cm)

(Image from The Temple Gallery)

Christ the Blessed Silence

Detail with Seraph

(Image from The Temple Gallery)

In my Thursday post providing Alexander Boguslawski's fascinating and useful, detailed information about this Russian icon showing a seraph nestled in the bosom of Christ the Blessed Silence, I closed with these words:

Perhaps some reader who knows the explanation to this puzzling image of the the seraph in Christ's bosom will take the time to lead us through the labyrinth to the answer.

Well, a reader did step forth with more information, none other than, once again, Professor Boguslawski himself, who provided "Some news on the Blessed Silence":

I contacted Richard Temple (an old friend) and discovered from his reply that he had on his site two other icons featuring seraphim (or cherubim). I am attaching a series of pictures for you, as well as Temple's commentary on those icons. He has no idea why the iconography changed or allowed these variations (there are, for instance, blue cherubim in one of the icons).

I'd like to post those images that Boguslawski sent, but I couldn't locate them at The Temple Gallery, and I don't yet know how to copy them from my computer onto my site at Photobucket, the online service that I use to store the images that I post here on my blog. If I figure that out, I'll post them, for the two mentioned by Boguslawski differ from the icon above in that they each show three seraphim -- one in the center and two on each side.

Meanwhile, here's what Richard Temple has written:

BLESSED SILENCE. ("Blagoe Molchanie")

Christ depicted as an angel is based on Isaiah 9:5 who refers to "The Messenger ("Angelos") of Great Counsel". He is the "Word in Eternity" and, according to Coomber in The Icon Handbook, (Springfield Illinois, 1995), the iconography is "associated with the Creation and the Plan of Salvation, ordained from Eternity".

Other references from Isaiah are relevant: 42:2 "He shall not...cause his voice to be heard in the streets"; 53:7 "He was afflicted yet opened not his mouth...as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he opens not his mouth".

Two four pointed stars, one superimposed on the other, are seen within Christ's halo; their eight points are said to symbolize Eternity and the whole of Creation. (The Octave is the symbol of completion).

Christ is clothed as a bishop (cf Hebrews 4:14 "...we have a great high priest that is passed into the heavens, Jesus Christ, Son of God...". Seraphim, six-winged, bodiless and traditionally red, adorn the upper part of his chest and arms. The Seraphim, according to Dionysius the Areopagite, are the highest order of Angels and stand at the entrance into Paradise. Below Christ's navel is a Cherub, also bodiless and regarded as second in the angelic order. Christ holds the traditional Russian eight pointed cross and an inscribed scroll: "Come unto me all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest" (Matthew 11:28).

The subject was introduced into the iconographical canon in Russia in the 16th century. At that time Moscow, which had recently declared itself the Third Rome, was a milieu of intense theological and iconographical activity. (See N.P. Kondakov, The Russian Icon, OUP 1928, Chapter Mystical and Didactic Subjects).

I'm not sure which of the three images depicting a seraph in the bosom of Christ that Temple is referring to, for I don't see the cherub above Christ's navel, but given this information and the two additional images, Boguslawski has concluded:

Therefore, my statement that the icon was "absolutely unique" needs to be changed to "unusual." My explanation that it indicates the closeness of the heavenly forces to Christ still holds... Well, and now we have a nice collection of images...

And we may soon have one more, for Boguslawski tells me:

I am even tempted to paint my own icon of the Blessed Silence, since I am a modern day iconographer (see an example of one of my works -- the recently finished Mother of God of Kazan).

Again, I would like to provide that Theotokian image, but it is stubbornly stuck on my computer rather than 'unstuck' on Photobucket. You can, however, visit Boguslawski's own website for exhibiting his art, including several of his icons, but I don't see his "Mother of God of Kazan" included.

In his closing remarks, Boguslawski added some kind words:

And one more comment -- I love your blog! What a relief to find a literate person!

To this, I replied:

I'm glad that you like my blog. I don't know that I'm really so literate, but I do have a lot of interests -- mostly of things that I can't so easily comprehend, but a man's reach must exceed his grasp, else what's a heaven for?

I wish that I had even a modicum of your linguistic and artistic talent . . . and your other talents as well. Perhaps mine is a talent for blogging. But like the winged Christ with seraph, I am not unique. I've found a host of intelligent, literate bloggers. My own blog might be unusual for the range of things that I post on. Just today, I blogged about my Ozark home...

But I'll leave the degree to which my blog is 'unusual' to the judgement of my peers, those who peer here.

Alexander Boguslawski: Seraph in Bosom of "Christ the Blessed Silence"

Detail, Christ the Blessed Silence

Russian, circa 1700 (30.7 x 27 cm)

(Image from The Temple Gallery)

Two blog-days ago, I posted the entire icon of which the above image is a detail, and for ease of comparison, here is the full icon, albeit much reduced in size:


As previously noted, Brandon Watson (who blogs at Siris) drew my attention to this Russian Orthodox icon some days ago when I was blogging about various depictions of Christ as a winged figure in Western art.

I noticed that the icon depicted a seraph held in the bosom of Christ, and in my response to Brandon, I called his attention to the seraph and wondered if it were an allusion to the story of St. Francis receiving the stigmata from a six-winged 'Christ' in that puzzling vision, where Christ, a seraph, and the soul of St. Francis appear to coincide in identity -- a baffling vision to which I devoted several blog entries.

Brandon doubted an allusion to St. Francis, and I myself had thought the possibility remote but wanted at least to air it.

Just to be certain that this was not such an allusion to St. Francis, and also to learn more about the icon, I emailed an expert, Professor Alexander Boguslawski, who had noticed (and commented on) an earlier post of mine on Andrei Rublev's icon of The Old Testament Trinity, for I had cited Boguslawski's analysis of that icon in my blog entry.

Before sending the email to Professor Boguslawski, I posted my query in a reply to the comment that he had posted on Rublev's icon:

By the way, if you have time, perhaps you could explain this icon showing a winged Christ the Blessed Silence with what appears to be a seraph in his bosom.

When I saw this, I wondered if there were some allusion to the winged 'Christ' of St. Francis's vision when he received the stigmata, for 'Christ' took the form of a seraph there (though such a Catholic allusion would be unexpected in an Orthodox painting).

I then sent Professor Boguslawski the mentioned email, just to make sure that he was aware of my query:

Greetings from Jeffery Hodges (aka Gypsy Scholar). I was pleased to hear from you in the comment to my blog post on Rublev. I left a reply there, and also a query, directing you to my most-recent blog entry. I'm curious about the six-winged seraph in the bosom of a winged Christ (in the form of the Blessed Silence). What does the seraph signify? If you take a look at the blog entry (and some of its links), you'll understand my query.

Here is his reply, which he posted as a comment to my blog entry of two days ago on this seraph in Christ's bosom:

I can answer some of the questions you posed, but, unfortunately, not all... The seraphim is definitely not an allusion to St. Francis, even though St. Francis did have a vision of a seraphim! The icon from the Temple Gallery seems to be absolutely unique; I looked through my extensive book collection and through the Russian Orthodox sites and found not even one similar icon of the Holy Silence. On all icons, the angelic figure is shown with hands crossed at the bosom. So why the seraphim at this particular icon? The only possible explanation I can think of would be that the author of this icon wanted to stress the closeness of the seraphim to God.

The God-loving six-winged SERAPHIM stand closer than all before their Creator and Maker, as the prophet Isaiah saw, saying: "And the seraphim stood around Him, each having six wings" (Isaiah 6:2). They are fire-like since they stand before That One of Whom it is written: "For our God is a consuming fire." (Heb. 12:29); "His throne was a flame of fire" (Dan 7:9); "the appearance of the Lord was like a blazing fire" (Ex. 24:17). Standing before such glory, the seraphim are fire-like, as it said: "Who maketh his angels spirits; his ministers a flaming fire" (Ps. 103:4). They are aflame with love for God and kindle others to such love, as I shown by their very name, for "seraphim" in the Hebrew language means: "flaming".

Icons of Holy Silence (Blessed Silence) were most popular among the Old Believers, but they, as dedicated traditionalists, would not accept any significant change in iconography. Therefore, the question why the seraphim was included in this icon remains unanswered... I wonder whether Richard Temple realized what kind of a unique work he had in his gallery.

I hope all this helps. Looking forward to finding more about this and other icons.

That the icon was "absolutely unique" thrilled me -- in an intellectual way -- and I replied:

[T]hank you for your reply to my query about the seraph in this icon.

I looked more closely at the icon at Richard Temple's website, and since the site allows close-ups of details, I was able to see the seraph more clearly. Although the figure is clearly a seraph, given the six wings, it seems to have no body and looks more like an image of the sun -- which would connect to the Hebrew meaning of "seraph" as "flaming."

This looks like a topic for an article, but I lack the expertise in icons. Perhaps you will write something?

Meanwhile, I'll post your comment as a blog entry, for this is informative stuff.

And today's is that 'promised' blog entry. Perhaps some reader who knows the explanation to this puzzling image of the the seraph in Christ's bosom will take the time to lead us through the labyrinth to the answer.

UPDATE: Concerning the seraph's lack of a body, Professor Boguslawski informs me that "In Russian tradition, seraphim are always represented this way (they can be larger in size)," so my speculation about a possible resemblence to the "sun" is perhaps way off target.

Icon of Winged Christ the Blessed Silence with a Seraph in His Bosom

Christ the Blessed Silence

Russian, circa 1700 (30.7 x 27 cm)

(Image from The Temple Gallery)

I am inspired this morning to make some brief remarks on this icon to which Brandon Watson (who blogs at Siris) drew my attention some days ago when I was blogging about various depictions of Christ as a winged figure.

Especially intriguing for me in the above icon is the seraph held in the bosom of Christ. In response to Brandon, I wondered if the seraph were an allusion to the story of St. Francis receiving the stigmata from a six-winged 'Christ' in a baffling vision in which Christ, a seraph, and the soul of St. Francis all three appear identical. Readers will recall that I devoted several blog entries to this puzzling vision.

But perhaps the icon above is presenting the Holy Spirit as emanating from the bosom of the Son -- except that I've never heard of the Spirit being depicted as a seraph. A dove, yes; but a seraph, no . . . which may suggest nothing other than my ignorance.

I'm hoping that Alexander Boguslawski, professor of Russian Studies at Rollins College might have some illuminating remarks on this icon, for he noticed that I had quoted his remarks on the depiction of a winged Christ in Rublev's famous icon presenting the Old Testament Trinity, so he posted an interesting comment on that particular blog entry.

But we'll just have to wait on that.

Meanwhile, here's a modern-day icon, a beautiful, angelic Sophie revealing words about her role in creation -- and one can also find this same Sophie linked to Milton's Paradise Lost.

Pre-Rublev: Winged Trinity

The Hospitality of Abraham

(Old Testament Trinity)
Mid-14th century
168 × 144 cm
The Assumption Cathedral of the Moscow Kremlin

(Image from icon-art.info/masterpiece)

Yesterday, we looked at Andrei Rublev's masterpiece, and I've found some more material on that, but I wanted to post this image, which dates to a century or so before Rublev's own icon, to show the tradition within which he was working and from which he departed somewhat.

Notable is the presence of Abraham and Sarah, as well as of a young servant (or might it be Ishmael?) slaughtering the calf for the meal, for precisely in ignoring these other three figures lay part of Rublev's innovation. The other part of his innovation lay in removing Christological symbols from the central figure.

Why did Rublev innovate in this way? According to Alexander Boguslawski, an expert on Russian art:

Very few artists before Rublev dared to eliminate all the narrative elements from the story, leaving only the three angels; usually those who did so had to deal with limited space. The results of their efforts did not find general acceptance or many copyists. Rublev was the first to make a conscious decision not to include in his composition the figures of Abraham and Sarah because he did not set out to illustrate the story of the hospitality of Abraham, as did many painters before him, but to convey through his image the idea of the unity and indivisibility of the three persons of the Trinity.

The doctrine of the Trinity, difficult to explain logically, found various interpretations. Some thought that the Trinity consisted of God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit. Others believed that it was just God and two angels. In the 14th and 15th-century Russia, in the period of many heretical movements, the idea of the Trinity was often questioned. The heretics in Novgorod claimed that it is not permissible to paint the Trinity on icons because Abraham did not see the Trinity but only God and two angels. Other heretics rejected the idea of the three hypostases of God altogether. The church fought the heresies with all the means it had -- usually with polemical treaties, but also with force, if necessary. Russian icon painters before Rublev subscribed to the same point of view that Abraham was visited by God (in Christ's image) and two angels. Hence, Christ was represented in icons of the Trinity as the middle angel and was symbolically set apart either by a halo with a cross, by a considerable enlargement of his figure, by widely spread wings or by a scroll in His hand.

In the pre-Rublev image above, the middle figure would seem to be portrayed in the image of Christ, for he is giving the Orthodox sign of the cross, so I assume that the unknown artist interpreted the story as one in which "Abraham was visited by God (in Christ's image) and two angels." Compare this to Rublev's icon:

Andrei Rublev, Hospitality of Abraham

The Old Testament Trinity

(Image from Wikipedia)

Alexander Boguslawski notes some interesting ambiguities in Rublev's painting:

All scholars agree that the three hypostases of the Trinity are represented in Rublev's icon. But there are greatly differing views as to which angel represents which hypostasis. Many see Christ in the middle angel and God the Father in the left. Others see God the Father in the middle angel, and Christ in the left one. The middle angel occupies a special place in the icon: it is set apart not only by its central position, but also by a "regal" turn of its head towards the left angel, and by pointing with its hand towards the cup on the table. Both the turn of the head and the gesture are important clues to the hidden meaning of the icon. Equal among equals, the middle angel has such expressive power that one hesitates not to see in it a symbolic representation of God the Father. On the other hand one cannot fail to notice that the left angel is also essential: two other angels lower their heads towards it and seem to address it. Therefore, if we assume that the left angel is God the Father, the middle angel, dressed in the clothes customarily used in compositions depicting the second person of the Trinity (a blue himation and a crimson tunic), should represent Christ. This amazing and perhaps purposeful encoding of these two persons of the Trinity by Rublev does not give us a clear clue for a single interpretation. Whatever the case, the icon shows a dialogue between two angels: The Father turns to His Son and explains the necessity of His sacrifice, and the Son answers by agreeing with His Father's wish.

In referring to the angel on the "left," Boguslawski is describing the image from our perspective. Seen from the middle figure's perspective, this angel is actually on the right, and one would expect to find the Son in that righthand position, the Father thus being the central figure, but Boguslawski has made some interesting points about ambiguity concerning the precise identification of the three figures -- which might, indeed, be the point that Rublev is trying to convey about the Trinity, that these are the three hypostases of God, not merely God and two angels.

But I leave that for your contemplation.

Meanwhile, take a look at Boguslawski's own art, for he not only comments as a scholar on Slavic art, he paints his own artwork as an artist (and something about his style recalls in some way the style of Terrance Lindall, though the latter's vision is darker).

Andrei Rublev: Winged Trinity

Andrei Rublev, Hospitality of Abraham

The Old Testament Trinity

(Image from Wikipedia)

Over at the Milton List, the scholar Paul Miller, author of the article "John Gower, Satiric Poet" (in Gower's Confessio Amantis: Responses and Reassessments (1983), edited by A.J. Minnis), has called our attention to Andrei Rublev's winged Trinity, which dates to the 1420s and hangs in the the State Tretyakov Gallery, also known as the National Museum of Russian Fine Art, which is located in Moscow.

I think that I've previously seen reproductions of this icon without ever having given it my full attention, but I now see that there's an entire tradition, at least in Russia, of presenting the Trinity with wings, as this website reveals.

As the title "Hospitality of Abraham" indicates, this tradition finds inspiration in the story related in Genesis 18 and 19 that begins by referring to "the Lord" (Yahweh, Genesis 18.1) appearing to Abraham, but quickly shifts the reference to "three men" (shloshah anashim, Genesis 18.2), and later refers to the two of the men who go forth to destroy the city of Sodom as "two of the angels" (shnei hammalachim).

The icon portrays the moment when Abraham has extended hospitality to the three 'men' by inviting them to a meal provided by him. The original story says nothing about wings, and so far as I recall, angels in the Bible are never explicitly described as winged (correct me if I'm wrong), but because Christian tradition depicts angels as having wings, then Rublev paints this 'Trinity' with wings.

Technically, this Trinity doesn't present a winged Jesus, for the 'Son' in this image would be pre-incarnational, but it might be presumed to be depicting a winged Christ, depending upon when one considers the Son to have been anointed as Messiah -- Milton, for example, puts the anointing prior to the fall of Satan and presents it as the act that precipitated Satan's rebellion.

As for Rublev, I don't know that he was the first to paint the Trinity as winged, for I don't have time to further investigate this tradition today because I've got to finish some editing and also some last minute student grading.