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Popular Patristics Series #24
On Holy Images
St John of Damascus wrote these three treaties Against Those Who Attack the Divine Images in response to the iconoclastic heresy of the eighth century, which violently rejected the veneration of images. He accomplishes the important task of reminding the Church that the use of images is a necessary safeguard of the central doctrine of the Christian faith: the Incarnation. In Jesus Christ, God became Man. He Who is immaterial became material and can therefore be depicted.
St John's message remains pertinent today, for there are still those who regard images with suspicion or else take refuge in various pseudo-spiritualities that deny any value or significance to the material. This new translation into modern English makes these important treatises available for the first time to scholar and layman alike.
On the Divine Images is part of the POPULAR PATRISTIC SERIES.
94 pages, Paperback
First published March 1, 1980
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About the author
John of Damascus
107 books67 followersSaint John of Damascus (Arabic: يوحنا الدمشقي Yuḥannā Al Demashqi; Greek: Ιωάννης Δαμασκήνος; Latin: Iohannes Damascenus; also known as John Damascene, Χρυσορρόας, "streaming with gold"—i.e., "the golden speaker") was a Syrian Christian monk and priest. Born and raised in Damascus, he died at his monastery, Mar Saba, near Jerusalem.
A polymath whose fields of interest and contribution included law, theology, philosophy, and music, before being ordained, he served as a Chief Administrator to the Muslim caliph of Damascus, wrote works expounding the Christian faith, and composed hymns which are still in everyday use in Eastern Christian monasteries throughout the world. The Catholic Church regards him as a Doctor of the Church, often referred to as the Doctor of the Assumption due to his writings on the Assumption of Mary.
The most commonly used source for information on the life of John of Damascus is a work attributed to one John of Jerusalem, identified therein as the Patriarch of Jerusalem.[3] It is actually an excerpted translation into Greek of an earlier Arabic text. The Arabic original contains a prologue not found in most other translations that was written by an Arabic monk named Michael who relates his decision to write a biography of John of Damascus in 1084, noting that none was available in either Greek or Arabic at the time. The main text that follows in the original Arabic version seems to have been written by another, even earlier author, sometime between the early 9th and late 10th centuries AD. Written from a hagiographical point of view and prone to exaggeration, it is not the best historical source for his life, but is widely reproduced and considered to be of some value nonetheless. The hagiographic novel Barlaam and Josaphat, traditionally attributed to John, is in fact a work of the 10th century.
John was born into a prominent Arab Christian family known as Mansour (Arabic: Mansǔr, "victorious one") in Damascus in the 7th century AD. He was named Mansur ibn Sarjun Al-Taghlibi (Arabic: منصور بن سرجون التغلبي) after his grandfather Mansur, who had been responsible for the taxes of the region under the Emperor Heraclius. When the region came under Arab Muslim rule in the late 7th century AD, the court at Damascus remained full of Christian civil servants, John's grandfather among them. John's father, Sarjun (Sergius) or Ibn Mansur, went on to serve the Umayyad caliphs, supervising taxes for the entire Middle East. After his father's death, John also served as a high official to the caliphate court before leaving to become a monk and adopting the monastic name John at Mar Saba, where he was ordained as a priest in 735. Until the age of 12, John apparently undertook a traditional Muslim education. One of the vitae describes his father's desire for him to, "learn not only the books of the Muslims, but those of the Greeks as well." John grew up bilingual and bicultural, living as he did at a time of transition from Late Antiquity to Early Islam.
Other sources describes his education in Damascus as having been conducted in a traditional Hellenic way, termed "secular" by one source and "Classical Christian" by another. One account identifies his tutor as a monk by the name of Cosmas, who had been captured by Arabs from his home in Sicily, and for whom John's father paid a great price. Under the instruction of Cosmas, who also taught John's orphan friend (the future St. Cosmas of Maiuma), John is said to have made great advances in music, astronomy and theology, soon rivaling Pythagoras in arithmetic and Euclid in geometry.
In the early 8th century AD, iconoclasm, a movement seeking to prohibit the veneration of the icons, gained some acceptance in the Byzantine court. In 726, despite the protests of St. Germanus, Patriarch of Constantinople, Emperor Leo III issued his first
A polymath whose fields of interest and contribution included law, theology, philosophy, and music, before being ordained, he served as a Chief Administrator to the Muslim caliph of Damascus, wrote works expounding the Christian faith, and composed hymns which are still in everyday use in Eastern Christian monasteries throughout the world. The Catholic Church regards him as a Doctor of the Church, often referred to as the Doctor of the Assumption due to his writings on the Assumption of Mary.
The most commonly used source for information on the life of John of Damascus is a work attributed to one John of Jerusalem, identified therein as the Patriarch of Jerusalem.[3] It is actually an excerpted translation into Greek of an earlier Arabic text. The Arabic original contains a prologue not found in most other translations that was written by an Arabic monk named Michael who relates his decision to write a biography of John of Damascus in 1084, noting that none was available in either Greek or Arabic at the time. The main text that follows in the original Arabic version seems to have been written by another, even earlier author, sometime between the early 9th and late 10th centuries AD. Written from a hagiographical point of view and prone to exaggeration, it is not the best historical source for his life, but is widely reproduced and considered to be of some value nonetheless. The hagiographic novel Barlaam and Josaphat, traditionally attributed to John, is in fact a work of the 10th century.
John was born into a prominent Arab Christian family known as Mansour (Arabic: Mansǔr, "victorious one") in Damascus in the 7th century AD. He was named Mansur ibn Sarjun Al-Taghlibi (Arabic: منصور بن سرجون التغلبي) after his grandfather Mansur, who had been responsible for the taxes of the region under the Emperor Heraclius. When the region came under Arab Muslim rule in the late 7th century AD, the court at Damascus remained full of Christian civil servants, John's grandfather among them. John's father, Sarjun (Sergius) or Ibn Mansur, went on to serve the Umayyad caliphs, supervising taxes for the entire Middle East. After his father's death, John also served as a high official to the caliphate court before leaving to become a monk and adopting the monastic name John at Mar Saba, where he was ordained as a priest in 735. Until the age of 12, John apparently undertook a traditional Muslim education. One of the vitae describes his father's desire for him to, "learn not only the books of the Muslims, but those of the Greeks as well." John grew up bilingual and bicultural, living as he did at a time of transition from Late Antiquity to Early Islam.
Other sources describes his education in Damascus as having been conducted in a traditional Hellenic way, termed "secular" by one source and "Classical Christian" by another. One account identifies his tutor as a monk by the name of Cosmas, who had been captured by Arabs from his home in Sicily, and for whom John's father paid a great price. Under the instruction of Cosmas, who also taught John's orphan friend (the future St. Cosmas of Maiuma), John is said to have made great advances in music, astronomy and theology, soon rivaling Pythagoras in arithmetic and Euclid in geometry.
In the early 8th century AD, iconoclasm, a movement seeking to prohibit the veneration of the icons, gained some acceptance in the Byzantine court. In 726, despite the protests of St. Germanus, Patriarch of Constantinople, Emperor Leo III issued his first
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April 9, 2021
Written Images of the Holy and Venerable
John of Damascus is one of the more fascinating and influential forces in Eastern Christianity. His background and life circumstances set him apart from most other well-known theologians, being a Syrian polymath who served for a time in the Umayyad Caliphate before becoming a monk.
This is his most oft-cited work, a spirited apology in favor of traditional iconography that has come to be predominately identified with the Orthodox churches. His arguments directly address the leading criticisms; he tackles the charge of idolatry, the Hebrew prohibition of graven images, and conflicting opinions such as Epiphanias and (to a minor extent) Athanasius. His main argument centers on the Incarnation of Christ and its catalytic effect on knowing God through matter, as well as on the nature of the saints' relation to God in death and the proper veneration of holiness. These views were largely adopted in abbreviated form for the dogmatic definition of II Nicaea in 787, considered to be the seventh great Ecumenical Council binding on Orthodox and Catholic churches.
This is well worth a read and is surprisingly brief, easily read in one or two sittings. It ends with appendices of quotations from earlier Christian authorities intended to bolster his arguments through denial of any innovation. Highly recommended for anyone who wonders why there are so many pictures lining the walls of the ancient institutional churches.
John of Damascus is one of the more fascinating and influential forces in Eastern Christianity. His background and life circumstances set him apart from most other well-known theologians, being a Syrian polymath who served for a time in the Umayyad Caliphate before becoming a monk.
This is his most oft-cited work, a spirited apology in favor of traditional iconography that has come to be predominately identified with the Orthodox churches. His arguments directly address the leading criticisms; he tackles the charge of idolatry, the Hebrew prohibition of graven images, and conflicting opinions such as Epiphanias and (to a minor extent) Athanasius. His main argument centers on the Incarnation of Christ and its catalytic effect on knowing God through matter, as well as on the nature of the saints' relation to God in death and the proper veneration of holiness. These views were largely adopted in abbreviated form for the dogmatic definition of II Nicaea in 787, considered to be the seventh great Ecumenical Council binding on Orthodox and Catholic churches.
This is well worth a read and is surprisingly brief, easily read in one or two sittings. It ends with appendices of quotations from earlier Christian authorities intended to bolster his arguments through denial of any innovation. Highly recommended for anyone who wonders why there are so many pictures lining the walls of the ancient institutional churches.
January 18, 2022
Startlingly robust defense of icons. Here’s how it works:
- the incarnation glorifies matter, such that matter can now participate in the divine (which makes sense of the sacramentality of the EOC)
- God chose to image himself in this incarnation. Therefore, there are instances when imaging the divine, or those participating in the divine that are appropriate
- The prohibition on images in the OT does not extend to every image, because the tabernacle and temple are themselves images, as are the figure within, including the cherubim, which God commanded to be made
- It is difficult for us to conceptualize without images, frustrating even. Words themselves are images and evoke imagery, and yet we have the Scriptures
- He holds to a distinction of “worship,” noting that the honor the saints receive, via the honor given to icons, has to do with the glory in which they participate. Honoring them is to honor God, not because they are God, but because they participate more deeply in his nature and glory
- The icon is not worshiped, because it is not a nature, but it stands in for the one honored
- He cites numerous early fathers who also endorse iconography
- the incarnation glorifies matter, such that matter can now participate in the divine (which makes sense of the sacramentality of the EOC)
- God chose to image himself in this incarnation. Therefore, there are instances when imaging the divine, or those participating in the divine that are appropriate
- The prohibition on images in the OT does not extend to every image, because the tabernacle and temple are themselves images, as are the figure within, including the cherubim, which God commanded to be made
- It is difficult for us to conceptualize without images, frustrating even. Words themselves are images and evoke imagery, and yet we have the Scriptures
- He holds to a distinction of “worship,” noting that the honor the saints receive, via the honor given to icons, has to do with the glory in which they participate. Honoring them is to honor God, not because they are God, but because they participate more deeply in his nature and glory
- The icon is not worshiped, because it is not a nature, but it stands in for the one honored
- He cites numerous early fathers who also endorse iconography
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
January 4, 2025
John rejects iconoclasm and demonstrates how veneration of saints and icons, so far in that they point us to God, is acceptable and even admirable.
But it’s nice to be reminded that throwing around claims of heresy, blasphemy, and associating with the devil towards one’s “opponents” isn’t exactly a new phenomenon in Christianity.
But it’s nice to be reminded that throwing around claims of heresy, blasphemy, and associating with the devil towards one’s “opponents” isn’t exactly a new phenomenon in Christianity.
May 28, 2025
Well written, and brings up excellent examples in his defense for icons. I will definitely recommend this to anyone who is unsure about our interaction with icons, relics, and Saints.
September 17, 2021
Well, it made me proud of the Reformed tradition and its rejection of images in worship. Upon Gavin Ortlund's recommendation as a foundational resource in the controversy, I decided to dive in and analyze the iconophile argument. Let's just say that Protestant theology is more well-founded than Protestants know it to be.
March 1, 2024
I listened to an audiobook version of this book.
This work listed some of the more obvious points of why Christians ought to venerate images as part of the Apostolic faith, both by demonstrating the practice from Tradition and from a thorough exegesis of the Old Testament practice of venerating images.
What was more interesting and novel to me about this work was St. John's lengthy commentary on the following:
- on the separation of the Church from the influences of the temporal government (which clearly counters many modern Orthodox claims concerning an Emporers role in a Council)
- on how iconoclasts continue the Judaizing and Manichaean heresies, which is an interesting view of Protestantism.
- on the use of matter in our salvation (which isn't necessarily new, but was explored in amazing depth; this also covered the adoration of Christ's wounds, which is decried by some EO in regards to the Sacred Heart devotion)
If I could rate this work higher, I would. It covers so much of the faith in so relatively few pages. I will be reading it again, and I recommend it as one of the few books that every Catholic should be required to read.
This work listed some of the more obvious points of why Christians ought to venerate images as part of the Apostolic faith, both by demonstrating the practice from Tradition and from a thorough exegesis of the Old Testament practice of venerating images.
What was more interesting and novel to me about this work was St. John's lengthy commentary on the following:
- on the separation of the Church from the influences of the temporal government (which clearly counters many modern Orthodox claims concerning an Emporers role in a Council)
- on how iconoclasts continue the Judaizing and Manichaean heresies, which is an interesting view of Protestantism.
- on the use of matter in our salvation (which isn't necessarily new, but was explored in amazing depth; this also covered the adoration of Christ's wounds, which is decried by some EO in regards to the Sacred Heart devotion)
If I could rate this work higher, I would. It covers so much of the faith in so relatively few pages. I will be reading it again, and I recommend it as one of the few books that every Catholic should be required to read.
December 13, 2025
The title is misleading: this isn't three treatises, it's three drafts of the same treatise on icons. The first is by far the best, and the others contain precious little else of note. But anywho, here we go:
It's easy to attack images in a time of over-consumption, media-glut, analysis paralysis, whatever you wanna call it. It's revolutionary to stand up against iconoclasm, especially when the whole world wants, in disgust, to get rid of images. It's easy to react out of anger and fear, it's easy to read only the literal words and go no further. This is the first of many hurdles that John successfully overcomes: the second commandment says to not make graven images, yet he reminds us that the Hebrews did make images, such as the bronze serpent, the ark of the covenant, and other artwork, often explicitly for veneration. So, from that simple observation, icons should be allowed. Immediately, we get a call to patient interpretation rather than hasty deconstruction: "Brothers, those who do not know the Scriptures truly err, for as they do not know that 'the letter kills, but the Spirit gives life;' they do not interpret the spirit hidden beneath the letter."
To understand the debate more thoroughly, John explains the different forms of veneration and also defines what images are. The veneration part is currently less interesting to me, but the one thing I'll say about it is that back then they had more explicit forms of veneration, such as bowing before magistrates or rulers. Nowadays, in our false sense of democracy and egalitarianism, we balk at the idea of ever bowing to anyone, let alone God. But, like I observed in my review of Tertullian's De Spectaculis, we worship gods whenever we consume media, and the same can be said for John's case: worship, veneration, there's a lot of overlap here, and a very similar point gets made.
As for John's definition of images (the intro helpfully points out that "icon" is simply the Greek word for image) is borrowed from Basil the Great: An image is a likeness depicting an archetype, but having some difference from it; the image is not like the archetype in every way. He later argues via the same Basil that "the honor given to the image passes to the archetype." In other words, the nice thing about images is that we know, from them being images, that they themselves are not the thing depicted (we don't risk mistaking them for the real thing, as is the problem with AI); this is a very platonic approach to art, and it makes sense. The tree you draw isn't an exact duplicate of the tree in real life, it might not even be a duplicate of any specific tree, but it still conveys meaning.
This latter point is one which he latches onto: the content-conveyance of images; i.e. they carry meaning and information of their own through analogy and as a shadow (not unlike the approximation of words!):
If then the divine Word, foreknowing our need for analogies and providing us everywhere with something to help us ascend, applies certain forms to those things that are simple and formless, how may not those things be depicted which are formed in shapes in accordance with our nature, and longed for, although they cannot be seen owing to their absence?
...
The divinely eloquent Gregory therefore says that the intellect, tiring of trying to get past all things corporeal, realizes its impotence; but 'the invisible things of God, since the creation of the world, have been clearly perceived through the things that have been made:' For we see images in created things intimating to us dimly reflections of the divine...
...
I say that everywhere we use our senses to produce an image of the Incarnate God himself, and we sanctify the first of the senses (sight being the first of the senses), just as by words hearing is sanctified. For the image is a memorial. What the book does for those who understand letters, the image does for the illiterate; the word appeals to hearing, the image appeals to sight; it conveys understanding.
...
images are books for the illiterate and silent heralds of the honor of the saints, teaching those who see with a soundless voice and sanctifying the sight? 1 may not have many books, nor have much time to read, but, strangled with thoughts, as if with thorns, I come into the common surgery of the soul, the church; the luster of the painting draws me to vision and delights my sight like a meadow and imperceptibly introduces my soul to the glory of God.
John dares to ask (indirectly) why we tend to prioritize and privilege hearing over vision in religion. As I pointed out right before these quotes, aren't images (as shadows of an arche-type) just as much analogies as words (which never 'are' the thing they represent, only ever serving as rough signposts pointing towards, or small boxes which can't ever contain the fullness of the thing)? Why do we downplay the ways in which images can be just as instructive and efficacious as words? Certainly, we aren't as functionally illiterate as they were back then, but people's superficial literacy is arguably much more dangerous than knowing you are illiterate (since it gives a false sense of security and mastery). We may get complacent in our "literacy" in a literal sense, but it would be helpful to expand this over to visuals and images as well: in what ways do we need to teach the next generation about good and bad images, just like we teach them good and bad grammar? There are visual grammars, and if we live in a visual culture (as Neil Postman argues), then how do we ensure we're literate in the lingua franca of the age?
Bringing up Postman, I'd like to resolutely disagree with him and argue even more strongly against his attack on the visual as inherently inferior to the linguistic. My favorite counterexample is the ending of Tarkovsky's "Andrei Rublev" (1966); at first, the camera is so zoomed in that we don't know what we're looking at. The only thing we notice at first is that, contrary to the rest of the film, which was black and white, now we're suddenly in color. As the camera slowly zooms out, we realize we're looking at icons painted by Andrei Rublev himself, and we learn several important, subversive lessons (without any words!). First, we learn the absolutely devastating lesson that modern art is but a fragment of premodern art; by definition, it cannot reach the heights of the premodern because it only utilizes a fraction of the tools at the artist's disposal. Secondly, we learn to step back and get the fuller picture (in life, as in art); too often we're stuck in our daily scratching through life, too interested in groceries and endless socializing and other worthless exigencies, when what really matters is in front of us the whole time, yet we're too close to see the whole thing. There's so many metaphors and lessons to glean from that final scene, and it made me laugh aloud at the joy of the revelation. Words certainly could convey a similar message, but the visual metaphor struck me through the heart at the gradual realization, and it was quite literally a perfect ending to the movie. No voice over would have helped, it only would have hurt.
In the same way, we can read the gospels, we can ponder the words of the apostles and fathers about Christ, but nothing compares to seeing a realistic depiction (or vividly imagining or hallucinating) the crucifixion. There is something about the groans of the damned, the wailing of the women, the trickling of the blood, at first glistening, then dulling to a black as it dries. Most representations modestly cover up Christ and the two thieves, but they hung naked, writhing, ultimately vulnerable in the worst way. They were jeered at by people walking by on the street. Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever seen an adequate visual representation of the crucifixion, where the camera stays static or stays from a passerby's perspective as all this happens. It usually zooms in too far (as I was just saying!) watching closely as the blood spouts from the nailed hands and feet, or zoomed in on Christ's agonized face. Even too zoomed in, these images are their own language of truth, like words are our more accepted ones; but I (and John) would argue that they are still a legitimate language, equally legitimate, even.
This all leads us directly to the most famous passage, the one which made me read this text in the first place: contra the gnostics, contra Postman, contra the fools who doubt whether Christ ever lived, contra the Muslims, contra the iconoclasts, contra mundum :
Of old, God the incorporeal and formless was never depicted, but now that God has been seen in the flesh and has associated with human kind, I depict what I have seen of God. I do not venerate matter, I venerate the fashioner of matter, who became matter for my sake and accepted to dwell in matter and through matter worked my salvation, and I will not cease from reverencing matter, through which my salvation was worked.
This quote stands alone as the jewel in the crown of this treatise, the summation and most beautiful argument in it. Even if the Old Testament did explicitly condemn images, there is something about the incarnation of God in Christ which so radically reconfigures our relationship to images, to God, to each other, that it can, once again, barely be put into words. As a different John wrote at the end of his gospel, "Jesus did many other things as well. If every one of them were written down, I suppose that even the whole world would not have room for the books that would be written." I don't think he meant this literally about the actions the man Jesus completed, but about all the reflection we could do in the wake of Christ. "For the image is a memorial" John of Damascus writes, and Christ is an image himself, an image of God, and thus images of Christ do glory to Christ, who is God himself. Art can worship God, as all the ancients knew, for veneration and worship were the origin of all art and language. John continues this thought:
And God ordered twelve stones to be taken from the Jordan, and he gave the reason; for he said, "so that, when your son asks you, what are these stones? you shall relate how the water of the Jordan failed at the divine command, and the ark of the Lord and all the people passed over:' How therefore shall we not depict in images what Christ our God endured for our salvation and his miracles, so that, when my son asks me, what is this? I shall say that God the Word became human and through him not only did Israel cross over the Jordan, but our whole nature was restored to ancient blessedness, through which that nature has ascended from the lowest parts of the earth beyond every principality and is seated on the very throne of the Father...
Images exist to help teach the next generation, to help make it more real; for reducing Christianity to a set of texts is a deadly, deadening thing. It risks making the religion abstract, when true Christianity is an earthy, embodied, warty, sometimes ugly, but always physical thing. It's what Christianity fought so hard against in the early years against the gnostics, then later against the Muslims, and now yet again against the transhumanists and the technophiles. John again:
You, perhaps, are exalted and immaterial and have come to transcend the body and as fleshless, so to speak, you spit with contempt on everything visible, but I, since I am a human being and wear a body, I long to have communion in a bodily way with what is holy and to see it. Condescend to my lowly understanding, O exalted one, that you may preserve your exaltedness.
As Protestantism has gained a huge foothold in the Christian world, so have good works and sainthood been denigrated and trampled on. As one infamous hymn says, "Good works cannot avert our doom, / They help and save us never." This begs the obvious question: why do Protestants hate the body and the saints, refusing to extol any good works and refusing to acknowledge any positive examples of how to live out our faith? Dare we be at all surprised by the rise of MAGA, so-called Christian Nationalism, and other blatantly anti-christian wolves in sheep's clothing? As Lewis wrote, not just secular society, but I would argue also most protestant churches make "men without chests" and "bid the geldings be fruitful." As John sanely reminds us, icons help fix our attention upon the example of the great saints and "arous[e] many to deeds of excellence", probably more than words can. In other words, why do we weaken our case by using only words (instead of words AND images, in the same way modern art uses only color, not color and form)? "For what the word of a story makes present through hearing, the very same is shown silently in a picture through imitation."
I'd like to end with my second favorite quote, one I already quoted above, but which bears repeating (as this is a book of much repetition):
Images are books for the illiterate and silent heralds of the honor of the saints, teaching those who see with a soundless voice and sanctifying the sight? I may not have many books, nor have much time to read, but, strangled with thoughts, as if with thorns, I come into the common surgery of the soul, the church; the luster of the painting draws me to vision and delights my sight like a meadow and imperceptibly introduces my soul to the glory of God. I have seen the perseverance of the martyr, the recompense of the crowns, and as if by fire I am eagerly kindled to zeal and falling
down I venerate God through the martyr and I receive salvation. Have I not heard the same God-bearing Father saying, in his homily on the beginning of the Psalms, that "the Holy Spirit, knowing that the human race is lazy and moved with difficulty to virtue, mixed melody with the singing of psalms"? What do you say? Shall I not paint in words and in colors the martyrdom of the martyrs and embrace with eyes and lips "what is wonderful to angels and the whole creation, painful to the devil and fearful to demons;" as the same beacon of the Church said?
We denigrate images at our own peril; they just as easily can be a boon and an oasis as the cause of problems we so exclusively see them as today. Let's return to moderation, to saneness, for "The truth, pursuing a middle way, denies all these absurdities..."
It's easy to attack images in a time of over-consumption, media-glut, analysis paralysis, whatever you wanna call it. It's revolutionary to stand up against iconoclasm, especially when the whole world wants, in disgust, to get rid of images. It's easy to react out of anger and fear, it's easy to read only the literal words and go no further. This is the first of many hurdles that John successfully overcomes: the second commandment says to not make graven images, yet he reminds us that the Hebrews did make images, such as the bronze serpent, the ark of the covenant, and other artwork, often explicitly for veneration. So, from that simple observation, icons should be allowed. Immediately, we get a call to patient interpretation rather than hasty deconstruction: "Brothers, those who do not know the Scriptures truly err, for as they do not know that 'the letter kills, but the Spirit gives life;' they do not interpret the spirit hidden beneath the letter."
To understand the debate more thoroughly, John explains the different forms of veneration and also defines what images are. The veneration part is currently less interesting to me, but the one thing I'll say about it is that back then they had more explicit forms of veneration, such as bowing before magistrates or rulers. Nowadays, in our false sense of democracy and egalitarianism, we balk at the idea of ever bowing to anyone, let alone God. But, like I observed in my review of Tertullian's De Spectaculis, we worship gods whenever we consume media, and the same can be said for John's case: worship, veneration, there's a lot of overlap here, and a very similar point gets made.
As for John's definition of images (the intro helpfully points out that "icon" is simply the Greek word for image) is borrowed from Basil the Great: An image is a likeness depicting an archetype, but having some difference from it; the image is not like the archetype in every way. He later argues via the same Basil that "the honor given to the image passes to the archetype." In other words, the nice thing about images is that we know, from them being images, that they themselves are not the thing depicted (we don't risk mistaking them for the real thing, as is the problem with AI); this is a very platonic approach to art, and it makes sense. The tree you draw isn't an exact duplicate of the tree in real life, it might not even be a duplicate of any specific tree, but it still conveys meaning.
This latter point is one which he latches onto: the content-conveyance of images; i.e. they carry meaning and information of their own through analogy and as a shadow (not unlike the approximation of words!):
If then the divine Word, foreknowing our need for analogies and providing us everywhere with something to help us ascend, applies certain forms to those things that are simple and formless, how may not those things be depicted which are formed in shapes in accordance with our nature, and longed for, although they cannot be seen owing to their absence?
...
The divinely eloquent Gregory therefore says that the intellect, tiring of trying to get past all things corporeal, realizes its impotence; but 'the invisible things of God, since the creation of the world, have been clearly perceived through the things that have been made:' For we see images in created things intimating to us dimly reflections of the divine...
...
I say that everywhere we use our senses to produce an image of the Incarnate God himself, and we sanctify the first of the senses (sight being the first of the senses), just as by words hearing is sanctified. For the image is a memorial. What the book does for those who understand letters, the image does for the illiterate; the word appeals to hearing, the image appeals to sight; it conveys understanding.
...
images are books for the illiterate and silent heralds of the honor of the saints, teaching those who see with a soundless voice and sanctifying the sight? 1 may not have many books, nor have much time to read, but, strangled with thoughts, as if with thorns, I come into the common surgery of the soul, the church; the luster of the painting draws me to vision and delights my sight like a meadow and imperceptibly introduces my soul to the glory of God.
John dares to ask (indirectly) why we tend to prioritize and privilege hearing over vision in religion. As I pointed out right before these quotes, aren't images (as shadows of an arche-type) just as much analogies as words (which never 'are' the thing they represent, only ever serving as rough signposts pointing towards, or small boxes which can't ever contain the fullness of the thing)? Why do we downplay the ways in which images can be just as instructive and efficacious as words? Certainly, we aren't as functionally illiterate as they were back then, but people's superficial literacy is arguably much more dangerous than knowing you are illiterate (since it gives a false sense of security and mastery). We may get complacent in our "literacy" in a literal sense, but it would be helpful to expand this over to visuals and images as well: in what ways do we need to teach the next generation about good and bad images, just like we teach them good and bad grammar? There are visual grammars, and if we live in a visual culture (as Neil Postman argues), then how do we ensure we're literate in the lingua franca of the age?
Bringing up Postman, I'd like to resolutely disagree with him and argue even more strongly against his attack on the visual as inherently inferior to the linguistic. My favorite counterexample is the ending of Tarkovsky's "Andrei Rublev" (1966); at first, the camera is so zoomed in that we don't know what we're looking at. The only thing we notice at first is that, contrary to the rest of the film, which was black and white, now we're suddenly in color. As the camera slowly zooms out, we realize we're looking at icons painted by Andrei Rublev himself, and we learn several important, subversive lessons (without any words!). First, we learn the absolutely devastating lesson that modern art is but a fragment of premodern art; by definition, it cannot reach the heights of the premodern because it only utilizes a fraction of the tools at the artist's disposal. Secondly, we learn to step back and get the fuller picture (in life, as in art); too often we're stuck in our daily scratching through life, too interested in groceries and endless socializing and other worthless exigencies, when what really matters is in front of us the whole time, yet we're too close to see the whole thing. There's so many metaphors and lessons to glean from that final scene, and it made me laugh aloud at the joy of the revelation. Words certainly could convey a similar message, but the visual metaphor struck me through the heart at the gradual realization, and it was quite literally a perfect ending to the movie. No voice over would have helped, it only would have hurt.
In the same way, we can read the gospels, we can ponder the words of the apostles and fathers about Christ, but nothing compares to seeing a realistic depiction (or vividly imagining or hallucinating) the crucifixion. There is something about the groans of the damned, the wailing of the women, the trickling of the blood, at first glistening, then dulling to a black as it dries. Most representations modestly cover up Christ and the two thieves, but they hung naked, writhing, ultimately vulnerable in the worst way. They were jeered at by people walking by on the street. Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever seen an adequate visual representation of the crucifixion, where the camera stays static or stays from a passerby's perspective as all this happens. It usually zooms in too far (as I was just saying!) watching closely as the blood spouts from the nailed hands and feet, or zoomed in on Christ's agonized face. Even too zoomed in, these images are their own language of truth, like words are our more accepted ones; but I (and John) would argue that they are still a legitimate language, equally legitimate, even.
This all leads us directly to the most famous passage, the one which made me read this text in the first place: contra the gnostics, contra Postman, contra the fools who doubt whether Christ ever lived, contra the Muslims, contra the iconoclasts, contra mundum :
Of old, God the incorporeal and formless was never depicted, but now that God has been seen in the flesh and has associated with human kind, I depict what I have seen of God. I do not venerate matter, I venerate the fashioner of matter, who became matter for my sake and accepted to dwell in matter and through matter worked my salvation, and I will not cease from reverencing matter, through which my salvation was worked.
This quote stands alone as the jewel in the crown of this treatise, the summation and most beautiful argument in it. Even if the Old Testament did explicitly condemn images, there is something about the incarnation of God in Christ which so radically reconfigures our relationship to images, to God, to each other, that it can, once again, barely be put into words. As a different John wrote at the end of his gospel, "Jesus did many other things as well. If every one of them were written down, I suppose that even the whole world would not have room for the books that would be written." I don't think he meant this literally about the actions the man Jesus completed, but about all the reflection we could do in the wake of Christ. "For the image is a memorial" John of Damascus writes, and Christ is an image himself, an image of God, and thus images of Christ do glory to Christ, who is God himself. Art can worship God, as all the ancients knew, for veneration and worship were the origin of all art and language. John continues this thought:
And God ordered twelve stones to be taken from the Jordan, and he gave the reason; for he said, "so that, when your son asks you, what are these stones? you shall relate how the water of the Jordan failed at the divine command, and the ark of the Lord and all the people passed over:' How therefore shall we not depict in images what Christ our God endured for our salvation and his miracles, so that, when my son asks me, what is this? I shall say that God the Word became human and through him not only did Israel cross over the Jordan, but our whole nature was restored to ancient blessedness, through which that nature has ascended from the lowest parts of the earth beyond every principality and is seated on the very throne of the Father...
Images exist to help teach the next generation, to help make it more real; for reducing Christianity to a set of texts is a deadly, deadening thing. It risks making the religion abstract, when true Christianity is an earthy, embodied, warty, sometimes ugly, but always physical thing. It's what Christianity fought so hard against in the early years against the gnostics, then later against the Muslims, and now yet again against the transhumanists and the technophiles. John again:
You, perhaps, are exalted and immaterial and have come to transcend the body and as fleshless, so to speak, you spit with contempt on everything visible, but I, since I am a human being and wear a body, I long to have communion in a bodily way with what is holy and to see it. Condescend to my lowly understanding, O exalted one, that you may preserve your exaltedness.
As Protestantism has gained a huge foothold in the Christian world, so have good works and sainthood been denigrated and trampled on. As one infamous hymn says, "Good works cannot avert our doom, / They help and save us never." This begs the obvious question: why do Protestants hate the body and the saints, refusing to extol any good works and refusing to acknowledge any positive examples of how to live out our faith? Dare we be at all surprised by the rise of MAGA, so-called Christian Nationalism, and other blatantly anti-christian wolves in sheep's clothing? As Lewis wrote, not just secular society, but I would argue also most protestant churches make "men without chests" and "bid the geldings be fruitful." As John sanely reminds us, icons help fix our attention upon the example of the great saints and "arous[e] many to deeds of excellence", probably more than words can. In other words, why do we weaken our case by using only words (instead of words AND images, in the same way modern art uses only color, not color and form)? "For what the word of a story makes present through hearing, the very same is shown silently in a picture through imitation."
I'd like to end with my second favorite quote, one I already quoted above, but which bears repeating (as this is a book of much repetition):
Images are books for the illiterate and silent heralds of the honor of the saints, teaching those who see with a soundless voice and sanctifying the sight? I may not have many books, nor have much time to read, but, strangled with thoughts, as if with thorns, I come into the common surgery of the soul, the church; the luster of the painting draws me to vision and delights my sight like a meadow and imperceptibly introduces my soul to the glory of God. I have seen the perseverance of the martyr, the recompense of the crowns, and as if by fire I am eagerly kindled to zeal and falling
down I venerate God through the martyr and I receive salvation. Have I not heard the same God-bearing Father saying, in his homily on the beginning of the Psalms, that "the Holy Spirit, knowing that the human race is lazy and moved with difficulty to virtue, mixed melody with the singing of psalms"? What do you say? Shall I not paint in words and in colors the martyrdom of the martyrs and embrace with eyes and lips "what is wonderful to angels and the whole creation, painful to the devil and fearful to demons;" as the same beacon of the Church said?
We denigrate images at our own peril; they just as easily can be a boon and an oasis as the cause of problems we so exclusively see them as today. Let's return to moderation, to saneness, for "The truth, pursuing a middle way, denies all these absurdities..."
October 8, 2025
St. John of Damascus was a Syrian monk whose writings heavily influenced important decisions within the church around the 8th and 9th centuries. This book is one of his most well known and influential works. In these treatises, St. John is fighting against Iconoclasm (the belief that there should be no images of Christ and the saints in the church INTENDED for worship), which was deemed as heretical during this period because of the Iconoclast’s refusal to make and venerate icons in the church.
St. John’s main argument behind why Christians should make venerable images of Christ is because His very nature calls for it. We know that the second commandment forbids the making of graven images and idols (Ex. 20:4), therefore depicting the invisible God would be in violation of this command. However, Jesus, taking on human form, allowed Himself to be viewed in the physical realm. Therefore, Christ is allowing and urging believers to worship Him by depicting Him. St. John says these words in his second treatise: "I do not worship matter; I worship the Creator of matter, who became matter for me, taking up His abode in matter, and accomplishing my salvation through matter.” He continually emphasizes the fact that Christians do not see the image itself as the object of worship, but simply the window into the worship of the object that which the image depicts (i.e. Christ). He has many subarguments to this, but that is the foundational assertion to those who defend the veneration of icons.
The points he made alongside his main argument were very eye-opening and challenged some of the preconceived notions I had towards this theological school of thought. This was a relatively new area of study for me, and it was a fun academic exercise gaining insight into the thoughts of Eastern Christianity. As you can probably tell, I’d love to talk about it if you’re interested
St. John’s main argument behind why Christians should make venerable images of Christ is because His very nature calls for it. We know that the second commandment forbids the making of graven images and idols (Ex. 20:4), therefore depicting the invisible God would be in violation of this command. However, Jesus, taking on human form, allowed Himself to be viewed in the physical realm. Therefore, Christ is allowing and urging believers to worship Him by depicting Him. St. John says these words in his second treatise: "I do not worship matter; I worship the Creator of matter, who became matter for me, taking up His abode in matter, and accomplishing my salvation through matter.” He continually emphasizes the fact that Christians do not see the image itself as the object of worship, but simply the window into the worship of the object that which the image depicts (i.e. Christ). He has many subarguments to this, but that is the foundational assertion to those who defend the veneration of icons.
The points he made alongside his main argument were very eye-opening and challenged some of the preconceived notions I had towards this theological school of thought. This was a relatively new area of study for me, and it was a fun academic exercise gaining insight into the thoughts of Eastern Christianity. As you can probably tell, I’d love to talk about it if you’re interested
May 2, 2022
A very interesting and worthwhile read, if flawed. 3.5.
September 8, 2025
even better on reread
August 9, 2007
ON THE DIVINE IMAGES is a series of apologies written by St John of Damascus in the 8th century against the iconoclasm begun by Byzantine emperor Leo III. The writer was safe from persecution in the monastery of St Sabbas in Palestine, outside of the Byzantine empire, and the destruction of images by his fellow Christians in Byzantium, who had long resisted the image-hating Muslim hordes, must have seemed like the greatest madness to him.
At the heart of St John of Damascus' argument is that the Son of God become matter and therefore can be depicted; to resist depictions of Jesus Christ is to reject that Christ was fully man, a heresy the Church had already confronted and defeated at earlier ecumenical councils. Images of Christ are necessary to safeguard this truth about His nature, St John says. "I do not worship matter, but I worship the creator of matter who became matter for my sake..." He also shows how the use of material objects and even images in worship enjoys sanction in the Old Testament, for the Ark of the Covenant was adorned with cherubim and Aaron's staff and the tablets were placed within, and God commanded Moses to make an image of a serpent to heal all who were bitten by snakes.
The work consists of three apologies. The first is the most passionate, but the latter two are more logically structured. It is in the third apology that St John of Damascus makes the well-known distinction between absolute worship, given to the Trinity alone, and "relative worship", or veneration, given to material objects which remind us of God, to the saints who have gone before, and to our fellow Christians. After each apology follows a list of citations from the Church Fathers supporting the use of images, indicating that images have been around since the first days of the Church and were not an innovation of the era of St John of Damascus.
I found some parts of St John of Damascus' apology to be wanting. For example, he does not give a strong argument as to how veneration of an image passes to its prototype. The attestation of the Church that it is so is enough to convince Orthodox Christians, but it would still be nice to see a chain of reasoning. Maybe I have gotten too used to modern philosophical writers like Richard Swinburne, but I like theological arguments to be very rigorous.
The translation of this work is based originally on that of Mary H. Allies published in 1898. David Anderson revised and amplified it, correcting errors and eliminating archaic language. Footnotes are given to indicate Scriptural references. Anderson has chosen to cut out the citations after the third apology which had already appeared in earlier portions. The translation is quite readable, though I suppose that most of the target audience of this edition is already trained enough to read the original Greek.
At the heart of St John of Damascus' argument is that the Son of God become matter and therefore can be depicted; to resist depictions of Jesus Christ is to reject that Christ was fully man, a heresy the Church had already confronted and defeated at earlier ecumenical councils. Images of Christ are necessary to safeguard this truth about His nature, St John says. "I do not worship matter, but I worship the creator of matter who became matter for my sake..." He also shows how the use of material objects and even images in worship enjoys sanction in the Old Testament, for the Ark of the Covenant was adorned with cherubim and Aaron's staff and the tablets were placed within, and God commanded Moses to make an image of a serpent to heal all who were bitten by snakes.
The work consists of three apologies. The first is the most passionate, but the latter two are more logically structured. It is in the third apology that St John of Damascus makes the well-known distinction between absolute worship, given to the Trinity alone, and "relative worship", or veneration, given to material objects which remind us of God, to the saints who have gone before, and to our fellow Christians. After each apology follows a list of citations from the Church Fathers supporting the use of images, indicating that images have been around since the first days of the Church and were not an innovation of the era of St John of Damascus.
I found some parts of St John of Damascus' apology to be wanting. For example, he does not give a strong argument as to how veneration of an image passes to its prototype. The attestation of the Church that it is so is enough to convince Orthodox Christians, but it would still be nice to see a chain of reasoning. Maybe I have gotten too used to modern philosophical writers like Richard Swinburne, but I like theological arguments to be very rigorous.
The translation of this work is based originally on that of Mary H. Allies published in 1898. David Anderson revised and amplified it, correcting errors and eliminating archaic language. Footnotes are given to indicate Scriptural references. Anderson has chosen to cut out the citations after the third apology which had already appeared in earlier portions. The translation is quite readable, though I suppose that most of the target audience of this edition is already trained enough to read the original Greek.
September 2, 2023
As someone who was taught that all images are a second commandment violation, this work really helped form my conscious properly in regards to iconography. St. John makes a thorough argumentation for the use of iconography that simply cannot be refuted. He first speaks to the notion that any image is a violation of the second commandment by pointing out that God commanded Israel to carve images on the ark of the covenant and venerate them, as well as the serpent on Moses’ staff. He then talks about the differences between veneration and idolatry and how the image is a prototype (or a window into heaven) where the respect is passed on to the one being depicted, not to the wood and paint. The charge of idolatry is ridiculous in this light, because we do not offer sacrifice or worship to the image, but instead offer our deep love and respect to whom the image bears. Likewise, to disrespect the image is to disrespect the person depicted. St. John then gives the chief argument, that Christ himself became the very image of God in the incarnation, thus allowing Himself to be depicted. To reject the imagery of Christ then is to reject the incarnation itself. The book ends with various quotes from saints and fathers speaking on the tradition of iconography and stories in church history of miracles attached to the icons.
January 3, 2022
What's there is quite good and worth reading. However, each of the three treatises are in large part word for word copies with only a few additions or alterations. It's difficult to read all three back to back simply because it's repetitive.
Still, John's writing is great and a good argument or the practice of iconography in Christianity. Also, it's an all around beautiful devotional on the Trinity and the incarnation.
Still, John's writing is great and a good argument or the practice of iconography in Christianity. Also, it's an all around beautiful devotional on the Trinity and the incarnation.
January 19, 2011
A bit repetitive, but overall a pretty good defense of the practice of icon veneration within the Church.
June 22, 2024
The classic patristic defense of the veneration of icons over against the 8th century iconoclasts.
June 3, 2018
In defense of matter.
September 25, 2023
I had read sections of these treatise in undergraduate and seminary, and when I had done that original reading I remember being somewhat persuaded by what John was saying. Now that I have read them in full, I realize that my professors had cut around a lot of the bad argumentation hidden within these treatise in order to make sure John had the best case made for himself. While I found this reading historically fulfilling as a voice within a schism in the church, but John’s arguments are fairly weak.
I should say that my rating is one of John’s work and arguments and not the rating of Louth who did the translation, footnotes, and editing. His work is A+ scholarship. I appreciated greatly his honesty about a lot of things that John says that are warped or unfounded (he makes this clear in the footnotes.) So Louth deserves lots of credit for his work here and I’m continually impressed by the work that St. Vladimir’s press does on this stuff.
John’s arguments can be broken down into five areas, I’ll rank them from worst to best:
1) The law against idolatry was for the Jews only because they were like children, but Christians won’t be prone to idolatry so we don’t have to worry about it.
2) Secret church tradition that is apostolic and the apostles used and taught the veneration of images.
3) Images are inherently archetypal and if you honor the archetype you must honor the image (Platonism)
4) If the iconoclasts are against images they should also be against generation of the cross, facing East, and honoring the holy places in the holy land.
5) There are places in scripture where God commands images to be made (tabernacle, bronze serpent, temple) therefore images aren’t disallowed.
I’m not going to comment on all of them, but just looking at that list you can probably see the pitfalls of the arguments. Most work I’ve read on this stuff from the Orthodox perspective is focused on that third point. Some e-trad orthobros will focus on hidden knowledge, but as the footnotes in John’s florilegia in this book show it can’t be trusted because much of it is fabrication or speculation. While the Platonic arguments of John may be compelling in a philosophical level, they aren’t compelling on a scriptural level. One can say, easily, “God commands images, therefore it okay to make images and put them in worship spaces.” It’s entirely a different argument to say, “God commands images, therefore it’s okay to make them, put them in worship spaces, bow down to them, kiss them, treat them as holy relics, and put tokens on them when they heal you from disease.”
The problem with the Iconoclast/Iconodule arguments in the church is that the true answer lies in the middle-Iconiclast side. I say this as someone who comes from a very iconoclastic tradition. To me it just seems to make the most scriptural and historical sense to say: “yeah images are okay, but due to the human heart we should avoid decking out are sanctuaries with them and we certainly shouldn’t do more than meditate on them.” Will this ever be accepted? Probably not, but between the radical iconoclasm of Calvin and Zwingli vs the Iconodoulia of the Damascene I think that’s the best option in the church.
Overall, I’m glad I read this because it gave me a better understanding of the argument and also made me think through the issue more.
I should say that my rating is one of John’s work and arguments and not the rating of Louth who did the translation, footnotes, and editing. His work is A+ scholarship. I appreciated greatly his honesty about a lot of things that John says that are warped or unfounded (he makes this clear in the footnotes.) So Louth deserves lots of credit for his work here and I’m continually impressed by the work that St. Vladimir’s press does on this stuff.
John’s arguments can be broken down into five areas, I’ll rank them from worst to best:
1) The law against idolatry was for the Jews only because they were like children, but Christians won’t be prone to idolatry so we don’t have to worry about it.
2) Secret church tradition that is apostolic and the apostles used and taught the veneration of images.
3) Images are inherently archetypal and if you honor the archetype you must honor the image (Platonism)
4) If the iconoclasts are against images they should also be against generation of the cross, facing East, and honoring the holy places in the holy land.
5) There are places in scripture where God commands images to be made (tabernacle, bronze serpent, temple) therefore images aren’t disallowed.
I’m not going to comment on all of them, but just looking at that list you can probably see the pitfalls of the arguments. Most work I’ve read on this stuff from the Orthodox perspective is focused on that third point. Some e-trad orthobros will focus on hidden knowledge, but as the footnotes in John’s florilegia in this book show it can’t be trusted because much of it is fabrication or speculation. While the Platonic arguments of John may be compelling in a philosophical level, they aren’t compelling on a scriptural level. One can say, easily, “God commands images, therefore it okay to make images and put them in worship spaces.” It’s entirely a different argument to say, “God commands images, therefore it’s okay to make them, put them in worship spaces, bow down to them, kiss them, treat them as holy relics, and put tokens on them when they heal you from disease.”
The problem with the Iconoclast/Iconodule arguments in the church is that the true answer lies in the middle-Iconiclast side. I say this as someone who comes from a very iconoclastic tradition. To me it just seems to make the most scriptural and historical sense to say: “yeah images are okay, but due to the human heart we should avoid decking out are sanctuaries with them and we certainly shouldn’t do more than meditate on them.” Will this ever be accepted? Probably not, but between the radical iconoclasm of Calvin and Zwingli vs the Iconodoulia of the Damascene I think that’s the best option in the church.
Overall, I’m glad I read this because it gave me a better understanding of the argument and also made me think through the issue more.
September 30, 2024
A seminal text on the issue of icom veneration in the Catholic and Orthodox traditions, these three treatises are a robust defense of the traditional practice. John Damascene, in many ways the last of the major Church Fathers, offers the blue print for every major defense of images in liturgical life since
While technically different, these three treatises are incredibly similar to one another. Repurposing arguments, Damascene really only changes the breadth of his defense and what he includes in the citations at the end of each treatise. Essentially, icons are permitted because of Christ's incarnation that fundamentally altered our ability to depict the divine. Prior to the incarnation, Damascene concedes that you can't depict God but now that we have Christ, the Second Person of the Most Holy Trinity, taking on the flesh of man such limitations are gone. He also alleges that people arguing against icons fail to provide a robust defense from the scriptures as the commands of God about venerating idols isn't what iconophiles are doing. Images as such aren't banned either as God commanded the construction of the cherubim to adorn the Ark of The Covenant.
Most of my interest in the text came from an interest in images and art as such from a more more modern, Heideggerian point of view. The idea of self transportation as a way of forming world immediately called to mind liturgy/ icons in apostolic church practice. Damascene, however, doesn't speak very much about image or icon as such. Only one small paragraph is given where he refers to it as an archetype. Of course, there is much hidden within the text we must draw out and reveal as it were
While technically different, these three treatises are incredibly similar to one another. Repurposing arguments, Damascene really only changes the breadth of his defense and what he includes in the citations at the end of each treatise. Essentially, icons are permitted because of Christ's incarnation that fundamentally altered our ability to depict the divine. Prior to the incarnation, Damascene concedes that you can't depict God but now that we have Christ, the Second Person of the Most Holy Trinity, taking on the flesh of man such limitations are gone. He also alleges that people arguing against icons fail to provide a robust defense from the scriptures as the commands of God about venerating idols isn't what iconophiles are doing. Images as such aren't banned either as God commanded the construction of the cherubim to adorn the Ark of The Covenant.
Most of my interest in the text came from an interest in images and art as such from a more more modern, Heideggerian point of view. The idea of self transportation as a way of forming world immediately called to mind liturgy/ icons in apostolic church practice. Damascene, however, doesn't speak very much about image or icon as such. Only one small paragraph is given where he refers to it as an archetype. Of course, there is much hidden within the text we must draw out and reveal as it were
February 21, 2025
I am currently writing a thesis on icons, and thier importance in worship. This book was one of the first ones I read, and it was comprehensive and understandable, while still containing deep theological insight. These apologies are a great read for anyone seeking to understand the theology behind icons, particularly in response to the iconoclasts of the eighth century.
St. John defends the veneration of icons, arguing from both Scripture, and tradition. The central part of his argument is that the Incarnation is the foundation for Christian imagery. Becasue Christ became incarnate and took on flesh, He can be depicted. His arguments are rooted in the reality that God’s invisible nature was made visible in Christ, allowing for sacred representation without idolatry.
St. John states, "In former times God, who is without form or body could never be depicted. But now when God is seen in the flesh conversing with men, I make an image of the God whom I see. I do not worship matter; I worship the Creator of matter who became matter for my sake." I think this perfectly summarizes his argument, as icons are made possible through the visible incarnation, and are affirmed through creation.
St. John defends the veneration of icons, arguing from both Scripture, and tradition. The central part of his argument is that the Incarnation is the foundation for Christian imagery. Becasue Christ became incarnate and took on flesh, He can be depicted. His arguments are rooted in the reality that God’s invisible nature was made visible in Christ, allowing for sacred representation without idolatry.
St. John states, "In former times God, who is without form or body could never be depicted. But now when God is seen in the flesh conversing with men, I make an image of the God whom I see. I do not worship matter; I worship the Creator of matter who became matter for my sake." I think this perfectly summarizes his argument, as icons are made possible through the visible incarnation, and are affirmed through creation.
July 20, 2022
The most convincing argument John the Damascene offers for venerating icons of Christ is that Logos became incarnate, and taking on Flesh, infuses matter and its particular form, namely, the human being (which itself is fashioned after the image of God) with grace and divinity. The Lord became one of us and died as one of us. Therefore it is not idolatrous depict God as a human being and venerate it, the cross and other material signs in which God's energies were and are at work. In my opinion this dogmatic argument triumphs the theological arguments that the word is also in a sense an icon or a likeness, and that the Son is also a likeness of the Father and vice versa.
As for the saints, their icons too should be venerated because one pays respect to the master through thanking his servants for their exceptional service so that future generations will emulate their actions.
As for the saints, their icons too should be venerated because one pays respect to the master through thanking his servants for their exceptional service so that future generations will emulate their actions.
March 1, 2018
A classic treatise on the proper veneration of holy images by Christians. St. John lays out what have become the usual arguments, but also some points I hadn't really heard much about before: that, even in the Scriptures, we see different degrees of worship afforded to different people and things, such as Jacob bowing down before (worshiping) Pharaoh. The arguments that rely on tradition (and, this, the numerous patristic citations) will likely be unconvincing to Protestants, but the arguments from Scripture should be sufficient. "I do not worship matter; I worship the Creator of matter who became matter for my sake, who willed to take His abode in matter; who worked out my salvation through matter. Never will I cease honoring the matter which wrought my salvation! I honor it, but not as God."
October 14, 2020
Interesting book to read laying out the scriptural, traditional, and rational reasons for the veneration of images of the Son, Mary, and the saints. On the basis of the incarnation of God we should receive the practice of venerating icon. Iconoclasm, which is a perennial issue, is ultimately founded on principles against the incarnation and what it accomplished. The book itself is interesting too because it is made of three sections, each of which John of Damascus seems to be developing his arguments to be more sophisticated and referencing more sources. It made John of Damascus feel like a real person who was responding to real arguments from actual opponents as opposed to some ancient text distant and removed.
All to say, I guess I need to find my nearest iconographer and I would recommend this to all Christians to read!
All to say, I guess I need to find my nearest iconographer and I would recommend this to all Christians to read!
October 31, 2023
This is less a defense of religious art and more a defense of venerating icons. John’s three different “treatises” cover much of the same ground and even repeat similar arguments. The last one is the longest and most fleshed out.
His primary arguments in favor of venerating icons are: 1) God uses icons throughout Scripture and in the temple, 2) the prohibition against making images was for immature Israel not the church, 3) veneration is not worship but honor, and 4) the veneration does not go to the icon but through it to God.
I’m all about religious art but didn’t appreciate how John tied together all religious art with venerating icons. I appreciated his arguments even though I find parts of them flawed and overstated.
This book is one of the more significant ancient defenses of icons. I would recommend it to those interested in this debate but would skip it otherwise.
His primary arguments in favor of venerating icons are: 1) God uses icons throughout Scripture and in the temple, 2) the prohibition against making images was for immature Israel not the church, 3) veneration is not worship but honor, and 4) the veneration does not go to the icon but through it to God.
I’m all about religious art but didn’t appreciate how John tied together all religious art with venerating icons. I appreciated his arguments even though I find parts of them flawed and overstated.
This book is one of the more significant ancient defenses of icons. I would recommend it to those interested in this debate but would skip it otherwise.
November 17, 2014
St. John of Damascus, Three Treatises on the Divine Images, translated by Andrew Louth (Crestwood: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 2003). Pp. 163. Paperback $17.00.
If anyone is interested in Orthodox iconography, or the tradition of Christian painting, this book is a must read. Because this book is well translated and very accessible, I highly recommend simply reading this book – a primary source – rather than reading a secondary source where an author describes St. John of Damascus’s theology of iconography. What makes this book an especially “must read” for those interested in iconography is the influence St. John had on the theology of Christian images. This book provides the foundation for all subsequent theology. In addition, St. John not only articulates the theology of images, but he articulates how iconography is central to all of Christian theology. His treatment is all-inclusive, and it goes much further than simply arguing that now that God has been seen in the person of Jesus Christ we can depict his image. Because iconography is so central to Christian theology and salvation, this book is a must read.
I won’t write out his full theology here, but I will give a brief introduction. He starts by taking a look at the Old Testament prohibition against idols. St. John views this prohibition from two perspectives: 1) the nature of the commandment, and 2) the definition of veneration. He says that the nature of the commandment was to prevent the Israelites from falling into idolatry. He also argues that the commandment is more specifically against depicting the nature/essence/substance of God, and to prevent humanity from worshiping creation instead of the Creator. Iconography, St. John points out, does neither of these: it’s not a depiction of God’s essence, nor does it lead one to worship creation. The second aspect, veneration, boils down to an articulation of definition. St. John argues that veneration has two meanings: one is worship, and the other is to pay honor to someone. While worship is due to God alone, honoring the person depicted in an icon is not worship, but it is paying honor, which ultimately glorifies God.
It is, at this point, that St. John is able to fully turn his attention to iconography. What changes the entire game is the revelation of God in the person of Jesus Christ, that is God enfleshed, or Incarnate. St. John writes, “Therefore I am emboldened to depict the invisible God, not as invisible, but as he became visible for our sake, by participating in the flesh and blood. I do not depict the invisible divinity, but I depict God made visible in the flesh” (I.4).
Even the Incarnation has several levels of understanding. In the first aspect of the argument, St. John argues that what was invisible is now visible. Here he does a lengthy analysis of the definitions of “image.” He states that it is important to note that images make manifest what was hidden or unseen. In this way, an image holds two realities together: the seen/visible and unseen/invisible. With this in mind, St. John is able to say that icons of Christ both depict the Son of God as he was in the 1st century, as well as indicate his invisible presence among us now.
At this point, that St. John delves deeper into Incarnational theology. He reminds us that after God created the visible (earth, animals, seas, etc.) and invisible (heaven, angels, etc.) worlds, God created humanity to unite the two worlds (i.e., we were created in His image to attain His likeness). Our task, in sum, was to make creation a sacrament. However, we failed in this task; but Christ, through his Incarnation, was able to succeed where we failed. This union means that humanity is now infused with divinity. Matter is recreated, and it is now glorified with God’s presence. It is for this reason that we can venerate the icons.
St. John writes, “I do not venerate matter, I venerate the fashioner of matter, who became matter for my sake, and in matter made his abode, and through matter worked my salvation. ‘For the Word became flesh and dwelt among us.’ It is clear to all that flesh is matter and is a creature. I reverence therefore matter and I hold in respect and venerate that through which my salvation has come about, I reverence it not as God, but as filed with divine energy and grace” (II.14). In this way, the use of icons in worship is a sacramental act.
It is also because of the Incarnation that we can glorify God through the saints; after all they able to participate in the life of God because of the divine/human union in Christ. So when we venerate the image of the saints, we are, in actuality, glorifying God. St. John takes it further by writing, “The temple that Solomon built was dedicated with the blood of animals [Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement] and adorned with images of animals, of lions and bulls and phoenixes and pomegranates. Now the Church is dedicated by the blood of Christ and his saints and adorned with an image of Christ and his saints” (II.15).
There’s much more in this these amazing three treatises; however, it’s really about the Incarnation, the Son of God taking on flesh, and the transfiguration of matter that takes place as a result, which allows for our deification. It’s also about the meaning of image and veneration, the dignity of matter, and the importance of the unwritten tradition handed down by the Church through the apostles and now articulated by St. John.
If anyone is interested in Orthodox iconography, or the tradition of Christian painting, this book is a must read. Because this book is well translated and very accessible, I highly recommend simply reading this book – a primary source – rather than reading a secondary source where an author describes St. John of Damascus’s theology of iconography. What makes this book an especially “must read” for those interested in iconography is the influence St. John had on the theology of Christian images. This book provides the foundation for all subsequent theology. In addition, St. John not only articulates the theology of images, but he articulates how iconography is central to all of Christian theology. His treatment is all-inclusive, and it goes much further than simply arguing that now that God has been seen in the person of Jesus Christ we can depict his image. Because iconography is so central to Christian theology and salvation, this book is a must read.
I won’t write out his full theology here, but I will give a brief introduction. He starts by taking a look at the Old Testament prohibition against idols. St. John views this prohibition from two perspectives: 1) the nature of the commandment, and 2) the definition of veneration. He says that the nature of the commandment was to prevent the Israelites from falling into idolatry. He also argues that the commandment is more specifically against depicting the nature/essence/substance of God, and to prevent humanity from worshiping creation instead of the Creator. Iconography, St. John points out, does neither of these: it’s not a depiction of God’s essence, nor does it lead one to worship creation. The second aspect, veneration, boils down to an articulation of definition. St. John argues that veneration has two meanings: one is worship, and the other is to pay honor to someone. While worship is due to God alone, honoring the person depicted in an icon is not worship, but it is paying honor, which ultimately glorifies God.
It is, at this point, that St. John is able to fully turn his attention to iconography. What changes the entire game is the revelation of God in the person of Jesus Christ, that is God enfleshed, or Incarnate. St. John writes, “Therefore I am emboldened to depict the invisible God, not as invisible, but as he became visible for our sake, by participating in the flesh and blood. I do not depict the invisible divinity, but I depict God made visible in the flesh” (I.4).
Even the Incarnation has several levels of understanding. In the first aspect of the argument, St. John argues that what was invisible is now visible. Here he does a lengthy analysis of the definitions of “image.” He states that it is important to note that images make manifest what was hidden or unseen. In this way, an image holds two realities together: the seen/visible and unseen/invisible. With this in mind, St. John is able to say that icons of Christ both depict the Son of God as he was in the 1st century, as well as indicate his invisible presence among us now.
At this point, that St. John delves deeper into Incarnational theology. He reminds us that after God created the visible (earth, animals, seas, etc.) and invisible (heaven, angels, etc.) worlds, God created humanity to unite the two worlds (i.e., we were created in His image to attain His likeness). Our task, in sum, was to make creation a sacrament. However, we failed in this task; but Christ, through his Incarnation, was able to succeed where we failed. This union means that humanity is now infused with divinity. Matter is recreated, and it is now glorified with God’s presence. It is for this reason that we can venerate the icons.
St. John writes, “I do not venerate matter, I venerate the fashioner of matter, who became matter for my sake, and in matter made his abode, and through matter worked my salvation. ‘For the Word became flesh and dwelt among us.’ It is clear to all that flesh is matter and is a creature. I reverence therefore matter and I hold in respect and venerate that through which my salvation has come about, I reverence it not as God, but as filed with divine energy and grace” (II.14). In this way, the use of icons in worship is a sacramental act.
It is also because of the Incarnation that we can glorify God through the saints; after all they able to participate in the life of God because of the divine/human union in Christ. So when we venerate the image of the saints, we are, in actuality, glorifying God. St. John takes it further by writing, “The temple that Solomon built was dedicated with the blood of animals [Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement] and adorned with images of animals, of lions and bulls and phoenixes and pomegranates. Now the Church is dedicated by the blood of Christ and his saints and adorned with an image of Christ and his saints” (II.15).
There’s much more in this these amazing three treatises; however, it’s really about the Incarnation, the Son of God taking on flesh, and the transfiguration of matter that takes place as a result, which allows for our deification. It’s also about the meaning of image and veneration, the dignity of matter, and the importance of the unwritten tradition handed down by the Church through the apostles and now articulated by St. John.
July 3, 2019
This is a must read for every Orthodox Christian (Catholics also) regarding the theology of the icon. Even though it’s over 1000 years old, the message of St John of Damascus remains so very relevant today. It explains not just the application of tradition and Patristic texts which provide an understanding of icons/matter as ‘venerated’ not ‘worshiped’ but also provides very strong Biblical basis.
April 7, 2025
I received a copy of this work by St. John of Damascus some 5 or 6 years ago from a friend who is now an Anglican priest. I sat on it all this time and finally focused on completing it.
Overall, the argument is persuasive (though some examples and historical references St. John points to are suspect, to say the least) and I have to say I'm convinced of the position, contrary to my prior beliefs. Much to think about.
Overall, the argument is persuasive (though some examples and historical references St. John points to are suspect, to say the least) and I have to say I'm convinced of the position, contrary to my prior beliefs. Much to think about.
May 10, 2020
4/5.
John of Damascus argues, in the same vein as many progressive justices in the US Supreme Court, for the spirit of the law instead of the letter of the law. He doesn't argue for temperance or caution: all images that venerate God are good. It is interesting to see some of the neoplatonic influences on the Church father's rhetoric.
John of Damascus argues, in the same vein as many progressive justices in the US Supreme Court, for the spirit of the law instead of the letter of the law. He doesn't argue for temperance or caution: all images that venerate God are good. It is interesting to see some of the neoplatonic influences on the Church father's rhetoric.
November 29, 2025
This took me a while to get through. I kept picking it up and putting it down again. The content is good, and I agree with the author, I just didn't learn anything new, so it wasn't that impactful for me. The theological points and nuance of words are important, though, if you are currently wrestling with the topic.
April 14, 2019
This is a triad of systematic homilies for icons and other kinds of Christian arts (on why it is something very different from pagan idolatry) straight from the Byzantine iconomachy era. His target audience are _not_ laymen but them christian clergy people with a decent knowledge of the good book.
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