From Idols to Icons: The Emergence of Devotional Images in Late Antiquity by Robin M.Jensen(Oakland, CA: University of California Press, 2022), xix + 252 pp.

In her recent monograph From Idols to Icons, Robin Jensen traces the rise of Christian iconography within late antiquity. Jensen seeks to account for the absence of Christian visual art in the first two centuries; the emergence of narrative (predominately Old Testament) scenes in the early third century; and the surprising rise of portraiture in the late fourth and early fifth centuries. She first tackles the longstanding assumption that the earliest Christians’ condemnation of idolatry implies their wholesale rejection of pictorial art. She shows that the Christian denunciation of idolatry concerns not art per se but rather the worship of false gods: the visual representations of pagan deities were either merely inanimate and therefore foolish objects or conduits for malevolent spirits. Still, if early Christians were neither aniconic nor iconophobic, why the dearth of Christian art within the first two centuries? Jensen offers one possibility: the earliest Christians did not have the financial means to produce or procure their own types of visual art, and so they appropriated pagan symbols—doves, anchors, ships, or fish—for their own purposes. For instance, Christians might use a grape or wheat harvesting scene to signify the Eucharist; or they might use a fishing scene to signify Christ's call to evangelism. As such, Christian art was indistinguishable from non-Christian art. Jensen therefore contests the claim that Christians were opposed to religious art in the first two centuries. Jensen then turns to the emergence of biblical narrative scenes in the early third century. She examines the theological considerations that accompanied this rise in narrative art, especially the portrayal of the invisible God within these Old Testament narrative scenes. She discusses two common features in this regard. The first is the prevalence of aniconic depictions of God: artists would circumvent the issue of God's invisibility by representing him symbolically within biblical scenes. For instance, the image of the manus Dei was a common motif: Jews and Christians would depict God's presence as a disembodied hand that addresses and interacts with other biblical characters. The second is the prevalence of depictions of the preincarnate Word: artists overcame the issue of God's invisibility by representing Old Testament theophanies as appearances of the preincarnate Word (in line with common early Christian Old Testament interpretations). Therefore, beginning in the third century, biblical narratives scenes, with both symbolic and incarnational depictions of God, were commonplace. Finally, Jensen traces the rise of sacred portraiture beginning in the late fourth century. She notes that the absence of holy portraits (that is, nonnarratival frontal images of Christ and the saints) before the late fourth century is significant since portraits depicting gods were ubiquitous throughout the Greco-Roman world. Jensen discusses the fourth-century critique and approbation of sacred portraiture: some Christians were cautious about the veneration of such images; others saw them as inspiring holiness. By the fifth and sixth centuries, however, holy portraits had become widespread. Jensen also deals with the likeness of images to their models. She shows that the accurate representation of an image was not generally a concern: an icon was intended not to replicate the saint's appearance but to represent the holy person in order to cultivate devotion and mediate presence. This explains the inclusion of the saint's name and recognizable attributes, as well as a glowing nimbus or mandorla. The varied depictions of Christ—even within one and the same church—evidence that Christians did not seek one normative representation. Jensen's book culminates with her consideration of the growing emphasis upon the mediating function of materiality. The rise of relics—the veneration of saints’ bodies, the consecration of basilicas with martyrs’ remains, the pilgrimages made to coffins and tombs—occurred immediately prior to the emergence of holy portraits. Soon, stories emerged regarding portraits not made by human hands, for instance, stories of Christ's face pressed upon a cloth, as well as stories regarding miracle-working images—human-made portraits that bleed or effect repentance. In other words, in the fourth century materiality became invested with spiritual force. As Jensen notes, “The appearance of the relic cult shortly before the emergence of saints’ portraits is part of what scholars often refer to as Christianity's material turn” (130). Jensen presents leading explanations for this fourth-century turn toward materiality. She provides three common explanations for the turn toward materiality and offers rebuttals to them. First, scholars suggest that image veneration constitutes a Christian backsliding into pagan idolatry. Images arose among ordinary (non-elite) Christians, so the narrative goes, and were eventually endorsed by ecclesial authorities. Some scholars view this positively: it constitutes a devotional practice for the marginalized over and against the more conservative elite (i.e., ecclesial authorities). Jensen's strongest argument against this account is that it overlooks the reality that art was costly. Second, scholars suggest that the focus on Christological issues within the fourth century precipitated an appreciation for the human body and therefore materiality in general. Jensen responds that Christians prior to the fourth century also affirmed the incarnation and the goodness of materiality. Further, it was only Christians in the eighth century, not those in the fourth, who appealed to the incarnation to justify images. Third, scholars suggest that Constantine's conversion and the consequent emergence of the imperial church account for Christianity's turn toward materiality. As Jensen rightly notes, Constantine's benefactions may have facilitated Christianity's emphasis upon materiality, but they do not account for Christianity's emphasis upon materiality. Further, the turn toward materiality began prior to Constantine's conversion with painted church walls and the emergence of pilgrimages. Jensen suggests instead that Neoplatonism prompted Christians to rethink the relationship between bodily and spiritual sight: the Neoplatonist valuation of materiality as the means to spiritual truths informed the Christian emphasis upon materiality and the visual arts. In particular, Jensen points to the influence of Plotinus and Iamblichus in the third and fourth centuries. Plotinus viewed all materiality (including art) as matter that both participates in and mediates its underlying form. Therefore, the one who views materiality (and thus art) is prompted to recognize in it the form (i.e., its intelligibility). Images therefore function as useful signs that enable the viewer to comprehend intelligible realities. Iamblichus believed that there is a congruence between visible things and invisible realities; in this way, ritual objects (i.e., statues, temples) could be seen as visible representations of invisible realities. Plotinus's doctrine of participation and Iamblichus's doctrine of congruency precipitated the Christian valuation of materiality as both a sign or symbol and a conduit for the spiritual, which informed Christianity's turn toward the material: “Prior to the mid-fourth century, Christians did not appreciably discern much, if any, religious value in the external, sensible world. But from then through the sixth century, the validity of the visible and the purpose of the sensible and material world became core to Christian belief and practices. Relics, sacred places, and saints’ images were believed to link the earthly and heavenly realms, to mediate encounters with the holy, and even to perform miraculous healings or ward off both demons and human enemies” (157). Jensen's thesis is certainly intriguing. She discusses the influence of Neoplatonism upon Christianity with regard to the latter's appreciation of materiality. This discussion raises two issues. First, some readers might like to hear more about Jensen's views on how Neoplatonism directly informed Christianity's views of materiality, and on its impact on Christianity's turn toward art specifically. Jensen dedicates only five pages to Neoplatonist and subsequent Christian attitudes toward bodily and spiritual sight, and evidence for the direct influence of Neoplatonism on Christianity in this regard is lacking. Jensen discusses three Christian figures: Basil of Caesarea, Augustine, and Pseudo-Dionysius; however, the latter two figures, though certainly influenced by Neoplatonism, appear later than the emergence of sacred portraiture and thus do not help account for the positive valuation of materiality and consequent emergence of sacred portraiture in the fourth century. Further, the importance that Jensen gives to Neoplatonism for the thought of Basil of Caesarea seems unconvincing. John Rist has refuted the thesis that Plotinus significantly influenced Christian thinkers in the fourth century; according to Rist, Plotinus was a marginal Platonic thinker whose influence was negligible. While it is commonly held that Plotinus influenced the Christian tradition through the Cappadocians, Rist maintains that the influence of Plotinus upon the Cappadocians was minimal. Even Gregory of Nyssa, the most (neo)Platonic of the three Cappadocians, was mostly dependent upon Origen for his Platonism, and therefore his metaphysic is largely pre-Plotinian. In the Christian West, Marius Victorinus (mid-fourth century) was the first to know Plotinus well. It was Augustine, according to Rist, who disseminated Plotinus to the Christian intellectual tradition. It is no wonder, then, that Jensen offers her most substantial reflection with regard to Augustine's use of Neoplatonic understandings of bodily and spiritual vision. Second, Jensen argues for a distinctively Plotinian view of the relationship between bodily and spiritual vision. She points to Ennead 5: the perception of beauty within this world leads the viewer from the natural world toward invisible realties, and so bodily sight gives way as the viewer ascends up the ladder to intelligible comprehension. We may ask, however: is this theory of perception entirely different than that of Plato? It seems that the account Diotima provides in the Symposium is markedly similar: one ascends from the beauty of an individual to the beauty of many; from the beauty of the body to the beauty of the soul; and, finally, to the immaterial forms and the Beautiful itself. As Diotima summarizes, “Using these beautiful things here as steps (ἐπαναβασμοῖς)” allows the viewer to behold “the beautiful itself” (211c–d). It seems that both Plato and Plotinus had a theory of bodily vision that enables vision of spiritual realities. I wonder, then, to what extent Plotinus's distinctive theory of vision informed Christian attitudes toward art. Regardless, Jensen's book is invaluable for its overview of the rise of Christian art in the earliest centuries and its attendant issues. Jensen challenges common narratives regarding the supposed early Christian aversion to art; she provides insightful analyses of the theological issues accompanying the rise of Christian narrative imagery; and, finally, she discusses the unexpected emergence of iconography in the fourth century. Further, Jensen includes magnificent imagery that suitably illustrates the topics she discusses. Overall, the book is beneficial for those wanting to learn more about Christian art in the first centuries.

Fetched live from OpenAlex and de-inverted. Abstracts are not stored in this database: the inverted indexes are 8.6 GB of the frame’s 9.3 GB of text, and the host has 13 GB free.