Visual Odes to Joy: How Sacred Art Reveals the Body, Soul and Divinity of Christ

This article examines how over the centuries the Catholic artistic tradition has portrayed Christ’s dual nature—human and divine—with a particular focus on images of the Crucifixion. Drawing from the hymns of Sunday Orthros of the Byzantine Liturgy, it examines how artists use visual tools, such as controlled partial abstraction, and symbols like the halo, to reveal Christ’s humanity, divinity, and the hope of resurrection for all believers through deification.

11th-century French illumination

In Ode IX of the canons in Tone VII, there is a call to silence those who misunderstand the mystery of Christ Crucified:

“O all ye of alien mind, who assume that the Divinity suffered, stop your mouths; for we magnify the Lord of glory crucified in the flesh, but not crucified in His divine essence, for He is One in two natures.

“O ye who believe not in the resurrection of the body, come ye to the tomb of Christ and learn; for the flesh of the Bestower of life was dead and rose again, to assure us of the final resurrection, wherein we hope”

These words, written centuries ago, remind us of the profound truth of Christ’s dual nature—human and divine, united in one person. As a man, he possesses a material body and a spiritual and immortal soul (in common with all men); and as God, he possesses a spiritual, divine nature.

This theological truth shapes not only our worship, knowing that Christ is truly present in the Eucharist, ‘body, soul, and divinity’, but also the form and content of the sacred art developed for that worship.

The Catholic artistic tradition always aims to reveal the invisible through the visible. When we gaze upon an icon, a Gothic crucifix, or a Baroque painting of Christ, we are looking at a man. These are Catholic traditions in liturgical art in which the viewer is invited further to see the person, whose human nature suffered and died, yet whose divine nature remained untouched by the Cross’s agony, as the hymn above tells us.

The spiritual aspects of Christ, his soul and divinity, cannot be represented directly in an image. However, these invisible truths can be indicated through the representation of the body. In our everyday interactions, we can discern, to some degree, the inner thoughts and feelings of the person simply by looking at them through their gestures, facial expressions, and actions. This is especially true for those whom we love and know well, and whose body language is familiar to us. The artist uses these visible signs of the soul as a starting point and then builds upon them to reveal more.

Christ as Man: The Familiar Face of the Saviour

From around the 4th century AD, when public Christian sacred art became possible in the Roman Empire, the image of Christ as a bearded man emerged as the dominant prototype (along with the first distinctive Christian style of art, the iconographic tradition). This was not an arbitrary choice but a deliberate one, rooted in the need to portray Christ’s humanity in a way that the faithful could recognise. (It is interesting that this has remained the dominant prototype to this day and also corresponds to images coming from other sources, such as the Shroud of Turin.) A painting of Christ must reflect what we know of Him as a man, including his physical attributes. Yet, this portrayal ought never be merely naturalistic. The artist’s task is to transcend the material, to suggest the spiritual soul that animates the human person.

As described above, there is a focus on conveying the inner life through facial expressions and gestures. The eyes, often referred to as the “windows of the soul,” are frequently depicted with meticulous care, conveying thought, feeling, and presence. A subtle gesture, a carefully rendered expression—these draw us into the mystery of the person. Even in the restrained iconographic style, where emotional extravagance is avoided, the viewer senses a living, breathing soul behind the image.

Aside from the expression and gesture, this is also achieved through what I call ‘partial abstraction’—a deliberate departure from strict realism to evoke the inner life of the subject. Whether in the serene stillness of an icon, the emotive intensity of a Gothic crucifix, or the dramatic naturalism of a Baroque painting, artists employ conventions of partial abstraction - some obvious and some far more subtly applied - that characterise their tradition and lend to it a symbolic, otherworldly quality.

For those who wish to explore this further, my book The Way of Beauty delves into how these artistic conventions developed to communicate spiritual truths through visual form.

Christ as God: The Light of Divinity

Yet, the artists’ challenge extends beyond portraying Christ’s humanity. They must also reveal His divinity, a task that requires further abstraction to point to the heavenly realm. The iconographic tradition, in particular, is designed to suggest that Christ is both of this world and beyond it. Its stylised forms—elongated figures, serene yet slightly melancholic expressions, and otherworldly compositions—evoke the eternal, drawing the worshipper into contemplation of the divine.

One of the most enduring symbols of Christ’s divinity used universally is the simple halo, a stylised representation of the “uncreated light” described in the Transfiguration and the Book of Revelation. It is the holy light that radiates from Christ’s divine nature, which is visible to the saints and angels in heaven. While the halo is often depicted as a gold disc, artists like Velázquez have suggested it more subtly, using a light scumble to create an aura around Christ’s head. The artist here has managed to convey dignity and bearing despite such great suffering.

Another common convention is the inclusion of the name in the painting—Jesus Christ, often used in an abbreviated form ‘IC XC’. These are the first and last letters of “Jesus Christ” in Greek. The attribution of him as the Christ (the Anointed One, the Messiah) affirms in writing what the image proclaims through both content and style: this is God Incarnate.

The Crucifixion: Suffering and Serenity

The crucifixion presents a unique challenge for the artist, as it must convey both Christ’s human suffering and His immutability and divine impassibility. The hymns of Orthros remind us that Christ suffered in His humanity but not in His divinity. St. Paul tells us that Christ “emptied himself” (Philippians 2, 7), choosing to endure the full weight of human pain—physical and spiritual—and not taking refuge, so to speak, in His divine nature, which remained untouched.

This paradox is vividly expressed in sacred art, particularly in the iconographic tradition. Consider the San Damiano crucifix, the famous icon through which Christ spoke to St Francis of Assisi. In this image, Christ appears almost to float before the cross. His body and expression are serene despite the nails.

Or the traditional Russian icons, which have a greater sense of the physical suffering as the body is bowed under its own weight, still convey a sense of divine detachment.

Crucifixion by Dionisius, Russian, 16th century

These images do not deny Christ’s suffering at all, the nails and the blood are present, but rather affirm simultaneously His dual nature, showing Him as both fully human and fully divine. This is a mystery that requires the artist to make a choice on how to balance the portrayal of each nature, so as not to allow one to eclipse the other.

Different traditions and even within them, different artists emphasise this balance of human suffering and the untouched divine nature present in Christ differently. In Gothic crucifixes, especially those of the Franciscan tradition, the emphasis is more heavily on the physical agony than the iconographic; yet, even here, subtle abstractions and the presence of the name and halo point to the divine presence.

Crucifixion by Cimabue, at Sant Croce, Florence, 13th century; 

Image from Wikimedia Commons by Ismoon, CC BY-SA 4.0

This dual message speaks not only of Christ, but also speaks to us of ourselves, the faithful. As members of the Mystical Body of Christ, we partake in His divine nature through grace. This is why saints, too, are depicted with halos, signifying their participation in the divine light. The martyrs, like St. Stephen, whose face shone “like the face of an angel” (Acts 6, 15) even as he was stoned, show us that Christ’s consolation surpasses even the greatest suffering, and can be contrasted with the suffering of Christ, which was greater. The witness of the martyrs reminds us that, through Christ, we are never alone in our trials. It also highlights even more poignantly the great sacrifice that Christ made. He chose to experience the full force of human suffering during the passion without consolation, so that we might be consoled in our suffering.

The Stoning of St Stephen, by Orazio Samacchini, Italian, 16th century (Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.)

The task of the Christian artist is daunting: to portray Christ as both fully human and fully divine. And while the Church offers no dogmatic prescriptions on how to do this, the wise artist will look to tradition for guidance. Through partial abstraction, symbolic conventions, and careful attention to tradition, artists who conform to tradition create images that do more than decorate—they evangelise by revealing profound truths and by deepening our participation in the liturgy. They invite us to see Christ as He is: the King of glory, crucified and resurrected in the flesh, and eternal in His divine nature; a divine nature of which we partake for our joy even in earthly suffering.

The Canon of the Cross and Resurrection from Ode 1 in Tone 1 on Sunday makes this point:

“Christ deifieth me, assuming my flesh; Christ exalteth me, humbling Himself; Christ the Bestower of life, maketh me dispassionate, suffering in His fleshly nature. Wherefore, I chant a hymn of thanksgiving for He hath been glorified.

“Crucified, Christ lifteth me up; put to death, Christ raiseth me up with Himself. Christ giveth me life. Wherefore, clapping my hand in gladness, I chant a hymn of victory to the Saviour, for He hath been glorified.”