The Rublev Trinity Icon

I'm going to put in a short, good word on behalf of the excellent book by Heiromonk Gabriel Bunge, The Rublev Trinity. In the book, Bunge traces the historical development of the iconographical tradition of Genesis 18, or the Hospitality of Abraham, beginning in the 4th century and culminating in the 14th century with the Russian monk Andrei Rublev's famous icon. Due to the iconoclasm of the 7th and 8th centuries, the extant icons from the first millennium are very limited in number, but they still provide a sense of the various contours of the tradition.

Broadly speaking, the tradition goes from angelological to christological to trinitarian. The visitors are originally portrayed as simply three angels who visit Abraham; as the tradition develops, the central angel begins to be distinguished as a type of Christ; and finally the tradition comes to full fruition by reading the episode as a typographical appearance of the Holy Trinity. 

To refresh your memory, in Genesis 18 Abraham and Sarah are visited by three men, one of whom is called "Lord" by Abraham, and who Abraham and Sarah show hospitality by preparing a meal -- bread and a calf -- for. The Lord goes on to tell Sarah that she will bear a child in her old age, and then reveals to Abraham the coming fate of Sodom of Gomorrah. 

Some of the earliest frescoes show the three visitors as angels and as essentially identical, or as slightly different but not in any manner distinguishing one as more significant than the other two. 

By the 5th century, certain distinctly christological elements begin to arise. A mosaic from San Vitale, Ravenna (pictured above), placed in the sanctuary of the Church, reveals  that the scene is being understood as an Old Testament type of the Eucharist. This is due both to the elements of the icon itself (the calf in the dish, as a type of Christ, the Lamb that was slain "from before the foundation of the world."), as well as its placement within the Church space: in the alter area (where the Holy Gifts are prepared)  and adjacent to depictions of the sacrifices of Abel and Melchisdec. This is significant because, according to the Epistle to the Hebrews, "Christ is both simultaneously the sacrifice and the priest: prefigured in Abel (cf. Heb 12:24), Melchisdec (Heb passim), and Isaac (Heb 11.19)." In this icon, the three angels are portrayed as almost identical to each other, with no real distinguishing features.

As the iconographical tradition develops, it begins to single out one of the angels as distinctly representing Christ, while the other two are reduced to angelic companions. This is done by changing the color of the central angel's nimbus to red, then by including a cross within the nimbus and depicting him as much larger than the other two angels, and later by dressing him the way that Christ is usually depicted as dressing in iconography. 

(Again, I'm outlining the iconographical tradition in extremely broad, inelegant strokes. For the full picture, please read this excellent text.)

A Trinitarian type of depiction begins to take shape long before Andrei Rublev's definitive icon is written, as many icons of the Hospitality of Abraham began to bear the title "The Holy Trinity", along with the depictions themselves becoming more trinitarian. But to save space I want to skip straight to Rublev's icon and discuss it some, with the guidance of Heiromonk Bunge.

During the development of the tradition, Abraham and Sarah were depicted for a long time, but in Rublev's icon they are no longer there. The observer takes their place as he gazes upon a type of the mystery of the Holy Trinity, and is invited to become a partaker in the inter-Trinitarian life that opens up to him by way of the Eucharist. Because the icon is a festal icon for Pentecost, Bunge reads the icon as a pictorial representation of Christ's Farewell Discourse in John 14-20, which "is completely shot through with the mystery, now being revealed, of the Triune God." 

In that discourse, Our Lord begins by telling his disciples that in His "Father's house are many rooms; if it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you?" Note the house in the background of the icon, which aligns with the figure on the left. This is one indication that the figure on the left is to be read as a type of the Father, which becomes more certain the more we contemplate the icon.

Rublev follows in the iconographical tradition that identifies the central angel as the Son. This is made clear by his dress, which is the same as that of Christ in most iconography. In addition to this, a vertical line through the center of the icon aligns the central figure with the calf in the chalice, as well as the tree in the background, which Bunge reads as an image of the Tree of Life and the Cross. Another visual cue is that the outlines of the bodies of the outer angels form a second chalice, within which the central angel sits, further deepening the Eucharistic theme.

One interesting thing that I learned from this book is that, in the process of recovering the icon from being painted over, one of the two fingers of the central angel was added on later. Originally, the only finger extended was that which now appears to be the middle finger, but is actually the index finger. This is significant because the gesture of the central figure is actually pointing at the chalice, and past it to the third figure, the angel on the right that represents the Holy Spirit. 

The angel on the left inclines his head toward neither of the other two, while they both incline theirs in the same angle toward him. This is a visual depiction of the fact that, in concert with orthodox Trinitarianism, the Father is the fountainhead -- the monarchia -- of being, from whom the Son is eternally begotten and from whom the Spirit eternally proceeds. 

Further, the figure on the left is clothed such that no arm is 'free', while the Christ-figure's right arm is uncovered, and the Holy Spirit's left arm is. This is another means for distinguishing the figures, and draws on the venerable, orthodox formula of St. Irenaeus of Lyons that says that Christ and the Spirit are the Father's "two hands" who do the Father's work within salvation history. 

The gestures of each further indicate truths about the inter-Trinitarian life that Bunge more thoroughly explicates.

Bunge also points out that, while the table with the chalice on it is obviously a type of the alter and the Eucharist, the perspective is reversed. That is, we aren't looking into the alter from the angle that laity are accustomed to, from the West looking East, rather the perspective is from behind the alter looking West, as Christ stands before the alter as our great High Priest. 

The last figure in the background, the rock which lines up with the figure on the right, most likely originally had a crack in the middle of it, according to Bunge. This would be to indicate the rock that split for Moses in the desert and poured forth water for Israel to drink (Exodus 17:6). The rock being a type of Christ, and the water which flows from the split a type of the Spirit. The sending of the Spirit being the culmination of the Johannine Farewell Discourse, and apropos of this being an icon for Pentecost.

While most of what I've highlighted focuses on the manner that the figures are distinguished in relation to each other, just as significant is that they are depicted as the same size with identical facial features, which is an expression of the consubstantiality and equality of the persons of the Godhead. 

The beauty and the mystery of this icon run much deeper than my outline do any sort of justice to, so please read the book if the subject piques your interest. 

In The Art of the Icon: A Theology of Beauty, Paul Evdokimov reads the Rublev Trinity in an extremely bizarre manner, completely out of sync with everything I had come to understand about it and seemingly contradicting some of these these obvious facts about the icon, especially in the context of the iconographical tradition. Specifically, Evdokimov identifies the central angel as the Father, rendering his reading quite incoherent, from my perspective. Which is not to disparage that text as a whole, as it is quite profound, but Bunge's The Rublev Trinity provides a richer and more accurate reading of this particular icon, substantiated by tracing the tradition that lead up to its production.

Mary, and Icons, and Saints -- Oh my! (Journey to Orthodoxy, part 5)

Icon of St. Gregory of Nyssa

Some common stumbling blocks for Protestants examining or approaching Orthodoxy are the high mariology, the presence and veneration of icons in worship, and the practice of praying to and asking for the intercessions of the saints -- all three of these having certain points of intersection with each other. From a Protestant perspective, certain aspects of these practices and doctrines are usually outright objectionable, while other aspects are seen as tolerable, but simply unnecessary or superfluous. From an Orthodox perspective -- as I've come to understand it -- these are not simply matters of optional worship preferences which the Orthodox happen to have adopted, but are vital elements of the life and mind of the Orthodox Church and are consistent with the fullness of the Faith as it was once delivered to the Saints.

For Protestants -- and for myself, when beginning to explore Orthodoxy -- the question immediately would be what the Scriptural basis for the beliefs and practices are. As earlier entries in the series attempted to explain, given how the Orthodox understanding of Scripture, its relationship with tradition, and how authority is derived within the Church, it's unsurprising that there would be areas of significant divergence between traditions. Which is not to say that there is no Scriptural basis for the practices and beliefs. Orthodox would just say that the scriptural basis are all the verses that are not regularly underlined, or exhaustively cross-referenced, or are poorly understood due to a divergent hermeneutic. For example, some Orthodox note that Mary takes up approximately 10% of both Matthew and Luke's gospel, and that the Magnificat (Luke 1:46-55) declares that all generations will call Mary blessed. This, admittedly, seems less of a prescription and more of a description, but nevertheless, why not regularly -- rather than once a year -- call Mary blessed given her amazing role in bringing Salvation to the world? This is just one example of how Scripture accords with and provides a basis for the practices. For other examples check out series on the Ancient Faith Radio program Our Life in Christ, which has series on all these topics. That's a good starting point, anyway.

In addition to this, Orthodox would appeal to the Apostolic tradition and the Faith as it was handed down -- some of which by word and not epistle -- all of which accords with scripture, but which can't necessarily be plucked from it absent the proper hermeneutic within the life of the Church.

Icon of Christ's Baptism

At the council of Nicaea, before a canon of the New Testament existed, it was established that, for example, Christ is homooúsios with the Father, or "of one substance". The language of homooúsios isn't Biblical language, but it is still confessed by all Christians and deviations from this belief are considered heretical by virtually all of historic Christianity. There is, of course, a rich and bountiful Scriptural basis for this doctrine, but the doctrine was established before an authoritative canon of Scripture was. So just as the persons of the Trinity are homooúsios with one another, and just as this doctrine was established and settled by the conciliar model of ecclesial authority, via Apostolic tradition, so too with the veneration of icons, intercessions of the Saints, and a high mariology.

Just as the First and Second Ecumenical councils, at Nicaea and Constantinople, gave us the Creed, which is the standard ecumenical confession of the faith of Christians, the Seventh Ecumenical Council declared iconoclasm to be heresy. Just as the Fourth Ecumenical Council at Chalcedon established the canon of Scripture -- which all Christians adhere to -- the Third Ecumenical Council at Ephesus established that Mary is theotokos -- the birth-giver of God. That is, not merely the mother of Jesus's human nature and not the divine Logos -- as Nestorius was teaching -- but of God the Son.

Protestants take issue with these beliefs and practices on various levels. They might not object to calling Mary theotokos, for example, but they will object to praying to her or the Saints. They might not have a problem with making icons, or adorning churches with them (though they don't do it), but they do have a problem with their veneration because it seems like idol worship to them. This is approximately where I was when I began attending orthodox services, though by that time I had adopted the stance of a learner and was open to the possibility that I was ignorant. With this in mind, I sought answers on these issues.

Icon of Mary, the Theotokos, with Christ.

A very brief theological defense of a high mariology and of the place of iconography in worship is this: the Incarnation. Both of these elements of doctrine and praxis are consequences of an affirmation of the Incarnation. If Christ is fully man and fully God, then Mary can properly be called the mother of God, or theotokos. If Christ is, as St. Paul says, the "image [or icon] of the invisible God" (Col. 1:15), then the invisible God -- who can not be pictured -- now can be in the Second Person of the Trinity, Jesus Christ.

Also, where the iconography and the mariology merge -- in icons of Mary -- Christ is virtually always depicted with Mary. She is significant because of Christ's significance, and Orthodox veneration of her always points to Christ. She was an obedient and pure servant of God's, but it's ultimately about what God has done through her and which she cooperated with. She was the first believer; She was the culmination of Israel's lineage and was chosen to bear God the Word; Christ took his human nature from her flesh; the uncircumscribable and uncontainable God was circumscribed and contained in her womb. These are magnificent, holy mysteries and it is a disservice to Christ and the reality of his Incarnation to diminish or downplay them in any way.

Of course, many evangelicals might say "well yeah, I affirm most of those things about Mary", which points to a broader issue with evangelicalism. If you affirm that, then why is it omitted from your prayers and worship? This is a separate issue, one that is somewhat touched on in earlier posts, but in my experience it is unhelpful to officially affirm doctrines on your doctrinal statement -- "Christ was born of the Virgin Mary", perhaps -- which then have no consequence in the language or shape of liturgical worship and life. If it is a truth and it's something you affirm, then let it loose, don't keep it quietly locked away on the Church website.

As for Protestants who wouldn't affirm Mary as theotokos or -- to bring up another issue -- her ever-virginity, one wonders why they don't seeing as Luther, Calvin, Zwingli and Wesley all did.

Returning to the issue of icons and their veneration, the chief issue here is that the 2nd commandment says not to make a graven image and worship it. Orthodox venerate icons but don't worship them, as worship belongs to God alone.

If God's truth can be contained and transmitted through Scripture, which of course it can, then why can it not be contained and transmitted by image? Orthodox see both scripture and iconography as different vessels of the same truth, the truth of the Gospel. One are words written by human hands, hands belonging to members of Christ's church who have the Holy Spirit; the other are images written by human hands, hands belonging to members of Christ's Church who have the Holy Spirit. Both bearing witness to the same truth(s).

As for veneration of icons, I found this illustration helpful: when a World War II fighter pilot kissed a photograph of his wife, was he committing adultery? Was he confused? Did he love the photograph more than his wife? Was he unaware that the image is an icon of a living reality that is not contained by the image? Of course not. The same is true of Orthodox veneration of icons. Icons transmit the Gospel, they are a window to the spiritual realm, they are a testament to the fact that the saints are alive in Christ and not dead, they affirm the reality of the Incarnation, and they are a monument to the beauty of God. Thus when Orthodox venerate them they are affirming these truths and simultaneously ascribing honor and veneration to the living truth which the icon images forth.

As this post is getting lengthy, I will cut it off here and address prayers to the Saints, intercessions of the Saints, and the Orthodox understanding of death in the next post (all of which ties in to the issue of icons, since much iconography in the Orthodox Church depicts saints and martyrs of the Church). I may also touch on an issue I said I would address but neglected, that of the Great Schism and the filioque.