When Devotion Becomes Proliferation

Denzinger part 35

Does Scripture Support What the Ancient World Practiced?

Denzinger 1569–1572 defends the continued use and veneration of sacred images, condemns attempts to remove certain images from churches, rejects criticism of special devotion attached to particular images, defends the assignment of titles to images of the Virgin Mary, and upholds traditional practices associated with sacred images. These decrees reflect a long-established tradition within the Church that regards images as legitimate aids to devotion and teaches that honor shown to an image ultimately passes to the person represented by that image.

At first glance this may appear to resolve the matter. If the image itself is not being worshipped, and if the honor is understood to pass to Christ, Mary, or the saints, then many conclude that the biblical prohibitions against idolatry are not relevant. Yet the issue is considerably more complicated than that, because the biblical concern regarding images was never limited to the simplistic notion that a piece of wood or stone was literally believed to be a god. The religious world into which God spoke through Moses, the prophets, Christ, and the apostles was saturated with far more sophisticated understandings of sacred images.

One of the most striking facts often overlooked in modern discussions is that ancient pagans generally did not believe that a carved statue was itself the deity. Rather, they believed that the image functioned as a point of contact between the visible world and the invisible realm. Throughout Egypt, Mesopotamia, Canaan, Greece, and Rome, sacred images were treated as places where divine powers might manifest their presence, receive devotion, or interact with worshippers.

Ancient Egyptian religion provides one of the clearest examples. Egyptian temples contained statues that were not viewed merely as decorative reminders of divine beings. Elaborate rituals were performed to prepare these images for religious use. One of the most important ceremonies was known as the "Opening of the Mouth." Through this ritual, priests symbolically animated the image so that it might become a vessel through which the deity could receive offerings and communicate blessings. The image was washed, clothed, perfumed, fed, and treated as though a spiritual presence had become associated with it.

Similar practices existed throughout the ancient Near East. Statues were consecrated. Temples were built around them. Incense was offered before them. People bowed before them. Kisses were given to them. Processions carried them through cities. The image functioned as a visible focal point for an invisible spiritual reality.

This historical background is crucial because it reveals the world in which the Second Commandment was given.

God declared:

"Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image, or any likeness of any thing 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." (Exodus 20:4–5)

The commandment specifically joins the creation of religious images with acts of religious reverence. The prohibition is not merely against believing that an image is a god. The prohibition addresses the use of images within acts of devotion.

This becomes even clearer when one examines the incident of the golden calf. Modern readers often assume that Israel was attempting to replace Yahweh with another deity. Yet the narrative suggests something more subtle. Aaron proclaimed:

"To morrow is a feast to the LORD." (Exodus 32:5)

The people were not announcing a new religion. They were attempting to worship the God who had delivered them from Egypt through a visible representation. Nevertheless, God condemned the entire enterprise. The problem was not merely theological confusion about God's identity. The problem was the use of an image as a religious medium through which God was to be approached.

The prophets repeatedly return to this concern. Isaiah mocks the absurdity of religious images by describing a craftsman who uses part of a tree to warm himself and the remainder to construct an object of devotion.

"He falleth down unto it, and worshippeth it, and prayeth unto it, and saith, Deliver me; for thou art my god." (Isaiah 44:17)

Jeremiah likewise ridicules sacred images that cannot truly speak, move, or act.

"They are upright as the palm tree, but speak not: they must needs be borne, because they cannot go." (Jeremiah 10:5)

Habakkuk asks a question that reaches to the heart of the issue:

"What profiteth the graven image?" (Habakkuk 2:18)

The prophets understood that fallen humanity possesses a persistent tendency to seek visible mediators through which spiritual realities might be accessed. Scripture repeatedly warns against this tendency.

Catacombs of Priscilla (Rome, Italy): The first known image of Mary

This concern becomes even more significant when one considers that no one today knows what Mary actually looked like. No one knows what Peter looked like. No one knows what Paul looked like. No one knows what most of the saints looked like. The image often presented as one of the earliest surviving depictions of Mary does not solve this problem. Even if the identification is correct, it remains an artistic representation created long after the events themselves. It cannot function as a verified portrait.

The implications are significant. When a person kneels before an image of Mary, the image itself is not Mary. It is not a historical likeness of Mary. It is not an object whose accuracy can be verified. It is the work of an artist attempting to imagine what Mary may have looked like.

Defenders of image veneration commonly respond that the honor shown to the image passes to the person represented. Yet this explanation leaves unanswered a crucial question. If the image itself is a product of artistic imagination, what establishes the connection between the act of veneration and the person supposedly being honored? The image itself cannot establish that connection. The worshipper simply assumes it.

The difficulty becomes even more pronounced when one observes the enormous diversity of Marian imagery throughout the world. Some images portray Mary as European. Others portray her as African. Others portray her as Asian. Others portray her as Middle Eastern. These depictions cannot all be historically accurate. At best they are symbolic representations. They reveal more about the cultures that produced them than about the historical appearance of Mary herself.

The New Testament moves in a very different direction. Rather than directing believers toward visible representations, it repeatedly directs them toward the living Christ and the indwelling Holy Spirit.

Jesus declares:

"God is a Spirit: and they that worship him must worship him in spirit and in truth." (John 4:24)

The emphasis shifts from sacred objects to spiritual reality. The focus is no longer upon religious images but upon direct communion with God.

The apostles continue this emphasis. Paul teaches:

"Know ye not that ye are the temple of God, and that the Spirit of God dwelleth in you?" (1 Corinthians 3:16)

The presence of God is not associated with a consecrated image. The presence of God is associated with His people.

Likewise Jesus promises:

"The Comforter, which is the Holy Ghost, whom the Father will send in my name, he shall teach you all things." (John 14:26)

The believer is not directed toward an image as a means of spiritual access. The believer is directed toward the Holy Spirit.

This becomes especially important when Scripture discusses spiritual deception. Paul warns:

"Satan himself is transformed into an angel of light." (2 Corinthians 11:14)

The book of Revelation presents an even more striking warning. The False Prophet performs miraculous signs, deceives the nations, and commands the construction of an image.

"And deceiveth them that dwell on the earth by the means of those miracles." (Revelation 13:14)

The narrative then describes an image that appears to possess life and speech.

"And he had power to give life unto the image of the beast, that the image of the beast should both speak." (Revelation 13:15)

Whether interpreted literally or symbolically, the warning is unmistakable. Scripture consistently treats the combination of spiritual power, miraculous manifestations, and sacred images as something requiring profound caution rather than unquestioning acceptance.

This should not be surprising. The ancient world was filled with claims that spiritual beings manifested through sacred objects. The biblical writers repeatedly confronted precisely that environment. Their response was not to encourage greater reliance upon religious images but to direct God's people away from them and toward the living God.

The strongest criticism of Denzinger 1569–1572 is therefore not simply that images may be historically inaccurate, though that problem certainly exists. The deeper issue is that Scripture repeatedly warns against the very pattern that characterized much of pagan religion: the use of visible religious representations as focal points of devotion and as points of contact with spiritual realities.

The biblical faith consistently moves in another direction. God reveals Himself through His Word. Christ mediates between God and man. The Holy Spirit dwells within believers. The people of God become His temple. The emphasis is placed upon truth, faith, and spiritual communion rather than upon objects fashioned by human hands.

For that reason, the burden of proof rests upon those who would defend the religious veneration of images. The biblical trajectory moves steadily away from sacred representations and toward the living Christ. The question raised by Denzinger 1569–1572 is therefore not merely whether images can be used. The deeper question is whether the practices defended by these decrees more closely resemble the pattern established by Christ and the apostles, or the religious instincts that Scripture repeatedly confronted throughout the ancient world.

Have Later Celebrations Moved Beyond the Priorities of the Apostles?

Denzinger 1573 addresses the institution of new feast days within the life of the Church and condemns the proposition:

"the institution of new feasts derived its origin from neglect in the observance of the older feasts, and from false notions of the nature and end of these solemnities."

Pope Pius VI responds by declaring this proposition to be:

"false, rash, scandalous, injurious to the Church, favorable to the charges of heretics against the feast days celebrated by the Church."

Before evaluating this condemnation, it is essential to understand precisely what is being asserted and what is being denied. The Synod of Pistoia had suggested that the continual addition of new feast days was not necessarily a sign of spiritual growth. Rather, it argued that the multiplication of feasts may have arisen because older and more central celebrations were no longer regarded as sufficient. In other words, the criticism was not directed against the existence of feast days themselves. The criticism was directed against the continual expansion of the Church calendar and the possibility that such expansion reflected a misunderstanding of the true purpose of Christian worship.

Pius VI rejects that criticism completely. The decree insists that the creation of additional feast days should not be interpreted as evidence of neglect, confusion, or theological distortion. Instead, the condemnation defends the legitimacy of the Church's growing calendar of commemorations and rejects the suggestion that such growth arose from false ideas about the purpose of religious solemnities.

At one level, this defense appears reasonable. Scripture itself contains divinely appointed feasts. The Old Testament records that God commanded Israel to observe Passover, Pentecost, the Feast of Tabernacles, the Day of Atonement, and other sacred occasions. These feasts served as reminders of God's saving acts in history and helped preserve the memory of His covenant dealings with His people. Therefore, no serious biblical argument can claim that every feast day is inherently wrong or that all religious commemorations are contrary to Scripture.

The real question lies elsewhere. The issue is not whether feasts may exist. The issue is whether the continual multiplication of feasts reflects the priorities that are actually found in Scripture and in the life of the apostolic Church.

When one turns to the New Testament, the first thing that becomes apparent is the extraordinary concentration upon Christ Himself. The apostles devote their energy to proclaiming His death, His resurrection, His ascension, His present reign, and His future return. Their preaching focuses upon repentance, faith, salvation, holiness, and life in the Holy Spirit. The center of gravity is unmistakable. Everything revolves around Christ.

Paul summarizes his ministry in language that could hardly be stronger:

"For I determined not to know any thing among you, save Jesus Christ, and him crucified." (1 Corinthians 2:2)

This statement does not mean that Paul literally taught nothing except the crucifixion. Rather, it reveals the governing focus of apostolic ministry. Christ was not one topic among many. Christ was the center around which all other teaching revolved.

The New Testament contains extensive teaching concerning Christ, salvation, faith, prayer, holiness, church life, spiritual gifts, suffering, perseverance, and the coming kingdom of God. Yet it contains remarkably little instruction concerning annual religious celebrations. One can read the apostolic letters from beginning to end and discover almost no concern for constructing a complex calendar of sacred commemorations.

This silence is significant because it reveals where the apostles directed the attention of believers.

The issue becomes even more striking when one examines Paul's treatment of religious calendars.

Writing to the Galatians, Paul expresses concern over the increasing importance attached to religious observances:

"Ye observe days, and months, and times, and years. I am afraid of you, lest I have bestowed upon you labour in vain." (Galatians 4:10–11)

The meaning of this passage must be explained carefully. Paul is not condemning every act of remembrance. Nor is he teaching that Christians must never commemorate important events. His concern is that believers were beginning to place spiritual significance upon religious observances in a manner that threatened the freedom found in Christ.

The problem was not remembrance itself. The problem was the tendency of religious calendars to assume a significance that could gradually displace the centrality of Christ.

The same concern appears in Colossians.

Paul writes:

"Let no man therefore judge you in meat, or in drink, or in respect of an holyday, or of the new moon, or of the sabbath days." (Colossians 2:16)

Paul immediately explains why such observances must not become the basis for spiritual judgment:

"Which are a shadow of things to come; but the body is of Christ." (Colossians 2:17)

The meaning of Paul's argument is profound. Religious observances possess value only insofar as they direct attention to Christ. The shadow is not the reality. The reality is Christ Himself. The sign is not the substance. The substance is Christ Himself.

This principle becomes increasingly important when examining the historical development of the Church calendar.

The earliest Christians celebrated the resurrection of Christ and remembered the central events of redemption. Over time, however, the calendar expanded dramatically. New feast days were added century after century. Celebrations arose in honor of saints, martyrs, relics, Marian titles, dedications of churches, translations of relics, local patrons, regional devotions, and countless other commemorations.

Many of these observances developed gradually rather than apostolically.

The Feast of the Immaculate Conception did not originate in the apostolic age.

The Feast of the Assumption did not originate in the apostolic age.

Numerous saints' days arose through local customs and later spread throughout broader regions of the Church.

Many commemorations that eventually became universal began as regional devotions that expanded over centuries.

The historical evidence demonstrates that the Church calendar did not remain static. It grew continually. The question is not whether this growth occurred. The question is whether such growth always represented spiritual progress.

History often demonstrates another possibility. Religious systems frequently accumulate layers of observance over long periods of time. New practices are added while older practices remain. Additional commemorations are introduced without removing previous ones. The result is an increasingly complex structure in which secondary devotions may eventually receive attention that once belonged primarily to more central realities.

This concern lies at the heart of the proposition condemned by Denzinger 1573.

The Synod of Pistoia was essentially asking whether the multiplication of feast days reflected a gradual shift in emphasis. Had Christianity become increasingly occupied with commemorations that the apostles themselves never established? Had attention been dispersed among a growing number of observances rather than concentrated upon the central realities of redemption?

These questions deserve serious consideration because Scripture repeatedly shows God calling His people back to simplicity whenever religious life becomes burdened with secondary concerns.

Jesus rebuked the religious leaders of His day because human traditions had begun to obscure divine priorities.

He declared:

"Ye have made the commandment of God of none effect by your tradition." (Matthew 15:6)

Christ was not condemning every tradition. The existence of tradition itself was not the issue. The issue was whether traditions had begun to overshadow what God had actually commanded.

The same principle applies when considering the expansion of feast days.

The issue is not whether Christians may commemorate significant events.

The issue is whether the multiplication of commemorations eventually distracts from the realities those commemorations were intended to honor.

The New Testament consistently directs believers toward Christ Himself rather than toward an ever-expanding system of religious observances.

The author of Hebrews captures this emphasis perfectly:

"Looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith." (Hebrews 12:2)

The Christian life is fundamentally Christ-centered. The believer's gaze is directed toward the risen Lord. The apostles continually call believers back to His person, His work, His promises, and His kingdom.

This brings us to the central question raised by Denzinger 1573. If the apostles were able to establish churches, evangelize nations, disciple believers, and proclaim the Gospel throughout the Roman world without the vast network of feast days that later emerged, what necessity existed for their continual multiplication?

That question cannot simply be dismissed by declaring it rash or scandalous. It is a legitimate historical and theological question. The historical record clearly demonstrates development. The issue is whether every development necessarily represents an improvement upon the apostolic pattern.

The strongest criticism of Denzinger 1573 is therefore not that feast days are inherently unbiblical. Scripture does not teach that. Nor is the criticism that Christians must never commemorate significant events in the history of redemption. Scripture itself contains sacred memorials.

The deeper concern is whether the gradual expansion of feast days reflects the priorities of Christ and the apostles or whether it represents the accumulation of devotional practices that increasingly moved attention away from the simplicity of devotion to Christ.

The New Testament presents a Church whose life revolves around the Gospel, the Scriptures, the Holy Spirit, and the person of Jesus Christ. The burden of proof therefore rests upon those who would argue that the continual multiplication of feast days constitutes genuine spiritual advancement rather than historical development beyond the pattern established by the apostolic Church.

When the testimony of Scripture is allowed to speak for itself, the recurring emphasis remains remarkably consistent. The apostles did not call believers to fix their attention upon an ever-expanding calendar. They called believers to fix their attention upon Christ. Any evaluation of later feast days must therefore begin by asking whether they deepen that focus or whether they risk obscuring it beneath an ever-growing network of religious commemorations.