The Mandylion

There is a category of images in the Eastern Church known as “Not Made By Hands.” These are a miraculous category of images that come to us directly from Jesus or Mary rather than through the mediation of an iconographer. Some of the most famous of these images in the Roman Church are the image of Our Lady of Guadalupe, the Veil of Veronica, and the Shroud of Turin (though the Shroud belongs to the East just as much as the West): the images imprinted upon their cloths are miraculous and not the work of human artists. In the East, there is a particularly famous “Icon Not Made With Hands” known as the Mandylion, the Holy Napkin, or the Image of Edessa.

The story of this image is not found in scripture, but it is firmly rooted in Tradition and history.   A Syrian king named Abgar, who lived during the time of Christ, suffered horribly from leprosy. The fame of Jesus, which “spread throughout all of Syria” (Mt 4:24) reached Abgar at Edessa and he believed in Jesus as the Son of God. Abgar sent a messenger to him with a letter asking for Jesus to come and heal him as well as to live with him so as to escape the Jews, who sought to kill him. The messenger that he sent was his royal portrait-painter named Ananias. If Ananias could not convince Jesus to come with him back to Edessa, he was to paint a portrait of the Savior that he might be healed in that way.

When Ananias arrived, he could not get near Jesus because of the crowds and so, at a distance, he attempted to paint the portrait from a high rock. His effort proved unsuccessful and Jesus, seeing him, called him by name to come down. He gave to Ananias a letter to bring back to Abgar praising his faith and explaining that he must go up to Jerusalem to fulfill the Father’s will. He promised that he would soon send his disciple Thaddeus to him soon to heal him of his leprosy and lead him to salvation. In the meantime, Jesus took a face-cloth and washed. When he wiped his face clean, a perfect image of his face was left on the cloth, which he gave to Ananias to bring back to King Abgar.

When Ananias returned back to Edessa, King Abgar reverently pressed his face to the cloth and was almost completely healed of his leprosy.   His full healing came when St. Jude came to preach the Gospel and baptize him. Abgar, in commemoration of the event, enclosed the Holy Napkin in a frame of gold decorated with pearls and precious gems and placed it over the gateway to the city. Above the icon, he engraved the words, “O Christ God, let no one who hopes on Thee be put to shame.”

The icon, venerated by the people of Edessa, remained there for many years until one of the great-grandsons of Abgar fell into idolatry and decided to destroy the image.   The Lord appeared to the bishop in a dream and warned him about what was about to happen. The Bishop gathered his clergy and removed it in the middle of the night. He hid it in one of the walls with a lamp burning in front of it, sealing it up with a board and bricks.   It remained there for many years, to the point that almost everyone forgot about it. However, during a siege by Persian forces in 545, the Theotokos appeared in a vision to the current bishop named Eulabius and told him of the icon and that it would protect the city. The bishop found the location and pulled away the board, finding the image and the lamp still burning before it. What was more, a second image had imprinted itself upon the board keeping it in the wall. When the bishop took the image to the gates, a violent wind swept down at the flames that the Persians had lit; turning it against them and making them flee.

The image was replaced above the gates with honor, but eventually found its way to Constantinople. It is not quite known when or why it disappeared, but a substantial theory is that it was taken by the Crusaders during their rule of Constantinople from 1204-1261, but the ship it was on perished.

At any rate, the existence of this image can be demonstrated in several ways. The first is a reference from Eusebius, a bishop who was Constantine’s personal historian. Eusebius claims to have seen and translated the letters from Abgar and Jesus, yet his attempts at relaying the story are sometimes poor (for instance, he never mentions the image, which was at that time hidden). Many other Syrian sources after Eusebius reference the story (including the image) in such varying ways as to be sure that they are not all relying on Eusebius’ poor attempt as the main source and reference something more well known. St. Gregory II (715-731) mentions the story of Abgar in a letter as if it were a well-known fact. St. John of Damascus and the Second Council of Nicaea take the story for granted and offer it as an argument from Tradition that icons are a legitimate part of Christian worship.

The Mandylion also helps account for why the image of Our Lord is so uniform and standard throughout iconography from the earliest times. It would make sense that they had a single source, which was easily observable (such as hanging over city gates after a famous victory). What’s more, these icons often match the Shroud of Turin (the burial shroud of Jesus) well, such as the Sinai Pantokrator, which matches the Shroud uncannily well. This would hint that the image that the Sinai Pantokrator relied on and the Shroud of Turin come from are the same face- that of Jesus.

The depiction of the Mandylion in iconography can be found from the times after it had been moved to Constantinople in 944. The icons usually show the cloth, while others show only the face of Christ. Behind his face, we see the common cruciform halo that is characteristic of almost all icons of Christ. He gazes upon us in a serene power, inviting us to come to him for healing. Yet his eyes are usually show gazing a little bit to the side and slightly upward- perhaps to indicate to us his desire to fulfill his mission on earth and go to the Father as he did to Abgar.

The Mandylion marks the moment when Christ put an end to the law prohibiting images and is a constant reminder to us that Christ has become flesh. We can rest assured in our veneration of his image because it was first given to us by Jesus Christ himself, the first iconographer, for his glory and honor as well as for our healing.

To see all of my posts on Iconography, click here.

To see more icons of the Mandylion, see the gallery below.

The Holy Mandylion with scenes. Slovakian

The Sinai Pantokrator

This special icon, located at St. Catherine’s Monastery, is one of the oldest surviving icons that we have, dating back to the 6^th century. We still possess this icon because the Iconoclasts failed to reach a monastery as remote as that at Mt. Sinai. And it is very good that we have this icon. It is believed that this icon was copied from the Image of Edessa (or Mandylion), a miraculous cloth that bears the image of Christ’s face, given by Christ himself (this image will be discussed in my next article). It represents a decisive shift in the way Christ is portrayed in icons and the beginning of the Pantokrator that we know of today.

In this icon, we see most of the usual elements that are found in the Pantokrator icon. Jesus stands as a powerful figure, with a strong neckline, firm facial features, and broad shoulders. Behind his head is the cruciform halo with the Greek letters that stand for the Hebrew Tetragrammaton, identifying him as God. His left hand holds the New Testament, while his right hand gives us a blessing. Yet there is something distinctly different from this icon than what we would normally expect in other Pantokrator icons. For one, the background is blue instead of the traditional gold, showing that that element of iconography had not yet been introduced. His robes are a deep purple, symbolizing his royalty rather than his divine and human natures. We also see that Christ sits upon a throne, yet another element that is different from other Pantokrator icons.

Yet perhaps the detail most intriguing and captivating is his face. There is a very definite asymmetry between the left and the right halves of his face. The left side is clearly relaxed: his eyebrow and mouth are smooth and his eye relaxed. Even the lighting on his face hints at his relaxation. On the other half, we find the opposite. We see certain parts of his face in shadow, adding a sense of mystery to his face. His brow is furrowed and his lips are pursed. His eye even seems to be concentrating upon the viewer with an intensity that can be startling. It works to form an expression that is unusually severe. What is the purpose of this dual face?

I believe the answer can be found in a famous, yet entirely different form of art done by the ancient Greek artist Polykleitos known as the Doryphoros. The Greeks up to this point had perfected the human form in their sculpture, but had found in wanting in some sense. The portrayal of the human body, while having achieved a great measure of beauty, lacked a way of bringing out the duality of the human being- body and soul. Polykleitos, however, found a way of capturing it by splitting the body in half. The left side of the man is shown as relaxed, his arm is steady and his hand is limp. The head is turned to this side. We are given a sense of stability- the soul and the eternal dimension of man. The right side is shown stepping out into motion, the hand extended as it holds what was a spear, ready for action. We are given a sense of change, of constant motion- the body and temporal dimension of man.

We find something similar to this in the Sinai Pantokrator. This icon shows us Christ on the Day of Judgment. The right side of the icon shows Christ as the Just Judge, his expression stern and mysterious, his hand holding the New Testament, representing the New Law written in our hearts (Jer 31:33) by which we will be judged. It is a rather disconcerting image, meant to turn us inward to examine ourselves and see that we truthfully deserve to see this face at the judgment because of our sins.

Yet there is hope. The left side of the icon shows us our Merciful Savior, his expression serene and calm, his hand giving a blessing, commanding us to be at peace. Interestingly enough, the left side of Jesus’ face matches remarkably well with the Shroud of Turin, which was Jesus’ burial cloth and also an image of the love and mercy that Christ has for us by bearing the Cross and torments of the Passion. This is the face that we should most want to see and so we pray the prayer most loved by Eastern Christians throughout the world:

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me a sinner.