By Jane Spencer

Christ Pantocrator, or “He Who can do all things,” is an enigmatic icon—one of the first images ever painted of Christ. Scholars have discussed and disagreed on the meaning behind His asymmetrical expression; some hold that the two sides of the face depict mercy and justice, while others argue that they represent the human and divine natures. Some prefer to interpret the softer expression as Christ’s serene divinity, while the darker side is His suffering humanity. Still others believe that the gentler side expresses His humanity, while the sterner side is the awe-inspiring divinity. Interpretations widely differ, and while we don’t know the artist’s original intention, the piece sparks many meditations, each true in its own light. It’s no wonder that the icon—painted around 300 AD, continues to spark discussion and investigation; it is at once strikingly beautiful, mysterious, and theologically rich.

Byzantine Iconography and Modern Sensibilities

Byzantine iconography often leaves our modern sensibilities feeling cold. The figures are flat, rigid, and solemn. Unlike the currently popular holy cards of sweet saints surrounded by soft clouds in pastel pink, the ancient simplicity subjects our eyes and our emotions to a Lenten fast. These artists, however, didn’t simplify their paintings because they were incapable of more complexity or naturalism; it was a deliberate choice.

The early Christians lived alongside pagan Greeks and Romans who used art not only to celebrate, but literally to impersonate their divinities. A statue of Venus, for example, wasn’t carved to represent the goddess, but to be her; the very marble was worshipped. Artists depicted their gods naturalistically, trying to make the statues so life-like that they were immediately and easily present to the viewer. They also idealized nature, removing ordinary human flaws and exaggerating the body’s graceful proportions. As a result, the piece of art was quite literally god to the ancient pagans—sensual, natural, and irresistibly beautiful.

The early Christian artists took a radically different approach. For them, art was not divinity, but symbolism. As if to preach that God can’t be seen or touched, they deliberately refrained from painting naturalistically. The flat, rigid figures don’t show a lack of talent in the artist; rather, they are his way of pointing the viewer not to the three-dimensional world of the senses, but to the transcendent spiritual dimension. We might be tempted to call a Byzantine icon less “realistic” than a classical Greek statue or a later Italian Renaissance painting; in fact, however, both styles are equally real. One simply points to the reality which we experience through our five senses, while the other symbolizes the reality of the spiritual world.

The Symbolic Language of Icons

Byzantine iconography has a symbolic language of its own. One of its silent ways of speaking is through color. In the Pantocrator icon, Christ’s deep purple mantle references His kingship; purple was a color exclusively (even legally) reserved for use on the Byzantine emperor, and Christ. The gold of the background shows Christ’s divinity. Red—which subtly flecks the halo—symbolizes passionate love, suffering, and resurrected life. Another symbolic tool of iconography is the deliberate distortion of facial proportions. The enlarging of the eyes and ears can symbolize a habit of contemplation, while a small mouth shows a humble silence. Icons seem suffused with light; rather than painting shadows and light sources naturally as later Renaissance painters would, Byzantine iconographers suggested a spiritual, internal light by minimizing shadows.

The oldest known icon of Christ Pantocrator, encaustic on panel (Saint Catherine’s Monastery).

These ancient paintings are the seeds for later Christian art; since icons were small and easily carried around for devotional purposes—much like modern holy cards—their influence spread from the Byzantine Empire around the world. Late Medieval and early Renaissance Italian art especially shows strong traces of iconography; Cimabue’s Madonna Enthroned, for example, depicts Our Lady and the angels and prophets as somewhat two-dimensional and stylized, and yet the artist situates Our Lady on a three-dimensional throne which hints at future Renaissance developments. Christian artists were now exploring how a beautiful and accurate portrayal of the physical world could glorify its Author and inspire joyful awe in the viewer. By the time artists like Michelangelo and Raphael decorated the Vatican, Christian art showed the same convincing naturalism as the pagan Greek and Roman art, but with a very different intention. Like Byzantine iconographers, these Renaissance painters were symbolizing spiritual truths, using art as a springboard to meditation. For example, Michelangelo’s Creation on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel portrays the Creator God as an old man full of strength and energy, transmitting His life to the limp body of Adam. The Renaissance painters used natural beauty as effectively as the ancient Greek and Roman sculptors; their goal, however, was to symbolize divine beauty, like the Byzantine iconographers.

In a sense, all good Christian art remains close to its iconographic roots because the Church has always used art as a symbol. It isn’t meant to be worshipped in itself, but looked through like a window to a higher world. A Byzantine icon like Christ Pantocrator is almost a poem; nearly every line, color and shape conveys a deeper meaning, more than meets the eye. The Catholic artistic tradition, while it has embraced many styles, always encourages the viewer to see first with his eyes, and then with his mind and heart. Once he develops this habit, the whole world becomes an icon. Any beauty first delights him, and then teaches him more about its Creator; mountains, oceans, and the faces of his friends will be symbols to him of the height, depth and richness of God.