The Icon of Christ and St Menas

By Rachel Mawdsley >> 5 min read

“The glory that you have given me I have given to them, that they may be one even as we are one, I in them and you in me, that they may become perfectly one, so that the world may know that you sent me and loved them even as you have loved me.”—prayer of Jesus, John 17:22-23

When I was a child, I wanted nothing more than to step into the pages of my storybooks: to take a trip up the Faraway Tree, sneak out to a midnight ball and dance with my eleven sisters, befriend a star that had fallen from the sky. I longed to enter a brand-new world, sparkling and magical. I am reminded of this as I encounter the very different Icon of Christ and St. Menas, which invites me to enter into something not only divine but intrinsically grounded and earthy.

Painted on wood, this icon is traced back to the monastery of Bawit in Middle Egypt, created in the 6th Century. It features Christ beside the Abbot Mena, the head of the monastery at the time. The work is 57cm by 57cm, 2cm thick, and is currently housed in the Louvre in Paris. Considered the oldest-known Coptic icon, the French have named the painting “Christ and His Friend”. It is a profound symbol of the friendship we encounter in knowing and being known by Christ.

Approach the icon with me. St. Menas has his feet in the dirt while Christ appears to be hovering beside him. Christ is holy. St. Menas is utterly human. A space opens up between the two figures. As St. Menas makes a sign of the cross, his hand moves towards Christ, yet it is Christ who closes the distance, bridging the gap by placing an arm around St. Menas. It is striking that that the oldest-known Coptic icon is one of intimacy and nearness with Christ. Here we see the turning point, the hinge of the human story: The Word became flesh, reached out, and made his dwelling among us (John 1:14). We have been invited into friendship with Christ.

I notice I am not merely observing two friends: these two friends are observing me. They look at each other with one eye, the other straight ahead. I am somehow caught up in their friendship:  as I behold the work, I am also beheld. I am reminded of Psalm 34:5, which speaks of those who look to the Lord and are themselves made radiant. The eyes of the Lord are upon them and they are made more themselves, more human in his sight. In friendship, St. Menas takes on Christ’s brilliance and is likewise aglow with a halo. As we enter into friendship with Christ, we encounter the Living God and receive his glory. We see and are seen in return. We realise we are deeply known. Not only that: we are loved and wrapped around. In this love, we are transformed into greater likeness with Christ. Our humanness is made holy.

This transformation then extends outward. St. Menas and Christ are not facing each other, they are facing forward. This relationship is not exclusive, closed off. It is turned outward, toward you and me. It is an invitation beckoning a response. We are invited, with St. Menas and all who have gone before us, into this friendship. As I step across the threshold to join St. Menas in friendship with Christ, I notice him looking at me. I am deeply seen and known. I feel Christ’s arm wrap around me: I am deeply loved. I am brought to life as I receive this love, taking on his radiance, likeness, and glory. What is more, here I experience deep belonging and am caught up in the story of God’s people. Entering into friendship with Christ means entering into friendship with one another: joining with the body of Christ, and becoming one, just as Christ is one with the Father. This is a place of deep unity and deep belonging. We are not adrift in the world, but beautifully woven into the fabric of the people of God. This is a gift to us and to the world. Moving through the world in friendship with Christ and with each other puts the love of God on display. It shows those around us that they are seen, known, and loved as the Father loves Christ. They are invited into the very sense of belonging they long for and were made to receive. This is a compelling vision. The transformation we experience in friendship with Christ must move outward as an invitation to others, becoming the transformation of our communities and the world around us.

I cast a glance outward and observe passersby who haven’t yet encountered this profound friendship. My heart aches. I realise I am invited to throw open the door of my life and extend the sacred invitation of friendship with Christ to those around me: to pay attention and really see others; to linger long enough to truly know them. I am spurred on to move through the world in a way that offers a taste of intimacy with Christ and draws the world into this reality. I am not carrying a story that is far-flung and whimsical. I am called to embody this story that is ancient and earthy and true: to seek friendship with Christ and from there be turned outward, that the world may know the love of God and be renewed.