Metamorphosis THE TRANSFIGURATION IN BYZANTINE THEOLOGY AND ICONOGRAPHY i { Andreas Andreopoulos ST VLADIMIR’S SEMINARY PRESS CRESTWOOD, NEW YORK 2005 4AS: Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Andreopoulos, Andreas. 1966— Metamorphosis : the Transfiguration in Byzantine theology and iconography / Andreas Andreopoulos. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 0-88141-295-3 (alk. paper) 1. Jesus Christ—Transfiguration—Art. 2. Orthodox Eastern Church—In art. 3. Christian art and symbolism—Byzantine Empire. 4. Image (Theology) 5. Bible. N.T-—Theology. _ I. Title. N8180.A53 2005 246'.53'09495—de22 2005022057 COPYRIGHT © 2005 by Andreas Andreopoulos ST VLADIMIR’S SEMINARY PRESS 575 Scarsdale Rd, Crestwood, NY 10707 1-800-204-2665 www.svspress.com All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, except as may be expressly permitted by the 1976 Copyright Act, of in writing from the publisher. ISBN 0-88141-295-3 PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICAre Acknowledgments y former doctoral supervisor, Fr Andrew Louth of the Uni- versity of Durham, who has often helped me with his critical support and his inspiration, suggested the idea for this book. Most of the research and writing took place at the Pontifical Institute of Mediaeval Studies in Toronto. It began as a dissertation toward the License of Medi- aeval Studies, but it was possible to continue it and expand it beyond the framework of a dissertation with a fellowship from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada, also conducted at the Pon- tifical Institute of Mediaeval Studies. I would like to thank all the people from PIMS who assisted me with small and big things, and especially among them my friend and LMS supervisor, Sheila Campbell, who fol- lowed this work at every stage with great interest. The final phase was written with the support of a Mellon Fellowship at the Penn Humanities Forum, University of Pennsylvania. I also had the chance to present parts of this work and receive feedback from the fac- ulty of the departments of Art History (especially Renata Holod) and Reli- gious Studies (especially Ann Matter). I would also like to thank Fr John Behr of St Vladimir’s Seminary for his invaluable help. My colleagues at the Penn Humanities Forum, Yaakov Mascetti and Michael Bailey, shared my concerns and my joys at the last stages. Finally, I want to thank Carol Blumentritt, Amber Schley, and especially Deborah Belonick, of St Vladimir’s Seminary Press, who carefully toiled over every word, phrase, and placement of image. Philadelphia, PA Feast of the martyr Theodosia of Constantinople, the defender of the holy icons 2004 eyPermission for use of the following images has been granted by: The Transfiguration—illamination from a manuscript containing the works of Gregory Nazianzinos, 9th century; Paris, Bibliotheque Nationale, Cod. gr. 510, fol.75/ Bibliotheque nationale de France The Transfiguration—illumination from a manuscript containing the theological works of John VI Kantakouzenos, 1370-1375 CE; Paris, Biblioth¢que Nationale, Cod. gr. 12.42, fol. 92v/ Bibliothéque nationale de France The Transfiguratioy Theodore Bazil St Apollinaris in Classe, $33~547 aD; Ravenna, Italy/ The Transfiguration—apse mosaic, 6th century; the monastery of St Catherine on Mount Sinai / the monastic community and the abbot of St Catherine on Mount Sinai, His Emi- nence Damianos, Archbishop of Sinai, Pharan, and Raith ‘The Transfiguration—fresco, Dark Church, rth century; Cappadocia, Turkey /A Turizm Yayinlari, Lid ‘The Transfiguration—miniature mosaic, ¢. 1200, Constantinople; Paris, Louvre Réunion des Musées Nationaux / Art Resource, NY The Transfiguration—mosaic, Daphni monastery, 11th century; Greece; Erich Lessing/ Art Resource, NY The Resurrection—early 14th century, Chora monastery; Istanbul; Vanni/ Art Resource, NY The Transfiguration—Theophanes the Greek (¢. 1330-1410), 1403 Ab; Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow; Scala / Art Resource, NY. Traditio legis—mosaic, St Costanza, sth century; Rome; Seala / Art Resource, NYTable of Contents FoREWwORD, INTRODUCTION Divine Light and Glory Elements of Iconography The Place of the Icon in Prayer The Power of the Icon as Presence The Union of Earthly and Heavenly Realities Cuaprer 1: The Theology of the Transfiguration Sources of Information The Synoptic Gospels The Epistles Apocryphal Sources ‘A Brief Discussion of Sources The Gospels, Epistles, and Apocryphal Writings Philosophical Writings from Pagan Antiquity The Jewish Tradition The Patristic Tradition CHAPTER 2: The Iconography of the Transfiguration Connections between Theology and Iconography Visual Contemplation and Depiction The Development of the Transfiguration Icon Charer 3: Elements of the Transfiguration Icon The Mandorla Kabod: The Glory of God The Oval Mandorla nn 1 15 TS 23 23 27 34 37 38 39 39 ar 4a 50 53 60 67 67 70 75 83 86 90‘The Round Mandorla Iconographic Anomalies The Missing Cloud The Absence of the Voice of God The Placement of Mount Thabor Cuaprer 4: Pre-Sinaitic Transfiguration Icon Types The Saint Sabina Scene The Brescia Casket Scene The Rabbula Gospels Illumination The Unity between the Two Testaments Conclusions about the Three Images Cuaprer 5: Saint Apollinaris in Classe The Glory of Paradise The Cross in the $ “By this, you shall conquer” The Lamb and the Sheep Cuaprer 6: Saint Catherine Monastery on Mount Sinai ‘A Description of the Mosaic The Two Natures of Christ Iconographical Complexities Visual Prototypes Conclusions Cuaprer 7: Cosmic Transfiguration Craprer 8: The Representation of the Apostles The Positions of the Apostles The Position of Peter Cuaprer 9: The Transfiguration and the Icon of the Resurrection The Arrangement of the Figures Flanking Christ 96 96 97 99 Tor 102 106 108 TIL 114 139 143The White Garments of Christ 164 The Mandorla 165 ‘Theological Connections 166 Carter ro: The Lost Mosaic 169 The Church of the Holy Apostles 169 The Hand of God 174 Cuaprer 11: The Ascent of the Oval Mandorla 179 Effects of Iconoclasm 179 Symeon the New Theologian 185 Cuaprer 12: The Mountain of Ascent 193 From Sinai to Thabor 193 The Separation of Heaven and Earth 204 ‘Western Depictions of Thabor 206 Cnapter 13: Influences of Hesychasm 209 The Renaissance Style of the Paleologians 209 The Flowering of Hesychastic Theology 214 The Hesychastic Mountain 225 The Hesychastic Mandorla 228 The Mandorla as a Cosmic Map 235 Cuaprer 14: The Slavic World 243 Theophanes the Greek and Andrei Rublev 244 The Novgorod Icon 252 Conelusion 253 Notes 255 BIBLIOGRAPHY 273 INDEX OF FIGURES 279 INDEX 281 seForeword n the controversy over iconoclasm in eighth- and ninth-century Byzantium, the defenders of the Orthodox veneration of icons made it clear that icons were a visual parallel to the Scriptures. When St John Damascene came to the kind of image represented by the pictures that we now call “icons”—images of past persons and events that bring them to our memory—he says, “this kind of image is twofold: through words written in books . . . and through things seen by the sense of sight. St Theodore the Studite, too, made a famous comparison between Gospels “written in ink” and icons “written in gold.” This parallel served the purpose of aligning both the existence of icons and their veneration with the Scriptures: icons, with the immediacy of sight, could serve as “books for the illiterate,” while the veneration of the Gospel book both clarified and justified the veneration of icons. The parallel between the Scriptures and icons goes deeper, for both are ways of setting forth the events of God’s saving history and the figures involved in it: Christ, the Mother of God, and the saints; they are means of proclamation of the gospel, but as such they stand in need of interpre- tation. Interpretation of the Scriptures and interpretation of icons would seem, then, to be significantly parallel. Just as the writers of the works contained in the Scriptures drew on rhetoric, narrative technique, metaphor, and symbolism, so too the icon painters developed painterly means of expression suited to what they were secking to express in the icon, In doing this, they drew not just on artistic techniques that had developed in their milieu but also on visual analogies to the literary forms of expression found in the Scriptures. Art historians have noted how the icon tradition develops what can only be called a “rhetoric.” Despite this, relatively little has been done to explore the parallels between icons and Holy Scripture—save the noting of themes and objects12 METAMORPHOSIS from the Scriptures given expression in icons. However, if the parallel sug- gested above has real validity, then a genuine appreciation of Orthodox iconography needs to know how that tradition is related to the Scriptures. The relationship seems to me to operate on two levels. First, where we started from, where the Scriptures and icons are parallel ways of disclos- ing the mystery of Revelation, so that the icon in some way functions as does Holy Scripture; something that becomes somewhat clearer when we recall that for the Fathers of the Church the Scriptures function as a place of encounter between the Word of God and humankind, which is why veneration is an appropriate response. Second, on a more hermeneutical level, where our concern is with interpretation, so that the parallel is between exegesis and iconography, with icons being seen as a way of interpreting the revelation to which the Scriptures are witness. Here, the point is to explore the way in which the methods of exegesis found in the church fathers—ways of interpreting that make use of symbol and alle- gory, and the way in which these expose a network of reference within Sctipture—are transformed into painterly techniques by the icon painters. At one level, this parallelism is something with which liturgically informed Orthodox are already familiar; interpretation of icons frequently draws on the liturgical texts associated with a feast or a saint to draw out the significance of a particular icon, in this way reflecting the primary associ- ation of the icon with the liturgy. One can hardly look at an icon of the Anastasis (Resurrection) without recalling the words of the Easter tropar- ion (“trampling down death by death”); as one also recalls the kontakion for Easter (“Though you descended into a tomb, © Immortal One, yet you destroyed the power of Hell; and you arose as victor, © Christ God .. .”) and the verses of the Easter canon, then more and more is revealed in the icon of the Anastasis. However, the liturgical texts can, for the most part, be seen as a kind of epitome of the patristic interpretation of the relevant scriptural texts (“relevant” being a crucial word, because the cross-refer encing implicit in symbolic or allegorical exegesis draws into its net more than the immediately obvious). There is, indeed, already one book giving an example of the kind of thing that is possible when traditions of scriptural exegesis and iconographic interpretation are brought together. I refer to the work by"=< Foreword 13 Fr Gabriel Bunge, The Other Paraclete (shortly to be published in English translation), which draws together the history of exegesis of the event recorded in Genesis 18 of the visit of three men, or angels, to Abraham and Sarah and iconographic representations of this event (often called “The Hospitality of Abraham,” and only later “The Holy Trinity”). This isa trail-blazing book, and it is down this trail, marked out by Fr Gabriel, that Andreas Andreopoulos has pursued his research. His topic is perhaps the most obvious one—so obvious, itis difficult to understand why no one thought of doing it before—that is, the event of the Transfiguration of the Lord. It is a supremely viswal event, almost everything described—the shining face, the white robes—is something seen, and in some sense it rep- resents the climax of the revelation of the Son of the Father in the Spirit. Ie is certainly not by chance that this event and its interpretation assumed such a central role in the hesychastic controversy, nor that, in many tra- ditions of Orthodox icon painting, it is with an icon of the Transfigura- tion thae the novice painter begins. It was also one of the events in the life of the Lord that fascinated the Fathers: there is a long, complex, and remarkably diverse exegetical tradition. Dr Andreopoulos explores all this in his remarkable book. In evident ways, we shall see, the exegetic tra- dition sheds light on aspects of the iconographic tradition of the Trans- figuration, but also, we shall see too, the iconographic tradition brings to light features of the Gospel account that might otherwise be passed over. The net result is not just to expose the depths of the iconographic tradi- tion, but also to present the iconographic tradition as a form of visual the- ology, quite as subtle as anything we might find in the more familiar forms of theology. The reader of this book who finds him or herself passing through what, for much of the time, constitutes a series of meditations on the Transfiguration and the mysteries connected with it—the nature of Son- ship, the revelation of the Trinity, the mystery of the relationship of the two Covenants or Testaments—will also find any preconceived notion of theology called in question, for contemplation of the Transfiguration, of the radiant face of the Lord, suggests that at its heart theology is not some human discipline of ordering our thoughts about the divine, but rather what the Apostle Paul meant when he spoke of God “who has shone in a14 METAMORPHOSIS our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ” (2 Cor 4.6). Father Andrew Louth Professor of Patristics and Byzantine Studies University of DurhamIntroduction DIVINE LIGHT AND GLORY he Transfiguration of Jesus Christ, an event described in Holy Scripture and pondered by theologians throughout the centuries, is one of the most captivating concepts of Christianity. Nothing can rival its metaphysical splendor, It is a pity that both the Christian East and the Christian West currently do not give it the attention it deserves. In the West, it has declined to a minor feast. In the East, despite the rich theo- logical thought that surrounds it—especially within the tradition of hesy- chasm—its liturgical importance has been dwarfed by its proximity to the feast of the Dormition of the Mother of God. Yet, this metamorphosis! of our Lord on Mount Thabor encompasses and explicates core Christian bel disputes, explained the continuity of the Scriptures, and clarified how human beings united with God, both here on earth and in the hereafter. ; early Christian sources viewed it as the event that solved doctrinal Multi-layered themes, concepts, and lessons, with cosmic consequences, s showed his divine glory to his surround the transformation in which Je: disciples—and through them, to us. The ‘Transfiguration is primarily a celebration of the glory of God and the divine light. Light is often synonymous with God in the New Testa- ment, especially in John’s Gospel, and is one of the metaphors the Fathers of the Church used, repeatedly and in many different ways, to refer to divinity. Patristic writers developed several successive fragments of the theology of light, building on the Johannine theme of light versus dark- ness and on the Platonist tradition of the Sun as a metaphor for the God- head. Within this context, carly theology provided the expression “light of light” for the Nicene Creed to describe the relationship between the 15 ey16 METAMORPHOSIS Father and the Son most succinctly; this analogy in the Creed was fol- lowed by the explicative “true God of true God.” ‘The metaphor of light was used in other ways as well. Baptism was seen as an “illumination” from the darkness of idolatry to the light of Christ, and it was often referred to in this manner. A mystical strand that is best represented by pseudo-Dionysios the Areopagite? developed the idea of divine darkness as an additional stage within the theology of light. “Dark- ness” here refers to two concepts: the mystical unknowing (the higher asce- tic stages where conscious or intellectual knowledge is left behind); and the excessive light that overwhelms the eye and, thus, is perceived as darkness. Moreover, the contemplative prayer of the ascetics of the desert was sometimes accompanied by the experience of the uncreated light, some- thing we can see as early as pseudo-Makarios in the fourth century, where the experience of the light was already connected with the Transfiguration of Christ. The experience of the God as light became even more widely known through the writings of the tenth-century saint Symeon the New Theologian and was fully expressed in the hesychastic theology of the fourteenth century, although it was at least ten centuries old by then. The scriptural depiction of the Transfiguration is impressive, and strongly associated with the divine light. Let us, for a moment, try to imagine how the three apostles who witnessed it experienced this event. Although the three fishermen had already given a confession of faith to Christ, and although they had realized that he was the Messiah, “the Christ, the Son of the living God” (Mr 16.16), they could not have expected the body of their master to change into a body of light and his face to become so bright that they could not bear to look at it, At the same time, two revered figures of their religious tradition appeared in front of them: one thought to be no less than the founder of Judaism and the other the beloved prophet who never died but ascended to heaven. To top it all, they heard the voice of God the Father himself and, not surprisingly, fell on the ground in terror—all this within a religion that, more than any oth- ets, stressed the transcendental nature of God. Most of us would have been overcome by this theophany and suffered a heart attack on the spot! The Fathers write that the three apostles were granted the experience and sustained it because of the grace of God.Introduction 17 God spoke on other occasions as well, both in the Old Testament and the New Testament. The voice of God brings to mind images as awesome as when he spoke to Moses from the burning bush, as subtle as when he spoke to Elijah in a still small voice, and as authoritative as when he spoke in front of a great crowd at the Baptism of Jesus Christ. Compared to these instances, the voice of God at the Transfiguration seems relatively diminished in importance, both theologically and iconographically. Instead, another image pervades, one that happens to be most strongly expressed in iconography: the image of Christ as light, associated with the implicit promise that our bodies may also be transfigured into light after the resurrection of the dead. This hope of return to paradise is at the heart of Christianity and, in varying degrees, is present in every religion. Nevertheless, it is more diffi- cult to visualize and describe the form of humanity in the kingdom of God, What does it mean not only to return to the primordial bliss but also actually to surpass it? Though it is difficult to “remember” paradise (if there is such a thing as a collective spiritual memory) and to conceptualize what it used to be like in the immediate presence of God in the beginning of human history, human beings have described, analyzed, and pondered the events in the garden of Eden for centuries. Christian Scripture, doctrine, and tradition describe our final condition as surpassing the glory, completeness, and perfection of Adam and Eve. However, human ability to visualize the end of time at the Second Coming, after the apocalyptic drama and the Last Judgment, is more difficult. Our images of the last things end at best with vague postapocalyptic images from the final chapters of the book of Rev- elation, not only because similar events have never occurred but also because human beings do not have the faculties, mental categories, or vocabulary to speculate further into what is no less than a new meta- ential condition for the entire world. physical and exi Moreover, and more often than not, we think of the afterlife in terms of the reward or punishment for good and evil deeds. This view is directly dependent on the fear of hell, eternal judgment, and punishment and has been grossly exploited. But a view based on fear is plainly hedonistic; it promotes positive action as a way to avoid punishment and suggests a18 METAMORPHOSIS trade between temporary pleasure in this lifetime and eternal pleasure in the other. Ultimately, and regrettably, this view is not too different from promises regarding enormous sensual delight in the afterlife, such as rivers of honey and seventy-two, ever-virgin sex slaves per worthy warrior—an equally debated interpretation of certain passages from the Koran and the Islamic tradition. It is obvious that genuinely good choices are based on morality (even if we accept that metaphysical morality is not necessarily the same as the morality of this world), on a discernment of right and wrong, and not on a pseudo-spiritual hedonism. Seen from a viewpoint closer to the central tenets of Christianity, the only genuine motivation for any spiritual action is nothing less than desire for God, unselfish and without any expecta- tions. Ironically, the metaphor used by the Fathers of the Church and the liturgical language used to describe this desire is erotic passion, and the Song of Songs has been read by generations in exactly this way; erotic pas- sion, in this case, however, represents the burning flame of love between God and the human soul—actually, a spiritual relationship. In contrast with the materialist, sensual paradise, this erotic passion reflects the unselfish longing for the beloved. Further, one of the problems that has haunted Christianity from the beginning and still continues to be a problem in contemporary culture— even if philosophically and theologically it was resolved centuries ag0— is our corporeality in the Eschaton (end times), the question of whether human existence in the kingdom of heaven will be a purely spiritual one, or a bodily one as well. This problem is closely connected with the ques- tion of how much we “are” our body—whether the center of our exis- tence is to be identified with our spiritual nature only, in which case our body is nothing more than an exchangeable shell (as theories of reincar- nation argue), or whether we “are” equally spiritual and corporeal. Although the Church answered this very early and very clearly—usually Pointing to the doctrine of the Resurrection as a resurrection of the body that would be reunited with the immortal soul—popular spirituality, even within Christian culture, keeps repeating dualistic Neoplatonic or orien- tal beliefs on reincarnation and disembodied spirituality. The resilience of such beliefs may nor be explained theologically or philosophically,Beets st eee et ee ere ete ete ceed Introduction 19 because there is not much that they can offer to a dialogue within Chris- tianity. More likely, they reflect a psychological uncertainty about the fate of the body in a glorious post-apocalyptic existence. The doctrine of the cingly what the al, eternal pro- resurrection of the dead is not sufficient to illustrate con’ Fathers of the Church have described as an eschatolo cession “from glory to glory.” The Transfiguration is one of the keys that can unlock the mystery of our eschatological fate, break the hedonistic/pseudo-moralist stereotype, and give us a clear picture of our bodily self in the postapocalyptic glory of God. It shows that the upper limit of human existence, the fulfillment of our being, is within a glorified body. Deification, the spiritual task and hope of every Christian, is the participation in the energies of God;3 through this participation occurs the transformation not only of our own selves but also of the entire world, to a world of light and glory. Through hrist our own end and purpose becomes visible. Ie is s ured in front of his apostles shortly before his Passion, Crucifixion, and Resurrection. The Fathers say that he did so in order to give strength to them, to prepare them for his the Transfiguration of ignificant that Christ was trans forthcoming suffering. Indeed, anyone who witnesses and understands the Transfiguration naturally should expect the Resurrection. This is true not only regarding the Transfiguration and the Resurrection of Christ but also regarding the spiritual transfiguration and the resurrection of the body as the ultimate destiny of all believers. The Transfiguration of Christ was also the inspiration to saints who explained (their) ascetical ascent toward God as a participation in the divine energies and the uncreated light, a tradition that was present for centuries before it became widely known in fourteenth-century Byzan- tium.4 The entire tradition of hesychasmS is based, in a way, on the revelation of the divinity of Christ on Thabor. The importance of the Transfiguration for hesychasm was such that writers after the time of Gregory Palamas could talk about the “Thaboric Light” without the need to make any further references to the historic Transfiguration of Christ when they wanted to discuss the hesychastic mystical experience. This is certainly not an affair of the past. This catena aurea of mystics of the light continues uninterrupted in our days, Some of the more recent20 METAMORPHOSIS cases include the testimonies of the elders Porfyrios (d. 199) and Paisios (d. 1994) of the Holy Mountain,® who looked to the Transfiguration of Christ and connected it with their own mystical experiences, Beyond the experience of the divine light, saints have reportedly been transfigured and have fulfilled in themselves the Transfiguration of Christ as model for the transfiguration of humanity. A fairly well-known and impressive such case is the transfiguration of Seraphim of Sarov,7 which took place in front of his disciple, Nicholas Motovilov. A thorough exam- ination of the experiences of such saints would be outside the scope of this study, but it is worth including a good part of this dramatic account here, Note that during this transfiguration Seraphim makes continued reference to the narrative of the Transfiguration of Christ, in order to explain the experience to Motovilov. Seraphim begins the conversation: “The grace of the Holy Spirit is the light which lightens man. [. ..] And indeed, the Lord has often demonstrated before many witnesses how the grace of the Holy Spirit operates with regard to those people whom He has sanctified and illumined by His great visitation. Remember Moses after his conversation with God on Mount Sinai. He shone with such an extraordinary light that people could not look at him, and he had to cover his face. Remember the Transfiguration of the Lord on Mount Thabor. A great light surrounded Him and “His garments became shining, exceed- ingly white like snow’ and His apostles fell on their faces from fear. In the same way the grace of the Holy Spirit of God manifests itself in an inef- fable light to all to whom God reveals its activity.” “But how,” I asked Father Seraphim, “can I know that I am in the grace of the Holy Spirit? [. ..] I need to understand completely.” Father Seraphim then took me very firmly by the shoulders and said, “We are both, you and I, in the Spirit of God this moment, my son. Why do you not look at me?” “Teannor look, Father,” I replied, “because great flashes of lightning are springing from your eyes. Your face shines with more light than the sun and my eyes ache from the pain.” “Don't be frightened, friend of God,” Father Seraphim said. “You yourself have now become as bright as I am. You are now yourself in theIntroduction 24 fullness of the Spirit of God: otherwise you would not be able to see me like this. [. ..| Why don’t you look at me, my son? Just look, don't be afraid! The Lord is with us!” At these words, [looked at his face and was seized with an even greater sense of trembling awe. Imagine in the center of the sun, in the most daz- zling brilliance of his noontime rays, the face of a man talking to you. You see the movement of his lips, the changing expression of his eyes, you hear his voice, you feel that someone is holding his hands on your shoulders. Yet you do not see his hands or his body, but only a blinding light spread- ing around for several yards, illuminating with its brilliant sheen both the bank of snow covering the glade and the snow/lakes that fall on me and the great Starets [Seraphim continued:] “Concerning this condition the Lord said: “There are some of them that stand here, who shall not taste of death, tll they see the kingdom of God come with power. Behold, my son, you who love God, what ineffa~ ble joy the Lord God is now granting unto us! This is what is meant being, in the fullness of the Holy Spirit, what is meant by St Makarios of Egypt when he writes: ‘I myself was in the fullness of His Holy Spirit.’ . ..”* This transfiguration, like several similar ancient and modern experi- ences, is modeled, largely, on the Transfiguration of Christ. It is impressive that virtually all the ascetics who had the experience of the uncreated light or were transfigured themselves describe itin very similar ways and connect it, in one way or another, with the Transfiguration of Christ. Nevertheless, the distinction between the experience of the divine light and the transfigu- ration of the self in the accounts of the mystics is not always clear as to whether one experiences the uncreated light as part of one’s own transfign- ration or if the latter is a similar but distinct experience. The biblical text and the accounts of the later experiences allow for both possibilities. How- ight in Christianity, which would ever, a study of the experiences of divine probably start with the experiences of the apostle Paul and the martyr Stephen, is a huge undertaking, a work that needs to be done systematically. One apparent difficulty with these accounts is found in the testimony of Paul. He could not tell if he were “in the body or out of the body, God22 METAMORPHOSIS knows” (2 Cor 12.2). Early ascetics were not sure either. For example, the Evagrian tradition, based on the Platonist-Origenist legacy, held that the mind was the true mystical self, whereas the body was at worst a hin- drance or at best an instrument for the education of the soul. Despite ear- lier theologians who had offered an anti-Docetist® polemic, it is only in later hesychasm that we are assured convincingly that these experiences were in the body, and that the body somehow participated in them. This glow of the transfigured body eventually came to signify the nega- tion of dualism and monism at the same time—Christ’s and ours, The resurrected body has its place in our postmortem future, but as the Trans- figuration of Christ and the transfigurations of the saints show clearly, it is a body of glory in harmony with the spirit. The Church’s insistence on corporeality in the face of the dualistic tendencies of “spiritualism” and the monistic view of the self as something that ends with the physical death of the body stood behind its flat refusal to entertain the possibility of the transmigration of the souls—something clearly seen after the time of Origen and Evagrios—and it stands now behind the refusal of the Orthodox Church to accept the cremation of the dead. Our age has lost, to a great extent, the immediacy of the message of the gospel. There is, perhaps, more fear than hope in the air. The last meta- morphosis we have come to know in modern society is the Kafkaesque transformation from human to monster. This is understandable, because Kafka, in his Metamorphosis (1915), had seen humanity unleash many unparalleled horrors. The transformation of humans to monsters or, closer to Kafka’s idea, the perception and treatment of other humans as if they were monsters, is an anti-transfiguration, a disfiguration, and it reflects the fate of a world that places its trust and its hope in technology, in political and military power, and in well being understood as a luxuti- ous life of ease—in other words, the transformation of the spiritual into the material. The Transfiguration of Christ follows exactly the opposite trajectory, as attested by the writings of the Fathers and the language of the icons, Perhaps the most impressive of the mysteries of the Transfiguration was what Maximos the Confessor described as the “passing from flesh to spirit.” This ideal, understood within Christianity as divorced from andIntroduction 23 opposed to any remnants of Manichean or Platonic dualism, is one of the most fundamental tenets of the Christian ascetic struggle. All these core orthodox principles are reflected not only in the exege- sis of the Transfiguration event in the Gospels but also in the art of the icon. So, it is to the icon, and in particular the depiction of the Transfigu- ration icon, that we now turn. ELEMENTS OF ICONOGRAPHY The Place of the Icon in Prayer Fortunately, there is no dearth of books, articles, and studies on iconog- raphy in general. The reader may find many texts of various levels, includ- such as Hans Belting’s Bild und Kult: Eine Geschichte des Bildes vor dem Zeitalter der Kunst;!° or more philo- ing classic historical approaches sophical approaches, such as Alain Besangon’s L'Image interdite: une his- toire intellectuelle de Viconoclasme!! and Charles Barber's Figure and Likeness: On the Limits of Representation in Byzantine Iconoclasm! or more entry level works, such as Paul Evdokimoy’s L’ Arte de L'Icéne: Théologie de la beauté,!3 Robin Cormack’s Byzantine Art," and Egon Sendler’s L'Icéne: Image de Vinvisible.'’ Moreover, Leonid Ouspensky’s Essai sur la théologie de Vicéne dans I’F-glise orthodoxe'® and Kurt Weitz- mann’s The Icon: Holy Images, 6th to 14th Century!” remain benchmark works for the study of icons, One could even directly consult the “mouth of the lion”: the eighteenth-century Painter's Manual of Dionysios of Fourna,'8 which includes (mostly technical) information passed from gen- eration to generation of icon painters, or even better, Fotios Kontoglou’s Ekfrasis,'? wi pertaining to the history of iconography (including the medieval “wars of icons”) from the viewpoints of defenders of icons such as John of Damascus, Theodore of Studios, and so forth, are now widely available h has largely superseded it. In addition, several key texts in the English language. Remarkably, most of these books were published within the last few decades, giving the Western world a dramatically clearer idea of Eastern iconography. nn24 METAMORPHOSIS Largely because of the communist revolution in Russia, the icon has become known to the contemporary Western world. Waves of Russian refugees moved to the West, mostly to France and the United States, in the first half of the twentieth century, trying to survive intellectual and religious persecution, These people brought their religious art with them, which has since entered all the great museums and art history departments of the Western hemisphere. The icon has rightfully taken its place as a sophisti- cated form of sacred art, next to the art of Giotto, Cimabue, and Raphael, The icon, however, does not only belong to a far away past, and it should not be treated as a fossilized artifact. It remains—it never ceased to be—a living, strong clement of Orthodox Christian worship. Iconog- raphers, whether painters of the magnificent early icons in the sixth cen- tury or icons of the twenty- in exactly the same way, Certainly, no iconographer thinks of treating the st century, are still making and using them icon as a work of art, much less as a museum piece. One of the main reasons that the art museum is an alien place for the icon is thae artistry is secondary to the icon. To approach the icon as art— unless we were to define “art” anew—ignores its very reason for exis- tence. The icon was never considered “art” in the way we understand the word today. The Byzantines’ concepts of “art history” and “art appreci- ation” were quite different from our modern artistic sensitivities. Iconog- raphers, along with artisans and musicians, were at the bottom of the social ladder, and their status was redeemed only by the fact that their art could be used within a liturgical, ecclesiastical context.2 Religious art was appreciated only inasmuch it served a theological, liturgical, or gen- etally religious purpose, something we can see quite clearly in Photios’ Panegyric homily on the mosaic of the Virgin in the apse of Hagia Sophia in Constantinople." It is only in the late Byzantine era that the status of the iconographer begins to change and we learn names of iconographers, such as Eulalios, Manuel Panselinos, and George Kalliergis. This shows that the icon was serving a need that had nothing whatsoever to do with artistic or aesthetic evaluation and enjoyment, and certainly not with artistic independence and creativity. This perspective continues fairly late in the history of the icon. For example, in the midst of the changes instituted by Peter the Great, theIntroduction 25 Russian Church had to decide what to do with a vast number of “ugly” 22 The Russian Councils that dealt with the issue were quite clear: an icon is an icon, and its beauty or artistic value is not important or is, at best, secondary to its purpose within the community of the faithful. Likewise, an historical approach to the icon as an artifact among other artifacts that reveals something about the past may provide interesting information about its cultural context—and also the cultural context and icons, significance of iconography as a whole. Nevertheless, this approach also is problematic, for it presumes that the use of icons is restricted to the past. Icons are made today as they were made a thousand years ago and, except for some technical differences and stylistic changes, their role has not changed to the degree that would render them an object of the past. A thing still in use is not normally considered an artifact; historical muse- ums do not exhibit objects of contemporary use such as pants, shirts, pens, and computers, unless they have evolved to an unrecognizable stage (a museum of pre-World War II cars, for instance). This reluctance to dis- play icons as artifacts is, admittedly, a relatively Eastern-centric view, because the use of icons was never very widespread in the West—although that they are being “rediscovered.” Moreover, their sta~ it is noteworthy tus as a sacred object in the present makes their display as artifacts prob- lematic—as in the shocking case of the Native American who recognized his mummified grandfather in a museum exhibit! Icons, which suggest the presence or the grace of Christ or a saint, cannot be exhibited as just another kind of cultural artifact. What is, then, the proper context of the icon? Traditionally they may be found in churches or in private houses as frescos, mosaics, or portable icons, or as objects of protection and veneration. The Church does at times exhibit icons, even famous icons, but in accordance with their pur- pose. They are exhibited as holy and sometimes powerful (miraculous) items, and they are received as such by believers, Not many people, rela ig, saw the beautiful and ancient Sinai icon of Christ, the ear- tively speal liest icon with the typology of the Pantokrator2 which was exhibited in Athens in 2000. On the other hand, the crowds that visited the icons of Axion Esti from the Holy Mountain and the Virgin of Jerusalem when they came to Athens the following year were so impressive that certain a r——eeses—“‘“‘“‘“‘“#RCS26 METAMORPHOSIS bishops complained of idolatry akin to the period when iconoclasts pled their case! The difference between the two exhibitions was that the Sinai icon was exhibited in the Museum of Byzantine Art as an artifact—despite the quite respectful style of the museum—whereas the other two (both of them much later and much less significant icons from an historical point of view) were on display in churches, on loan from the Holy Mountain and the Patriarchate of Jerusalem respectively, as objects of popular ven- of people who venerated the two eration. It was very clear to the millions latter icons and (unfortunately) ignored the Sin: 1, what an icon is and how it should be displayed. Icons, for these people, were more than cultural or religious artifacts. Icons are a connection with the divine realm. The semiotics of the icon—that is, the theory that examines them as symbols drawing together human and divine realms—the Church resolutions that followed after the official victory over iconoclasm, and the writings of the Fathers view the surface of an icon as a transparent membrane between the material world and the spiritual world. The icon shows a transfigured, spiritually per- fected world, where salvation, the end of time, and the foundation of the Second Jerusalem have already taken place. This is the case even when iconography looks back (for narrative reasons) to difficult or humiliating historical scenes. For example, the sign above the cross in the Byzantine Crucifixion icon does not read INRI (or its Greek counterpart INBI)}—~ “Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews”—indicating the reason for the Lord’s execution as a criminal. Although historically correct, this derogatory sign written by the executors has been changed on the icon to “O Baotheds tiig A6ENs” (“The King of Glory”), which Christ is, seen from the perspective of his victory over death—even at his execution, In order to appreciate this apparently liberal use of iconic space, and in order to connect it with the iconography of the Trans figuration, we must take a step back and remember what an icon is supposed to do. The main functions of the icon are: 1] to narrate Biblical stories in a visual way and thus act as the “Gospel of the illiterate,” as several Fathers have put it; 2] to assist the faithful when they pray, either collectively in a church or pri- vately at home; 3] to suggest or “symbolize” the presence of the depicted person; and 4| to unite the material and spiritual realms. The first pointIntroduction 27 will be explicated throughout this volume, while the second was addressed above. The third and fourth points demand a closer examination. The Power of the Icon as Presence What does it mean exactly, to “symbolize” the presence of a person in an icon? How is the presence of Christ or St Nicholas suggested? First, the semiotic analysis of iconography demonstrates the rule of “inverted per- spective”—i.c., the view offered in an icon does not correspond to the view of an observer who looks toward a framed scene from outside, as is the case with post-medieval painting. As several analyses have shown, the focal point of the icon is not outside of it, at the level of the viewer, but inside of it, in the center of the icon, just below the surface.2* Who is at that center, inside of the icon? Whose point of view is this? Remarkably, the first thing ancient iconographers did as they started an icon—after days of prayer and fasting—was to paint a great eye on the empty canvas and write the word “God” underneath.25 In other terms, the icon “watches over” us with the moral gaze of God or the saints—we never escape theit notice. The icon therefore, is not only something for us to look at but also something that looks at us, through a window front the other world. Moreover, the icon is often used as a protection against cer- tain disasters (there are, for instance, certain types of icons, especially in Romanian and Slavic traditions, that protect one against fire or flood). ‘These basic ideas underlie everything connected with icons and explain to a great degree the cult of icons and the popular piety that is associated with them. An overly “mystical” approach, however, has its perils, whether in iconography or in theology. An individual or, to be more precise, an indi- vidually sought rapport with the numinous, holds the danger of excessive pietism. A genuine mystical experience is not intentionally an affair of one, something of which the theology of the Transfiguration reminds us too well.2® Moreover, active pursuit of the mystical experience under- mines the determination to meet the challenges of the “mundane” world, plays down the usefulness of the material world, and, therefore, separates ee ee eed28 METAMORPHOSIS the material from the spiritual. In addition, it denies the feedback, partic- ipation, and value of the faith community (the “Other” as the Beloved) and thus ignores spiritual advancement, which takes into account (and is based in) love and self-sacrifice, A mystical experience not integrated within the community and within the mundane remains empty and infer- tile, an observation that resonates with the Pauline *. .. if Ihave prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if Ihave all faith, so as to remove mountains, but do not have love, | am nothing” (1 Cor 13.2), In addition, one who pursues the mystical experience for itself rather than for spiritual formation becomes easy prey to psycholog- ical illusions, self-suggestion, and pride—the most dangerous traps of Satan. It is very easy for beginners to fall into illusions of grandeur once they have had a vision. Spiritual elders know this too well, and ascetics from all ages—fourth-century monks of the desert as well as recent saints and spiritual fathers—firmly advocate great caution with visions. A mystical approach in iconographic interpretation can make one sub- jective and lead to an overinterpretation of the image. Popular pietism has occasionally made such mistakes in reading icons. The ribbons with which iconographic angels tie their hair, for instance, were long-thought (and sometimes still are) to be “trumpets,” instruments that represent how angels hear the prayers of people and bring them to God. There is no theology behind this, no iconological evidence, just an overzealous read- ing—but even in the world of Freud, sometimes “a cigar is only a cigar”! In addition, a mystical or pietistic point of view may casily distract us from the prototype of the icon. Just as a symbol?” has real meaning only inasmuch as it connects or elevates us to the prototype, an icon is useful only inasmuch it serves and does not usurp the role of the person it rep- resents. This traditional purpose of icons serves as a reality check, lest that one be drawn to the beauty of the icon and lost in an ocean of imaginary, otherworldly experiences: this is exactly one of the symptoms of ultra. conservative religiosity, We cannot uncritically rush to throw away any part of a symbol, ritual, the liturgy, or tradition that we do not understand (at least not before we strive to recover its lost meaning and record it for a future generation, which then decides what to do with recaptured rem. nants from the past). However, fanatical preservation of symbols whoseee Introduction = meaning is no longer living, in order to emphasize religiosity over and against theology or theological paradox, amounts to religious fetishism. Another approach in theology as well as in the interpretation of icons takes into account the need to touch upon and be inspired by the meta physical, without losing sight of the mundane, fallen world and the needs of the faith community. We call “liturgical” that which brings together the community of the faithful (from ettog/hads = people) in the name and in the community/communion of Christ and facilitates their salvation. The salvific work of Christ is liturgy, not only in the context of the mystical Last Supper, which inaugurated the Christian eucharistic rites, but also in the context of the Crucifixion: “When [am lifted up from the earth, I will draw all people to myself” (Jn 12.32). Christ accepted death on the Cross in order to change the fate of humanity and to unite the human and the divine in his person. However, the work he left behind was delegated to the community and to his Bride, the Church. The work of the Church is “to do” the liturgy, to bring people together in the name of Christ (the Greek word for “church,” &xkineia, denotes a community and togetherness of people), and it does so not only in theology, good works, and faith but also in sacramental life, liturgical practice, and worship. The Eucharist, the presence of Christ in his body, s a source of all the other sacraments and a basis for the life of constituti the Christian. For this reason, “liturgy” in everyday use means “Eucharis- tic service” in the East. Within this context, liturgical art and aesthetics differ from secular aes- thetics. Liturgical art brings “a simple, peaceful and life-giving message, coming down from above. It speaks of something which has gone beyond the categories of yesterday and today, here and there, mine and thine.”28 In liturgical art, aesthetic enjoyment is replaced by the metaphysical enjoy- ment of reconnection with our heavenly origins and our heavenly destiny, which constitutes the goal and the life of the Church, To put it bluntly, the Church performs a very practical, real task, relative to which modern artis- tic frills are unnecessary, irrelevant, and even dangerous. The task of the Church is to save the faithful, ro bring them together, and to join them with the body of Christ. Icons are a means to this end, and their aesthetic quality has nothing to do with artistic appreciation or30 METAMORPHOSIS enjoyment. The abstract, aesthetic, symbolic, and even instinctively artis- tic qualities of an icon approximate what is outside time and space, and a tool of the Church that beyond the five senses, Iconography essentially i draws richly not only from the written Gospel but also from the holy tradition (as we can see in many icons that ate based on or express apoc- ryphal scenes, most prominent among them the Resurrection, “Anasta- sis”). Icons contribute to this tradition, being part of its life and not just a result of it. Whether located in churches or private homes, icons are inseparable from liturgical life, from theology (icons are always taken seri- ously as subject matter for sermons or other theological writings), from hymnography (many icons draw their themes or their symbolism from hymnography), and, finally, from the ritual tradition, What about other images of Christ or the saints that may not exactly be regarded as icons? A manuscript illumination does not exactly fall into the same category because it is an integral part of a book, either as a nar- rative or as a decorative enhancement. This book may be itself an object of veneration within Christian tradition—a Gospel—but even so, the iconic presence of the depicted saint is functionally slightly different than that of the belong to iconography. They share the same visual types and the same ‘on proper. Nevertheless, technically speaking, illumination concepts as to how persons and events are to be represented, There are even cases where, at least according to the information we have, main- stream iconography has followed visual developments that were initially found in illuminations. For all these reasons, the study of the development of iconography has to treat, for the most part, frescos, mosaics, portable icons, and illuminations alike—and, in some cases, images on coins. Icons have always had this position of honor in the Eastern Church. Their cult initially had been similar to the cult of relics, but in some ways, they then surpassed it. Certain icons are treated almost as persons: they have their own feast days or are thought to have a will of their own (not unlike certain relics, such as the much-traveled body of St Mark). Their status was disputed in the eighth century by the iconoclast emperors, but the controversy that ensued eventually led to one of the best articulations of Christian semiotics ever, Heated discussions about what an icon is, what it represents, how itis related to worship and so on, were not anyIntroduction 31 less scientific than postmodern discussions on signs, symbols, signifieds, the limits of representation, and similar issues. The intellectual content of iconoclasm was, more or less, about the definition of the limits of religious representation and about the symbolism of the icon. The writings of John of Damascus, Theodore of Studios, and Nikephoros of Constantinople were quite sophisticated treatises on the semiotics of visual representa- tion, similar in intent and scope to contemporary analyses in the tradition of Roland Barthes, Jean Baudrillard, and Michel Foucault—of course one key difference is that sacred art and representation for the Byzantine defenders of icons was an affair worth dying for, and the message was not an advancement of the history and theory of representation but an issue of spiritual and metaphysical gravity. Interestingly, views of medieval and postmodern writers converge on a very important semiotic phenomenon: the collapse of the limits of rep- resentation with the limits of reality. It is, perhaps, easier for the post- modern reader of signs and symbols to approach the perceptual framework of medieval writers than for the Renaissance and modern man. In addition, for both medieval and postmodern writers, the spiritual or intellectual structural center of the art they examine is beyond the art itself —for postmodernists it may be social power, culture, psychology, or phenomenology, whereas for the Byzantine monks it was theology, more specifically, christology. The discourse of the icon becomes even more significant when viewed with the historical development of the theology of the image in mind (starting with Christ as the consubstantial image of the Father). The defenders of the icons were quite aware of this. John of Damascus, in his Third Treatise against Those Who Attack the Divine Icons, defines six cluding these categories of icons—categories of different orders— three: rT] the consubstantial or natural,” as he calls it, image of the Father in Christ; 2] the image of God in man; and 3] the image of God in all creation.2 This gave him the freedom to discuss the veneration of icons as opposed to the worship to God,?° showing at the same time that the icon is more than a simple representation. Moreover, John organized several kinds of icons into a hierarchy in a way that reminds us of the pseudo-Dionysian hierarchy—with certain kinds of icons closer to God a reeeeses—“‘“‘“‘*FECUY32 METAMORPHOSIS and others farther away. Even the lowliest category of icon, however, bears something of the likeness of God and refers to him.3! Common to Christians and (pagan) Neoplatonists, the image and the prototype are not connected arbitrarily, but share something essential. Eixév was used by Neoplatonists in order to describe the relationship between what is higher and what is lower in the hierarchy of the universe: from the completely transcendental “One” to the lofty “Intelligence” to the lowly “Soul” in the philosophy of Plotinos, or the more developed multi-leveled universe of Proklos, in which every step below is an image of that which is above it. Although the word “icon” was used among Christians to denote religious painting, it evoked memories from a philo- sophical and theological past where “icon” suggested more than superfi- cial likeness. This iconographic legacy continued throughout its history, which always retained something of the initial memory of the ancient or proto-Christian “enav.” We note this as late as the fourteenth century when Theophanes of Nicea discussed the symbol and the icon in his Homilies on the Uncreated Light; Theophanes distinguished here between the icon, which is a special kind of symbol, and the notion of symbol in general. The icon, he said, may be superior to the symbol, because although both of them may share in the essence of what they represent, in addition to this, the icon has a physical resemblance with the prototype, which is not the case with the symbol—something which occurs in Christ being a consubstantial icon of the Father and in the Eucharist as a non-iconic, consubstantial symbol of Christ, respectively. Strange as it may seem, Christ bears, according to Scripture and the Fathers, an iconic resemblance to the Father: Hebrews 1.3 calls him “the brightness of the Father’s glory and the express image of his person.” The Fathers, from Origen to John of Damascus, following this, refer to Christ as the visible image of the Father. This may sound compromising in the light of the pseudo-Dionysian preference for dissimilar symbols. There is a danger, warns pseudo-Diony- sios, in using symbols that bear a similarity to what they represent in order to describe the supernatural realm: we may start thinking that the tran- scendental reality we want to describe actually looks like the conventional symbol we use. | IIntroduction 33 So, true negations and the unlike comparisons with their last echoes offer due homage to the divine things. For this reason, there is nothing ridicu- lous about representing heavenly beings with similarities that are dissim- ilar and incongruows.>2 The theology of the icon is naturally shaped by the pseudo-Dionysian view, bur it isa little more complicated. The preference of Theophanes for the icon over the symbol presupposes that they both share their essence with the prototype, at least to a certain degree- not examined by pseudo-Dionysios, Nevertheless, iconic or, rather, iconographic recogni- a ca tion and similarity have been achieved with the pseudo-Dionysian warn- ing in mind. The icon is similarity and dissimilarity at the same time. Very much according to the need for likeness, the depicted figure is recogniza- ble since it shares its personhood with the depicted saint. Since, however, it represents celestial realities, it does not try to imitate forms of people, buildings, and natural elements as we find them on the earth, but com- pletely transfigures them, St Andrew or St Michael may be recognizable in an icon, but the lack of shadows, the elongated bodies, the big ears, the small and always closed mouth, and so many characteristics that are in direct violation of the laws of naturalist representation, make it difficult for us to confu the earthly and the celestial or mistake the represented figures for “ordinary” humans. Tcons suggest the real presence of the grace of the depicted person. Defenders of icons viewed the icon, in various degrees, as windows between heaven and earth, similar to intercessory saints, Saints are blessed with access to the numinous—one of the simplest and most inclusive def- initions of a saint is the person who is on familiar or friendly terms with God—and their presence on earth continues through their relics. The cult of icons naturally developed simultancously with the cult of relics. While the cult of relics developed both in the East and the West, however, the cult of icons flourished only in the East. The connection between saints and icons was demonstrated, for instance, when John of Damascus stressed the importance of the veneration of saints as part of his defense of icot Se (34 METAMORPHOSIS The Union of Earthly and Heavenly Realities Ultimately, their ability to unite the realms of heaven and earth remained the key to the theological mystery of icons and allowed them to weather the severest theological, psychological, and emotional storms. Indeed, their very existence was challenged, on all levels. For example, a thorough examination of ascetic literature before iconoclasm confirms a suspicion of all material possessions, however paltry, and a consistent resistance to In ad Evagrian ascent, which never lost its preeminence as a spiritual secular influence among early monasti ion, the advanced stage of the guideline despite Evagrios’ condemnation by the Fifth Ecumenical Coun- cil, speaks of contemplation that goes beyond images. In the Platonist manner that underlies the theology of Evagrios, the mind/soul is closer to God when it leaves all material things behind, Similar views could be extracted from the writings of pscudo-Dionysios (although the defenders Of the icons also found arguments in favor of their position in his work), Moreover, the use of icons had become gradually accepted without any strong support or opposition from anyone until the eighth century, and, therefore, influential theological arguments for or against them did not exist up to that point. When the great controversy over icons arose, there- fore, it would have been natural to expect monks to have been support- ive of the policy of the iconoclastic emperors, but such was not the case. It was rather surprising to sce that almost immediately, from the onset of iconoclasm, monks en masse defended the use of icons and became mar- tyrs for them. Why did the monks defend them so passionately? Icis hard to find a single rational explanation for th . The arguments of both sides were, from what we can surmise, equally sophisticated and surrounded by emotion, Soldiers who saw the eastern provinces of the mighty Roman Empire fall to the hands of heathens wondered if God was allowing the iconoclastic or, rather, “un- conic,” Muslims to prevail because of their stance against imagery. The immediate psychological reaction of the other side, the fervent protection of the icons, is not as eas. ily understandable. Despite the myriad arguments pro and con, however, there is a com mon doctrinal thread throughout the entire history of Christianity thatIntroduction 35 offers some explanation to the ultimate triumph of iconography in the Eastern Church—a common reaction of the Church against heretical groups such as Gnostics, Dualists, Arians, Macedonians, Nestorians, Monophysites, Monothelites, Iconoclasts, and Barlaamites. The ortho- dox, in the East and the West alike, always professed a strong connection between heaven and earth, and in the potential of the human being to transcend the distance between them and to achieve deification through a synergy, a cooperation, with the grace of God. This is obvious in christology and pneumatology. Jesus Christ is the ultimate connection between heaven and carth, fully divine and fully human in nature, energy (operation), and will—and this is exactly what we sce at every stage of the christological disputes. The Holy Spirit, more- over, had to be fully divine as well to effect salvation; according to Athanasios, it was not possible for the Holy Spirit to grant deification to others if it were not divine itself. The economy of salvation required that the connection between heaven and earth, or between God and man, be an uninterrupted ladder: on the one hand, the Godhead completely descended and left a part of it with us (the Holy Spirit and the Eucharis- tic Body and Blood of Christ); and on the other hand humanity succeeded in reaching God, in the person of Christ who deified human flesh and also in the ascetic ascent of the saints who followed in his footsteps. This view has been, implicitly, one of the most important measures of orthodoxy for the entire history of Christianity. Za Icons naturally imitated this cosmological ladder, this touchstone of orthodoxy. It is not accidental that the Gospel reading from the Sunday of Orthodoxy, the Feast of the Icons, starts with Christ’s personal call ing and recognition of his apostles and ends with his magnificent promise that they will “see the heaven opened, and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of man” (Jn 1.50). Though the defenders of icons never claimed that icons were anything more than vessels of the grace of God through their association with Christ or the saint they depicted, they were nevertheless instrumental in maintaining the connec- tion between heaven and earth as it was psychologically experienced by the faithful. They also kept active the connections among everything por- trayed in an icon—Christ and the community of saints, Therefore, the ee ee oe36 METAMORPHOSIS removal of icons would have been tantamount to increasing the distance between heaven and earth. Among the aforementioned four basic functions of icons, the fourth (to unite the material and spiritual realms) is probably the most signifi- cant. Based on the communion of the entire earthly congregation with the triumphant Church, it expresses the complete liturgy, the one that takes place on earth and in heaven at the same time. In a typical Orthodox church building, the icons of the iconostasis connect (rather than sepa- rate) the sanctuary and the nave, as a window that connects earth and heaven, the spiritual and the material. In the East at least, it was simply not possible for popular piety as well as for academic theology to do away with this window, this ladder, which expressed the essence of the purpose of the Incarnation.CHAPTER 1 The Theology of the Transfiguration very good collection (yet by no means exhaustive) of the patris- tic writings on the Transfiguration, and a thorough analysis of the major exegetical strands, can be found in John McGuckin’s The Trans- figuration of Christ in Scripture and Tradition." In his invaluable study of the Transfiguration, he identifies a few key themes that appear in the writ- ings of the Fathers, which he classifies under three major categories: 1] the Transfiguration as an epiphany (which includes issues such as the revela- tion of God and at the same time of his incognoscibility); 2] the Transfig- uration as a soteriological event (which includes the Transfiguration as a prelude ro the Passion and the harmonization of the two Testaments); and 3] the Transfiguration as a foreshadow of the Second Coming and of the Resurrection of Christ. Our study will not only benefit from MeGuckin’s thematic classification bur also from an examination of the Fathers, whose developed thoughts roughly fall into several major phases. It is not accurate, however, to say that what may be identified as the main interest in certain aspects of Transfiguration theology at one time completely replaces all previous themes. On the contrary, the “classic” exegetical themes, such as the relationship between the Transfiguration and the Res- urrection, or the Transfiguration and the Second Coming, or the ascetic ascent on Thabor, are always present with few changes throughout the patristic era. However, certain themes get more attention according to the wider theological issues of the time and their possible connection with the ‘Transfiguration, directly or indirectly. Before examining the main body of the Christian theological tradition on the Transfiguration, let us briefly study theological and philosophical predecessors and relatives, starting with a discussion of the biblical accounts. eed Se (