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I recently returned from a business trip to Kyiv (Kiev) Ukraine, including two days of just being a tourist. My tour guide was Olga, a well-informed host overflowing with love for her city and country. One of the most impressive places I visited with Olga was Kyiv Pechersk Lavra (Києво-Печерська лавра in Ukrainian and Киeво-Печерская лавра in Russian). More like a small city than just a church, it is a historical center of Eastern Orthodox Christianity and includes a magnificent cathedral, smaller (though still magnificent!) churches, an active seminary, monastery housing, and a historical underground cave monastery containing relics of saints.

Touring Lavra

In contrast to Olga’s otherwise energetically worldy and cosmopolitan manner, she turned quite sober as we toured Lavra, and it became clear to me that she felt a deep emotional connection to the church and its rituals. Her frequent pauses to ask me what I thought about the sacrifices of the ancient saints that she had just described, and the expectant gleam in her eye when she asked whether I felt anything, you know, different, during our viewing of the relics, made me chuckle inside with how similar it was to touring an LDS historic site with the missionaries.

Eastern Orthodox Icons

Eastern Orthodox Churches are practically wallpapered in images of saints. Most sacred among these iconic tributes is the iconostasis or collection of icons that form a wall near the end of the chapel, separating the main part of the chapel from the sanctuary, a sort of holy-of-holies area where the priests prepare the bread and wine.

I am not terribly well versed in Roman Catholic Saints (I know St. Francis of Assisi, and a few others), and have next to no knowledge of those specific to Orthodox churches. So by mid-day, I was used to seeing dozens of mostly indistinguishable faces.

My Icon

As we passed a display of religious icons for sale, one immediately caught my eye, and I asked Olga who it was. (Spoiler: I ended up buying it, and a photo of it is below.)

“One of the most powerful of all the icons,” Olga whispered, inhaling in reverence. She seemed moved by the significance of the fact that a bumbling tourist would pluck this special one out of all the many choices. This wasn’t an obscure Orthodox saint, she said, but Mary, the Mother of Jesus. “The swords represent that she will protect your home from any who would enter to harm you or your family.” A new title for Mary: the Protectress.

It won’t surprise anyone who knows me that I absolutely loved this characterization of Mary. Not the passive vessel of a male Godliness, but a virtual ninja, ready to unleash the power of her superlative Motherhood, in the mother-bear sense, on any evil-doers who dare threaten the cubs. Olga went on to explain that the seven swords represent the seven days of the week, emphasizing the completeness of the coverage this icon provides. Yes, that’s right, she will fight people any. day. of. the. week.

SOLD.

I’ve never before found iconography to be particularly spiritually resonant, but I have to confess I was, and am, sincerely captivated by my icon and I consider it a sacred object. When I got back to the hotel, I lovingly wrapped it and packed it in my suitcase, but not before taking a photo and posting it to Facebook, along with Olga’s explanation.

Roman Catholic Images of Mary

Quickly, some Catholic friends on Facebook started expressing mild skepticism. Those swords aren’t weapons she wields, they said. Those are the seven sorrows of Maria Dolorosa (Our Lady of Sorrows), representing the seven ways we see the fulfillment of Simeon’s prophecy to Mary when she presented him the infant Jesus, “Yea, a sword shall pierce through thy own soul also.” (Luke 2:35)

It’s true, I was familiar with iconic Roman Catholic images of Mary’s sorrow in the form of a sword (or seven) piercing her heart. If you’ve seen Catholic schools or churches named “Immaculate Heart” or “Sacred Heart,” they are referring to Mary and these images of her. Here are some typical examples:

Sacred Heart of Mary Our Lady of Sorrows

So, was Olga just wrong? The question nagged at me. And yet, there were significant differences in the depictions. Although not all Catholic versions show an explicit heart, the fact that Mary and/or her heart is being pierced is usually unmistakable. And although it’s admittedly a little odd that someone would hold swords by the sharp part (!), if they are piercing into her in my Orthodox icon, that fact is certainly not emphasized. (I choose to read the fact that she appears to be holding them by the sharp ends like a deck of cards as another demonstration of her come at me, bro fierceness.)

More Detective Work

I asked a woman I’d met through my business work in Kyiv, who I happen to know is a devout Ukrainian/Russian Orthodox adherent (and possibly also some sort of pagan witch, but that’s another story), about my icon. She confirmed Olga’s interpretation, and even snapped a photo of the same icon in her own house, in what Olga had told me was its traditional placement over the front door.

In further online searching, I learned that there is a distinct but related Orthodox icon, Softener of Evil Hearts, which also depicts Mary with seven swords. But here the swords are grouped 3 and 3 (instead of 4 and 3), with the 7th coming up from below. In this version, she also protects the home against those who would do harm, but by using gentle persuasion to soften their hearts, not by fighting with the swords she is holding. I love this more non-violent take on the theme.

East Meets West

It seems that the actual origin this iconography in the Orthodox tradition may be essentially what my Catholic friends suspected Olga and I of doing: travelers are exposed to an unfamiliar image, someone tells a story about it that is different from the traditional party line, which then spreads and takes root because of its resonance for the people who heard it. Only this change in interpretation happened not a few weeks ago between Olga and me, but a few centuries ago in Poland. Because of Poland’s location, Western European Catholicism and Eastern Orthodox traditions have long come into contact there. Historians believe some Orthodox adherents saw the Roman Catholic Maria Dolorosa in Poland, and brought the tradition back with them into Ukraine, where it took on a new meaning. (See here and here.) In the new meaning, the sorrows are deemphasized in favor of the Protectress interpretation. There is an accompanying visual deemphasis of piercing, though for historical reasons the swords retain their (now somewhat awkward and anachronistic) positioning facing inwards. Some versions further differentiate in various ways, for example, just slightly reworking the sword hilts to be arrow fletching.

The Feminine Divine

In the end, I am grateful for the chance to spend so much time immersed in visual representations of the Feminine Divine, something that is under-emphasized in our own LDS tradition. I haven’t yet decided if my St. Mary the Protectress icon will go over my front door, or in another special location in the house. But I look forward to seeing Her frequently and being reminded of Divine love, and of my own capacities and responsibilities for the protection of those around me.