By Sarah H. Begley (ThM Thesis)
“A world in need of redemption is a world in which vision of God is not an optional extra. . . Art, faith, theology and doing good can provide paths to such glimpses of the transcendent.”
– G. Thiessan, Theological Aesthetics
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE: INTRODUCTION
-Foundations
CHAPTER TWO: THE HISTORICAL CONTEXT OF THE SEVENTH
-Ecumenical Council
-The First Period of Iconoclasm and the Seventh Ecumenical Council: 726-787
-The Second Period of Iconoclasm and the “Triumph of Orthodoxy”: 815-843
CHAPTER THREE: THE LIBRI CAROLINI AND PAPAL RECEPTION OF NICAEA II
– Motives, Politics, and Authoship
-The Critiques
-Hadrian’s Response
-The Lasting Effects of the Libri Carolini
CHAPTER FOUR: CONTEMPORARY ROMAN CATHOLIC AND EASTERN ORTHODOX THEOLOGY OF IMAGES
-The Second Mosaic Commandment
-The Incarnation–When God Became Imaged
-Worship vs. Veneration
-Dogmatics in Color
-Images in Practice
CHAPTER FIVE: CONCLUSIONS-MORE QUESTIONS THAN ANSWERS
-Sacred Art as Truth: Importance of Acknowledging the Shared Theology
-Sacred Art as Language: Admitting Biases and Misunderstandings
-Sacred Art as Dialogue: Keeping the Lines of Communication Open
BIBLIOGRAPHY
-Eastern Theology of Icons (Sacred Images)
-WesternTheology of Icons (Sacred Images)
-Seventh Ecumenical Council (And Other Related Byzantine Councils)
-Charlemagne and the Libri Carolini
-Theological Aesthetics
-General Art and Theology (Art Historical Studies)
Chapter One: Introduction
Thesis: Despite their now disparate artistic traditions, the Eastern Orthodox and Roman Catholic Churches share the same theology of images. As with many holy traditions of the Church, the respective cultural milieu has colored the manner in which Her people manifest Her doctrines.
Theology cannot be separated from life. However, there are three distinct levels, or kinds of application, of theology that are at work in the case of icons. At the first and “highest” level, the level of concilar doctrinal statements about icons, Orthodoxy and Roman Catholicism strongly agree.1 In fact, the primary source of Eastern Orthodox doctrine about icons, the Seventh Ecumenical Council, is to this day also regarded as a genuine and orthodox ecumenical council by the Roman Church. The well-known Council of Frankfurt, which condemned the Seventh Council, was itself rejected by Rome.
But there is more to the story. While East and West share an identical doctrine of icons, different components of that doctrine are given different emphases in the East and West, respectively. Eastern Christians tend to emphasis the mystical participation of the image with the archetype while the West tends to emphasize the didactic, or educational, power of images. In practice, this means that theology of icons, common to the undivided Church of the first millennium, differs on its second and phenomenological level, though not in substance.
And here we come to a third level, that of practically manifested theology. What does an icon look like? Though Eastern and Western Christianity once shared an artistic tradition whose roots can still be seen today, over time each Church has adopted different ways, sometimes scandalously so, of drawing, painting, or carving their sacred images. These differing “tactics” are not the concern of this thesis. Common experience shows that in the minds of many faithful in the Eastern Orthodox and Roman Catholic Churches, because their respective sacred art looks different, then it follows that the theology must be different. For instance, many Orthodox feel that because Roman Catholic art is more naturalistic, their theology focuses more on the sensual and corporal rather than the spiritual. By contrast some Roman Catholics may be suspicious of the ubiquity of images in the East, feeling that it might be overly superstitious or just plain confusing. The purpose of the present work is to remind the Eastern and the Western Church of what they hold in common: A high theology of Christian devotional art accepted for over thirteen hundred years.
A complete discussion of all three of these themes would extend beyond the limits of this paper. For the purpose of laying the groundwork for future investigations, this paper will demonstrate that there is a shared theology of sacred images between the Eastern Orthodox and Roman Catholic Churches. This shall be done through a consideration of the Seventh Ecumenical Council (Nicaea, 787), a monumental event in the history of image theology, and its reception in Western Christendom. Having laid the foundation of this theological argument in historical precedence I shall discuss the current state of image theology in each of the respective traditions.
Foundations
For the purposes of clarity I will now define a few of the terms that will appear frequently during the course of this study. Let us first begin with “theology of images.” By this I mean to refer to the canonical traditions, doctrinal statements and theological arguments set forth by the theologians and hierarchy over the centuries, which refer to the veneration and consideration of sacred images as an acceptable, and necessary, part of the Christian liturgical and personal life.
For the purposes of this study the term “image” first will be taken in its most literal sense as a depiction of some person or object. Secondly, it will be used in a more theological sense as an item that not only depicts an object but also shares some of the characteristics of that object.2
The term icon comes from the Greek eikon, which simply means “image.” However, in modern usage, the term tends to refer to “a portable devotional image, usually painted on a wooden panel.”3 In fact, this definition may be even more narrowly constrained, by some referred to as those sacred images specifically from the Eastern Orthodox tradition and, even more narrowly, to images which employ a specific artistic style.4
Despite that, in the literature (theological, art historical, and archeological) the “icon” is certainly connected with such images in the East more so than in the West, but the term correctly applies to the images of both traditions.5 As Eleuterio Fortino writes in his article, The Role and Importance of Icons: A Roman Catholic Perspective, “For the Catholic Church in the West ‗image‘ has always been used with reference both to colored form of art (frescoes, icons, mosaics) and to sculptures (bas-reliefs as well as fully rounded sculptures).”6 He continues on to explain this wider concept of the “sacred image” or “icon” can be validated using art historical documentation, such as the use of both painted images and bas-reliefs on early Christian sarcophagi, but also from what he calls “publications on the relationship between art and worship.” An “image” or “icon” it seems can be something more than a flat panel painting or mosaic.
Taking this into account, the terms “sacred image,” “sacred art” or “icon” will hitherto refer to artistic renderings of human figures (i.e. Christ or the saints), both those rendered in paint and through sculptural media. This might seem strange to some Easterners, as there is certainly more use of statuary in the West than the East, but it is not entirely unknown. There is an ivory statuette of the Theotokos and the Christ child,dating from the Byzantine period, currently residing the Victoria and Albert Museum. According to the literature, “It is the only free standing Byzantine ivory that has survived.” 7 Despite this fact, I can find no authoritative doctrinal statements prohibiting such art to be used in Christian churches.8 I intend to treat all orthodox (meaning that the image manifests correct theology) artistic traditions as part of the same whole. For the purposes of brevity, this study will omit important yet non-anthropological sacred images such as the cross, symbols such as ICHTHUS, sacred architecture and liturgical movements.9
This study intends to look at sacred images as a study in theology, rather than an art historical or pure historical treatment of the subject, both of which have been thoroughly discussed by others. For this purpose I will henceforth refer to those theologies that deal with sacred images/art or icons as “sacred image theology.” Such theologies may also be understood as “iconology” but I choose to not use this term as it does have some connection with art historical criticism. It also it is the case, as mentioned earlier, that many choose to work backward when it comes to theology of images, meaning that they begin with the sacred images themselves and posit a theology based upon what they see. In my opinion, this is like reading the book of Genesis in English, translating it into Hebrew and using that as a primary source for interpretation back into English. Sacred images, or icons, are pictorial manifestations of Christian theology and have been described by many as theological texts, and even Scripture, written in paint (or indeed in stone). However, this does not mean that one is able to work out the fullness of image theology from pictures alone. All aspects of the Church must be seen to work together as a whole. One understands one element of Church life in the context of all the others. Scripture must be understood in the context of Holy Tradition, of which icons are certainly a part, and any theology must be understood in the context of Holy Scripture and Tradition as parts of the same whole. So, rather than focus on the images themselves, I will focus on what exactly is being said about them by the Church, through her councils, bishops and theologians (as well as by some notable heads of state).
The sources used to elucidate these theologies will include a variety of primary sources such as theological writings, Episcopal letters and Canonical traditions from both Eastern and Western Christendom. For the Roman Catholic theology of images I will rely upon Papal Encyclicals (chiefly those of Pope Gregory I (540-604 A.D.) and Pope Hadrian I (700-795 A.D.)), Canonical Traditions (current and historical)10 and Councils (Frankfurt and Trent primarily), and the writings of some notable theologians, specifically those of St. Thomas Aquinas and Pope Gregory the Great. For the Eastern Orthodox position, I will also rely upon Canonical traditions and Concilar statements (primarily Nicaea II), as well as the writings of St. John the Damascene and St. Theodore Studite. For both traditions I will also examine more modern secondary sources, which will provide insight into contemporary (or relatively contemporary) understandings of the traditional theologies11.
In the interest of brevity and of illustrating my particular point, that East and West share a common theology of images, I will be examining the Seventh Ecumenical Council (Nicaea II) and its reception in the Western Church. The Second Council at Nicaea is the point at which image theology was codified and canonized, making it an essential moment in any study of sacred images. Such a statement is not a surprise to anyone familiar with the Eastern Orthodox Church, but what of the West? There appears, at least for many, to be some confusion on this point due in part, to a lengthy treatise written by theologians in the court of Charlemagne, commonly known as the Libri Carolini, which vehemently denounced Nicaea II and its theology. However, the Seventh Ecumenical Council was upheld by successive Popes, beginning with Hadrian I, and is counted among the 21 “Ecumenical” Councils of the Roman Catholic Church. It therefore will be the aim of this study to prove that historically, and presently, the Eastern Orthodox and Roman Catholic churches share, despite some arguments on either side, a common theology of sacred images, despite their disparate artistic traditions.
___ 1 It should be noted that the enactment of sacred image theology does change somewhat with the decisions of the Second Vatican Council. Though the focus of this paper is a historical theological event, this issue shall be dealt with in the last chapter. 2 The term “image” certainly has a much wider theological concept than the limited definition here and though certain aspects of that larger discussion may have some bearing on those theologies dealt with in this paper. For the sake of brevity the more complicated parts (humanity as image and likeness of God, etc.) have been left aside. 3 Brubaker, 3 4 For instance, the most current Enyclopedia of Catholicism has two separate entries, one for “Icons” and one for “sacred images.” 5 Early Christians created images with “symbolic and iconic” functions (uses “icon” to refer to an image which is not merely narrative but mediates on the subject) (Theology and the Arts pg. 137) 6 Limouris, 124 7 Rice, Art of the Byzantine Era pg. 85 8 There have been plenty of Eastern authors who a decried the use of statuary in Orthodox Churches, Ouspensky, Evdokimov, Cavarnos, and Kontoglou to name a few, but there opinions have not yet been sanctioned by the ecclesiastical Church authority. 9 Though they certainly fall under the category of “sacred images” their discussion would warrant more discussion than I have time for in this paper. 10 It should be noted that the Western concept of Canon Law differs from its sister Church in the East in that Her canons are organized by theme rather than chronologically as they are in our own tradition. It is also the case that the Canons of the Roman Catholic Church have been added to and reformed more recently in the history than their counterparts in the Eastern Church. This does have a interesting effect on current Roman Catholic image theology as will be shown later on in the paper. 11 These include everything from the writings of Ouspensky and Kontoglou to the Encyclopedia of Roman Catholicism and modern scholarly writings.
Chapter Two: The Historical Context of the Seventh Ecumenical Council
In order to understand how the Seventh Ecumenical Council at Nicaea was received in the West, it will be necessary to give a brief historical outline of the situation which brought about the council, of the council itself, and of its reception within the Byzantine Empire. The degree to which the Iconoclastic movement in the Byzantine Empire was driven by politics or theology, is a matter for historical debate. This section will examine look at what theologies were at work behind, or in conjunction with, the political machinations.
From written sources as well as archeological research images have been part of Christianity from its very beginnings. There are stories of the icons made by the Hand of St. Luke, others of the “Mandilion of Odessa” or “Veil of Veronica,” the images of Christ made when he pressed his face to a cloth, or, on a more archeological note, the images that were found in the Roman catacombs. While it may be clear that images were used among Christian Churches, in whatever form, there was not yet a clear theological stance as to the validity of their use. “Use of images was a spontaneous and reverent expression of their faith,”—no more doctrinal assertion was needed, and thus not many early theological writings specifically regarded the subject of images.12 To be sure, there were Church figures (both West and East) that broached the subject of images and their use in disparate contexts,13 but the topic had not been discussed in any great length as yet.14 Because Church did not yet have the political and cultural power that it would in later years, Her sacred images would not have been widely produced. From the fourth century through (Constantine through Justinian), images, and relics, became more ubiquitous in Christian Churches and their cult more established. It is clear from textual evidence that images were not only being used for didactic purposes but that they were also being venerated, so much so that some in the Church began to question their place in Christianity.15 Those who opposed the use of images in the Church were labeled “iconoclasts” or “icon breakers” and their theology/philosophy was soon to become the official theology of the Empire. The ideals of iconoclasm did not appear out of thin air or without warrant. Indeed, it has been posited that there may have even been some pockets of Christians who had an exceedingly zealous, frankly idolatrous, reverence for icons.16 It has also been posited that the ideologies that brought Iconoclasm to the forefront of debate during these periods were increased interaction with Islamic countries (as Islam is intensely iconoclasm) and also Jewish thought, as well as persistent Monophysite tendencies.
The First Period of Iconoclasm and the Seventh Ecumenical Council: 726-787
The first period of Eastern iconoclasm began with Leo IV “the Isaurian.” In 725, he took up the charge against the use of images in the Orthodox Church.17 Whatever the motivation may have been, in 725 the Emperor declared himself an iconoclast, deposed Patriarch Germanos and appointed a new Patriarch Anastasios.18 Leo IV‘s first act was the removal of the icon of Christ over the Halki gate, at the entrance to the city, and his replacing it with a cross (a non-anthropomorphic image, and therefore less akin to an idol). This period was marked by destruction of a great many images in churches as well as relics, and also persecution of those who advocated for them, especially monastics.
It is worth noting that the Roman Pope at the time, Gregory II, was a staunch anti-iconoclast and thus vehemently disagreed with the actions of the Byzantine Emperor. “The pious man, scorning the prince‘s impious order (to destroy images) armed himself against the emperor as against the enemy and wrote everywhere that Christians ought to be on their guard against the impiety which had arisen.”19 He even wrote a letter to Patriarch Germanos to give his support.20 The next successor to the Papal throne, Gregory III, not only wrote to Leo and Constantine in defense of images,21 but also convened a synodal council of Italian bishops at which it was decreed that,
If anyone, scorning those who faithfully practice the ancient custom of the apostolic Church, arises as a devastator, destroyer, profaner and blasphemer against the veneration of images, whether those of our God and Savior Jesus Christ, those of his Mother Mary, ever-virgin, immaculate and glorious, those of the blessed apostles and all the saints, he shall be excluded from the Body and Blood of our Savior Jesus Christ, and from the unity and the gathering of the whole Church.22
The Roman Papacy took great exception to the Iconoclast policy of the Byzantine Emperors, not convening synods or writing against their theologies, but also personally promoted the veneration of images in the Roman Church. For instance, shortly after the above decree of the synodal council Pope Gregory III made a “kind of iconostasis” in the Church of Saint Peter (the old one), which depicted Christ, the apostles, the Virgin Mary and a host of virgin saints.23 While the East was smashing icons, the West was producing them.
Leo was succeeded by his son Constantine V, who during the first thirteen years of his imperial rule he made no overt threats against icons. He convened a so-called Ecumenical24 council at Hieria in February of 752, for the purpose of making “a scriptural examination into the deceitful colouring [sic] of the pictures, which draws man from the lofty adoration of God to the low and material adoration of the creature.”25 After debating for seven months, the council announced their decision in August of the same year: That the veneration of icons was considered idolatrous and was to be anathematized by the Church and removed forthwith, and also that if any person was found venerating or producing such images they would be punished by secular authorities, and in the case of monastics, anathematized and brought before the courts on charges of heresy.26 Their conclusions were couched in a language very similar to the Ecumenical Councils which had gone before, and they took great care to show their agreement with them, in order to show their perceived orthodoxy.
At the core of the iconoclastic argument was the belief that those who advocated the veneration and use of anthropomorphic images of Christ, as well as of the saints (though in some circles they get an even more harsh treatment), had fallen into the sin of idolatry, strictly prohibited by the second Mosaic commandment. Also of utmost importance was that for iconoclasts a true icon could only be identical to its prototype, and therefore the only true icon of Christ, would be the Eucharist.
The only admissible figure of the humanity of Christ, however, is bread and wine in the holy Supper. This and no other form, this and no other type, has he chosen to represent his incarnation. Bread he ordered to be brought, but not a representation of the human form, so that idolatry might not arise. And as the body of Christ is made divine, so also this figure of the body of Christ, the bread, is made divine by the descent of the Holy Spirit; it becomes the divine body of Christ by the mediation of the priest who, separating the oblation from that which is common, sanctifies it.27
Furthermore, any attempt to render an image of Christ with paint (never mind any other material) would be blasphemous in that one would be attempting to represent the divinity (which by nature is indefinable). In addition, if the artists argued that they were only depicting Christ in his humanity, he would be guilty of trying to separate the two natures of Christ; a second heresy.
He [the artist] makes an image and calls it Christ. The name Christ signifies God and man. Consequently it is an image of God and man, and consequently he has in his foolish mind, in his representation of the created flesh, depicted the Godhead which cannot be represented, and thus mingled what should not be mingled. Thus he is guilty of a double blasphemy—the one in making an image of the Godhead, and the other by mingling the Godhead and manhood.28
The council links those who make images with the great heresiarchs:
Those fall into the same blasphemy who venerate the image, and the same woe rests upon both, because they err with Arius, Dioscorus, and Eutyches, and with the heresy of the Acephali. . . .Whoever, then, makes an image of Christ, either depicts the Godhead which cannot be depicted, and mingles it with the manhood (like the Monophysites), or he represents the body of Christ as not made divine and separate and as a person apart, like the Nestorians.29
What followed was a period of intense persecution and destruction of Churches, of which it has been said by historians that “all our sources are united as to the unqualified character of this destruction and persecution.”30 Churches were stripped of all their iconography, and images drawn from nature (flowers, animals, etc.) were painted over them. In addition to the polemic against icons, the relics of saints and their veneration were also attacked. It would appear that the government had gone far beyond the decisions of the council.31
The theological conclusions of the Council of Hireia were not met without objections from iconodules, the most famous of which came from the monastic communities. In fact there is some evidence that Constantine V carried out persecution especially against monastics, such as the story of the Martyrdom of St. Stephen the Younger.32 It is interesting to note that much of the discussion centered on vocabulary, image, veneration, worship, etc., and how that vocabulary was understood had implications for other theological truths. For instance if one understands the word “image” to mean something which shares the essence of its prototype, then to say that an icon is made in the “image” of Christ would be blasphemous, because one would be assuming that the essence of the divine was embodied in the wood or paint. But if an “image” is understood rather as something which points to the essence of its prototype, rather than sharing it, then icons are necessary because they remind us of the importance of the Incarnation and the necessity of the physical nature of Christ‘s body. Such emphasis on vocabulary will also be important when understanding the West‘s reaction to the image arguments.
The persecutions continued right up until the death of the Emperor Constantine V, whereupon they became markedly less violent.33 Constantine V was succeeded by his son, Leo IV, whose iconoclastic sentiments were not nearly as strong as his father‘s had been. At his death in 780 his queen Irene, well-documented and celebrated iconophile, ascended the throne with her son Constantine VI. In 784 AD Iconoclasm was dealt a strong blow with the accession of the Empress Irene and the consecration of Patriarch Tarasius, both orthodox in their views of icons. In order to make right the wrong that had been done at Hireia, the Empress called the Council for August of 787, but due to some military discontent, the Council did not actually convene until the 24th of September in the year 787 in the Church of Holy Wisdom at Nicaea. Taking part in the proceedings were approximately 360 bishops (more than half of whom were monks), representatives from the Eastern Patriarchs and, rather importantly for later discussions, representatives from Rome. Pope Hadrian had been invited to the council by Empress Irene and Patriarch Tarasius, and while he did not attend personally, he did send two papal legates, the Archpriest Peter and Peter the abbot of St. Sabas monastery in Rome, as well as a letter in support of the iconodule theology, which was read by his legates at the Council. Pope Hadrian wrote:
As we have received it from our holy fathers and from the most competent pontiffs who preceded us, let us paint in the churches the representations of divine history. . .and let us set in the dwelling-place of God the holy image of our Lord, God and Savior Jesus Christ in his incarnate human form, along with those of his holy Mother, and blessed apostles, prophets, martyrs and confessors whom we venerate when, out of love of them, we represent them in painting.34
After the reading of the Pope‘s letters, Patriarch Tarasius and the whole of the council agreed with what he had written, which makes clear the unanimity of the church, East and West, on the issue of icons.35 The essential elements of image theology at play during the council were the historical precedence of sacred images, incarnational theology, the concept of worship vs. veneration, and the didactic use of images in Churches.
At the end of the councils‘ eight sessions, after debate of the issues and theological language, the definition of the Council was signed and read aloud at the Imperial palace on October 3, 787 AD. The fathers of the Council declared that icon, of Christ, the Virgin Mary and the Saints, may indeed be placed in churches for the veneration by faithful, not because they wish to worship the image itself, but rather pay honor to whom the image depicts. A full discussion of the image theology of the Seventh Ecumenical Council shall be embarked upon in a later chapter. At this point it will suffice to say that the Church, East and West, now had a clear theology of sacred images and of how their use was to be understood.
The Second Period of Iconoclasm and the “Triumph of Orthodoxy”: 815-843
The Council of 787 did not end the iconoclastic debate. After a peaceful twenty-year hiatus, the iconoclastic banner was taken up yet again by the Emperor Leo V, called the Armenian. Soon after his ascension to the throne, due to the advice of some of his iconoclast theological advisors, such as John the Grammarian, he began a discussion with then Patriarch Nicephorus about making some concessions to reconcile the two positions.36 For instance, Leo V had the low hanging icons in churches removed to prevent the people from venerating them, yet he allowed the icons higher on the walls to be left untouched. Also it is said that he removed, as had Constantine V, the icon over the Halki gate in order to protect it from the soldiers, many of whom were still true to the iconoclastic ideologies of Constantine V.37 The Patriarch wholeheartedly refused any compromise, despite the Emperor‘s actions, and he was supported by the monastics, chief of whom was the abbot of the Studios monastery, Theodore, who vehemently told the Emperor he had no place in deciding the traditions and practices of the Church.38 Despite their objections the Emperor incited popular sentiment, especially among the military, toward iconoclasm. Nicephorus was deposed and was forced to flee the city, as his house came under violent attack. 39 A new patriarch, with iconoclastic tendencies, Theodotus I, was appointed in his place.
Shortly afterwards Leo V called together another council at Constantinople in 815 which annulled the Ecumenical Synod which had taken place at Nicaea and reaffirmed the decisions of Constantine‘s Council of Hiereia (752). However this council did not refer to icons as “idols” but rather decided that there were, as they called them, “degrees of evil.”40 Though this Council did not any better articulate the Iconoclastic ideas or create a new theology, there followed yet again, persecutions and a violent destruction of images. Monastics were again targeted by the Emperor, as they had been in the earlier period, largely because monasteries were the strongholds of icon veneration, the Studites and St. Theodore being especially vocal. It is said that the Emperor, through his advisors, cunningly tried to win over many monastics to his side, and succeeded, at least outwardly, in more than a few cases, the monks wishing to make alliance with the Emperor, yet still persisted in veneration icons.41 These persecutions produced both confessors and martyrs, as had the first period and was considered just as fierce.42
There was a brief respite when Leo‘s successor, Michael II, ascended to the throne (in a rather violent manner) in 821. Though still an iconoclast, having been raised quasi-Jewish, he elected to “maintain the Church as we [he] found it,” though he did grant general amnesty to iconodule prisoners and exiles.43 The situation changed when his son Theophilus, who had been tutored by the aforementioned John the Grammarian, succeeded him in 829. A decree was issued which prohibited any “sacred images with colors” and attacks were again made on monastics, not even allowing them within the city limits of Constantinople. Thus began another series of violent persecution; the worst part of which lasted from approximately 832 until 836, with monastics being the majority of those to suffer. 44 These persecutions ended with the death of Theophilus in January 842 at which time his queen Theodora, who throughout the persecution had shown an affinity for icons even so much as to ask for the release of some prisoners, became regent for the underage Emperor Michael III. Under her reign a council was convened in Constantinople in 843 presided over by Patriarch St. Methodius which reestablished the veneration of icons, excommunicated iconoclasts, and again affirmed the dogma which had already been established by the Ecumenical Council at Nicaea.45
12 New Catholic Encyclopedia Images pg. 323 13 And they weren’t always in agreement! (Martin 18-20) The cult of images, as it is often termed, became more developed in the 4th-5th centuries. Some well known Fathers of the Church, like Clement of Alexandria and Tertullian, had made some criticism of the practice in their writings. 14 Sacred images were discussed at the Quintisext Council, but not in broad theological terms. Canon 82 of the council concerns the representation of a specific image, that of Christ. It says that we ought not to represent Christ as a lamb, but rather in his anthropomorphic form as a reminder of his incarnation. One might ask why this particular Council was not received into the Roman Catholic Church and how this effects the shared theology of images, but the reasons for the lack of Roman reception has perhaps more to do with ecclesiastical politics and the so called “small t” traditions than with theology, so for the present it shall be left aside. 15 E. Kitzinger, The Cult of Images in the Age Before Iconoclasm from notes from Dr. Skedros class on Iconoclasm. 16 Martin, 28 17 Martin, History of Iconoclastic Controversy, 17 (Note: Although this particular author is blatantly iconoclastic, which leads him to misinterperet, he does present valuable historical information This identification of Martin’s iconoclastic tendencies is also shared by Aristides Papadakis in his doctoral thesis entitles Iconoclasm: A Study in Hagiography.) 18 Martin. 33. This event, as well as a great many historical details, are also mentioned in great detail in the life of St. Stephen. (Synaxaristes, 977) 19 Lanne, 7 20 Lanne, 7-8 The language here is very close Germanos’ own. This letter was read aloud at the Council of 787 21 Lanne makes the comment, “The fearful messenger did not dare deliver them.” 22 Lanne, 8 23 Ibid, 8 This was not the only sacred image which was created on account of Pope Gregory iconodule fervor. Though this particular iconostasis no longer survives, there is a still surviving golden icon (statue) of the Virgin Mary and Christ which the Pope had placed in the Church of St. Mary Major in Rome. 24 Martin, 47. There were claims by many of the iconodules that this council was not in fact, at all ecumenical as it did not have the requisite number of hierarchs from various sees, and it would appear that the Emperor had stacked the council in his own favor. In the Life of St. Stephen the New, Stephen has a conversation with Emperor Constantine in which he chastises him for this very issue. Synaxaristes, 991. However it was not the case that the council was entirely without debate, after all, there was discussion for seven months. Papadakis, 97. 25 Martin, 47. There were claims by many of the iconodules that this council was not in fact, at all ecumenical as it did not have the requisite number of hierarchs from various sees and it would appear that the Emperor had stacked the council in his own favor. In the Life of St. Stephen the New, Stephen has a conversation with Emperor Constantine in which he chastises him for this very issue. Synaxaristes, 991 However it was not the case that the council was entirely without debate, after all, there was discussion for seven months. Papadakis, 97. 26 Martin, 51, Papadakis, 96. 27 NPNF2-14 Epitome of the Definition of the Iconoclastic Conciliabulum held in Constantinople, A.D. 754. 28 Ibid 29 Ibid. 30 Papadakis, 99. 31 Papadakis, 101. 32 Skedros, notes. (Theophanes). 33 Papadakis, 69; Ouspensky Theology of the Icon, 112 34 Lanne, 11 35 It is also interesting to note that the language found in Hadrian’s letter to the council is rather similar to that of the final decree of the council. Lanne makes the argument that it is due to the role of the Papal legates in the editing process at Nicaea II. This, again, underlines the point that Nicaea II was not spurned by the Western Church; after all they had hand in its final decree. 36 Ibid, 114 37 Martin, 165-66 38 Ouspensky, 114 39 Martin, 169 40 Ibid, 173; Ouspensky, 115 41 Martin, 176 42 Ouspensky, 115 Martin disagrees with this point, believing that, because Leo V was less interested in theology, the persecutions were not nearly as great and that chroniclers such as St. Theodore had over exaggerated the number of those killed. 177-78, 80 43 Martin, 200; Ouspensky 115 44 Martin, 206-207, Ouspensky, 115 45 Ouspensky, 115-16, Martin, 208
Chapter Three: The Libri Carolini and Papal Reception of Nicaea II
Motives, Politics, and Authorship
In the previous section it was shown that the Roman church was present and active at Nicaea II, and that the council was accepted by the Papal authorities at the time. However, just as the Seventh Ecumenical Council took 50 years to finally become normative for the Eastern Church, the council encountered some opposition in the West. The most notable of these was one very loud dissenting opinion from the Frankish court theologians of Charlemagne. It is this objection which seems to overshadow the Western understanding of the decisions of the Council itself, leading to the false appearance that the Roman Catholic Church did not recognize the Seventh Ecumenical Council. The opinions of the court of the Frankish court were not normative for the Roman Catholic Church and were not shared by the Papal authorities. What follows is a general historical account of its conception and authorship, followed by a discussion of its purported theology and critiques of the Seventh Ecumenical Council, ending with the response of the Papacy to the document.46
Shortly after the Seventh Ecumenical Council the acta were brought to Pope Hadrian by his legates. A Latin translation of these acts was ordered and a copy sent to the Frankish court. Around the year 792 47, Charlemagne‘s court produced a document entitled the Opus Caroli Regis Contra Synodum, or often referred to simply as the Libri Carolini (henceforth LC). The treatise, which Gero calls a “substantial polemical work in four books,”48 was originally intended as an argument paper for the Council of Frankfurt in 79449, and is attributed to Charlemagne, though some believe the work to be authored by his court theologian Theodulf of Orleans.50 The work is a polemic against Nicaea II in which the author attacks, point by point, the council and its theology, as well as the Byzantine Empire in general.51 A shorter version of this document, the capitula listing Charlemagne‘s objections to the Council of Nicaea II, was given to Pope Hadrian, whose response shall be discussed below.52 The Franks appeared to be ignorant of the fact that Nicaea II had been given Papal approval.
The LC‘s criticisms of the Byzantines and the council at Nicaea are of two natures: the theological, most of which are extremely flawed, and the political, outright or veiled in the guise of theology. There is some scholarly debate as to whether or not the entire document is simply a piece of political propaganda, used to discredit the Byzantine Empire by means of theology,53 or whether the theology was the main source of criticism and the political ramification an effect of the theological objections.54 It has been posited that perhaps, like iconoclasm in the East, the issue here was as much about theology as it was about politics. In the East, the theology forced a confrontation between the Emperors and the Church—who has the power to make theology—so it did in the West: Did Charlemagne make Church policy or did the Pope? 55 One might also say that in making such objections to an Ecumenical Council and implicitly (or explicitly in some cases) to Byzantine and Roman ecclesiastical authority, Charlemagne was trying to assert his own authority in the Church. After all, he was not included in the proceedings of Nicaea II. In fact, in 794 Charlemagne would call his own church council, at Frankfurt. One of the decisions of the council was to condemn the Seventh Ecumenical Council and along with it the iconodule and iconoclast positions.56 It should be noted that the Council of Frankfurt was a local council held by the Frankish church and therefore not normative for the Western Church, unless upheld by Papal approval which it did not receive, as shall be shown.
Despite the academic debate on the political nature of the document, I intend here to focus on the criticisms and misunderstandings of the LC‘s theological arguments and treat the political elements as the effect rather than the cause. That is not to say, of course, that there are not outright anti-Byzantine political statements in the LC. On the contrary, it is clear that Charlemagne, and his court theologians, had many scathing things to say about the Byzantines. For instance, they objected to the fact that the council was called by a woman, the Empress Irene, and that she took part in the sessions. After all, according to St. Paul, women ought not speak in Church, never mind at ecumenical synods.57 The document also shows a certain resentment at Charlemagne not being invited to take part in the proceedings.58 These political critiques, which in some cases go hand in hand with the theological issues, are important to understanding the mind of the author and the state of relations between the Byzantine Emperors and the Franks. Indeed, the clear political implications of the document make it easier for one to believe that theological opinions of the LC were not at all normative for the Western Church. For the moment, however, these issues will be put aside in order to discuss the theological issues brought up by the LC.
Before discussing the theological arguments of the LC it is necessary to note, as was mentioned earlier, that most, if not all, of these arguments are inherently flawed due to the fact that they Franks received a faulty translation of the acta of Nicaea. The Latin version that they received was, at best, inaccurate and, at worst, inaccurate and woefully incomplete. It would appear from the line of argumentation that the author of the LC had no access to the Greek version whatsoever and that he showed “incomplete acquaintance with the proceedings” of the Council.59 It is for this reason that many of the LC‘s arguments seem strange to anyone with a familiarity with Nicaea II. It is also for this reason that the arguments of LC, and by extension the Council of Frankfurt, “cannot be taken as a response [to Nicaea II] in any meaningful sense.”60 After all the LC is arguing against statements that no one actually made. Nevertheless, a discussion of these misunderstandings will allow us a look into Frankish theology and also reveal the absurdity of some of their claims.
The Critiques
Charlemagne, in the LC, attacks one of the core teachings of the Seventh Ecumenical Council: The importance of the honor (veneration, adoration, worship—the vocabulary issues will soon become apparent) that is given to sacred images—to icons. The author of the LC is outraged at the idea that the Church would advocate the adoration of images, because such adoration ought to be reserved for God alone, anything else would be a quick descent into idolatry—into paganism. The problem here is that the terms proskynesis/doulia (honor given to the sacred or holy, i.e. images) and latreia (honor given to God alone) are both translated from the Greek, into Latin, as adoratio, thus creating a immediate misunderstanding of a concept which is central to Nicaea theology.61
Charlemagne and his theologians are correct in their understanding that adoratio/latria is worship which is offered to God alone, and the Council is certainly not advocating that icons be worshipped, but rather that they be venerated (proskynesis) which is reverence for the sacred and holy, a concept not unheard of to the Frankish court.62 With this poor translation the subtleties of the theological intent are lost, and therefore so is the cornerstone of image theology. It is this initial misunderstanding of vocabulary which fosters further confusions. For instance, when the Council offers an illustration of the image and veneration argument using the Byzantines‘ regard for an image of the Emperor, the LC accuses the Byzantines of over exalted reverence toward their emperors, as has been mentioned earlier, which is close to idolatry, all because they did not understand the underlying message of the metaphor. Such confusion when it came to theological ideas was not only the fault of poor translation but also one of poor theological intellect. The authors of the LC showed a lack of knowledge when it came to Greek language literature or indeed the theologians of the Hellenistic world. They, instead, restricted authority on images to Latin authors, such as Ambrose, Augustine, and Gregory the Great.63 This did not imply an outright rejection of Eastern authors, but showed a lack of familiarity with them.
The LC also demonstrated the belief that images, in that they are simply manmade objects, are not imbued with any essential holiness worthy of worship or veneration. “Pictures,” writes Charlemagne, “do not have any divine mystery attached to them.”64 Images are no more than material objects. The LC does not give legitimacy to Nicaea‘s argument that the honor given passes to the prototype. This can probably be linked to the fact that the author of the LC had little to no familiarity with Greek philosophy and therefore probably did not understand the subtleties of the arguments, just as in the aforementioned metaphor involving the image of the Byzantine Emperors. It is clear that the authors of the LC are quite uncomfortable with acknowledging in any way that images, however useful they might be as “scriptures for the illiterate,” as Gregory I says, could have any elements of spiritual holiness about them. After all, the first six Ecumenical Councils had not said anything theological about images or their veneration, so why ought they be such an integral part of the faith?65 Perhaps, had the Franks had more familiarity with the full arguments, both philosophical and theological, their opinion might have been different.
But what of the other major issue of the Nicaea II, the incarnation? The LC did not agree, as Nicaea argued, that it was because of the incarnation that images were a central part of the Christian faith. Indeed the authors of the LC use the incarnation as the means to deny the usefulness of venerating (or in their understanding) worshipping images. The LC railed against the failings of images when it comes to true communication with God. The Frankish theologians felt that there can be no connection to the divinity through lifeless images made by human hands,66 just as there was no essential likeness between a true human being and a picture of one.67 God dwelt in those who believed in him through the mediation of Christ, which was possible because of his incarnation and taking on of human flesh. Morrison, in his article “Anthropology and the use of Religious Images in the Opus Caroli Regis,” further explains:
The give-and-take of mediation, [“Charles”] thought, could happen only between individuals who were alike in some essential way. For mediation to occur, there had to be a likeness more than material resemblance on the surface. . . .For there was no essential likeness between a ‗real human being‘ (homo verus), alive and having powers of reason and senses, and a ‗painted human being‘ (homo pictus), inert and lifeless, without any quickening powers.68
The only way to God is through Christ; images merely clutter the path, spiritually speaking. Through this type of argument it is clear that the LC makes a distinction between God and the physical universe and that since the only true mediator is Christ then no physical matter, i.e., Icons, can bridge this gap.69 One cannot know God through images, argues the LC, because images are man-made (inventions of the artists mind, etc.) and because of this they would bid us consider earthly matters, rather than those of the divine.70
This is not to say that the LC condemned images altogether, as did the iconoclasts, but rather they took the line of a rather strict reading of Gregory I: That sacred art was of didactic and historical use, but certainly not anything more. Art was something that ought “be neither destroyed nor adored.”71 The iconoclasts, who did not escape the Frankish wrath, were most certainly heretics since they destroyed images of Christ and the saints. Indeed, the LC equated their actions with those of the Jews who crucified Christ.72 The LC upheld the cult of the saints because of the real holiness which has been infused into their flesh during their earthly lifetime. Veneration of saints was not like veneration of a lifeless image because the saints were real human beings whose lives had been lived in contact with God and therefore could lead the faithful to him. The iconodules, though they did not destroy images, were heretical because they advocated the worship of images (at least according to the LC’s understanding of Nicaea II‘s theology) which made them idolatrous. Neither Hiera nor Nicaea II had upheld true theology, but Frankfurt had.
Hadrian’s Response
Even though the Libri Carolini produced by Charlemagne‘s court was a substantial work dealing with the theology of images, indeed the largest theological text of its time produced in the West, it was in fact not indicative of normative Western theology during this period. As was mentioned previously, a copy of the treatise had been sent to Pope Hadrian, though this copy is now lost.73 In response, in 794 AD Pope Hadrian I addressed a long reply to the capitula of the Libri Carolini the purpose of which was to demonstrate to the Frankish court that “the doctrine of images approved by Nicaea II is in accord with the whole Roman tradition.”74 The Franks, despite all their theological fervor, had it wrong. Pope Hadrian viewed the LC not as a viable refutation of the Seventh Ecumenical Council, but rather as “so many questions to be answered.”75 The Frankish church had some questions about the Council‘s language, and they needed the Pope to clarify.
The Roman Church, argued Pope Hadrian, had been using images, both didactically and prayerfully, since the beginning of Christianity. He writes, “The custom of our catholic, apostolic and Roman Church has been and always is first to anoint sacred images and paintings with holy chrism before giving them over to be venerated by the faithful.”76 Not only does this sanction the language of Nicaea, it demonstrates that far from being a novel concept formulated in the feminine heads of Greeks influenced by pagan cultures, veneration of images by Christians was an established practice in the Church in the West. Their use, after all, had been sanctioned by previous Popes, including those pontiffs who had been present at the other Ecumenical councils (and they, after all, certainly were not heretics). Pope Hadrian also makes appeals to both Latin and Greek Fathers, including Gregory the Great, whose letters Charlemagne had used to defend his own position. In fact, Hadrian is quite adept in his use of Gregory‘s writings, which had been used by the LC in defense of its own position. Gregory ends his letter to Serenus, a Latin bishop, (in which he had previously made an argument that images be kept for their didactic use, but kept free of idolatrous influence) with the formula:
May your Fraternity exhort them (those you have scandalized) to draw from the contemplation of what is represented the ardour of compunction and to prostrate themselves humbly in adoration of the only and all-powerful holy Trinity.77
While he might not use the exact language of Nicaea II, he appears to be on his way there.
Lastly, it is important to note that the Council of Frankfurt, called by Charlemagne himself (interestingly paralleling the authority taken by the Byzantine Emperors to do the same), was a local council, and therefore did not apply to the entire Roman Catholic Church. The Pope had the authority to uphold some of the decisions, such as the condemnation of Monophysitism, but not all of them, as was the case with the condemnation of Nicaea II. Unfortunately, Charlemagne and his court did not seem interested in the Papal censure of their Libri Carolini and of their council at Frankfurt, and the arguments of the LC “carried the day” in the Frankish Church rather Hadrian I‘s arguments.78
The Lasting Effects of the Libri Carolini
So where does this leave image theology in the West? Was the Byzantine council rejected because of its flawed theology which gave sacred images a near idolatrous stance or was it upheld as the truth which had been part of Christianity since its beginnings? The simple answer to both is yes. The opinions of the LC may have had some staying power in the Frankish Church (indeed the “refutation” of Nicaea II continues to be brought up in local councils up until Trent), but this does not mean that the Catholic Church, as a whole, abandoned the ideals and orthodoxy of the Seventh Ecumenical Council. Quite to the contrary, in the years after 787, when the Eastern Church had fallen back under the yoke of iconoclasm (under Leo IV), the West (and her Popes) had stood firmly against them.79 At the council of Paris in 825 AD (another council held by the Frankish court, with a slant against Nicaea II) Byzantine Emperor Michael II found sympathetic ears to his iconoclastic arguments, but the Papacy, this time under Eugene II, continued to uphold the theology of Nicaea II. Even after the Triumph of Orthodoxy under Empress Theodora and Patriarch Methodious, the Roman Popes remained steadfastly orthodox in their understanding of Nicaea II. Pope Nicholas I wrote a letter to the Byzantine Emperor (after his requests that Roman legates be send to the council) in which he “treated the legitimacy of sacred images and of their cult at length” and ended his letter by repeating Hadrian I‘s letter which had been read at Nicaea II.80 Even when the Protestant Reformation brought iconoclasm to Western Europe, the Western Church, at the Council of Trent, made it clear that the veneration of images was indeed an orthodox practice and one which ought to be upheld.81 The Council of Trent decreed thusly:
. . .the images of Christ, of the Virgin Mother of God and of other saints are to be kept with honor in places of worship especially; and to them due honour and veneration is to be paid. . .the honour which is shown to them is referred to the prototypes which they represent. Thus it follows that through these images which we kiss and before which we kneel and uncover our heads, we are adoring Christ and venerating the saints whose likenesses these images bear.82
The image theology stated by the Council of Trent upheld the traditional theology which had been accepted along with the Seventh Ecumenical Council. It would appear that from all accounts, at the very least up until the Council of Trent, that the authority of Nicaea II in the West, for the Papacy, is quite certain. If there was any doubt, one only has to refer to the list of Ecumenical Councils currently published by the Roman Catholic Church, which lists the Seventh Ecumenical Council held at Nicaea in 787 AD as authoritative for the Church. Frankfurt is not listed among them.
The longer answer to this question of Western reception has to do with whether or not the full theological meaning and implications of Nicaea II were completely absorbed into the fabric of Western theology and practice. Did image theology permeate Western Christendom to the same extent as it did in the East? It would appear that perhaps sacred images in the West, their use and theological implications, “did not call forth such profound reflection as it did in the East.”83 Lanne, in speaking of Rome and sacred images, concludes that “In the Church of Rome [images] sought and found support, but without a theology which they were putting forward always being received in every detail.” Western Christianity upheld the importance of images, theologically and didactically, but they did so without necessarily understanding all the subtleties of arguments which the Byzantines had put forth at the Council, many of which were rooted in a philosophic and cultural traditional to which the West was not entirely familiar. It is possible for someone to know that something is right, without necessarily understanding the full implication of why that is so. Lanne continues, “The Papacy restricted itself to catholic Tradition, which it considered it had always preserved, and for that reason fully defended Nicaea II, leaving the charge of deepening the doctrine to more subtle minds.”84 The Western Church had accepted Nicaea II without plumbing its depths.
The didactic importance of images, that they could be used as a visual Bible for the illiterate and a reminder of salvific history, held more sway in the West than the image and prototype theology which the Eastern Church had articulated. Do they reject it? No. Is it engrained in their theology to the same extent as their Eastern counterpart? No. Is this a problem? Well, that very much depends on how you look at things. For some, this lack of depth could be used to infer that the art produced in the Roman Catholic Church betrays a theology which is not comparable to that of the Eastern Church. The anti-veneration sentiment of the Libri Carolini had, in fact, been absorbed into the tradition to such an extent that their sacred art was more “art” and less “sacred.” On the other hand, it could be the case that because of a growing lack of communication and cultural understanding between the two churches prevented a full reception of Nicaea‘s true theological depths. Together with the later influence of Aristotelian and Enlightenment philosophies, a different sort of sacred art was created; some of it true to tradition and some of it not.
So are the theologies comparable or, in the West, does lip service to Nicaea II conceal an undermining theology? The capture of a Church‘s sacred art by certain philosophies, present in the minds of certain patrons, artists, and (unfortunately) clergymen, does not constitute a rejection of the Seventh Ecumenical Council. The next chapter shall continue with this line of inquiry and consider in detail the common theologies held by both Eastern and Western Christian, despite the vocal objections of Charlemagne and his Frankish court.
46 Because the political motives of the Libri Carolini and the Council of Frankfurt are debated by scholars this essay will focus on the theological issues. 47 “. . .at any rate before the Council of Frankfurt (794).” (Gero, 8) 48 Gero, 7 49 Mind’s Eye: Religious Images in the Libri Carolini pg. 32 50 Gero writes that the writings of the Libri Carolini “betray a degree of theological and linguistic proficiency which he [Charlemagne] did not possess.” (8); Karl F. Morrison disagrees, arguing that Charlemagne certainly had a great deal of education (knew Greek and Latin), while the author of the LC was “barbaric”, “unskilled in the classical languages” and for this reason he believes that Theodulf is more likely the author. (Anthropology, 33) The authorship of the document, remains in debate. 51 Gero, GTR, 7 52 This may or may not have been identical information to that in the entirety of the Libri Carolini. See Gero, 7 for more discussion on this point. It is safe enough to say that they are similar enough in nature that Hadrian’s response to them is a response to the entire document. 53 Ashanin believes that the real issues with the LC were not as much the fault of a faulty translation as they were the fault of political propaganda. Charlemagne, he posited, saw his chance to discredit the Byzantines and assert his own supremacy over them (and by extension the Papacy). Pg. 61 54 Gero, in his article for the GTR acknowledges the political nature, but also focuses on the theology showing that the Franks made their criticisms on the basis of a flawed document, whereas Ashanin firmly believes that the “true aim” of the LC was completely political and that is why their theological debate showed such flaws. 55 Ashanin, 61. I have found similar lines of thought Gero, but I find that Ashanin puts it most clearly. The theology of images offers an intriguing look into the struggle between Church and State, as well as the struggle between cultural and theology. (“Hellenization” and “Germanization”) 56 Ashanin, 63 He notes here that the same legates present at Nicaea II were present at Frankfurt, yet he calls them by different names. I find it strange that the same legates who had been at Nicaea would allow the translation misunderstandings to continue. It is also important to note here that the Council of Frankurt also condemned the Adoptionist heresy, a decision which was upheld by the Papacy. 57 Ashanin, 63; 1 Corinthians 14:34 58 Gero, 9 59 Gero, 10-11 60 Gero 15 61 Gero, 10; Ashanin, 63 62 In other places in the text Charlemagne’s theologians clearly advocated that reverence be shown to relics, so it is clear to me that they understood the idea of worship vs. veneration even if that is not what they thought the council was talking about. (Gero, 15; Mind’s Eye: Religious Images in the Libri Carolini pg. 41) 63 Some Eastern theologians are mentioned, but only briefly and they certainly do not carry the same weight as do the Latin authors, especially Gregory III. (Gero, 9-10) Gero describes their theology thusly, “They are characterized by an attenuated Augustinianism, mediated through Gregory the Great” 64 Gero continues the quotation “In basilicas sanctorum imagines non ad adorandum sed ad memorial rerum gestarum et venustatem parietum habere permittimus." (14) 65 Lanne, 2 66 Mind’s Eye: Religious Images in the Libri Carolini pg. 41; 67 Ibid., 36 68 Ibid. 69 Ibid., 40 70 Mind’s Eye: Religious Images in the Libri Carolini pg. 338 Morrison here goes into a interesting discussion about how Theodulf, his assumed author, was pointing out that the Byzantines, in their zeal for images, were guilty of “mistaking anthropology for theology.” Not only did that LC argue that images did not bring individuals to a relationship with God, but through art human beings could not even fully know themselves. 71 Gero, 14 72 Gero, 16 73 Lanne, 2 74 Ibid. 75 Eberhardht, A Summary of Catholic History, 398 76 Ibid. quoting Epist. Aevi Karolinim III ed. E. Dummler, Berlin, 1899 77 Lanne, 5 The quotations here is simply an excerpt. St. Gregory’s letter to Serenus, and other of his opinions on images, shall be discussed in a later chapter. 78 These same arguments, and the text itself, are going to be brought up again during the Protestant Reformation. 79 Lanne, 15; In January 817 Pope Paschal I wrote a letter to Leo V in support of images, and the letter has been preserved. Paschal, who is also famous for adorning many Roman Churches, explained to Leo “the role of the Holy Spirit in iconographic work, the necessity of symbols, the abolition of the old law, the new covenant and its consequences.” 80 Lanne, 16-17: Lanne points out that while Pope Nicholas I did send legates to Byzantium for the 843 Council, he gave them “full authority to debate the question of images in the council.” Despite the fact that the Papal position remained firm, there was still some uneasiness in the West due to the faulty translation of the Acta of Nicaea II. 81 Lanne, 18. At the Council of Trent in 1563, the arguments use to the defend the orthodoxy of image veneration are identical to those used at Nicaea II, but with a but more emphasis on the didactic important of images (as the West is wont to do). 82 Trent citied in Lanne, 18-19 83 Lanne, 18 84 Lanne, 21
Chapter Four: Contemporary Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox Theology of Images
As we have seen thus far, the Seventh Ecumenical council and its theological conclusions were embraced, eventually, by both Eastern Orthodoxy and Roman Catholicism. So do the historical events bear out the thesis but does the theology? What the following chapter will do is to bring together the present theology of images shared by East and West85, using each tradition‘s respective theological resources. Rather than set out to compare the theology stated by each respective church, which might seem to set the two traditions at odds with each other while at the same time being redundant (using many of the same theologians, councils, etc.), the following pages will describe the “orthodox” theology of images that is shared by both the Roman Catholics and the Orthodox. In their literature both Eastern Orthodox and Roman Catholic theologians use nearly identical Patristic sources to argue their theology: St. Basil the Great, St. John Damascene, and Theodore Studite. In one notable difference, Roman Catholic theologians add citations from St. Thomas Aquinas and Pope Gregory the Great. This is not to say that West merely “borrows” theology from the East, having no theologians of their own to speak on the subject, but rather that this is a theology which stemmed from the period of unity between the two churches and indeed is still a point of accord between the two traditions.
An orthodox theology of images contains within it a variety of principles based in Scripture, Patristic writings, Ecclesiastical decisions and Church Tradition, nuanced with philosophy and cultural understandings. But what are its bare bones? What makes up the foundation of an orthodox theology of sacred images? What are the issues which must be addressed in order to show the theological validity of the existence and, most importantly, the use of sacred images in the “One, Holy, Catholic, and Orthodox” Church? To begin with, one must grapple with the Second Mosaic Commandment and how its principles relate with those of the Incarnation of Christ. Why are Christians even allowed to have images at all? Secondly, one must then define and explain the difference between the concept of “worship” and “veneration.” If we have images, what type of honor are we allowed to show them? Thirdly, one ought to speak of the value of sacred images as a virtual “theology in color.” Lastly, and closely related to the previous issue, one must examine how the Christian church has traditionally used her sacred images in regard to her worship and prayer. Within each of these issues are a multitude of theological principles and dogmatic discussions, some of which shall be elucidated in the following pages.
The Second Mosaic Commandment
Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image, or any likeness of anything that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth. Thou shalt not bow down thyself to them, nor serve them: for I the LORD thy God am a jealous God – Exodus 20:4-5
The Commandments are God‘s laws given to his chosen people. They are direct instructions as to the way in which His people ought to walk with Him. God told his people not to make for themselves images, plastic (sculptural) or otherwise, with which to worship for they have one God, and He cannot be seen.86 God is telling his people two things: (1) that He is their God above all others and that worship of false gods must cease and (2) that they cannot make an image in which He can be circumscribed.87 Worship of the one true God must be done without idols, for, unlike the false gods, the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob is in His nature ever existing, uncircumscribable, and unable to be envisioned by eyes of man, certainly not constructed by their hands.
What does this prohibition mean for Christianity? Why does the Christian church promulgate the use of images despite this divine prohibition? One cannot simply dismiss the commandment as one made by the “angry” God of the Old Testament (no Marcionites here), nor can one apply the precepts of the Old Testament exactly to the community of the new as there have been some radical events in salvation history in the interim. The issues at hand are twofold: (1) Icons are not the same as idols and (2) the Incarnation radically changes the way in which we relate to God.
Idols and icons differ fundamentally in their nature. Idols are images, plastic or otherwise, which are worshipped by virtue of the fact that they contain a supernatural or divine presence. Essentially, they are gods. Since the Israelites are followers of the one, true God, then, He tells them they cannot be involved in the worship of the other, lesser gods. Hence no more idolatry. In addition to this God is telling them that He is of a different sort of nature. God is “wholly other” and therefore cannot be contained in a material image which man has created. He is unlike the false gods, who are so limited in their spheres that they can be contained in the imaginative materials created by mankind in order to worship them.
Why doesn‘t this prohibition against “graven” images not apply to icons? First of all, not all images are idols. Even in the Judaic tradition there is not a full abolishment of sacred artistry. One of the first examples that that theologians use to combat the apparent prohibition against sacred images is that of the Ark of the Covenant.88 In Exodus 25, God speaks to Moses saying,
Speak unto the children of Israel, that they bring me an offering: of every man that giveth it willingly with his heart ye shall take my offering. . . And thou shalt make a mercy seat of pure gold: two cubits and a half shall be the length thereof, and a cubit and a half the breadth thereof. And thou shalt make two cherubims of gold, of beaten work shalt thou make them, in the two ends of the mercy seat. And make one cherub on the one end, and the other cherub on the other end: even of the mercy seat shall ye make the cherubims on the two ends thereof. And the cherubims shall stretch forth their wings on high, covering the mercy seat with their wings, and their faces shall look one to another; toward the mercy seat shall the faces of the cherubims be. And thou shalt put the mercy seat above upon the ark; and in the ark thou shalt put the testimony that I shall give thee.89
If all sacred imagery were prohibited, how is it possible that God would command Moses and His people to make what is essentially an object of sacred art? St. John of Damascus asks the same, “How therefore can you say that what the law orders to be made is prohibited by the law?”90 These images are not the idols which have been prohibited. God does not say that His people ought to build the ark and its cherubim in order that they might worship it, as Nebuchadnezzer did, but rather He commands the Israel to build a place at which they can “commune” with him.91 God is not in the ark, nor is He in the cherubim; but He speaks with his people from the “mercy seat”—the space between them.92 God certainly isn‘t supporting idolatry, after all these are not images of the divine, simply the heavenly.
This is not the only example of sacred images in the Judaic tradition. In fact, by the time of Jesus, synagogues were ornately decorated with images from Scripture from floor to ceiling. It was a visual scripture. But there is still a difference even between the sacred images used in Judaism and the icons of Christianity. Mosaics on synagogue floors were not accorded the same reverence as was the image of Christ over the Halki Gate, or the Virgin of Kazan, or Our Lady of Częstochowa or Einsiedeln. The Israelites can depict historical and theological events and they can make images of the heavenly, but no more—out of a real fear of pagan idolatry.93 They cannot make an image of God, because they have not seen Him and to circumscribe Him in physical matter by their own imagination would have been the definition of the prohibited idolatry. God was like a physician, allowing his people only what they would be prepared to take.94 The difference comes with one of the most seminal events in the history of salvation—the Incarnation.
The Incarnation—When God became imaged
Before the Incarnation, God‘s people are limited in their image making. They cannot depict God—they have not seen Him. God‘s people had heard His word, but they had not been allowed to see His face. At the Incarnation the “Word became flesh and dwelt among us.”95 As St. Athanasius puts so succinctly, “God became man.”96 Through the person of the Son, God, the uncircumscribable and indefinable, became circumscribed and defined. Human beings could not create an image which could contain God, but God did this when He sent his Son to be born of a woman, the Theotokos. It is the Incarnation which provides the foundation and the raison d’être of the sacred image—the icon. In the Mosaic commandments God‘s people were prohibited from depicting that which they had not seen. Theologians, from both sides of the aisle, have made clear the fundamental importance of this change from the Mosaic Law. St. John of Damascus writes,
I represent God, the Invisible One, not as invisible, but insofar as he has become visible for us by participation in flesh and blood. If we made an image of the invisible God, we would certainly be in error, but we do nothing of the sort; for we are not in error if we make the image of the incarnate God, who appeared on earth in the flesh, and who, in His ineffable goodness, lived with human beings and assumed the nature, the thickness, the shape and the color of the flesh.”97
St. Thomas Aquinas, in his Summa Theologica, writes (partially alluding to St. John of Damascus), “But no corporeal image could be raised to the true God Himself, since He is incorporeal. . . But because in the New Testament God was made man, He can be adored in His corporeal image.”98 St. John again writes,
For it is clear that when you see the bodiless become human for your sake, then you may accomplish the figure of a human form; when the invisible becomes visible in the flesh, then you may depict the likeness of something seen; when one who, by transcending his own nature, is bodiless, formless, incommensurable, without magnitude or size, that is, one who is in the form of God, taking the form of a slave, by this reduction to quantity and magnitude puts on the characteristics of a body, then depict him on a board and set up to view the One who has accepted to be seen.99
We have seen God and therefore are not prohibited from depicting him. “God no longer conceals himself,” says Pope Benedict XIV, “but now shows himself in the form of the Son.”100 Every sacred image is a celebration of humanity‘s uniting with the divine. Icons are not inventions of the human mind, but rather a pious representation of God‘s true icon—Jesus Christ and those through whom he has shown himself to humanity, i.e., Mary and the Saints. The physical world is now intrinsically connected to the divine in a way that it had not been before. Because of this connection the material world is able to proclaim the glory of the God not just in its nature, as divinely created, but also in its physical form. The stones themselves will now literally begin to “cry out.”101
The icon is “dogma of Chalcedon in an image.”102 Icons represent the person of Christ, His humanity and His divinity seamlessly united. The ability of sacred images to adhere faithfully to the principles of Chalcedon was a source of concern for the Iconoclast movements (of any era). This is an important quality of the icon, as to do any less, meaning depict only his divinity or his humanity, would be sliding down the slippery slope of heresy—into either Nestorianism on Monophysitism. It is for this reason that those who create the sacred images execute their work in such a manner as to be true to the person of Christ, the same Jesus Christ who was born in a manger to Mary and died on the cross at Golgotha, but also the same Christ whom the Apostles beheld glorified on Mt. Tabor and met on the road to Emmaus. As St. John so succinctly puts it, “I depict what I have seen of God.”103
How exactly to do this, is a major source of consternation between the East and the West. The truth is that orthodox sacred art, whatever tradition it comes from represents Chalcedon faithfully, neither depicts solely the divine or solely the human, though, to be sure, there have been many pitfalls in both directions. But here we must digress, and perhaps leave the aesthetics for another chapter. The point is that iconography is a manifestation of the theology which serves as the foundation for our understanding of who Christ is.
If icons are “a confession of faith in the Incarnation,”104 then to deny the ability of the Church to make and use sacred images is a de facto denial of the Incarnation itself. Theodore Studite, who‘s work stands with St. John‘s as foundation for the explication of image theology, states quite clearly, “if He could not be represented by art, this would mean that He was not born of a representable mother.”105 Created beings can be represented artistically, so to now allow artistic representations of Christ must somehow call into question his human nature. Pope Benedict XIV, echoing the same theology, states unequivocally that, “the complete absence of images is incompatible with faith in the Incarnation of God.”106 Indeed, Benedict also argues that to somehow not allow images of Christ out extreme reverence to His divine nature means that “the highest humility towards God is turned into pride.”107 God will allow Himself to be circumscribed in his own creation but we will permit His likeness in created materials? Even St. Gregory the Great, whom some claimed as a critic of orthodox image theology agrees that since we have seen Christ, we represent Him.108 And if we are not willing to represent Him, it means that we are not willing to admit that we have seen Him. And if we have not seen Him then surely our whole notion of salvation becomes suspect.
Sacred images are part of constitutive theology in both East and West, precisely because of their foundation in the Incarnation. In fact, the Roman Catholic Church states in her literature that “without accepting the decrees [of Nicaea II], no one could be a member of that Church, no one today can be Catholic or Orthodox.”109 Acceptance of the Seven Ecumenical Councils is necessary for all faithful of the current Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox Churches, including clergy, bishops, patriarchs and, yes, even Popes. Even the Great Schism could not divide the Church on this point. God created Christ as His image for humanity and so humanity may create images of Him. But what ought we to do with such images? How are we to relate to them?
Worship vs. Veneration
For each time that we see their representation in an image, each time while gazing upon them we are made to remember their prototypes, we grow to love them more, and we are even more induced to render them veneration of honor (timetike proskynesis) by kissing them and by witnessing our veneration, not the true worship (alethine latreia) which, according to our faith, is proper only to the one divine nature, but in the same way as we venerate the image of the precious and vivifying cross, the holy Gospel and other sacred objects which we honor with incense and candles according to the pious custom of our forefathers. For the honour [sic] rendered to the image goes to its prototype, and the person who venerates an icon venerated the person represented on it.
– from the Horos of the Seventh Ecumenical Council110
There are two verbs upon which the validity of orthodox treatment of images turns: worship and veneration. One is proper only to God and the other is proper to all sorts of things, saints, icons, human beings, etc. It would be simple enough to say that one worships God the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit—the Trinity, and that one venerates those things to which are deserving of honor, whether that be because they are holy to God (saints, the cross, Scripture, church objects, etc.) or because of their societal status (kings, presidents, etc.). But it is not as simple as this. The Fathers of the Seventh Ecumenical council were not writing in English, and theology often depends on how the exact words are being used and understood.
When speaking to the devil in the wilderness, Jesus quotes the law to him, “Thou shalt worship the Lord thy God, and him only shalt thou serve.”111 The word that the Gospel writers, both Matthew and Luke, use to describe this service given only to God is meaning “be in servitude” or “render cultic service.”112 From this same verb comes the noun latreia which is the term that the Seventh Ecumenical council uses for the honor which is reserved only for God.113 This term is what is normally translated into English as “worship.” The Latin translation of latreia is adoratio, which is normally translated as “adoration” or “worship.” These terms, latreia and adoratio, refer to the worship which is paid to a being only for his sake—we worship God because of what or who he is. One does not worship material beings (human or plastic) but God alone.
It has already been established that through the Incarnation, God is made manifest to humanity in the person of His Son, Jesus Christ and that because of this same event, human beings may now image Him who was previously unimaginable. So with what honor are we to treat such images of Christ, who is by nature out Lord and Savior? Are they to be given the same worship accorded him? Would this not lead into idolatry, as it is not Christ who stands before us, but wood and paint? These are the questions which plagued the Church during the era of Iconoclasm. To begin with, it is necessary to understand that the icon is just as its name implies, an image. The icon, in whatever form it comes, say the Fathers of the Seventh Ecumenical Council, does not share in the nature of Christ or of a saint, but is a merely a representation of the person—the prototype. This by no means underplays the importance of such images, but rather shows them not to be idols. Ouspensky explains, “The icon is linked to its prototype not because it is identical to that which it represents, which would be patently absurd. The icon is joined to its prototype because it portrays the person and carries his name. This is precisely what makes communion with the presented possible, what makes him known.”114 Icons are not constitutive of the prototype, whether that be Christ, the Virgin Mary, or Saints, but rather it is just as its name implies—an image, which allows something of the person to be present but not in their entirety.
To be sure, Christians had been using images since the very beginning, but there had not yet developed a theological language to explain both their use and purpose and to prevent any idolatrous misuse. To this end it is necessary to establish language for describing the honor due to a sacred image not because, as we have just stated, if someone is the person depicted, but nevertheless one ought to show reverence somehow. For instance, it is not uncommon for families of those serving in the military to have an image of their loved one displayed prominently in the house. This picture represents the soldier who is absent from their midst and is accorded a measure of honor, as it depicts someone whom the family would show honor had he been present. We honor images of Christ and the Saints in such a way as to show honor to those same individuals or event which the image depicts, knowing that we do not give honor to the wood, paint, or stone, but to the ones deserving of the ultimate honor and worship. To make this point even more succinctly, it is best to employ the oft-quoted St. Basil, “The honor rendered to the image belongs to its prototype.”115
Before launching into the theology of veneration and the workings between icons and their prototypes it is necessary to say something of the vocabulary which is employed by various traditions. In the texts of the Seventh Ecumenical Council (as was shown above) the Greek word denotes the action of bowing down and is generally translated into English as “veneration.” This same word is translated into Latin as veneratio which can be translated into English as “veneration” but also “reverence,” or, interestingly, “worship.”116 This could cause confusion when reading Roman Catholic and Orthodox authors on the subject of images, as what appears to be a difference in theology is just a difference in translation. For Eastern Orthodox it is generally “worship vs. veneration” but for Roman Catholics it could be these words or “adoration vs. worship.” While the actual vocabulary might differ, the underlying theology remains the same, as will become evident in the following discussions.
and the veneration that ought to be given to images of Christ and the saints. “Adoration (worship) is one thing and that which is offered to honor something (veneration) of great excellence is another.”117 In his third discourse on Holy Images, St. John describes seven different types of veneration which are given to various groups of people and things. A certain type of veneration is given to those “in whom God rests,” another to “those things through which and in God worked out our salvation,” (the cross, holy places, etc.), still another holy objects “dedicated to God,” and still another which Christians out to give to each other on account of “their being in God‘s image.”118 This might seem a bit technical, but he is trying to make the point that all of these are venerations which are good and right to do but that none of them are equal to the veneration (read: worship) that ought to be offered to God.
In a word, veneration offered out of fear or desire to honor is a symbol of submission and humility, but no one is to be worshipped as God, except the one who is alone God by nature, to all others what is due is reckoned for the Lord‘s sake.119
And why ought we to venerate sacred images of Christ and the saints?
I venerate the image of Christ, as God incarnate; of the mistress of all, the Mother of God, as the mother of the Son of God; of the saints, as the friends of God, who, struggling against sin to the point of blood, have both imitated Christ by shedding their blood for him, who has shed his own blood for them, and lived a life following his footsteps. I set down in record their brave feats and their sufferings, as ones how have been sanctified through them and as a stimulus to zealous imitation. And I do these things out of respect and veneration. ‗For the honor given to the image passes to the archetype,‘ says the divine Basil.120
The theology is the same on the other side of the aisle. St. Thomas Aquinas writes in his Summa Theologica, employing Aristotelian philosophy:
. . .there is a twofold movement of the mind towards an image: one indeed towards the image itself as a certain thing; another, towards the image in so far as it is the image of something else. . . . Thus therefore we must say that no reverence is shown to Christ’s image, as a thing–for instance, carved or painted wood: because reverence is not due save to a rational creature. It follow therefore that reverence should be shown to it, in so far only as it is an image. Consequently the same reverence should be shown to Christ’s image as to Christ Himself. Since, therefore, Christ is adored with the adoration of “latria,” it follows that His image should be adored with the adoration of “latria.”121
He contrasts the “latreia” given to images with pagan idolatry: the pagans gave worship to images because they thought that the divine was in the image and also because the images that they were worshipping were not of the true God. No Christian reverence is shown to the image itself, as a thing, but rather to Christ‘s image as Christ himself.
The later Council of Trent echoes the words of all these Fathers and Nicaea II when it states categorically:
Moreover, that the images of Christ, of the Virgin Mother of God, and of the other saints, are to be had and retained particularly in temples, and that due honour and veneration are to be given them; not that any divinity, or virtue, is believed to be in them, on account of which they are to be worshipped; or that anything is to be asked of them; or, that trust is to be reposed in images, as was of old done by the Gentiles who placed their hope in idols; but because the honour which is shown them is referred to the prototypes which those images represent. . .122
The current Catechism of the Catholic Church, also proclaims their orthodox theology:
The Christian veneration of images is not contrary to the first commandment which proscribes idols. Indeed, “the honor rendered to an image passes to its prototype,” and “whoever venerates an image venerates the person portrayed in it.” The honor paid to sacred images is a “respectful veneration,” not the adoration due to God alone: Religious worship is not directed to images in themselves, considered as mere things, but under their distinctive aspect as images leading us on to God incarnate. the movement toward the image does not terminate in it as image, but tends toward that whose image it is.123
It has been well established theologically, that icons are to be venerated and that that veneration is passed on to their ultimate prototype. What this means is that the Church recognizes that through God‘s grace and the Incarnation, matter can be used as a conduit for prayer. Bishop Kallistos Ware describes icons as not an end in themselves but rather a “channel of communication.”124 They play a mediational, mystagogical role in the life of the Church, allowing all persons and all times to be mystically present with each other in an eternal ecclesiastical community. Some Roman Catholic authors seem uncomfortable with allowing sacred images to be categorized as “mediators.”125 In the 1913 edition of the Roman Catholic Encyclopedia, Adrian Fortesque remarks that, for the Byzantines, “the icon seems to have been some sort of channel through which the saint was approached; it has almost a sacramental virtue.” Then, a few paragraphs later, he contrasts this with the Roman approach, “On the other hand, in Rome especially, we find the position of holy images explained soberly and reasonably.” In another instance, author and art historian Thomas F. Mathews, in an article on the art of the Eastern Church, described a great “chasm” between the two artistic cultures. He writes, “there is a singular dearth of serious reflection among Latin authors on the relationship of art to religion, and what writing exists on the subject tends to denigrate the role of art.”126 He ends his article by stating categorically, “the image had a psychological power which is difficult for us to understand.”127 While the Eastern Church has engaged in more speculative theology on the subject of images than the West, the same essence remains throughout Christendom.128
Contrary to skepticism of some in the West concerning Eastern practice, this same theology is in present in their own tradition. In his book The Spirit of the Liturgy, Cardinal Ratzinger, now the current Pope Benedict XIV, echoes the same mystical understanding of images that underlies the theology of Nicaea and that has been practiced by faithful Roman Catholics for centuries. He writes:
The image of Christ and the images of the saints are not photographs. Their whole point is to lead us beyond what can be apprehended at the merely material level, to awaken in us new senses in us, and to teach us a new kind of seeing, which perceives the Invisible in the visible. The sacredness of the image consists precisely in the fact that it comes from an interior vision and thus leads us to such an interior vision. It must be a fruit of contemplation, of an encounter in faith with the new reality of the risen Christ, and so it leads us in turn into an interior gazing, an encounter in prayer with the Lord.129
Even Gregory the Great, who is often quoted in support of the “sober” understanding of images believes that there is more to them. As previously mentioned, Gregory used language which can be said to be the seedlings of that which would flower at Nicaea II. He ends one of his letters thusly:
May your Fraternity exhort them (those you have scandalized) to draw from the contemplation of what is represented the ardour of compunction and to prostrate themselves humbly in adoration of the only and all-powerful holy Trinity.130
Earlier in this same letter to Serenus of Marseilles, Gregory I has admittedly inferred that people sin when they “adore” a painting, but in light of this benediction, it is more likely that rather than rejecting veneration of images wholesale, he rejected the adoration of images, as such worship is due to God alone. After all, “prostrate themselves humbly in adoration” sounds a lot like veneration.
How is this not the same theological understanding as is found in the East? Look at how Ouspensky, a well-recognized Eastern writers on the subject of icons, describes the consequences of the relation of image and prototype in the icons. He describes the icons‘ dynamism thusly, “The icon participates in the holiness of its prototype and through the icon, we in turn, participate in this holiness in our prayers.”131
Dogmatics in Color
Since the inception of Christianity, sacred images have been used as a way of communicating information, whether veiled or explicit. All self-documented Christians, even Protestants, agree that images uniquely allow even the most poorly educated among Christians to understand the history and mysteries of the Church and her dogmas. Consider the detailed frescoes on the walls of monasteries in the Middle East, which graphically depict even the moment of the judgment day, or the magnificent Gothic cathedrals of Europe through one can gaze upon the entirety of scripture in one sweeping view. It is through sacred images that Christians are able to not only remember and learn about salvation history, but also participate in it, as they create a “living history” which springs off the pages of dusty books and bring the whole community, past and present, into temporal communion.
If anyone is going to begin a discussion about the didactic use of images in the Church, there is no better place to start that with the writings of Pope Gregory the Great. Writing in the sixth century, he wrote letters to various bishops in which he discusses sacred art, not purely out of theological speculation but rather out practical need. What ought clergy to do with the images in their churches? Gregory writes two oft-quoted132 letters to Serenus of Marseilles, in which he condemns this bishop for the destruction of icons in his Churches.
Painting was made use of in our churches so that those who do not know how to read may at least read by seeing on the walls what they are incapable of reading in books. Your Fraternity ought therefore to have preserved them all, while forbidding that the people adore them. Thus those who are illiterate would have had somewhere whence they could have drunk in knowledge of the text, and at the same time would not have sinned by adoring painting.133
Gregory believes that Serenus ought not have destroyed the images as they are instrumental in instructed those illiterate Christians in the history and theology of the Church. If the Bishop had been worried about his congregations possibly falling into idolatry, as Serenus lived in an area in which paganism was still quite strong, he ought not to have forbidden excessive veneration rather than destroy the images all together. Gregory‘s defense of the didactic quality of sacred images becomes a cornerstone of the Roman Catholic image theology: sacred images are painted scriptures,134 a source of education for those unable to comprehend the Church‘s teachings whether due to illiteracy or language differences.135 Gregory‘s views on sacred images were so well known that they were part of Hadrian‘s defense of Nicaea II against Charlemagne, and indeed continue to be referenced by Roman theologians and bishops alike up until the present day. 136 Although, this is not the only reason for images in the Roman Catholic Church, it is certainly a well-worn apologetic.
St. John of Damascus, in the midst of his theological defense of icons, does not forget to exalt their pedagogical value:
What better proof have we that images are the books of the illiterate, the ever-speaking heralds of honouring the saints, teaching those who gaze upon them without words, and sanctifying the spectacle. I have not many books nor time for study, and I go into a church, the common refuge of souls, my mind wearied with conflicting thoughts. I see before me a beautiful picture and the sight refreshes me, and induces me to glorify God. I marvel at the martyr’s endurance, at his reward, and fired with burning zeal, I fall down to adore God through His martyr, and receive a grace of salvation.137
In this section, he is commenting on a homily of St. Basil for the feast of the 40 Martyrs of Sebaste. For St. John, it is the image, in conjunction with the written and spoken word, which serves to further bring the reality of the Church into the minds and hearts of her people. In the passage directly before this he asks, “Do you see how the function of image and word are as one?”138 He then goes on to quote directly from St. Basil, who has the same idea, just working the other way. “As in a picture, we demonstrate by word.” Word and Image are one, as in the Incarnation, when the Word of God became the true Image of God in humanity. To see an icon is to read the scriptures. The Seventh Ecumenical Council makes this point exactly,
We declare that the holy icon of our Lord Jesus Christ is to be venerated with the same honor as is given to the Book of the Holy Gospels. Just as we all attain salvation through the letters written in the Book of the Gospels, so all of us alike, whether learned or unlearned, benefit from iconography in colour. What the written word proclaims through syllables, iconography proclaims and renders present to us through colours.139
From scripture to sermons to icons back to sermons, ultimately all paths lead to the same source: One sees an image, is reminded about Christ, a saint or salvific event, and from that is moved to glorify God.
Images preserve, for us, “historical reality in the representation of Christ, the saints and the events of the Bible.”140 The raison d’être of icons, the Incarnation, also provides them with their educational significance. Christ was incarnate in history, and it this history which the Church seeks, in Her wisdom, to preserve for her people. Time has a different sort of meaning in the liturgy: Present, past, and future become one. Icons are not merely a reminder, though this quality is by no means to be understated, but they provide a real, tangible link to those persons and events which, though alive in the minds and hearts of the community, may not be physically present with us. It is for this reason that historical reality, in terms of representation images, become paramount. “Only a surrender to the most concrete history,” Ouspensky writes, “can turn an icon into a possible, personal encounter with the person represented, in the grace of the Holy Spirit.”141 Ouspensky here is trying to make a case for the importance of fidelity when it comes to making images. He continues, “Actually, it is not only a matter of transmitting an image consecrated by tradition, but above all preserving a direct and living link with the person whom the icon represents.”142 It is not that icons are meant to be photographs, but if the “honor” is to be passed to the “prototype” there needs, after all, to be some resemblance to the prototype.
One of the more sensitive subjects of sacred art in the Christian Church is Realism. If reality is what the icon seeks to transmit to the believer, what kind of reality is it transmitting? Is it enough to faithfully reproduce historical events, or is there something more at work here? Images of Christ, for instance, are perfect examples of this conflict at work. If, as John of Damascus said, “I depict what I have seen of God,”143 then this means one is depicting the human nature as well as the divine, united together in one person. We have already discussed the importance of depicting the person of Christ, rather than one or the other of His natures, in that to do so would be a fall into heresy. To have a purely historical representation of Christ, one must somehow be able to communicate the divinity in combination with the humanity. Admittedly this has been accomplished to varying degrees of success throughout history, considering the fallibility of the individuals creating them, but it has been accomplished in both the East and the West.
To say that icons are the “Bible of the illiterate” does not mean that this function is somehow only reserved for those to whom the scripture is inaccessible, whether through lack of education or sophistication. The Church, in her orthodox theology, is not elitist in this fashion, though no doubt some have thought her to be so. Sacred images have just as must to do with patriarchs and popes and they do with the “people in the pews.”
Sacred images, as has already been said, are necessary because in the life of the Church they represent, in a physical way, the reality of the Incarnation and humanity‘s integral connection with God through his Son. Anyone who looks at an image of Christ has therefore been educated in the intricacies of the dogma of Chalcedon. This might seem a bit simplistic but it is true nonetheless. But the education does not stop at the theology of the Incarnation. Every sacred image proclaims the Paschal mystery, as does everything in the Church from liturgies to music to the scriptures themselves. And this proclamation invites us in to be a part of its mystery. Pope Benedict XIV explains:
The centering of all history in Christ is both liturgical transmission of that history and the expression of a new experience of time, in which past, present, and future make contact, because they have been inserted into the presence of the risen Lord. . . All sacred images are, without exception, in a certain sense images of the Resurrection and for that very reason they are images of hope, giving us assurance of the world to come, of the final coming of Christ.144
Through sacred images, that our eyes, minds, and hearts are brought to recognition, not merely in an intellectual sense but through a real experiential understanding of what it means to be in the Kingdom. One can read scripture and understand these concepts, but in icons one sees what it means. Ouspensky says that “The icon indicates holiness in a such a way that it need not be inferred by our thought but is visible to our eyes.”145 It is hard to escape what it staring you in the face.
But how do images make this possible? In the rationale for the veneration of sacred images, it was understood that icons are not to be venerated because of their essence, but because they display the image of one whose essence ought to be venerated. A consequence of this reality is that the sacred image becomes a point on convergence between the material and the “Other”. As Evdokimov writes,
The icon gets all its theophanic value from its participation in the Wholly Other; the icon is the mirror of the wholly other. It can therefore contain nothing in itself but rather becomes a grid, a structure through which the Other shines forth.146
Now, admittedly, the theologians of the East, become a bit more speculative, in terms of theological explication and development, in their theology of images than do the theologians of the West. Even so, I think that it is proper enough to say in both traditions images are understood as having an intrinsic relationship with that which they depict and whether they use the term “sacramental” or not, the underlying theology is there. Faithful, East and West, pray before sacred images, they are used liturgically, they are shown to be miraculous, and above all they show a working relationship between matter and its creator. “The icon does not represent the divinity,” says Ouspensky. “Rather, it indicated man‘s participation in the divine life.”147
Sacred images have the real ability to communicate the truth of the Resurrection and the hope of the Kingdom. Ouspensky continues on to say that the true purpose of sacred art is to witness to the “reality of the world and that of God.”148 The reality of God is the Kingdom. “As the image of the sanctification of man, the icon represents the reality which was revealed in the transfiguration on Mount Tabor, to the extent that the disciples were able to understand it.”149 Benedict continues in this same vein:
The icon is supposed to originate from an opening up of the inner senses, from a facilitation of sight that gets beyond the surface of the empirical and perceives Christ. . . in the light of Tabor. It thus leads the man who contemplates it to the point where, through the interior vision that the icon embodies, he beholds in the sensible that which, though above the sensible, has entered into the sphere of the senses.150
To put this all more succinctly it is best to employ the language of the Seventh Ecumenical Council. The Fathers wrote, “Whether it be by the contemplation of the Scriptures or by the representation of the icon. . .we remember all the prototypes and we are introduced into their presence.” The Council of 860 (the “Triumph of Orthodoxy”) continued saying, “What the gospel says to us in words, the icon announces to us in colors and makes present to us.”151 For some, all this talk of interior visions and revealed realities might be getting a bit too complicated for a discussion of art, but that is the beauty of the sacred image: its depth is boundless. Icons make theology present: They are dogma incarnate.
Images in Practice
Sacred images have been well justified theologically over the centuries by both the East and the West. Their validity and veneration was upheld by an Ecumenical Council and seconded by many other local councils. They have been lauded by Popes, Patriarchs, clergy, and laymen and no church or cathedral, even those influenced by Vatican II, can be found lacking at least one icon. But why the need for theological justification and validation in the first place? Did one day some Christian decide that they wanted to draw a picture of Christ and so the Church launched an epic debate as to whether this possible? No. It is no accident that the largest appeals on both sides of the Byzantine iconographic debate were to tradition. Christians had been using images as part of their liturgical lives since the very beginning. It was not a question of should Christians use images, but rather since Christians are using images, should they? In the end, as we now know well, images were validated as part of orthodox Christian tradition, and a big part of this was because they had been used by the Church for so long and had become a part of her life and her people‘s manifestation of their faith.
Early Christian Art is a subject to which many books have been dedicated and much ink has been dedicated. For our purposes it enough to say that through textual evidence as well as an abundance of archeological information, it is clear that images have always been used by Christians. Now, this does not mean that these early communities were making images of the same type as those found in modern day cathedrals. Early Christians created their images with “symbolic and iconic” functions.152 For instance, an image of Jonah in a Roman catacomb drawing was meant to be an allegorical representation of the resurrection. The art of these early Christians also employed more “dramatic portrayals” such as orant figures and Christ or lamb enthroned, all of which were used to proclaim the message of Christianity in a hidden rather than overt manner.153 Many of these images took their inspiration from pagan art of the same period. Christians were using images that they were familiar with in order to communicate their faith.154 Now these are not “sacred images” or “icons” in the sense in which the word has been used in this study, but for our purposes it is important to note that even through these primordial icons do not perhaps have the same complex theological function as those of later Christianity, they still show the propensity for Christians to use art as part a manifestation of their faith.
Christian art was first used and then theologized. Would this fact make it any less an integral part of the Church than scripture or liturgy? Some authors might feel that, because sacred art was what might be best called a “grass roots” movement, this somehow makes it suspect.155 In his discussion on the origins of the Christian image, Leonid Ouspensky quotes one such author who states, “Christian art is born outside of the Church and, at least at the beginning, developed almost against its will. Christianity, springing from Judaism, was naturally, like the religion from which it arose, hostile to idolatry.”156 Now this in itself is not a false statement, for the Church recognizes the fact that, stylistically, her art has been influenced by that of the pagans. John of Damascus defends this saying, “It is not necessary, on account of pagan abuse, to abolish our pious practice.”157 If the Church can “baptize” people can it not also “baptize” their art? Aquinas agrees, “The Apostle forbids us to have anything in common with the “unfruitful works” of the Gentiles, but not with their useful works.”158
Tradition is one of the more powerful foundations on which a church practice can be founded. Think of the theology of sacred images in terms of the scientific method rather than a philosophical argument: Pious Christians used art to communicate and manifest their faith, and it made their Church life richer. People do something (make and venerate images of Christ and the saints); it has a positive effect (miracles, etc.); Then, they keep doing it. Other people see the effects and want to reproduce the “experiment.” Now, of course, sometimes there are aberrations which need to be corrected, but that if why the Church has Ecumenical Councils—to bring the Church together to discuss the way they do things and whether it‘s the right thing or not. Sure, this might seem a tad simplistic, but it is to show that, theology is not made in a vacuum, but by people in their search for understanding and a relationship with God.
The appeal to tradition is a well-established one when it comes to the theology of sacred images. There is, after all, no direct biblical rational for images, so an appeal to Holy Tradition is not only necessary one, but just a valid as an appeal to Holy Scripture, considered their symbiotic relationship. The Fathers of Nicaea II made a clear appeal to tradition:
We, therefore, following the royal pathway and the divinely inspired authority of our Holy Fathers and the traditions of the Catholic Church (for, as we all know, the Holy Spirit indwells her), define with all certitude and accuracy that just as the figure of the precious and life-giving Cross, so also the venerable and holy images, as well in painting and mosaic as of other fit materials, should be set forth in the holy churches of God, and on the sacred vessels and on the vestments and on hangings and in pictures both in houses and by the wayside, to wit, the figure of our Lord God and Saviour Jesus Christ, of our spotless Lady, the Mother of God, of the honourable Angels, of all Saints and of all pious people.159
St. John of Damascus also appeals to tradition:
The eyewitnesses and ministers of the word handed down the teaching of the Church, not only by writing, but also by unwritten tradition. . . Therefore the holy apostle says: “Brethren, stand fast; and hold the traditions which you have learned, whether by word, or by our epistle.” Many things, therefore, being handed down to the Church by unwritten tradition and kept up to the present day, why do you speak slightingly of images? . . I am not to be persuaded that the Church is set in order by imperial edicts, but by patristic traditions, written and unwritten. As the written Gospel has been preached in the whole world, so has it been an unwritten tradition in the whole world to represent in image Christ, the incarnate God, and the saints, to adore the Cross, and to pray towards the east.160
As does Aquinas, using the same quotation from St. Paul:161
The Apostles, led by the inward instinct of the Holy Ghost, handed down to the churches certain instructions which they did not put in writing, but which have been ordained, in accordance with the observance of the Church as practiced by the faithful as time went on. Wherefore the Apostle says “Stand fast; and hold the traditions which you have learned, whether by word”–that is by word of mouth–“or by our epistle”–that is by word put into writing. Among these traditions is the worship of Christ’s image.162
Pope Hadrian IV rebuked Charlemagne for his criticism of Nicaea II using the same rational. “The custom of our catholic, apostolic and Roman Church has been and always is first to anoint sacred images and paintings with holy chrism before giving them over to be venerated by the faithful.”163 Each time these theologians make an appeal to the traditional value of images it is not simply for their existence—it isn‘t just nice to have them around as decoration—but for the honor which the faithful give to them.
So, it is now well established that sacred images have been in use in Christian Churches, but in what sense? As the theology of sacred images has been discussed, certain of their uses have already been alluded to, most notably that of use in prayer, both corporate and personal. Icons, by their very nature, have an intrinsically liturgical function. “It is impossible to understand Orthodox icons outside of their intended place within the sacred space of the church building and the liturgy,”164 writes one Roman Catholic author. Evdokimov describes sacred images, as well as church architecture, as “part of the same body.” “They live in and through a single mystical life,” he says “they are integrated into the liturgical mystery. This is in fact their essential characteristic, and we can never understand the icon outside of this integration. “165But this same idea is true in the West as well. As Pope Benedict confirms, “The image is at the service of the liturgy,” and states emphatically “The ecclesial dimension is essential to sacred art.”166 He continues on to say that,
No sacred art can come from an isolated subjectivity. No, it presupposes that there is a subject who has been inwardly formed by the Church and opened up to the ‗we‘. Only thus does art make the Church‘s common faith visible and speak again to the believing heart.167
Now, what form the ritualization of image veneration will take in a liturgical setting varies according to traditions and even among localities. For instance, in an Eastern Orthodox Church it is common to see a plethora of images in a variety of locations: on walls, on the ceiling, in nooks and crannies, and in windows. At many and various points in the liturgical services, an Orthodox priest will be seen censing and making veneration to the images. In fact there is no liturgical service in which a priest does not cense them. The faithful will also be seen venerating the images in and around the sanctuary. In the Roman Catholic churches, the ritualized veneration may take different forms, perhaps focusing more on the Crucifix and the Blessed sacrament, but the sacred images can still be found in abundance.168 Image veneration can be seen in novenas for the Blessed Mother, stations of the cross, and the countless lighted candles and prayers in front of shrines to saints. The manifestation of the liturgical nature of images may take a different form in different traditions, but it is manifest none-the-less.
“The icon brings about a meeting in prayer,” says Evdokimov.169 It is the icon which makes the presence of the depicted person, whether that be Christ, his Mother, the saints, or even some one from salvific history, present to the viewer, allowing them literally to meet them. It is this meeting which provides at atmosphere and outlet for prayer. These sacred images are “windows to heaven,” bringing the mind of the viewer from the sight of mere material to a higher contemplation—from image to prototype—all by drawing them into the world of the icon. In the words of Pope Benedict,
Their whole point is to lead us from beyond what can be apprehended at the merely material level, to awaken new senses in us, and to teach us a new kind of seeing, which preserves the Invisible in the visible. The sacredness of the image consists precisely in the fact that that it comes from an interior vision and thus leads us to such an interior vision. It must be a fruit of contemplation . . .and so it leads us to an interior gazing, an encounter in prayer with the Lord.170
Every aspect of image theology must be seen as a part of one great whole. Sacred images proclaim the Incarnation, from which they received their theologian validation. They teach us about salvation history and what it means to live in the light of the Kingdom, and they do so by depicting those who are already part of that life and invite us, through a real meeting of image and prototype, to be mystically present liturgically with them. This is the function of sacred images, to be a real and living part of the Church, just as much as scripture and liturgy.
85 By the term “West” I refer to Roman Catholicism rather than Protestantism. Previous to this, in the historical discussions, the term “West” obviously referred to Roman Catholicism, as there were no Protestant views. Image theology in the Protestant Churches as yet is beyond the limits of this paper. 86 Exodus 33:20 87 Exodus 20:23 88 John of Damascus speaks to this, as do the Fathers of the Seventh Ecumenical council, and St. Thomas Aquinas, not to mention later writers such as Ouspensky, Evdokimov, and Pope Benedict XIV. This is one of those arguments which is quite common. It is even mentioned in Charlemagne’s Libri Carolini. 89 Exodus 25:2; 17-21 90 Defense Against Those Who Attack Holy Images I: 16 91 Exodus 25:22 92 Charlemagne, in fact, makes this same argument in the Libri Carolini, when he thinks that the fathers of the Seventh Ecumenical Council were advocating for the worship of images using the Ark of the Covenant as an example. He had the right idea, he just directed it at the wrong people. 93 Evdokimov 189 94 John of Damascus, II: 7 95 John 1:14 96 St. Athanasius, On the Incarnation: 54, pg. 93 97 Ibid, 98 Aquinas, III. 25.5 99 I, 8 100 Benedict, 116 101 Luke 19:40 102 Ouspensky, 152 103 I:16 104 Benedict XIV, 122 105 Against the heretics 1, chpt 2 106 Spirit of the Liturgy, 131 107 Ibid, 152 108 St. Gregory the Great, Letter to Serenus citied in Ouspensky, 154 109 Fortesque, Catholic Encyclopedia 110 Patristic And Byzantine Review 7, no. 1: 16 111 Deuteronomy 6:13; Luke 4:8; Matthew 4:10 112 Danker, 587 (Greek Lexicon) What the Authorized Version of King James translates as “worship” is actually the same verb that the Fathers of the Seventh Ecumenical council use for “veneration.” Since both worship and veneration are due to God, the use of both terms interhangeably in this specific content is not suprising. 113 Fortesque, VI 114 Theology of the Icon, 127 115 On the Holy Spirit, ch. 18 116 Fortesque 117 On Divine Images, 1:8 118 Limouras, 68-69 119 J.D. III:40 120 J.D. I: 21 121 Aquinas, 25:3 122 http://history.hanover.edu/texts/trent/trentall.html 123 Vatican, “Code of Canon Law of the Roman Catholic Church” http://www.vatican.va/archive/ENG0015/__P7F.HTM Footnotes of this text cite St. Basil, Nicaea II, Trent and even Vatican II. To say that the Roman Catholic Church did not recognize Nicaea II would be ludicrous considering it is cited in their own catechism! 124 Ware, 148 125 For Charlemagne’s objections, see above, part 2. 126 Mathews, Thomas F., et al., 1 127 ibid, 21 128 While I would love to embark on a discussion of how the use of images in the Middle Ages, betrays an equitable theology even if some of the more famous writers do not, there is not time in this particular section, though this subject shall be mentioned in the conclusion. I believe that if one looks at how sacred images are used, especially by the more common people, one can see striking similarities to the theology which was proclaimed by the East and which, as has already been shown, was also proclaimed by the West. 129 Pg. 133 130 Lanne, 5 St. Gregory’s letter to Serenus, and other of his opinions on images, shall be discussed in a later chapter. 131 Theology of IconsI, 162 132 Both Charlemagne and Pope Hadrian I used these same letters to advocate for each of their theologies. Charlemagne felt it made his point against worshipping images perfectly, while still preserving art for didactic use, while Hadrian felt that it merely discouraged abuses which might lead to idolatry, rather than abolishing the practice of veneration all together. (Lanne, 4-5) 133 Lanne, 5 134 Art as Scripture (Litterarum taurum primordia DS77) Theology and the Arts pg. 136 135 The Catholic Church was spreading to place where the people didn’t know Latin! 136 Gregory’s writings have been both used to defend and to argue against the use of images in the Church. Charlemagne used it to decry the iconoclasts destruction of images, but also to say that the Byzantines went to far in “worshipping” them. Gregory was also used by Hadrian to defend Nicaea II. 137 Treatise I:47 (pg. 46) 138 Ibid, I:45 (pg. 45) 139 Ware, 154 140 Ouspensky, 167 141 Ibid 142 Ibid 143 Treatise I:16 144 Benedict, 117-18 145 Ouspensky, 162 146 The Art of the Icon, 179 147 Theology of the Icon, 166 148 Ibid, 167 149 Ibid, 162 150 Ratzinger, 121 151 Evdokimov 178 152 Theology and the Arts pg. 137 153 Theology and the Arts pg. 138 154 Fortesque 155 There is a trend among scholars, usually Protestant, of a certain era to assume that because early Christian apologists did not mention images, or indeed disagreed with them (ex. Tertullian), that they were a Greek (read: pagan) influence which crept into Christianity and took hold because of Byzantine Imperialism. See Ouspensky, 39-40 for an interesting defense against such a view. 156 Theology of the Icon, 36 (quoting L. Brehier, L’Art chretien, Paris 1928) 157 Treatise I: 24 158 Summa 3:25:5 159 Definition of the Holy Great and Ecumenical Council, the Second at Nicaea in Sahns, Icon and Logos pg. 179 160 Treatise II: 16 161 2 Thessalonians 2:14 162 Summa 25:3 163 Lanne, 2 164 Rutherford, 62 165 The Art of the Icon, 175 166 Ratzinger, 133 167 Ibid, 134 168 In the conclusion, I will address the subject of the virtual iconoclasm imposed on the Roman Catholic church by the Second Vatican Council. 169 The Art of the Icon, 195 170 Ratzinger, 133
Chapter Five: Conclusions-More Questions than Answers
Sacred Art as Truth: Importance of acknowledging the shared theology
It is now beyond argument to say that the Eastern Orthodox and Roman Catholic Church share a theology of images founded in a mutual acceptance of the Seventh Ecumenical Council. The dogmatic understanding of the value and use of images, which the council had formally accepted, is found manifest in the in the ecclesiastic practice of both traditions. There is no question of formal acceptance. But this is, by no means, the end of the story. As was mentioned at the beginning of this endeavor, there are three “levels,” to image theology. There is, of course, the formal dogmatic level; what the Church says about what it believes which is found the text of Councils and catechism materials. The next level is that of emphasis, that is what aspects of the formally accepted theology is most emphasized by a particular tradition. There are some parts of image theology, pedagogical or sacramental, which particular cultures emphasize more, but not necessarily at the expense of, any other. This is a challenging level to understand in that in picking out particular elements of theology to emphasize, one is teetering very close to the edge of heresy, but this is just the nature of human beings and culture, to grasp on to things they best understand and to agree with others but perhaps not make them their own. The last level is that of theology manifest, something which sacred images are particularly adept at because of the nature of what they are, that is theology literally manifest in physical materials. Christianity is not a mono-cultural religion. As Christ told his followers to go out and “make disciples of all nations” so Christianity “makes disciples” of all cultures, taking from them what is good and true, and “baptizing ” to bring it into her fold. What this means in practice is that different people are going to manifest theology in different ways: An icon in Jerusalem or Constantinople is not going to look exactly like one from Rome or Gaul or England.
When looking at the way in which the “one, holy, catholic and apostolic church” understands, discusses, and makes her sacred art, one is left with many more questions than answers. This chapter will bring up some of those questions, not to give any sort of direct answers, but to begin the discussion in a frank and truthful way.
Christendom is not as whole as it could be; it is fractured and there is no gloss which anyone, no matter how well meaning, could put over all the disagreements to make it look a complete whole. We are, after all, still praying for the “good estate of the holy Churches of God and the unity of all men.” Though we are not there yet, but it is important not to forget where we are. Coming to understand that the East and the West have a shared theology of images isn‘t going to reunite Christendom, but it will go a long way to curb the cultural misunderstandings which so infest the literature on the subject. Understanding that the original “language” of images is the same and it is the translations which differ, rather than their foundations. The truth, as it were, “will set us free.” Free to examine what is really going in the sphere of sacred arts.
Sacred Art as Language: Admitting biases and misunderstandings
The important of cultural, “little t,” traditions to faithful Christians is not something which is to be slighted. These traditions are how people manifest their Christianity, the language through which they have learned to be what they are. Sacred art is at the core of this language. After all it is, as has been discussed, a means of education, a focal point of prayer, and the cornerstone of people‘s daily living of their faith. However, it is one things acknowledge this as a pastoral reality and quite another to treat it as dogma. Christianity does not have a sacred language, for her scripture or for her liturgy or even for her art.
It is important, if one is really to get to the “truth” of icons that one acknowledges that, because of their cultural importance, the discussion of sacred images is often rife with bias and flat out misunderstanding and misinterpretations. East and West, the story is the same. Some advocate one sort of style over another, as in the opinions of Photios Kontoglou:
. . .Kontoglou emphasizes the simplicity, the clarity, the restraint, and the power of Byzantine art. Take, he says, the Holy Virgin painted on Byzantine icons and compare her with the theatrical idol that has been painted in the West and called by the same name. The first is modest, solemn, and venerable; the second is a ‗doll with rings and earrings and a whole lot of unholy and foolish things‘171
Cavarnos also has a similar aesthetic philosophy,
True iconography is opposed to the ideas that art should copy nature. . .To this end the icon painter adheres faithfully to the classical Christian tradition, the Byzantine, employing its consecrated archetypes and techniques. . .172
as does Leonid Ouspensky,
One sometimes hears non-Orthodox, and occasionally even certain Orthodox, say that if the Christian art of the West, that of the Roman Church, leans toward Nestoriansm, the Orthodox icon has nuances of Monophysicitism. What we have already said about the content of the icon permits us to see the absurdity of this statement. Though one can say that western art is really Nestorian because it represents only the human aspect of the sacred, that is, terrestrial reality alone, the Orthodox icon has nothing to do with Monophysitism because it represents neither the divinity nor man absorbed by it.173
This comes from an Adrian Fortesque in the Encyclopedia of Catholicism:
. . .the icon seems to have been some sort of channel through which the saint was approached; it has almost a sacramental virtue. . .On the other hand, in Rome especially, we find the position of holy images explained soberly and reasonably.
Even Vasari had something to say about “traditional” Christian art. He criticized at the art of Medieval period saying that, “over and over again they produced figures in the same style, staring as if possessed, with outstretched hands, on the tips of their toes.”174There is even misinformation about the history of the theology:
. . .eventually, the Church of Rome was obliged to accept the principle advocated in the Libri Carolini and by the Council of Frankfort, and it ended up following the road of innovation by distancing itself from the decisions of the Seventh Council.175
The Fathers of the Seventh Ecumenical Council made no stipulation as to what style Christian sacred images were to employ, simply that they use correct theology. Now, if one is to be honest, one must admit, that in all cultural and ages there have been aberrations when it comes sacred art. Artists of sacred images are fallible and sometimes the unorthodox art they produce can be, at best, the fault of a simplistic piety and at worst, the result of a wish to produce something that is more about propaganda or individual creativity and name recognition than about theology. This is why, at various point in her history, the Church, both East and West, has set boundaries on her artists, sanctioning some images and censoring others.176 The purpose of the sacred images, after all, is to be a useful part of Church tradition and images which are not in accord with that tradition (scriptural, theological or otherwise) cannot be considered a useful part of the whole. But this does not mean that all Christian sacred images have to use to the same style. While any Orthodox will extol the spiritual qualities of an icon which employs a more stylistic and less “natural” aesthetic, God still works miracles through images of a more “natural” style. Take, for instance the miraculous icon of “The Mother of Sorrows” at the Greek Orthodox Cathedral of St. Paul‘s in Hempstead, New York. Though depicted in a thoroughly naturalistic style, not at all “traditional” in a Byzantine sense, the image began weeping in 1960 and since that time has had numberless venerations and documented miracles associated with it. It would appear from this that there is something more to sacred images than a particular artistic style.
Though for the majority of this paper I have shied away from using examples of images, in an effort not to turn this into an art historical or art critical study, I would like to employ two images to best illustrate this point. For the theologian, it is of the utmost importance that a sacred image, especially that of Christ, depict the person of Christ—that is neither depict the humanity or divinity in isolation, but both seamlessly integrated as they were in Jesus Christ. Stylistically this means that hyper-realism is generally frowned upon as it seems to neglect the divine dimension to Christ. It is for this reason that many Eastern Orthodox take great exception to any sacred art which was produced during the Western Renaissance,177 and indeed afterward, as these tend to employ overly realistic techniques. Now, to be sure, certain philosophers, like Aristotle, and enlightenment thought has a great influence on the art of the period and subsequent periods. This is one of those aberrations I spoke over earlier. Was the theology of the Seventh Ecumenical Council employed to the fullest extent? No—but then that is a subject for another study. However, before I digress, it is interesting to note that perhaps, some of this art, even if it was not entirely orthodox in its style, had some pastoral motivation. Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, now Pope Benedict XIV, gives a fair treatment of the subject of sacred art in his book The Spirit of Liturgy. He makes the point that we ought not exaggerate these artistic differences as, at heart, they may have more similarities than a first glance. Take, he says, the famous Grunewald altarpiece, which is an extremely realistic depiction of Christ‘s decent from the cross, of the sort that Eastern Orthodox revile vehemently.
Though Grunewald‘s altarpiece takes the realism of the Passion to a radical extreme, the fact remains that it was an image of consolation. It enabled the plague victims cared for by the Antonians to recognize that God had identified with them in their fate, to see that he had descended into their suffering and that their suffering lay hidden in his. There is a decisive turn to what is human, historical, in Christ, but it is animated by a sense that these human afflictions of his belong to the mystery.178
He goes onto to say that the image, though full of suffering, still bears in it the hopefulness of the Resurrection and that images such as this one, still come out of a sincere mediation on the person of Christ. Isn‘t this the way it ought to be?
Our traditions regarding sacred art are not the same. The foundational theology is indeed the same, but the way in which this theology has been manifest has taken different paths and, as has previously been mentioned, sometimes these paths are positive and sometimes not. Take, for instance, the state of sacred images in the Roman Catholic Church since the Second Vatican Council. The council decided,
The practice of placing sacred images in churches so that they may be venerated by the faithful is to be maintained. Nevertheless their number should be moderate and their relative positions should reflect right order. For otherwise they may create confusion among the Christian people and foster devotion of doubtful orthodoxy.179
According to some Roman Catholic writers, and indeed anyone who has entered a modern Roman Catholic sanctuary, this statement, and the way it was interpreted, amounts to a new iconoclasm. The council statements, along with other modernization movements is said to have contributed to the “ghettoizing of the Christian faith and the marginalization of its aesthetics,” which have “been (at best) marginalized, when it hasn‘t been completely discarded.”180 Pope Benedict, then Cardinal Ratzinger wrote of this new iconoclasm,
The destruction of images, the first signs of which reach back to the 1920s, eliminated a lot of kitsch and unworthy art, but ultimately it left behind a void, the wretchedness of which we are experiencing in an acute way.181
For many Eastern Christians, this is a scandalous notion. To curtail the use of icons out of concern for the faithful is, frankly, a conundrum for most Orthodox, for whom icons are as much a necessity as their Bible. And, it would seem, it is the same for many in the Roman Catholic Church, including the current Pope, who convened the Second International Fota Liturgical Conference at the Vatican in 2009 to “explore the Christian understanding of beauty in sacred art and architecture.”182 There is a movement back toward a true and traditional understanding of Christian sacred images, based in the Seventh Ecumenical council, which has always been heard, but perhaps not loudly enough. This struggle is an important thing to consider from an Eastern point of view, as we ourselves know what it is like to struggle with the knowledge that things in the Church ought to be done in a certain way, but are not.
Sacred Art as Dialogue: Keeping the lines of communication open
At the inter-ecclesial historic congress which took place at Bari (1969), I felt a deep sadness because, in the dialogue between the churches, the importance of Christian art for this dialogue was never alluded to.183
Christian art is the one of the most visible ways in which the Church represents herself to the world, especially in such a visual culture as our own. Icons, of whatever sort, are the physical manifestations by which various traditions define themselves. It is unfortunate that often sacred art is used as a point of separation more than a point of unity. Both traditions look at the art of the other and are confused, uneasy, and in the worst cases hostile. Christian art is something that everyone has access to; that one doesn‘t need a doctorate or a seminary degree to be able to grasp and to employ as part their daily life in the Church. So why ought not it be images which we can use as a point of discussion, a point of agreement and a starting place for dialogue.
With all the answers that have come out in this paper, there are still even more questions. For instance, there is the link between image theology and cultural anthropology. Why do certain cultures pick out certain aspects of image theology to emphasis? Or purely theological: Does there somewhere exist a complete, comprehensive, and inclusive (both East and West) florelegia for modern image theology? Or aesthetic questions: Why is the East so culturally opposed to three dimensional images? Also, could there be an “American” style of iconography which fused the best aspects of historical styles from the East and the West, a sort of Byzantine-Baroque style? And then, in light of the shared theology between East and West, how does one understand Protestantism and their rejection/use of sacred images? The rabbit warren that is image theology is never-ending, but it is most important to be aware of the culture pitfalls and theological misunderstandings and to properly navigate it in a way which will allow sacred images to be seen for what they are—icons of the incarnation.
171 Constantine Cavarnos, Byzantine Sacred Art. Pg 12-13 172 Cavarnos, Orthodox Iconography ,pg.39 173 Ouspensky, 166 (footnote 24) 174 Theology and the Arts pg. 135 175 Ouspensky, 144 176 The councils at Trullo or Quintisext Councils, the Council of Trent, and the Russian Councils 177 It is worth noting that Roman Catholics took great exception as well. In the late 19th century, Pugin and Reichensperger pronounced that Gothic art was the only art which was “truly born of the Christian church” and that anything else relied too much on pagan socio-political influence. Sound familiar? (Rutherford and Twomey, 9) 178 Pgs 127-128 179 Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy, Sacrosanctum Concillium Chapter VII: Sacred Art and Furnishings, Solemnly promulgated by His Holiness Pope Paul VI on December 4, 1963 180 Rutherford and Twomey, 10 181 Ratzinger, 130 182 Rutherford and Twomey, 10 183 Limouris, 130 quoting Constantin D. Kalokyris, La peinture theologie de l’Orthodoxie at le movement oecumenique pg. 561
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Limouris, Gennadios. Icons, Windows on Eternity: Theology and Spirituality in Colour. Geneva: WWC Publications, 1990.
Methodios of Thyateira and Great Britain, “Icons in Patristic Theology and Spirituality Eastern and Western.” Patristic And Byzantine Review 7, no. 1: 17-21.
Nouwen, Henri J. M. Behold the Beauty of the Lord: Praying with Icons. Notre Dame, Indiana: Ave Maria Press, 2007.
Ouspensky, Le onide, and Vladimir Lossky. The Meaning of Icons. Crestwood, N.Y: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1982.
Ouspensky, Le onide. Theology of the Icon. Crestwood, N.Y: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1978.
Ousterhout, Robert G., and Leslie Brubaker. The Sacred Image East and West. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1995.
Pelikan, Jaroslav. Imago Dei: The Byzantine Apologia for Icons. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2011.
Runciman, Steven. Byzantine Style and Civilization. London, England: Penguin Books, 1990.
Sendler, Egon. The Icon, Image of the Invisible: Elements of Theology, Aesthetics, and Technique. Redondo Beach, California: Oakwood Publications, 1988
Theodore of Studios. On the Holy Icons. Translated by Catharine P. Roth. Crestwood, N.Y.: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press
Vrame, Anton C. The Educating Icon: Teaching Wisdom and Holiness in the Orthodox Way. Brookline, Mass: Holy Cross Orthodox Press, 1999.
Western Theology of Icons (Sacred Images)
Aquinas, Thomas. Summa Theologica. New York: Benziger Bros, 1947. <http://www.ccel.org/ccel/aquinas/summa.pdf>.
Bandas, Rudolph G. The Catholic Church and Religious Art: A Collection of Decrees of Ecumenical Councils, Sovereign Pontiffs, and Sacred Roman Congregations on Sacred Art. St. Paul: Wanderer Printing Co, 1963.
Benedict. The Spirit of the Liturgy. San Francisco, CA: Ignatius Press, 2000.
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Bychkov, O. V., and James Fodor. Theological Aesthetics After Von Balthasar. Aldershot, England: Ashgate, 2008.
Bychkov, O V. Aesthetic Revelation: Reading Ancient and Medieval Texts After Hans Urs Von Balthasar. Washington, D.C: Catholic University of America Press, 2010.
Chazelle, Ceilia M. “Pictures, Books, and the Illiterate: Pope Gregory I’s Letters to Serenus of Marseilles.” Word and Image vol. 6, no. 2 (1990): pgs. 138-153
Collins, Gregory. The Glenstal Book of Icons: Praying with the Glenstal Icons. Collegeville, Minn: Liturgical Press, 2002.
Dodwell, Charles Reginald. The Pictorial Arts of the West, 800-1200. New Haven: Yale Univ. Press, 1993.
Erp, Stephan. The Art of Theology Theological: Hans Urs Von Balthasar’s Theological Aesthetics and the Foundations of Faith. Leuven: Peeters, 2004
Fortescue, Adrian. “Veneration of Images.” The Catholic Encyclopedia. Vol. 7. New York: Robert Appleton Company, 1910. 24 Oct. 2011 <http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/07664a.htm>
Fota International Liturgy Conference, D. Vincent Twomey, and Janet Elaine Rutherford. Benedict XVI and Beauty in Sacred Art and Architecture: Proceedings of the Second Fota International Liturgical Conference, 2009. Dublin: Four Courts Press, 2011.
Greeley, Andrew M. The Catholic Imagination. Berkeley, Calif: University of California, 2000.
Hamburger, Jeffrey F, and Anne-Marie Bouche . The Mind’s Eye: Art and Theological Argument in the Middle Ages. Princeton, NJ: Department of Art and Archaeology, Princeton University in association with Princeton University Press, 2006.
Lanne, Emmanuel. 1987. “Rome and sacred images.” One In Christ 23, no. 1-2: 1-21.
Lee, A.D. “Images, Veneration of” New Catholic Encyclopedia. Detroit: Thomson/Gale, 2003: pgs. 323-25
McNamara, Denis R. Catholic Church Architecture and the Spirit of the Liturgy. Chicago: Hillenbrand Books, 2009.
Michalski, Sergiusz. The Reformation and the Visual Arts: The Protestant Image Question in Western and Eastern Europe. London: Routledge, 1993..
Noble, T. F. X. Images, Iconoclasm, and the Carolingians. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2009.
Ousterhout, Robert G., and Leslie Brubaker. The Sacred Image East and West. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1995.
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Vatican, “Code of Canon Law of the Roman Catholic Church” http://www.vatican.va/archive/ENG1104/_INDEX.HTM
Ware, Bishop Kallistos “Praying with Icons,” in Paul McPartlan (ed.), One in 2000? Towards Catholic-Orthodox Unity Slough: St. Paul’s, 1993: 141-168
Seventh Ecumenical Council (and related Byzantine councils)
Acta of the Sixth Session of the Council of Nicaea (787) in D. Sahas, Icon and Logos, pp. 47-96
Ashanin, Charles B. 1988. “Western reaction to the Seventh Ecumenical Council.” Patristic And Byzantine Review 7, no. 1: 59-66.
Alexander, P. The Patriarch Nicephorus of Constantinople. Ecclesiastical Policy and Image Worship in the Byzantine Empire. Oxford University Press, 1958.
Christian Classics Ethereal Library. “Epitome of the Definition of the Iconoclastic Conciliabulum held in Constantinople, A.D. 754.” Early Church Fathers. Grand Rapids, Mich: Christian Classics Ethereal Library, 2000. <http://www.ccel.org/ccel/schaff/npnf214.xvi.x.html>.
“The Doctrine (Horos) of the Veneration of Icons as Formulated by the Seventh Ecumenical Council. – 787” Patristic And Byzantine Review 7, no. 1: 16
Nicephorus, Patriarch of Constantinople. An Eyewitness to History. The Short History of Nikephoros our Holy Father the Patriarch of Constantinople. Commentary by Norman Tobias. Transated by N. Tobias and A.R. Santoro. Brookline, MA: Hellenic College Press, 1989.
Oxford Dictionary of Byzantium. Edited by A. Kazhdan. Oxford University Press, 1998.
(also sections of various sources listed under Eastern Theology)
Charlemagne and the Libri Carolini
Eberhardht, N.C. A Summary of Catholic History. St. Louis: Herder, 1961
Freeman, Ann. Theodulf of Orleans and the Libri Carolini. Cambridge, Mass: Mediaeval Academy of America, 195
Gero, S. “The Libri Carolini and the Image Controversy.” Greek Orthodox Theological Review. 17 (1973): 7-34.
Herrin, Judith. The Formation of Christendom. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1989.
McKitterick, Rosamond. The Early Middle Ages: Europe 400-1000. Oxford [u.a.]: Oxford Univ. Press, 2001.
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(also sections of various sources listed in the Western Theology section)
Theological Aesthetics
Balthasar, Hans U., Joseph Fessio, and John K. Riches. The Glory of the Lord: A Theological Aesthetics. San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 1983.
Brown, Frank B. Good Taste, Bad Taste, & Christian Taste: Aesthetics in Religious Life. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003.
Brown, Frank B. Religious Aesthetics. Macmillan, 1990.
Farley, Edward. Faith and Beauty: A Theological Aesthetic. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2001.
Forte, Bruno. The Portal of Beauty: Towards a Theology of Aesthetics. Grand Rapids, Mich: W.B. Eerdmans Pub. Co, 2008.
Nichols, Aidan. Redeeming Beauty: Soundings in Sacral Aesthetics. Aldershot, Hants: Ashgate, 2007.
Thiessen, Gesa E. Theological Aesthetics: A Reader. Grand Rapids, Michigan: William B. Eerdmans Pub, 2005 (has a number of primary resources)
Viladesau, Richard. Theological Aesthetics: God in Imagination, Beauty, and Art. New York: Oxford University Press, 1999.
General Art and Theology (Art Historical Studies)
Allchin, A. M. Sacrament and Image: Essays in the Christian Understanding of Man. London: Fellowship of St. Alban and St. Sergius, 1967.
Andreopoulos, Andreas. Art As Theology: From the Postmodern to the Medieval. London: Equinox, 2006.
Belting, Hans. Likeness and Presence: A History of the Image Before the Era of Art. Translated by E.Jephott. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1994
Besanc on, Alain. The Forbidden Image: An Intellectual History of Iconoclasm. Chicago [u.a.: Univ. of Chicago Press, 2000
Ceillier, Remy, and Louis-Marie-Franc ois Bauzon. istoire e ne rale es Auteurs acre s Et Eccle siastiques Qui Contient Leur Vie, Le Catalogue e La Critique es iffe rentes E ditions De Leurs Ouvrages. Paris: L. Vive s, 1858.
Diebold, William J. Word and Image: An Introduction to Early Medieval Art. Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 2000.
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Dixon, John W. Art and the Theological Imagination. New York: Seabury Press, 1978.
Dunbar, J V. Why Christ Can’t Be Pictured: God Is Not Like Art. Montgomery, Ala: Grace Bible Pub, 1994.
Garci a-Rivera, Alex. A Wounded Innocence: Sketches for a Theology of Art. Collegeville, Minnesota: Liturgical Press, 2003.
Griffin, Justin. The Truth About Images of Jesus and the Second Commandment: A Study for the Everyday Christian. Mustang, OK: Tate Pub, 2006.
Mathews, Thomas F., John W. Cook, Jonathan Brown, and Osmund Overby. Art and Religion: Faith, Form and Reform. [Columbia, Mo.]: University of Missouri-Columbia, 1986.
Sherrard, Philip. The Sacred in Life and Art. Ipswich, U.K: Golgonooza Press, 1990.
Treier, Daniel J. The Beauty of God: Theology and the Arts. Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2007.
Viladesau, Richard. Theology and the Arts: Encountering God Through Music, Art and Rhetoric. New York [u.a.: Paulist Press, 2000