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3. Windows into Heaven - The Holy Icons by Fr. Chrysostom MacDonnell For it is God who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, who has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ." [IICor.4:6] In the year 843 the Empress Theodora, together with the Patriarch Methodius, restored the use of holy icons to all churches in the Byzantine Empire. So ended a century of dispute on the legitimacy of iconography within the Orthodox tradition of Christianity. For anyone who encounters Orthodoxy for the first time the most noticeable and characteristic feature must be her iconography. Exotic and otherworldly in appearance at first, they perhaps take some getting used to. Certainly, they are attractive and beguiling when considered as works of religious art, but this would be a very facile judgement. Clearly, as one of the central manifestations of the Orthodox faith, lying at the very the heart her religious experience, icons have not only a theological function and meaning, they have a controversial history which is worthy of study. From the earliest days when Christians could gather regularly in the same place, religious paintings and decorations adorned their walls. The art of the latter Graeco-Roman world was evidently carried over into the Primitive Church, supplying a means of visual expression to the nascent faith. In legend, the Apostle and Evangelist, St. Luke, had painted the first icon, an image of the Theotokos, the God-bearer, Mary. Of similar provenance, is the story of King Abgar of Edessa, who, living during the lifetime of Christ, lay desperately sick, yet had heard of the Jewish healer and had asked him to visit. Jesus replied that he was unable to come, but sent instead, his image imprinted on a miraculous piece of cloth. This object, when placed on the king, instantly restored him to health. The cultus of the divine image had begun. By the time of the Emperors Leo III (died 741) and Constantine V (died 775) the opponents of Christian iconography accused the Orthodox of a devotion to the holy icons that had grown in many quarters to exaggerated or even idolatrous ways. A church council in 753 formally ordered the removal of the holy images. The origins and reasons for this controversy are hotly debated amongst scholars: two possible reasons might be, first, an imperial desires to control the Church and second, the influence, through various contacts, of the newly arisen force of Islam. It is no co-incidence that Islam, a religious reversion in many ways to the Old Testament - with its concomitant ban on images - had established itself by this period. Yet laying aside accusations from the iconoclasts of devotional excess, something fundamental was at stake here; something the concerned not merely how churches should be decorated, but something which concerned, as we shall see, the Church’s understanding of her basic doctrines. The years 762 – 775 became known as the ‘Decade of Blood’ as so many Orthodox, especially monks, were imprisoned, tortured and killed for their harbouring and veneration of the holy images. It was a mark of how important the issues at stake were that so many were prepared for martyrdom at the hands of the imperial power. It was only with the accession of the Empress Irene (780-802) that a Church Council, later received as the Seventh Ecumenical Council of the Church, was held, that re-established the holy images and defined their legitimate and proper use in Christian worship. It followed the teaching of the Great Antiochian Orthodox saint, John of Damascus (d.749), arguing that icons may be made and venerated, but not worshipped in themselves. Here we come to the centre of the Christian faith in its Orthodox understanding. For the doctrine of the Incarnation proclaims that God, the Son of God, became man, taking human flesh. God, in his essence, is indeed invisible, but he has been made known and, more importantly for us here, made visible in Jesus of Nazareth. To look upon Jesus is to look upon the Father (John14:8). If we believe this, then it is no more idolatrous to see and venerate Christ in an icon that it was to look upon him and venerate him in the days of his flesh, as did his contemporaries. By extension, to kiss an icon is no more extreme an action than that of the sinful woman who kissed his feet and washed them with her tears in the Gospel. In fact, not only are icons legitimate, from the Orthodox perspective, they are imperative: Christianity without icons is deficient, lacking a real acknowledgement of the Incarnation. If it is legitimate to proclaim Christ in printer’s ink on the pages of the Gospel texts, then it is certainly so in wood and paint. For God became matter, and by extension, he is still proclaimed. God indeed had laid down in the Decalogue that graven images must not be worshipped, yet God had ‘broken’ his own commandment in the Incarnation and graven for himself an image in the face of the Son of Man. Strictly speaking, God the Father and God, the Holy Spirit could not be portrayed in icons, yet it must be remembered that no icon presents the essence or metaphysical being or nature of anything; certainly not the divine essence. Rather, the iconographer presents us with the person (Hypostasis). This is most important to remember. Similarly with the saints, whether the Theotokos, the God-bearer, or the other saints, those who now bear the divine nature and have won the victory; they too, the Council decreed, may be iconographically portrayed and honoured. Thus, as Council defined, "…the honour rendered to the image ascends to the prototype, and he who venerates an icon adores the person." Just as the lover holding a photograph of the beloved, will kiss it tenderly ‘goodnight’, as if kissing the object of their affection. The attacks on the Iconodules by the Iconclasts lasted with fearful persecutions until, as we have said, the year 843. The holy images have remained an integral and unassailable part of Orthodox experience ever since in churches, homes, businesses, and schools; anywhere the Orthodox find themselves. I do not intend in this lecture to describe the artistic techniques of iconography apart from pointing out that there are clear canons regarding what is and what is not an icon within the authentic tradition. There have been in recent years considerable moves to recover that authentic style following the often romanticised and debased forms produced in the nineteenth century. Clearly, icons should be painted in egg tempora on seasoned wood upon a base of gesso ( ground chalk). However, lithographic reproductions often serve in churches and homes, but only as a second best. We are more concerned, here therefore, with how icons are used within Orthodoxy and with their inner meaning. When you gaze into the face of an icon you are viewing the universe inside out. Your perspective is reversed and your starting point is infinity, looking back, so that the parallel lines splay outwards rather than appearing to join at some vanishing point. This reverse perspective is not always evident, but can be particularly marked in icons featuring the lines of buildings or items of furniture in their background. Without the proper religio-cultural appreciation of the place of the holy images, it is all too easy to misunderstand them. Either to dismiss or condemn them as idols, breaking the command of God, or perhaps, merely to see them as works of religious art, decorating church walls or, at least, simple aids to prayer for simple people. In fact, you yourself, imagining at first that you are the viewer, come to see some work of art, some picture on a wall, become instead the object: it is the icon that is looking at you; you are the one being inspected and you must stand before the holy images humble, penitent; a supplicant entreating the mercy of heaven. It is precisely this humble approach, mentally, spiritually and even physically, as we shall see, that differentiates between the Orthodox and heterodox appreciation of the holy icons. It is too easy, being all too human, to forget this, but when we stand before the holy images we are in the presence, not of great art but rather, of great and holy persons. Indeed, it would be more correct to say that the making of icons is, in reality, not an art form at all but a work of Theology. The iconographer, as the word implies, writes the image of the person depicted, not with ink on paper like the Evangelists, but with paint on wooden boards. The image of the second person of the Holy and Life-giving Trinity is clearly proclaimed in the Gospels. Likewise, his image shines forth from his icons. Ever since the Annunciation, the invisible Godhead whose image could not be graven according to the commandments of the old dispensation, has now taken concrete, material form. Not only was this form shown forth in the God-Man, the one known to history as Jesus of Nazareth, it is now continually held in honour in visible form, painted, cherished and worshipped in the holy churches of God. In short, icons have their raison d’etre in the dogma of the incarnation; to deny the veneration due to the holy images is ultimately to doubt the reality of the coming in flesh of the creator of matter Himself. Divinity, as ever, remains in itself invisible, un-graven, un-represented, whether in words or paint. Even the Gospels demand faith on the part of the reader, written "from faith for faith". The icons, on the other hand, aim to bring us into the presence of the persons depicted, whether those of the Godhead Himself or the persons of the saints whose very humanity itself is revealed as transfigured in the uncreated light of grace. Standing humbly before the holy icons, we too come into the presence of that same transforming light. The troparion, or hymn recited before the Icon of the Saviour runs: We reverence Thy sacred icon, O gracious Lord and ask forgiveness of our transgressions, O Christ our God, for of Thine own good will Thou wast pleased to ascend the cross in the flesh that Thou mightest deliver from bondage to the enemy those whom thou hast fashioned. Wherefore we cry aloud unto Thee with thanksgiving: Thou hast filled all things with joy, O our Saviour for Thou didst come to save the world. If we take the example of the icon Christ the Teacher, we see Christ staring out at us, his hand raised in blessing. He wears a red inner-garment and a green or blue outer-garment. We have many teachers on earth, but Christ tells us in the Gospel (Matt. 23:8) that we have but one teacher, Christ himself. He is portrayed in these icons, book in hand, as the true master. This is not to denigrate our earthly teachers, but to point out that ultimately the only teaching that will really matter will be that which forms Christ within us and brings us to salvation. Here, the divinity of Christ is clearly indicated in the red under-robe; red once again the imperial, divine colour. Yet, in the incarnation, Christ became Man and took on our human nature, revealed in the outer garment, the one he has put on. This reflects the dominant blue-green colour, the sphere of our own earthly dwelling. The fingers on right hand, held up in blessing, take up the form of the Greek letters which spell the name Jesus (IHSOUS). Next, we might consider an icon of the Theotokos, the God-bearer, Mary. This title, affirmed by the Fourth Ecumenical Council of the Church, points, again, to the reality of the incarnation. Within the canons of Orthodox iconography, these holy images of Mary portray and proclaim a mystery beyond human comprehension. We must not see these them in psychological and sociological terms, attempting to understand what is going on here in terms of, for example, the elevation of the feminine ideal, or of seeing the Virgin as the apotheosis of the Byzantine princess, benignly pleading for the subjects of the empire. This would be to miss the point entirely. For Orthodox Christians, the Theotokos, the God-bearer, is truly of our race, but she is enthroned now, for by the fullness of grace she became the one who was most intimately connected to our Saviour through her motherhood. Any true icon is a symbol in the Eastern Orthodox sense, being not a stand-in for something absent but rather, the physical manifestation of something truly present in the Church. It is this dynamic understanding of symbolism which differentiates between much of the Orthodox understanding of Christianity and other traditions. We shall hear more of this next time when we study the Sacraments in the Orthodox Church. There is no special or separate cultus of Mary in the Orthodox tradition. Rather, her veneration is interwoven throughout all the church services and she is frequently referred to and invoked in the liturgical texts. We recognise her as both an integral part of the Church and the most highly venerated member of it. Moreover, she is regarded as the most blessed of all human beings in the kingdom of God. Notice the colours here; traditionally, they are the reverse of Christ’s colours. He outer garment is red, the sign of divinity, for she has been made full of grace by God, but the inner garment is green or blue, the prevailing colour of the earth to show that she is human by nature, just like us. With this understanding it follows that great veneration is afforded the holy images in church and at home. Their presence is surrounded with what, at first, must seem to outsiders an elaborate etiquette. Yet from within, this is most natural. On coming into church, for example, the faithful will greet the icons, first performing the metanoia, [bowing from the waist to touch the earth and making the sign of the cross] then greeting the persons depicted with a kiss. Candles, likewise are burnt before the icons in honour of their glory, reflecting on earth the light and glory with which they shine in heaven. The icons are censed by the deacon and priest during the Divine Liturgy, this being a mark of honour and respect, offering worship through these earthly symbols. And yet again, the people and clergy are also censed, worshipping God through his image within the human person. The holy icons are therefore not just a reminder, but a constant indication that the Saints are watching our progress through this life, praying for us and bidding us on, like those who have run their part in a relay race and have passed the baton on to us. In the homes of the Orthodox it is a traditional and pious custom to set up ‘an icon corner’. This might range from a couple of images fixed to a wall where the family recite their daily prayers, to a considerable item of furniture with folding panels, bearing several icons; Christ, his Mother and the family’s patron saints. What are we to make of all this? Clearly, talking as we do in different paradigms, Orthodox piety will not convince the most ardent puritan Protestant, who is as vehemently opposed to the veneration of images as the most fundamentalist of Muslims. But no phenomenon may be comprehended outside the structures of its own milieu. God, we claim, walked in the Roman province of Judea two thousand years ago, yet he is with us to the end of the age. After the Ascension, Pope St. Leo the Great (6th Cent.) attested, Christ’s physical presence passed over into the sacraments. We shall, of course, explore this next time. But the Orthodox assert, also, that his person is still made manifest in the holy images. He is, still among us. This has not always been appreciated in the Western Church and it is only now that icons are beginning to gain popular esteem amongst Roman Catholics over and against their traditional, three-dimensional statuary. Yet this is by no means an alien idea. When St. Augustine first came to Britain at the end of the Sixth Century, proclaiming the Christian faith in East Anglia under the command of Pope St. Gregory the Great, he and his fellow monks, approached the pagan court, as St. Bede tells us, bearing before them a processional cross and also an image of the Saviour, painted on a board. The mission among the English was led by an icon… |
