Kenneth Allan's Question About Icons

[Daniel Rancour-Laferriere]

Dear colleagues,
Regarding Kenneth Allan's question about the "symbolic and functional  
operations of icons," I would add something to the effect that "icons  
are people too."  They "function" as very important people:



Among the traditional Russian peasantry great respect was indeed  
accorded to icons.  Each peasant hut had at least one icon.  As a  
rule, the more wealthy the peasant, the more icons in his home.[i]   
The space where icons were kept was sacred, and was in some respects  
analogous to the space of the altar in a church.[ii]  It was called  
the “red corner” or “beautiful corner” (“krasnyi ugol”; in gentry or  
middle-class homes there was a “prayer room” [“molel’nia”] [iii]).   
When one entered the hut one was supposed to pay respects to the  
icon(s), even before greeting the inhabitants of the hut.  Icons were  
– and for many Russians still are today – high-ranking personages.   
For someone not to show the proper respect for icons was considered an  
offense.  For example, a visitor to a peasant’s hut was expected to  
doff his hat in the presence of the icons: “Why aren’t you taking your  
cap off, there are gods in this hut after all?”, or “This is no  
tavern, your cap is not a [kolpak], there’s the images.”[iv]  Kira  
Tsekhanskaia observes:



The absence or poor maintenance of icons in a home were signs of  
disorder, godlessness even.  One not only always removed one’s hat in  
the presence of icons, one also refrained from smoking, or at least  
smoked in such a way that the smoke did not go into the red corner.   
One also endeavored to avoid saying swear words there.  You might be  
interrupted with something like “You have no fear of God!” or “I’d  
give you a piece of my mind if it weren’t for those. . .” – while the  
other person was pointing at the icons.  Icons were treated with  
respect.  Whenever people started talking about them, they would try  
to use the most decorous expressions.  If you took an icon in your  
hands, you would cross yourself.  New images, or images brought from  
another home were put into the red corner only after a priest blessed  
them with holy water.  You didn’t sit down with your back to the  
icons, and you tried not to let little children into the red corner,  
where they might be naughty.[v]


Generally speaking, one was supposed to be on one’s best behavior in  
the presence of icons.  They were regarded as very important people  
who must not witness any untoward behavior.  For example, they were  
(supposed to be) curtained off when sexual intercourse took place. 
[vi]  The customary personification of icons is clear in the very  
wording of Tsekhanskaia’s scholarly text:



The presence of icons in the home supported a moral order which people  
were afraid of violating in the view of such witnesses.  If there were  
quarrels, or scenes, or other squabbling, somebody would say “At least  
take the saints away!” – that is, take the icons out of the house.[vii]


Psychoanalytically speaking, icons served as a kind of supplementary  
superego within the context of the of the peasant hut.  To sin in  
their presence was to experience a greater sense of guilt, or shame,  
than to sin in their absence.








[i] .  Tsekhanskaia  2001, 304.



[ii] .  Tul’tseva 2001, 138.

[iii].  Other Russian terms that were used among the peasantry  
include: “perednii ugol,” “sutnii ugol,” “pochetnyi ugol,” “bol’shoi  
ugol,” “kniazhoi ugol.” “kut,” “tiablo” (“ziablo”), “chasovnia,”  
“bozhnitsa,” “kiot” (“kivot”).  See: Tsekhanskaia 1998, 124; Tul’tseva  
2001, 141.  Other terms for the icon room among the more wealthy, in  
addition to “molel’nia,” were “obraznaia” and “krestovaia” (Snegirev  
1993 [1862], 105).  Nowadays in rural Russia the most common  
designation for the icon corner or icon case seems to be  
“bozhnitsa” (Moroz 1998, 114).

[iv].  Tsekhanskaia 1998, 155.

[v].  Tsekhanskaia 1998, 156.  The prohibition against smoking in the  
presence of icons still applies: “Pered ikonami ne kurit’” – read a  
recent sign at an icon-kiosk in Moscow (author’s field notes, 12 Sept.  
1999).



[vi] .  Belova 1999, 400; Olearius 1967 (1656), 255.

[vii].  Tsekhanskaia 1998, 159 (emphasis added).  Cf. Belova 1999, 400.




From: THE JOY OF ALL WHO SORROW, 200-201.


With regards to the list -

Daniel Rancour-Laferriere


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