Responding to Orthodox Arguments for Icons

This is part of a series in which I respond to the claim that the veneration of icons is a Christian practice. This article contains responses to what I consider the less consequential arguments for the veneration of icons.

Since I intend this article series to be comprehensive, I want to respond to all the common or convincing argumentation that’s being offered today. However, there are so many of these arguments that they were cluttering my main points, so I’m giving them their own article.

Positive Arguments for Icons

As I said earlier, I’m not doing this as a polemical exercise, but because I honestly want to know whose position is correct. So in this section, I’ll evaluate what I see as the best evidence and arguments for the other side.

In this section, I’ll discuss an evidence-based argument for iconodulia. I think that’s the strongest approach, since the argument against iconodulia is also an evidence-based one. In the next section, I’ll discuss multiple arguments for iconodulia that are mainly based on a priori arguments and assumptions.

This case is best expressed, so far as I can find, by Craig Truglia of Orthodox Christian Theology. Though there’s significantly (vastly!) more evidence against iconodulia than for it, I appreciate his argumentation, because it takes the call to provide evidence seriously. Sadly, it seems that few Eastern Orthodox have taken the time to evaluate the relevant evidence; most of the arguments I have to deal with in this series of articles are rather misinformed.

To be clear—An evidence-based case for iconodulia only works if you can deconstruct enough of the evidence against iconodulia that the evidence for outweighs the evidence against. Since there is so much evidence that before 313, the veneration of images was not a legitimate Christian practice, this has never been done that I know of. Typically, those who present evidence-based cases for iconodulia only deal with a few pieces of evidence or one argument from the other side. To my knowledge, no one has responded in full to the argumentation presented here.

Individual Texts Used as Evidence

Painting of the Good Shepherd on Communion Cup

In “On Modesty,” Tertullian describes paintings of the Good Shepherd and his sheep on Eucharistic cups. Since that image is present in a liturgical context, does it provide evidence that images were venerated?

Obviously, such an image would appear in a liturgical context, but there seems to be no mention of its being venerated or having a liturgical purpose. One would think that Tertullian, who often shows a very inflexible stance, would have been pounced on such veneration as something to mention and criticize, if it had been occurring.

Spurious Acts of John

The book “Acts of John,” which is spurious and a Gnostic-leaning work from the second century, describes a man performing iconodulia.

I don’t see why we need to give a Gnostic source any weight one way or another. In some areas the Gnostics agreed with the Christians, and in some areas they didn’t. So whether or not they held a belief is not evidence for what Christian leaders taught. Additionally, it seems to take a position against iconodulia, since it represents the apostle John criticizing the man who did it, so it’s hard to see how it helps the position of iconodulia in any other way, either.

Spurious Council of Antioch

According to legend, the apostles held a council at Antioch as well as at Jerusalem. The spurious canons of this council state

That those who are being saved should no more go astray to idols but are to fashion for themselves the theandric [divine and human], undefiled, not made with hands, the pillar of the true God and our Saviour Jesus Christ and of his servants, as opposed to idols and to Jews, and are no more to go astray to idols, nor to imitate the Jews. (Canon 4)

This document could be read as a command to create images of Jesus, however “not made with hands” suggests that this “pillar” is to be different from idols, which are made with hands. Alistair Stewart, from whose article this translation comes, agrees with Adolf Harnack that “the canon is far from an appeal to carve statues of Christ in opposition to idols, as it had been interpreted [in the Second Council of Nicaea], but rather a spiritual exhortation to the hearers to form themselves after Christ and his saints.”¹

But . . . there’s a much bigger problem with this quotation. It’s not even from before 313. Instead, Stewart dates these canons to the 4^th century and suggests that these canons are “a product of the latter 3rd of the 4th century” which would be after 366.² But even if this text were from before 313, why would we give a spurious document credibility over mainstream Christian writers?

Christian Idol Makers

This following quote by Tertullian has been raised as evidence that Christians had images that Tertullian considered idols:

If no law of God had prohibited idols to be made by us; if no voice of the Holy Spirit uttered general menace no less against the makers than the worshippers of idols; from our sacrament itself we would draw our interpretation that arts of that kind are opposed to the faith. For how have we renounced the devil and his angels, if we make them? . . . Can you have denied with the tongue what with the hand you confess? unmake by word what by deed you make? preach one God, you who make so many? preach the true God, you who make false ones? “I make,” says one, “but I worship not;” as if there were some cause for which he dare not worship, besides that for which he ought not also to make,—the offence done to God, namely, in either case. Nay, you who make, that they may be able to be worshipped, do worship; and you worship, not with the spirit of some worthless perfume, but with your own; nor at the expense of a beast’s soul, but of your own. To them you immolate your ingenuity; to them you make your sweat a libation; to them you kindle the torch of your forethought. More are you to them than a priest, since it is by your means they have a priest; your diligence is their divinity. Do you affirm that you worship not what you make? Ah! but they affirm not so, to whom you slay this fatter, more precious and greater victim, your salvation. (On Idolatry 7)

A closer look at this text shows that Christians were making, not Christian art that Tertullian was calling idols, but actual idols of false gods, whom Christians often referred to as demons. Note that Tertullian calls them idols of “the devil and his angels” rather than of Christian subjects. He also notes that Christian idolmakers were making things that were explicitly to be worshiped, just not by themselves. These Christian idolmakers were being like pagan priests and the idolmaker’s work was “their [pagans’] divinity.” Note that Hippolytus also said that Christian artists were to desist from making idols, so this was clearly an issue in that day (Apostolic Tradition 16). Thus, this quotation does not show evidence that Christians venerated images.

Methodius

John of Damascus wrote three treatises on icons, which influenced the Second Council of Nicaea’s decision to command iconodulia. However, though he quoted copiously from early Christian writers, he quoted only one person from before 313 to support his case:

For instance, then, the images of our kings here, even though they be not formed of the more precious materials—gold or silver—are honoured by all. For men do not, while they treat with respect those of the far more precious material, slight those of a less valuable, but honour every image in the world, even though it be of chalk or bronze. And one who speaks against either of them, is not acquitted as if he had only spoken against clay, nor condemned for having despised gold, but for having been disrespectful towards the King and Lord Himself. The images of God’s angels, which are fashioned of gold, the principalities and powers, we make [ποιοῦμεν, poioúmen] to His honour and glory. (Methodius, Discourse on the Resurrection 2 ANF)

This is hardly a pro-iconodulia quote, for the following reasons:

There is no claim that people are venerating images. It does speak of honoring a royal image, but it is unclear what it means by that, or what sort of honor is being given. Note that we are discussing a specific form of veneration.
The images of angels are made to God’s honor and glory, unlike iconodulistic images, which are intended primarily to the honor and glory of their subject (in this case, the angels). I know many artists who create art to the glory of God. That doesn’t mean that they pray to it.

But even if we pass over the fact that this quotation isn’t speaking of iconodulia, there are a number of other serious issues with the use of this quotation:

Most importantly, John seems to have misunderstood the intent, as I’ll show.
In another quote (quoted above), Methodius made a clearer statement against the veneration of images.
I’m no Greek scholar, but I note that all hangs on the word translated “make,” poioúmen. The word’s main meaning is indeed “make,” but it’s a word that can mean quite a few other things depending on the context. See the uses of this word group in the New Testament, for example. The trouble is that we don’t have much context.
In view of these issues, it’s also interesting that John uses this as his final quote, as though it’s either the strongest or weakest quote he could find. Since it clearly isn’t the strongest one that he quotes, this placement suggests that John himself might not have been fully confident about it.

John of Damascus’s quotation from Methodius is the only witness to that particular statement. However, another fragment which preserves significantly more of Methodius’s lost work has been found, and the larger context renders John’s interpretation dubious.

As, then, Jonah spent three days and as many nights in the whale’s belly, and was delivered up sound again, so shall we all, who have passed through the three stages of our present life on earth—I mean the beginning, the middle, and the end, of which all this present time consists—rise again. For there are altogether three intervals of time, the past, the future, and the present. And for this reason the Lord spent so many days in the earth symbolically, thereby teaching clearly that when the forementioned intervals of time have been fulfilled, then shall come our resurrection, which is the beginning of the future age, and the end of this. For in that age there is neither past nor future, but only the present. Moreover, Jonah having spent three days and three nights in the belly of the whale, was not destroyed by his flesh being dissolved, as is the case with that natural decomposition which takes place in the belly, in the case of those meats which enter into it, on account of the greater heat in the liquids, that it might be shown that these bodies of ours may remain undestroyed. For consider that God had images of Himself made as of gold, that is of a purer spiritual substance, as the angels; and others of clay or brass, as ourselves. He united the soul which was made in the image of God to that which was earthy. As, then, we must here honour all the images of a king, on account of the form which is in them, so also it is incredible that we who are the images of God should be altogether destroyed as being without honour. Whence also the Word descended into our world, and was incarnate of our body, in order that, having fashioned it to a more divine image, He might raise it incorrupt, although it had been dissolved by time. And, indeed, when we trace out the dispensation which was figuratively set forth by the prophet, we shall find the whole discourse visibly extending to this. (On the History of Jonah. From the Book on the Resurrection. 2 ANF)

It’s not clear whether the text from John is from this quoted area and one or the other of the texts is corrupted, or whether it comes from a different place in this discourse. What is clear is that the two quotes use very similar language, yet the second one has significantly more context which gives it clarity.

In the second quotation, Methodius says the following:

Angels are images of God made by him as though they were of gold.
Humans are images of God made by him as though they were of clay or brass.
Just like people honor a king’s image, God’s image deserves honor—but it’s because they are images of God, regardless of the material they’re made out of.
It’s unbelievable that even “clay” images of God would die entirely—that would be dishonoring to God, because even though they are made of a less pure substance, they’re still images of God.
Therefore, the Word (Jesus) became a “clay” image, so that he could resurrect it as imperishable.

So this quotation makes clear that the golden images being discussed are an analogy for angels themselves who are pure spirit, rather than speaking about images of angels.

In the former quotation, all but the final sentence are saying essentially the same as (3) and (4) are saying above. Compare the final sentence with the first bold sentence in the second quotation:

The images of God’s angels, which are fashioned of gold, the principalities and powers, we make [ποιοῦμεν, poioúmen] to His honour and glory.
For consider that God had images of Himself made as of gold, that is of a purer spiritual substance, as the angels; and others of clay or brass, as ourselves.

The two quotes are obviously incompatible, since in the one case, God made angels as images of himself, and in the other case, humans made images of angels to glorify God. What might explain this discrepancy?

It’s possible that two different people noted down Methodius’s discourse and the two textual traditions grew apart from each other. It’s also possible that one or the other was an intentional corruption of the text.

What do we conclude? Which one should we follow? Clearly, we should follow whichever has more context and fits better into the overall meaning of the work they came from. It should be easy to tell that the second one has more context and fits better into the context given than the first one does. Of course, we need to rely on the second one itself to know which fits better into the overall meaning of the work, but this need not be circular since it’s far less likely that the entire context would have been fabricated (how, and for what reason?) than that a short quote, like John’s, would have become corrupted or misunderstood without any surrounding context, given the incentives to corrupt or misunderstand it.

Of course, even without the analysis of the two quotations, John’s quote is by no means a demonstration of iconodulia, since it is not even discussing iconodulia at all.

Images of Paul, Peter, and Christ

Eusebius wrote,

Since I have mentioned this city I do not think it proper to omit an account which is worthy of record for posterity. For they say that the woman with an issue of blood, who, as we learn from the sacred Gospel, received from our Saviour deliverance from her affliction, came from this place, and that her house is shown in the city, and that remarkable memorials of the kindness of the Saviour to her remain there. For there stands upon an elevated stone, by the gates of her house, a brazen image of a woman kneeling, with her hands stretched out, as if she were praying. Opposite this is another upright image of a man, made of the same material, clothed decently in a double cloak, and extending his hand toward the woman. At his feet, beside the statue itself, is a certain strange plant, which climbs up to the hem of the brazen cloak, and is a remedy for all kinds of diseases. They say that this statue is an image of Jesus. It has remained to our day, so that we ourselves also saw it when we were staying in the city. Nor is it strange that those of the Gentiles who, of old, were benefited by our Saviour, should have done such things, since we have learned also that the likenesses of his apostles Paul and Peter, and of Christ himself, are preserved in paintings, the ancients being accustomed, as it is likely, according to a habit of the Gentiles, to pay this kind of honor indiscriminately to those regarded by them as deliverers. (Church History 7.18)

Note that veneration of images is not mentioned. Truglia makes much of the climbing herb that grows on the Christ-statue’s hem, comparing it to Eastern Orthodox who kiss a priest’s hem during liturgy. He sees it as obvious that

people are bending down and venerating the location in which the hemorrhaging woman was healed by Christ–the fringes of His cloak. This is how they know the plant supposedly heals them–they would have to bend down to touch it at exactly that location. Pilgrims and locals mimicked the woman’s action, seeking healing from a type of the Christological prototype. The is the most likely explanation of what Eusebius is describing as one would struggle to devise any other rational inference to explain the significance of the location of the healing plant.^xFrom this site.

It may or may not be true, as Truglia speculates, that people touched the plant to be healed. But there are a number of issues with taking this as veneration.

This is at most evidence for lay practice, not of the opinions of Christian leaders.
Eusebius sees the creation of images as a means of honoring saints as definitive of paganism, not Christianity, so this would actually better fit an argument against iconodulia. But at the very least, it is silent on definitive Christian practice. From archaeology, we know that the pagans created and even venerated images of dead philosophers, whom they saw as deliverers. This is probably the pagan habit that Eusebius is referencing. So even if the images were venerated (which we don’t know), Eusebius is saying that this practice is of pagan origin.
We don’t have an eyewitness account of the statue, and the healing herb seems like the sort of pious invention that one could expect on the third or fourth telling of a story like this. Its positioning at the hem of Jesus’ garment sounds too good to be true. If that herb did not exist, then the statue says absolutely nothing about Christian veneration.
There is a difference between bowing to, kissing, and praying to an image on the one hand (the veneration to which I refer), and touching the hem of a statue’s garment in memory of the faithful woman. There is no evidence for the first; there are only speculative inferences to support the second.
If the woman’s statue was elevated, it seems reasonable that Christ’s was, too, so one might not actually have bowed toward the statue in order to touch the plant.
We are not told that touching the plant was what brought about healing; typically herbs are ingested in some way, not merely touched. So it doesn’t seem especially likely that the plant, if it existed, was kissed.
Eusebius sees the creation of the images as what gives honor to Paul, Peter, and Christ. He does not speak of honor shown to those images.

Importantly, Eusebius sees this account as a surprising one that’s worth recording, not as normative of Christian practice. He considers these statues “remarkable memorials,” but if iconodulia had existed before his day, there would have been any number of statues and images of Jesus. The only remarkable thing would have been the “strange” herb, which certainly Eusebius sees as remarkable, but Eusebius is speaking of the statues. Furthermore, the strange herb is the very thing Truglia uses to argue that this is an example of iconodulia, so its strangeness undercuts his thesis that iconodulia was common.

In a discussion with Truglia on this, Stephen Bigham points out that the idea Eusebius has encountered is that these images come from likenesses of the people themselves, indicating that somebody within living memory of Jesus had painted him. Since Eusebius doesn’t react against this idea, Bigham suggests, this means that Eusebius didn’t think it crazy for such likenesses to exist. The implication is that portrayals of Jesus would have been common. But this is just not the case, since Eusebius believes the paintings to have been created from a pagan habit, not a Christian one, so this doesn’t reflect on Christian practice. Furthermore, Eusebius says that he “learned” this, as though it was not well-known. Therefore, this is not good evidence that lots of images of Christ existed among Christians, even though even that wouldn’t speak directly to their veneration.

Did Luke paint the first icons?

One widely-circulated claim is that Luke the Evangelist painted the first icons. This claim is taken as proof that icon veneration existed among Christian leaders in the first century. But there’s no legitimate historical or archeological evidence for this. In fact, the first known mention of the story is from around 530 by Theodore the Studite. This is more than two hundred years after 313, and more than four hundred years after Luke’s death.

Graffiti of Iconodulia

One piece of evidence is some graffiti that may come from before Constantine:

At Nazareth, the traditional site of the Annunciation, under the Byzantine chapel, archeologists have found another, more ancient site: the grotto of the Annunciation which Jewish Christians of the region venerated for centuries. An incomplete Greek inscription on a column in the grotto can be interpreted, according to Bagatti, as an indication of the presence of an image of Mary:
H (prostrated) ?
YPO AGIO TOPO M. . . under the holy place of M (ary?)
H EGRAPSA EK I wrote there the (the names)
EIKOS EYKOSM. . . the image I adorned
YTH(S) of her. . .
. . .The M can be completed in many ways; but the word “Marias” would be very appropriate at that place. . . In the fourth line, “eikos eukosm (esa) (a) ute(s)” suggest a) two possible translations, according to the value given to “eikos “: “I arranged well that which suits her”; b) “I adorned well her image.” As is clearly seen the graffito testifies to the existence of the veneration of Mary or of her image.^xFrom Christians and Images: Early Christian Attitudes Toward Images by Steven Bigham. In Bigham’s book, this piece of evidence is footnoted as follows: “Testa, E. Nazaret Giudeo-Cristiana, Jerusalem, Fransiscan Printing Press, 1969; B. Bagatti, Excavations in Nazareth, I: From the Beginning till the XII Century, Jerusalem, Franciscan Printing Press, 1969. Pp. 151-152” I was unable to access the original source; it would be good to check up on it to see if any more relevant information can be found.

This graffiti is anonymous, so there is no way of knowing who wrote it. Note that it is written in the first person singular, so it indicates that only one individual was doing whatever practice is indicated. It was not, therefore, likely to be a practice of a church, and we have no reason to think that it was considered legitimate by Christian leaders. It’s quite possible that an overly-zealous Constantinian-era convert wrote this inscription. Given the multiple possibilities that are compatible with different views, this cannot be used as evidence for either view.

Though the evidence is incomplete, it does seem reasonable that Bagatti’s interpretation of it is correct, and that at one time there was an image of Mary present, one which was “adorned.” However, other interpretations are also reasonable, given the incomplete nature of the graffiti.³ Bigham lists this inscription with other evidence of the existence of images (which I don’t dispute, of course). Of all of them, Bigham says,

“it is possible that some of these images and inscriptions go back to, or very close to, the apostolic age. It is quite possible that others belong to the second or third centuries. It is, of course, difficult to date all these monuments, but it is not out of the question that some of them, expecially those of Nazareth and Dominus Flevit in Jerusalem, do go back to the Apostles.”

Thus, this source shows only that it is possible that this graffiti predates 313. Presumably, it is also possible that it postdates 313. In fact, I am as yet unaware of any archaeological reason why it could not have been made centuries later by someone who went into the church basement. If anyone knows of solid archaeological evidence otherwise, such as if fourth-century additions needed to be excavated in order to get to this inscription, let me know.

In any case, it could easily fit into an argument for or against pre-313 iconodulia. Thus, it carries virtually no weight. One example of graffiti of uncertain age is evidence, but not very significant evidence compared to the much clearer evidence I’ve offered.

To put this piece of evidence into context, see the very modest conclusion that Bigham draws from his extensive argument:

our study has hopefully shown that nothing stands in the way of supposing that the artistic development that took place in the post-Constantinian centuries has roots that go far back into the preConstantinian [sic] period. We say “supposing” because the literature and works of art themselves are so fragmentary on the subject of ancient Christian art that we must limit ourselves to suppositions.

Clearly, he sees the case for images before Constantine as supposition, even with this piece of evidence.

Drawing connections from other practices or superstitions

The Argument from Relics to Icons

In a recent discussion of iconodulia sparked by Gavin Ortlund (Protestant), a new set of apologetics for iconodulia has emerged. Probably the most effective one is the claim that the veneration of images existed in the early church in seed form—as the veneration of relics of saints. One proponent of this view is Erick Ybarra, a Roman Catholic apologist whom I respect for his honesty and carefulness to reflect the nuances that actually exist. Here’s what he says:

[I]nsofar as one is discerning a historical retrieval of pure Christianity from the 4^th century, the cult of the Saints and the cultus of relics might as well be the cultus of the images in the 6^th to 9^th centuries. That is because the cultus of relics caused the overwhelming consensus of early Christianity to venerate persons through divinized material and to seek their post-mortem intercessory powers. (From this site)

In other words, since the veneration of relics and the veneration of images both involve addressing prayers to material objects, with the expectation that they pass on to the person represented by those objects, the two practices are basically the same. That’s not far from the truth, but there are a few issues that need to be addressed.

One reason people like this argument is that, though there is overwhelming evidence that the veneration of images is a late innovation, there are examples of veneration of relics that began earlier than iconodulia did. However, note how carefully Ybarra has worded his statement. Though his ideal is “a historical retrieval of pure Christianity,” and “the overwhelming consensus of early Christianity,” he qualifies his statement as applying to a retrieval/consensus “from the 4^th century,” basically admitting that he can’t support his position from the first 250 or so years of the church. He is wise to do so.

As I have pointed out, we have excellent reason to believe that the faith of the fourth century is not “pure Christianity.” Furthermore, I actually agree that, historically, a progression occurred from a cult of relics to a cult of images, as my next article discusses. Thus, this argument really doesn’t apply to the argument I give here. However, since there are those who argue that the veneration of relics existed very early in Christianity, I will point out some flaws in this argument here.

During the first few hundred years of Christianity, we have no examples of “veneration,” as defined in this argument, applied to relics. There are no examples of bowing to, kissing, or praying to relics, only examples of commemorating the martyrdom of martyrs and placing their bodies in special places. See, for example, the account of the martyrdom of Polycarp. Developed at least 200 years after apostles (early example not really an early example).
This argument doesn’t address the arguments given above against the early veneration of images. As I’ve shown, venerating images was diametrically opposed to their beliefs and was completely undercut by their argumentation.
Showing honor to an object that was already associated with the saint by their own existence or lifestyle is different from creating a new artwork intended to represent them in a sacred way.

Finally, a 180-degree turn is still exactly that, even if it has been achieved by two 90-degree turns.

Orants praying to the Good Shepherd?

I’ve moved my responses to this claim to this article that’s specifically for dealing with objections.

In one of the most creative defenses of pre-Constantinian iconodulia, one apologist argues that the depictions in the catacombs of orants, or praying souls, are evidence for iconodulia. In those days, Christians tended to pray standing, lifting their hands, and looking upward. Two of the most common artworks in the catacombs, as I’ve said earlier, are praying figures and the Good Shepherd. Truglia argues that the orants are a reminder to Christian visitors to look up as they pray—in which case they would be looking toward a painting of the Good Shepherd on the ceiling. Thus, they would be praying to an image of Christ.⁴

This argument, though creative, is a new one for a reason—there are so many problems with it. It’s true that there are a number of cases where orants are below a Good Shepherd. Of course, we would expect to see this even given non-iconodulia, since to Jesus is central to our faith. An image depicting one of his titles would be likely to take the central place, and of course since Christians prayed in an upwards posture, the orants would be pointing toward whatever is central. Since this situation is perfectly consistent with non-iconodulia, it’s not evidence for iconodulia.

In fact, even if a Christian looks at an image that reminds them of Jesus, and then prays to Jesus, that is completely different from praying to an image of Jesus with the intention of the communication passing from the image to the prototype. So even if this argument succeeded, it would not demonstrate iconodulia.

Second, this theme is by no means as clear as Truglia would prefer. There are pictures of orants all over the place, and not all of them are pointing toward an image of Christ. In fact, the same catacomb Truglia references to demonstrate his point has a room with an orant in the vault rather than the Good Shepherd. If orants are taken to be pointing toward something venerable, what about the ones that aren’t? And if those who used the standard early Christian practice of prayer would be praying to whatever was on the ceiling, what about the non-venerable things on the ceiling?

In depictions of Noah’s ark, Noah is typically depicted as a male orant, and above him is the dove returning with the olive leaf. Does that mean he was praying to the dove? Or that we should pray to the dove?

In fact, the example Truglia uses is not as simple as it might seem. What is directly above the orant is a peacock, and the ceiling has other birds on it. In the center is the Good Shepherd. So which is the orant looking at?

Truglia suggests that the viewers were supposed to mimic the orant’s posture and pray to whatever was in one’s line of vision. But depending on where you were in the room, you might easily be looking at a peacock rather than the Good Shepherd.

But, you might say, necks are flexible. We can look up higher or lower as necessary, and people could easily look at the Good Shepherd from anywhere. But then it is begging the question to use this picture as evidence. If you could be looking at the Good Shepherd from anywhere, you could look at anything else from anywhere, and then it isn’t obvious that this setup is demanding veneration.

Third, a picture representing a figure who prays to a figure in a picture is not considered problematic by anyone that I know of. A picture of someone praying to Jesus is different from a person praying to a picture of Jesus. If the art suggested that someone is praying to a picture of Jesus, that would be another thing entirely.

Fourth, the Good Shepherd is widely recognized to be a symbolic image rather than a portrait intended to be venerated. Above, I discuss reasons why it would not be venerated.

Art was considered magical or apotropaic.

One apologist says of those who do not consider iconodulia to be an early Christian practice:

“They offered no interaction with the consensus view amongst ante-Nicene Jews and Christians that art was obviously perceived as apotropaic [protective] or magical. Right, so the Jews and the Christians—it’s not debated, whether it’s a cross, whether it’s a picture image, whether it’s a object you put on your door with a scripture in it, like a mezuzah—they all viewed these things as apotropaic. And this has no corresponding reality with the aniconists, because they’re secular and Protestant, so this is a glaring omission, right? So like the claim that, “Oh, you know, the art was just decorative,” when no one believed art was just decorative. There was a consensus that was apotropaic. There’s zero doubt over this.” (This video)
What is the purpose of the obscure symbolism that brings Christian truths to one’s memory? Historians are well aware that Christian art and even words, like the beginning of the Our Father prayer, would be placed at the entrances of homes in order to serve an apotropaic purpose (akin to a talisman). It is believed that Irenaeus partook in the practice (which may explain the offense at the “other modes” of veneration the Gnostics employed) and it is uncontested early Christians adopted it throughout the world. (See also Joaquín Serrano del Pozo, “Relics, Images, and Christian Apotropaic Devices in the Roman-Persian Wars”) Clement most likely saw the art as serving this purpose which is why he demanded that the art not be lifelike or accurate, which would lend it to idolatry otherwise in his view. (This article)

How does this help the case for veneration? Even if this is true, it would simply suggest that the early Christians saw images as having power. It wouldn’t say that Christians actually prayed to these magical images with the intent to passing communications through the image to the prototype. In fact, since Christians should not have anything to do with magic, this actually hurts the cause of iconodulia.

Furthermore, I’m not sure where the evidence of this “consensus” is for Christians. As far as I know, no pre-Constantinian Christian leaders thought that it was legitimate for Christians to possess apotropaic art. And even though superstitious people around them held to that practice, we know that the Christians thought differently about many things than those around them.

In fact, we have excellent evidence that Christian leaders thought differently about images than those around them did—they thought that images had no power.

Craig Truglia’s Strategy

As you can see, these examples are rather impoverished in comparison to the examples provided against iconodulia. They’re based on misunderstandings, spurious documents, and mentions of the practices of pagans, heretics, or at best individual lay people, while the examples provided against iconodulia are based on the beliefs and teachings of prominent Christian leaders and apologists whose writings are highly valued in understanding Christian doctrine in other areas. This is not lost on Truglia, so he employs a unique strategy to try to strengthen the weight we place on this evidence.

The way Truglia frames the issue is very important for his case. He argues that, since we know that art did exist in this time period (as my article on archaeology also shows), what we need is compelling evidence for how this art was employed. He offers two alternatives for how it could have been used: for veneration or for decoration. Then he points to these pieces of evidence to show that there is “explicit” or “unambiguous” evidence that images were venerated, and no explicit evidence that images were used as decoration.⁵ By claiming that those who don’t believe in iconodulia must demonstrate that early art was specifically decorative, and by framing his sources as better because they are “explicit,” he attempts to give his side the edge in the discussion. Unfortunately, the problems with this approach are manifold.

Do we need sources that specify how images were used?

First, do we need a source that specifies explicitly how images were to be used? No. As I pointed out in my overview post, there are many, many reasons for images to exist besides for veneration. All we are claiming is that the earliest Christian images weren’t intended for veneration, at least not as a legitimate practice. Images can play all sorts of roles for religious people. The early Christians’ images could easily have ranged from artistic, symbolic, evocative, decorative, instructive, or pious (without veneration).

Furthermore, the type of art we find in archaeology itself suggests how it was used. We don’t need explicit statements to know that fish, doves, the subjects of Jesus’ healings, etc. weren’t venerated. The way that pictorial subjects, like Christ, who are now venerated through images, are represented, suggests that their images were intended for purposes other than veneration. So, since it’s ridiculous to assume that all Christian art was venerated, we can know that at least some Christian art was present for another reason. And if some was, this shows Truglia’s framing of the question to be inadequate. Furthermore, if some art wasn’t venerated, why wouldn’t most or all be for non-venerable purposes?

Is explicitness the best criterion of truth?

Second, Truglia frames the debate around the question of explicitness, which is a misguided approach. Truglia believes that his historical examples are the most important ones because they are “explicit” or “unambiguous.” In a debate on iconodulia, he says that, “Whomever in this debate makes more historical inferences will lose this debate. So on this basis, iconodulia wins the day.”⁶

However, explicitness is not always the best criterion of truth; instead, relevance is much more important. In this section, I’ll show why this is the case.

Explicitness vs. Relevance

First, consider this simple example. Suppose that you see a road blocked by a sign that says, “Bike race ahead.” That’s very explicit. We know that a bike race is occurring. But does that sign indicate that anyone who wants to can join the race? No, because the sign is not relevant to who can apply.

Now, suppose you see the bikers, and they are all wearing T-shirts that say, “Franklin County Middle School.” There is nothing explicit about the T-shirts, but they indicate that the bike race is an FCMS event and that not just anyone can join. In other words, they are relevant to who can apply.

It is relevant that (1) Multiple early Christian writers wrote that images cannot stand in for anything sacred.

Truglia believes that the person who makes the least inferences has the best case. However, you have to make an inference from the T-shirts to their application to the bike race, whereas no inferences are needed to move from the sign to its application to the bike race. However, the sign is not relevant to the information we want to find out. Thus, it’s not actually the person who makes more inferences who wins; it’s the person who has the more relevant evidence who wins.

Now for an example that’s closer to the matter at hand. Suppose Fred and Jake are brothers. Their parents leave them at home alone one evening, and tell them, “Don’t watch TV.” After their parents are gone, Fred and Jake discuss whether it’s okay for them to watch YouTube on a computer instead of TV. Is it okay or isn’t it? It’s hard to know.

However, suppose their parents said, “Don’t watch TV,” and followed that up with a principle: “Watching videos in the evening is bad for your sleep cycle.” I think we’d all agree that we know what Fred and Jake’s parents want them to do about YouTube. It may be that Fred and Jake may use the computer to do homework, or something of the sort, but if they use it for YouTube, that contradicts the principle that their parents gave. After all, their parents want them not to watch videos in the evening.

In the same way, the early Christian leaders gave the principle that communications addressed to an image can’t go to its prototype; anyone addressing communications to a picture is just talking to the picture. Therefore we can know what they believed about Christian images, not just pagan ones. It may be that Christian images may be used for decoration, instruction, or symbols, but if they are used for veneration, that contradicts the principle that the early Christians gave. After all they believe that communications addressed to a picture simply go to the picture.

However, suppose that Fred argues in the following way:

Method: I know that my parents are okay with computers. So the question is how a computer can be used.
Inference: My parents said that I shouldn’t watch TV because videos harm my sleep cycle; this applies to YouTube as well.
Explicit fact: I know of examples where the neighbor kids watched YouTube at night.
Explicit fact: I saw my own brother Jake watch YouTube at night.
Explicit facts are better than inferences. Therefore, I know that my parents will let me use a computer to watch YouTube at night.

It hardly matters that the facts are explicit ones. They are not relevant. Instead, as I’ve shown above, the implicit inferences are actually relevant. Thus, Fred is justified in concluding that he should not watch YouTube at night.

Similarly, Truglia argues in the following way:

Method: We know that the early Christians were okay with images. So the question is how the images were used.
Inference: Multiple early Christian writers wrote that images cannot stand in for anything sacred; this applies to Christian images as well.
Explicit fact: We know of examples where heretics venerated images.
Explicit fact: We know of examples where lay Christians venerated images.
Explicit facts are better than inferences. Therefore, we know that the early Christian leaders believed the veneration of images to be appropriate.

It hardly matters that the facts are explicit ones. They are not relevant. Instead, as I’ve shown above, the implicit inferences are actually relevant. Thus, we are justified in concluding that the early Christian leaders didn’t teach the veneration of images.

In fact, Truglia is actually making inferences. The difference is that he is inferring from explicit pagan practices to Christian ones, and we are inferring from explicit Christian beliefs to Christian practices. When trying to understand what was considered legitimate by Christians, is it better to start from what we know that Christians believed, or is it better to start from what we know that pagans practiced? That’s not a hard question to answer.

We should follow Christian leaders, not lay people and heretics

Third, as I mentioned earlier, if we want to find out what was considered legitimate, the question is what the leaders taught, not what lay people or heretics practiced. Lay people and heretics disobey Christian leaders all the time.

Interestingly, Truglia admits that his strategy isn’t able to demonstrate a consensus of the fathers, which would be necessary to demonstrate iconodulia as an Eastern Orthodox practice. He says this isn’t necessary, since those who are against iconodulia don’t accept that framework, so they can’t require him to hold to it. Unfortunately, the historic faith method does accept that framework, so that means that to refute us, he must show that consensus. Also, it is not inconsistent at all for someone who doesn’t accept that framework to point out that his position is inconsistent if he isn’t able to show that this view was the consensus. If his position is inconsistent, then the Eastern Orthodox shouldn’t hold it.

Other issues with this approach

There are also several other issues with this approach. Fourthly, this strategy is incapable of explaining the six highly evidenced points I gave above and repeat here. Thus, it isn’t a good theory when compared to the one I’ve offered.

Multiple early Christian writers wrote that images cannot stand in for anything sacred.
Multiple early Christian writers saw the veneration of images as a difference between Christians and rival groups like pagans or heretics.
Pagans criticized Christians for not worshiping with sacred images, and Christians defended themselves by arguing against the veneration of images.
Several early fathers and apologists made statements that directly contradict the use of sacred images.
No pre-Constantinian Christian leaders ever condemn Christian veneration of images, only the similar practices of pagans and heretics.
No pre-Constantinian Christians described Christian veneration of images at all.

Fifthly, this strategy, when it employs images mentioned by Irenaeus and Eusebius,⁷ fails to recognize that scholars (and views like mine that draw from the scholarship) already have a category for these images; thus, a new theory that offers to explain them isn’t needed. These images aren’t holes in the narrative; they are a consistent and non–ad hoc part of our view that makes as much or more sense in our view than in theirs. To explain—they are examples of pagan and Gnostic philosopher veneration, which we know existed from other sources.⁸

One could object that it would be simpler to consider these images to be examples of a Christian practice rather than a pagan one. But it wouldn’t, because these are not the only sources for that pagan practice, so historians need an explanation of the data about pagan practices anyway. And after all, the early Christians actually associate these images with philosopher veneration, thus placing these images into this category themselves.

Finally, I conclude that this strategy is a non-starter. It doesn’t avail to save the Eastern Orthodox position.

Arguments from Cultural Defaults

“You have to understand the Eastern mindset”

“But you have to understand the Eastern mindset. Veneration is just what they do with images. We should just assume that images were venerated.”

Polytheism was also part of the Eastern mindset. And killing our enemies is part of the human mindset. Lust is part of the male mindset. Yet Jesus came to transform us, not to let society operate it as it always has.

This convenient “Eastern mindset” doesn’t seem to have stopped many Eastern church fathers from writing such powerful disconfirmations of iconodulia as are found in the sections above. And if there’s evidence for or against a proposition, it no longer matters what our default position should be on that proposition.

Furthermore, culture has changed in the last two millennia. Just because people hold a particular mindset today doesn’t mean that they always have held it. How can we be sure that this mindset hasn’t changed, especially in light of the historical circumstances that drove such change?

We know that the culture venerated images.

One apologist, David Erhan, argues that, since we know that mainstream Roman society venerated images of emperors, we should just assume that Christians venerated images of Jesus unless we have evidence against it. But we know that mainstream Roman society did all sorts of cultic practices, such as religious prostitution, and of course quite a bit of secular prostitution. Does that mean that we should assume Christians did those unless we can prove otherwise?

Of course, we can show beyond a reasonable doubt that before Constantine, the veneration of images was not a legitimate Christian practice, so this point is moot in any case.

Just the existence of religious art suggests veneration of icons.

A similar argument is that the existence of religious art strongly suggests veneration of that art. Christian art existed during the pre-conciliar era, so isn’t it likely that such art was being used in liturgical settings? Not really. There have been vast amounts of Christian art throughout the centuries that were never used as iconography. A person can have an image of someone whom they admire, without actually bowing to or kissing that image.

To those who are already convinced of iconodulia, the existence of images may well lead them inescapably to the conclusion of venerating them. However, to expect those who aren’t convinced of it to accept that as evidence is begging the question. Protestants often have all sorts of images all throughout their sanctuaries, but no one seems to feel that they should be bowed to or kissed.

The existence of images is at best an argument for the possibility of iconodulia. However, the direct evidence in quotes I’ve cited are enough to outweigh what little evidence the images might give.

Objections to the Case Against Icons

In this section, I’ll respond to some reasons offered for not using these quotes as evidence against iconodulia. Then I’ll respond to some positive arguments for iconodulia.

But these passages are talking about worship, not veneration.

This objection fails to address the argument in any way. If the argument were that, because worshiping images is wrong, venerating them is also wrong, this would be a fair point. Of course, though, that’s not the argument.

The argument is that the facts surrounding the Christian rejection of idols, including their reasoning processes, are incompatible with the theory that Christians accepted the veneration of images. The Christians said things about pagan veneration of images that would have been silly to say if they were also venerating images. If the church fathers were so naive, then why would the be valued so highly by all of us?

A final note. I have chosen to talk about the pagan practice as “veneration of images” rather than as “worshiping idols.” Is that an inaccurate designation? No, because the pagans honored a range of personalities through images, including living and dead humans, so it’s not likely that they paid worship to every image that they honored. Furthermore, if one worships images, then one certainly also venerates them. I use that term as an umbrella that covers all practices. And finally, I’ve ensured that the passages I cite are not only about the worship of images, but also include elements that speak to the mere veneration of images.

What do we do when they said they didn’t have images but did?

In most of the quotations above, the writers explicitly said that images couldn’t be sacred, that they shouldn’t be venerated, or that there should be no images made of God. In a few cases, writers just said that Christians didn’t have images. Since we know that Christians did have images, should this bother us? No, because the context clearly shows that they were talking about sacred images or images that were venerated.

Christians obviously had images, but not images functioning in sacred or liturgical capacities. It would be very odd to say that, since Christians had images in other contexts than the ones in which they said they didn’t have images, they also had images in those contexts as well.

Can we ignore the apologists because they said Christians also didn’t have altars?

In one of the quotes above, Origen says that Christians don’t have “temples, altars, or images.” This statement may seem problematic for two reasons:

Another statement by Origen makes it sound like Origen thought Christians actually did have temples, statues, and altars.
We know that Christians had communion tables, which have frequently been called altars.

Because of these two reasons, could it be that Origen is simply saying that Christians don’t have pagan temples, altars, or images, but that they may have Christian temples, altars, or images? This would be a very odd interpretation of Origen—why would he need to specify to Celsus that they didn’t have pagan temples, altars, or images, when they actually had Christian temples, altars, and images? Celsus would naturally have assumed that they would have Christian appurtenances rather than pagan ones. Instead, Celsus and Origen must be saying that if Christians have such things, they are radically different in kind so as to be unrecognizable from pagan practice.

This is further supported by Origen’s stated reasons for not having these appurtenances. He says that, unlike other groups that don’t have images, Christians “abhor altars and images on the ground that they are afraid of degrading the worship of God, and reducing it to the worship of material things wrought by the hands of men.” See Against Celsus book 7, chapters 62–65 for more context (they can be easily read here). Thus, he at least means that Christian appurtenances are not seen as sacred or as playing a role in helping them experience God.

But might the quote mentioned in (1) throw some further light on what Origen is saying? Here it is:

there is no comparison between our statues and the statues of the heathen, nor between our altars, with what we may call the incense ascending from them, and the heathen altars, with the fat and blood of the victims; nor, finally, between the temples of senseless gods, admired by senseless men, who have no divine faculty for perceiving God, and the temples, statues, and altars which are worthy of God. (Against Celsus 8.20)

This may sound like it contradicts Origen, but if we read the context, we find that Origen is in fact contradicting iconodulia. He says that, unlike the material temples, statues, and altars of the pagans, each Christians as being “a precious stone in the one great temple of God” (8.19). He says that Christians “regard the spirit of every good man as an altar from which arises an incense which is truly and spiritually sweet-smelling, namely, the prayers ascending from a pure conscience” (8.17). And as for the statues that Origen is discussing:

the statues and gifts which are fit offerings to God are the work of no common mechanics, but are wrought and fashioned in us by the Word of God, to wit, the virtues in which we imitate “the First-born of all creation,” who has set us an example of justice, of temperance, of courage, of wisdom, of piety, and of the other virtues. In all those, then, who plant and cultivate within their souls, according to the divine word, temperance, justice, wisdom, piety, and other virtues, these excellences are their statues they raise, in which we are persuaded that it is becoming for us to honour the model and prototype of all statues: “the image of the invisible God,” God the Only-begotten. And again, they who “put off the old man with his deeds, and put on the new man, which is renewed in knowledge after the image of Him that hath created him,” in taking upon them the image of Him who hath created them, do raise within themselves a statue like to what the Most High God Himself desires. (8.17)

The author of this post, which raises the objection in this section, recognizes that Origen wasn’t defending literal images, but argues that such passages suggest that we shouldn’t read apologists too literally when they condemn pagan images. I simply suggest that we should read every writer in context, allowing that context to inform how we understand each quotation. In this case, the context of each quotation shows that Origen didn’t believe that the veneration of images was a legitimate Christian practice. Thus, these passages pose no problem at all for the argument I’m making.

But might (2) be a good point anyway? Might it suggest that Christians had sacred images, just as they had communion tables? No, because, as pointed out before, Origen doesn’t see Christian appurtenances as sacred or as playing a role in helping them experience God.

For another angle, even if Origen thought of communion tables as altars, the difference between Christian and non-Christian altars is such as to suggest that he is denying that Christians have sacred or venerated images. Altars are an integral part of sacrifice and , being a locus where a god can properly receive a sacrifice, while for Christians, “altar” is a way of speaking about a communion table, which we all know doesn’t have any power to it. Communion can be practiced without a consecrated table, while an altar must be consecrated to that god. So pagan altars are sacred, while Christian “altars” are everyday objects.

Furthermore, Origen doesn’t ever seem to call communion tables “altars,” so this objection has no weight. I’ve searched through many of Origen’s works, and was unable to find any place where he referred to the communion table as an altar (if you’ve found something I missed, let me know).⁹

But since Christian “altars” would have appeared in the front and center of Christian worship, might that also allow room for Christian images to have appeared in the front and center of Christian worship? One could speculate in that direction. In fact, as my archaeology post relates, we do know of one Christian baptistery from this time period that had images (ones that did not suggest veneration). So there could quite possibly have been images in many churches. However, there is no suggestion that either communion tables or images were bowed to, kissed, or prayed to as a legitimate Christian practice.

Clearly, Celsus and Origen both saw Christian images as being in a radically-enough different category from pagan ones that one could simply ignore their existence when discussing sacred images. This fact alone is strong evidence that practices like bowing to, kissing, and praying to images, practices which would have been easily recognized by pagans, were not considered a legitimate part of Christianity.

These Christians were merely doing apologetics

One commenter on this post said that, according to the standards of argumentation of the day, apologists would have been just fine with using arguments against pagans that could have been turned around to be used against Christians.

However, no matter what historical context you’re in, it’s hard to see why you would actually contradict and undercut your own beliefs to this extent while arguing against your opponent. If anyone knows of a source that suggests that the ancients didn’t care about undercutting their own position while doing invective, feel free to share it with me.

Furthermore, this doesn’t address all of the argumentation I gave above. For example, when pagans criticized Christians for not having sacred images, why didn’t Christians just say, “You’re wrong; we do have sacred images”?

These writers are actually coming up with positive arguments against sacred images, arguments that they wouldn’t need to use—they had a lot of arguments in their arsenal against worshiping pagan gods or the dead. They could use just the other arguments that wouldn’t apply to all sacred images instead of creating arguments that also undercut their own position.

Everybody who was against veneration of images was against all art

Some say that those who disagreed with iconodulia were radicals who didn’t accept any kind of images or artwork. If it were true that the only case against icons is a case against all images, then Orthodox apologists have an easy job ahead of them. They can demonstrate iconodulia by simply pointing to the existence early Christian artworks, thus proving that the fathers I’ve cited were simply mistaken.

However, it is just not true that the only case against icons is a case against all images. In my overview, I cited Clement of Alexandria, who believed art to be a good thing, but condemned iconodulia. Irenaeus, also quoted in this article, used the analogy of “a beautiful image of a king . . . constructed by some skilful artist” and uses it in his analogy as a good thing.

Furthermore, if Eastern Orthodox apologists want to argue that the only case against icons is a case against all images, they will need to show that a significant number of the writers that I’ve quoted were against all images, and not just against venerating images. That hasn’t been done. Typically, they point to Tertullian as an example of such extreme beliefs, but I haven’t cited Tertullian in support of my position.

So it’s just not true that everyone who was against icons was also against art. But even if that were true, that fact wouldn’t help the Eastern Orthodox case. Whether or not the pre-Constantinian church was against all art, that still doesn’t change the fact that they certainly were unilaterally against iconodulia! Thus, the Eastern Orthodox Church is no longer practicing what was taught in the first few centuries of the church.

But some of these writers can’t be trusted

Some Orthodox might point out that Origen and Tertullian, two writers who wrote directly against the veneration of images, aren’t fully accepted by the Eastern Orthodox Church. Furthermore, not all the writers I quoted are considered to be saints by the Orthodox. But this objection misses the point. I cite such writers, not for their theological opinions, but because their writings show what practices were occurring in the church in their day.

My argument is that before 313, the veneration of images was not a legitimate Christian practice. If that is true, then it doesn’t matter which writers have the most theological authority—any iconodulia is an alteration to the faith and demonstrates that the Eastern Orthodox Church has changed.

Besides a number of the people I’ve quoted are considered to be saints by the Eastern Orthodox. Furthermore, some of the most revered Orthodox saints, such as John Chrysostom, Athanasius, and Basil the Great, also did not venerate icons.

A Few More Objections

The following are miscellaneous objections that deserve a quick reply.

Some Orthodox say that the reason iconodulia isn’t found in the early centuries is that Christians needed to hide their worship practices due to being persecuted. When persecution ended, they could start venerating icons in public as they had in private. Besides having no evidence to back it up, this objection has two problems. First, the early Christians often tried to justify themselves for not having images, since the pagans thought they were foolish for that. Being up front about their images would actually have earned them pagan respect, so, since they didn’t mention their images as a response to pagan attacks, it’s clear they didn’t have icons. Second, for half a century or so after persecution ended, several of Orthodoxy’s best-loved saints show that iconodulia wasn’t a part of their Christianity.
Some Orthodox may say that only some early fathers were against iconodulia. However, I’ve given good evidence that before 313, the veneration of images was not a legitimate Christian practice. If you know of any early fathers who wrote in favor of iconodulia, please let me know in the comments! I’d be glad to interact with them. But until then, we really can’t say that only some early fathers were against iconodulia.
But there aren’t many pre-Constantinian fathers. We just don’t have enough evidence to know what pre-Constantinian Christians believed. First, note that to say this is to admit that the evidence points in my direction. Furthermore, many of the writers quoted here were bishops, so they would have been familiar with the practices of many Christians. Some of these men were bishops in very influential centers of Christianity. Some of them were very well-connected throughout the Christian world. And the ones who weren’t bishops were apologists, who claim to be representing Christianity. If so, they would have done their research on what Christians believe! If anyone would know what the early Christian position is, these men would know. Yet they provide quite consistent evidence against the practice of iconodulia.
Some argue that iconoclasm arose from Islam, not Christianity. This claim doesn’t address my argument, since the pre-Constantinian church predates Islam by centuries.
When we say that icons came into the faith after the Roman government’s friendliness with Christianity, one person argues that we must demonstrate that the Roman government had a role in bringing about iconodulia. But surely we can see that iconodulia began at a certain time without needing to prove what influenced it to begin. Furthermore, there’s good reason to think that the Roman Empire’s friendliness to Christianity would have some effects.
An article asserts that “In the first four hundred years of church history, there is not a single mention that art is merely decorative.” My argument is not that the early Christians used art in a specific way; only that they didn’t use art in veneration. Veneration is only one of many possible purposes of art. We need positive evidence if we are to assume art was being venerated. In any case, the sources I’ve given show that veneration of art was not an orthodox Christian practice.

How could a practice be widespread by the eighth century if it wasn’t apostolic?

See this article that shows why we can expect changes to have occurred within that timeframe. Furthermore, in my next article I outline a clear pathway for how veneration of images could easily have arisen without a visible disruption of society.

1
Stewart, “The apostolic canons of Antioch. An Origenistic exercise”, Revue d’histoire Ecclésiastique, 448-449
2
Truglia notes that Stewart’s article “convincingly dates these canons to the third or fourth centuries.” Here he misreads Stewart’s “of” as “or,” a very understandable mistake that I almost did myself when reading through the article.
3
Truglia seems to suggest that the image still exists, but his source says otherwise, so I may be misunderstanding him.
4
This article.
5
Here and here
6
https://youtu.be/iIIS6mkk9_o?t=1433
7

[The Carpocratian heretics] also possess images, some of them painted, and others formed from different kinds of material; while they maintain that a likeness of Christ was made by Pilate at that time when Jesus lived among them. They crown these images, and set them up along with the images of the philosophers of the world that is to say, with the images of Pythagoras, and Plato, and Aristotle, and the rest. They have also other modes of honouring these images, after the same manner of the Gentiles.

(Against Heresies 1.25.6 ANF)

Eusebius to Constantia: “Once— I do not know how—a woman brought me in her hands a picture of two men in the guise of philosophers and let fall the statement that they were Paul and the Saviour—I have no means of saying where she had had this from or learned such a thing. With the view that neither she nor others might be given offence, I took it away from her and kept it in my house, as I thought it improper that such things ever be exhibited to others, lest we appear, like idol worshippers, to carry our God around in an image. [. . .] It is said that Simon the sorcerer is worshipped by godless heretics painted in lifeless material.” From this site
8
See Katherine Marsengill, “Panel Paintings and Early Christian Icons,” Robin M. Jensen & Mark D. Ellison, editors, The Routledge Handbook of Early Christian Art, Routledge, Taylor & Francis Group, London and New York, 2018. Cited in my archaeology post.
9
Truglia suggests that Origen speaks of Christian communion tables as altars in his Homilies on Joshua when Origen says,

When, indeed, you see nations enter into the faith, churches raised up, altars sprinkled not with the flowing blood of beasts but consecrated with the “precious blood of Christ”; when you see priests and Levites ministering not “the blood of bulls and goats” but the Word of God through the grace of the Holy Spirit, then say that Jesus received and retained the leadership after Moses—not Jesus the son of Nun, but Jesus the Son of God. When you see that “Christ, our paschal lamb, has been sacrificed” and that we are eating the unleavened bread of “integrity and truth” . . . (Homily on Joshua 2. Tr. Barbara J. Bruce, ed. Cynthia White, Origen: Homilies on Joshua, The Catholic University of America Press, 2002, pp. 37-38)

But all the indications are against Origen intending this to be communion tables. First, 1 Peter 1:19, which Origen quoted as saying “precious blood of Christ,” isn’t talking about communion, but the ransom of individuals from the Old Testament to Christ. Might Origen mean communion tables? More likely he means people, just as Peter does. Notice in Against Celsus 8.17 where he says that “the spirit of every good man [is] an altar.” Origen also says that the blood of bulls and goats is fulfilled in the preaching of the word, so that doesn’t suggest communion either. When he says that Christ has been sacrificed like the paschal lamb, he says that what we eat is “the unleavened bread of ‘integrity and truth.’” So he’s not talking about communion there either.

1 thought on “Responding to Orthodox Arguments for Icons”

Derek Ramsey
May 18, 2023 at 7:59 pm

“This is hardly a pro-iconodulia quote, for the following reasons: There is no claim that people are venerating images. It does speak of honoring a royal image, but it is unclear what it means by that, or what sort of honor is being given. Note that we are discussing a specific form of veneration.”
This is analogous to the veneration of relics. The 1912 Catholic Encyclopedia, in its article on relics, said this:
“We can only say that it was widespread early in the fourth century, and that dated inscriptions upon blocks of stone, which were probably altar slabs, afford evidence upon the point which is quite conclusive. One such, found of late years in Northern Africa and now preserved in the Christian Museum of the Louvre, bears a list of the relics probably once cemented into a shallow circular cavity excavated in its surface. Omitting one or two words not adequately explained, the inscription runs: “A holy memorial [memoria sancta] of the wood of the Cross, of the land of Promise where Christ was born, the Apostles Peter and Paul, the names of the martyrs Datian, Donatian, Cyprian, Nemesianus, Citinus, and Victoria. In the year of the Province 320 [i.e. A.D. 359] Benenatus and Pequaria set this up” (“Corp. Inscr. Lat.”, VIII, n. 20600).”
Benenatus and Pequaria had what they believed was someone holy, so they buried it. What else were they to do? This is precisely what the early church did with the “relics” (dead bodies; bones) of the saints: they buried them. Christians would then gather and honor them at their grave once a year. Such a memorial would sometimes be celebrated on the anniversary of the saint’s martyrdom, which was called their “birthday”. And indeed, the practice of honoring and memorializing the dead by burial has been the tradition of Jews and Christians for millennia.
Showing honor—a form of respect—in the form of a memorial is a far cry from veneration.