I ˙drove thirty miles last week to see a painting weep. ˙˙I
came away not sure of what I saw, wondering about other things as
well.
St. ˙˙Nicholas ˙Albanian Orthodox Church sits in a ˙bungalow
community ˙on ˙the Northwest Side of Chicago, ˙across the ˙street
from ˙a shopping mall. ˙Built in 1961, ˙it seats only about ˙400
people. ˙The vestibule is small, ˙the aisles narrow. ˙The place
cramps ˙the movement of hundreds who had come for a glimpse at ˙a
miracle.
Father ˙Philip Koufos, ˙pastor of the church, ˙first saw the
sight on December 6, St. Nicholas' Day.
In ˙Orthodox churches, ˙a ˙decorated wall, ˙or ˙iconostasis,
partially ˙conceals ˙the altar from ˙the ˙congregation. ˙˙Father
Koufos ˙and ˙two ˙parishoners had approached the ˙wall ˙to ˙light
votive candles. ˙Among the images on the wall was an icon of the
Virgin ˙Mary ˙holding ˙the young Jesus, ˙painted by a ˙man ˙named
Kostas ˙Yousis ˙in 1961. ˙He'd made the virgin's eyes ˙wide ˙and
sorrowful, ˙in the manner of icons. ˙But never before had Father
Koufos noticed moisture there.
"First ˙I ˙saw a long stream of wet coming out of ˙the ˙eyes
down ˙to the bottom of the icon. ˙As we further examined it, ˙we
saw ˙multiple ˙sprays ˙come down and exude ˙from ˙the ˙hands...an
actual squirting."
"I ˙immediately fell on my face. ˙My parishoners thought ˙I
had ˙fainted...I was in shock. ˙Then as I recovered myself, ˙˙we
looked ˙everywhere ˙to ˙see ˙if water was coming ˙down ˙from ˙the
ceiling." ˙They found nothing but the wet, ˙staring eyes of ˙the
Madonna.
The ˙pastor tried to keep the matter quiet, ˙but ˙the ˙story
spread ˙˙out ˙of ˙the ˙tiny ˙church ˙onto ˙TV ˙screens ˙and ˙into
newspapers. Now here were hundreds of people, men and women from
all over the city, come to see the weeping icon.
I ˙hesitated ˙to ˙move toward the painted ˙wonder ˙near ˙the
altar. ˙˙A ˙˙Protestant, ˙I ˙feared I might make some ˙error ˙of
protocol and give offense. ˙A ˙black man, I ˙didn't know how the
Greeks and Turks and Slavs might react to me. Then there was the
icon itself. I wanted to think a bit, to talk to some who'd seen
it before I went forward. I wanted to do a little praying. Even
before seeing it, the thing frightened me.
They ˙did not resent my presence. ˙They stared, ˙not at me,
but at my notebook, as if it were magical. "Are you with Channel
Five?" they asked. "Are you with the Sun-Times?"
A ˙Catholic woman tells me that her rosary beads turned from
blue to green as she drove to the church. Another Catholic woman
sits ˙and talks to me. ˙"Mary is weeping," ˙she says, ˙˙"because
we're hurting her son." These two have no doubts.
Another woman in a red parka is more skeptical. ˙"It's over
by the hands. ˙I ˙didn't see any by the eyes. ˙I ˙would have to
examine it closer. It looked like a streak of varnish to me."
There are a few blacks here. ˙One of them, ˙a ˙South Sider,
takes ˙me aside to say that a calendar had miraculously ˙appeared
in his Bible, ˙a ˙calendar which had predicted the weeping ˙icon,
and ˙foretold that the wonder would cease on December ˙15. ˙˙His
church had rejected him, he said; they thought he was crazy.
I had not yet seen the picture. ˙I put away my notebook and
joined ˙the line. ˙I ˙did not have long to wait; ˙the crowd ˙had
thinned a little.
The ˙virgin's eyes were dry when I approached her, ˙but ˙the
signs of moisture were there. Gleaming streaks ran from her face
and hands down to the base of the icon, glowing in candlelight.
"What does it mean?" I whispered.
A guide grinned at me. ˙"I don't know. Maybe you'll be the
lucky one who tells us."
A ˙TV ˙reporter, ˙˙shivering on the street, ˙˙asked ˙for ˙my
opinion. Instead I asked for his. ˙"It's Three-In-One oil on an
oil ˙painting. ˙When the candles flicker the moisture ˙seems ˙to
move." ˙˙He speaks with more fervor than anyone in ˙the ˙church.
Perhaps ˙it ˙was the cold. ˙"I'm a devout Christian, ˙but I'm ˙a
reporter. I've learned to be skeptical."
So ˙have I. ˙Back at the office I called a group in Buffalo
New ˙York that checks out reports of supernatural events. ˙˙They
promised ˙to send out an investigator and keep me posted. ˙˙I'll
let you know what they discover.
But ˙suppose ˙they can find no explanation ˙for ˙the ˙icon's
tears? ˙Is this a miracle, then? ˙Or is it a natural event not
yet comprehended by science? The trouble with the unexplained is
precisely that it explains nothing.
Is it any wonder that Christmas has become little more ˙than
a spending spree? ˙Gifts, ˙decorations, ˙credit cards are all so
easy to understand. ˙It's when we consider a virgin giving birth
in a barn that the confusion starts. ˙When the going gets tough,
the confused go shopping.
I ˙crossed over from St. ˙Nicholas to the shopping mall, ˙˙a
modernist ˙˙cathedral ˙˙fragrant ˙with ˙the ˙scent ˙of ˙˙Japanese
electronics ˙and Hong Kong clothes. ˙It was warm, ˙well-lit. ˙I
felt safe there. I did a little shopping.

By Hiawatha Bray