SOUL FOOD:

By Sept. 19, 2008, Father Wayne Wilson had had a headache 24 hours a day for almost three months.

He’d seen a neurologist. He’d had an MRI. Yet they failed to provide an explanation for the headaches, which medication hadn’t remedied.

Now he was standing in the Nativity of the Most Holy Theotokos Serbian Orthodox Church in Irvine encountering the Myrrh-streaming Hawaiian-Iveron Icon for the first time.

While the headache plagued him, his bad back was also on his mind. The Akathist service that was about to begin would be lengthy.

And Akathist means “without sitting.” Those who are able sing the service’s poetic verses while on their feet.

“Having a bad back,” recalls the longtime Huntington Beach resident and priest, “I didn’t look forward to standing for so long.”

Now, before I go on, let me back up. Until I learned of the Hawaiian-Iveron Icon, I’d never heard of such a thing. Envisioning it was beyond me.

I can’t give you an explanation. Myrrh-streaming and other miraculous icons are by their nature considered mysteries. I can only give you a description.

If icons are unfamiliar to you, they are religious images usually rendered on wood. In this case, the image is of Mary, the Mother of God — or Theotokos — and the Christ child.

It’s a small print mounted on wood about one-inch thick. It is called Iveron after an earlier myrrh-streaming icon in Montreal, which itself was named after an original at the Monastery of Iveron on Mount Athos in Greece.

It is called Hawaiian-Iveron because its home is the Iveron Russian Orthodox Church in Hawaii. From there, its guardian, Reader Nectarios, travels with it.

The image exudes intensely fragrant oil, which brings to mind roses.

Last June, Archbishop Kyrill of the Russian Orthodox Church recognized it officially as “miraculous and genuine.” It’s said to have healing properties for soul and body.

The icon is housed in a frame with a hinged glass door. At the church in Irvine, Father Wayne stood within three feet of it.

As the Akathist began, he could see the glass door appeared cloudy. Later, when Reader Nectarios opened the door, Father Wayne realized the mist was myrrh oil.

Another priest whispered to him to look at the icon’s right eye. It was streaming so much myrrh cotton balls placed at the bottom edge of the icon were drenched.

In an e-mail sent to members of St. Barnabas Church in Costa Mesa, where he is senior pastor, Father Wayne later wrote, “My own eyes swelled with tears as I watched the heavy stream of myrrh from Her eyes. By God’s Grace I spent time in Paradise with Her.”

During the long Akathist, 60 minutes had seemed to him like five.

Prior to the service, names of people in need of healing had been written on slips of paper and given to the priests. During the Akathist, the priests asked the Theotokos to intercede on their behalf.

When the service was over, the icon was still streaming with myrrh. Father Wayne rested his head on it and prayed for his own headache to end.

The next day it was gone.

He remembers how for a long time after the Akathist, Father Blasko Paraklis, parish priest at the Irvine church, anointed the faithful with cotton balls soaked in the icon’s myrrh. He took a cotton ball home as well as a small vial of the oil.

Tucked into an empty matchbox, the vial leaked and the box became permeated with the oil. “It still smells with the sweetness,” says Father Wayne.

That sweetness, without variation, is described as rose-like. I can attest to that.

For those of you who read this column regularly, you know that St. Barnabas is my home church and Father Wayne is my parish priest. But I was in Washington D.C. when the Myrrh-streaming Hawaiian-Iveron Icon arrived in Irvine.

I was sure it was going to elude me. But I returned in time to attend two services with my husband before it left.

We came home with cotton swabs soaked with its pungent oil. Yes. They smell like heavenly roses. Even now.

I was looking forward to seeing the icon again before it ever returned home. Thanks to Reader Nectarios, Father Wayne and several parishes in Orange County and Riverside that have shared the expense of bringing it back, the icon will visit St. Barnabas starting at 7 p.m. Jan. 23.

Now I know there are skeptics concerning this icon and other miraculous things like it. Last September, until I saw the icon, I might have been counted among them.

I’ve collected the questions skeptics have put to me, and I’m now garnering answers from clergy, professors and laity. In a couple of weeks, I’ll share what I can of what I’ve learned with you.

Meanwhile, while it’s in town, you may want to see this icon for yourself. Demand for such visits is growing and there’s no telling when it’ll be back.

There is no charge and no obligation. If Orthodox Christianity has a motto, it’s got to be what the Samaritan woman said to her town folk after meeting Jesus at their communal well: “Come and see.”

All are welcome to come and see. And, after the Akathist service, to be anointed with the oil from this icon that’s said to be wonderworking.

Father Wayne says those who come can stay in the presence of the icon as long as they like.

Should you want to see the icon but can’t make it to St. Barnabas, e-mail me for the other times and churches it will visit before it leaves Jan. 25.

If you’d like to know more about the history of the Myrrh-streaming Hawaiian-Iveron Icon or the myrrh-streaming Iveron icon of Montreal or the original icon on Mount Athos, I’d be happy to e-mail you information about them, too. Their full stories are simply far too lengthy to recount in this column. To learn more about St. Barnabas Orthodox Church, visit www.stbarnabasoc.org.

Next week I’ll tell you about how a group of local Turkish Muslims will commemorate the landing of Noah’s ark on Mount Ararat. The day is known as Ashure and you’ll be invited to help celebrate it.

MICHÈLE MARR is a freelance writer from Huntington Beach. She can be reached at [email protected].