Latter-day Saints and religious images

The following question was once posed to an LDS apologetics email list I subscribe to:

What is the explanation for the many statues, monuments, etc depicting Christ, the angel Moroni and various prophets [?] Are they not which is forbidden in the 10 Commandments?

Surprisingly, among the most fundamentalist type of critics of the LDS Church, this is a common question.

Firstly, with respect to the Decalogue/Ten Commandments in Exo 20:4-5 (cf. Deut 5:8-9), we read the following:

Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image, or any likeness of anything that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth; thou shalt not bow down thyself to them, nor serve them; for I the Lord thy God am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation of them that hate me.

This pericope is not against the making of images per se, but their use in religious devotion, such as one bowing down to them (חוה) and serving them (עבד). That this is the case can be seen throughout the Torah itself, such as God commanding Moses to forge the brazen serpent and His using it as an instrumental means of saving the Israelites from their ordeal in the wilderness (Num 21:8-9), which the author of the Gospel of John uses as a type of Jesus Christ (John 3:14-17). Furthermore, in the historical books of the Old Testament, we read of how God commanded Solomon to make statues which would be within the temple (cf. 1 Kgs 6-8). However, such was proper as they were never the recipients of worship, and when they were, the “orthodox” response of the time was to destroy them due to the idolatry attached thereto (in the case of the serpent, it was destroyed during Hezekiah’s reforms [2 Kgs 18:4]). The LDS practice is consistent with the biblical witness—the images of Moroni adorning most LDS temples and the paintings depicting scenes in the life of Christ one finds in LDS chapels and homes, for instance, are never given veneration by members of the Church.

In the New Covenant, there are two “images” that are allowed explicitly by Jesus, namely the bread and wine (in modern LDS practice, water) that represent his body and blood as potent reminders of His atoning sacrifice (Matt 26:26-28; Mark 14:22-24; Luke 22:19-20; 1 Cor 11:23-27). However, there is no evidence that that the bread/wine, even after consecration were the recipients of worship/veneration, notwithstanding the claims of the Council of Trent commanding such Eucharistic adoration. When one examines the Greek grammar of these texts, they support the “symbolic” understanding of the Lord’s Supper.

Within early Christianity, there was an allowance for images, but again, only if they were not given any worship, such as stylised manuscripts, chalices with carvings, and even paintings. For a good historical analysis, see the work of Eastern Orthodox scholar, Stephen Bigham, Early Christian Attitudes Towards Images. To be sure, there were some early Christian writers who were totally opposed to any images whatsoever. Catholic apologist, Patrick Madrid, is forced to admit that Epiphanius (a father often abused to “prove” the assumption of Mary was known in the late fourth century) was, according to modern Catholic theology, heterodox in his views:

[Epiphanius] was not free from all error . . .[as] revealed by his fanatical opposition to icons. (Patrick Madrid, Any Friend of God’s is a Friend of Mine: A Biblical and Historical Explanation of the Catholic Doctrine of the Communion of Saints, 114).

Catholic theologian, Ludwig Ott, stated the following, showing the late development of Catholic dogma of the veneration of images (which would become defined at the Second Council of Nicea in 787):

Owing to the influence of the Old Testament prohibition of images, Christian veneration of images developed only after the victory of the Church over paganism. The Synod of Elvira (about 306) still prohibited figurative representations in the houses of God (Can. 36). The original purpose of the images was that of instruction. The veneration of images (by kissing, bowing down before them, burning of candles, incensing) chiefly developed in the Greek Church from the fifth to the seventh centuries. The Iconoclasts of the eighth and ninth centuries saw in the veneration of images a relapse into paganism. Against them St. John Damascene (died 749), the Patriarchs Germanus (died 733) and Nicephorus (died 829) of Constantinople and the Abbot Theodor of Studium (died 826) defended the Church practice. They stressed above all the relative character of the veneration and also pointed out the educational value of the images. (Ludwig Ott, The Fundamentals of Catholic Dogma, 320-21)

The Council of Trent in 1563, emphasising the teachings of Second Nicea, stated:

The holy Synod commands all bishops and others who hold the office of teaching and its administration, that in accordance with the usage of the Catholic and apostolic Church, received from primeval times of the Christian religion, and with the consensus of opinion of the holy Fathers and the decrees of sacred Councils, they above all diligently instruct the faithful on the intercession and invocation of saints, the veneration of relics, and the legitimate use of images, teaching them that the saints, who reign together with Christ, offer up their prayers to God for men; and that it is good and useful to invoke them suppliantly (DS 984)

Interestingly, Trent (and Second Nicea) are incorrect with respect to the so-called unanimous consent of the Fathers on this issue. Note the following quotes which are representative of the understanding of images by the early Christians (the following are only representative examples):

Clement, Stromata, Book II, XVIII: "The Law itself exhibits justice. it teaches wisdom by abstinence from the visible images and by inviting us to the Maker and Father of the universe." Ibid., Book V, V: "[Because God does not want us] to cling to things of sense . . .For familiarity with the sense of sight disparages the reverence of what is divine."

Origen, Against Celsus, 7.4-5: "The Scythians, the nomadic Libyans, the godless Seres, and the Persians agree in this [rejection of images] with the Christians and Jews. However, they are actuated by very different principles . . .For none of these other group abhor altars and images on the ground that they are afraid of degrading the worship of God and reducing it to the worship of material things."

Lactantius, The Divine Institutes, Book II, II: "What madness is it, then, either to form those objects that they themselves may afterwards fear, or to fear the things they have formed? However, they say, 'We do not fear the images themselves, but those beings after whose likeness they were formed and to whose names they are dedicated.' No doubt you fear them for this reason: because you think they are in heaven." Ibid. "So why then [since you think they are in heaven], do you not raise your eyes to heaven? Why do you not invoke their names and offer sacrifices in the open air? Why do you look to walls, wood, and stone--rather than to the place where you believe them to be? What is the meaning of temples and altars? What, in short, is the meaning of the images themselves, which are memorials either of the dead or of the absent?"

Notice that these authors were not just arguing against the use of images, but also that the veneration one gives to the images ultimately is given, not to the image, but to the heavenly prototype, which is part-and-parcel of Catholic dogmatic theology on this issue. The Catholic apologist is in the unenviable position of having to defend a dogma that is absolutely unknown to the biblical authors; is condemned as idolatrous by these very same authors, and furthermore, goes against the writers of the early Christian authors. Furthermore, it shows that Rome’s claims to infallibility on this issue, when held to the bar of both Scripture and history, are found wanting on this issue and so many other issues (e.g. the entirety of the Marian Dogmas).  To see the Catholic inability to argue for their position from Scripture and so-called “tradition,” see this exchange between Robert Sungenis (RCC) and Eric D. Svendsen (Reformed) on the veneration of images here.

It is common for Catholic and Eastern Orthodox apologists to appeal to Basil, De Spiritu 18.45 as Patristic evidence for the veneration of images which would later become dogmatised in 787. As Ludwig Ott (ibid, p. 320) writes:

[T]he veneration of the image refers to the prototype (Basilius, De Spiritu S. 18, 45)

However, when one examines this passage, Basil is not speaking of images/icons; instead, he is speaking of the relationship between Jesus and God the Father, the former being the εικων of the Father (cf. Col 1:15; Heb 1:3). Nothing in context is implied about Christians venerating the physical images of Jesus, let alone the glorified saints. Here is the section from Basil's work:

For we do not count by way of addition, gradually making increase from unity to multitude, and saying one, two, and three,--nor yet first, second, and third. For "I," God, "am the first, and I am the last." And hitherto we have never, even at the present time, heard of a second God. Worshipping as we do God of God, we both confess the distinction of the Persons, and at the same time abide by the Monarchy. We do not fritter away the theology in a divided plurality, because one Form, so to say, united in the invariableness of the Godhead, is beheld in God the Father, and in God the Only begotten. For the Son is in the Father and the Father in the Son; since such as is the latter, such is the former, and such as is the former, such is the latter; and herein is the Unity. So that according to the distinction of Persons, both are one and one, and according to the community of Nature, one. How, then, if one and one, are there not two Gods? Because we speak of a king, and of the king's image, and not of two kings. The majesty is not cloven in two, nor the glory divided. The sovereignty and authority over us is one, and so the doxology ascribed by us is not plural but one; because the honour paid to the image passes on to the prototype. Now what in the one case the image is by reason of imitation, that in the other case the Son is by nature; and as in works of art the likeness is dependent on the form, so in the case of the divine and uncompounded nature the union consists in the communion of the Godhead. One, moreover, is the Holy Spirit, and we speak of Him singly, conjoined as He is to the one Father through the one Son, and through Himself completing the adorable and blessed Trinity. Of Him the intimate relationship to the Father and the Son is sufficiently declared by the fact of His not being ranked in the plurality of the creation, but being spoken of singly; for he is not one of many, but One. For as there is one Father and one Son, so is there one Holy Ghost. He is consequently as far removed from created Nature as reason requires the singular to be removed from compound and plural bodies; and He is in such wise united to the Father and to the Son as unit has affinity with unit.

 Interestingly, Martin Luther, while opposing the Catholic (and Eastern Orthodox) understanding of images, equally opposed those who were “image-breakers” (Iconoclasts); see, for instance, his work against Andreas Karlstadt et al. from 1525, “Against the Heavenly Prophets in the Matter of Images and Sacraments.” One can find an online edition here or consult pp. 153-301 of The Selected Works of Martin Luther, Volume 3: 1523-1526, ed. Theodore G. Tappert. I reference Luther, not because I am a huge fan of him (I am not), but because it shows that one can hold a balanced view of images; not the "all-or-nothing" approach one finds within the polemics about the propriety or lack thereof of the veneration of images (i.e. if you don't venerate images you automatically must hold to Iconoclasm).

Overall, the Latter-day Saint attitude towards images is consistent with the witness of both the Bible and earliest Christian commentators on this particular issue. While not a teaching unique to either Joseph Smith’s time period or even in the modern era, it is another (albeit, small) piece of evidence consistent with the Latter-day Saint claim to be a Restoration of New Testament Christianity.

F.F. Bruce: Homoousios was originally a heretical term

Paul of Samosata, bishop of Antioch [was] the first man to use the Greek adjective homoousios (“of the same substance”) to denote the Son’s relation to the Father in the Godhead. The Son, that is to say, was “of the same substance” as the Father in the way in which a stream is “of the same substance” as the foundation from which it flows. It is remarkable that this very adjective, used by Paul of Samosata in a sense judged to be heretical, later became the hallmark of orthodoxy when used in a rather different sense by Athanasius in his struggle against the Arian heresy . . .The phrase “of the same essence (Greek homoousios) as the Father” caused some heart-searching. Not only was it absent from the Bible; it had actually been used by the heretic Paul of Samosata in the previous century to express his conception of Christ as an emanation from God. Many questioned the wisdom of including it in the Creed of Nicaea. It was, however (according to Eusebius), suggested by Constantine himself; and when the Arians showed their dismay at it, the anti-Arian party took it up and insisted that it was indispensable, as no other term could explicitly exclude Arianism. The Arians and their sympathisers would have agreed to describe Christ as “like” (Greek homoios) the Father,” but these terms were naturally judged inadequate to safeguard the catholic belief.

F.F. Bruce, The Spreading Flame: The Rise and Progress of Christianity from its First Beginnings to the Conversion of the English, 255, 306.

Richard McBrien on lack of biblical evidence for Original Sin

The Old Testament has no formal concept of Original Sin. It is aware of sin and especially of its corrupting effects (Genesis 6:12). But Genesis 2:8-3:24 (the account of the first sin of Adam and Eve) should not be read apart from chapters 4-11. Genesis 3 is only an introduction to what amounts to a series of anecdotes intended to show sin, once admitted into the world, spreads everywhere, bringing death and destruction in its wake . . . Although the later doctrine of Original Sin has been read back into Paul’s Letter to the Romans, neither biblical scholar nor theological would agree that it is, in fact, there. Paul’s intention was simply to assert that we are all sinners and that we share in a situation that has been universal from the beginning. His real focus I not on Original Sin, but on Christ as our Saviour.

Richard P. McBrien, Catholicism rev ed. Pp. 185, 186-87

1 Corinthians 8:4-6 as an anti-Trinitarian Text

In his debate against LDS apologist, Martin Tanner, Reformed Baptist, James R. White, a long-time anti-Mormon activist, stated during the audience Q&A session that 1 Cor 8:4-6 is a “Trinitarian text.” Is this the case?

Here is the Greek followed by the NRSV translation (emphasis added):

Περὶ τῆς βρώσεως οὖν τῶν εἰδωλοθύτων, οἴδαμεν ὅτι οὐδὲν εἴδωλον ἐν κόσμῳ καὶ ὅτι οὐδεὶς θεὸς εἰ μὴ εἷς. καὶ γὰρ εἴπερ εἰσὶν λεγόμενοι θεοὶ εἴτε ἐν οὐρανῷ εἴτε ἐπὶ γῆς, ὥσπερ εἰσὶν θεοὶ πολλοὶ καὶ κύριοι πολλοί, ἀλλ᾽ ἡμῖν εἷς θεὸς ὁ πατὴρ ἐξ οὗ τὰ πάντα καὶ ἡμεῖς εἰς αὐτόν, καὶ εἷς κύριος Ἰησοῦς Χριστὸς δι᾽ οὗ τὰ πάντα καὶ ἡμεῖς δι᾽ αὐτοῦ.

Hence, as to the eating of food offered to idols, we know that "no idol in the world really exists," and that "there is no God but one." Indeed, even though there may be so-called gods in heaven or on earth -- as in fact there are many gods and many lords -- yet for us there is one God, the Father, from whom are all things and for whom we exist, and one Lord, Jesus Christ, through whom are all things and through whom we exist.

There are a number of important points here—

Firstly, the term “God” is predicated upon the Father, and it is to the exclusion of the Son. In Trinitarianism, while there is (albeit, a very ambiguous) allowance for the distinction between the “persons” of the Trinity, there is no allowance between a distinction of “God” (or any other divine name or title) and the persons. However, in this text, and other New Testament creedal texts (e.g. Phil 2:5-11; 1 Tim 2:5), Paul (as well as other NT authors [e.g. John 17:3]) distinguishes, not just the Father from the Son, but θεος (God) from the Son.

Secondly, the “number” of God is said to be “one” (εἷς). In light of how the Father has θεος predicated upon his person to the exclusion of the Son, absolutising this verse as White et al. wish to do, this is a strictly Unitarian text, not Trinitarian. However, this is not an issue for Latter-day Saint Christology, as the term “God” is multivalent, as we recognise that the Father is the “one true God,” but there are (true) deities who can properly be called “God” (cf. Deut 32:7-9 [Dead Sea Scrolls]; Psa 29; 89; etc), something neither most flavours of Unitarianism and Trinitarianism can subscribe to.

Another refutation of the Trinity comes from that of logic. In 1 Cor 8:6, creation is said to be εκ (from) the Father, while it is said to be δια (through/by) the Son. Now, again absolutising this pericope in the way Trinitarians wish to do, let us examine how this pericope is another nail in the coffin of the claim that "the Trinity flows from every page of the Bible":

First Premise: If Jesus is God within the sense of Trinitarian Christology, all things would be made from (εκ) him. 

Second Premise: All things were not made from (εκ) Jesus. 

Conclusion: Jesus is not God within the sense of Trinitarian Christology.

This is perfectly logical reasoning, called modus tollens. Not only do Trinitarians have to go against careful, scholarly exegesis of the Bible, but also logic.

It should also be noted that many Trinitarian scholars argue that this text is not Trinitarian, but binitarian, with this pericope “proving” that Paul did not believe, when he wrote 1 Cor 8:4-6, in the personality and deity of the Holy Spirit(!)

Daniel Wallace, a leading Greek grammarian who is also Reformed/Trinitarian, in an interview in favour of the Trinity (which can be found here) admitted this.

Unitarian apologist, Jaco Van Zyl, summed up the implications of this admission rather well in his response to Wallace's interview:

For Wallace to admit that NT writers did not understand the Trinity implies that later Fourth- and Fifth-Century Christians discerned and believed what “inspired” bible writers failed to believe. This argument is therefore no different from the claims made by the very ones Wallace and others are trying to help since the Jehovah’s Witnesses also proclaim that Jesus and the apostles didn’t know that Jesus would return in 1914 C.E., or that the first Christians did not know that the “great multitude” of Revelation 7:9 would be a second class of Christians gathered since 1935 with a different hope than the literal 144 000 anointed class of Revelation 14, etc.; there is absolutely no difference in argumentation. At least it can be safely said, considering Wallace’s admission, that the first Christians did not believe in the Trinity formulated in the Fourth and Fifth Centuries – that who and what God was to them was different from who God was to these first Christians. The implications of this admission are rather significant.

There are other considerations (e.g. the refutations of Richard Bauckham’s “divine identity” argument by Blake Ostler and Dr. Dale Tuggy), but the above should add some food for thought.

Suggested Reading:

Mark S. Smith, The Origins of Biblical Monotheism

Blake T. Ostler, Of God and Gods

Christopher R. Bruno, God is One

Dale R. Tuggy, “On Bauckham’s Bargain” (available online here)

FAIRMormon video response to "The Bible vs. the Book of Mormon"

Did Christ “become” Sin?

Some Christians will insist, however, that “Jesus Christ was the greatest sinner who ever lived.” But not only does the text not demand such a claim, but it is also problematic. One may nuance the claim that Jesus was the “greatest sinner” by adding that this was the case despite the fact that “he never committed a sinful action,” but this is hard even to understand. How is someone really a sinner if that person neither has a sinful nature nor commits sinful actions? More troubling, however, are the theological problems. If Jesus Christ is really a sinner, then he is not—and cannot be—divine. To be divine is, after all, not only to be good; but also, to be divine is to be necessarily good, it is to be Goodness itself. But classical Christian orthodoxy, based as it is on the teachings of Scripture, leaves absolutely no room for doubt that Jesus Christ is fully and truly divine (in addition to being fully human). So he is not a “sinner.” Moreover, it would be terrible news for us if Christ were a sinner. For if Christ were a sinner, then he would not be qualified to be the saviour. Indeed, he himself would need salvation. Nothing less than orthodox Christology and the doctrine of the Trinity would be at stake here—and with it our hope of salvation.

We can only charitably assume that the theologians who make such statements do not mean that Jesus Christ really became a sinner. Perhaps they mean something more like this: God really thinks that Jesus Christ is the greatest sinner—God really believes that Christ is morally responsible for the sins of the world (or, alternatively, the sins of “the elect”) and thus guilty for those sins, and he treats him accordingly. But the alternative is not much better, for it would involve God in a mistaken belief. Thus God Would not be omniscient, and he would be liable to an error of greatest importance. Moreover, once again this would be terrible news for us; our salvation would be based on a mistaken understanding of massive proportion. It seems much better to understand 2 Corinthians 5:21 to mean that God “made him who knew no sin to be the sin offering for us, that in him we might become the righteousness of God.” Christ, the sinless Lamb of God, takes the punishment for sins that is not his—the punishment for sin that is ours—upon himself. And he takes it “away” from us, so that we need fear it no more (Jn 1:29). This idea of Jesus taking our sin upon himself is, after all, a deeply traditional Christian understanding of the text. As Ambrose says, the Lord was not turned into sin, but “since he assumed our sins, He is called sin. For the Lord is also called an accursed thing, but because He himself took on our curse” (The Incarnation of Our Lord, 6.60).

Thomas H. McCall, Forsaken:The Trinity and the Cross, and Why it Matters (Downers Grove, Ill.: Invervarsity Press Academic: 2012), 111-12. Emphasis in original.

Jerry Walls: What's Wrong with Calvinism?