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lunedì 18 maggio 2015

Emanuela Fogliadini. The Invention of the Sacred Image. The Ecclesial Legitimation of the Icon at the Second Council of Nicaea, Jaca Book 2015. Part One

Translation by Francesco Mazzaferro
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Emanuela Fogliadini
L'invenzione dell'immagine sacra
La legittimazione ecclesiale dell'icona
al secondo concilio di Nicea
[The Invention of the Sacred Image. 
The Ecclesial Legitimation of the Icon 
at the Second Council of Nicaea]
Part One

Jaca Book, 2015

Saviour Made Without Handse, Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow XII century
Source: http://www.tretyakovgallery.ru/en/collection/_show/image/_id/2933


Historical events

The history of the fight for or against the use of sacred images is normally circumscribed by referring to the Second Council of Nicaea (787) which acknowledged their cult. In reality, it is a struggle that went on for over a century and which, for our convenience, can be summarized in the following stages (we should first point out that at that time the East–West schism, dating back to 1054, had not yet occurred):

The Council of Hieria (754) marks the proclamation of iconoclasm. The policy of refusal of any image is strongly supported by the Emperors Leo III first and Constantine V later on, who convenes and participates in the council.

The Ecumenical Council of Nicaea (787): it is the seventh and last Ecumenical Council. It reflects, in political terms, the change in imperial guidance. After the death of Constantine V and the premature decease of Leone IV, Constantine VI becomes emperor. On his behalf, however, the regency is held by his mother Irene (who, incidentally, will first order to blind her own child and later on to kill him). The mother is close to iconophile positions and promotes the council, which is also joined by Pope Adrian.

Second iconoclasm: the imperial policy in favour of images actually lasts a few years only, i.e. until 814, when Leo V calls for a new synod in Constantinople, which declares the declaration of faith of Nicaea for abolished and restores the directives of Hieria. In reality, while reiterating the condemnation of the images, the second iconoclasm reveals a less drastic attitude against icons, simply defining the veneration of images as essentially useless.

The situation remained fluid for decades, but with a substantial recovery of the iconophile theses, eventually leading to the abolition of iconoclasm 843 and the proclamation of the Feast of Orthodoxy, the first Sunday of Lent, which celebrated the cult of icons.




Saviour made without hands. The reverse, Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow XII century
Source: 
http://www.tretyakovgallery.ru/en/collection/_show/image/_id/2934

A comprehensive approach

So far the historical data. The fundamental thesis of the authoress (who is a theologian) may look like trivial in its simplicity, but is indeed very strong in its merits. Reading the mere list of historical events, the importance that the emperors had in the unfolding of the events becomes clear; importance that suggests that the whole issue of iconoclasm depends on the 'political decisions' of the emperors. Iconoclasm would have been an imperial decision, imposed on a hierarchy which is weak and flattened on the positions of temporal power, and on a society that instead would sincerely be iconophile. Not surprisingly – as Fogliadini (whose interesting arguments are unfortunately weakened by a certain lack of conciseness) states - this was the version that was accredited by the Orthodox Church, after the victory of the party of the images. The proceedings of the Council of Hieria, as well as the list of bishops who participated, were entirely destroyed; the main actors of this camp were covered with insults (starting with Constantine V, since then called the coprophagos Emperor, i.e. the eater of dung) and the whole story was depicted as an imposition from above. A pervasive manipulation of all previous events was implemented (history is always written by the winners): it was said, for example, that, in the face of an ecclesiastical hierarchy with no backbone and corrupted, it was the whole monastic world to rise in defence of images. Not by chance, hagiographies of saints were drafted, in order to recall the persecutions and the sufferings that they had to endure, precisely because of the defence of the right to worship icons.


Now, it is more than obvious that a controversy that goes on for a century cannot be reduced to a simple series of episodes or wrongdoings. A debate took place and it was purely theological. This book recalls its terms and contents, combining theology and historiography (net of manipulations made by the winning iconophile party). Equally, the authoress also intends to clarify that the "status of images", resulting from a century of struggles, changed radically the way such images were intended in the Eastern world, by assigning a theological-revelatory meaning to them, which was never taken up by the Roman Church. This created the foundation, in religious terms, for the subsequent East-West schism, but also - and this is what we are interested in - for the development of a totally divergent artistic representation of the Orthodox world and of the Roman Catholic Church.


Our Lady of the Great Panagiya (Oranta)
Tretyakov, Gallery, Moscow XIII century
Source: 
http://www.tretyakovgallery.ru/en/collection/_show/image/_id/2593

Until Hieria

The Christian world as a whole does not seem to face the problem of the images, in the first few centuries after Christ. If there is a problem, it is obviously that of the Word; or the legitimacy of a series of texts, the Gospels, representing the Incarnate Word, and the exclusion of others, which do not appear orthodox compared to the former (for example, the so-called apocryphal gospels). When sacred images appear (and, clearly, the real spread of the iconographic phenomenon occurs starting with the sixth century AD), they are understood in a didactic-commemorative sense. Thus, they are designed to remind events that are narrated in the Gospels and explain them to a public of poor and illiterate. It is no coincidence that Gregory the Great (precisely in the sixth century AD) speaks of images as the 'Bible of the poor'. The pictorial representations are therefore subordinate to the Word of God.

This approach to sacred image remained intact in the West, but was not considered sufficient within the Eastern Roman Empire. There is no doubt (as evidenced by the sources) that in the East there were excesses that created disconcert in the religious world: for instance, the practice to scrape gold dust from the icons in the chalice of the Eucharist (p. 191). Faced with these excesses, but also reacting to the anti-iconic choice of Hebraism and especially Islam, which was rapidly spreading, the Eastern Church felt the need to develop a hitherto unknown theological apparatus, condemning idolatrous behaviours, based on a belief that should regain its spiritual dimension. Iconoclasm, in short, is not the whim of an emperor, but was born and shaped over the centuries until it flows into the council of Hieria. The Emperor (Leo III first and Constantine V later on, who is the one who convenes the council) listens to these concerns, shares them and even engages in a spirit of constructive cooperation with the ecclesiastical world in the theological debate. It is known that, at the Council, Constantine V formulated his contribution in written form in the Peuseis, a work that Iconophiles did not hesitate to destroy in every copy following their victory, but of which fortunately we know the contents in a piecemeal fashion, thanks to the replication in their rebuttal by the Patriarch Nicephorus of Constantinople, who wrote them down in part, with the purpose of their dismissal.



Saviour on the Throne, with Selected Saints, Tretyakov Gallery. Moscow, XIII century
Source: http://www.tretyakovgallery.ru/en/collection/_show/image/_id/2609


The Council of Hieria

A first factor is clear: before Hieria, there was no theology of the sacred image, whether for or against it. The image was intended - as mentioned - in the didactic-commemorative sense, to support the explanation of the Gospels. What is discussed in the Council of 754 is whether an image can represent or not the dual nature of Christ, the divine and the human. In his Peuseis Constantine V denies this possibility, on the basis of two assumptions: the first (almost given for implicit) is the physical coincidence between the image and the represented subject; the image is not made "in the likeness" of the subject, but is the subject itself, namely God. It follows (and this is the second assumption) that it is impossible to depict Christ, because in him, in an unconfused and so closely linked manner, live both the human (circumscribed) and the divine (not to be circumscribed) nature. To depict Christ means to circumscribe the divinity, and as such to deny it. It is important to note that the iconoclastic arguments are always raised in defence (and not in a refutation) of divine incarnation; it is exactly the same principle that will lead Iconophiles to reach diametrically opposed considerations. However, since it is true that God became incarnate, and since it is equally true that his divine nature cannot be circumscribed, the only representation that we can admit is, at best, one of a purely symbolic nature, like it can be the host of the Eucharist.

It is not at all trivial to dwell on the theory of Constantine, particularly in light of the fact that they were not accepted by the Council, demonstrating that this event was not simply a clergy parade called to ratify the whims of a tyrant, but an open discussion, which resulted in findings that the Emperor recognized and to which he held. In particular, the participants in the Council were not convinced by the identification between image and subject, too open to criticism on the basis that this could consist of a simple similarity. Instead, a principle of substantially Greek-Hellenistic, and especially Platonic philosophy was adopted: the impossibility of the real world to represent any otherworldly nature, or the gap between the world of reality (the icon) and the world of ideas (God ). Given that God became incarnate and that the flesh of Christ is of a deified nature, what is offending the incarnation is precisely the material substance that constitutes the sacred image: wood, gold, pigments, in their petty physicality, can even not remotely be used to represent the divine physical nature of Christ.


All council fathers voted for iconoclasm. Hence the thesis (developed after the eventual final triumph of iconophiles) that it was a manipulated gathering. Not at all, as we have seen. Likewise, it is certain that, while the monastic world was split, it largely embraced the iconoclast doctrine. Of course there were dissident voices, in particular Germanus of Constantinople and John of Damascus, but these expressions of dissent will be given importance only in Nicaea, and will have little impact at their time, either because silenced with the resignation of the patriarch (Germanus) or because they come from the periphery of the empire (John).

END OF PART ONE

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