Written by Grover E. Gunn |
Thursday, February 10, 2022
My main point in quoting this journal entry is to provide evidence that Charles Hodge did not regard every possible effort to represent Jesus in His humanity as necessarily and inherently immoral. At the same time, as evidenced by the statement in his systematic theology, Hodge recognized the temptation to abuse such representations as objects or channels of worship. I regard this as a proper balance that avoids both swallowing camels and gagging on gnats.

Charles Hodge published his greatest work, his three-volume systematic theology, in the years 1871 to 1873. He died not that long afterward in 1878. In his systematic theology, Hodge had a long section on the second commandment. He ended it with this word of caution:
No one who has ever seen any of the masterpieces of Christian art, whether of the pencil or of the chisel, and felt how hard it is to resist the impulse to “bow down to them and serve them,” can doubt the wisdom of their exclusion from places of public worship. (ST, 3:304-305)
Hodge’s statement here about the power of “the masterpieces of Christian art” may have been rooted in a personal experience that he had about forty-five years before publishing his three-volume systematic theology. During his two years of study in Europe from 1826 to 1828, he visited the gallery of paintings in the German town of Dresden. His son, A.A. Hodge, quoted from his father’s journal in the biography that he published in 1880. According to the journal, Charles Hodge first visited the Dresden gallery on Wednesday morning, August 28, 1827. He expressed disappointment with the paintings that he saw there with one exception:
The Madonna of Raphael is an exception. This was as much above, as the others were below my expectations. The infant here is wonderful; the expression of the eye belongs to no human infant, but we may well imagine such an expression in the case of our Saviour. The Virgin is the ideal of human purity and beauty; what the human frame may be when this corruption has put on incorruption, and this mortal is clothed with immortality. … on every visit I was attracted and held bound by Raphael’s Madonna. (The Life of Charles Hodge by A.A. Hodge, pp. 138-139)
The painting was probably Raphael’s Sistine Madonna, a painting commissioned by a pope for a church in Italy in 1512 and moved to Dresden in 1754.
My main point in quoting this journal entry is to provide evidence that Charles Hodge did not regard every possible effort to represent Jesus in His humanity as necessarily and inherently immoral. At the same time, as evidenced by the statement in his systematic theology, Hodge recognized the temptation to abuse such representations as objects or channels of worship. I regard this as a proper balance that avoids both swallowing camels and gagging on gnats. I do, however, have some difficulties with the journal entry that I will discuss below. I want to allow some latitude because it is a statement jotted in a journal as opposed to a carefully worded statement intended for a systematic theology.
We have good reason to believe that Charles Hodge understood the doctrines of the Westminster Standards and accepted them as true. In his youth, his mother drilled him in the Westminster Catechism, and then his family’s pastor, the Old Side Presbyterian stalwart Ashbel Green, catechized him. As a young man, Hodge graduated from Princeton College and Princeton Seminary. Then he was ordained as a Presbyterian minister. He then replied positively to the question, “Do you sincerely receive and adopt the Confession of Faith of this church, as containing the system of doctrine taught in the Holy Scriptures?” Concerning this vow, he later stated,
It is something more than ordinary falsehood, if our inward convictions do not correspond with a profession made in presence of the church, and as the condition of our receiving authority to preach the gospel. In such a case we lie not only unto man, but unto God; because such professions are of the nature of a vow, that is, a promise or profession made to God. (The Princeton Review, October, 1858, page 670)
Hodge also later stated that this vow meant that a man received every doctrine taught in the church’s doctrinal standards but not necessarily every proposition about those doctrines in the standards. Yet Hodge seemed to imply that he was one of the few who did accept every such proposition:
If the rule that no man should be allowed to exercise the ministry in our church, who did not adopt every proposition contained in the Confession of Faith, should be carried out, we verily believe we should be left almost alone. We are not sure that we personally know a dozen ministers besides ourselves, who could stand the test. (The Princeton Review, October, 1858, page 686)
Back then, there was also an additional vow for those being ordained as a professor. Hodge vowed at his ordination “not to teach anything which directly or indirectly contradicts anything taught in the Confession of Faith, Catechisms, or Form of Government in this church.” (The Princeton Review, October, 1858, pages 681)
On top of that, Princeton Seminary had its own requirements. When Hodge became a professor at Princeton Seminary, he had to affirm that he would not “inculcate, teach or insinuate any thing which shall appear … to contradict or contravene, either directly or impliedly, any thing taught” in the Westminster Standards. [Charles Hodge: The Pride of Princeton, by Andrew Hoffecker, loc 877]
We also have reason to believe that Charles Hodge accepted statements about the second commandment found in Reformed standards in addition to the Westminster Standards. When Hodge wrote about the second commandment in his systematic theology, he quoted from the Second Helvetic Confession and the Heidelberg Catechism. He quoted Bullinger’s Second Helvetic Confession in Latin (ST, 3:304); here is that quotation in English as translated in Schaff’s The Creeds of Chistendom:
We do therefore reject not only the idols of the Gentiles, but also the images of Christians. For although Christ took upon him man’s nature, yet he did not therefore take it that he might set forth pattern for carvers and painters. (3:836) …
And seeing that the blessed spirits and saints in heaven, while they lived here, abhorred all worship done unto themselves, and spake against images, who can think it likely that the saints in heaven, and the angels, are delighted with their own images, whereunto men do bow their knees, uncover their heads, and give such other like honor? (3:837) …
Therefore we approve the judgment of Lactantius, an ancient writer, who says, “Undoubtedly there is no religion where there is picture.” (3:837)
And here is Hodge’s quotation from the Heidelberg Catechism:
Is it forbidden to make any images or statues? God cannot and ought not in any way to be depicted, and although it is lawful to make representations of creatures, yet God forbids that they should be worshipped, or He through them. But may not images be tolerated in the churches for the instruction of the uneducated? By no means; for it does not become us to be wiser than God, who has willed that his Church be instructed, not by dumb images, but by the preaching of his word. (ST, 3:304)
Here is Hodge’s basic teaching on images in his systematic theology:
That the second commandment does not forbid pictorial or sculptured representations of ideal or visible objects, is plain because the whole command has reference to religious worship, and because Moses, at the command of God himself, made many such images and representations. … There can therefore be no doubt that the second commandment was intended only to forbid the making or using the likeness of anything in heaven or earth as objects of worship.…
It is equally clear that the second commandment does forbid the use of images in divine worship. In other words, idolatry consists not only in the worship of false gods, but also in the worship of the true God by images. (ST, 3:290-291)
The thing thus repeatedly and solemnly forbidden as a violation of the covenant between God and the people, was the bowing down to, or using anything visible, whether a natural object as the sun or moon, or a work of art and man’s device, as an object or mode of divine worship. And in this sense the command has been understood by the people to whom it was given, from the time of Moses until now. The worship of the true God by images, in the eyes of the Hebrews, has ever been considered as much an act of idolatry as the worship of false gods. (ST, 3:292)
Hodge further clarified his understanding by contrasting his Reformed understanding with Luther’s understanding.
As the worship of images is expressly forbidden in the Scriptures, Protestants, as well Lutheran as Reformed, condemned their being made the objects of any religious homage. As, however, their use for the purposes of instruction or ornament is not thus expressly forbidden, Luther contended that such use was allowable and even desirable. He, therefore, favoured their being retained in the Churches. The Reformed, however, on account of the great abuse which had attended their introduction, insisted that they should be excluded from all places of worship.
…
 Luther was tolerant of the use of images in the churches. On this subject he says: “If the worship of images be avoided, we may use them as we do the words of Scripture, which bring things before the mind and cause us to remember them.” … In another place he says that when one reads of the passion of Christ, whether he will or not an image of a man suspended on a cross is formed in his mind just as certainly as his face is reflected when he looks into the water. There is no sin in having such an image in the mind why then should it be sinful to have it before the eyes?
The Reformed went further than this. They condemned not only the worship of images, but also their introduction into places of worship, because they were unnecessary, and because they were so liable to abuse. (ST, 3:303-304)
Hodge is clear that the Reformed, together with the Lutherans, condemn the worship of images, and that the Reformed, contrary to the Lutherans, disagree with the introduction of images into a place of public worship.
Some reading Hodge’s section on the second commandment might assume that Hodge would consider any representation of Jesus in His humanity as inherently idolatrous. I think that would be a hasty generalization. I have not found any statement in this section to justify that conclusion, and his journal note contradicts it. I acknowledge the possibility that my conclusion may also be a hasty generalization. Hodge wrote reams of material, and I have looked at only a small fraction of it.
I have found Raphael’s Sistine Madonna on the Internet, and I agree that this is a beautiful painting as a work of art. I have seen only the digital image, and I would expect the actual painting to be even more impressive. Yet I also have some problems with Hodge’s journal entry.
I find helpful some efforts to give visual expression to scenes and events graphically described in gospel narratives. I don’t have much use for a visual representation of Mary and Jesus not in an event or scene based on a gospel narrative.
Also, Hodge stated that the representation of Mary was so beautiful that he thought it more like what he imagined a glorified body would be like. In addition, Hodge said that the visual representation of the eyes of the young Jesus were too wonderful to be human eyes. This means that these visual representations were not credible representations. When Jesus was a baby, neither He nor His mother had a glorified body. Eastern Orthodox icons portray Jesus with a glorified look based on the description of the transfiguration. Some of the representations of Jesus in western Roman Catholic art give Jesus’ human nature a semi-divine look similar to the ancient Greeks’ depictions of their gods.
The Roman Catholic art of the Counter-Reformation desires to convince us that Christ is truly God’s Son. In this it is right. But it wishes to base this conviction on a representation of Christ in which the resplendence of his divine nature is seen and felt directly. In this it is wrong and misses its goal. The true mystery of the Son of God become man and abased is absent from those representations. The superman or demi-god depicted there has nothing in common with the Christ in the form of a servant. (W.A. Visser ‘T Hooft, Rembrandt and the Gospel, page 31)
I said that I wanted to give Hodge some latitude in my interpretation of his journal entry. His statement about eyes could be interpreted in terms of a monophysite mixing of the divine and human natures in the incarnation. I can’t believe that Hodge could have meant that. I am sure that he was totally committed to the truth that “two whole, perfect, and distinct natures, the Godhead and the manhood, were inseparably joined together in one person, without conversion, composition, or confusion” (WCF 8.2). Taking into account the statement about glorification and the representation of Mary, I take the reference to the eyes beyond human eyes as a reference to glorified human eyes freed from common infirmities at the time of resurrection (WLC 52). This still is not a credible representation of the Christ Child, but this interpretation does not involve a mixing of the two natures.
In his journal entry, Hodge spoke of multiple visits to this museum during which he was attracted to and held bound by this particular painting. This sounds like he may have been close to entering into temptation. Again, this experience may be the basis for the cautionary note about “masterpieces of Christian art” in his systematic theology. If something even as innocuous as a bridge illustration in a gospel tract begins to tempt us as a visual object of devotion, we need to acknowledge the temptation and avoid it.
Dr. Grover Gunn is a Minister in the Presbyterian Church in America and is pastor of MacDonald PCA in Collins, MS. This article is used with permission.
See also:
Westminster Larger Catechism Q. 109 and Representations of Deity
Peter Martyr and the Second Commandment
Zwingli and Bullinger on Pictures of Jesus
The Geneva Bible and Visual Representations of Deity
Archibald Alexander and Mental Images of Jesus 

Understanding God as Beauty, the most beautiful and the One against whom we define all other beauties, allows our experiences of beauty here in this world to draw us towards him. 

When writing or speaking about beauty, one of the first major hurdles to arise is a definition. What is beauty? While most people would say that they know it when they see it, articulating exactly what it is, and what it is not, is a challenge. Philosophers, theologians, and artists have argued about beauty’s definition for millenia, and it would be arrogant to think that what I have to say will end the discussion.
Still, we need to work towards something. Many go back to Plato, and his claim that beauty is objective, and that it has to do with symmetry, order, balance, and proportion. Others, particularly in modern and postmodern Western culture, would argue that beauty is subjective—it depends on your perspective, tastes, experiences, and that there isn’t one true definition for all people and all time.
But perhaps we are asking the wrong question. What if, instead of asking, “what is beauty?” we asked, “who is beauty?”
Beauty has a Name
Augustine of Hippo, an African bishop and theologian living in the fourth century, answers this question. In one of the most famous lines in his memoir of conversion, he laments, “Belatedly I loved you, O Beauty so ancient and so new, belatedly I loved you.” Here, Augustine addresses God, and he does so by calling God “Beauty.”
He’s in good company: his words echo that of David and Moses. In Psalm 27, David declares that he seeks one thing: “that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to gaze on the beauty of the LORD and to seek him in his temple” (27:4, NIV). Later, in Psalm 29, he instructs the people to “worship the LORD in the beauty of holiness” (29:2, KJV). Moses, too, identifies God as beautiful in his benediction to Psalm 90: “let the beauty of the LORD our God be upon us” (90:17, KJV).[1] David and Moses agree: the Lord is beautiful.
If the Lord is beautiful, then it follows that he is the most beautiful. As Anselm argues, “whatever good thing the supreme Nature is, it is in the highest degree. It is, therefore,…supreme Beauty…” Jonathan Edwards goes further, arguing not only that “as God is infinitely the greatest Being, so is allowed to be infinitely the most beautiful and excellent” but that because of this, “all the beauty to be found throughout the whole creation is but the reflection of the diffused beams of that Being who hath an infinite fullness of brightness and glory; God…is the foundation and fountain of all being and all beauty.”
Our Beautiful God
We have identified, now, not simply an idea of beauty, but beauty itself. God, in his attributes and actions, grounds all definitions of beauty. Whether beautiful in small measure or great, something or someone may only be said to be beautiful if it is consonant in some way with who God is.
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God permits awful things, but (to paraphrase Dorothy Sayers) something so grand and glorious is going to happen in the world’s finale that it will more than suffice for every pain we experienced on this planet. God will exponentially make up for every tear (Psalm 56:8), and will abundantly reward us for every hurt (Romans 8:18).

I remember it like it were yesterday. I was fresh out of the hospital, barely out of my teens, and sitting at our family table with my friend Steve Estes with our Bibles and sodas. We had become acquainted when he heard I had tough questions about God and my broken neck. He also knew I wasn’t asking with a clenched fist, but a searching heart.
So, Steve made a bargain with me. I’d provide sodas and my mother’s BLT sandwiches, and he would provide—as best he could—answers from the Bible. Though I cannot reproduce our exact words, the conversations left such an indelible impression on me that even now, over fifty years later, I can capture their essence.
“I always thought that God was good,” I said to him. “But here I am a quadriplegic, sitting in a wheelchair, feeling more like his enemy than his child! Didn’t he want to stop my accident? Could he have? Was he even there? Maybe the devil was there instead.”
Decades later, Steve would tell me, “Joni, when I sat across from you that night, I was sobered. I mean, I had never met a person my age in a wheelchair. I knew what the Bible said about your questions, and a dozen passages came to mind from studying in church. But sitting across from you, I realized I had never test-driven those truths on such a difficult course. Nothing worse than a D in algebra had ever happened to me. But I looked at you and kept thinking, If the Bible can’t work in this paralyzed girl’s life, then it never was for real. So, Joni, I cleared my throat and I jumped off the cliff.”
God Permits What He Hates
That night, Steve leaned across the family table, and said, “God put you in that chair, Joni. I don’t know why, but if you will trust him instead of fighting him, you will find out why—if not in this life, then in the next. He let you break your neck, and perhaps I’m here to help you discover at least a few reasons why.”
Steve paused and then summed it up with ten words that would change my life:
The sentence hit me like a brick. Its simplicity made it sound trite, but it nevertheless enticed me like an enigmatic riddle. It seemed to hold some deep and mysterious truth that piqued my fascination. “Tell me more,” I said. “I want to hear more about that.” I was hooked.
God permits what he hates to accomplish what he loves.
Over that summer with Steve, I would explore some of the most puzzling passages in Scripture. I wanted to know how God could permit hateful things without being in cahoots with the devil. How could he be the ultimate cause behind suffering without getting his hands dirty? And to what end? What could God possibly prize that was worth breaking my neck?
He Does Not Afflict Willingly
So, let me parrot some of Steve’s counsel to me that summer. He started off with Lamentations 3:32–33:
Though he brings grief, he will show compassion, so great is his unfailing love. For he does not willingly bring affliction or grief to the children of men. (NIV)
In the span of a verse, the Bible asserts that God “brings grief,” yet “he does not willingly bring…grief.” With that, Steve was able to reassure me from the top that although God allowed my accident to happen, he didn’t get a kick out of it—it gave him no pleasure in permitting such awful suffering. It meant a lot to hear that.
But what about my question of who was in charge of my accident? When it comes to who is responsible for tragedy—either God or the devil—Lamentations 3 makes it clear that God brings it; he’s behind it. God is the stowaway on Satan’s bus, erecting invisible fences around the devil’s fury and bringing ultimate good out of Satan’s wickedness.
Buck Stops with God
“God’s in charge, Joni, but that doesn’t mean he actually pushed you off the raft,” Steve said. “Numbers 35:11 pictures someone dying in an ‘accident,’ calling it ‘unintentional.’ Yet elsewhere, of the same incident, the Bible says, ‘God lets it happen’ (Exodus 21:13). It’s an accident, but it’s God’s accident. God’s decrees allow for suffering to happen, but he doesn’t necessarily ‘do’ it.”
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