Christ Pantokrator In The Byzantine Art Of Italy

[ Published in Phronema 34:1 (2019) 55-84 ]

Christ Pantokrator in the Byzantine Art of Italy Mario Baghos School of Theology, Charles Sturt University Abstract: The image of our Lord Jesus Christ as ‘Pantokrator’ (Παντοκράτωρ, which means ‘ruler of all’), as depicted in the ecclesial space is existentially relevant because it portrays him as both transcendent master of the cosmos and immanent giver of peace; a state that all Christians are called to cultivate, through God’s grace and their own striving, in order to participate in the kingdom of heaven. This typically Byzantine image—while appearing in functioning Catholic churches throughout Italy—is part of the shared tradition of the undivided Church of the first millennium and is more frequently used in the Orthodox Church. This article addresses mosaics of the Pantokrator in the Byzantine art of Italy, specifically in the cathedral of St Mark’s in Venice, and in Sicily’s Cappella Palatina and Monreale cathedral. The article argues that the typically Orthodox image of Christ Pantokrator should inspire all Christians who include it in their artistic repertoires to bring it to the foreground, as the peace bestowed by the Pantokrator is especially needed in our tumultuous modern society. In the Byzantine artistic synthesis, Syriac, Greco-Roman, and Egyptian trends in the representation of our Lord Jesus Christ converged to produce what would become a standard image of him in the Orthodox Church: that of Pantokrator, or ‘ruler of all,’ which can be taken to mean the cosmos and all it contains. The image of the Pantokrator also shares much in common with ancient Roman representations of the Lord in the so-called traditio legis and ‘Christ in majesty’ frescoes and mosaics,1 . . . 55 . . . but with one major qualification: in Byzantium this image appeared in the centre of domed churches, where the circular dome represented the firmament and church buildings the entire This article is based on a paper delivered at the joint Catholic Institute of Sydney (CIS) and Sydney College of Divinity (SCD) conference, ‘The Impact of Jesus of Nazareth: Historical, Theological and Pastoral Perspectives,’ held at CIS on 28-29 September 2017. All photos/images included in this article, with the exception of numbers 1, 2, and 5, were taken by me. 1 The traditio legis and ‘Christ in majesty’ images could either be combined or separate. Basically, they both depict Christ in an exalted position, sometimes hovering in the air or seated on a throne/globe or on the Noachian rainbow (Genesis 9:12-16). In the former, however, he passes on a scroll to St Peter indicating his transmission of ecclesiastical authority. This image borrows from the motif of the Roman emperor as lawgiver, but, as aptly demonstrated by Lee M. Jefferson, is not to be taken as an imperialisation of Christian belief. Rather, it is an attempt by the Church to fill in a popular image with Christian content in order to demonstrate Christ’s lordship over the Church that is transmitted to the apostles and their successors. For more see Lee M. Jefferson, ‘Revisiting the Emperor Mystique: The Traditio Legis as an Anti-Imperial Image’ in The Art of Empire: Christian Art in its Imperial Context, ed. Lee M. Jefferson and Robin M. Jensen (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2015) 49-86.

cosmos.2 If the dome was an imago mundi, an image of the world, then the presence of Christ in the dome’s apex denoted his mastery over the cosmos.3 Christ Pantokrator so profoundly emphasised the Lord’s mastery over the universe within the ecclesial space—which was considered a cosmos in miniature—that it would appear throughout Orthodox churches in Byzantium, the most exquisite examples being in the capital city of Constantinople. Sadly, owing to the Ottoman conquest of Constantinople—now Istanbul—there are very few mosaics of the Pantokrator within this cityscape dating from the Byzantine period.4 Although the Pantokrator can of course be found in other areas of the world inspired by the Byzantine aesthetic, including but not restricted to Greece, Bulgaria, Serbia, Romania, Russia, and even in the West, this paper addresses the Byzantine inspired images of the Pantokrator that appear in Italy, insofar as they were created by craftsmen schooled in Byzantine techniques and are contemporaneous to the Byzantine context.5 . . . 56 . . . As such, this article addresses the representations of Christ Pantokrator in Venice, Palermo and Monreale (the latter two both in Sicily) in order to shed light on the popularity of this image in territories influenced by Byzantium. This article also highlights this image as a corrective to representations of Christ that became popular in the West from about the year 1000, namely “of the defeated, blood-soaked Jesus,” which, I have argued elsewhere, is the result of a growing anthropocentrism that would become exemplified in the Renaissance.6 The assessment of Pantokrator imagery in Italy demonstrates that this image is part of the West’s cultural and religious inheritance also, since, before the Great Schism in 1054, Orthodoxy and Catholicism were one Church and—at least until the eleventh century—parts of Italy were under the aegis of the Byzantine Empire (where, I have stated, this image was prominent). The presence of this image in the West also indicates another motive in writing this article: that images are evocative of the realities they point to is something that can be taken for granted in traditional societies, and the Orthodox Church is by-and-large traditional. The Protestant Reformation in Western Europe brought about the destruction and removal of Christian images from the public space, but since human beings ‘cosmicise’ space—and this cosmicisation involves representing their worldview—then the vacuum led to the emergence of a panoply of images, which, these days, populate all cities and towns and usually exacerbate the passions in order to sell products.7 To quote the great historian of cities, Lewis 2

Mario Baghos, ‘Religious Symbolism and Well-being in Christian Constantinople and the Crisis of the Modern City’ in Doru Costache, Darren Cronshaw, and Jim Harrison (eds), Well-being, Personal Wholeness and the Social Fabric (Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2017) 343. 3 Ibid. 344. 4 There do exist, however, well known images of the Pantokrator in the southern gallery of Hagia Sophia (Holy Wisdom), the church of the Holy Saviour in Chora (Kariye Müzesi), and the Pammakaristos parekklesion (Fethiye Müzesi). 5 I have visited Constantinople and the Byzantine-inspired churches in Italy at various times, and thus part of my motivation in writing this piece has been to address images that I have personally seen. 6 Mario Baghos, ‘Apocalypticism, the Year 1000, and the Medieval Roots of the Ecological Crisis’ Literature and Aesthetics 26 (2016) 83-102, esp. 98-99. 7 Baghos, ‘Religious Symbolism and Well-being in Christian Constantinople and the Crisis of the Modern City’ 324-25, 353.

Mumford: “in our time the ultimate fate of the commercial city is to become a backdrop for advertising.”8 That this explosion of imagery at the service of market forces—appearing on billboards, posters, bus stops, service stations, etc.—compounded . . . 57 . . . with the hustle and bustle of modern life, has led to an adverse impact on mental health has been aptly demonstrated by neuroscientists.9 Conversely, cities in Byzantium were filled with images of Christ and his saints giving the blessing of peace (with the saints often holding their emblems). For Orthodox Christians, the icons representing Christ and the saints participate, through the grace of God, in their archetypes, so that veneration given to the image is truly transferred to the person that image depicts.10 The proliferation of such images in Byzantium, especially in the empire’s final centuries, points to a preoccupation of the Byzantines with spiritual matters: they sought peace, true peace that can only be given by Christ and his saints (the latter by virtue of their participation in him), and thus they surrounded themselves with images that reminded them of—and, since the icon participates in its archetype—bestowed peace.11 It is no coincidence that hesychasm, or the practice of ‘stillness’ which is associated with peace and characterised by the repetition of the Jesus Prayer—“Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner”—as well as breathing exercises and bodily postures to ‘ready’ one for the grace of God that is bestowed upon believers by God’s initiative,12 proliferated at a time when the Byzantines experienced an . . . 58 . . .

8

Lewis Mumford, The City in History: Its Origins, its Transformations, and its Prospects (London: Secker & Warburg, 1961) 445. 9 Baghos, ‘Religious Symbolism and Well-being in Christian Constantinople and the Crisis of the Modern City’ 334-36. 10 See the inspired words of St John of Damascus, defender of the holy icons: “I venerate the image of Christ, as God incarnate; of the mistress of all, the Mother of God, as the mother of the Son of God; of the saints, as the friends of God, who, struggling against sin to the point of blood, have both imitated Christ by shedding their blood for him, who shed his own blood for them, and lived a life following his footsteps…And I do these things out of respect and veneration. ‘For the honor given to the image passes to the archetype,’ says the divine Basil.” St John of Damascus, Treatise 1.21 in Three Treatises on the Divine Images, trans. Andrew Louth (Crestwood, NY: St Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 2003) 34-35. 11 That the reception of peace is part of the Christian experience is indicated by Christ himself: “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid” (John 14:27). 12 Hesychasm is addressed at length in the Philokalia, the compilation of mostly monastic texts that reflects the Orthodox Church’s mystical tradition. In the modern translation into English of the Greek Philokalia, the editors importantly stress “that hesychasm is not something that has developed independently of or alongside the sacramental and liturgical life of the Church. It is part and parcel of it. It too is an ecclesial tradition. To attempt to practise it, therefore, apart from active participation in this sacramental and liturgical life is to cut it off from its living roots. It is also to abuse the intention of its exponents and teachers and so act with a presumption that may well have consequences of a disastrous kind, mental and physical.” G. E. H. Palmer, Philip Sherrard, Kallistos Ware (eds and trans.), ‘Introduction’ in The Philokalia: The Complete Text Compiled by St Nikodimos of the Holy Mountain and St Makarios of Corinth, vol. 1 (New York: Faber and Faber, 1983) 15.

artistic Renaissance. The icons, whether portable, or in fresco or mosaic form, represented the Byzantines’ aspiration to become like the saints by the grace of Christ, and helped them along the way to the peace that only Christ can give. The Pantokrator, the standard image of Christ as master of the universe—and thus the provident God—who is transcendent insofar as he is depicted in the dome above us all, and yet immanent since he is the Son of God who assumed humanity (in other words, became one of us apart from sin), is a necessary corrective to images of Christ that depict him defeated on the cross;13 especially since this world is anyway harassed and harried by diverse and unsettling representations. That the Byzantine-inspired Pantokrator, a staple image in Orthodox countries, can be found in the West, is important. It can still be utilised to remind us who live in the West that our Lord Jesus is the ultimate giver of peace in the world; in fact, it can even bestow peace, according to God’s will and purpose, to the willing recipient. . . . 59 . . . Critical Challenge As affirmed already, these days, many representations of Christ abound, and although the Orthodox world has tenaciously preserved the image of the Pantokrator or ‘ruler of all,’ the rest of the Christian world has not. Of course, the various Christian traditions are free to represent Christ however they wish; the issue is that some representations are more consistent with the Church’s salvific experience of Christ through the centuries—manifested in doctrinal formulations of ecumenical councils, such as Ephesus in 431 and Chalcedon in 451, and the continuing encounters between Christ and the saints14—and others are not. The definition of faith espoused by the council of Chalcedon, that “the one and the same Christ, Son, Lord, only-begotten [is] acknowledged in two natures which undergo no confusion, no change, no division, no separation (ἐν δύο φύσεσιν ἀσυγχύτως, ἀτρέπτως, ἀδιαιρέτως, ἀχωρίστως γνωριζόμενον),”15 is especially manifested in early images of the Pantokrator, such as the following encaustic painting from the monastery of St Catherine’s in Mount Sinai, where Christ is depicted in a way that expresses the distinction between his two natures—divine and human—in the unity of his person as the one and only Son of God.

13

I am not downplaying the significance of the cross here, but an overemphasis on it is problematic since it can give the false impression that the story ended there, in defeat, as believed by secular persons and even persons from other faiths. But we believe that Christ rose from the dead, and in doing so defeated death; and though ascended bodily to the Father’s right hand, he is everywhere present in spirit since he is the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last of all things (Rev 1:8,17, 22:13). There is therefore good reason for the Orthodox emphasis on the resurrection, which ties into the representation of the Lord as Pantokrator since even now he governs the universe and watches over us. 14 That Christ continues to visit the saints is confirmed by hagiographical testimonies, where they do not experience an abstract divinity or a mere man, but, by grace, they see the Godman, Jesus Christ himself. This can be discerned in the following texts which, since they are from different epochs and contexts, show the diachronic consistency of this experience: Tim Vivian, trans. ‘Coptic Palladiana III: The Life of Macarius of Egypt’ Coptic Church Review: A Quarterly Review of Contemporary Patristic Studies 21:3 (2000), 82-109, esp. 106. Irina Gorainov, The Message of Saint Seraphim [of Sarov]: “The Aim of Christian Life is Acquisition of the Holy Spirit” (Oxford: Fairacres Publication, 1973) 3. 15 Norman P. Tanner, ed., Decrees of the Ecumenical Councils (Washington DC: Georgetown University Press, 1989) 86.

. . . 60 . . .

Figure 116 . . . 61 . . . The problem with images of Christ that are not consistent with such representations is that they can emphasise Christ’s humanity at the expense of his divinity, so that he is 16

Christ the Pantokrator in the portable icon from St Catherine’s monastery, Mt Sinai. Notice that the right and left sides of his face indicate his divinity and humanity respectively. Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Jesus_Sinai_Icon.jpg

represented as an emaciated corpse on the cross or in the tomb, giving no inkling of his resurrection and triumph over death that he inaugurated in behalf of the world.

Figure 217 . . . 62 . . . Other representations overemphasise his divinity, so that the Lord is depicted as something of an abstraction rather than the Godman who reigns at the Father’s right hand. This is to say nothing of representations of Christ outside the Church—artistic and scholarly—which oscillate between the dichotomy of the ‘Jesus of History’ and the ‘Christ of Faith’18 that radically separates a historical Jesus from any faith based perspectives towards him19—as though his identity as a man could ever be separated from his divine origins as the 17

Detail of a defeated Christ from the Isenheim Altarpiece by Matthias Grünewald, 1506-1515. Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Christ_bifrons_Issenheim.jpg 18 For an example of the academic pursuit of the ‘historical Jesus’ as opposed to the ‘Christ of faith,’ see John Dominic Crossan’s Jesus: A Revolutionary Biography (New York: HarperOne, 1995). 19 The scholarly attempt—reflected, by and large, in the ‘Jesus Seminar’ (with which Crossan, referenced above, was associated)—to demonstrate the historical existence of ‘Jesus the man’ apart from any faith-based approaches to him as the Son of God looks like cultural Nestorianism (insofar as Nestorius radically demarcated between the man Jesus who was later adopted by the Son of God). Nestorius’ dissociative Christology was of course denounced by the third ecumenical council, held in Ephesus in 431, because it posited two (or even three) active subjects in Christ. For more see John A. McGuckin, St Cyril of Alexandria, the Christological

Son of God who took on human flesh while remaining forever divine; the Godman. And there are worse representations of him out there, ranging from Jesus the zealot and violent revolutionary against the Romans,20 to representations that best remain unuttered. . . . 63 . . . I am not asserting that the Pantokrator is the only genuine representation of Christ, or that other representations are not legitimate. But since it is axiomatic for the Orthodox Church’s experience that if Christ were not true and eternal God then he could not liberate us from the end of all mortal beings, that is, death, and likewise that if he did not become one of us we would not be able to participate in his defeat of death through his resurrection, then for a representation of Christ to be existentially significant it should illustrate his Godmanhood. In a world that all too often forgets Christ, or construes him in inappropriate ways, the Orthodox Church, but also other traditional Christians (such as Catholics, Copts, and High church Protestants), have within their artistic repertoires the image of Christ as the master of the cosmos that can be used to indicate not only his exalted Lordship and humble condescension in our behalf, but also reminds us—in our tumultuous world—that he is the only bestower of peace in our lives. But despite its use by other Christians, it is a truism that the Pantokrator is used most frequently in the Orthodox Church: it is characteristic of Orthodox churches not only in Byzantium, but throughout the various Orthodox lands today. In what ensues, I address the symbolic significance of the appearance of the Pantokrator in circular domes, first in relation to its paradigmatic importance in Byzantium and the Orthodox Church generally—contextualising it within medieval Constantinople, the capital of Byzantium which established the standard for most Orthodox art—before assessing its impact on its Western neighbours, principally the Venetians and the Normans in Sicily. The article then assesses this image as it appears in the basilica of St Mark’s in Venice, and in Sicily’s Cappella Palatina and Monreale cathedral, three functioning Catholic churches influenced by Byzantine aesthetics and style. It concludes with reflections on how this important image appearing in Catholic churches, serves as a reminder of a common Orthodox and Catholic tradition that, in the latter, can be retrieved as a corrective to inappropriate images of Christ, and in . . . 64 . . . Controversy: Its History, Theology, and Texts (Leiden, New York, Köln: Brill, 1994) 31-32. In comparing Nestorius’ Christological formulations to those scholars—usually influenced by the historical-critical method— that try to demonstrate the historical existence of Jesus before addressing him as the Son of God, it is clear that, like him, they are unable to embrace in faith the Christian testimony that the pre-existent Son of God assumed humanity as Christ Jesus while remaining fully God. For the Church, there is one Christ, who of course existed historically, but who both pre-existed (Colossians 1:17) his historical incarnation as the eternal Son of the Father, and who roughly two-thousand years ago assumed human nature as Christ Jesus (while remaining fully God), and who now—resurrected and ascended (Acts 7:56)—sits at the right hand of the Father and reigns together with him and the Holy Spirit. We do not need to ‘prove’ his existence because we know that he exists by faith. Moreover, the testimonies of the saints confirm that he really is ever-present within the Church, which is his mystical body (1 Corinthians 12:27, Ephesians 3:6, 5:23). 20 A recent ‘biography’ of Christ (Reza Aslan’s Zealot: The Life and Times of Jesus of Nazareth (Crows Nest, NSW: Allen & Unwin, 2013)), based on a biased reading of ancient sources like the Gospels that precludes any references to the Lord’s divinity in them—and a ‘creative’ use of tangential material that has little to do with Christ—is one such example.

the former, can be brought more and more to the foreground,21 to indicate to this world in travail that Christ is the master of the universe, and that he exhorts us all to everlasting peace and joy.22 The Pantokrator as a Byzantine image It was within the context of Byzantium that images of Christ the Pantokrator flourished. The full implications of this image can be best understood in relation to its association with the domes of churches; the dome being a significant feature of the ecclesial space in Byzantium and the Orthodox Church generally. In the ancient world, the symbolism associated with geometric spheres indicated the universe since “the observable cosmos represented itself as inescapably circular—not only the planets themselves…but also their cyclical movements and the recurring cycles of seasons.”23 If we combine the geometric hemisphere with the image of Christ Pantokrator at its centre, what we get is a symbolic affirmation of the fact that Christ is master of the universe. Due to financial and construction constraints, the image of Christ Pantokrator would only appear in the dome of the cathedral church of Hagia Sophia or Holy Wisdom in Constantinople in the fourteenth century: but generally it featured on portable icons by the end of late antiquity, and by the Middle Ages, it would recur in domes, apses, and wall panels throughout Christendom in East and West; especially in Byzantine churches and churches influenced by the Byzantine style.24 . . . 65 . . .

21

In the sense of being made more public, since it already appears in most Orthodox churches and in the public space in Orthodox countries. 22 See Christ’s words in John 15:11: “These things I have spoken to you so that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be made full.” 23 Jack Tresidder, ed. The Complete Dictionary of Symbols: In Myth, Art and Literature (London: Duncan Baird Publishers, 2004) 108. 24 For a famous example in the West: Charlemagne’s palatine chapel (later, cathedral) in Aachen was modeled on Byzantine designs. Gunter Bandmann, Early Medieval Architecture as Bearer of Meaning, trans. Kendall Wallis (New York and Chichester: Columbia University Press, 2005) 200. Moreover, in Western medieval churches ‘Christ in majesty’ was frequently depicted on the tympanum above doors, particularly the western central door, and above the eastern chancel arch.

Figure 325 Thus, in many churches throughout Christendom, the Christian conception of the whole universe is represented, with Christ as its master. When Byzantine rulers, along with, for example, their Frankish and Norman counterparts, depicted the Pantokrator in their cathedrals and palaces, they may have been attempting to bolster their claim to being the Lord’s representatives on earth; nevertheless, even in these cases the Lord took precedence.26 Unfortunately, mosaics and frescoes of the Pantokrator specifically in domes (there are a few more in wall panels, apses, etc.) are difficult to find in Constantinople itself, owing to the Ottoman conquest of the city in 1453 and the destruction of Orthodox churches, or their conversion into mosques. . . . 66 . . . In Constantinople, the mosaic of Christ on the underside of the dome of Hagia Sophia was covered up with Islamic calligraphy, and the few examples that do survive, such as a mosaic of Christ inspiring the prophets in the church of the Theotokos Pammakaristos or the “All-blessed God-bearer,” as well as a similar mosaic on the underside of a dome in the church of the Holy Saviour, Chora, are sparse examples that do not bring to bear the full import of this image, which is extant in numerous churches in Italy, the north of which was under Byzantine control until AD 751.

25

The church of Holy Wisdom (Hagia Sophia), now a museum. This is evidenced by the fact that many emperors depicted themselves as being crowned by and in obeisance to Christ. See, for instance, the mosaic above the imperial doorway in Holy Wisdom, where the emperor Leo VI the Wise (r. 886-912) is depicted in obeisance to the enthroned Christ, and Christ crowning the twelfth century Norman king Roger II of Sicily in a panel mosaic in the Martorana church in Palermo. John Beckwith, Early Christian and Byzantine Art (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1979) 191 and 258 respectively. 26

Figure 427 . . . 67 . . .

Figure 528 27

Christ Pantokrator surrounded by Old Testament prophets in the Pammakaristos parekklesion. Christ Pantokrator on the underside of a dome in the church of the Holy Saviour, Chora. Photo by Nicholas Sen, 2012. 28

In the tenth century, the Byzantines reconquered part of southern Italy, to the north of Sicily, establishing a catepanate centred in Bari that was dissolved by the invading Normans in 1071. The Normans established their capital in Palermo, and erected—not only in this city, but throughout Sicily—churches that were decorated by Byzantine artisans and included mosaics of the Pantokrator; the Cappella Palatina in Palermo29 and the cathedrals at Monreale30 and Cefalù31 attest to this. A strikingly similar parallel can be found in St Mark’s basilica in Venice. . . . 68 . . .

Figure 632

29

Beckwith, Early Christian and Byzantine Art 260. Ibid. 260. 31 Ibid. 259. 32 Basilica San Marco, Venice. 30

Figure 733 . . . 69 . . . The Venetians, who were once under the aegis of Byzantium but by the turn of the first millennium had become a rival maritime power, employed Byzantine artisans to decorate St Mark’s insofar as it was based on the church of the Holy Apostles in Constantinople. The present basilica, which is in cruciform design and topped by five principal domes, is the result of a reconstruction that took place in the eleventh century, during which it was decorated internally by Byzantine mosaicists or local artisans trained in Byzantine techniques and iconography. Like the Normans, the Venetians eventually attacked the Byzantines, looting and pillaging Constantinople during the fourth crusade in 1204 and perhaps cementing the schism between the Eastern and Western churches that we saw above is dated to 1054. The point of this article is not to evoke old hostilities, but to generate dialogue in relation to the image of the Pantokrator. It is striking that in the midst of political envy and strife, the image of Christ Pantokrator—a typically Byzantine image—was employed by the Venetians and the Normans, the way that it had been employed earlier by Frankish kings like Charlemagne, to indicate Christ’s mastery over the whole world (for despite the Lord’s special relationship with his Church and the saints, his mastery extends over all people). No doubt part of the reason the Pantokrator was used by the Venetians and Normans was in order to bolster the claims to sovereignty of the Venetian doges and the Norman kings. Once again, there is no escaping the fact that the Lord was depicted as taking precedence over these rulers: one has to just observe the size and position of Christ in relation to their thrones, for instance.34 33 The domes of the basilica San Marco; view from the campanile (belltower). 34

This is in contrast to the humanist doges of Venice who in the Renaissance depicted themselves in the centre of portraits with Christ in miniature and off-centre.

. . . 70 . . .

Figure 835 Moreover, the fact that the images of the Pantokrator remain in these churches to be observed by worshippers and tourists alike indicates that the image can still be used in these 35

This mosaic of Christ Pantokrator enthroned, giving the blessing of peace and flanked by saints Peter and Paul—along with the archangels Michael and Gabriel—appears on the wall opposite the altar in the Cappella Palatina, Palermo. Immediately beneath it is the throne of the ruler of Sicily (in fact, in this photo one can see its triangular top).

contexts to express the paradox of Christ’s Lordship over the universe and all it contains, and his humility as the God who became one of us and bestows upon us the blessing of peace. This information needs to be communicated to the congregants and passers-by, not just in Italy, but the world over. It is, I believe, incumbent upon Christians to showcase Christ as merciful ruler of a world that, because it ignores or denies him, remains in disarray. I turn now to . . . 71 . . . St Mark’s basilica in Venice, and to the Cappella Palatina and cathedral of Monreale in Sicily, all of which utilise the conventionally Byzantine or Orthodox image of Christ Pantokrator, to demonstrate this point. The Pantokrator in Italy The decline of Byzantine administrative control in northern Italy from the eighth century onwards—marked especially by the capture of the duchy of Ravenna by the Lombards— created the space for the ascendancy and independence of the Venetian lagoon, known as the Veneto, with Venice at the forefront. Nevertheless, the Veneto continued to be influenced by Byzantine aesthetics in terms of art and architecture, and nowhere is this best reflected than in St Mark’s basilica in Venice itself.36 Built in the mid-eleventh century, St Mark’s was intended as the chapel of the doge of Venice and was, as we have seen, modeled on the church of the Holy Apostles in Constantinople.37 The interior of the whole structure, its “vaults, domes, and upper walls…depicted eastern saints; biblical narratives, such as the lives of Jesus and the Virgin; the apostolic message; and the life—and the theft of the relics—of Saint Mark.”38 . . . 72 . . .

36

Otto Demus pertinently demonstrated that St Mark’s represents a confluence of different styles, including Romanesque. Otto Demus, Byzantine Mosaic Decoration: Aspects of Monumental Art in Byzantium (Boston: Boston Book & Art Shop, 1964) 69. Thomas E. A. Dale has argued that the Venetian appropriation of Byzantine aesthetics went hand-in-hand with their use of Saracenic arches in order to demonstrate their superiority to the Byzantine and Islamic worlds. Thomas E. A. Dale, ‘Cultural Hybridity in Medieval Venice: Reinventing the East at San Marco after the Fourth Crusade’ in San Marco, Byzantium, and the Myths of Venice, ed. Henry Maguire and Robert S. Nelson (Washington DC: Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection, 2010) 151-92, esp. 190. Despite the use of Byzantine motifs alongside those from other cultures—and the possible political reasons for doing so—this does not detract from the fact that the Pantokrator is a conventionally Byzantine image. For more on the historical, architectural and artistic developments in St Mark’s, see Otto Demus, The Mosaic Decoration of San Marco, Venice (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1988). 37 This church, initially built by Constantine the Great, was rebuilt as a cruciform basilica by the Byzantine emperor Justinian in the sixth century, but was destroyed by the Ottomans in 1461, several years after their conquest of Constantinople in 1453. 38 Joanne M. Ferraro, Venice, History of the Floating City (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012) 12.

Figure 939

Figure 1040 . . . 73 . . . Despite this rich array of imagery, we will concern ourselves with the undersides of 39 40

Christ Pantokrator ascending to heaven in the central dome of St Mark’s basilica. Close up of previous image: Christ ascending into heaven.

two of the church’s five principal domes. Apart from a late mosaic of the Pantokrator (d. 1506) adorning the eastern apse,41 the main image of the Pantokrator appears in a depiction of the ascension in the central dome marking the intersection of the church’s cruciform design. In this image, a bearded Christ is depicted in a golden tunic and seated upon a golden rainbow, which symbolises the Noachian rainbow indicating peace. His right hand is extended in the blessing of peace and his left hand holds a scroll. The Lord is set within a cosmic mandorla, as indicated by the golden stars surrounding him, and the coloured layers that unfold in gradations, from darker shades closer to the Lord’s body to the white outer ring encompassing both him and the stars. The outer ring of the mandorla is carried by four angels who not only carry the ascending Christ to heaven but evoke the four angels at the four corners of the world in the book of Revelation (7:1). Numerologically, the fact that there are four angels symbolises stability or order; the stability of the cosmos.42 Around the angels is a Latin elaboration of the message delivered by two angels to the apostles during Christ’s ascent into heaven as described in Acts 1:11. Translated into English, it reads: Tell us what you are standing and looking at in Heaven. This Son of God, Christ, O citizens of Galilee, being taken from you, goes; and so He will come as the judge of the world, with right judgment to give all their due.43 These two angels appear below, flanking the Mother of God on either . . . 74 . . . side. They are surrounded by the apostles between whom are interspersed paradisal trees. Finally, beneath these figures are represented various female saints and martyrs. This image of the ascension utilises various symbols in order to convey Christ’s mastery over the cosmos. His golden tunic evokes the ancient appellation—used by Christians to divest the sun god, Sol Invictus, of his power—of Christ as “the Sun of Righteousness.”44 And this image, which applies solar imagery to indicate the impact Christ’s 41

This is a not very successful replica of the original which was damaged by fire. For the ancients, the number four was considered “wholly even” and thus represented “equality and stability.” Nigel Hiscock, The Symbol at Your Door: Number and Geometry in Religious Architecture of the Greek and Latin Middle Ages (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2007) 17. The symbolic import of the number four has been utilised in patristic tradition: St Irenaeus of Lyons asserted that the four canonical Gospels mirror the stability of the cosmos comprised of “four zones of the world.” Irenaeus of Lyons, Against Heresies 3.11 in Alexander Roberts and James Donaldson (trans), The Apostolic Fathers, Justin Martyr, Irenaeus (Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co., 2004) 428. 43 Translated by me. 44 This needs some background explanation. Historically, the Church emerged in a political environment where the pagan Roman emperor took the sun god as his personal protector. Thus, the Church, for apologetic reasons—to both communicate the Gospel to its immediate framework and to demonstrate the superiority of Christ to the Roman emperors and their ‘god’—took the chief emblem of Sol, the halo, and transferred it to Christ to signify his holiness; and thus in the earliest Christian frescos one discerns the appropriation of the halo in the depiction of Christ and later the saints. This is also consistent with the Church’s belief that the saints’ experience of God’s grace leaves a radiant ‘imprint,’ like in Exodus 34:29 when, after Moses descended from Sinai after conversing with the Lord, “his face was radiant” (the same is said about many other saints). So, it is more likely that the Church appropriated the artistic form of the halo to communicate the pre-existing experience of its saints. In any case, at the same time, the Church applied the Old Testament epithet “sun of righteousness” to the Lord as it displaced the pagan feast of Sol Invictus with the feast of the Nativity on 42

dawning had upon the world, is apt for a depiction of the ascension where Christ is rising, like the sun, through the cosmos that he created and has mastery over. The destination to where Christ ascends, heaven, which can alternately be described as God’s kingdom or paradise—these are mutually inclusive—is represented by the Mother of God and the apostles who were present at the ascension and now intercede to Christ the . . . 75 . . . master of the world to have mercy upon it. Christ gives both them, and us, the blessing of peace, which indicates the inner state that Christians need to cultivate, with God’s help, in order to further receive the Lord’s salvific grace. Thus, Christ embraces both the cosmos and his saints, who intercede for us and whom we are called to imitate; the mystery of our transformation in him being symbolised by the shaded area of the mandorla, which is close to the body of the Lord. But the inscription around the mandorla and the angels lifting Christ also indicates that the Son of God will “come as the judge of the world, with right judgment to give all their due.”

Figure 1145 In other words, there is an eschatological dimension to the images of Christ on the underside of the principal domes in St Mark’s, including the one under the eastern dome December 25. Rather than being literally equated with the sun god, Christ was considered by way of metaphor as Christos Helios, ‘Christ the Sun,’ and still features as such in Orthodox iconography where he is depicted as a child seated within a medallion representing the womb of his holy Mother, or on the underside of church domes as the adult Pantokrator: where the image of Christ takes the place of the sun—usually indicated by his wearing a golden tunic—at the centre of the circular dome that symbolises the cosmos. For more information, see Guy Freeland, ‘Why Portray Christ as the Sun God?’ in Windows to Orthodoxy (Sydney: St Andrew’s Orthodox Press, 2013) 165-71, esp. 168-69. 45 The eschatological Christ Emmanuel depicted on the underside of the eastern dome of St Mark’s basilica.

where a beardless Jesus indicating Christ Emmanuel features prominently.46 This time the Lord is depicted at the . . . 76 . . . centre of a blue, starry circle designating the cosmos. Since this image of Christ is surrounded by the Old Testament prophets, it can be considered a prophecy about Christ’s first coming. Indeed, one of the Lord’s epithets that he used concerning himself is ‘Son of Man’ (cf. Matthew 25:31, Luke 17:22, 24, 26, 30, Mark 2:10), who is prophesied in the book of the Old Testament prophet Daniel (7:13-14) and intertestamental literature.47 That this image can also be interpreted as pointing to the Lord’s second coming is alluded to by the rainbow surrounding the image of the cosmos. This evokes Revelation chapters 4 and 5, where the recipient of the vision sees ‘someone’ seated on a throne in heaven holding a scroll (5:1)— which is Christ, since he is holding a scroll in this image—with the throne being encircled by “a rainbow that shone like an emerald” (4:3). Christ’s mastery over the cosmos thus extends over all its stages: its beginning, marked by the fact that he created the world together with his Father and the Holy Spirit; its middle, figuratively meaning his first coming, and its end, when he will return as judge. . . . 77 . . .

46

For a more detailed analysis of the east dome, see Ernest J. Hawkins and Liz James, ‘The East Dome of San Marco, Venice: A Reconsideration’ Dumbarton Oaks Papers 48 (1994) 229-42. 47 Daniel has a vision of the Ancient of Days, interpreted by Christians as God the Father, who gives the Son of Man “dominion and glory and a kingdom, that all peoples, nations, and languages should serve him” (Dan 7:1314). Intertestamental literature includes late apocalyptic texts, such as the Qumran literature, 2 Baruch, 4 Ezra, Jubilees, and 1 and 2 Enoch, as well as an assortment of Christian apocrypha.

Figure 1248 48

The eastern apse of the Cappella Palatina depicts Christ Pantokrator giving the blessing of peace.

. . . 78 . . . Moving from Venice to Sicily, we discern similar imagery in the Cappella Palatina or Palace Chapel in Palermo, built during the reign of Roger II in the mid-1100s. This church’s mosaic decorations are emphatically Byzantine, with the image of the Pantokrator adorning the upper registers of the walls of the nave, the apse in the sanctuary and the church’s main dome.

Figure 1349 In the former, the various stages of Genesis 1-3 are depicted, showing Christ Pantokrator as creator of the world and Adam and . . . 79 . . . Eve.50 His mastery over all things is therefore effectively denoted by his creation of the cosmos, motifs that likewise adorn the walls of the cathedral of Monreale—completed during the reign of William II in the late 1100s and dedicated to the Nativity of the Virgin Mary— where, in an even grander style, Christ is depicted undertaking the creation of the world, 49

In the upper registers of the nave of Cappella Palatina: Christ Pantokrator creates the cosmos. These motifs can also be found in mosaics in St Mark’s, Venice. See Penny Howell Jolly, Made in God’s Image? Eve and Adam in the Genesis Mosaics at San Marco, Venice (Berkeley-Los Angeles-London: University of California Press, 1997). 50

Adam and Eve, and inspiring the Old Testament patriarchs like Abraham.

Figure 1451 In fact, the mosaics throughout the church highlight that Christ is the locus of the experience of the saints in both the Old and New Testaments. The activity of Christ before his incarnation as Pantokrator, . . . 80 . . . and not as a disincarnate Son/Logos of God, is testified in the apologetic literature, which, to paraphrase Eusebius of Caesarea, stipulates that the Old Testament figures from Abraham, through to the Patriarchs and Moses—all of these experienced the pre-existent Logos of God as a man.52 In any case, the apses in both the Cappella Palatina and Monreale cathedral clearly display Christ as Pantokrator.

51

In Monreale, Christ Pantokrator creates the cosmos. Eusebius, The History of the Church from Christ to Constantine 1.2, trans. G. A. Williams (London: Penguin Books, 1989) 4-5. 52

Figure 1553 In Monreale, Christ is named as Pantokrator in Greek (see figure 15), with the Lord draped in the traditionally Byzantine blue (outer) and red (inner) garments, the former indicating his divine person that has assumed humanity symbolised by the colour red.54 In the Cappella Palatina (see figure 12), the Lord wears gold and blue, and while the epithet ‘Pantokrator’ is not inscribed there, in both apses the Lord gives the blessing of peace and holds a Gospel book with the same verse from the Gospel . . . 81 . . . of John transcribed in both Latin and Greek: “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life” (Jn 8:12).



Christ Pantokrator in Monreale’s eastern apse. C. A. Tsakiridou, Icons in Time, Persons in Eternity: Orthodox Theology and the Aesthetics of the Christian Image (Surrey, ENG: Ashgate, 2013) 202, 235, 273. 53 54

Figure 1655 Whereas the image of Christ in the apse of the Cappella Palatina is not inscribed as Pantokrator, the image of Christ on the underside of the dome in the sanctuary is circled by a verse in Greek from Isaiah 66:1, quoted by St Stephen is Acts 7:49, where the Lord says: “Heaven is my throne and earth is my footstool.” The verse in Isaiah prefaces this quote with “Says the Lord,” to which the mosaicists of Cappella Palatina add. . . 82 . . . ed: “Says the Lord Pantokrator,” or master of the cosmos, as reflected in the circular design of the dome, which depicts the Lord holding a closed Gospel book, giving the blessing of peace, and surrounded by archangels. Conclusion At all times, the world—as it stands apart from the sanctifying presence of the Church, the body of Christ—is in travail. Advances in technology and the influx of people into major cities have made life incredibly stressful. Bereft of peace, people suffer depression or worse psychological conditions. We need to be reminded, as often as possible, that peace is 55

Christ the Pantokrator surrounded by the archangels in the dome of Cappella Palatina.

attainable, but not on our own terms, where peace is often interpreted merely as a cessation of external conflict. True and lasting peace can only be communicated to us internally, by the Prince of Peace, our Lord Jesus Christ. In order to get there, we need to participate in his life, and this participation can only be undertaken within his sacred body, the Church, where all the means to bring us peace are deployed. It is not for no reason that in Orthodox churches the celebrant constantly exhorts the congregation to peace, and, while doing so, imitates the gesture of peace that is given by Christ in the icon of the Pantokrator that appears to the celebrant’s left (our right) in the iconostasis or icon screen; he even dismisses the congregation with the words “let us go forth in peace,” which is an exhortation to maintain the existential condition of peace, an outcome of participating in the Church’s sacred space, to the outside world.56 The Pantokrator who appears in most Orthodox churches in both traditionally Orthodox countries and in Western countries—as well as appearing in those Catholic churches in Italy utilising Byzantine images addressed in this paper—is one of the most powerful images of Christ as bringer of peace. Without taking away from the fact that our Lord truly died in our behalf, the Pantokrator is far more powerful and consistent with the Church’s experience of him than the image of the brutally defeated Christ on the cross, which is how most people come to know . . . 83 . . . him through art (or other worse reductionisms).57 Our Lord has defeated death through his resurrection, and the Pantokrator reminds us that, as the God who rules the cosmos, only he can impart to us lasting peace. Moreover, the appearance of the Pantokrator in the centre of domed churches, where he is seen precisely as ‘central’ by us as we stand below and are ensconced by these domes, symbolically indicates that he should take the central place in our lives. Given the Lordship of Christ and his mercy expressed in the Pantokrator’s mastery of all things and his bestowal of peace, then this image can be considered the artistic corollary to what in the Orthodox tradition is known as the Jesus Prayer, where one repeatedly prays “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.” Thus, whether in the centre of domed churches, or in the centre of our minds and hearts when in a prayerful attitude, it is Christ who should be constantly invoked as the giver of peace to a world, and society, in turmoil. . . . 84 . . .

56

The Divine Liturgy of our Father among the Saints John Chrysostom (Sydney: St Andrew’s Orthodox Press, 2005) 105. 57 It is important to note that the Orthodox Church does not spurn the image of the crucifixion; rather, when depicting Christ crucified, it shows him as the serene Lord of glory.