By Fr. Augoustinos Vlachos
A few days ago, the face of the Saint whom our Church honors today, Saint Christopher, unexpectedly found himself in the spotlight, not because of his virtue but because of the issue of the profane “art” that was displayed in the National Gallery.*
Some, trying to justify those blasphemous icons, invoked the Church, saying: “But don’t you also paint saints with dog heads? Doesn’t that depiction offend you?”
So today after the Divine Liturgy, I was thinking about how much ignorance there is, how little we know the language and symbolism of our Church, and I don’t say this in a reproachful way, but with sadness. And the problem certainly does not lie with the well-intentioned (if there are any among them) who ask with sincerity, but with those who pretend to be experts, without knowing what they are saying, who throw out half-sentences and sketchy arguments to justify the unjustified.
Saint Christopher, obviously, was not a dog. He was a human being. Like all saints. He was a man of tremendous physical strength, descended according to tradition from a barbaric and savage people. He was rough in appearance and silent in nature. And yet, he believed. He was converted. He was illumined.
His iconographic representation with a dog's head is not a figment of the imagination or some deliberate insult. It is the result of traditions lost in the depths of the East - Egypt, Syria but also Crete and Cyprus.
This image has behind it a cultural and symbolic richness. In some cases, it seems to have arisen from a misinterpretation of the words "Canaanite" and "Dog-headed".
In others, it functioned purely symbolically: as a reminder of the uncivilized nature of the Saint before his coming to Christ.
His form is therefore not depicted in this way to belittle but to emphasize the greatness of the transformation brought about by Divine Grace. The savage becomes peaceful. The barbarian becomes holy. The “dog-like” bears Christ.
The Church, of course, respects both creation and animals as God’s creations. It does not despise them. However, it does not worship images of animals. It worships God and honors that man who is transformed by Grace. It does not depict the Saint with the head of an animal to exalt the animal but to reveal the infinite power of God to transform roughness into holiness.
This is also the reason why this figure, no matter how strange it may seem, has never challenged the faithful, because behind it a path is discernible. Not ridicule but transformation. Not contempt but redemption.
Today, some try to compare holy icons with deliberately provocative works. But it is not the same.
When the Church paints icons, it does not make fun of them. It symbolizes, it does not provoke. It educates, it does not mock. It glorifies.
And Saint Christopher is no exception. He is an example. An example of how the Grace of God can dwell in a "heavy", unyielding, an isolated person, in a person whom others consider a "beast".
I too, when I first saw the Saint painted in this way in a country chapel in the Mediterranean, was scared. But look how God brought it about, several years later, today, when I mentioned him during the Dismissal, I understand why I was scared then:
Because I saw myself. How many times have I been and still am rough, heavy, distant... And yet He did not reject me. He lifted me on His shoulders, just as Saint Christopher once lifted Him in the river.
When the Church paints icons, it does not make fun of them. It symbolizes, it does not provoke. It educates, it does not mock. It glorifies.
And Saint Christopher is no exception. He is an example. An example of how the Grace of God can dwell in a "heavy", unyielding, an isolated person, in a person whom others consider a "beast".
I too, when I first saw the Saint painted in this way in a country chapel in the Mediterranean, was scared. But look how God brought it about, several years later, today, when I mentioned him during the Dismissal, I understand why I was scared then:
Because I saw myself. How many times have I been and still am rough, heavy, distant... And yet He did not reject me. He lifted me on His shoulders, just as Saint Christopher once lifted Him in the river.
How many times do we resemble what the world considers “repulsive”? And yet, how many times does the Church stand by us, embrace us, give us a name and identity and hope?
Saint Christopher is not a paradoxical detail of hagiography. He is the preaching that there are no lost ones for Christ. That even he who seems strange can become a carrier of God.
And today, in the noise of irreverence and confusion, the Saint whispers to us: “It doesn’t matter how you were. It matters Who you are holding on your shoulders now.”
Saint of God, intercede for us!
Source: Translated by John Sanidopoulos.
Notes:
* On March 10th 2025, a Greek ultra-conservative Member of Parliament vandalized artwork in the National Gallery of Athens that he deemed offensive to Orthodox Christianity. The Thessaloniki MP was arrested and charged with a misdemeanor involving minor property damage. After the attack, the Gallery removed the artworks, with the artist’s consent, in an effort to ensure the safety of the institution, its staff, visitors, and artworks, while also seeking to restore normal operations. On May 6th 2025 the artworks were reinstated in the exhibition hall with added security measures.
