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The Holy Trinity Icon
(painting, c. 1410)
At first glance this famous icon might be a little puzzling to the modern viewer. Who are these three figures highlighted with golden halos? Their barely sketched-out surroundings give us little clue; then we realize that the tree in the upper-right-hand side of the icon is the Oak of Mamre, from the story in Genesis 18, where three angels visit Abraham and Sarah to deliver news from God. Andrei Rublev, the most famous icon painter, adapted that biblical story to represent one of the most mysterious tenets of the Christian faith: the doctrine of the Trinity. When we look more closely at the three figures, we realize that their faces are identical in appearance, and most experts believe that they represent, from left to right, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. The three, while distinct, are ultimately One. They cannot easily be distinguished from one another but are each a unique and individual person.
The members of the Trinity are seated around a table, and on that table, in a central position that draws our eyes, is a chalice. That cup is almost certainly intended to put us in mind of the Eucharist and the blood of Christ, who gestures toward it. The three figures are not static; there is a lively communication implied in their eyes, filled with love and blessing. In this icon we glimpse the truth that the three members of the Trinity are in an intimate relationship with one another. And not only with each other but also with us. The icon is a reminder that we are invited into the circle of relationship shared by the divine Trinity, for there is an empty place at the table in the foreground of the image. Perhaps that place has been readied for us, where we may fellowship with the Holy Trinity and partake of the holy cup of salvation.
The Holy Trinity by Andrei Rublev, Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow [Wikimedia Commons, CC-PD-Mark]
Very little is known about Andrei Rublev, the artist who created this icon. He was born in the 1360s and died sometime between 1427 and 1430. Rublev was a Russian monk and is considered the greatest of the medieval icon painters; his work is famous for its calm serenity and spirituality. He was canonized by the Russian Orthodox church in 1988.
Our word icon comes from a Greek word usually translated as image or likeness. It is the same word used in Colossians 1:15 in reference to Christ being the image of the invisible God. And that is what icons are attempting to do—make visible the invisible. They are usually painted on a wooden panel, and are normally small enough to be portable. They can be placed on a shelf in the home of an Orthodox believer—unless they are created for use in a church, in which case they are larger and grander. The subject matter of icons is pretty much limited to spiritual subjects: portraits of Christ, the Virgin Mary, angels, saints, or some important spiritual event from Scripture or church history. They are often accented with gold.
According to legend, the first icon was created by the Gospel writer Luke, when he painted a likeness of Mary while she was still alive. (There is also a famous icon that shows Luke at an easel painting her.) In the fourth century Chrysostom wrote of having a portrait of the apostle Paul on his desk to inspire him as he penned his famous sermons. But the earliest surviving icons are from the sixth and seventh centuries, almost all of them preserved at St. Catherine’s Monastery in Syria. That remote location saved them from the ravages of the iconoclastic controversy.
In 726 Emperor Leo III, perhaps partially influenced by the Islamic ban on images and concerned that Christians were in danger of the sin of idolatry due to their dedication to icons, banned them from his empire. This ban lasted for over a hundred years, and along with much theological argument, debate, and disputation over the perceived blessing or danger of such images came the destruction of countless icons. They were tracked down, painted over, defaced, hacked to pieces, or burned in an attempt to rid the empire of this particular form of religious expression. Except for those secreted away, most icons were destroyed during these years. Later, though Eastern Church councils finally decided in favor of them, icons were still endangered as the target of thieves due to the gold and gems they contained. But in spite of the difficulties, the traditions of iconography lived on, especially in Eastern traditions of Christianity. Once Christianity was embraced in Russia, icons became a very cherished and important part of spreading the gospel there. In the West, debates over the appropriateness of religious images have long been an ongoing subject of argument, but among Christians of the East icons are an important expression of faith.
Although Orthodox believers will sometimes speak of venerating an icon, that does not mean they conceive of it as an object of worship. It is an image, but not a “graven image” as prohibited in the Ten Commandments. An icon is emphatically not an idol.
Neither, however, is it considered to be a work of art in our usual sense of the word. It is not intended for our aesthetic pleasure nor is it open to individual subjective interpretation in the way that much religious art is. Instead, it is meant to be a communication of Christian truths in a visual form. As John of Damascus wrote, “What the written word is to those who know letters, the icon is to the unlettered; what speech is to the ear, the icon is to the eye.”1 In fact, Orthodox believers tend to refer to icons as being “written” rather than “painted.” They are meant to be read, and the icon is meant to appeal to the mind as much as the emotions. It teaches. And what it teaches is spiritual reality and how we are to relate to it.
The way that the subject matter of the icon is represented, however, does not come from the imagination of the individual painter but from traditions handed down for centuries. Icon painters do not paint freely from their imaginations but instead exercise their creativity within carefully delineated forms and archetypes within the long tradition of icon painting. Individual expression is not the goal of the icon, though it is interesting to see how much difference can exist even when painters are painting the same subject with the exact same formula and parameters.
The icon is understood by Orthodox Christians as a place where God can be experienced. It makes us present to the event or person being portrayed, and draws us into a relationship with that person or event. It is, in the words of Linette Martin, a “sacred doorway,”2 a passage between this world and the spiritual world that lies beyond our senses. Accordingly, when we gaze upon an icon with rapt attention and concentration another realm opens up to us. Patience and vulnerability will allow an icon to fully reveal itself to the viewer, and that viewer will be drawn into prayer.
An icon is, above all else, an aid to prayer. One does not pray to an icon but rather through an icon. Whatever its aesthetic qualities might be, the icon is primarily a stimulus for praying. Since icons rarely portray movement, there is a quiet stillness about them that evokes the same kind of quiet and stillness within the attentive viewer. By helping us quiet our minds, icons prepare us to pray. And through their simplicity they help us to focus, creating a window through which we might begin to see the eternal. We are invited to join the holy persons who are their subjects, stepping into a place of adoration at the intersection between the human and the divine. God is seen as approachable in that he once dwelt in these holy men and women, but he is also awesome and mysterious, as are the icons themselves. For the heart that is open, the icon becomes a place to meet God, a door to step through into his presence.
Many icons are simply luminous, with a glow that seems to come from within. Perhaps one of the causes of this is that the subject of the icon is not normally lit from either side or from above or from below—or from any light source outside the work, as would be the case in most Western art. Instead, the light comes from behind or within the subject, often aided by a shining gold background, which creates a holy aura about the person portrayed. Also, rarely is there any more than a suggestion of situating the subject within any recognizable location. Instead the icon is timeless, and occupies a holy space that it invites us to enter. As Henri Nouwen has written of icons, “They are created for the sole purpose of offering access, through the gate of the visible, to the mystery of the invisible.”3