Category: Book Review (Page 3 of 7)

Book Review: Early Christian Attitudes toward Images by Steven Bigham (4 of 4)

This blog posting is a continuation of three earlier reviews of Father Steven Bigham’s book.  In this posting I will be reviewing and interacting with Chapter 4: “Eusebius of Caesarea and Christian Images.”

The Importance of Eusebius

Eusebius is famous for his Church History (Historia Ecclesiastica) which chronicles the history of Christianity from the time of Jesus to Constantine’s recognition of Christianity.

Bigham devotes a chapter to Eusebius because his outstanding reputation as a church historian.  Eusebius’ Church History constitutes an importance source for what we know about early Christianity in general and about the attitudes of early Christians towards images in particular.  Bigham also gives Eusebius attention because of his close association with Emperor Constantine.  Constantine’s issuing the Edict of Milan in 313 marked the Church’s transition to an established public institution and the emergence of a Christian society.

Despite his fame as a church historian, Eusebius was nonetheless a controversial figure.  He sided with the Arians and opposed the Council of Nicea (325).  With respect to the icon controversy both sides appealed to Eusebius.  Eusebius was appealed to at the iconoclastic 754 Council of Hieria.  One of the leading defenders of icons in the eighth century controversy, John of Damascus, cited Eusebius in support of icons.

Eusebius as Pro-Icon

Eusebius discussed the statue of Christ and the woman with a hemorrhage at least three times: twice in his Church History (Chapters 7 and 18) and once in his Commentary on Luke (see Note 6, p. 189).  We read in Church History 7.18:

1. 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.

2. 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.

3. 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. [Emphasis added]

Apparently the statue of the miraculous healing was a popular pilgrimage site.  From the phrase “remained to our day” it can be inferred that the statue was not a recent manufacture but had long been existence in Eusebius’ time.  I speculate that the statue might date back to the first century but was disguised as a shrine to the god of healing, Aesclepius.  [This notion is not farfetched.  The secret Christians of Japan would conceal images of Mary or the saints within the Buddha image as a way of preserving their faith in a hostile society.]  The statue’s popularity among early Christians and Eusebius’ positive tone runs against Protestant iconoclasm.

In his Proof of the Gospel Eusebius mentioned that in his time one could visit Mamre, the site of Abraham’s hospitality to the three visitors, and see the terebinth (shrine) of that famous biblical event (Genesis 18).  Eusebius wrote:

And so it remains for us to own that it is the Word of God who in the preceding passage is regarded as divine: whence the place is even today honored by those who live in the neighborhood as a sacred place in Honor of those who appeared to Abraham, and the terebinth can still be seen there.  For they who were entertained by Abraham, as represented in the picture, sit one on each side, and he in the midst surpasses them in Honor (The Proof of the Gospel l V:9 in Bigham pp. 210-211; emphasis added).

Eusebius did not indicate that this was an exclusively Christian pilgrimage site.  It is possible that this was a popular pilgrimage site for Jews and that the Christians saw Christological significance in the person seated in the middle.

In his Life of Constantine 3.3 Eusebius described how Emperor Constantine ordered a huge mural displayed on the front portico of his palace showing a cross directly over the Emperor’s head and an impaled dragon under him.  Eusebius’ admiration for this image runs contrary to the iconoclasm of his alleged letter to Constantia.

Even more striking is Eusebius’ description of Constantinople.  Constantine desired that the new imperial capital be built free of any taint of pagan worship.  Eusebius described in detail the New Rome in Life of Constantine 3.48 and 49:

And being fully resolved to distinguish the city which bore his name with special honor, he embellished it with numerous sacred edifices, both memorials of martyrs on the largest scale, and other buildings of the most splendid kind, not only within the city itself, but in its vicinity: and thus at the same time he rendered honor to the memory of the martyrs, and consecrated his city to the martyrs‘ God. Being filled, too, with Divine wisdom, he determined to purge the city which was to be distinguished by his own name from idolatry of every kind, that henceforth no statues might be worshipped there in the temples of those falsely reputed to be gods, nor any altars defiled by the pollution of blood: that there might be no sacrifices consumed by fire, no demon festivals, nor any of the other ceremonies usually observed by the superstitious. (Book 3.48)

On the other hand one might see the fountains in the midst of the market place graced with figures representing the good Shepherd, well known to those who study the sacred oracles, and that of Daniel also with the lions, forged in brass, and resplendent with plates of gold. Indeed, so large a measure of Divine love possessed the emperor’s soul, that in the principal apartment of the imperial palace itself, on a vast tablet displayed in the center of its gold-covered paneled ceiling, he caused the symbol of our Saviour’s Passion to be fixed, composed of a variety of precious stones richly inwrought with gold. This symbol he seemed to have intended to be as it were the safeguard of the empire itself. (Book 3.49; emphasis added)

Constantine’s attempt to commemorate the bravery of the martyrs and his celebration of Christ’s Passion is far removed from the iconoclasm and austere simplicity of Reformed worship.  In fact the lavishness described by Eusebius’ bears a much closer resemblance to what we see in Orthodox churches today!  Constantine’s appropriation of the arts represents, not a break from Christian Tradition, but rather its extension into Roman culture and public space.  This leads Bigham to write:

Do we not have here the very principle of Christian iconodulia: the distinction between an idol and a Christian image, that is, an art consecrated to idolatrous worship and an art that has been purified of idolatry and used to proclaim the Gospel? (p. 201)

It is important to note that in all the pro-icon evidence presented by Steven Bigham not one described the use of image in early Christian worship.  It would not be a stretch to say that Eusebius’ writings support the pro-icon position.  But it would be a much bigger stretch to claim that Eusebius’ writings support the iconoclastic position.

Eusebius as Anti-Icon

Eusebius’ reputation as an iconoclast comes from a letter he supposedly wrote to Constantine’s half-sister, Constantia.  In response to her request that he send her an image of Christ Eusebius scolds her for making such a request.  The first mention of this letter was at the iconoclastic council of Hieria in 754 (p. 193).  The iconoclastic tone of this letter is unmistakable but the letter raises more questions than it answers.  If Eusebius held to a rigorist interpretation of the Second Commandment then how do we make sense of the positive tone in his Church History and elsewhere?  The letter becomes even more problematic if dated not at the end of Eusebius life but in the middle of his literary career.

In his assessment of Eusebius’ iconophobia Bigham notes that the evidence is quite problematic (see pp. 193-199).  One problem is that the sole evidence consists of one letter set against a whole array of pro-icons statements.  Bigham notes that it is possible that Eusebius underwent a change of mind but this would entail a double change of mind, something highly unlikely and demands more evidence than is available.  Another possibility is that Eusebius concealed his iconoclasm in the face of Constantine’s enthusiastic iconodulia, but this founder in the face that Eusebius’ correspondent was the emperor’s half-sister.  Bigham notes that the simplest solution to this knotty conundrum is to exclude the Letter to Constantia from the Eusebeian corpus (p. 207).

Overall Assessment

Father Steven Bigham’s book makes an important contribution to our understanding of early Christian attitudes to images.  Its value lies in the wide ranging survey of early sources up to Constantine.  In terms of the recent debate between Reformed and Orthodox Christians Bigham does a commendable job showing that the historical evidence does not support but rather challenges the iconoclast presupposition that early Christians were either aniconic or were universally hostile to icons.  Furthermore, the historical evidence points to iconoclasm as a minority position.  This then points to the use of icons as part of the historic Christian and not some innovative add on as some claim it to be.  That icons are part of the historic Christian Faith mirrors the Orthodox position on icons.

I found the book oddly structured.  The third chapter on Christian attitudes before Constantine was over a hundred pages long while the next chapter was relatively short, about twenty pages long, and focused on one particular individual, Eusebius.  Going from one long chapter dealing with a three centuries long period to a chapter focusing on one individual, and ending abruptly with no summary chapter, the book leaves the reader hanging in mid air.

The unevenness of Bigham’s treatment of the evidence is further accentuated by his omitting Epiphanius of Salamis.  While understandable in light of Bigham’s promise that he would devote an entire book to Epiphanius, it does leave the reader with an incomplete picture of how early Christians viewed images.  Note: In 2008, Bigham came out with: Epiphanius of Salamis: Doctor of Iconoclasm? Deconstruction of a Myth.

While there is much to commend about Bigham’s book, the reader should be mindful of the book’s limitations.  One is that it does not cover the iconoclastic controversy in the eighth and ninth centuries.  Another is that Bigham did not explore in depth the theological issues underlying the icon controversy.  For a more comprehensive historical overview combined with a discussion of the theological issues involved I recommend Leonid Ouspensky’s two volume Theology of the Icon (1992) (Vol. 2).  Another highly recommended book is Jaroslav Pelikan’s Imago Dei (1987).

Book Review: Early Christian Attitudes toward Images by Steven Bigham (2 of 4)

This blog posting is a continuation of an earlier review of Fr. Steven Bigham’s book.  In this posting I will be reviewing and interacting with Bigham’s arguments in Chapter 2.

Chapter 2 examines early Jewish attitudes toward images.  This is important because modern Protestant iconoclasm assumes that the early Christians inherited from the Jews a hostile attitude towards images.  However, if it can be shown that there existed an open attitude toward images among early Jews then the basis for the hostility theory becomes problematic.

Steven Bigham notes that a distinction needs to be drawn between figurative art and pagan idols.  He presents Jean-Baptiste Frey’s theory that an alternation took place between a rigorist and less rigorous interpretations of the Second Commandment (pp. 22-23). This challenges the implicit assumption that Jewish opposition to images to be fixed and unchanging.  This new approach allows for more flexible readings of the biblical, rabbinical, and historical data.  It is suggested that a liberal attitude towards images existed from the period of monarchy to the exile, then a rigorist attitude from the restoration to the Hellenistic period.  Later, an accepting attitude was found among the Amoraïm, the successors to the Pharisees.

Biblical Evidences

In sub-section 3 (pp. 22-32), Bigham reviews the biblical evidence for the use of art and images in Israelite worship: Exodus, Numbers, 1 Kings, Ezekiel, and Ecclesiasticus.  In considering the Old Testament evidence, Bigham excludes passages relating to pagan idolatry and examines passages pertaining to Israelite worship (p. 26).

The Tabernacle in Exodus

Bigham finds it significant that Exodus which contained the Second Commandment (Exodus 20:2-6) also contained divine instructions for the construction of the golden cherubim over the Ark of the Testimony (Exodus 25:1-22), as well as the manufacture of curtains embroidered with cherubim (Exodus 26:1, 31).  Bigham notes,

Placed so close to God himself and so intimately linked with the worship of the true God, the cherubim could never be separated from that worship and become themselves the object of misdirected, idolatrous worship.  The cherubim on the Ark of the Testimony are a real problem for the advocates of rigorism, because God himself ordered Moses to have them made.  The untenable contradiction in the divine commands disappears if we assume a relative interpretation of the 2^nd Commandment that allows for non-idolatrous, liturgical images (p. 26).

All too often Protestant iconoclasm has equated idolatry with images, but this is too simplistic a definition.  In his examination of the passage on the bronze serpent, Bigham notes that a sculpted image can be used in a non-idolatrous way.  In response to the poisonous snakes sent to punish the Israelites, God ordered the making of a bronze serpent as a means of healing (Numbers 21:4-9).  Later, King Hezekiah destroyed the serpent because the Israelites had begun to misuse it (2 Kings 18:1-4).  Bigham notes:

This episode shows how an object, an image, normally not considered to be a idol, can become one.  Idolatry is determined by a person’s intention and attitude toward an image, and not by the image itself (p. 27; emphasis added).

What Bigham has done here is to clarify the difference between religious art and idolatry.  Furthermore, he has resolved an apparent contradiction in the Old Testament.  His contextual understanding of the Old Testament passages avoids the difficulties caused by the more rigorist interpretations of the Second Commandment which would clash with subsequent passages that mandate the making of religious art.

In doing so, Bigham has rendered a tremendous service to Reformed-Orthodox dialogue.  In any conversation on the Second Commandment and the proper role of images in worship, it is important that a balanced and biblically based definition of idolatry be established at the outset.  If the two sides start from disparate definitions, the conversation will go nowhere.  One question for the Reformed Christians and Evangelicals to consider is whether Bigham’s understanding is both biblical and balanced.  If not, then they should put forward an alternative definition for the Orthodox to consider.

Solomon’s Temple

 

Bigham describes Solomon’s Temple in 1 Kings to be “a veritable art gallery and a nightmare for the advocates of the rigorist interpretation” (p. 28).  King Solomon did not just replicate the Mosaic Tabernacle, but expanded and elaborated on the religious art work in connection with the worship of Yahweh. He had two enormous cherubim sculpted out of wood and overlaid with gold (1 Kings 6:23-28).

 

Solomon also had cherubim, palm trees, and open flowers carved on all the Temple walls and on the door to the Holy of Holies (1 Kings 6:29-31).  Solomon made a molten sea which was placed over twelve statues of bulls (1 Kings 7:23-26).  Furthermore, Solomon ordered the making of movable stands on which were carvings not just of cherubim, but also of lions and bulls (1 Kings 7:27-37).

 

The laudatory tone with which Solomon’s construction of the Temple for Yahweh was presented and the absence of any criticism makes 1 Kings quite problematic for those who hold to the iconoclastic position.

Solomon’s throne likewise was a huge work of art comprised of ascending steps with sculpted lions on both sides of each step leading to the throne (1 Kings 10:18-20).  While less holy than the Temple, the throne was nonetheless the seat of the Lord’s anointed.  This biblical passage points to an acceptance of images beyond the Temple into “secular” domains.

The favorable attitude among Jews continued into the post-exilic period.  Bigham found in I Maccabees 1:22 and 4:57 evidence that the front of the Second Temple (520-515 BC) had been decorated with gold.

Ezekiel’s vision of the restored Temple continues the favorable attitude towards the use of images.  As a prophecy it is significant because it extends the orthodoxy of religious images from the Mosaic Tabernacle of the past into the future worship of the Messianic Age, i.e., the Christian era.  What is astounding is the profusion of images in Ezekiel’s future temple.

As far as the nearby wall of the inner and outer courts and along upon the wall all around within and without were depicted cherubim and palm trees, between cherub and cherub.  Each cherub had two faces, the face of a man toward a palm tree on one side, and the face of a lion toward a palm tree on the other side.  Thus it was depicted throughout the house all around.  From the floor to the threshold, the cherubim and the palm trees were interspersed upon the walls (Ezekiel 41:17-20; OSB).

Taken together, the combined witness of passages across the Old Testament–from the time of Moses, the royal kingdom, and the prophetic tradition–presents an immense challenge to those who hold to the rigorist interpretation of the Second Commandment which disallows any and all forms of images in connection with the worship of Yahweh.

Non-Religious Images

In sub-section 5 (pp. 34-41), Bigham notes that additional evidence in support of Jewish tolerance or acceptance of images can be found in coins decorated with symbols like wreaths, horns of plenty, palms, cups and amphorae.  It seems that these were accepted by Jewish authorities and rabbis.  Similarly, Bigham found in Josephus’ The Antiquity of the Jews evidence that a certain prominent Jew, Hyrcanus, built a castle decorated with animals engraved on its walls (Bigham p. 37).

 

 

 

 

 

Carving of Lioness on Hyrcanus Palace 

 

Josephus and Philo

In sub-section 6 (pp. 41-66), Bigham examines the evidence used to support the notion that first century Judaism prohibited “images of animate beings” on the basis of the Jewish Law.  Two early sources, Josephus and Philo, have been used to bolster the claim that first century Judaism was by and large iconophobic.  Bigham notes that behind this iconophobia was hostility to symbols of Roman rule.  In other words the first century rigorist reading of the Second Commandment may be rooted just as much in politics as in religion (p. 44).  Josephus in his Antiquities XVIII, III, 1, explained that Jewish opposition to the Romans display of the emperor’s image on military standards was due to the Second Commandment. However, Bigham notes:

We can also see Josephus’s motivation for painting the incident in religious, rather than its obvious political colors: The Roman authorities for whom Josephus wrote would be less offended by an insult to the emperor’s image based on the Jews’ well-known sensitivity in religious matters.  In any case, Josephus’s presentation of the Law – “our law forbids us the very making of images” – is simply wrong since previous and subsequent Jewish history shows that such images were made and accepted under certain conditions (p. 45).

 

Recent Archaeological Discoveries

In sub-section 7 (pp. 66-78), Father Bigham devotes several pages (pp. 66-70) to the archaeologists’ discovery of the Jewish synagogue in Dura Europos in 1932. Its complete burial allowed it to be preserved virtually intact. Due to the widespread assumption at the time that early Judaism was aniconic, the building was initially mistaken for a Greek temple.

 

The Dura Europos synagogue has profoundly challenged many misconceptions of early Jewish worship.  The Dura Europos synagogue was not an isolated exception; other ancient synagogues had figurative arts (p. 67).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This leads Bigham to write:

… it seems increasingly clear that Judaism led the way in developing figurative art and that Christianity followed, at least at the beginning.  We have already seen that this hypothesis is upheld by many scholars.  Even in areas other than art, we see the same phenomenon: early Christianity often modeled itself on its Jewish parent.  “For the ancestry of most elements of early church worship, we must look to the synagogue rather than the home … (C. Filson)” (Bigham p. 68)

These archaeological evidences present serious problems for those who hold to the hostility theory, especially on the assumption that early Judaism was uniformly aniconic and iconophobic (Bigham p. 89).  However, if first century Judaism accepted religious art, then it makes sense that the early Christianity reflected its Jewish roots.  It can then be argued that it is the iconoclastic hostility theory that represents an alien intrusion into Christian history.  The hostility theory was easy to uphold when the evidence was buried in the ground but when archaeological discoveries over the past century unearth these evidences that theory lost its foundation.

Religious Art in Early Jewish Synagogues

In addition to the startling discoveries at Dura Europos, there are other evidence of religious art in Jewish synagogues.

 

 The zodiac mosaic at Beth Alpha was not an isolated example.  Other similar zodiacs have been found in Israel, e.g., Hammath Tiberias on the shore of the Sea of Galilee, Naaran near Jericho, Sepphoris slightly north of Nazareth, En Gedi by the Dead Sea, and Huseifa near Mt. Carmel.

 

 

Religious Art in Medieval Judaism

 

An examination of religious art in medieval Judaism shows an attitude more accepting of religious art than that found in the Reformed tradition.  One example is the carving of images on the ark in the Butzian Synagogue in Cracow, Poland. 

 

Findings and Conclusion

Fr. Steven Bigham has conducted a wide ranging review of evidence about early Jewish attitudes toward images.  The evidences include both biblical and extra-biblical sources, as well as secular literary sources and archaeological evidences.  Bigham notes that the evidence is not conclusive, but it does call into question the assumption that early Judaism was uniformly and rigidly opposed to images.  Early Jewish acceptance of images even in the context of synagogue worship lays the historical basis for the acceptance of images in early Christian worship.

Robert Arakaki