Why I'm not an Iconoclast (I love Christian art!)

Have you ever wondered why some churches are filled with vibrant imagery while others maintain stark simplicity? There are some churches out there that forbid any artwork at all, while others use it liberally.

I have to admit, when I was in St. Louis (where I attended seminary and where I was a pastor for seven years) I often went to the Cathedral Basilica just to pray within the beauty of the place. No one there who worshipped thought that the statues, the gorgeous mosaics, and stained glass were idols. But you couldn’t go there without sensing something transcendent, as if the place was a doorway or a window into the presence of God. The images there never drew my attention to the images themselves, as idols, but beyond them to the wonder of God.

Sometimes, on my ads, I get comments like, "It's a sin to write fiction about God! We should not tell stories about God apart from the Bible!" I think that's foolish, given that we're in God's image, and a part of His story. Representing God, we are story-tellers, mini-creators, who form and fashion things meant to give God glory.

But in sin, we can also "make things" for ourselves that distract from or replace God. Art, movies, fiction, our own achievements, artificial intelligence... the list goes on. Yet, none of these things are innately evil in and of themselves. It's our use or misuse that defines whether they're beneficial to the Christian life or downright idolatrous.

The question of religious art touches something profound in our spiritual experience: how do we honor the God we cannot see?  

This tension has divided Christians for centuries, with some destroying religious images while others create them. At the heart of this debate lies a single biblical text that deserves careful consideration.

 

Exegesis of the Prohibition

The prohibition against "graven images" in Exodus 20:4-6 states: "You shall not make for yourself a carved image, or any likeness of anything that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth. You shall not bow down to them or serve them..." (Ex 20:4-5a). The Hebrew term פֶּסֶל (pesel) translated as "carved image" (or "graven image") specifically denotes an idol fashioned for worship purposes. When paired with תְּמוּנָה (temunah, "likeness" or "form"), these terms indicate that what's forbidden is not artistic representation itself, but creating images intended to be worshipped as divine or to represent divinity in ways that diminish God's transcendence.

Context illuminates meaning. The Israelites had just been liberated from Egypt—a culture where gods were represented through physical images believed to embody divine presence. The Egyptians believed they could manipulate the gods by their use of such images. It was a way that they thought they could direct the gods they worshipped to do their bidding. The prohibition in Exodus, therefore, established monotheistic worship against the backdrop of polytheistic practices where images functioned not merely as symbols but as actual embodiments of deities whom the people thought they could control.  

The commandment clarifies its own scope: "You shall not bow down to them or serve them" (Ex 20:5a). The Hebrew verbs לֹא־תִשְׁתַּחְוֶה (lo tishtachaweh, "you shall not bow down") and לֹא תָעָבְדֵם (lo ta'avdem, "you shall not serve") reveal that the prohibition concerns worship directed toward images, a kind of "worship" that the Egyptians believed bound their gods to a kind of quid pro quo. The prohibition isn't against the mere existence of images. The issue is not representation but idolatry—substituting the created for the Creator.

The Golden Calf and the Gravity of Idolatry

The narrative immediately following the giving of the commandments profoundly illustrates the very danger the prohibition addresses: the episode of the Golden Calf (Exodus 32). While Moses was on Mount Sinai receiving the Law, the Israelites, growing impatient, demanded Aaron "Make us gods who will go before us" (Ex 32:1). Aaron fashioned a golden calf, and the people declared, "These are your gods, Israel, who brought you up out of Egypt" (Ex 32:4). They then offered sacrifices and celebrated.

This incident reveals the core issue: the creation of a physical image to represent the divine, followed by worship directed to that image as if it were God.

It was not merely an artistic endeavor; it was an act of substituting a visible, controllable representation for the invisible, transcendent God who had just delivered them from slavery.

Notice, likewise, that in their request they actually affirm polytheism ("make us gods...) and indicate that these "gods" will now encapsulate the wonder of the very God who'd rescued them from Egypt, now leading their way ("...gods who will go before us...").

This act provoked God's wrath, highlighting the severe consequences of idolatry. The golden calf incident underscores that the "graven images" prohibition is not an arbitrary rule against art, but a safeguard against the fundamental error of attributing divine power or essence to created things. It's about redefining God's essence, and using it in a way that you can manipulate and control. After all, if the Israelites had a "golden calf" that they believed bound the same God who'd saved them to Egypt to "go before them," it would be like telling God that wherever they had the "calf," He was bound to act.

God will not be "domesticated" that way.

The Graven Images Prohibition as Commentary on the First Commandment

This brings us to a crucial point often debated in theological circles: is the "graven images" prohibition a separate commandment, or is it an elaboration on the first? The First Commandment states: "You shall have no other gods before me" (Ex 20:3). When understood in light of the golden calf episode and the broader context of ancient Near Eastern polytheism, the prohibition against graven images appears to be a direct consequence and application of the First Commandment. If you are to have no other gods, then you certainly are not to make images and worship them as gods. The making and worshipping of graven images is a primary way in which "other gods" were introduced and served.

This understanding helps explain why the "enumeration" of the Ten Commandments differs across various religious traditions.

Jewish Tradition: Often combines Exodus 20:2 ("I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery") as the first "utterance" or commandment, and then combines Exodus 20:3-6 (no other gods and no graven images) as the second. This emphasizes that idolatry is a direct violation of God's exclusive claim.

Reformed (Calvinist) and Anglican Traditions: Typically follow a division where "You shall have no other gods before me" (Ex 20:3) is the First Commandment, and "You shall not make for yourself a carved image..." (Ex 20:4-6) is the Second. This separates the prohibition of other gods from the prohibition of images, giving the latter its own distinct emphasis.

Lutheran and Roman Catholic Traditions: Tend to combine the First Commandment ("You shall have no other gods before me" and "You shall not make for yourself a carved image...") into a single First Commandment. To maintain ten, they then split the last commandment about coveting into two: "You shall not covet your neighbor's house" and "You shall not covet your neighbor's wife... or anything that belongs to your neighbor." This emphasizes that the prohibition of images is inherently about idolatry—having other gods.

These differing enumerations are not about different sets of rules, but different ways of categorizing and emphasizing the same divine commands. The underlying theological point remains consistent: the core concern is not art per se, but idolatry—the misdirection of worship and allegiance away from the one true God, and the attempt to "lasso" God into your little circus, so you can make him sing and dance the way you'd like.

As C.S. Lewis put it in the Chronicles of Narnia, "He's not a tame lion." Those words were about Aslan, the "Lion" who represented God (actually Christ) as an allegory in his story. The point is clear, and Lewis meant it this way: we can't "tame" God, we can't domesticate Him. That's why we pray, thy will be done.

Any attempt to worship a God, no matter if you have an image involved or not, that tries to "bind him" to do your will... is idolatry. Any worship of the true God, even if you use an image to focus your mind to things above, that allows God to be God, that sacrifices your will to thy will... is genuine worship, and no idolatry.

Biblical Imagery Affirmed

Scripture itself demonstrates that not all religious imagery violates this commandment. Consider these divine commissions:

1. The Tabernacle and Temple contained numerous artistic representations, including gold cherubim on the Ark of the Covenant (Ex 25:18-22), embroidered cherubim on the curtains (Ex 26:1), and the massive olive wood cherubim in Solomon's Temple (1 Kgs 6:23-28).

2. God explicitly commanded Moses to craft a bronze serpent for healing (Num 21:8-9). Though later destroyed when it became an object of worship (2 Kgs 18:4), its original creation was divinely sanctioned.

3. Solomon's Temple featured elaborate carvings of oxen, lions, palm trees, and flowers (1 Kgs 7:29, 36).

These biblical examples reveal an important distinction: images become problematic not by their existence but by misplaced devotion. When Israel began offering incense to the bronze serpent, Hezekiah rightly destroyed it, calling it נְחֻשְׁתָּן (nehushtan, "a piece of bronze"), stripping away its perceived divine power (2 Kgs 18:4).

 

Theological Anthropology: Humans as God's Image

Perhaps most significantly, humans themselves are created as God's image: "God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him" (Gen 1:27). The Hebrew צֶלֶם (tselem, "image") indicates that humans function as God's representatives and reflections in creation. This anthropological insight provides a theological foundation for understanding sacred imagery. If humans can image God without violating the commandment, other forms of imagery can likewise serve as windows to divine realities without becoming idols.

The incarnation intensifies this truth. In Christ, "the image of the invisible God" (Col 1:15), divinity took physical form. The Word became flesh—visible, tangible, human (John 1:14). This profound mystery transforms our understanding of divine representation. If God chose to reveal himself through physical humanity, might other physical representations serve legitimate spiritual purposes?

 

The Historical Development and Second Council of Nicaea

The iconoclastic controversy that erupted in the 8th century when Byzantine Emperor Leo III banned religious images reveals how Christians have wrestled with these questions. This iconoclasm (literally "image-breaking") was met with theological resistance from defenders of icons like John of Damascus, who argued that the incarnation fundamentally changed humanity's relationship to images.

John reasoned that since the invisible God became visible in Christ, sacred images are now permitted and valuable. He distinguished between λατρεία (latreia, worship due to God alone) and προσκύνησις (proskynesis, veneration or honor given to holy persons and symbols).

The Second Council of Nicaea (787 AD) affirmed this distinction, declaring: "For the honor which is paid to the image passes on to that which the image represents, and he who reveres the image reveres in it the subject represented." The Council emphasized that images serve as pointers to divine realities, not as objects of worship themselves.

 

Pastoral and Practical Implications

Throughout most of Christian history, sacred images served crucial catechetical and devotional functions. For illiterate populations—the majority until recent centuries—images communicated biblical narratives and theological truths. As Gregory the Great noted, pictures in churches allowed those who couldn't read to still encounter scriptural stories visually.

Images also help focus our attention in prayer. Rather than praying to the image itself (which would indeed be idolatry), we pray through the image to the reality it represents. The image serves as a focal point that helps our easily-distracted minds remain centered on divine realities.

Eastern Christian theology particularly emphasizes how icons function as "windows to heaven," inviting contemplation of divine mysteries. The honor given to what is depicted in the image passes to the prototype it represents.

 

Contemporary Application

In our visually saturated age, where screens dominate our attention and images shape our understanding of reality, the theological principles regarding imagery remain vital: images can either distract from true worship or direct us toward it.

The biblical prohibition against idolatry remains crucially important. We must guard against allowing any created thing—whether physical image, theological concept, political ideology, or material possession—to usurp God's place in our hearts.

We must resist any theology that tries to bind God to do our will.

Yet this doesn't require rejecting sacred imagery. Rather, it invites us to approach such imagery with theological discernment, recognizing that properly understood, sacred art can nourish faith and draw us deeper into communion with God.

Consider how we naturally use photographs of loved ones. We cherish these images not because we confuse them with the actual person, but because they connect us with someone we love. The image points beyond itself to a deeper reality.

Similarly, religious imagery can orient our hearts toward divine realities without becoming objects of worship themselves. The commandment against graven images protects us from reducing God to manageable, manipulable forms. God transcends all our attempts at representation. Yet God also chooses to make himself known through created things—supremely in Christ, but also through Scripture, sacraments, and the created order itself.

Perhaps the question isn't whether images are permitted, but how they function in our spiritual lives. Do they terminate our devotion on the visible, or do they invite us into encounter with the invisible God?

Do they reduce divine mystery to human control, or do they expand our spiritual vision beyond what we can comprehend?

In this light, the Second Commandment serves not as a blanket prohibition against religious imagery but as a guardrail protecting true worship. It prevents us from domesticating divinity while still allowing for meaningful representation that serves faithful devotion.

Martin Luther, initially sympathetic to iconoclasm, later defended appropriate use of religious images, writing: "I have allowed pictures to remain, that people might see the stories and thus better understand what is written in books" (Against the Heavenly Prophets (1525), LW 40:99).

The Bible itself employs rich imagery to help us comprehend divine realities—God as shepherd, rock, fortress, father, mother hen. These verbal images serve the same function as visual ones: they make the invisible accessible without claiming to exhaust divine mystery.

What if both stark simplicity and rich imagery can serve authentic worship? What if the Second Commandment calls not for the absence of images but for their proper use—always pointing beyond themselves to the One who transcends all representation? In our diverse Christian traditions, perhaps we can learn from one another's approaches to sacred space. Those from image-rich traditions might appreciate how minimalist worship spaces emphasize divine transcendence. Those from image-sparse traditions might discover how sacred art can be a powerful aid to devotion, provided it is properly understood and utilized.

Ultimately, being "not an iconoclast" means affirming the rich tapestry of God's self-revelation, which includes both the spoken word and visible forms. It means recognizing that our human capacity for imagery, when rightly ordered, can serve as a conduit for contemplating the divine, not a barrier.

It means safeguarding against the perennial temptation of idolatry while embracing the potential for beauty and meaning in our spiritual lives. Our goal should always be to cultivate a heart that is fully devoted to the one true God, and if images can help lead us deeper into that devotion, then they serve a holy purpose.

 

In Jesus' name,

Judah