Discussion Questions

Robin Jensen is quoted saying Christian art “proceeds from being primarily symbolic to illustrating biblical narratives, to presenting certain dogmatic developments…finally… iconic or portrait types.” What do those stages suggest about what early Christians believed was safest—or most fitting—to communicate about God in each period? JumpstartAnother way to ask: Jensen says Christian art moved from simple symbols, to Bible stories, to teaching doctrines, to portraits/icons. What do these changes show about what early Christians thought was safest or best to say about God at each time?

The teacher says the early Christians “didn’t talk about art very much,” had “no regulations,” but were clearly “against worshiping images.” What does that combination (freedom + a hard boundary) reveal about their assumptions regarding holiness, conscience, and the danger points of the human heart? JumpstartAnother way to ask: Early Christians had few rules about art, but strongly refused to worship images. What does that mix of freedom and a clear “no” show about how they saw holiness, conscience, and human temptation?

The “orant” figures (often women, hands lifted, head covered) are linked to prayer practices “you read about in Timothy,” and even used as portraits of deceased women. How does this art challenge modern instincts about women, modesty, and embodied prayer—and what would have to change in a typical evangelical church for this posture to feel normal rather than “weird”? JumpstartAnother way to ask: Orant art shows (often) women praying with raised hands and covered heads, and sometimes even shows dead women that way. How does this clash with how many churches today view women, modesty, and using the body in prayer, and what would need to change for it to feel normal?

The teacher notes that early Christians sometimes used familiar pagan motifs (like the Good Shepherd) but “imbued the subjects with their own symbolism,” and even shows a rare mosaic possibly portraying Christ like a sun god to say Christ is “the real bringer of light.” Where is the line between reclaiming cultural imagery for Christ and confusing Christ with the culture’s gods, and how would an early Christian likely decide that line? JumpstartAnother way to ask: Early Christians reused some pagan images but gave them new meaning for Christ (like calling Jesus the true light). How do you tell the difference between reusing culture to point to Jesus and accidentally blending Jesus with other gods, and how might early Christians decide?

Jonah and Noah appear repeatedly, and the group comments that early Christian art emphasizes salvation as “restoration and deliverance,” not mainly “getting a consequence of sin taken away.” If your church’s “default gospel” were forced to match the catacomb themes (deliverance, healing, rescue, resurrection), what would need to be corrected in your preaching, counseling, and self-understanding? JumpstartAnother way to ask: Catacomb art often highlights rescue, healing, deliverance, and resurrection (like Jonah and Noah). If your church’s “default gospel” had to match those themes, what would need to change in your preaching, counseling, and how you see yourself?

The teacher remarks that much early Christian art is “folk art,” not highly skilled, and that art often sacrifices realism to “communicate an idea.” What does that suggest about what early Christians thought mattered most in worship-adjacent life: excellence, clarity, faithfulness, cost, or something else—and how does that confront modern Christian branding and production values? JumpstartAnother way to ask: A lot of early Christian art was simple “folk art” that cared more about the message than realism. What does that suggest they valued most—beauty, clarity, faithfulness, cost, or something else—and how does that challenge today’s Christian branding and high production?

Clement of Alexandria advises Christians to use seals like a dove, fish, ship, lyre, or anchor, explicitly rejecting “the faces of idols,” and elsewhere discouraging swords because Christians are “people of peace.” What does that counsel reveal about early Christian identity in public life (letters, commerce, social signaling), and what modern equivalents (logos, jewelry, social media signals) might need similar scrutiny? JumpstartAnother way to ask: Clement told Christians to use peaceful symbols (dove, fish, anchor) and avoid idol faces and swords. What does that say about how Christians should show who they are in public life, and what modern signals (logos, jewelry, social media) might need the same kind of caution?

Origen says Christians avoid temples, altars, and images because they fear “degrading the worship of God and reducing it to the worship of material things,” and are “ready to suffer death” rather than debase their conception of God. How does this reasoning challenge modern Christian comfort with religious objects, sensory “atmosphere,” and even political-religious symbolism that can subtly relocate trust from God to visible props? JumpstartAnother way to ask: Origen said Christians avoided temples, altars, and images because they didn’t want worship to sink into worshiping material things, even if it cost their lives. How does that challenge our comfort with religious stuff, mood-setting “atmosphere,” and political-religious symbols that might shift trust from God to visible props?

Tertullian condemns Christian idol-makers who say, “I make, but I worship not,” because they still enable others’ worship. What current “respectable” Christian jobs, side-hustles, or partnerships might parallel this logic—profiting from something you wouldn’t personally do—while claiming moral distance? JumpstartAnother way to ask: Tertullian criticized Christians who made idols and said, “I make them, but I don’t worship them,” because they still helped others sin. What jobs or business ties today look like that—making money from something you wouldn’t do yourself while claiming you’re not responsible?

The teacher argues that after Constantine, Jesus is portrayed more as enthroned “Pantocrator,” with halos borrowed from pagan iconography, and a participant connects this shift to prayer becoming more like “a full-body bow before a king” rather than open-handed before a shepherd. In what specific ways might our pictures of Jesus (in art, songs, sermons, political imagination) be reshaping how we pray, obey, and relate to God—toward intimacy and trust, or toward distance and placating a ruler? JumpstartAnother way to ask: After Constantine, art often showed Jesus more like an enthroned ruler (Pantocrator), and that may have changed prayer from open trust to bowing before a king. How might our images of Jesus in art, songs, sermons, and politics be changing how we pray and obey—toward closeness and trust, or toward fear and keeping a ruler happy?