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| Mosaic of Christ Pantokrator, in Hosios Loukas. The monastery, located in Phocis near the site of ancient Delphi, and was built in the 11th century CE in honor of Saint Luke of Steiri (896-953) |
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| Archetypal Gothic Lady of Sorrows from a triptych by the Master of the Stauffenberg Altarpiece, Alsace, circa 1455 |
The art of Byzantium occupies a distinctive place in the history of visual expression, yet its underlying purpose reveals striking affinities with modern graphic design. Like contemporary design, Byzantine art was less concerned with naturalistic representation than with clarity of message. Its primary aim was to communicate complex spiritual truths in the most direct, efficient, and memorable way possible. To achieve this, Byzantine artists employed a sophisticated visual vocabulary: stylized figures, iconic gestures, symbolic color schemes, calligraphic inscriptions, and highly codified imagery. These elements worked in concert to ensure that even the illiterate faithful could grasp the essence of Christian doctrine at a glance.
As with every artistic tradition, Byzantine creativity did not emerge in isolation. It grew out of—and was profoundly shaped by—the visual culture of its predecessors. Many of the images and symbols that filled Byzantine mosaics, frescoes, and illuminated manuscripts were adapted directly from the Mithraic mysteries and other Roman religious traditions that had dominated the cultural life of the empire during the formative centuries of Christianity. This was no mere coincidence. Early Christians, often persecuted and forced into secrecy, found it necessary to cloak their identity beneath signs that were recognizable only to insiders. Such concealed symbols both safeguarded the community and allowed them to infuse familiar motifs with new, Christ-centered meaning.
Among the most famous of these early Christian signs was the fish. Far from being a random choice, the fish served as a sacred acrostic: in Greek, ichthys (ἰχθύς) formed from the initials of the phrase Iesous Christos Theou Yios Soter—“Jesus Christ, Son of God, Savior.” A simple image of a fish, therefore, encapsulated the central creed of Christianity while remaining innocuous to outsiders. Yet the adaptation of pagan motifs went even further. Christ was often portrayed in the guise of heroic figures drawn from Mithraic and other Greco-Roman cults—figures venerated by soldiers, senators, and even emperors such as Julian the Apostate.
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| Good-shepherd-fresco in The Crypts of Lucina, ceiling of the Cubiculum of a catacomb of Callixtus in Rome mid-third century. Such Mithraic images were freely adopted by the Byzantine artists. |
The pioneering Belgian historian Franz Cumont was perhaps the first to systematically trace these borrowings. In his seminal studies of Mithraism, Cumont demonstrated that the cosmological imagery of late antique Christian art—representations of the heavens, earth, ocean, sun, moon, zodiac, planets, seasons, and four elements—were not original Christian inventions but rather Mithraic symbols reinterpreted for new purposes. As Cumont observed, “a few alterations in costume and attitude transformed a pagan scene into a Christian picture.”
One particularly telling example was the image of a spring bursting forth from rocks, a motif deeply rooted in Mithraic iconography where Mithras was depicted releasing water by shooting arrows into stone. Christian artists, consciously or not, repurposed this image into the biblical story of Moses striking Mount Horeb with his staff to bring forth water for the Israelites. What had once been a pagan symbol of cosmic fertility was thus recast as a miracle of divine providence, woven seamlessly into the Christian visual tradition.
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| Sol Invictus had been adopted by the Church of Rome as evidenced by Christ as Mithra-Helios in a mausoleum discovered under St. Peter's Basilica in Vatican City and dated to 250. From the beginning of the third century "Sun of Justice" was used as a title of Christ. |
Another major contribution to the study of Christian–Mithraic artistic parallels was made by the Dutch scholar M. J. Vermaseren. He argued that certain Christian sarcophagi scenes portraying the soul’s ascent into heaven—often assumed to illustrate the biblical episode of Elijah being carried into heaven by fiery chariots and horses—were in fact indebted to Mithraic imagery. According to Vermaseren, these scenes drew upon representations of Mithras’ own celestial ascent, in which the god was carried upward in the chariot of Helios, the sun god. Vermaseren further identified classical deities as sources for specific Christian details: the blazing flames surrounding Elijah’s chariot were modeled on solar attributes of Helios, while the flowing Jordan River owed much to the figure of Oceanus, god of the world-encircling waters.
Building on these insights, Robin Jensen has noted how early Christian art frequently depicted Christ with unmistakable solar attributes. In some cases, Christ was shown almost identically to the sun god of Mithraic and Greco-Roman iconography. Jensen cites as a striking example the famous early fourth-century mosaic from the mausoleum of the Julii beneath Saint Peter’s Basilica in Rome. The mosaic depicts a radiant charioteer riding across a golden sky, crowned with a halo of solar rays. Scholars have long debated whether this image represents “Christus-Helios” or perhaps Christ set deliberately as Sol’s rival. In either case, the symbolism is clear: Christ appears as the true Sun, the divine light of the world.
This visual interpretation corresponded closely to biblical and patristic traditions that employed solar imagery. The Gospel of John speaks of Christ as the light shining in the darkness (John 1:1–5), while Ephesians exhorts believers, “Christ shall give you light” (Eph. 5:14). Clement of Alexandria went so far as to call Christ the “Sun of Righteousness,” describing him as the divine charioteer who traverses creation, overturning the cosmic order by “changing sunset into sunrise and crucifying death into life.” Such associations made the adoption of solar imagery both natural and theologically resonant in early Christian visual culture.
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| Icon of Archangel Gabriel, tempera and gold on wood panel with raised borders, Holy Monastery of Saint Catherine, Sinai, Egypt, second half of the 13th century. This masterpieces of Byzantine art depicts the archangel Gabriel wearing a light green tunic and a himation covered with golden highlights over a golden background. A series of concentric circles lead the the observer's eyes to the eyes of the figure. |
Deman highlighted several of these patterns. He drew particular attention to the “creative sacrifice” of Mithras—his slaying of the cosmic bull—and its parallels to the sacrificial death of Christ. In both traditions, the sacrifice was often associated with the timing of the vernal equinox, symbolizing the renewal of life and cosmic order. In artistic depictions, the sun and moon were frequently shown above the scene in symmetrical balance, emphasizing the cosmic significance of the event.
Beneath these Mithraic tauroctony scenes, the twin figures Cautes and Cautopates were almost always depicted: one raising a torch to the sky, the other lowering it toward the earth. In Christian crucifixion imagery, Deman observed, similar symmetrical figures appear—often represented as the Virgin Mary and John the Evangelist, or alternatively as two Roman soldiers, Longinus with his spear and Stephaton offering vinegar from a sponge. In some instances, the clothing of these Christian figures even echoed the garments of the Mithraic twins.
Deman also noted other parallels: the twelve apostles surrounding the crucifixion scene bore a striking resemblance to the twelve zodiacal signs so prominent in Mithraic iconography, while the cross-legged postures of certain Christian figures recalled poses common in Mithraic depictions. These echoes suggest not simply isolated borrowings but the persistence of a shared symbolic language in which cosmic order, sacrifice, and salvation were articulated through strikingly similar visual codes.
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| The Cambrai Madonna (Notre-Dame de Grace), Italo-Byzantine, tempera on cedar panel (backed by a modern panel), circa 1340, 14 by 10 3/8 inches, Cathedrale de Cambrai, France |
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| The Vision of St Sergius, Tempera on panel and gilding. Russia. Early 17th century, State Hermitage Museum. 1959 |
With Constantine’s proclamation of Christianity as the official religion of the Roman Empire, the Church no longer needed to conceal itself behind cryptic or secretive signs. Under Constantine’s reign, the imperial capital itself was moved to the ancient city of Byzantium—soon to be renamed Constantinople—and with this shift came a profound transformation in the visual culture of Christianity. From the early third century through the end of the fifth century, Christian art underwent a decisive evolution, consolidating into what we now recognize as the Byzantine style.
This new art was almost exclusively focused on religious themes. Its primary concern was the accurate liturgical representation of the Church’s doctrine of salvation. Yet, even as Christian art asserted its distinctiveness, it retained strong influences from the older “oriental” traditions of stylized, symbolic representation. Flat, highly ornamental surfaces and abstracted forms—hallmarks of Mithraic art—continued to shape the Byzantine visual vocabulary. These features imbued Christian images with a heightened sense of spirituality and mysticism, directing the viewer’s gaze not to naturalistic realism but to transcendent truths.
The figure of Christ himself exemplified this transformation. Now depicted crowned with a nimbus, enthroned or standing in solemn authority, his image bore unmistakable echoes of Mithra. Over time, the haloed nimbus was extended not only to Christ but also to the Virgin Mary, the apostles, and later saints, visually placing them within the same radiant framework of divine power. These holy figures, often rendered in luminous mosaics, were arranged hierarchically within the interiors of Byzantine churches. At the highest level stood God the Father, the Pantocrator, as the ultimate source of authority; below him were angels and archangels; and beneath them the saints. This strict hierarchy of representation mirrored, in striking fashion, the cosmic order of Mithraic cosmology, where divine figures and celestial beings were arranged in ordered tiers.
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| Mosaic from Basilica of San Vitale in Ravenna, Italy, 6th century, showing the Emperor Justinian and Bishop Maximian of Ravenna surrounded by clerics and soldiers. Here the graphic statement conveys the unification of the church and state. |
The thematic content of Byzantine art reflected two inseparable pillars: religion and empire. Under Emperor Justinian (r. 527–565), the unity of the empire was deemed inseparable from unity of faith. His religious policy, as reflected in the writings of contemporaries such as John Malalas, Theophanes, and John of Ephesus, was uncompromising: pagan Mithraists, even those occupying high positions, were persecuted and pressured to abandon their faith. A symbolic turning point came in 529 CE when Justinian placed the Neoplatonic Academy of Athens—the last major bastion of pagan philosophy and, by extension, Mithraic thought—under state control, effectively extinguishing a tradition that had endured for nearly a millennium.
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| Portable Mosaic Icon with Saint John Chrysostom. Byzantine (Constantinope), circa 1325, miniature mosaic set in wax on wood panel, with gold, gilded copper and multicolored stones, Dumbarton Oaks, Washington, D.C. |
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Detail of San Vitale's apse mosaic, dating from 526-47 AD. It depicts a youthful Christ the Redeemer sitting on the sphere of the world, flanked by San Vitale (who is being handed a martyr's crown), two angels, and Bishop Ecclesius, who founded the church.
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Nevertheless, the Church remained deeply concerned about the authenticity and legitimacy of its sacred imagery. Icons had to be faithful not only to liturgical themes but also to the presumed historicity of Christian events. This concern is illustrated in a seventh-century dialogue recorded at the Council of Nicaea by John of Thessaloniki, where a Christian interlocutor defended iconography against pagan critique:
“We… make images of men who have existed and have had bodies—the holy servants of God—so that we may remember them and reverence them, and we do nothing incongruous in depicting them such as they have been. We do not invent anything as you [pagans] do.”
Thus, while Byzantine icons drew upon a symbolic heritage indebted to earlier pagan traditions, they were justified within Christian theology as faithful representations of historical persons and events. This tension between inherited forms and claims of authenticity would shape the enduring debate over sacred images in Byzantine Christianity.
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| Painting: the Virgin implore Christ, The Church St. Saviour in Chora - 14th Cent. |
Certain Mithraic figures and images, however, were regarded with deep hostility by the Christian Church. One of the most striking examples was the representation of Zurvan, the god of infinite time, often depicted with a lion’s head, a human body, and encircling serpents. Such imagery, with its associations of cosmic power and cyclical destiny, was anathema to the Christian insistence on linear time and divine providence. An illustrative anecdote survives in which St. Andrew the Fool stood before the great bronze doors of the Senate, gazing at a relief—perhaps of Zurvan entwined with writhing serpents. When a passerby mocked him for contemplating such a pagan image, Andrew replied with cutting ferocity:
“You fool in your spirit! I am looking at the visible idols, but you are a spiritual ‘thong-leg,’ and a serpent, and of the viper’s brood, for your soul’s axles and your heart’s spiritual legs are crooked and going to Hades.”
This exchange illustrates both the vehement Christian rejection of pagan cosmology and the rhetorical strategies by which early saints asserted spiritual authority over the lingering presence of Mithraic iconography.
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| Enthroned Virgin and Child Between Constantine and Justinian. |
Yet as Christianity spread more openly through the empire and no longer required secrecy, the Church gradually reduced its reliance on veiled symbols. The meanings of those symbols that remained were now inscribed directly onto icons. This shift was codified at the Council in Trullo (692), which proclaimed that symbolic “first drafts of the truth” had lost their necessity once divine grace and truth could be represented directly in the human figure of Christ, the Logos incarnate. In other words, the Church affirmed that it no longer needed indirect symbols when it could portray Christ himself.
Nevertheless, Byzantine art continued to inherit much from its Mithraic predecessors—not least in its aesthetic emphasis on the mineralization and stylization of form. Figures were deliberately abstracted: their individuality suppressed, their bodies elongated, their faces flattened, their gestures formalized. Most strikingly, the eyes of holy figures stared directly outward, meeting the gaze of the viewer with an intensity meant to evoke a spiritual confrontation. The backgrounds, often gilded with radiant gold leaf, eliminated natural space and placed the figures within an eternal, otherworldly realm.
This highly formalized approach also encouraged a fusion of word and image. The increasing use of inscriptions on icons—intended to clarify or interpret the meaning of symbols—opened new avenues for the development of compositional design. Some inscriptions were reduced to symmetrical abbreviations, functioning as decorative seals; the monograms of Christ (IC XC) and the Virgin (MP ΘΥ) are prominent examples. In a modern graphic design vocabulary, these served as precursors of the logotype. Even in narrative scenes such as the Crucifixion or the Nativity, where the subject matter was already obvious, inscriptions remained and were eventually integrated into the icon itself, creating a balance of image and text.
This integration of calligraphy and imagery gave rise to a distinctively Byzantine aesthetic, one in which sacred texts were not merely explanatory but formed part of the visual rhythm of the artwork. The result was a unified mode of communication that blended visual symbolism with linguistic expression—an approach that foreshadows many principles of modern graphic design.
Still, some Mithraic motifs persisted within Byzantine art, enduring despite official resistance. Among these were the cosmic symbols of the sun and moon, as well as darker emblems such as the skull of death, or allegorical figures of Night and Dawn. Recast within a Christian framework, these images reveal how deeply late antique religious art was shaped by shared cultural traditions, even when those traditions were officially condemned.
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| Mosaic of Zoe and Constantine IX Monomachos, Hagia Sophia - 6th Cent. |
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| CHRIST PANTOKRATOR, Mid-12th century, mosaic Cefalu, Basilica. |
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| Christianization of the Bulgarians. Miniature 57 from the Constantine Manasses Chronicle, 14 century: Christianization of the Bulgarians. |
Many icons have interesting stories behind them. For example, Saint Gregory, Bishop of Agrigentum, was born on the island of Sicily. As archbishop, he led the life of an ascetic monk, fervently observing monastic vows. While he was in church, some vicious people bribed a harlot to go to his chambers. They then led her out and accused him of fornication. The Pope, after reading the charges, did not want to see the accused, and gave orders to remand him to prison. The saint endured his humiliation humbly, dwelling in constant prayer. After two years, a clairvoyant Elder named Mark who did not believe the charges, persuaded the Pope to convene a Council to decide Gregory's case. At the invitation of the Pope, many clergy from the city of Agrigentum came to the Council. At the Council the woman came to her senses and told the Council the whole truth. St Gregory returned in honor to his own cathedral, and surrounded by the love of his flock, he guided the Church until his own peaceful demise.
The Iconoclasts Controversy
In the early 8th century the iconoclasts (those who wanted to destroy religious images) . pointed to the clear language of the Second Commandment, which condemns idolatry, and demanded that all the figurative representations to be destroyed. Both iconoclasts and their opponents, iconodules, were of the opinion that Christianity could not flourish unless it settled the question of figurative representations. As an iconodule, St. John of Damascus resorted to the Neoplatonic-Mithraist doctrine, and argued that since God had himself incarnated into the image of Christ, the creation of the figurative icons was permissible. The iconoclasts, on the other hand, by using the Monophysitism doctrine, argued that since the nature of Christ is identical and indistinguishable from the essence of God, any figurative representations would be culpable of blasphemy. Finally, Emperor Leo III, the Isaurian (c. 680–741), promulgated a diktat against the idolization of icons. Although Leo’s decision was chastised by the pope, the emperor strictly enforced iconoclasm at Constantinople and this policy was reinforced by his son Constantine V (718–75). The policy was halted during the reign of Empress Irene, when the iconodules at the second Council of Nicaea, in 787 condemned the iconoclasts. Nevertheless, the condemnation of icons were reestablished under the last iconoclast Emperor Theophilus (829-42). At last, under the patronage of Empress Theodora II (d. 867?) the Council of Orthodoxy, held in 843 put an end to iconoclasm, although not all the iconoclast opposition disappeared overnight.
The lifting of the ban on icons was followed by the Macedonian Renaissance, beginning with the reign of Emperor Basil I at the end of the ninth century and lasted throughout the next century. During this period new churches like the Hosios Lukas Monastery in Greece and the Nea Moni Katholikon in Chios were built, and the Byzantine art flourished again. After the battle of Manzikert at the second half of the eleventh century and the subsequent loss of Asia Minor to the Turks, the Komnenoi dynasty who were great art enthusiasts revitalized the cultural life of empire. But, eight hundred years of uninterrupted Byzantine culture were brought to an abrupt end in 1204 with the sacking of Constantinople by the knights of the Fourth Crusade, a disaster from which the Empire never recovered.
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| St George Icon from the Museum of the Hellenic and Byzantine Institute attached to the Church of St George of the Greeks |
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| Tsar Boris I meeting the disciples of Saints Cyril Tsar Boris I meeting the disciples of Saints Cyril and Methodius |
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Krum feasts with Nikephoros' scull
Krum feasts with his nobles, while the servant (right) is bringing the scull of Nikephoros already made a drinking cup full of wine. Khan Krum captured the Byzantine emperor Nikephoros I, had him decapitated, and transformed the imperial skull into a drinking vessel.
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| Ecumenical Council of Nicea. The scroll contains the first half of the Greek text of the Nicene-Constantinopolitan Creed. During the first council of Nicaea in 325 CE, the Emperor Constantine urged the bishops to include the term homoousion — the Greek word meaning "of one substance," which was used to express the relation in the one Godhead of the Father and the Son and affirm that Jesus was fully divine. The profession of faith was solidified 56 years later at the Council of Constantinople. At center: Emperor Constantine, who legalized Christianity in the Roman Empire and became its patron . At far left with the “beehive” hat is Spyridon of Trimythous (though his beard is somewhat darker here than usual, and his hat, though its usual shape, is made more “fancy” than the customary shepherd’s “woven basketwork” texture found in most of his images); At left beside Constantine is (with the flat-ended beard) Athanasius the Great of Alexandria; At right (beside Constantine) is Paphnutius the Confessor; At far right is Alexander, Patriarch of Constantinople. |
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| Candlemas. Enamel. The end of XII-beginning of XIII centuries. Georgia. State Museum of Art of Georgia, Tbilisi |
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| Byzantine icon of the XV century, tempera on the tree 44.45 x 42.2 cm. Stored in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York |
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| Icona d'Emmanuel Tzanes Bounialis, del segle XVII, ( Museu de Pavlos i Alexandra Kanellopoulou, Atenes). |
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| Duccio di Buoninsegna, Siena school, The Presentation of the Lord, XIII century |
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| The invention. Mosaic of the triumphal arch of the Basilica of Santa Maria Maggiore in Rome. |
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| The nails and spear, which caused Jesus' death , have caused intolerable pain through her mother's heart. In this icon of the Virgin, which is called "Softening the Evil Hearts". The artist depicts Mary with seven swords stuck in her heart. |
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| The Virgin Mary and Joseph the Betrothed, according to the the Russian orthodox tradition, appeared together with the infant Jesus in Jerusalem. They were to bring in the Temple of the Most High God, as a token of gratitude for their first-born, a small sacrifice. This is based on the world of the Old Testament laws, in which Jewish women were prohibited to visit the Temple after the birth of a boy for forty days, and after the birth of a girl for eighty days. At the end of this period, the mother and child were to appear to the priests to offer the Lord a thanksgiving and purifying sacrifice. |
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| The miniature of the Basilic II's Momology, the first quarter of XI in the Vatican Library (Vat. Gr., 1613)
The iconography of the Presentation was based on the narrative in Luke 2, 22-39. The key act is the transfer of the Infant by his mother to Simeon, while Joseph the Betrothed is depicted behind her back carrying two pigeons in his hands. Behind Simeon is the prophetess Anna holding a scroll in her hand.
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| The Holy Trinity, Greek Orthodox Byzantine Icon |
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| Crucifixion of Christ XVI century. Byzantine Museum in Athens |
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| Siberian trinity icon of three-faced Jesus |
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| Christ with Three Faces (The Trinity) / Anonymous (Netherlandish School, c 1500 |
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| The Holy Trinity, Museo Nacional del Virreinato, Tepozotlán, Edo. de México. |
- Franz Cumont, The Mysteries of Mithra, Dover Publications, 1956, ISBN-10: 0486203239
- Vermaseren, M. J. , A Unique Representation of Mithras, Vigiliae Christianae, Vol. 4, No. 3 (Jul., 1950), : BRILL
- Vermaseren, M.J., Corpus Inscriptionum et Monumentorum Religionis Mithriacae, The Hague, Martinus Nijhoff, 1956, 2 vols. The standard collection of Mithraic reliefs.
- Jensen, Robin Margaret. Face to Face: Portraits of the Divine in Early Christianity. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2005.
- Bjørnebye , Jonas, “Hic locus est felix, sanctus, piusque benignus” The cult of Mithras in fourth century Rome, Dissertation for the degree of philosophiae doctor (PhD), Faculty of Arts, University of Bergen, Norway, 2007
- Derman, A. (1971). Hinnells, John R.. ed. “Mithras and Christ: Some Iconographical Similarities,” in Mithraic Studies, vol. 2. Manchester University Press. pp. 510-7.
- Henry Maguire, The Profane Aesthetic in Byzantine Art and Literature, Dumbarton Oaks Papers, Vol. 53 (1999), Dumbarton Oaks, Trustees for Harvard University
- Michelis, P. A. , BYZANTINE ART AS A RELIGIOUS AND DIDACTIC ART, The paper presented at the 13th International Congress of Byzantine Studies held at, Oxford in September 1966
- Barnard, Leslie William ,The Graeco-Roman and oriental background of the iconoclastic controversy Volume 5 of Byzantina Neerlandica, BRILL, 1974 , ISBN9004039449
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