SCENES FROM THE HAGIOGRAPHY OF SERGIY OF RADONEZH

I have written in previous postings about the noted Russian saint Sergiy (Sergei) of Radonezh, a prominent “national” saint in Russia:

SERGIY AND SCENES

Today we will look at two icons relating incidents from the hagiographic tale of his life.  They are both Old Believer icons from around the end of the 18th century.

Here is the first.  It depicts a cutaway view of a church.  Inside the Church, the liturgy is under way:

In the right foreground, we see a woman and a man — each with a halo to show they are saints — listening attentively. They are Mariya and Kyrill, the parents of Sergiy of Radonezh, who as a boy was originally named Bartholomew (Варфоломей/Barfolomey).  But where is Sergiy himself in the icon?  Well, he is in his mother Mariya’s womb. 

The icon illustrates the story — related by Epiphaniy/Epiphanius the Wise — that Sergiy’s mother told a mysterious monk about an event that happened while Mariya was still pregnant.  Supposedly when the parents were attending the liturgy before Sergiy’s birth, the boy cried out from the womb three times during the rite.  Traditionally these three times were before the reading of the Gospel, during the “Cherubic Hymn,” and finally when the priest said “Святая святым/Svyataya svyatuim” — “Holy things to the holy.”

This crying out of the unborn child during the liturgy was understood by the parents to signify some unusual and extraordinary destiny for their child — who of course grew up to become one of Russia’s most famous saints.

The inscription on the icon reads:
“Venerable Sergiy in the Womb of the Mother during the Liturgy Cries Out Thrice.”

In the second icon, we see a man at left bringing his dying son in his arms into Sergiy’s monastery.  Two monks look on.  Then we see the man again at right, holding his now active son before the seated Sergiy of Radonezh.  What is it all about?  Well, to know that, we must know the story.

It is said that a very pious and devout man with only one child — a son — lived in the vicinity of Sergiy’s monastery.  When his son became very ill and seemed threatened with death, the man took him in his arms and carried him to the monastery, sure that Sergiy would be able to help.  Unfortunately, while he was standing there, begging Sergiy to pray for his son, the boy died.  The father lost his last hope, and in great grief he left his dead son in Sergiy’s cell while going away to prepare for burial.  While he was gone, Sergiy prayed over the boy.

When the father came back to retrieve the body for burial, he found his boy with the saint, alive.  Overjoyed, he fell down before Sergiy, thanking him profusely for raising his son from the dead.

Sergiy, however, reproved him, saying he was deceiving himself, and that no one could raise the dead before the Day of Resurrection of all humans.  He told the father that the boy had simply become chilled with the cold, and appeared to be dead.  When he was left in the warmth of the saint’s cell, he became active again.

The man, however, was having none of it, and insisted that Sergiy’s prayers had resurrected his dead son.  Sergiy forbade him to say this, warning him that if he made the event known, he would lose his son completely.  The man promised not to tell, and returned home in great joy with his now living son.  So how do we know all this, if the man did not talk?  Well, remember the monks looking on in the icon?  Supposedly the monks with Sergiy told the news — or at least so the story goes.

So was the boy in the story dead and resurrected by Sergiy, or was he simply, as Sergiy said, so chilled by cold that the boy only appeared to be dead, and came to life when warmed in Sergiy’s cell?  Obviously the tale wants us to believe that in spite of his humble protestations, Sergiy resurrected the dead boy.  And the painter of this icon obviously wanted observers to hold that view as well, because the inscription on the icon reads:

“Venerable Sergiy Resurrects the Dead Boy.”

In Eastern Orthodox hagiography, the lives of the saints are filled with such extravagant tales.  These should not be taken as factual history, but rather as stories intended to impress the listener with the piety and sanctity and power of the saints.  Among  believers of those earlier days however, they were regarded as the “Gospel truth.”

NO GIRL, ONE GIRL, TWO GIRLS, MORE ….

A reader asked a question about an icon of the “Entry of the Mother of God into the Temple.”  The example in question depicted not only Anna and Joachim — the parents of Mary in tradition — along with their child Mary and the priest to whom she is being presented, but it also had another girl in it — and without a halo.  The question was, who is that unnamed girl?

Well, there is considerable variation in this.  In some icons no added girl is shown.  That is the type at its most basic.  In others — as in this very late and “Westernized” example — there may be only one or two additional girls.  Here one can be seen holding a candle behind Mary, with another nearby:

Some icons add even more girls, as in this example, which depicts three girls with hands crossed instead of holding candles:

And some add even more than three.  The number is not fixed.  And you will notice that in some the added girl or girls may be quite young, while in others they appear to be young women, as in this modern example:

What is their origin?  Well, they are another of those apocryphal elements so common in Eastern Orthodox iconography.  They are the maidens who, according to tradition, accompanied Mary from Nazareth to the Temple in Jerusalem.  They are found in the Protoevangelion of James, apparently written some time in the second century and mentioned in the early third by Origin, who considered it recent and “dubious.”  In short, it is pious fiction:

“And the child [Mary] was three years old, and Joachim said: Invite the daughters of the Hebrews that are undefiled, and let them take each a lamp, and let them stand with the lamps burning, that the child may not turn back, and her heart

be captivated from the temple of the Lord. And they did so until they went up into the temple of the Lord. And the priest received her, and kissed her, and blessed her, saying: The Lord has magnified your name in all generations.”

St. Theophylact, Archbishop of Bulgaria (c. 1055-1107), better known as Theophylact of Ochrid, was even more extravagant in his description:

“It was necessary that the Most Divine Maiden should enter the Temple in a manner befitting her. It would not have been suitable for the brilliant and costly pearl to be clothed in pauper’s rags; rather, royal clothing, which would serve to magnify and adorn her, was proper for the occasion.

When everything necessary had been prepared for the honorable and glorious entrance, the Virgin and those with her departed. Arriving in the city of Jerusalem after a three-day journey, Joachim and Anna proceeded to the Temple and brought into it the Living Temple of God, the three-year-old Maiden, the Most-Pure Virgin Mary. She was preceded by the choir of virgins carrying lighted candles. Saint Tarasius, Archbishop of Constantinople, wrote that Saint Anna said at that moment, “Begin the procession, O candle-bearing virgins, and go before me and the divine Maiden!”

So in iconography the “lamps” of the Protoevangelion are understood to be candles, and that is why in many icons of the “Entrance into the Temple,” Mary is accompanied by one or more girls or young women carrying lit candles (sometimes painters neglected to add the candles).

There you are.  That explains the female “extras” in this icon type.

We should note the smaller image at upper right of the Archangel Gabriel (not named on the icon) flying down to Mary.  He holds a round loaf of bread in his hand.  This follows the tradition that Mary was raised in the Temple until she was at least twelve, and Gabriel flew down and fed her there.