Windows Into Heaven

A Reflection on the Second Reading for Sunday, July 30th, 2023:
Seventeenth Sunday of Ordinary Time

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Romans
8.28-30

​Brothers and sisters: We know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose.

For those whom God foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, in order that he might be the firstborn among many brothers and sisters.

And those whom God predestined he also called; and those whom he called he also justified; and those whom he justified he also glorified.

Pause. Pray. Reflect.

When I was in my first year of faith formation, at a school in the prairies, a Ukrainian Catholic priest visited my class and introduced us to the Eastern Catholic churches. The Roman Rite was all that I knew, so I was intrigued when I learned that (long after their initial separation) several Orthodox churches in the East re-entered communion with the West while maintaining many of their unique expressions and traditions that had developed over centuries. 

The priest shared his knowledge of iconography, the sacred art of making religious icons. Traditionally icons are “written” (or painted) with natural materials and each step of the process is rich with symbolism; in modern times many icons are printed. Whatever method is used, each one ought to be a true likeness and near-perfect reproduction of the original. Most religious icons are of Jesus, a saint, or a scene in Scripture, and they have a distinct style that differs from western art.

We were taught that, in the eastern tradition, an icon is “a window into heaven.” Spiritual realities, and the mysteries of our faith, are hidden or “veiled”; icons are tools for prayer and can help lift the veil between heaven and Earth by helping us see the face of God. Any person depicted in an icon will (intentionally) bear a close resemblance to the face of Jesus; these holy men and women are examples of people who have been conformed to the image of Christ, and so when we look at their faces we see His face. 

I learned that this resemblance is meant to extend beyond the icon in a different way when I was led through my first  icon writing retreat. We wrote the icon of “The Good Shepherd” during Holy Week, and as I followed the slow, sometimes tedious, steps and prayerfully completed my icon I came to learn how the process was a small representation (a microcosm) of the spiritual life. We sanded wood, stretched canvas overtop, secured it with glue, etched our intended image, and for hours and hours we painted with egg tempera. Each stroke of the paint brush appeared to do nothing, because the pigment was incredibly faint against a dark background; it seemed as if we were painting with water. But with several dozen strokes, we slowly saw the fruit of our labour and vibrant colours came forth. 

“Isn’t this exactly what prayer is like?”, the priest noted. “With patience and perseverance, God slowly makes us more and more into His image and likeness.”

Iconography became, for me, a beautiful representation of life, and I grew in love and appreciation for the process of sanctification. It may hurt as God sands our rough edges. There are times where we are caught in chaos and cannot see what He is making of us, but there are also times where we can joyfully recognize God’s hand and work with Him, as He makes us into little icons – windows through which others can see His face. 




​Kendra L.

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