The Language of Sacred Art- Tradition, Theology and the Renewal of Christian Iconography.

The visit of King Charles III to Rome last year, during which he was instituted as a Royal Confrater of the Basilica of Saint Paul Outside the Walls, was followed by a similar diplomatic gesture towards Pope Leo XIV. His Holiness was in fact appointed as Papal Confrater of the College of Saint George at Saint George’s Chapel in Windsor, and with the King donating the Pope an icon of Saint Edward the Confessor. As a gift, Pope Leo donated a mosaic icon of the Christ of Cefalù to the chapel, dedicated today at an Evensong there. This was more than simple diplomatic or ecumenical pleasantries between two monarchs but also two Church leaders, it was also a moment dense of symbolism between some of the oldest institutions in the world, the Holy See and the British Crown, offering an opportunity for reflection on the importance of Christian artistic tradition and its place within worship and the visual identity of the Church.


A symbolic element in this was the choice of an image rooted in centuries of Christian iconography and theological depth. This particular depiction of Christ was inspired by the renowned Byzantine mosaic of Christ Pantocrator in the Cathedral of Cefalù in Sicily. Not simply an image, in Eastern theology icons are a window that opens into the divine, this icon is a sign that Christian art turns the mysteries of our faith in the incarnate God visible. The composition and rich iconographic symbolism belong to a tradition in which art and theology are one. 


This particular work combined both the theological depth of the icon with the elaborate craftsmanship of a mosaic, carefully fitted within a Gothic-revival altarpiece-frame in order to merge perfectly with the architecture of the chapel. When closed, the icon bears the arms of both Pope Leo and King Charles. At the bottom are the words by Saint Augustine In Illo Uno Unum. Although, Christians are many, we are all bound in one single body of Christ.
The choice of this particular work was especially astute as a gesture, after all, very few institutions know the art of soft diplomacy like the Vatican, a bi-millennial experience is good practice… Saint George’s is a royal chapel that does not happen to be a mere historic building, it is a carefully balanced relationship in which sacred art, architecture and liturgical furnishings are in strict dialogue thus creating a coherent idiom that allows an icon to fit within this ecosystem without effort, entering into that deep theological conversation of beauty.


This is why the process behind the commissioning of sacred art becomes important. A work of this magnitude, especially if gifted, has to find itself in complete harmony with its new home – this is proven by the work of the world’s finest liturgical art commission that is the Vatican one, whose work is deeply rooted in systematic theology and the ancient patrimony that is orthodox ecclesial iconography. This does not restrict artistic creativity, rather it provides foundations upon which sensible and orthodox innovation can take place, a visual language truly accessible to all. The result is more than mere beauty or artistic refinement, but a work whose beauty is informed by the understanding of what Christian art is intended to communicate.


The Vatican’s choice of a traditional Byzantine image for this particular context is particularly sensible. It speaks of the King’s love for the East while merging aesthetically without contrast in the space that it occupies. It is also an act of pastoral generosity and its visual language is immediately recognizable within Christian tradition. It is a powerful and effective choice for an ecumenical occasion, an image whose theological identity predates the troubles of the Reformation and whose artistic language is shared across historic Christianity. This is remindful of the exchange of the crozier of Saint Gregory the Great by Pope Francis to the Archbishop of Canterbury in 2017 on the occasion of the 50th anniversary of the Anglican Centre in Rome, as a reminder that it was Pope Gregory who sent Saint Augustine of Canterbury to evangelize the English. This makes the icon especially appropriate for this space as a sign of a shared Christian inheritance.


Perhaps this could be a wider lesson for our cathedrals and churches when considering new commissions. Christian iconography is not an abstract set of aesthetic guidelines; it is our shared patrimony and our theology made visible. Theology should be at the heart of sacred art. Contemporary art does have an important place within the life of the Church, there is no reason why tradition should prevent the development of new Christian art, the Church has always been the first to promote innovation and as Christ constantly reveals himself to humanity in the constancy of God’s salvific mission through the Spirit, then so every period and culture has contributed with their own interpretation of that through the medium of sacred art. The great masterpieces of Christian art were often the fruit of creative engagement of the artists with the tradition they inherited.


Yet, innovation is not necessarily synonymous with experimentation for its own sake, nor does novelty automatically produce artistic or theological depth. There is a wealth of accumulated wisdom within the history of sacred art, from the early depictions of biblical, devotional or sacramental elements in the catacombs or the intricate iconography of Byzantine mosaics and icons, later Medieval spirituality expressed in Romanesque and Gothic architecture, and the ideal beauty of the Renaissance or the passion of the Baroque. These traditions do not simply offer historical references to our shared past but they establish a visual vocabulary through which the Church expresses an understanding of the incarnational faith inspired by Scripture and revealed through the Spirit in our sacramental life and devotional practice.
It would therefore be unfortunate if new ecclesiastical commissions were to depart from this inheritance simply in order to provoke and to appear contemporary. A greater knowledge of orthodox iconography could produce more coherent and enduring results. Yet, to be clear, this is not at all a crusade against modern artists or contemporary commission, but instead an invitation for them to approach these with a deeper appreciation of the artistic and theological heritage of the Church. 


Of course, this raises the importance of a well-prepared liturgical art commissions that does not treat art as intellectual game but rather understands and incorporates that reality, that inherited faith and tradition. Having a systematic knowledge of the past, understanding the principles behind the art of the past allows us to create new works without losing theological clarity, visual harmony, and symbolic art that have been part of that shared inheritance of old. When tradition is properly understood, it is not a limitation but one of its richest resources. This gift was perhaps not the most groundbreaking piece of contemporary art, but those who commissioned and gifted it knew what it was for and for whom and for which space. 
And perhaps, this is why this is essential in churches and cathedrals, where works of art not commissioned for private collections or temporary exhibitions, they are integral part of the liturgical and devotional life of the community, as a physical sign of the living faith. Their success is not only through immediate visual impact but through personal piety and the deep theological meaning behind it, thus in itself contributing to the identity of the sacred space, with which it has to be in dialogue.


The gift of the Christ of Cefalù at Windsor is a great reminder that artistic excellence and a deep theological understanding of our tradition need not compete with one another. Instead, when these elements come together, sacred art can be both rooted in the past and its iconography and theology, while remaining relevant in the present. Perhaps, this balance is something we should seek more consistently; not as moving away from innovation, but rather in making it more confident in its own foundations through acknowledgment of a common inherited language and tradition, thus allowing for true artistic progress, that can truly make an impact on the faithful. 


May this theology of beauty as carefully crafted through diplomacy of these ancient institutions be a sign of inspiration to many other foundations and a sign for the times to come. That beauty may be meaningful and rooted in our tradition. This also confirmed the King's role as the Church of England's most effective ecumenical weapon; creating a perfect dialogue between the oldest institution in the world and its soft power and refined diplomacy, under the leadership of the successor of Saint Peter and the King, the only anointed Christian monarch, continuing a tradition that goes back to the very establishment of Christianity as we know it in Rome in 313 under Constantine, the first defender of the faith. May this dialogue for ever flourish through beauty.

(With thanks to Fr Martin Brown OSB, Official of the Dicastery for Promoting Christian Unity, for the photographs).

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