Christian Symbols Research Articles

The Megachurch in the Landscape: Adapting to Changing Sale and Managing Integrated Green Space in Texas and Oklahoma, USA

Christian megachurches in Texas and Oklahoma, of 4000 weekly attendance or greater, vary in green space design from impenetrable to highly accessible, and from predominantly mowed lawn to sophisticated plans incorporating a variety of outdoor recreational and ritual spaces. The most complex layouts include sites for baptism and prayer, as well as small natural areas. Conscious expression of practical theology or Christian symbolism in the green space is correlated to higher landscape connectivity and diversity. The recent appearance of large church campuses, exceeding 50 ha, has resulted in sporadic innovation, while for many large congregations green space remains an underutilized resource. Five theological questions for religious campus planners include how does green space: 1) express God's beauty; 2) honor providential environmental services; 3) teach about the relationship between God, humanity, and the environment; 4) provide connections among God, nature, the congregation and the neighbors; and 5) provide for the needs of others?

Die Datierung und die Funktion einer Kleinbronze mit paganen und christlichen Merkmalen

The Archeological Institute of the University of Erlangen in Germany owns, among other items, a small bronze pendant consisting of two parts, i. e. a very simple bull protome with a compact Maltese cross on top, and a lower part with a lunula which encircles a second cross with rounded ends. These features show a mixture of pagan and Christian belief. No details are known about this pendant, as it has been bought on an auction in 1992. A comparison with similar bull protomes gave no results, as they also lacked their context, so the dating had to be established from the specific features of the pendant, i. e. a Greek inscription with small characters and its wording „ΚΕ ΒΟΗΘΙ ΤΟΙC ΑΛΟΓΟΙC“, the shape of the bull protome and the shape of the crosses.The inscription was not explicit for a specific time and the shape of the bull protomes evaluated by Sande led to an approximate dating of some bull protomes to the 6th century AD. But comparing the cross forms with coins and other well dated objects proved that their specific shape was only in use between the mid-6th and mid-7th centuries. As the inscription asks God to help the animals, the pendant was probably intended to protect horses as the most valuable animals against accidents and the bad eye. For this purpose the artist or owner didn’t rely on Christian symbols alone, but resorted to the long tradition of pagan symbols, thus demonstrating that, at least in the provinces, the official religion still did not cover all aspects of life.

Cliffs as Crosses: The Problematic Symbology of Colin McCahon

This paper examines the schism between intended message and reception in the case of New Zealand artist Colin McCahon (1919–1987). McCahon was heavily influenced by Christianity, for him linked inextricably to a message of ecological conservation, and he considered painting to be a prophetic task. As such, McCahon hoped to bring about the religious and behavioural transformation of his audience. McCahon’s Necessary Protection artworks use Christian symbols as a means of communicating the importance of faith as well as his fear of environmental degradation and the necessity of loving one’s homeland. However, McCahon’s complex symbolic lexicon has often proven to be too esoteric to have the intended affect on its intended audience.

Writing History, Shaping Images in Later Roman Empire

Arnaldo Momigliano drew our attention on the fact that Christians in Late Antiquity did not try to Christianize ordinary political history, i.e. the imperial realm. Indeed, history writing, all the way to Procopius, remained staunchly traditional. A similar phenomenon is present in visual arts. The absence of Christian themes and symbols on Constantine’s triumphal arch in Rome has often been understood as a proof of Constantine’s phony conversion to Christianity. However, if we look closer at the iconography of imperial art throughout the 4th century, we shall discover that it rarely, if ever, puts an emphasis on religious convictions of the ruler (which may have been taken for granted).

ICON, LOVE AND THE POSSIBILITY OF THE OTHER

Is it possible to believe in God and speak about God with intellectual integrity in ourpost-modern world with its apparent cultural disintegration of Christian symbols,language and rituals? The article wants to examine the profound critique of theFrench philosopher, Jean Luc Marion on western metaphysics, and his renewalof the phenomenological tradition of Husserl and Heidegger, to explore if he canopen a way forward for theology in our postmodern cultural context. Marion claimsthat there are phenomena that can be received that exceeds being and thought,making it possible to contextualize theology as a non-metaphysical possibility. Thecritical question that Marion must answer to accomplish his purpose is: can he trulyovercome metaphysics, or is he just affirming that which he criticizes?

Inele cu pentagramă

Abstract The studies from Xth and XIth centuries are based almost exclusively on archaeological findings and particularly the study of cemeteries. Plate finger rings were decorated with various geometrical, vegetable or zoomorphic. A variant of the ring finger is oval or circular plaque, carved with a pentagram. Pentagram ring is considered one of the most popular jewelery from Byzantine cultural area in the second half of the tenth century and the first half of the eleventh century. Rings with this setting occur discoveries in Bulgaria, Dalmatia, Hungary and Slovakia. P. Gatev placed pentagram rings in type II-1 and it dates from the tenth century and the first half of the following. G. Atanasov and V. Grigorov said that pentagram rings (type III) are quite common in old Bulgarian culture. Pentagram is required after the fourth century as one of the main Christian symbols. Is defined as an expression of geometric notion of man-four angles representing limbs and a head. At Odartsi in grave 286 was discovered a skeleton of a child with pit board and covered with lithic material. Inventory: left hand, ring pentagram (type IX A), occurs in association with ring loop, buttons with vertical splice. Elliptical plate playing a circle which is a pentagram surrounded by dots. On both sides of the ring is two stars.

Les premiers films sur la shoah : les Juifs sous le signe de la Croix

Many films about what we would today call the Holocaust were made in the first five years after the war. However, many resorted to using Christian symbols to represent Jewish victims, and other films that attempted a greater candor were often suppressed or marginalized. This article is an attempt to explain the use of Christian imagery and the various political motivations behind it in the context of the emerging Cold War.

Korsfibler af Råhedetypen – En upåagtet fibeltype fra ældre vikingetid

Crucialform fibulas of Råhede typeAn overlooked fibula type from the Early Viking AgeMetal-detector archaeology has had astonishing consequences for our understanding of, in particular, the metal artefacts of the Late Iron Age. Completely new types have turned up, regional differences in others have become evident, unique specimen after unique specimen has seen the light of day, while other types stereotypically have been found time and again.In Denmark and Norway, a number of cruciform fibulas have been found, particularly during the last five years (figs. 1-2). The great majority of these are metal-detector finds with no associated context or date, but a few have been found during excavations of graves (no. 3) or market places (nos. 1 and 17). To date, there are 18-19 known examples, of which half are from Southern Jutland with a clear emphasis in the area close to Ribe. There is a single example from Kaupang in Norway whereas, surprisingly, none have been found at Haithabu in Southern Schleswig, despite the frequent metal-detector surveys here in recent years. Surprisingly, because there is normally great similarity between the find types seen at Haithabu and in the Ribe area.Cruciform fibulas of Råhede type are modelled on Carolingian brooches of the 9th century, but should doubtless be perceived as locally manufactured ornaments with Christian symbolism dating from the middle and late 9th century. Accordingly, they are an important factor in the discussion of when, how and where Christianity made its breakthrough in Denmark.Claus FeveileMuseum Sønderjylland

Assaying the Pope

The artist Francis Bacon vehemently denied that he was religious and yet in his art he employed numerous examples of Christian symbols, such as the Crucifixion and the Pope. The use of religious symbols by artists who profess either atheism or a mere lack of a religious interest is uncontroversial. However, Bacon did not use isolated examples of religious symbols: he employed them throughout his career. His use was ongoing and frequent and this raises questions about his motivation. I am not disputing his atheism but believe that his attitude towards religion was reactive and complex. Religion, with the existential issues it raises, needs to be addressed and this is what his art does. Bacon worked with and through religious ideas and symbols to express his unbelief. One indisputable and paradoxical notion is that, in order to articulate his unbelief, he was dependent on the very tradition that he denounced. Bacon spent the early part of his career, particularly the 1930s and 1940s, articulating his interpretations of the Crucifixion, before moving on to the symbol of the Pope, a subject that he concentrated on in the 1950s. For reasons of space I have limited my study to the symbol of the Pope. In his pursuit of the Pope, Bacon traps and strips him down to reveal “the scream of the abyss.”

Animated Texts

In this essay I argue for a shift away from the study of texts in the study of religions in order to facilitate a move towards the critical study of audiences and interpretive communities. Through an analysis of historical and contemporary materials relating to the lowland Christianized Philippines, I suggest that the meaning of Christianity and Christian texts and symbols in the Philippines has always been mediated by culturally and historically located audiences and interpreters. As such, in order to understand the transmission and authorization of Christian "truth" in the archipelago, special attention must be paid to the creative and agentive forces unintentionally unleashed by mission, colonialism and on-going processes of modernization and globalization. In the concluding part of the essay I raise some general questions and problems arising from this attentiveness to audiences and interpretive communities.

Salted with Fire. Biblical Allusions, Heraclitus and Judgement by Fire in Julio Cortázar’s ‘All Fires the Fire’

Julio Cortázar was extremely well read in ancient literature and philosophy. He collected editions and translations of Heraclitus and based the short story ‘Todos los fuegos el fuego’ (‘All Fires the Fire’) on his philosophy in which Fire steered the Universe. The enigmatic ‘obscure’ style of the Ephesian philosopher, his use of riddles and dark metaphors, his philosophy of language, and his philosophy of time (eternal recurrence) all fascinated Cortázar. He knew the Stoics ascribed the concept of ecpyrosis, final conflagration, to Heraclitus and he knew these ideas influenced Christian apocalyptic imagery and eschatological teachings. We argue that the metaphors and the experimental narrative of ‘All Fires the Fire’ (merging a modern story and a story set in Roman Antiquity, both ending in a final conflagration) are inspired by Heraclitus and by the Bible. This paper explores the interaction between the use Cortázar made of Heraclitus and the Christian traditions: the function of the biblical allusions (to Matthew 5:13; Revelation 22) he inserted in the story, to early Christian symbolism (the fish), and to an ancient Christian numerical riddle (888) on the name of Jesus taken from the Sibylline Oracles. In this way we hope to clarify his view of the reader as an intellectual accomplice of the author.1

Literate Inversions and Cultural Metaphors in Edgefield Stoneware

name firsthand by inscribing "Dave" on many of his stoneware vessels, along with other marks for the identification of the production location, the volume capacities of the pots, and etchings of short verses. Dave most likely attained lit eracy while working for one of his succession of owners, Abner Landrum, who operated local newspapers in the 1830s and 1840s (Vlach 1990a:77; Steen 1994:14-15). The open display of this literacy was audacious, as such capability by an enslaved laborer was illegal at the time (Manguel 1996:279-280; De Groft 1998:254). Joseph demonstrates in logical steps of analy sis the character of Dave's pottery production, the types of inscriptions he placed on his ves sels, and the fact that many instances of his signature on those goods are also accompanied by cross-mark inscriptions. As a result, the cross marks were likely not meant to function as the identifying mark of the individual artisan, as they were unnecessary for that purpose on a vessel that already presented his signature. The cross-mark inscriptions also appear on vessels in other contexts that indicate they were not used in a routinized way to identify a particular pottery production center in which the vessels were created. With such alternative explanations of the cross-mark purpose proving untenable, Joseph analyzes the ways in which such cross marks may have served to express a social group identity to which Dave subscribed. Surveying a number of potential social group affiliations that could inspire an individual in 19th-century Edgefield to utilize such cross-mark symbols as a communicative act etched into material culture, Joseph focuses principally on the possible influences of BaKongo culture and Christian symbolism. While ostensibly this may sound like a theme that has been thoroughly explored in African diaspora studies to date, the subject matter and analysis in this Edgefield case are new and fascinating. Whereas other analysts have examined contexts in which cross marks were etched into material culture for

O'Connor and Spencer in the Shadow of 9/11

O'Connor and Spencer in the Shadow of 9/11 Andrew Silver (bio) Flannery O'Connor in the Age of Terrorism: Essays on Violence and Grace. Ed. Avis Hewitt and Robert Donahoo. Knoxville: U of Tennessee P, 2010. xvii + 217 pp. $45.00 cloth. Elizabeth Spencer's Complicated Cartographies: Reimagining Home, the South, and Southern Literary Production. By Catherine Seltzer. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2009. Ix + 207 pp. $85.00 cloth. Avis Hewitt and Robert Donahoo begin their diverse new collection of essays, Flannery O'Connor in the Age of Terrorism: Essays on Violence and Grace, with the urgent hope that a contemporary meditation on O'Connor's violent aesthetics might help lead us from tragedy to grace after the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001. "Never in recent times," Avis Hewitt writes in his introduction, has O'Connor's violent artistry "seemed more apt than as our nation stood stunned in the aftermath of 9/11." Anthony Di Renzo promptly offers an unorthodox challenge to this hopeful project in the first chapter, arguing in his fine essay on apocalyptic violence that O'Connor's aesthetic might in fact share something in common with the fundamentalism of the 9/11 bombers. If the field of O'Connor studies "is to remain vital, relevant, and honest," he argues, "it must rethink fundamental questions about the violent fundamentalism at the heart of O'Connor's work. To do so, we must confront the shadow of orthodox Christianity and the potential madness in [End Page 147] apocalyptic mysticism—two things we have denied or explained away for the past forty years." Di Renzo's provocative plea that O'Connor scholars not "remain blind to or blasé about the horrific underside of O'Connor's traditional Christian symbolism" is, unfortunately, not taken up by the theologically oriented essays in the first (and strongest) third of the book. There's a generosity about these essays that comes from a deep, undisguised, and entirely refreshing love of O'Connor's craft, often wedded to a thoughtful and capacious spirituality. But this abiding love sometimes stiffens into apologia in the wake of 9/11: disturbing questions are occasionally acknowledged, unearthed, and promptly side-stepped in the interest of salvaging and defending the power of O'Connor's stories and the saving grace of her violence. Ralph C. Wood, for instance, in an otherwise compelling reading of O'Connor's work, dismisses unspecified criticism of its extreme violence by favorably comparing her work to that of Dostoevsky's Brothers Karamazov, where a little girl is "made to spend a subzero night in an outdoor privy, weeping and pleading for mercy from 'dear kind God.'" O'Connor's fiction is more humane by comparison, Wood improbably argues, because "almost no one in her work goes to death unwillingly." Unlike the open and unanswerable theological wounds of the despairing Ivan in Dostoevsky's "Rebellion," violence here is cleansing, metaphorical, and, as Di Renzo notes, packed with holy meaning. "A lot of people get killed in my stories," O'Connor famously wrote, "but nobody gets hurt." J. Ramsay Michaels similarly argues that "violence in O'Connor—and in the Bible—is a problem for some, not because it is gratuitous but because it is not. It has a definite purpose." The purpose of O'Connor's violence, of course, is to bring her characters to the mystery of grace—each tragedy a winnowing, a passion, a "covert rescue operation," as John D. Sykes Jr. puts it. The implications here for 9/11 and the "age of terrorism" are a little unnerving. The attack on New York's World Trade Center, Hewitt suggests, is the "large and startling figure" reminding us "that we are never safe." We would have been a better country, this logic suggests, if there had been somebody to bomb us every day of our nation's life. The defense of violence in this first section tends to ref lect O'Connor's own quarrel with her culture: we need to be knocked into grace because, as Christina Bieber suggests, "contemporary Western culture has devalued human life." Michaels argues that secularists flinch at O'Connor's violence "because of...

«Вечное Евангелие» в художественных хронотопах русской словесности

The article considers the status of chronotope as a new category of historical poetics (M. Bakhtin). The author sets up the problems of the analysis of imaginative space and time in the works of Russian classical writers. The Christian symbolism in Dostoevsky's and Turgenev's novels is unfolded; the occurrence of the Gospel and the phenomenon of Christ in Russian literature are emphasized.

Being Male Alone

Being Male Alone Gina Frangello (bio) Miracle Boy and Other stories. Pinckney Benedict. Press 53. http://www.press53.com. 244 pages; paper, $19.95. Pinckney Benedict is an interesting literary figure. He is a Christian whose work has been published in Esquire; he is the son of a Republican politician, attended Princeton, and was mentored by Joyce Carol Oates at Iowa, yet his fictional milieu is generally rural-poor, hardscrabble, and violent; he made an auspicious literary debut at the age of twenty-three and at one time was under a two book contract with publishing luminary Nan Talese, yet his new collection came out from the fab-but-very-small Press 53 after Talese dropped his contract in the recent publishing Armageddon. As if all this weren't paradoxical and complex enough, that collection—Miracle Boy and Other Stories—has met with mixed responses from the wildly enthusiastic to the vitriolic. Pulitzer Prize winner Elizabeth Strout calls it "amazing" and "exquisite" on the cover; Bookslut praised it as a collection of "mistakes gone terribly right"; and Dan Wickett's Emerging Writers Network was recently ablaze with criticism of Benedict's overtly Christian themes, with words like "saccharine" flying around the comments board. Benedict, while not a household name, is a writer whose work resonates deeply with his fans—and those fans are a diverse lot, from aficionados of Southern fiction or surrealism to those who enjoy genre-bending, for while Benedict's work is always literary, he doesn't color exclusively inside those lines but dabbles generously with about every genre at which you could swing a cat, save perhaps "romance." Stories of rural boyhood are pressed up against stories of talking birds, dogs turning into men, astronauts falling from the sky, and aliens learning to drive (and to "roll over in the clover.") It would be fair to say that, turning the pages of Miracle Boy—which Benedict told The Rumpus is his book that most closely reflects how his mind truly works—one is never sure what to expect plot-wise. Such wild divergence can, in the hands of lesser writers, lead to an uneven collection, a "throw everything you've got against the wall and hope something sticks" vibe. The fact that Miracle Boy never has that feel is a testament to Benedict's power as a writer, his immense authority over language and atmosphere, and a coherence and consistency of vision that threads throughout this work despite vast differences in plots. In fact, reading Miracle Boy, I began to believe that Benedict's experimentation with form and genre, which have been lauded in literary circles, as well as his Christian symbolism, which has sometimes been derided by those same circles, both, in the end, are more a part of these stories' shells than their hearts. Both are devices he uses skillfully and convincingly, but the core of these works seems more about exploring a deep well of male loneliness—for both loneliness and masculinity permeate nearly every line in this book like a heartbeat. The ages, lifestyles, even species may vary, but each character is a solitary island, even when in relationship with others. Sadness is a fundamental ingredient of all interactions, because all Benedict characters seem to understand, if on an unarticulated, unexamined gut level, that connection and even love are...well, "illusory" might be the wrong word (though sometimes the object of love may itself be illusory, such as when one of Benedict's young protagonists encounters a girl on whom he has a crush in the middle of a mountain waterfall), but at the very least transitory and fragile. We live and die alone. For all the Christian imagery, any concept of "God" seems to offer characters little joy or solace. Life is lonely. Life is violence. Life offers the opportunity for awkward, deeply felt tenderness, yes—best exhibited here in the relationships between fathers and sons—but even such tenderness is fraught with misunderstanding and isolation. If redemption-minded Christians and genre enthusiasts are grooving on this book, more power to them, but the core of Miracle Boy is a deeply existential one, powerfully rooted in a literary tradition less concerned...

The Persistence and Interaction of Multi-Ethnic Settlement Remnants in The Cultural Landscape

The paper deals with remnants of multi-ethnic settlement: their form, interaction and persistence. In the past, the Podlasie region, situated in northeastern Poland, was an area of multi-ethnic settlement. The interaction of cultures brought the emergence of a new, borderland culture. As the years have passed, the memory of the sources of regional and local traditions has disappeared. Elements of ethnic and religious traditions have spread and survived in the material structures of the rural landscape. The most significant traces of cultural interactions and at the same time the remnants of past landscape are high roadside wooden crosses with an additional small iron cross on their top, decorated with the crescent moon and sunbeams. The cross with half-moon has its beginnings in old Christian symbolism, regional history and tradition. The crescent was always accompanied by sunbeams and they meant sun and moon, day and night, Christ and Our Lady. Its material durability appears to be greater than the collective memory of the locals. The roadside wooden crosses embellished with iron crescent cross are an interesting part of regional heritage. The symbol of the crescent was common here for all Christian inhabitants and Tatars, unifying all Podlasie people. This uniting symbol is the most valuable remnant of the interaction of multi-ethnic settlement in the cultural landscape of the Podlasie. These days, the 300 years of tradition falls into oblivion, but regional cultural heritage can be saved through tourism-related product and marketing. In peripheral, economically neglected areas like the study case, the remnants may become an impetus to develop the local economy through recreation and tourism. Furthermore, making new tourism products based on natural and cultural values can be a good opportunity to restore precious elements of the historical landscape.

Veils, Crucifixes and Public Sphere: What Kind of Secularism? Rethinking Neutrality in a Post-Secular Europe

The Lautsi case attracted widespread attention in Europe and beyond. Though the issue in contention was a Christian symbol, the European Court of Human Rights (ECHR) judgements showed changes in assessment both about religion (in contrast with former cases regarding Muslim veils) and secularism (which did not have the same meaning for everyone). In light of those rulings, this paper reflects on the concepts of neutrality and secularism, and their normative implications for European citizens in terms of sense of belonging, solidarity, and cohesion. An open and plural public sphere, in which intercultural exchange can flourish, is crucial if Europe is serious about the integration of its immigrants, many of whom possess a Muslim background. A “post-secular” Europe may have to reconsider long-held stereotypes about religion, and nuance its self-understanding as “secular,” in a way that religious citizens can identify with Europe too. The discussion will draw on the ideas of Taylor, Casanova, Habermas, Weiler and Beck to illustrate some of the political, ethical and theoretical complexities of the Lautsi case in Italy, specifically issues to do with neutrality, secularism and the role of religion in the public sphere.

Religious Symbols on Early Christian Scandinavian Coins (ca. 995–1050): From Imitation to Adaptation

This article discusses the adaptation of Christian symbols derived from Anglo-Saxon, German, and Byzantine numismatic traditions in early Scandinavian coins produced in the first half of the eleventh century. It analyzes a few particular cases of such borrowings (the Agnus Dei, triquetra, and enthroned Christ) by placing them in specific political, religious, and cultural contexts that made foreign symbols both expected and meaningful in early Christian Scandinavian society. These case studies of numismatic imitations demonstrate that the people involved in the production of such coins were able not only to appropriate numismatic prototypes coming from abroad but also to adapt them to specific local contexts. Such thoughtful adaptation allowed Christian numismatic imagery to communicate effectively political and religious messages significant for Scandinavian kings and their bishops.

Marcos Zapata's Last Supper: A Feast of European Religion and Andean Culture

In Marcos Zapata's 1753 painting of the Last Supper in Cuzco, Peru, Christian symbolism is filtered through Andean cultural tradition. Zapata was a late member of the Cuzco School of Painting, a group comprised of few European immigrants and handfuls of mestizo and Indian artists. The painters in Cuzco learned mostly from prints of European paintings, and their style tends to blend local culture into the traditional painting of their conquistadors. Imagery was the most successful tool used by the Spaniards in their quest to Christianize the Andean population. By teaching locals to paint Christian subjects, they were able to infuse Christianity into Andean traditions. Zapata's rendering of the Last Supper utilizes this cultural blending while staying true to the Christian symbolism within the subject. Instead of the traditional lamb, Zapata's Last Supper features a platter of cuy, or guinea pig, an Andean delicacy stocked with protein as well as cultural significance. Cuy was traditionally a sacrificial animal at Inca agricultural festivals and in this way it offers poignant parallel to the lamb, as a traditional Christian sacrificial animal.

Navigating Christian space: Jews and Christian images in early modern German lands

This article explores some of the strategies used by late mediaeval and early modern Jews living in German lands to counter powerful and ubiquitous Christian images, symbols and holidays. Drawing on a variety of sources, including accounts written by converts from Judaism, Jewish attitudes to the cross, churches, church bells and Christmas are examined. While Jews were very much aware of the dangers of any open expression of their antagonism to Christendom, they developed a range of everyday acts of resistance, such as conscious avoidance of Christian places, linguistic strategies that included Hebrew puns on Christian terminology, and refraining from Torah study and instead reading ‘Toldot Yeshu’ on Christmas Eve.