Guest Opinion by Joseph Bremer
As Catholic parishes seek to reintroduce traditional art in the wake of the architectural relativism that characterized much of the late twentieth century, many have turned to Eastern iconography as a means of incorporating art that is meaningful, beautiful, and rooted in tradition. This trend was recently highlighted by David Clayton in his article Eastward Ho! and is one that many of us are likely to encounter with increasing frequency.
However, there is a potential concern with the use of these images, particularly when they are employed as a way to “traditionalize” otherwise modernist church buildings. The issue is not that these icons originate from a non-Roman tradition, but rather that they were created for a specific purpose that does not align with their typical use in the Roman Catholic context: namely, veneration.
Within the Western tradition, the veneration of icons does not hold the same theological or liturgical role as it does in the East. As such, the incorporation of Eastern iconography into Roman Catholic churches may in fact continue a departure from, rather than a return to, the Western artistic tradition.
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| Fourth or fifth Century Pantocrator in the Catacombs of St. Calixtus, Rome |
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| Romanesque iconography in the 11th and 12th centuries (post formal East-West Schism) seems a clear indication that there was some sort of icon veneration in the West |
Before turning to specific Western artistic traditions, it is important to clarify what I do —and do not— mean by the terms icon and veneration, and why it matters to contemporary priests considering what art to include in their parish.
‘Icon’ is a tricky word. They usually represent figures removed from temporal and historical context, which is distinguished from the traditional point of narrative images, which intentionally ground figures in a time in place: icons of Christ often show him clothed in the garb of Roman nobility, St. Paul is present in the icon of Pentecost, etc.
Artistic language, especially religious artistic language, can always be difficult to pin down, but most would accept that “An icon is a devotional image that demands reverence and respect; it is holy in the sense that it shares in the sanctity of the figure whose likeness it bears .” (Thomas Noble, Images, Iconoclasm, and the Carolingians. Philadelphia, Pennsylvania: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2009. p.29.) As St. Theodore the Studite writes:
Every artificial image...exhibits in itself, by way of imitation, the form of its model...the model [is] in the image, the one in the other, except for the difference of substance. Hence, he who reveres an image surely reveres the person whom the image shows; not the substance of the image.... Nor does the singleness of his veneration separate the model from the image, since, by virtue of imitation, the image and the model are one....
Since the image itself is holy as it shares in the sanctity of its likeness, the icon is differentiated from other religious art insofar as it necessitates a form of veneration.
In the Eastern tradition, an icon is “hypostatically different, yet in nature identical to that which it is depicting.” (Lossky and Ouspensky p. 32) When praying to an image of St. Paul, Eastern Christians believe that one is truly interacting with St. Paul through St. Paul’s nature. St. John of Damascus writes that “the image of Christ is Christ, and the image of a saint is that saint. The power is not split asunder, the glory is not divided, but the glory becomes the attribute of him who is depicted.” (St. John of Damascus. Commentary on St. Basil the Great, appended to First Discourse in Defence of Holy Icons. p. 94.)
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| The veneration of the icon in an Eastern church |
All of this is to say that Eastern Christians believe, in a certain sense, that an icon actually is the saint it is depicting. The reverence and veneration Catholics give to relics is equivalent to the veneration Eastern Christians give to icons; and we can see that the word veneration means two very different things.
Interestingly, the Council of Trent demands “that the images of Christ, of the Virgin Mother of God, and of the other saints, are to be had and retained particularly in temples, and that due honour and veneration are to be given them.” (See: www.history.hanover.edu/texts/trent/ct25.html.) It seems then, that since veneration is what makes an icon, and we give veneration to images of Christ, the Mother of God, and saints, that all Catholic images of these subjects are icons.
A Catholic certainly venerates an image of Christ in the sense of showing it respect and reverence; however, he does not regard the image of St. Christopher on his car’s dashboard as a manifestation of the saint’s true presence. While it is true that both Eastern and Western traditions involve the veneration of sacred images, the nature of veneration associated with Eastern icons —that being the praise and worship involved in that saint's real presence — is not typically reflected in Western devotional practice.
Finally, it is in this comparison between East and West that a very relevant distinction needs to be drawn, especially insofar as we work for traditional liturgies and liturgical images. In the East, iconography is often venerated on its own, outside of a liturgy. Eastern icons saturate a sacred space and image veneration arises from the visual environment.
In contrast, the Latin tradition —though certainly not devoid of extra-liturgical devotion to images— typically orders sacred imagery toward and through the liturgy. Speaking now specifically within the context of art within churches; while prayer at shrines, statues, and devotional images are common and important, such practices remain ancillary to the liturgical life of the Church. Sacred art in the West traditionally exists in service to the rites: altarpieces, statuary, and mural cycles don’t exist so much for private veneration as to illuminate and deepen actual participation in the Mass, even formally outside of a sacramental setting.
The Eastern and Western understanding of images is crucial here. St. Paul’s nature is still understood to be just as present in his icon whether or not a liturgy is taking place. A statue of St. Paul in a gothic church, for instance, is not venerated as a manifestation of his real presence per se, but serves to direct the attention in prayer, and that is most fully done within the context of the liturgy. This functional specificity means that images in the Latin tradition are more tightly integrated into their particular context —whether as part of an altar, a devotional shrine, or a narrative cycle— and their meaning is often inseparable from that setting.
An icon designed for an iconostasis taken out of an Eastern church is still just as much an icon as before. A Western altarpiece taken outside of a church loses its purpose, and much more of its meaning.
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| Caravaggio paintings above the altar in the Capella Contarelli in San Luigi dei Francesci |
The Devotional Image
It is within the context of specific devotional images that the Western artistic tradition most clearly intersects with that of the East. Devotional images in the West have many similarities with icons in the East: namely that their simplicity, dignity, and centricity are designed to evoke inward spiritual responses through prayer and contemplation on their own. (Kristen Van Ausdall, “Communicating with the Host: Imagery and Eucharistic Contact in Late Medieval and Early Renaissance Italy”.) Western devotional imagery is extraordinarily dynamic, manifesting in a wide array of forms including wall paintings, sculpture, and even devotional figurines and crafted dolls. (Visel, 32.)
For those seeking older, icon-like images rooted in historical tradition, there exists a rich reservoir of artistic forms that predate modern devotional styles and offer a more symbolically structured and liturgically resonant visual language.
One such image is the Salus Populi Romani housed in the Basilica of Santa Maria Maggiore. This icon is among the rare examples of pre-Second Council of Nicaea Byzantine images to survive the waves of iconoclasm. Despite its Eastern origin, the Salus Populi Romani has been received and integrated into the devotional life of the Latin Church in a manner that is both liturgically and culturally appropriate. Its longstanding use as an object of veneration in the West makes it a unique example of a Byzantine icon whose presence and function align naturally with Western devotional practices.
Another example of Western devotional images that exist independent of liturgy is the indulgenced image. The origins of this practice seem to stem from Pope Innocent III, who attached an indulgence to a prayer he wrote in honor of the Vera Icona, an image of the Holy Face on Veronica’s veil. (Visel, 33). Those who prayed before this image, and many other indulgenced images thereafter, would receive a partial indulgence. Indulgenced images eventually developed into more elaborate forms, including indulgenced altarpieces, which in turn gave rise to the concept of privileged altars —altars at which masses were granted special indulgences when offered under specific conditions.
Although indulgenced images and privileged altars came under restriction in the 16th and 17th centuries, their earlier popularity testifies to the longstanding role of private devotional images in the Western tradition. From the earliest centuries of Christianity through to the modern day, such images have been a vital part of Catholic devotional life, serving as aids to prayer outside of formal liturgy.
It would be appropriate, then, for parishes to seek out certain devotional images that are well-suited to their particular spiritual and architectural contexts. By drawing from the Western tradition parishes can integrate sacred art that complements both the liturgical life of the Church and the devotional life of the faithful. Such an approach ensures that the visual language of the church remains theologically coherent, pastorally appropriate, and rooted in sacred tradition.
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| A version of the Vera Icona by Jan van Eyck |
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| The Mass of St. Gregory (1539). A popular indulgenced image |
Liturgical Images; Romanesque and Early Gothic
While devotional images are intended primarily for prayer outside the formal structure of the liturgy, the Western tradition also thrives when it incorporates icon-like images within the liturgical setting itself. These images —whether found in altarpieces, processional art, or the decorative programs of sacred architecture— are not merely devotional aids but integral elements of the liturgical environment.
Two artistic traditions which are particularly appropriate in this vein are Romanesque and Early Gothic; traditions that fulfill the desire for icon-like imagery within the Western prioritization of participation in the liturgy. Romanesque and Early Gothic painting, spanning from the 11th to 13th centuries, typically depict simplified forms in narrative scenes designed to heighten prayer in liturgy.
Romanesque and Early Gothic painting is characterized by solidity and symbolic clarity. Frescoes and manuscript miniatures favored strong outlines, flattened space, and vibrant colors, often accompanied by inscriptions or narrative sequencing.
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| (Source) |
Ultimately, what unites Romanesque art across media is its commitment to visual theology. Whether through architecture, sculpture, or illumination, Romanesque artists sought not merely to decorate, but to instruct —to make visible the invisible truths of the faith, and to prepare the faithful to enter more deeply into the mysteries of the liturgy.
Romanesque and Early Gothic imagery would be especially well-suited for use in contemporary Catholic churches, particularly those constructed during the late twentieth century. In many such spaces, the prevailing architectural language —often minimalist or abstract— is theologically dissonant with the content of the liturgy and preaching. The formal solidity and symbolic clarity of Romanesque and Early Gothic art offers a needed corrective, grounding the visual environment in a coherent expression of the faith.
Moreover, the stylistic simplicity of the figures, with their clear lines and deliberate abstraction, harmonizes naturally with the minimalist aesthetic of modernist church architecture. The warm, earthy color palette characteristic of this period — reds, oranges, golds, and bronzes— complements contemporary materials. As a result, the integration of Romanesque and Early Gothic imagery into late twentieth-century churches allows parishes to recover a more traditional visual language without requiring a full architectural overhaul, restoring a sense of continuity with the Church’s liturgical and artistic heritage in the aftermath of a deep discontinuity.
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| Esquius: Santa Maria: Altar frontal from the Castle of Besora, 12th century |
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| The Apocalypse: San Pietro al Monte, Civate, Italy |
Importantly, Romanesque art supports both actual liturgical participation and private devotion without conflating the two, respecting the distinct functions of sacred imagery in the Western tradition. In short, Romanesque and Early Gothic art offers parishes a coherent, traditional, and pastorally effective visual language —deeply rooted in the Latin Church’s own heritage.
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| Altarpiece of St. Peter of Verona |
Another promising option for congregations seeking icon-like art is the maniera greca —a term coined by Giorgio Vasari to describe the “Greek manner” of painting that gained prominence in the 13th and 14th centuries. Popularized by artists such as Cimabue, this style preserved the symbolic richness and formal clarity of Byzantine iconography while adapting it to a distinctly Western theological and artistic context.
The maniera greca represents a moment of genuine synthesis, where the visual language of the East was received and reinterpreted within the Latin tradition, resulting in devotional images that are both theologically resonant and liturgically appropriate for Western use. The maniera greca’s adaptation of Byzantine stylistic elements to suit Western devotional sensibilities allows these images to avoid the idiosyncrasy that a purely Byzantine icon would introduce in a Western liturgical setting. By integrating Eastern aesthetics within a Western framework, this style maintains visual familiarity while remaining theologically and culturally coherent with the Latin tradition.
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| The Cambrai Madonna, Cambrai Cathedral, France |
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| Crucifix in Santa Croce, Florence, by Cimabue |
A final suggestion to those parishes wishing to maintain symbolic depth with more naturalistic tendencies would be the styles of Cimabue’s student Giotto and the Sienese painters in the early 14th centuries.
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| Lippo Memmi, Maesta in the Sala di Dante |
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| Giotto, St. Francis Receiving the Stigmata |
All of this is not to say that the Catholic artistic tradition needs a hard reset to the 12th century. Rather it is to suggest that the artistic styles proposed offer the most coherent avenue to traditional Western art that isn’t itself revolutionary. We need to ensure that efforts to reinvigorate churches with traditional art don’t suffer the same fate twentieth century churches are facing now. If we superglue icons to a brick wall, frame a low resolution print of a Caravaggio, or do anything else that doesn’t make liturgical sense, future generations will rightfully look at that work, see its incoherence, and tear it down.
For the sake of preserving and cultivating a coherent liturgical language, it is essential that those involved in the design or renovation of churches possess a clear understanding of this distinction. Only then can sacred art truly support the worship of the Church and the spiritual life of the faithful in a manner that is both beautiful and theologically sound.
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