St Constantine and the Triumph of Christian Art

Thanks to the miraculous efforts of St Constantine, Christianity underwent a significant change in the fourth century. What came with this change was the triumphant spread of the Gospel of Jesus Christ in every way possible throughout the known world. Along with this — and by not only necessity but also following upon Divine institution and precedent — was the spread and triumph of a very specific form of Christian art and what we now know of as Iconography within the Orthodox and Catholic churches.

Ouspensky comments on the enormity of this sudden change in Christianity, noting:

“The influx of new converts requires larger places of worship and a new kind of teaching, one that is more direct and more explicit. The symbols used in the first centuries, intended for a small number of initiates, were incomprehensible to the new converts. This is the obvious reason why large historical cycles of monumental paintings portraying the events of the Old and New Testaments appeared in churches in the fourth and fifth centuries. St Constantine built churches in Palestine on the very sites where the biblical events had occurred. It is also in this period that the dates of most of the major feasts were set, along with the iconographic schemes for them, which are still followed in the Orthodox Church today.”
Leonid Ouspensky, Theology of the Icon, Volume 1, p. 81

Interestingly enough, there are many ancient phials that have been discovered which depict all of the Feasts of the Church by the 6th and 7th centuries, and all of them showing depictions identical to the Icons of our present day for each Feast, confirming of course their antiquity.

As Christianity was given free reign to spread throughout the Empire, the Theology of the Church became more precise, well thought out and greatly expounded than ever — and, along with this, the canonization and spread of Christian artwork along with the Liturgy and prayers and feasts of the Church — all of these things went hand-in-hand, since they are all part of the same Faith and the same Sacred Tradition. Indeed, the fourth century and onward was the “golden age” of the Church theologically speaking, and especially in the East (all seven Ecumenical Synods were held in the East, e.g.). As the Theology of the ascetics and desert fathers began to spread throughout Christendom, the increase in sacred art came with it. Ouspensky notes:

“The experience of the ascetic Fathers and their writings spreads throughout the Christian world. From this time on, the theory and practice (praxis) of theology, that is, the teaching of the Church and the living experience of the ascetics, become the sources that feed sacred art, guide and inspire it. This art finds it necessary, on the one hand, to transmit truths that are formulated dogmatically, and on the other hand to communicate the living experience of these truths — the spiritual experience of the saints, the living Christianity in which dogma and life are one.” (Ibid, p. 83)

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Meddling with History and the Origin of Icons

Icon of the Triumph of OrthodoxyIt is no wonder that one of the key components of a radical revolution is Iconoclasm, since all Icons — whether religious or cultural — are reminders of and even part of our connection with the past. Alongside this, as a result, comes the re-writing of history to suit our particular opinions, tastes, or ideas about what should have happened, maybe — but emphatically didn’t.

When it comes to the Christian past and how we got to where we are today as Christians, Western Protestants are notorious for stacking the deck against reality and presenting a new version of Christian history. This is common for Westerners in general (as conquerors and empires are enabled to tell the story, of course), but is even present among Protestants who are — by and large — Iconoclastic (and even more rigorously so than any Christians ever were in the 8th or 9th centuries, or even Muslims).

In Ouspensky’s next chapter, he deals with the origins of the Christian image, or Icon, and explains in relative detail what these images are really about.

First and foremost, Icons are all about the Incarnation of Jesus as the Son of God and Second Person of the All-Holy Trinity. “The Church declares that the icon is an outcome of the Incarnation; that it is based upon this Incarnation and therefore belongs to the very essence of Christianity, and cannot be separated from it.” (p. 36)

Unfortunately, thanks in large part to the historical ineptness of an English scholar (Gibbon) and his work The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire (an eighteenth century volume), an idea crept into popular scholarship (and eventually Western, Protestant “scholarship”) that “the first Christians had an insurmountable aversion to the use of images [...] this aversion was a consequence of their Jewish origin” (Ibid, p. 36). Gibbon goes on to make the laughable claim that the first Icons didn’t appear until well into the fourth century, and these ideas have sadly been supported by many, many people ever since. The problem here is not that such a claim flatly ignores the countless evidence to the contrary (Icons have been uncovered in archaeological digs from the first century onward, not only in catacombs and burial places for clergy and laity, but also in Jewish synagogues and early Christian “house churches”), but that this “worldview” and approach to scholarship/history is based upon unbelief. In other words, what the Church teaches probably isn’t true, so let’s find out what is. This approach to scholarship is of the Evil One, as it is based upon doubt and skepticism, and not faith — a Faith that is supposed to be grounded in the “One Holy, Catholic and Apostolic Church,” precisely as the Nicene Creed says. This is, sadly and tragically, the default scholarly worldview of the Protestant West.

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Liturgy and Image

Icon of the Triumph of OrthodoxyOuspensky notes in his work that for Orthodox Christians, the Catholic Church’s liturgy is intimately connected with the presence of sacred images, or Icons. One cannot exist or have any real meaning without the other, basically. He writes:

It is absolutely impossible to imagine the smallest liturgical rite in the Orthodox Church without icons. The liturgical and sacramental life of the Church is inseparable from the image.
Leonid Ouspensky, Theology of the Icon, Volume 1, p. 8

This is the case because — for one reason, at least — our communion with God is not limited to words (or time/space, for that matter). The Truth conveyed by Icons is one and the same — and of the same authority — with the words of the Fathers or the Holy Gospels, for example. Therefore, St Basil the Great says in his homily On the 40 Martyrs, “That which the word communicates by sound, the painting shows silently by representation.”

Ouspensky continues, noting that the Icon and Liturgy of the Orthodox Faith “complete” one another:

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“Art” is Dead

Art no longer counts for us as the highest manner in which truth obtains existence for itself.

One may well hope that art will continue to advance and perfect itself, but its form has ceased to be the highest need of the spirit.

In all these relationships art is and remains for us, on the side of its highest vocation, something past.

Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel, Vorlesungen über die Asthetik

What Is Art.

Whenever art happens — that is, whenever there is a beginning — a thrust enters history, history either begins or starts over again. History means here not a sequence in time of events of whatever sort, however important. History is the transporting of a people into its appointed task as entrance into that people’s endowment.

Art is the setting-into-work of truth.

Art lets truth originate. Art, founding preserving, is the spring that leaps to the truth of what is, in the work. To originate something by a leap, to bring something into being from out of the source of its nature in a founding leap — this is what the word origin (German Ursprung, literally, primal leap) means.

Martin Heidegger, “The Origin of the Work of Art,” Poetry, Language, Thought, pp. 74-75