The iconoclast controversy happened because Byzantine emperors in the eighth and ninth centuries decided that icons were idols and tried to destroy them. The Church fought back, and after more than a century of conflict, persecution, and theological debate, the Seventh Ecumenical Council settled the matter in 787: icons aren’t idols, they’re windows to heaven, and Christians can venerate them without sinning.
But why did this fight even start?
The Iconoclasts’ Fear
Emperor Leo III kicked things off around 726 when he began issuing edicts against icons. His concern wasn’t crazy on the surface. He looked around and saw people kissing icons, lighting candles before them, asking saints for help through their painted images. To him, this looked dangerously close to the golden calf. The Second Commandment forbids graven images. God is invisible, incomprehensible, beyond all material representation. So how could Christians justify painting pictures of Christ and bowing before them?
Some iconoclasts had theological arguments. Others just wanted imperial control over the Church. Constantine V, Leo’s son, pursued the anti-icon campaign with real viciousness. Monks got persecuted. Icons were whitewashed over or burned. The controversy wasn’t just about art, it became about who had authority, what the Incarnation actually meant, and whether matter itself could be holy.
The Iconodules’ Answer
The defenders of icons, called iconodules, had a response that cut to the heart of Christian faith. St. John of Damascus put it most clearly: the Incarnation changes everything.
Before Christ, you couldn’t depict God. God is spirit, invisible, beyond all form. But then the Second Person of the Trinity took flesh from the Virgin Mary. The invisible became visible. The Word became flesh and dwelt among us. When God takes on a human face, that face can be painted. To say otherwise is to deny that Christ was truly human.
This wasn’t just abstract theology. St. John was writing from Mar Saba monastery in the Palestinian desert, outside Byzantine territory, so the emperor couldn’t touch him. His arguments became the foundation for the Church’s defense. He explained that when we venerate an icon, we’re not worshiping paint and wood. We’re honoring the person depicted. The honor passes through the image to the prototype. Nobody thinks the board itself is holy, it’s a window, not an idol.
St. Theodore the Studite picked up this defense in the ninth century when iconoclasm roared back after a brief restoration of icons. Theodore led monastic resistance, wrote treatises, got exiled for his trouble. He understood that icons weren’t just decoration. They were bound up with the whole Orthodox understanding of salvation, matter, and the body.
How It Ended
The Seventh Ecumenical Council met at Nicaea in 787. Empress Irene, serving as regent, convened it. The council condemned iconoclasm and affirmed that Christians could venerate icons while reserving worship for God alone. They made the distinction clear: veneration (proskynesis) isn’t the same as worship (latreia). We venerate icons, saints, the cross. We worship only the Holy Trinity.
But the controversy didn’t end there. Iconoclasm came back under later emperors. The final restoration happened in 843 when Empress Theodora and Patriarch Methodios brought the icons back for good. The Church celebrates this every year on the first Sunday of Great Lent as the Feast of the Triumph of Orthodoxy. At St. Michael’s, we process around the church with icons that first Sunday, remembering that the Church fought for them and won.
Why It Still Matters
The iconoclast controversy forced the Church to think through what the Incarnation actually means. If God became man, then matter can bear grace. Bread becomes Body. Wine becomes Blood. Water washes away sin in baptism. Oil heals in chrismation. And wood and paint can be windows to heaven.
This is why Orthodox churches look the way they do. We’re not just decorating. We’re surrounded by the communion of saints, by Christ Himself looking at us from the dome or the iconostasis. When you come into the church and kiss the icons, you’re participating in something the Church fought for, bled for, and finally vindicated at an ecumenical council.
The controversy also showed what happens when emperors try to control doctrine. Leo and Constantine thought they could impose their theology by force. They couldn’t. The Church, especially the monks, resisted. Truth doesn’t come from imperial decree. It comes from the Holy Spirit guiding the Church through councils, through the consensus of the faithful, through the lived experience of prayer and worship.
If you’re coming from a background where images in church feel strange or even wrong, you’re not alone. The iconoclasts felt that way too. But the Church worked through this question thoroughly, painfully, over more than a century. The answer we arrived at isn’t a compromise. It’s a confession that God really did become man, that creation is being redeemed, and that we can meet Christ and His saints through these painted windows. Come to Vespers on Saturday evening and watch people venerate the icons. You’ll see what the Church fought for.
