Readers, what follows is part of a post I included in my Substack newsletter, Rod Dreher’s Diary, yesterday. Subscribe here for twice-weekly discussions of culture, religion, art, and my ongoing book project about the re-enchantment of the world. No culture war, no politics, no bad news in the Diary! I have left the icon images at the same size as they appear in my newsletter — perhaps a bit ungainly for a blog post, but I thought you would find the imagery rich. — RD

This icon of the Transfiguration is from the hand of Ukrainian iconographer Ivanka Demchuk. Here is a link to her Etsy page. Take a look at her astonishing work there, where you can buy it, or if you just want to look, here, on her website portfolio page. I ordered this, not only because it is strikingly beautiful, but also because I want to support a Ukrainian artist in this grievous time. Yet Etsy warns that because of the war, it could take her longer to ship them. I reached out to her via Etsy to ask about this. She lives in Lviv, and tells me that all the country’s post offices are closed right now, but she encouraged me to order anyway, and she will ship them as soon as it is possible. I’m going to write about her and her work on my blog on Monday, so if you want to order anything from her, get your orders in now before I post big.

I cannot stop looking at them. This young woman, born in 1990 and an Eastern Rite Catholic, is an amazing talent.

Here is her Mother of Mercy:

It’s as if Mary has absorbed all the pain in the world, symbolized by red, which in traditional iconography is used to convey blood, fire, and passion. She seems to be absorbing it into herself to prevent it from staining the white tunics of the righteous below. Within her is her Son, presented here in the Pantokrator (The Ruler Of The Cosmos) depiction. This image might be saying that she can be the Mother of Mercy because she is the Mother of Christ, who is Mercy itself. She chose to share the pre-eminent role in His passion, through which mercy radiates upon the world.

Here is Ivanka Demchuk’s version of The Annunciation:

I ordered this one too tonight. It speaks to me profoundly, because it reveals what I am trying to do with this book project. Notice the Virgin, sitting inside grey granite walls, expectantly. She hears someone coming from the other side of the wall — from the realm of light and, it seems, fields of wheat. At her foot, the Virgin has a fig sapling — a symbol of Israel, whose Messiah she carries in her womb, unawares. On the windowsill sits a pomegranate, a symbol of fertility and of resurrection: the babe she carries in her womb will be the portal through which humanity will find eternal life, and enter into the realm of harvest abundance. The pillows on the couch bring to mind the coat of many colors of Joseph, son of Jacob, who was sold into slavery by his brothers, but later exalted, and showed the mercy. He is considered by Christians to be a prefigurement of Christ.

Notice how delicate the Archangel Gabriel’s fingers are, hovering above the granite. All it would take is the lightest touch, and the walls would come tumbling down. The tension in the painting is remarkable. Perhaps Gabriel looks a bit sad because he knows that the glad message he carries, symbolized by the lily, will also bring sorrow one day to the Virgin. But for Mary, she is taut with expectation, sensing the presence of the numinous about to make itself manifest. The thick walls have becoming paper thin in this holy moment.

What is she reading, do you think? We know from Scripture (Luke 1: 46-55) what she will say when Gabriel announces the news:

My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord,
my spirit rejoices in God my Savior
for he has looked with favor on his lowly servant.
From this day all generations will call me blessed:
the Almighty has done great things for me,
and holy is his Name.

He has mercy on those who fear him
in every generation.
He has shown the strength of his arm,
he has scattered the proud in their conceit.

He has cast down the mighty from their thrones,
and has lifted up the lowly.
He has filled the hungry with good things,
and the rich he has sent away empty.

He has come to the help of his servant Israel
for he remembered his promise of mercy,
the promise he made to our fathers,
to Abraham and his children forever.

It’s as if time past and time future is all concentrated in that single moment. Mary’s eyes are open, as is her heart, to receive the God she will bear.

What can Ivanka Demchuk’s art teach us about how to open our eyes and our hearts to God? I’ve asked her for an interview, though heaven knows we can wait until after her country is no longer under Russian attack.