Holiness made visible.

"Thou shall not carve idols for yourselves in the shape of anything in the sky above or on the earth below or in the waters beneath the earth."

Thus says Yahweh in the story of Moses receiving the Decalogue, or Ten Commandments, on Mount Sinai (Exod. 20:4, Deut. 5:8).

Meanwhile the Israelites were making a molten calf, which they worshiped and sacrificed to. It was not a false god; for them it was the God who brought them out of Egyptian slavery. And they were having a good time in their happiness. All-seeing God told Moses about this and when Moses got down from the mountain, he went into a rage and ground the golden calf into powder. (And he had the Levites massacre 3,000 Israelites.)

So the Israelites never made another image of God. Archeological digs have found no representations of God in the area where the Israelites lived. God is transcendent; God cannot be reduced to something carved, painted, or cast. God is not like anything created.

Yet, and this is the point of this piece, we are body and spirit; we are visual people; we need visible signs of God and of who we are--people of God. The ark of the covenant, which contained the stone tablets of the ten words or commandments and was carried even into battle, was a sign of God's presence. It was made of acacia wood and plated inside and out with pure gold. On it were figures of two cherubim of beaten gold. They were not idols, but Yahweh was "enthroned upon the cherubim" (1 Sam. 4:4). "There I will meet you" (Exod. 25-22), God told Moses.

When Moses told the Israelites to love God with all their heart, soul, and strength, Moses told them to bind God's word "as a sign upon your [left] hand and let them be frontlets between your eyes. Write them on the doorposts of your house and on your [city] gates" (Deut. 6:18). Thus the Hebrews would have a constant reminder of God's presence.

I have seen an Orthodox Jew with the small box on his forehead, for many Orthodox Jews observe these injunctions. On arising in the morning an observant Jew will attach, by a leather band around his head, a small box called a phylactery or tefillin containing four biblical passages written on parchment.

Also, he (yes, men only) will attach to his upper arm (near the heart) a leather band stretching to his fingers; to this are attached four small boxes with the same scripture texts.

Orthodox Jews attach to the right-hand entry doorpost of the home a small box cared the mezuza, containing a parchment with two passages of scripture (Deut. 6:4-9, 11:13-21) written by hand in Hebrew. They also attach one to the door of every room except the bathroom. Again, this indicates God's presence and protection.

We note also that God deemed it necessary to have a visible sign, the rainbow, of God's covenant with the people (Gen. 9:13-16) and, as visible signs of God's presence, the burning bush (Exod. 3:24), the cloud on Mount Sinai (Exod. 16:10, 19:19), and the cloud by day and the fire in the cloud by night (Exod. 40:34-38).

The temple Solomon built was so splendid that it took seven years to build. The interior was entirely covered with gold and the carved figures of the cherubim, made of olive wood, were also gold encrusted. The furnishings, too, had to be of the very best.

Chapter 6 and chapter 7 of 1 Kings indicate that we need not be apologetic about the grandeur of our churches today. Jesus did not object to the splendor of the temple; he drove out the money changers and the sellers of doves (Matt. 21:12-13, Mark 11:15-17).

First impressions

In the first two centuries, Christianity managed without images but then began to use them extensively. The pagan religions, rivals to Christianity, made wide use of them and the Christians followed suit. This was not a violation of the Biblical injunction against graven images of God, for there were no images of God. Since Christianity was in more ways than one an underground church, Christians had to be careful. The first representations of Jesus were as a shepherd with a lamb on his shoulder and as a fish.

It may seem odd to have Christ represented by a fish, as he often was, but the Greek letters for fish are the same as the initial letters of "Jesus Christ, Son of God, Savior." Third century theologian Tertullian comments: "We are small fishes, armed thus after our great Ichthys [Greek: fish] Jesus Christ, are born in water [baptism], and only by remaining in water can we live." Thus, we see that sacred images are also a means of teaching, for a picture is worth a thousand words.

Images of Jesus as a shepherd generally portrayed him surrounded by praying souls in a garden--a symbol of refreshment, light, and peace even after death.

Clement of Alexandria warned against imitating pagan idols. "Our seals," he wrote, must be decorated with a dove, or a fish, or a ship sailing before a stiff breeze. "We must avoid the sword and the bow, we who strive for peace."

The Edict of Milan in 313 recognized the Christian religion and opened the way for the flourishing of Christian art. By 600 the icon (from the Greek word eikon for image), with its formal, mystical, human-but-also-otherworldly style of painted images, was fully established. Since people were mainly illiterate, the icons served as a means of instruction in the faith.

A controversy arose, however, over the veneration of icons, and many were smashed. The heresy was called iconoclasm, from the Greek word eikonoklastas for image breaking. We are undergoing a more subtle form of iconoclasm now as sacred imagery is removed from our homes and churches. In 787 the ecumenical council at Nicea declared that images were fine since veneration is directed to the saint, not to the image.

Orthodox Christians refer to icons as "windows into heaven," and icons are often reverently kissed by the faithful. Orthodox churches often have many icons, and they are venerated in the home, also. "We need icons to remind us of God," wrote one Orthodox woman.

Referring to sacred art in medieval times, Father Raymond Avery points out that the sculptures, paintings, and stained glass images "had a genuinely sacred tenor and spirit. These are truly signs of a spiritual presence and power--in a word, sacramentals. This stylized, idealized, even spiritualized likeness can open a window to the supernatural. By its very incompleteness and strangeness, it becomes an evocative reflection of the eternal and transcendent, awakening a yearning for invisible reality, for ultimate truth and the world to come."

Tastes change with the times, and we went from the serenity of the late medieval painter Giotto to the fleshy religious art of the Renaissance. Though the humanity of Christ and the saints was emphasized, there was still a lofty spiritual ambience.

Why make his brown eyes blue?

In the 19th century the images became more sentimental, sugary, sweet, and dreamy-eyed in accordance with the piety of the time. For instance, baby Jesus, a Jew (and thus most likely having tawny skin, dark hair, and hazel eyes) was pictured with white skin, blond hair, pink cheeks, and blue eyes; thus it was into my young years. With the spread of the liturgical movement, however, there was a greater emphasis on improving the quality of the art and on giving the images a greater theological depth.

Thus, over the years Christian art flourished, and in many styles. It flourished because it was necessary to the development and the strengthening of our faith. Churches abounded with paintings, statues, and stained glass windows. When Catholics walked into a church, they felt that they were truly in the house of God--God surrounded by God's family, the saints. And Catholics were part of that family. It was not a solitary God in a gymnasium (for example, some of the new or recently redone churches); it was God at home with God's loved ones, those in heaven and those still on earth. The communion of saints was not an empty expression.

The home was sometimes called a little church. Priests were often asked to bless the house. In my youth, some homes had a crucifix in every room. The dining room nearly always had a picture of the Last Supper. And there were other pictures of Christ and the saints. There was a container in the vestibule of the church where we could get holy water, for every home had a bottle of holy water.

During May we would have in the home a "May altar," a shrine to Mary. We kept fresh flowers and a votive light before her image. At the entrance to the house was a small holy water font inside on the wall so we could bless ourselves with the sign of the cross as we entered.

Sisters gave out "holy cards" with images of the saints. Around our necks we wore a light chain with a medal or two; and some wore a cloth scapular. I won't go so far as to say that we were "safe in the arms of Jesus," but we had a religious security and identity. We grew up with the saints and were at home with them. That's what practicing Catholics did.

Of my graduating class of 106 in a Catholic high school, three became nuns and six became priests (and none of us ever defected). Perhaps it is because the saints, whose images we saw daily, were our role models. Saints tell us about God and reveal God; they inspire us and motivate us.

There was even a time when car owners had a medallion of Saint Christopher in their cars or on their key rings. We later learned that Saint Christopher, as such, had never existed, but the idea of a saint as one who bears Christ was not bad. A myth is a story containing a truth. For some years drivers placed small plastic statuettes on the dashboard of their cars. I haven't seen any lately. Perhaps the owners became too hesitant about showing their beliefs. Nearly every Mexican bus, however, has a medallion of Our Lady of Guadalupe above the windshield.

Mexicans still have small shrines in their homes with sacred images, paper flowers, and votive lights. These are sometimes in public places, also. In northern Mexico recently, I took snapshots of a large shrine in a shabby bus stop. On the Day of the Dead (All Saints' and All Souls' Day) pictures of deceased family members are put on the altars or shrines of churches.

Even on a merely human or genetic level, families have photos of each other to help solidify their family identity. I had an appointment with a floating accountant in the diamond district of New York City the other day, and I noticed that the desk he used had seven family photos on it. It is a custom in Latin culture, said a Puerto Rican mother, to have paintings made from photographs of the children while they are young so you always have the memories.

Sign of the times

Today in the United States more and more Catholic homes are devoid of any Catholic images; there are no crucifixes, statues, or pictures of Christ and the saints; medals and all the other visible signs of our faith that I listed above are all passe. I do not know why, but it is a fact. Surely it can't be that in some way we want to hide our identity as Catholics. "Whoever is ashamed of me and my words in this faithless and sinful generation," says Jesus, "the Son of Man will be ashamed of when he comes in his Father's glory with the holy angels" (Mark 8:39). We are not iconoclasts who smash sacred images; we just let them disappear. Out of sight, out of mind.

And yet we often hear of young people being rootless, of having no identity, of feeling lost, having nothing on which to base their lives. We bring them up in a secular environment and then are disappointed that they are so secular.

For their personal heroes Supreme Court Justice Harry Blackmun lamented that even law school students choose rock or sports stars. Those images are on the walls of the rooms of our young Catholics. When do they see an image of Christ or the saints? Certainly not on TV, the overwhelming visual influence on them.

One wise and sensitive pastor, Father Aldo Tos of St. Joseph's Church in Greenwich Village, New York City, sent to every home in the parish at Christmas an 8-by-10-inch color icon of the Blessed Mother and Child. At Easter, every home received an icon of Christ the teacher. Both were accompanied by printed commentary to increase the teaching and devotional value.

To each member of the parish councils and committees he gave a small metal San Damiano cross. To the graduating class of the elementary school he gave an 8-by-10-inch box-framed icon, and to every child in the school he gave Byzantine holy cards.

"We are visual people, made of body and soul. Even the sacraments are called--outward signs"; therefore, visible and instituted by Christ.

Recently I attended the Sunday liturgy at the Russian Orthodox cathedral in San Francisco. The rich, throbbing singing of the choir, the walls covered with icons of Christ and the saints, and the stately movement of the clergy and assistants in golden vestments moved me to an almost mystical experience. One sensed the presence of God. I hope that the Orthodox never turn their churches into barren barns.

Here is what a group of Catholic scholars at a symposium had to say about our ties to the saints:

"The Catholic tradition holds that Jesus Christ is never alone. He is always found in the company of a whole range of his friends, both living and dead.

"It is a basic Catholic experience that when recognized and appealed to within a rightly ordered faith, these friends of Jesus Christ strengthen one's own sense of communion with Christ.

"It's all in a family, we might say; we are part of a people.

"Saints show us how the grace of God may work in a life; they give us bright patterns of holiness; they pray for us.

"Keeping company with the saints in the Spirit of Christ encourages our faith. It is simply part of what it means to be Catholic, bonded with millions of other people not only throughout the world, but also through time.

"Those who have gone before us in faith are still living members of the body of Christ and in some unimaginable way we are all connected."

In our homes we need visual reminders of this truth. We need images of Christ and the saints to tell us who we are, to reassure us that we are in the communion of saints now and forever, to guide us and inspire us and give us hope and tell us that God loves us. That's good Catholic practice--for nearly 1,800 years, and a practice begun 1,200 years before that.

By Father Henry Fehren, well-known author and a columnist for U.S. Catholic for 27 years. He has traveled to 130 countries.