Thursday, May 7, 2026

Samuel Laeuchli on Canon 36 of the Synod of Elvira

  

They Must Not Do This—d²

 

The canons of Elvira contain four different patterns by means of which a certain deed or behavior is rejected. Pattern represents a canon or part of a canon in which a straightforward prohibition is stated: “They must not do this.” While many other canons threaten the transgressor either with a sentence of exclusion or of penance, the sentences stop at the prohibition, not reckoning with the chance that it may not be heeded. Why not? Is the difference between canons that merely say No and canons that carefully spell out what happens when Christians disregard the No a matter of chance? Is it that some of the men who formulated particular sentences happened to reckon with disobedience while others did not? It can be shown that the difference is not merely coincidental, and results from the bishops’ ambivalence. In some canons the simple prohibition sufficed because the synod did not fear noncompliance. In others, however, the synod failed to spell out penalty, exclusion, or mercy because the clerics were uncertain about their own convictions.

 

The famous can. 36 illustrates this first of Elvira’s four negative patterns: “There shall be no pictures in churches, lest what is worshipped and adored be depicted on walls.” The text has been controversial in historical analysis, in respect to Christian art and ancient Christian iconoclasm, because it does not make clear what the problem of iconoclasm was in Spain at the time. Were all images summarily banned or only those with liturgical connotations? Did the canon attack abuses or did it presuppose the total absence of art in churches? I believe that the ambiguity of the decision is revealing: it was in such a pattern that the synod operated when it did not want to commit itself.

 

There are three kinds of ambiguity in can. 36. In the first place, the canon has no addressee; it is one of the few canons which deal merely with the issue, without an segment. The canon, however, should have an segment, for those walls on which pictures were not to be painted were surely not decorated by angels. Bishops and presbyters, the same kinds of people who made decisions at Elvira, decided on such matters. When the synod meant to stop either a cleric or a layman from committing some objectionable deed, it certainly named him, or her, or them: “Bishops and presbyters who . . . .” Yet in the canon under discussion, the synod did not come to terms with persons. In the second place, the canon has no sanction. When the synod was afraid that its decision would not be heeded, it certainly was not reluctant to outline penalty or anathema, as the forty-nine cases of penance and irrevocable exclusion show. It does not spell out what would happen if images were put into churches. Moreover, in leaving out the unit, the synod did not even hold anyone responsible for such a misdeed. In the third place, the canon has a rather puzzling s³ segment: “ne quid colitur et adoratur in parietibus depingatur.” This segment could be interpreted as meaning that only what might be worshipped and adored was prohibited; but the main part of the canon does not prohibit images in such a restricted way. The synod’s ambivalence is unmistakable.

 

These three evidences, compared to the other decision patterns, make it quite clear that in the decision in can. 36 the synod was unwilling to commit itself. Why? There are two possibilities: either it did not regard the issues as very important, and did not expect much resistance, or it felt that the issue was too hot and it did not dare to make stringent sanctions against disobedience. One has to reckon, in all of the decisions, with both of these possibilities. They are not as unlike each other as one assumes at first sight. Whether the synod regarded the case under scrutiny as too unimportant to make an issue of or only halfheartedly supported its own ruling does not matter. What matters is that sanctions, anathema, and penance were left out of the decisions. They were left out to avert a confrontation.

 

Such evasion is especially clear in can. 36. The decision is ambiguous because the synod did not want to use the iconoclastic issue as a test case of its control of the churches. For some reasons that can no longer be recovered the issue came up in the council. It found a majority vote, perhaps a unanimous one. Who knows? The verdict, however, was vague: no one was threatened, no one was to be punished. The decision, like the preceding s³ segment, was inconclusive, and this canon was the only one passed concerning the matter of iconoclasm. The clerics who came to Elvira did not want to make a major issue out of iconoclasm. Perhaps they themselves loved images, their aesthetic character, their symbolic beauty. Perhaps there were pictures in their own churches which they felt were harmless. Yet they could imagine abuses, and so a stance had to be taken. The fourth-century church profited from their tentativeness: images became acceptable.

 

This tentativeness can be understood when set against the background of early Christianity’s relationship to art. Ever since the beginning of Christianity there had been polemic by Christian writers against the use of images, which was inherited in part from Judaism and in part from the philosophical criticism of popular religion. The critical statements of the early church against image worship were made by theologians, by the Christian leaders who rejected images as pagan, idolatrous, blasphemous, anthropomorphic, and crass. The archeological evidence, however, shows that Christianity in the third century, if not earlier, often produced pictures. The catacombs are full of them, and the baptistry and sanctuary at Duro Europos exhibit them. Can. 36 of Elvira would not have been necessary if pictures had not existed at all.

 

The conflict about images is related to the different attitudes toward them among clergy and laity. While the Christian elite regarded the icons for a long time with hostility, the Christian grass-roots community employed them without qualm. The conflict between traditional clerical anti-iconic positions and the popular demand for images was in evidence only a few years after Elvira when Constantine asked Eusebius of Caesarea for a picture of Christ, and Eusebius although one of the protagonists for Constantine’s imperial Christian ideals, rejected the emperor’s demand. For centuries, an anti-iconic and a pro-iconic stance continued side by side in the Christian church, one leading to the superb art of Ravenna and the other to the iconoclastic pogroms of the eighth century. The dilemma of can. 36 is the dilemma of a crucial moment involving that duality.

 

The ambiguity of can. 36, thus, directly reflects the mixed feelings of the clergy toward the matter. As members of the Christian elite, they had to speak against the images; as part of a church that acquiesced more and more in the popular demand for visual, concrete imagery, they were not so sure about the corrupting character of such art. The decision of can. 36 enables us to read that ambivalence between the elite’s traditional theological, as well as social, rejection of images and its personal emotional acceptance of them.

 

The pattern, therefore, was applied to cases that were easily resolvable because the persons named were essentially powerless to resist. It was also applied, however, to precisely opposite cases in which obedience would have been very hard to secure. Can. 29, for instance, prohibiting possessed Christians from participating in the liturgy of the church or from holding an office in the church did not need to say more. The mentally ill were easily dismissed in the ancient world. Such a ruling would hardly have evoked much dissent. Likewise, can. 80 barring freedmen from the episcopal rank contained no controversial move: freedmen were socially outclassed by the bishops and did not have much of a chance to break that barrier. (Samuel Laeuchli, Power and Sexuality: The Emergence of Canon Law at the Synod of Elvira [Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1972], 33-37)

 

 

Further Reading:

 

Answering Fundamentalist Protestants and Roman Catholic/Eastern Orthodox on Images/Icons