Homily 17: Saint Photios the Great

Homily 17: Of the Same Most-Blessed Photius, Patriarch ofConstantinople, Homily Delivered from the Ambo of the Great Church, on Holy Saturday, in the Presence of the Christ-Loving Emperors, when the Form of the Theotokos had been Depicted and Uncovered. Translated by Cyril Mango. In The Homilies of Photios Patriarch of Constantinople: English Translation, Introduction and Commentary. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1958.

…But perhaps we have been drawn into too lengthy a digression, unwilling as we were to pass over in silence a matter cognate to the one before us, and through which the light of truth shines no less brightly. But the cause of the celebration, whereby today’s feast is conspicuously adorned, is, as we have already said, the following: splendid piety erecting trophies against belief hostile to Christ; impiety lying low, stripped of her very last hopes; and the ungodly ideas of those half-barbarous and bastard clans which had crept into the Roman government (who were an insult and a disgrace to the emperors) being exposed to everyone as an object of hatred and aversion. Yea, and as for us, beloved pair of pious Emperors, shining forth from the purple, connected with the dearest names of father and son, and not allowing the name to belie the relationship, but striving to set in all other respects also an example of superhuman love, whose preoccupation is Orthodoxy rather than pride in the imperial diadem, - it is in these things that the deed which is before our eyes instigates us to take pride. With such a welcome does the representation of the Virgin’s form cheer us, inviting us to draw not from a bowl of wine, but from a fair spectacle, by which the rational part of our soul, being watered through our bodily eyes, and given eyesight in its growth toward the divine love of Orthodoxy, puts forth in the way of fruit the most exact vision of truth. Thus, even in her images does the Virgin’s grace delight, comfort and strengthen us! A virgin mother carrying in her pure arms, for the common salvation of our kind, the common Creator reclining as an infant – that great and ineffable mystery of the Dispensation! A virgin mother, with a virgin’s and a mother’s gaze, dividing in indivisible form

her temperament between both capacities, yet belittling neither by its incompleteness. With such exactitude has the art of painting, which is a reflection of inspiration from above, set up a lifelike imitation. For, as it were, she fondly turns her eyes on her begotten Child in the affection of her heart yet assumes the expression of a detached and imperturbable mood at the passionless and wondrous nature of her offspring, and composes her gaze accordingly. You might think her not incapable of speaking, even if one were to ask her, “How didst thou give birth and remainest a virgin?” To such an extent have the lips been made flesh by the colours, that they appear merely to be pressed together and stilled as in the mysteries, yet their silence is not at all inert neither is the fairness of her form derivatory, but rather is it the real archetype. Seest thou of what beauty was the face of the Church bereft? Of what splendour was it deprived? Over what graces did gloomy dejection prevail? That was the daring deed of a wretched Jewish hand, lacking in no insolence. This is a most conspicuous token of a heart seized by God and of the Lord’s love, whereby the initiated band of the apostles were led to perfection, through which the martyrs’ winged course sped to the crowns of victory, and the prophets, God’s tongues, with knowledge of future things and truthful foretelling, came unto men bringing undoubting belief. For verily are these things the prizes and gifts of a most sincere and divine love, from which depends likewise the veneration of holy images, just as their destruction comes from an irrepressible and most foul hatred. Those men, after stripping the Church, Christ’s bride, of her own ornaments, and wantonly inflicting bitter wounds on her, wherewith her face was scarred, sought in their insolence to submerge her in deep oblivion, naked as she was, so to speak, and unsightly, and afflicted with those many wounds – herein too emulating Jewish folly. Still bearing on her body the scars of those wounds, in reproof of their Isaurian and godless belief, and wiping them off, and in their stead putting on the splendour of her own glory, she now regains the ancient dignity of her comeliness, and sheds the rude

mockery of those who have insulted her, pitying their truly absurd madness. If one called this day the beginning and day of Orthodoxy (lest I say something excessive), one would not be far wrong. For though the time is short since the pride of the iconoclastic heresy has been reduced to ashes, and true religion has spread its light to the ends of the world, fired like a beacon by imperial and divine command, this too is our ornament; for it is the achievement of the same God-loving reign.

And so, as the eye of the universe, this celebrated and sacred church, looked sad with its visual mysteries scraped off, as it were (for it had not yet received the privilege of pictorial restoration), it shed but faint rays from its face to visitors, and in this respect the countenance of Orthodoxy appeared gloomy. Now, casting off this sadness also, and beautifying herself with all her own conspicuous ornaments, and displaying her rich dowry, gladly and joyously she hearkens to the Bridegroom’s voice, Who cries out saying, “All fair is my companion, and there is no spot in her. Fair is my companion.” For, having mingled the bloom of colours with religious truth, and by means of both having in holy manner fashioned unto herself a holy beauty, and bearing, so to speak, a complete and perfect image of piety, she is seen not only to be fair in beauty surpassing the sons of mean, but elevated to an inexpressible fairness of dignity beyond any comparison beside. All fair is my companion. She has escaped the blows, has been freed of her wounds, has wiped off all blemish, has cast down her detractors into Hell, has raised up those who sang her praises. And there is no spot in her. She has overcome the blemishes wherewith a foul foreign hand had aimed and spotted her whole body. She has wiped off all those stains, and taking up again her former bridal raiment, she has put it on. The daughters saw her, and they will bless her; yea, the queens, and they will praise her. Who is she that looketh forth as the morning, fair as the moon, choice as the sun? This then is the dignity and royal raiment which David was describing from of old, when he sang hymns to the Lord and King of all: “The queen stood by on thy right hand, clothed in vesture wrought with gold, and arrayed in divers colours.” Verily are her “steps beautiful.” Awake, O Sion, as in the early time, as the ancient generation, for up on thy head shall come exultation and praise and joy. “I, even I, am he that comforts thee,” saith the Lord. “Behold, I have painted thy walls on my hands, and thou art continually before me.” This is her joyousness she herself foresaw when she exclaimed prophetically through Isaiah, saying, “Let my soul rejoice in the Lord; for He has clothed me in the robe of salvation, and the garment of joy, and has put a mitre on me as on a bridegroom, and adorned me with ornaments as a bride. And no longer shall I be as a city forsaken, but as one sought out, and as a crown of beauty in the hand of the Lord, and a royal diadem in the hand of

God.”

We too, with gladness and joy in our souls, join the choir of this festival, and sharing today in the celebration of this restoration, we exclaim those prophetic words, saying, “Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Sion; cry aloud, O daughter of Jerusalem. The Lord has taken away thine injuries; He has delivered thee from the hand of thine enemies. Lift up thine eyes round about, and see thy children gathered. For behold, all thy sons have come from far, yea and thy daughters, bearing unto thee not gold and frankincense and stones, all begotten of the earth and by human custom adorning what is precious, but purer than all gold, and more precious than all stones, the ancestral faith unadulterated. Rejoice and delight thyself with all thine heart, for

behold, the Lord is coming, and He shall fix His tabernacle in thy midst.” What could be more agreeable than this day? What could be more explicit than this feast to give expression to gladness and joy? This is another shaft being driven today right through the hear of Death, not as the Saviour is engulfed by the tomb of mortality for the common resurrection of our kind, but as the image of the Mother rises up from the very depths of oblivion, and raises along with herself the likenesses of the saints. Christ came to us in the flesh, and was borne in the arms of His Mother. This is seen and confirmed and proclaimed in pictures, the teaching made manifest by means of personal eyewitness, and impelling the spectators to unhesitating assent. Does a man hate the teaching by means of pictures? Then how could he not have previously rejected and hated the message of the Gospels? Just as speech is transmitted by hearing, so a form through sight is imprinted upon the tablets of the soul, giving to those who apprehension is not soiled by wicked doctrines a representation of knowledge concordant with piety. Martyrs have suffered for their love of God, showing with their blood the ardour of their desire, and their memory is contained in books. These deeds they are also seen performing in pictures, as painting presents the martyrdom of those blessed men more vividly to our knowledge. Others have been burnt alive, a sacrifice sanctified by their prayer, fasting and other labours. These things are conveyed both by stories and by pictures, but it is the spectators rather than the hearers who are drawn to emulation. The Virgin is holding the Creator in her arms as an infant. Who is there who would not marvel, more from the sight of it than from the report, at the magnitude of the mystery, and would not rise up to laud the ineffable condescension that surpasses all words? For even if the one introduces the other, yet the comprehension that comes about through sight is shown in very fact to be far superior to the learning that penetrates through the ears. Has a man lent his ear to a story? Has his intelligence visualized and drawn to itself what he has heard? Then, after judging it with sober attention, he deposits it in his memory. No less – indeed much greater – is the power of sight. For surely, having somehow through the outpouring and effluence of the optical rays touched and seen encompassed the object, it too sends the essence of the thing seen on to the mind, letting it be conveyed from there to the memory for the concentration of unfailing

knowledge. Has the mind seen? Has it grasped? Has it visualized? Then it has effortlessly transmitted the forms of memory. Is there one who rejects the holy writings on these matters and, in spite of the fact that all lies are dispelled by them, considers them to be not above dispute? Then this man has long since transgressed by scorning the veneration of holy images. Does he, on the contrary, reverence the latter, and honour them with proper respect? Then he will be disposed likewise towards the writings. If he treats either one with reverence or with contempt, he necessarily bestows the same on the other, unless, in addition to being impious, he has also abandoned reason, and is not only irreverent, but also preaches things which are in conflict with his own position. Those, therefore, who have slipped into assailing the holy images are proved not to have kept the correctness of doctrine either, but with the one they abjure the other. They do not dare confess what they believe, chary, not of being impious, but of appearing so; and they avoid the name whereof they willingly pursue the actions. Abominable in their misdeeds, they are more abominable in their impiety. Their whole offshoot has perished, branches, roots and all, even as the wondrous David in his canticle sings of the memorial of the impious being destroyed with noise, and it is He Whom they have set at nought through His picture Who has passed righteous judgment on them. But before our eyes stands motionless the Virgin carrying the Creator in her arms as an infant, depicted in painting as she is in writings and visions, an interceder for our salvation and a teacher of reverence to God, a grace of the eyes and a grace of the mind, carried by which the divine love in us is uplifted to the intelligible beauty of truth.

But what is to become of me, driven as I am at the same time to speak and be silent? For such is the charm of the subject before me that I prefer to continue speaking without ever being sated by speech. But time, which flows on and knows no delay, urges me to conclude my speech with silence and turn to another compelling duty. Yet, since time can no longer be grasped once it is passed, and as for the topic, even if we talked all our life about it, no one would succeed in expressing it worthily, so, as it is ill to fail in both respects, I shall do what I can and ought, and at the bidding of time consent to be silent. But O Word and Bridegroom and substantiated Wisdom of the Father, Whose name this sacred and holy temple bears, grant us forgiveness for what has been inadequately said. For it is Thine wont to look not at the deficiencies but at the intention, and to make that the standard for the gift, instead of weighing the words according to their worth. Grant those also who have received it through Thee to reign on earth to consecrate the remainder of the church too with holy images; and as they have been made by Thee to be eyes of the universe; so guard them like the pupil of the eye, place them above any bad influence, showing them terrible and irresistible to the foes, gracious and salutary to their subjects, and render them, together with us, worthy of Thine endless and blessed kingdom. For Thine is the power and the honour and the veneration, of the consubstantial, life-giving and all-powerful Trinity, now and for ever and ever. Amen.