Adolf Harnack · 18 of 19

Chapter IV. The Mysteries and Kindred Subjects. · Part 4

But this monkish piety, which prevailed from the Bishops down, had become more and more independent in relation to the State. None of his successors had mastered the Church, like Justinian; and it was the aim of the iconoclastic emperors to reduce it to complete subjection to the State, to make it a department of the State. They sought at the same time to have a State Church into which they could force the sects, Jews and Mohammedans, without imposing what was most obnoxious to them, that which made official Christianity into heathenism —the worship of images. They meant therefore to decide what was Christian, and how the cultus ought to be framed, and in doing so they were aided by the fact that it could be shown without any difficulty that the worship of images was something relatively novel and alien. We cannot say more; for they themselves were violent and rude barbarians, military upstarts, who depended on the sword. They had abandoned the idea of the Church as the chief support of the empire; it was to be the chief servant. Instead of priests they had soldiers. They merely wished that the Church should not give trouble, and that it should be possible in any given case to make whatever use of it the State might require. Image-worship may look like religious barbarism; but it was associated with all the spiritual forces still possessed at that time in Christendom. The iconoclastic imperial power was much more barbarous, though we have to admit that Constantine Copronymus possessed brilliant gifts as a ruler. However, the emperors found bishops who made common cause with them, and it cannot be denied that some of these had religious motives for attacking the images. Here and there the hostility of the Jews and of Islam may have set them thinking about the matter; others sought for means of winning or conciliating the Mohammedans. Their opponents described the Arabians as the teachers of the iconoclastic emperors.

In A.D. 726 Leo the Isaurian took the matter in hand. A general opposition at once arose. “The king must not decide concerning faith” (μὴ δεῖν βασιλέα περὶ πίστεως λόγον ποιεῖσθαι). This general idea accompanied the whole dispute. From the days of Maximus Confessor, the leaders of the Greek Church insisted on the independence of the Church in relation to the State, and the Roman Bishops supported them in their efforts. They were for that very reason on the side of image-worship, just as, conversely, Charlemagne and his Franks were averse from it. At the same time the influence of other motives than those of ecclesiastical politics should not be denied. It was perhaps the greatest and the least expected crisis ever experienced by the Byzantine Church. The issue deprived it of any further independent history, of middle ages, or of a modern era. The image-worshippers, with the Pope at their head, replied to the imperial edict by referring to express divine statutes, to the Labarum of Constantine, and to the great Fathers of the fourth century, who had taught that the worship passed from the image to its prototype. They appealed to a picture at Paneas of which Eusebius had spoken, but above all to the of the Logos. “Had God not become man, we would not portray him in a human form.” The prohibitions of the Old Testament signified nothing to the contrary; for idols are only pictures of things which do not exist. We do not worship idols like the golden calf. He who makes use of the Old Testament in the Jewish fashion and charges the Church with idolatry is a reprobate Jew. Besides, Israel had possessed divine images of its own; it only refused to value them—Moses’ rod, the golden pitcher, the cover of the ark etc.; had it worshipped these, it would not have fallen down before idols. All sculpture made in the name of God was venerable and holy. These were the most important arguments.

But the Emperor appointed a Patriarch favourable to him in Constantinople, and sought to get the Pope of Rome into his power. The latter, in his letters to him defending the images, emphasized the points, first, that there were χειροποίητα (images made with hands) which had been prompted by God, and were therefore sacred and, secondly, ἀχειρποίητα (not made with hands), as e.g., the picture which Christ had sent to Abgar. The latter, the ἀχειροποίητα, played a great, indeed the decisive, role in the Church of the East. Moreover, we see from the Pope’s letters that the imperial edict not only affected image worship as the veneration of idols, stones, walls, and boards, but also the veneration of martyrs as polytheism, and that the military Emperor plumed himself on his likeness to Josiah (Hezekiah). Thereupon the Pope wrote him that the dogmas of the Church were the affair of Bishops and not of the Emperor; as the former might not interfere in civil matters, so neither might the latter in ecclesiastical. The Emperor replied that he was at once Emperor and Priest. But Gregory was not to be dismayed; his second letter was even more forcible than his first. John of Damascus, securely protected by a Khalif, also raised his voice in three apologies on behalf of the images. In these the adoration of images is made to form an integral part of the dogmatic theory of the Incarnation. We adore the Creator who became a creature; with him is inseparably connected the purple garment of the body. Therefore, while God himself cannot be portrayed, the incarnate God can. The Mosaic law only forbade the ‘adoration of service’ (προσκύνησις λατρείας), but not adoration (προσκύνησις) in general. Images are visible forms representative of the invisible; the Son alone indeed is a perfect (identical) copy; but other images are also connected with the subject they portray, and from eternity one of every creature has existed in the . Gregory and John have a very great deal in common in their arguments, so that we see clearly how dependent the former was on Greek writers, but not only is the whole subject more thoroughly treated in John, but it is more strictly based on dogmatics. He even goes so far as to see in the rejection of images Manichæism, the contempt of matter which the God-Logos had hypostatically united with himself. We find a frightful confusion of ideas in an apparently simple and solid argument. All dogma, wherever John lays his hands on it, culminates in the images. The doctrines of the , of death, and the cross, all require this worship.

But the freedom of the Church from the State was also strongly emphasised by the subject of the Khalif, so that once more the parallelism with Gregory’s letters is striking, so much so as almost to cast doubt on the genuineness of the latter or of John’s apologies. It was the prerogative not of Emperors but of Councils to control Church affairs. The power of binding and loosing had been granted not to Emperors, but to Apostles, Bishops, and Doctors. In the second address John assails the Emperor still more sharply. At the same time, he now maintains that the Church is governed by the written and unwritten institutions of the Fathers; the worship of images belongs to the latter. It was difficult to produce proof from tradition, and many patristic passages could be instanced against it. Hence “unwritten” tradition. The adoration of the cross and of relics was always embraced in the defence, and even the Old Testament analogy was cited in its support. In the third address it is again declared that adoration is due only to God and the body united with the Deity, and that the incarnate God is alone to be portrayed. Then the abandonment of Scriptural evidence for images is made up for by an indirect proof. Here it occurs to the apologist, that in fact all the catchwords of orthodox dogma do not exist in the Bible. Next, we have a detailed philosophy of images: the Son is the perfect resemblance of God, and the Holy Ghost of the Son. Images are the ideas of things; man is the likeness of God; the word is the image of thought; recollection of the past and representation of the future are images. Everything is an image, and the image is everything. The themselves are worshipped in their pictures. This is followed by the treatment of the Eucharist, next by a long section on the degrees of worship; it is abasement in presence of the object revered. To this is appended the mention of the curative shadow of the Apostles, the handkerchief, and the boys who ridiculed Elisha. Thus we are led up to relics, saints, and pictures, the crib,. Golgotha, the cross, nails, sheets, swaddling-clothes, and vesture, and again to books of the Gospels, sacred vessels, candlesticks and crosses etc. in the Church. Even the adoration of princes is recalled. Numerous patristic passages, some of them forged, are quoted.

After the death of Leo, and the overthrow of an anti-emperor supported by those friendly to images, the son of the former, Constantine Copronymus, carried out his father’s policy with an iron hand. He summoned the general Synod, already planned by his father, to Constantinople A.D. 754. Three hundred and thirty-eight bishops assembled, but the Patriarchs were absent. Archbishop Theodosius of Ephesus presided. The proceedings are only in part known, through those of the seventh general Council. In the decision (ὅρος) of the Synod Christianity is abruptly contrasted with idolatry, but the veneration of images is idolatry. There were hardly many Bishops, who could or dared use such language honestly or from the heart. The majority played the hypocrite from dread of the emperor in declaring that the veneration of images was a work of Satan, introduced into the Church of the pure doctrine, in order to seduce men from the lofty adoration of God, or in describing painting as the sinful art by which the incarnation of Christ was blasphemed. But it sounds strangest of all to hear that these Bishops charged the image worshippers at once with Nestorianism and Eutychianism. They were Nestorians since it was of course only possible to represent the humanity of Christ, and thus his divinity and humanity were sundered; and they were Eutychians in so far as they sought at the same time to represent his divinity and accordingly confounded it with his humanity. The only image allowed—and this is an important declaration—were the bread and wine in the . Starting from the prohibition of the portrayal of Christ, images in general were argued against. Further, Christianity rejected along with heathenism not only sacrificial, but pictorial, worship. The saints live with God; to recall them to earthly life by means of a dead art was blasphemy. Men ought to continue to worship and invoke them, but to condemn their pictures. No reference seems to have been made to relics. We have now a series of excellently chosen passages from the Bible and the Fathers. In conclusion, stringent penalties were attached to the worship of images, and a string of anathemas crowns the whole. “We also believe that we speak apostolically and have the Holy Spirit.” They had in fact uttered fine propositions, and used words which had ceased for centuries to be heard so distinctly in the Greek Church; but did they themselves believe in these words?

They were under the yoke of the Emperor. The clergy obeyed when the decrees were published; but resistance was offered in the ranks of the monks. Many took to flight, some became martyrs. The imperial police stormed the Churches, and destroyed those images and pictures that had not been secured. The iconoclastic zeal by no means sprang from enthusiasm for divine service in spirit and in truth. The Emperor now also directly attacked the monks; he meant to extirpate the hated order, and to overthrow the throne of Peter. We see how the idea of an absolute military state rose powerfully in Constantinople, how it strove to establish itself by brute force. The Emperor, according to trustworthy evidence, made the inhabitants of the city swear that they would henceforth worship no image, and give up all intercourse with monks. Cloisters were turned into arsenals and barracks, relics were hurled into the sea, and the monks, as far as possible, secularised. And the politically far-seeing Emperor at the same time entered into correspondence with France (Synod of Gentilly, A.D. 767) and sought to win Pepin, History seemed to have suffered a violent rupture, a new era was dawning which should supersede the history of the Church.

But the Church was too powerful, and the Emperor was not even master of Oriental Christendom, but only of part of it. The orthodox Patriarchs of the East (under the rule of Islam) declared against the iconoclastic movement, and a Church without monks or pictures, in schism with the other orthodox Churches, was a nonentity. A spiritual reformer was wanting. Thus the great reaction set in, after the death of the Emperor (A.D. 775), the ablest ruler Constantinople had seen for a long time. This is not the place to describe how it was inaugurated and cautiously carried out by the skilful policy of the Empress Irene, cautiously, for a generation had already grown up that was accustomed to the cultus without images. An important part was played by the miracles performed by the re-emerging relics and pictures. But the lower classes had always been really favourable to them; only the army and the not inconsiderable number of bishops who were of the school of Constantine had to be carefully handled. Tarasius, the new Patriarch of Constantinople and a supporter of images, succeeded, after overcoming much difficulty, and especially distrust in Rome and the East, after also removing the excited army, in bringing together a general Council of about 350 bishops at Nicæa, A.D. 787, which annulled the decrees of A.D. 754. The proceedings of the seven sittings are of great value, because very important patristic passages have been preserved in them which otherwise would have perished; for at this Synod also the discussions turned chiefly on the Fathers. The decision (ὅρος) restored orthodoxy and finally settled it. The first six Synods with their anathemas and canons were first confirmed, and it went on: “We decide with all precision and fitness to set up, along with the form of the precious and life-giving cross, the august and holy images made with colours or of stone or other suitable material, in the holy churches of God, on sacred vessels and garments, on walls and tablets, in houses and on the streets: both the image of our Lord and God and Saviour Jesus Christ, and of our undefiled Lady, the holy mother of God, and of the august angels, and all saintly and pious men; for the prototypes being constantly seen represented in images, the spectators are excited to remember and long for them, and to bestow reverence and due veneration on the images, not indeed the true worship according to our faith which is due to God alone; but (as it becomes us) to make an offering of incense and lights in their honour to the form of the precious and life-giving cross, to the holy Gospels, and the other sacred erections, as was the pious custom of the ancients; for the honour paid to the image passes to the prototype; and he who adores the image adores in it the being or object portrayed.”

Just as at Trent, in addition to the restoration of mediæval doctrine, a series of reforming decrees was published, so this Synod promulgated twenty-two canons which can be similarly described. The attack on monachism and the constitution of the Church had been of some use. They are the best canons drawn up by an Œcumenical Synod. The bishops were enjoined to study, to live simply and be unselfish, and to attend to the care of souls; the monks to observe order, decorum, and also to be unselfish. With the State and the Emperor no compromise was made; on the contrary, the demands of Maximus Confessor and John of Damascus are heard, though in muffled tones, from the canons. Still, though the Byzantine Church possessed in the next period an abbot—Theodorus Studita—who championed, as none but a Nicholas or Gregory could, the over princes of God’s law and the Church, it did not win freedom and independence. However, the repeated and for decades successful attempts made by military Emperors in the ninth century to get rid of the image-worship which had only brought defeat to the State, were finally frustrated. The great Theodore maintained the orthodox cause unflinchingly against Leo the Armenian and Michael the Stammerer. Their successor Theophilus was a relentless foe to images and the monks. Then came an Empress, Theodora, who finally restored the worship. This took place at the Synod held at Constantinople A.D. 842. This Synod decreed that a Feast of Orthodoxy (ἡ κυριακὴ τῆς ὀρθοδοξίας) should be celebrated annually, at which the victory over the iconoclasts should be regularly remembered. Thus the whole of orthodoxy was united in image-worship.

In this way the Eastern Church reached the position which suited its nature. We have here the conclusion of a development consistent in the main points. The divine and sacred, as that had descended into the sensuous world by the incarnation, had created for itself in the Church a system of material, supernatural things, which offered themselves for man’s use. The theosophy of images corresponded to the Neo-platonic conception, connected with that of the Incarnation, of the one unfolding itself in a plurality of graded ideas (original types) down to the earthly. The theme had, as the image-worshippers said, been already touched on by Basil (“the knowledge of the prototype comes through the image”: δι᾽ εἰκόνος ἡ γνῶσις τοῦ ἀρχετύπου γίνεται); Gregory of Nazianzus (“it is the nature of the image to be a copy of the prototype and of what is said”: αὕτη εἰκόνος φύσις μίμημα εἶναι τοῦ ἀρχετύπου καὶ οὗ λέγεται); the Areopagite (“truly visible images are the seen [representatives] of the unseen” ἀληθῶς ἐμφανεῖς εἰκόνες εἰσὶ τὰ ὁρατὰ τῶν ἀοράτων); Theodoret (“sin alone has no copy”) and others. All that had been wanting was a correct understanding and a bold carrying out of the truth. And lastly, that nothing be left out, Aristotelian scholasticism found its account here also. It had been maintained long ago, and supported by reference to the pictures “not made with hands” (ἀχειροποίητα), that not painting, but the tradition and law of the Church created the types—see also the decision of the seventh Council. But Theodorus Studita went still further. To him the picture was almost more important than the correct dogmatic formula; for in his view the relation of the copy to the original was a necessary one, and there was complete identity in so far as while the material was different, the form (the hypostasis) was the same. Theodore maintained that the material was indifferent, but that in the form of the authentic pictures one possessed the real Christ, the real Mary, and the real saints. They all bore their prototype in themselves, and this prototype was independent of the personal impress; it went on imprinting itself from picture to picture, at first spontaneously—for these men caught at the absurdity of images not made with hands (εἰκόνες ἀχειροποίητοι), then through the artist, if he reproduced the type faithfully.

With this science of images composed of superstition, magic and scholasticism we may fitly close the development. The Greek Church has almost entirely excluded plastic representations, and its practice of art has, in consequence of the ban placed on it by the “authentic” picture, never been anything but stunted. No one can deny that the image-worshippers had some in their controversy with the iconoclasts; and for Greek Christianity, as it was, image-worship was a vital question. But in the great conflict waged for a century by the Byzantine Church with the State, not only did its distinctive character, but its freedom, depend on the issue. Great monks had tried to educate the Church up to the idea of freedom. In the fight to retain its character it was victorious; but in that for liberty it succumbed.