“Today the Virgin stands in the midst of the Church and with choirs of saints she invisibly prays to God for us” (Kontakion of the feast of The Protection of the Theotokos)
Upon entering an Orthodox church for the first time, one cannot help but notice the icons of the Mother of God and ever-virgin Mary ahead, at the left side of the Royal Doors on the icon screen, and elsewhere in the vestibule and adorning the walls of the nave. She gives a face and personality to the Church. We believers are proud of her, and we honor her first as the one who had spoken on our behalf when the heavenly Father asked her to accept the awesome challenge of being mother of His only-begotten Son. Her DNA is Christ’s. The human nature which the divine Word of God assumes is from her. For all that we glorify her.
But for us she is more. She is the ideal woman and mother. We expect both the visitor and the cradle Orthodox to reflect a bit on why she is there. If they come from outside the faith, they must consider the meaning of presenting her so prominently. That question has a simple answer. People come to church in search of purpose for their lives. They may feel lonely, alienated from society and themselves, perhaps even from God. The darkness has enveloped them, and they feel abandoned. Let them recall that once they had been held in loving arms. They were wanted by the one who brought them into this world and who had carried them in her womb for nine months. When they were helpless infants, she nourished them with her milk, washed, changed, fed and clothed them. All that was long ago; nevertheless, it was a time when love was poured out without need for return.
And then when we look closer at the variety of icons depicting that special mother with the most precious infant the world has ever known, we note subtle differences from one portrayal to another. They have to do with relationships.
One icon has Mary looking out ahead at the world much like a reigning queen from her throne, and on her knees is the Messiah, the only true King of Israel and of all humanity. Here He is, her posture states—your Lord and God, and my Son. A variation emphasizes the truth that He is born of her even as Son of God and Christ in her womb.
Perhaps most popular is the “Tender Love” display of their relationship to one another, where we are reminded of His helplessness as an infant and dependency on her to provide for His care. It is an icon filled with faith, for if our heavenly Father was able to entrust His Son to a mere human, albeit that girl of great capacity for love and trust, so we also ought to be able to trust Him with our paltry lives.
Another famous style depicts the mother holding her Son and partially looking at Him while glancing at us interlopers to the scene; He, using her forearm as a throne, looks directly at us and at His world. This is the Kazan style. The mother offers intensive complete adoration without reservation. That love is not cloying. It does not ask anything for itself. This woman, this human, is demonstrating the selfless love called in Greek agape, or Latin caritas, the unselfish love of the Holy Trinity for humanity. The effect on the Child is to be filled with the confidence and courage to develop apart from the mother and grow completely mature, nourished by her affection, to become independent and prepared to achieve the purpose for which He had come from the Kingdom of His Father and the Holy Spirit.