Were the Earliest Christians Iconoclasts?

Theological Letters

“Pagoda,” a Presbyterian minister, wrote to me after hearing me on a popular radio show and reading my article on John of Damascus. Though belonging to an iconoclast tradition, “Pagoda” had rediscovered his love of Byzantine art. Despite having profound spiritual experiences beholding such images, “Pagoda” could not shake his training that such images are impermissible. He asked me specifically about objections he had read, suggesting that Irenaeus, Epiphanius, and the Synod of Elvira all opposed icons — the implication being that the iconodule position is a late development, divergent from the earliest Christian practices. Below is my reply. If you’re reading this letter, then you must be a paying subscriber. Thank you for your support! (If somehow you’ve accessed this and you’re not a paying subscriber, please consider subscribing and supporting my work.)

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Dear “Pagoda,”

Thanks for your email. I'm glad you enjoyed the interview and the article. Allow me to take your questions in reverse order, starting with the supposed evidence of early iconoclasm in the Christian Church.  

I admit that I'm not accustomed to Irenaeus or Ephiphanius being raised as patristic support for iconoclasm. The more common go-to's, in my experience, are Clements of Alexandria, Tertullian, and Origen. I'll throw these on the list as well, just in case you come across them in your investigation of this topic. 

I'll begin with my standard three. Clement, Tertullian, and Origen are inherently problematic points of appeal because none are considered to be fathers of the Church. Their teachings are understood to include heretical ideas, divergent from the faith once given over to the Saints. Tertullian, in particular, outright apostatized, embracing the heretical sect known as Montanism. Origen, though not a heretic in the formal sense, nonetheless did propagate ideas that were later condemned as heretical at Constantinople II, once those ideas spread via later "Origenists" (e.g., Philoxenus of Mabbug and Stephen bar Sudaili, being two 5th century examples). Many of Origen's problematic ideas reflect his seemingly negative view of the flesh and of matter generally. Though not fully Gnostic or Manicheistic, these views indicate at the very least Platonic sympathies that problematize matter in a way that is out of step with the Christian tradition. (Origen was trained in philosophy by Ammonius Saccas, the famous Platonist who also trained the NeoPlatonist Plotinus.) This problematized view of matter comes through in, not only Origen's iconoclast tendencies, but also in later Origenist iconoclasts, such as Evagrius Pontus, who believed spiritual ascent requires leaving behind all images — including mental images — as we pursue The One, who is "beyond being" and thus beyond all limitations of the kinds that images represent. While aspects of this view resonate in the Eastern fathers, specifically their talk of ascent into the dark cloud of unknowing, such a sentiment unqualified (i.e., tempered by the other aspects of Christian mysticism) has greater resemblance to Middle and NeoPlatonism, which is out of step with more traditional Christian position that the things God makes are to be "clear and spotless  mirrors, reflecting the glow of primordial light and indeed of God himself" (Pseudo-Dionysius, De coelesti hierarchia, 2 (PG 3.121b); see also Gregory of Nyssa, De beatitudinibus (PG 44.1272c)).

As for Clement of Alexandria, while we might expect that Clement, also a student of Platonism, might echo Origen's iconoclast sentiments, the appeal to him is unwarranted. The passage to which iconoclasts appeal concerns pagan idolatry, evident in the fact that Clement goes on to explain which images should be used on seals, for example (Paedagogus, 1.3 (PG 8.633)).

Now, concerning Irenaeus and Eiphanius, the citation you provide for the latter (i.e., ANF vol. 1, p. 351) is not in fact of Epiphanius, so I can't check it; the location is for Irenaeus, which is good, since the citation of Irenaeus you provide is incorrect. The passage in question is from chapter 25, section 6, book 1, not chapter 26. The passage does not offer as much as an iconoclast might hope. Irenaeus simply describes certain facts about the group in question, as he often does in this treatise. In this case, he is discussing the Carpocrates, who "style themselves Gnostics." When describing their doctrines, he does mention that they have images, some paintings and others not (presumably statues); they claim that Pilot commissioned a statue of Christ; and they set their images up amongst images of other philosophers (i.e., Pythagoras, Plato, Aristotle, et al.). There is no obvious value judgment in the description. The one apparent condemnation, which can be seen as such because it styles their customs as those of the "Gentiles" — presumably branding these practices as pagan, as opposed to Jewish or Christian — is that they "crown" these statues and have "other modes of honoring" them "after the same manner of the Gentiles." This is all Irenaeus has to say on the matter. Nothing in the passage indicates that images per se are impermissible. The tacit critique appears to be of a form of syncretism — characteristic of the Gnostics and other mystery cults — where the images and statues are not only made, but incorporated into the annals of pagan figures and, in this case, honored in odd ways, such as crowning them and whatever other "modes of honoring" the Gentiles might do with idols. To take from this a blanket prohibition on images or to conflate such odd practices with Christian icondule veneration is a stretch, to say the least. 

Now, regarding the Synod of Elvira, allow me to first offer an aside concerning synods. The Church did not presume that every synod was somehow infallible. Quite the contrary, local synods were subject to scrutiny and could, and often were, overturned by greater authorities. The ecumenical councils both ratify and reject local synods. Therefore, simply because a practice or a belief was advocated in a certain city at a certain time, this hardly constitutes proof that the Church as a whole embraced this perspective. 

Nonetheless, let's consider canon 36 of the Synod of Elvira and whether it in fact advocates iconoclasm. The iconoclast reading of the canon is problematic. The reason is the specificity of the canon. The canon does not prohibit images in a blanket sense; it prohibits monumental paintings on structural walls. The specificity is noteworthy, given the widespread use of images on sarcophagi, for example. Moreover, the specificity of the prohibition leaves open the door to paintings on non-structural walls — a strange oversight, if the concern is images per se. In this light, the canon is arguably a proof of early iconodulism, not iconoclasm. That is to say, in anticipation of the Diocletian persecution, to which this canon is a precursor, the worry is about the immobility of sacred images, which makes them susceptible to desecration, since they cannot be moved or hidden (see Hefele, History des Conciles [Paris, 1970], vol. I, part I, p. 240). 

Before closing out our look at evidence of early Christian iconoclasm, allow me to add one more voice, that of Eusebius of Caesarea. Like Tertullian, Origen, and Clement, Eusebius needs to be taken with a grain of salt. He was, afterall, an Arian sympathizer. Eusebius, like Tertullian and Origen, opposed images. However, his testimony on the point is particularly important because, in his lament, he admits that the iconodule practices are widespread and go back to the first century. He speaks about the many icons of Christ, Peter, and Paul that have been "preserved up to the present time." Moreover, before leveling this complaint, he goes to great lengths describing a statue of Christ in the city of Paneas (Caesarea Philippi) that was erected by the woman with an issue of blood who was healed by Christ (Matt 9:20-3, et al.) (History of the Church, 7.18 (PG 20:680)). Therefore, while Eusebius disapproves of the practice, he admits the point, critical to the iconodules, that they are part of "tradition" (paradosis) — or that which has been handed down from ancient times to the present.  (Note that this is far from the only image that, according to tradition, is traceable to the first century. Others include Saint Luke's icon of Mary and the infant Christ, which was sent to Theophilus with Luke's writings, as well as the icon made without hands by Christ, which was sent by Christ himself to Abgar, ruler of Edessa in Syria, to heal him of leprosy.)