“You were without hope in the world.” This is how Paul describes the Ephesian Christians before their conversion, stuck in the darkness of sin and paganism. Idols expressed their hope for material security, embodying their pleasure and pain, hopes and terrors in tangible forms that entangled their souls. Christ brought divine light into a dark world, freeing it from false substitutes and answering humanity’s prayer to look on the face of God: “Your face, Lord, do I seek. Hide not thy face from me” (Ps 27:8-9).
Today, we forget this answered prayer, looking away from God and falling into what the Psalmist warns against: “I will not set before my eyes anything that is base” (Ps 101:3). Our image-saturated culture has lost sight of God’s face made visible to us in Christ, groping instead after new idols. Sins of the eyes draw us into a new slavery that will not tolerate rivals, leading to a strange new iconoclasm. Our fallen eyes refuse to look upon religious images, which increasingly have become targets of vandalism and arson.
The historian Philip Jenkins notes that today’s iconoclasm engages more than religious imagery, becoming a “condemnation of memory” (198). His recent book, A Storm of Images: Iconoclasm and Religious Reformation in the Byzantine World (Baylor University Press, 2023), connects the attack on images in the Roman Empire over a thousand years ago to today’s social revolution. Statues toppling in city parks symbolize the more general vandalism that occurs in education against our cultural inheritance, touching central aspects of our identity. Jenkins explains the significance of the fact that we “no longer have the will or ability to prevent the removal of such once-cherished things,” which “proclaims the end of an old world and the creation of a whole new order of society and politics” (200).
The attack on images in Byzantium or Western Europe during the Reformation pointed to such revolutionary change. Today’s shift in how we see things—moving from traditional conceptions of human life, family and happiness to the flux of individual self-assertion—represents a different kind of iconoclasm, refusing to allow a mediation of reality through traditional conceptions of truth, visual or verbal. Images maintain their importance, but now as a matrix of floating possibilities we use to create our own virtual reality.
Human beings cannot help looking at things. Without concentration and focus, the flood of images leads to distraction and even despair. We fall back to the darkness described by Paul, living without hope, and need to come to the same solution: rediscovering the face of Christ. In a book releasing this month, The Exorcist Files: True Stories About the Reality of Evil and How to Defeat It (FaithWords), Father Carlos Martins points to the power of images to remove us from our spiritual darkness:
Praying with images can be especially helpful, especially during sexual temptation. Traditionally called visio divina (divine looking), holy images—images depicting Our Lord, the Blessed Virgin Mary, a saint or a biblical scene—drive out tempting images that compete for our attention. In Catholic tradition, holy images, especially icons, are visible prayers. Simply to gaze at such an image is prayer. (258-259)
Holy images can save us from spiritual despair, becoming a source of light in our darkened culture.
Sally Read’s follow-up to her successful conversion memoir, Night’s Bright Darkness, offers a powerful example of this illumination. In The Mary Pages: An Atheist’s Journey to the Mother of God (Word on Fire, 2024), she details how the residual Marian art of our culture guided her slow and tortuous steps to faith.
“How many glimpses of Mary I must have had without even realizing it. . . . But that was how Mary got in—not through statues or cute Christmas cards, not through prayers or teaching or through a historic wheel, but through those pictures” (4). And after getting in, there were many obstacles to overcome.
Read’s obsession with images allowed Mary to move from the art gallery to the heart. “I would always end in room 58, at Filippo Lippi’s Annunciation. . . It was a shame, I reflected, that the subject was religious. But I had to admit, as I sat down and gazed, that in the light and pounding of the city, here was silence” (17). But the painting stayed with her: “I kept the Lippi picture hanging up by my door, and for many years, in various ways, Mary’s presence continued to weigh on me—and, even more so, her silence” (40).
Interestingly, Read touches on a key tension of iconoclasm, connecting the age-old tension of depicting the divine to its implication for our own identity, made in God’s image:
But imagine a painter sitting down to paint the face of God Almighty—the is, the everything—and being able to contemplate nothing but vapor and light. But then this artist finds himself painting a human face with deep eyes, with a long nose, with ears that might ache in the wind, with feet that might sting with blisters from the long walking. Jesus Christ is how God sees himself. Christ is the icon of God. We’re clothed in flesh in a similar way, and we’re icons of the Creator too; dirtied, spoiled—but, through Jesus, utterly redeemable. (58)
Our contemplation of the face of God and how we understand ourselves are inextricably bound together. Iconoclasm, therefore, degrades our own self-understanding by destroying our ability to contemplate the divine with our eyes, which leads to the destruction of his image in us.
God has made himself visible to us, and we need to rediscover his face. We need images of the right sort to purify our vision and overcome the iconoclasm that threatens our lives as God’s icons in the world.
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About Iconoclasm, the persecution began in the early 8th-century and lingered for a long time. Quite likely influenced a bit by Islam which rejected the self-revelation of the (inscrutable) Allah “in the flesh” (Jn 1:14) as the incarnate Jesus Christ, second person of the Triune One? Instead, the Qur’an…
In the 21st Century, Christian evangelization might be more iconoclastic than it is, that is, in clearly opposing ideological images or projects to “immanentize the eschaton,” or even to dissolve the divine liturgy of the Church into a sort of “project Church” fabricated by our own uplifted hands and voices.
Interestingly, Bernadette of Lourdes is reported to have used a specific word in the patois dialect (she did not speak French) to indicate the apparitions at Lourdes. She said “aquero” with the accent on the final syllable and not on the second, meaning “that thing” and not “that thing—there”. Biographer Rene Lauarentin explains that her meaning was something like “negative theology” attuned to the radical otherness of the Divinity and of all “things” heavenly (“Bernadette of Lourdes,” translated by John Drury, Winston Press, 1979).
So, iconoclasm erred in actually prohibiting images, but this does not mean that the alternative use of images–while not a heresy—is free of possible and alternative misunderstanding or excess. What does it fully mean about the validity and the limitations of the finite human imagination when the Christian St. Paul, invoking an expression from even the Classics, reminds us: “no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man imagined [!], what God has prepared for those who love him” (1 Cor 2:9)?
Still, and with Dr. Staudt, it is most helpful in resisting seductive temptations by simply replacing the distracting image with some other and pure image.
While I agree with you, I need to add my input. I have a very large collection of medieval and Renaissance illuminated manuscripts and Books of Hours. The imagery in these manuscripts and illuminations in the Book of Hours represented images and symbolism in a world that was devoid of imagery unlike today where we are bombarded consciously and subconsciously with image, etc. They were never to replace the representation of the image or underlying gospels and spiritual messages but to support the focusing and, thus, devotion to what they represented. This is what we have to remember. Icons are a representation and not an end to itself. They promote devotion to the underlying beliefs and not replace them. That is what is confusing about the article and the reply. By the way, I do numerous exhibitions with detailed explanations of the item displayed and, tragically, find Anglicans, Lutherans and other Protestants more interested in the symbolic spiritually of the art than Catholics who are so ignorant about our Church’s artistic history and its real meaning.
While I absolutely agree with you re: the images are not the end in themselves, because of my experience within the Roman Catholic Church, I must clarify something important. In my experience, the majority of the Roman Catholics (not Byzantine Catholics and other Eastern Churches) are ignorant of the VII Ecumenical Council which formulated the theology of the holy images and their place in the life of the Church. Not knowing about this Council may explain the lack of due reverence for such images, not taking them seriously (like a case with Rupnik and his art) and also that many people seem not to understand how beneficial it is to use them in prayer.
I will leave here a quote:
The Council’s Proclamation:
“We define that the holy icons, whether in color, mosaic, or some other material, should be exhibited in the holy churches of God, on the sacred vessels and liturgical vestments, on the walls, furnishings, and in houses and along the roads, namely the icons of our Lord God and Savior Jesus Christ, that of our Lady the Theotokos, those of the venerable angels and those of all saintly people. Whenever these representations are contemplated, they will cause those who look at them to commemorate and love their prototype. We define also that they should be kissed and that they are an object of veneration and honor (timitiki proskynisis), but not of real worship (latreia), which is reserved for Him Who is the subject of our faith and is proper for the divine nature, … which is in effect transmitted to the prototype; he who venerates the icon, venerated in it the reality for which it stands.”
The word “contemplated” is very important; it is also said that looking at the image of the Our Lord, Virgin Mary and Saints is love-inducing. Yes, it is so. I once met an ex-Protestant who converted to Orthodoxy via walking into the Orthodox church by accident. He was struck both by the icons and also by the fact that people actively engaged with the holy images. To him it conveyed the invisible reality. The VII Ecumenical Council connected the holy images with Incarnation. He is incarnated – we can depict Him; since then, the Eastern Church understood icons to be a statement of the reality of the Incarnation. Hence the special ascetic rules for an iconographer.
Anna, in my opinion Catholics don’t appreciate the imagery in Sacred Art not because they’re unaware of Vatican Council II document (which they are) but because in the past 50+ years, the Church has allowed its culture to be seeded with the values of secular atheism which promotes man as God.
I think there’s more to it Deacon. There was a real post-Conciliar iconoclaste movement tearing down sanctuaries and casting plaster statues into skips. This was post-conciliar imolementation of the spirit of v2: a Freemasonic Spirit achieving the goals of the French Revolution 1789. For Marcel Lefebvre 1962-1965 was World War three, and everything we bemoan merely nuclear fallout.
Deacon Edward,
I did not say that Catholics are unaware of Vatican II Council. I said they are often ignorant of the VII Ecumenical Council (Nicea, 787 AD).
Richard of St. Victor enlightens us that “love is the faculty of seeing.” And, such seeing is the path out of even those dark caverns in the mind that come after a spouse has been lost—and passed through the veil. A loss so permanent and irreversible.
What do we see in the seeing eyes of the icons, unblinking, and looking back at us?
“The mystic Teresa of Avila tells us that ‘the veil’ is a product of our imagination. In seeing through the eyes, not merely with the eyes [William Blake], the Byzantine Rite complements the more familiar Latin or Roman Rite and culture of the West. Here, the spirituality of Marian transparency and self-abandonment, so woven through the Byzantine liturgy and the Eastern Churches, supplies the second lung so valued by John Paul II when he challenges the whole Church and the West to breath again with both lungs (his mother was Byzantine Catholic) [….]
“Surrounding me on the walls and ceiling were icons, just as marriage itself is an icon. Visual icons painted free of earthbound visual perspective, free of time and space, free of the minuscule present. Eternity seen through the moment, like the reality of marriage ‘from the very, very beginning’” (Peter D. Beaulieu, “Kristi: So Thin is the Veil,” Crossroad Publishing, 2006).
Icons…It’s not true to contextualize even the Good News, as with the myopic “time is greater than space,” or vice versa.
As I see it, our world is progressively becoming more and more impersonal and fragmented, devoid of meaningful human connection. The images around us reflect it: they are becoming flatter, one-dimensional, done for a brief glance at them while walking – unlike icons which require a long time to really see them. They are very much like people in this respect, it is not enough to say “How are you” and continue walking to connect with another – one needs to stop, sit down and talk looking into the other’s eyes, making an effort to see the soul.
Good icons of Jesus Christ show the Person Who is seeking to engage with YOU. In this respect, Christ on icons is very much like Christ in the Gospels Who went out of His way to engage with the other on a deep personal level. This is the primary function of an icon, to pull one into the presence of the depicted, enabling him to respond. It is really simple. At least this is how I see my own work, of an iconographer.
Speaking of the icon of Christ Pantocrator from Sinai (shown here) to me it is the absolute reference, a prototype. I read speculations about how the difference between the left and right sides of the face of Christ reflect His double nature, one half represents human and another – divine but I do not share this view. First, Our Lord’s nature cannot be seen separately, they are both in His Person and the icon depicts His Person. Second – and this is remarkable – the Face on the Sinai icon of Christ and the Face on the Turin Shroud match absolutely. If you superimpose them, you will see (there is a website somewhere that shows it). Finally, so-called “Fayum portraits” were utilizing the same way of depiction. Expressionists often did the same, especially Modigliani. It makes a face very alive, with endless expressions. So, there are plenty of asymmetrical portraits around but none of them overlap with the Shroud like Sinai icon does. I will add that the majority icons preserve proportions of the Sinai prototype – at least it is what I have seen.
I diverted. My point was: yes, there is an iconoclasm present, in a very postmodern way via not destroying meaningful images but via overwhelming the mind by shallow, impersonal images. They corrupt the mind, resulting in a person losing his ability to perceive anything deep, true and truly beautiful. Icons, especially the icons of Christ, are the tools/ weapons against this depersonalization, fragmentation and absurd because the gather and rebuild the person who looks at it (if he looks for long enough, with a prayer, preferably with an icon being slightly above his eyes level – just like one would relate to Christ if he saw Him). It probably explains the fact of violence against true icons even nowadays.
Anna, the irony of your quote from V2 is that not only are today’s Catholics unaware of that teaching, but so were the iconoclastes of the Aggiornamento who butchered statues and tore down sanctuaries in the name of V2. It is a lie to insist that this was the result of a media council: the iconoclastes were armed with post-conciliar decrees.
When Benedict distinguishes between the “real” Council and the “virtual” Council of the media, perhaps he is simply identifying the root source of such stuff as the “post-conciliar degrees.”
As a participant at the Council, perhaps Benedict is not indulging in “a lie” as some seem to imply, but rather exposing the lie. Here there is no dispute that Cromwell’s termites have been on the rampage in the days and years and decades after the real Council.
But, this too:
During the Council and when Pope Paul VI learned that he was being betrayed–the insertion into Lumen Gentium of fluid language to be exploited later–he broke into tears, and caused the clarifying Explanatory Note to be added to the affected Chapter 3.(Have a look, but its curiously placed at the very end of the entire Constitution).
About such transparent news, and unlike the spin from media darling Hans Kung & Co., Rev. Ralph M. Wiltgen affords a fine-grained look at the daily working so Council members during those three years (1962-65), and the actual voted Documents (“The Rhine Flows into the Tiber,” 1967). Wiltgen, a professional historian and valuable fly on the wall, published a daily newsletter of the Council is six languages, reporting the actual proceedings of the Council (his Council News Service which went to 3,000 subscribers in 108 countries).
Yes, sausage in the making! But then there came the much-needed twenty-year course correction (signaled by the still relevant “Ratzinger Report,” 1985). The concise “Final Report” of the 1985 Extraordinary Synod of Bishops (a genuine synod of bishops!), was convened by Pope John Paul II precisely to reclaim and protect the real Council from unbalanced and even “divergent interpretations.”
Probably not on the reading list of backroom synodalists, this clarity about the “hierarchical communion” of the apostolic Church, and all that faithful and “rigid” sorta stuff.
So Peter, you are suggesting the Vatican wrote the post-conciliar decrees which ordered the devastation because the dicasteries were influenced by the media.
An alternative hypothesis is that from the 1700s until 1958 the Popes were increasingly alarmed and writing entire encyclicals concerned with the Freemasonic plot to radically transform the Church via infiltration.
Silence on the subject 1958-1983.
QED?
About the various icon images of Christ Pantocrator, the case is made that these bear a striking resemblance to the image of Christ on the Shroud, which was accessible in the earliest years (and therefore imitated?).
Identifying 15 facial features on the Shroud, Ian Wilson (“The Shroud of Turin: The Burial Cloth of Jesus Christ?,” Image, 1979) compared these features to facial icons from the 6th, 8th, 10th, 11th and 12th centuries. For the 11th-century icon at Daphini, he finds that only two markings are missing (the accentuated left and right cheeks). Accompanying a photo of the Shroud negative, he writes: “The cloth Byzantines called the ‘Mandylion’ disappeared in the thirteenth century. The cloth we call the ‘Shroud’ appeared in France in the fourteenth century. Could they have been one and the same thing?”
The Mandylion portrait is shown to be the Shroud folded and framed in such a way as to obscure all but the portrait. Wilson’s detailed history speculates that at the beginning, the recently-Jewish custodians of the burial cloth contrived the back-folded portrait as a way of preserving the whole cloth, but without displaying the full burial cloth–as possibly violating lingering scruples as unclean and as even a prohibited image in contrast with the Second Commandment.
A wealth of other historical and forensic information, and much more in later publications (Shroud of Turin Research Project (STURP); Wilson, “The Blood on the Shroud,” Touchstone, 1998; the inaccurate and later discredited Carbon-14 test from the late 1980s, etc.).
SUMMARY: Agreement with Anna, that there’s a better explanation of the Pantocrator icon than as an image of a schizophrenic Christ.
TO EVERYONE: VII is NOT Vatican II. It is VII (Seventh) Ecumenical Council.
I was speaking of the Seventh Ecumenical Council which took place in Nicea, 787 AD. The quote is from its documents.
Theology of the holy images was formulated in Nicea and was a victory over iconoclasm.
Another quote:
“Anathemas concerning holy images
1. If anyone does not confess that Christ our God can be represented in his humanity, let him be anathema.
2. If anyone does not accept representation in art of evangelical scenes, let him be anathema.
3. If anyone does not salute such representations as standing for the Lord and his saints, let him be anathema.
4. If anyone rejects any written or unwritten tradition of the church, let him be anathema.”
(Council Fathers – 787 A.D.)
VII, in Catholic circles, is commonly understood as “Vatican II”. For better or for worse.