Have you ever strolled through a centuries-old church, your gaze drawn to the soft light of a stained-glass window or the serenity of a stone statue? Images of Christ, of the Virgin Married And saints are everywhere. They populate our churches, adorn our homes, and accompany us in our prayer. They are an essential and beloved part of the Catholic faith.
But this presence is not accidental. It is the result of long theological reflection. Over the centuries, the Catholic Church has developed a precise "grammar" to guide the veneration of sacred images. The objective has always been the same: to encourage piety while guarding against a major danger, idolatry.
This question is anything but trivial. It touches the very heart of our faith in a God who became man, and therefore visible. The most recent directives, such as those of the council Vatican II or the Catechism of the Catholic Church, are part of an unbroken tradition that dates back to the 2nd Council of Nicaeaheld in 787 (not 737, a common typo!). This council was fundamental in saving the images from destruction.
But then, how does the Church navigate between veneration and superstition? And more specifically, what about our churches? Have you ever wondered, for example, if a church could house several statues of the even Saint? We think of Saint Joseph, whom we find depicted "asleep," "as a craftsman," or "with the Child." Can these be collected in the same place of worship?
Let us delve together into the wisdom of the Church to understand the right and loving place of images in our lives as believers.
Deep roots: why images in our churches?
To understand today's rules, we must go back to the foundations. The presence of images in the Christianity It has not always been obvious. It was even at the heart of a terrible crisis, but one which allowed for the forging of a luminous theology.
787: The triumph of the Incarnation (the Second Council of Nicaea)
In the 8th century, the Byzantine Empire was torn apart by the "iconoclasm controversy." Emperors, influenced by a strict interpretation of the Old Testament (which forbade "carved images") and perhaps by contact with nascent Islam, ordered the destruction of all icons and statues. For them, representing Christ or the saints amounted to idolatry, to worshipping matter (wood, paint) instead of God.
The suffering of the faithful, attached to their icons, was immense. The Western Church and many Eastern theologians resisted. In 787, the Second Council of Nicaea is summoned to definitively resolve this vital issue.
The response of the Council Fathers is a masterpiece of theology. They are not simply going to authorize the images; they are going to explain Why they have become not only possible, but necessary. Their central argument? The Incarnation.
God, in the Old Testament, was pure spirit, invisible, unrepresentable. “You shall not make for yourself a carved image,” said Exodus. But, say the Fathers of Nicaea, everything has changed. The Son of God “became flesh and dwelt among us” (John 1, 14). The invisible has become visible. In Jesus Christ, God took on a human face, hands, a body. Therefore, painting the face of Christ is not betraying his invisibility, but celebrating the fact that he chose to make himself visible to save us.
To refuse to depict Christ was, in a way, to deny the full reality of his humanity. The sacred image then becomes an affirmation of faith: "Yes, God truly became man."«
To venerate is not to worship: the distinction that changes everything
The Council did not stop there. It established a fundamental distinction, which we still use today, to avoid the trap of idolatry. The Fathers used two different Greek words:
- Latrie (Latreia): It's the’worship. It is due to God alone. To worship a creature, whether it be a saint, an angel, or a statue, is the sin of idolatry.
- Dulie (Douleia): It's the veneration. It is a sign of honor, respect, and affection shown to the saints because of their friendship with God.
When a believer bows before a statue of the Virgin or kisses an icon of Christ, he is not worshipping the wood or the painting. The Council of Trent, much later, would forcefully reiterate this: the honor rendered to the image "refers to the prototype it represents." In other words, the gesture of affection I offer to the image of Saint Joseph does not stop at the statue; it transcends the material to reach the very person of Saint Joseph, who himself leads us to Christ.
The image is a window, not a wall. It is a bridge, not a destination. This is the foundation of all Catholic spirituality of the image.
Modern Confirmation: Vatican II and the Catechism
This ancient wisdom is the lifeblood that nourishes more recent documents. The Council Vatican II, in its constitution on the liturgy (Sacrosanctum ConciliumHe insists that sacred art be dignified, noble, and serve its primary function: "to raise the soul to God." Art is not there for mere decoration, but to participate in praise.
The Catechism of the Catholic Church, in paragraphs 2129 to 2132, repeats verbatim the teaching of the Second Council of Nicaea. It affirms that "the Christian veneration of images is not contrary to the first commandment, which forbids idols," because "the honor rendered to an image is directed back to the original model." The sacred image is a "catechism for the eyes," a silent preaching that reminds us of the mysteries of the faith.
Order and fervor: the practical rules of the Church
With this solid theology in mind, we can now address the more concrete question: how does the Church manage the daily display of these images? This is where more precise rules come into play, designed to ensure that the practice remains just and balanced.
The golden rule: avoid excess
The document that serves as a "guide" for the celebration of Mass, the General presentation of the Roman Missal (PGMR) gives us a valuable clue. In number 318, it deals with the layout of churches. The text is clear: the images are there to guide the faithful towards the "mysteries of the faith" which are celebrated there.
But he immediately raises a crucial point. A "moderate number" of images must be used. Their arrangement must be "so as not to distract the faithful during the celebration.".
The heart of the church lies in the altar, the ambo (the place of the Word), and the tabernacle. Statues and paintings serve the liturgy; they should not interfere with it or transform it into a museum visit. Balance is key. A church is not an art gallery, but a place of prayer.
The crucial question: multiple images of the same saint?
It is in this same document (PGMR 318) that we find the answer to our initial question. The text indicates that, «"Normally, there shouldn't be more than one image of the same saint."» in a church.
Why this rule? It is dictated by great pastoral and theological prudence. It aims to avoid two major pitfalls: distraction and superstition.
- Against distraction Having three statues of Saint Anthony or four of Saint Teresa in the same nave could create visual confusion and distract the mind. Prayer requires a certain simplicity to focus on what is essential.
- Against superstition This is the most important point. By multiplying the number of effigies, we risk slipping, without even realizing it, into a form of magical thinking. We might start to believe that the statue of "Saint Joseph asleep" is more "effective" for housing problems, while that of "Saint Joseph with the Child" would be better for families.
That would be a grave theological error. There is only’only one Saint Joseph in Heaven. He is the sole intercessor. The various statues are merely representations of different aspects of its life, destined to nourish OUR Meditation. The Church wants to avoid at all costs attributing different "powers" to the objects themselves. Attention must always be focused on the person of the saint, and not on the sculpture.
The Church also reminds us that it is inadvisable to have several images bearing exactly the same title (for example, two statues of "Our Lady of Lourdes"). Worship is given to the person, not the object.
The Marian exception: the special case of the Virgin
However, upon entering a church, you have surely noticed that this rule is not always strictly followed, especially concerning the Virgin Mary. MarriedIt is not uncommon to find in the same church a statue of Our Lady of Lourdes, a painting of Our Lady of Rosary, and perhaps a chapel dedicated to Our Lady of Mount Carmel.
Is this a contradiction? Not at all. The Church makes a subtle distinction here, one justified by tradition. These different representations are not simply "duplicates." They are linked to... different titles, invocations, or mysteries of the life of the Virgin or of the history of devotion.
- Our Lady of Lourdes refers to an apparition and a specific message (penance, the Immaculate Conception).
- Our Lady of Rosary the watch with a rosary, inviting us to meditate on the mysteries of the life of Christ.
- Our Lady of Mount Carmel is linked to a spiritual tradition and the wearing of the scapular.
Even though it is the same and only Virgin Married, These different images open onto different "doors" to spirituality. They represent distinct facets of its role in the history of salvation.
However, as the Church reminds us, it would be absurd to compare the "powers" of Our Lady of Aparecida (in Brazil) to those of Our Lady of Guadalupe (in Mexico). It is always the same Mother of God who intercedes for us.
Living with the Saints: From Image to Communion
The management of sacred images is not just a matter of rules. It is a living pastoral issue, which seeks to accompany the faith of the faithful.
The legacy of history and brotherhoods
This rule of "one saint" also has exceptions linked to history. In very old churches, particularly in Europe, one often finds an accumulation of works of art. This wealth is not the result of an overall plan, but of the sedimentation of centuries.
It was common for a church to house several "confraternities" (associations of lay people). The carpenters' confraternity might have its own chapel dedicated to its patron saint, Saint Joseph, and install a statue there… even if there was already another one at the other end of the church! These images are thus markers of the history of popular piety. The Church, out of respect for tradition and the faith of past generations, often preserves this heritage.
The challenge: to educate popular piety
The Church, through documents such as the Directory on popular piety and liturgy, She casts a benevolent yet vigilant eye on the devotion of the faithful. She knows that touching a statue, lighting a candle before an icon, or dressing an effigy (as is done for the Bambino (from Prague or certain Virgins) are gestures that can nourish faith. They engage the body, the senses, and are important to many.
The Church does not seek to eradicate this popular piety, but to...’educate. The real challenge lies there. It is about ensuring that these gestures do not become an end in themselves, but that they remain what they should be: a path towards prayer, a lived catechesis, an expression of love that leads us to an encounter with Christ.
The choice and arrangement of images should never be a matter of private initiative or the "personal taste" of the priest or a parishioner. It is the responsibility of the ecclesiastical authorities (the bishop, in conjunction with the commissions for sacred art) to ensure that the works of art are dignified, beautiful, of good quality, and, above all, theologically sound.
The image as an invitation
Ultimately, the Church's caution regarding the number of images of a single saint is not an administrative whim. It is a maternal protection. It protects God from idolatry and it protects the faithful from superstition.
The sacred image, whether it be the glorious Christ of a Romanesque tympanum or the modest statue of Saint Teresa in a country chapel, has one single purpose: refer to the person she represents.
She is not a magic talisman. She is an invitation to relationship. She tells us: «Look, Saint Joseph protected Jesus; he can also watch over you. Pray to him.» She tells us: «Look, the Virgin Married He said 'yes'; you too are invited to say 'yes' to God.‘
The rules of the Church, from Nicaea II to the present day, aim to keep this "window" as transparent as possible, so that our gaze does not stop at the beauty of the glass or the quality of the wood, but passes through it to contemplate the infinite mystery of God's love and the communion of all the saints.
