I have always thought the “red” icons produced in the region of the Russian icon painting village of Kholuy to be quite pleasant.  They are simple enough to look like folk art, but when done by an experienced painter, they have a charm often missing in more sophisticated icons.  They were once rather inexpensive, but that is changing as more people have come to appreciate them.

You will recall that many of them have a silver background that was generally originally tinted with a colored varnish to make it appear gold.  Often this varnish is removed when the icon is cleaned, and that of course also removes the “gold” effect, leaving the silver background instead.

Here are some good examples.

First, a “Smolensk” type icon of Mary:

(Courtesy of

And here is a “Lord Almighty”:

(Courtesy of

And finally a “John the Forerunner”:

(Courtesy of

These “red” icons, with their bright borders and stamped floral decoration, were very popular and widely sold.  They even turn up in the Balkan countries, including Romania — having been there for many long years.

If you are a regular reader here, you should be easily able to read the inscriptions on book and scroll, because the texts are common and we have seen them in previous postings.  The three icon types seen here were also previously discussed, and you will find those postings in the site archives.



The Sporuchnitsa Greshnuikh –– the “Guarantor/Surety of Sinners” type of Marian icon — was popular in the 19th – early 20th century.  The icon is characterized by the inscription that borders the central image.  The position of the hand of the Christ Child in this example is a bit unusual, in that he holds a scroll; generally he just touches his mother’s hand with both of his.

(Courtesy of

The inscription around the central image is:

Аз Споручница грешных к Моему Сыну; Сей дал Мне за них руце слышати Мя выну, да тии, иже радость выну Мне приносят, радоватися вечно чрез Меня испросят

Az Sporuchnitsa greshnuikh k moemy suiny; Cey dal mne za nikh rutse sluishati mya vuiny, da tii, izhe radost’ vuiny mne prinosyat, radovatisya vechno chrez menya isprosyat.

“I am the Surety/Guarantor of sinners for My Son; he has given me for them the hand [i.e. the assurance] to hear those who come to me;  that those who bring joy to me in coming shall rejoice eternally through me.”

No one really knows the origin of this icon.  An example, long ignored, was in the chapel behind the gates at the Nikolaevsk-Odrin Monastery in Orlov diocese.  It was old and dusty, and the icon had become so dark that its image was barely visible.

In the summer of 1844 the wife of a merchant named Pochepin, whose two-year-old son was having seizures, had a prayer service (moleben) before the icon, and her son got immediately better, so that gave the icon a reputation for miracle working.  Consequently the icon was cleaned up.  Later — in 1847-1848 — the icon was credited with saving people from a plague of cholera in the region, as well as with other supposed miracles.

There are two other icons under the same name celebrated in the Russian Orthodox calendar.  The first — the “Moscow” Surety of Sinners — is a copy of the Nikolaevsk-Odrin Monastery icon, and the copy also gained a reputation is miracle working.    Eventually placed in the Nikolo-Khamovnicheskaya Church in Moscow., it is said to have developed drops of healing oil on its surface in 1848, and a number of other cures are attributed to it by Russian Orthodox believers

There is also the “Koretskaya” Surety of Sinners icon, kept at the Holy Resurrection-Trinity Convent in Korets, Ukraine, where it is said to have been since the 17th century.  Examples of this type generally lack the inscription characteristic of the icon from Orlov diocese.


We recently examined an icon that included the image of Bishop Kyrill of Turov.  Today we will look at an uncommon icon type from the 16th century, based on a text by Kyrill.

(Russian State Museum, St. Petersburg)

The subject of this icon is Притча о хромце и слепце / Prichta o khromtse i sleptse —  “The Parable of the Lame Man and the Blind Man.”

If you look for the parable in the Bible, you will not find it.  It is a motif, however, found early on from India to Greece to Jewish literature — and of course it pops up again in the writings of Kirill of Turov.   In Kirill it is a sermon called “The Discourse on the Soul and the Body.”  Kirill intended it, however, as an attack on Bishop Feodor/Theodor of Rostov.

Kirill conflates the old tale of the lame man and the blind man with the story told in Matthew 21:33-46 about a man who puts others in charge of his vineyard while he travels, but they are dishonest and not only refuse to give the owner what is due him, but also kill his servants and his son.

The Parable depicted on the icon, however, is this:

A certain man (depicted as Jesus in the icon) made a vineyard, and put a fence and a gate around it.  He is afraid that if he puts an ordinary guard at the gate to protect it, it will not be secure.  So he decides to place a lame man (the body) and a blind man (the soul) at the gate, thinking that if a robber comes, the lame man will see him and the blind man will hear him.  And the owner thinks that the lame man and blind man will not be able to steal the grapes (blessings/wealth) themselves, because the lame man cannot walk into the vineyard, and the blind man cannot see what is there.  So putting these two in charge, the owner thinks the vineyard secure from theft.

It happens, however, that the two guards smell the delicious grapes, and the blind man devises a plan:  The blind man will take the lame man on his shoulders, and the lame man can direct the blind man.  If the owner suspects them, the blind man will say that of course he cannot see to steal, the the lame man will say that he is obviously unable to walk into the vineyard and steal.  Thus the two enter the vineyard — with the lame man on the blind man’s shoulders — and steal the grapes.

When the owner discovers the theft, each blames the other, one saying that if the blind man had not carried him, he would have been unable to steal, and the other saying that if the lame man had not ridden on his shoulders and directed him, there would have been no theft.

In spite of their protestations, the owner had his slaves beat them both and cast them into prison.

Kirill’s surface interpretation of this parable is that the owner of the vineyard is God, seen in the person of Jesus; the vineyard is the world and the blessings and wealth in it, which belong to God to dispense;  the fence around the vineyard is the commandments of God.  The servants of the owner are the angels.

The lame man is the human body, and the blind man the soul.  Placing them at the vineyard gate meant God gave them power over the earth, within the bounds of his commandments.  When man broke those commandments, his soul is brought before God, and says it is not he, but rather the body that has committed the offense.  So the soul is kept in prison until the Second Coming, when the dead will be resurrected and soul and body will be judged together, and sent into everlasting torture in Hell.

In the icon, we see all of this illustrated.  In the center we see Jesus putting lame man and the blind man at the gate to guard the vineyard.  Then we see the lame man on the blind man’s shoulders, as they steal grapes (blessings and wealth) inside.  At right, Jesus expels the untrustworthy pair from the vineyard.

At the top, we see the judgment by Jesus.  At right the soul is kept in a dark place until the resurrection.

At the bottom of the icon, we  see the man — as the unity of body and soul — being driven into Hades by a punishing angel.  And finally — in Hades — we see the body and the soul there for eternal punishment.

The real meaning hidden behind the allegory, however, was the bitter conflict between Kirill and Bishop Feodor/Theodore of Rostov.  It is all a fight over religio-political control, and as we know, from the time of Kievan Rus to present-day Russia, religion and politics have never been separate in that part of the world.

The situation was, some accounts say, that Prince Andrey Bogoliuskiy wanted  to have a bishop in Vladimir who would be entirely independent of the control of the Metropolitan of Kiev.  He and Feodor supposedly cooperated in a scam in which Theodore went to the Patriarch in Constantinople to be consecrated, telling the Patriarch that the Metropolitan of Kiev was dead, so the place was without a Metropolitan.  When the Kiev Metropolitan found out what had happened, he excommunicated Theodore of Rostov, and so the plan failed.  In Kirill’s text,  Feodor is the blind man (the soul), and the lame man is Andrey Bogoliubskiy, whom Feodor talks into the deception.  Feodor was eventually accused of heresy and condemned to death.  He died c. 1170.


In contemporary English-speaking society, even those quite unfamiliar with the Bible know the term “Good Samaritan,” used to describe a kind stranger who offers help to someone in need.  It originates in a parable told by Jesus in the Gospel called “of Luke,” (10:30-37) in the New Testament.  In Russian iconography, it is generally called Притча о добром самарянине / Pritcha o dobrom samaryanine — “The Parable of the Good Samaritan.”

The point of the parable is that one’s neighbor is whoever shows concern for one’s well-being by actually helping.

Traditional Eastern Orthodox iconography, however — based on opinions of various Church Fathers, etc. — distorts the parable into something quite different — an historical allegory from the supposed “fall” of humankind to the resurrection of Jesus and beyond.

There is a very interesting 14th century example found in the narthex of the Pech Patriarchate, in Serbia.  You can see it here — the narrow and long bottom segment on the ceiling, just above the curve of the arch:

It illustrates the tale in brief, beginning at left, as the inscription says:



“A certain man going from Jerusalem to Jericho among thieves fell…”

We see the man setting out at far left.  Then he is attacked by — not ordinary thieves in this fresco, but by demons — devils.  We can see that they are devils because they not only have naked, hairy bodies, but they also have the hair standing up to a point high above their heads, which is the stereotypical way of depicting demons in Slavic Orthodoxy, though in traditional Russian iconography they are commonly quite black.  So this is not a straightforward illustration of the parable, but an allegorical interpretation.

This transformation of the parable began as early as John Chrysostom, who in his Homily 15 on Matthew mentioned the Samaritan, and then talked of people fallen not among thieves but among demons and beset by anger.

The interpretation of the parable in Orthodoxy became that the man traveling from Jerusalem to Jericho is Adam — the first man, and representative of humanity.  He leaves Jerusalem — interpreted as Paradise — when he falls into sin.  He then travels through the dangers of the fallen world (represented by the road to Jericho), beset by demons — who also represent sin and human passions — and is overcome by them.

Next we see the man left beaten and near naked by the side of the road.  Two men  pass by, see him, do nothing, and walk on.  The one at left is identified by title as
СВЯЩЕННИК/SVYASHCHENNIK,  a priest.  The second at right is titled ЛЕВИТЬ/LYEVIT’ — a Levite.

This is interpreted as Adam/Man falling wounded under the assaults of demons, of sin and the passions on his journey through life.  They rip the “garment of grace” from him.  The Priest and Levite represent the Old Testament Law of Moses and the Priesthood of Aaron, which cannot ultimately help the wounded man in Eastern Orthodox belief.  In some examples, they are represented by an Old Testament prophet — Moses or another, depending on the version — and by John the Forerunner or Baptist — who supposedly do not stop to help the wounded man because God has another planned helper.

That other helper — a Samaritan — comes walking along, sees the poor man lying by the road, and begins to aid him.  Just as the iconography has transformed the thieves into devils, it now transforms the Samaritan into Jesus, with the distinctive cross in his halo.

Jesus treats the man’s wounds — the effects of sin — by pouring on oil and wine, which are interpreted as the New Testament and the mercy of God.   He bandages the man and takes him along.  Though in the biblical parable he places the man on a beast to carry him, the iconography here uses another interpretation — that the “beast” is the body of Jesus.  That is why we see Jesus carrying him, rather than the man being placed on an ass.

In the final scene, Jesus has brought the man to an inn, where in the morning he gives two coins to the innkeeper, telling him to take care of the wounded man, and promising that later when he returns, he will pay the innkeeper for any additional expenses for that care.  The two coins are interpreted as the Bible and Tradition (or by others as the Old and New Testaments).  The inn represents the Church, and the innkeeper the clerics and teachers of the Church.  The morning is interpreted as the Resurrection and Ascension of Jesus, and his promise to return is seen as the Last Judgment, when people will be recompensed according to their deeds.

In some examples, the man traveling from Jerusalem to Jericho is shown as young at the beginning of his journey, but as old, grey, and bearded as he progresses — he is aged by sin.

Now all of this rather convoluted interpretation is cobbled together from the opinions of various early “Church Fathers,” etc.

Clement of Alexandria identified the Samaritan with Jesus in his treatise on the rich man in Mark 10, and the two coins as the reward the angels will receive for their services to mankind.

Origin — as described by Jerome — said he received an interpretation of the parable from an “old presbyter.”  This interpretation is much the same as that found in Eastern Orthodoxy, with these equivalencies:

The man traveling = Adam
Jerusalem = Paradise
The robbers = “the hostile powers,” i.e. demons
The Priest = the Law of Moses
The Levite = the prophets
The Samaritan = Jesus
The wounds = disobedience
The beast on which the Samaritan places the man = the body of Jesus
The inn = the Church
The two coins = the Father and the Son
The innkeeper is the “chairman” or authority of the Church
The Samaritan’s promise to return = the Second Coming

Origin recognized this as an allegory rather than the primary meaning of the parable, and did not agree with everything in the “old presbyter’s” interpretation.

Now interestingly, the roots of the allegory may lie in docetic and Gnostic sources.  An old Syriac manuscript — attributing docetic views to Marcion — says that Jesus

“…first appeared between Jerusalem and Jericho, like a human in form, image and likeness, but without our body” (British Museum cod. Add. 17215, fol. 30).

So there we have the Jerusalem and Jericho elements of the story, though of course much was to be added.

The Church Fathers had varying interpretations of the elements of the parable.  Those wishing a more complete study of the opinions of early Christian writers on the matter will find it in The Good Samaritan in Ancient Christianity, an article by Riemer Roukema in the publication Vigiliae Christianae: A Revew of Early Christian Life and Language, Vol. 58, No. 1 (Feb., 2004), pp. 56-74 (19 pages).



This is a Marian icon of the Chernigov (Черниговская/Chernigovskaya) type:

There are actually two old “Chernigov” type icons classified as “miracle working” in Russian Orthodoxy.  The second originated as a copy on canvas of the first, and when looking at various examples of subsequently painted icons of the two , one cannot really tell the difference from appearance alone.

Here is the title inscription of the example above:

It reads:

“[The] Chernigov Most Holy Birth-giver of God.”

You will recall that the –iya ending of the first word is Church Slavic, but common practice is to use the Russian –aya ending for such titles in discussion and in writing, so we refer to this type as the Chernigovskaya — “Of Chernigov.”

Now when the icon has only the “Chernigov” title — like the one shown above — it generally represents examples painted after the original icon, which is more specifically known as the “Chernigov-Ilinskaya” (Chernigov-Elijah) type.   Examples representing the second icon — which was originally a copy of the first, but gained a reputation for miracle-working on its own — are technically known as the Черниговская Гефсиманская/Chernigovskaya-Gefsimanskaya (Chernigov-Gethsemane) — but confusingly, they may have only the same title as the first, so copies of these two related icons are constantly confused.

What that means is that unless a given icon of the Chernigov type is distinguished by the secondary title, one cannot tell from appearance alone whether one is looking at a rendering of the Chernigovskaya-Ilinskaya (Черниговская Ильинская), or of the Chernigov Gethsemane icon.  This example of the Chernigov-Ilinskaya is clearly identified as such by the title below:

Here is a closer view of the title inscription:

It reads:
Representation of the wonderworking icon of the Mother of God “Ilinskaya-Chernigovskaya, which is to be found in the Pecherskaya Church of the Holy Archistratigos Michael.

However a copy of the Chernigov-Gethsemane icon may only be identified as “Chernigov,” without the secondary title.  When one is uncertain, it is generally preferable to just go with the “Chernigov” title, and to assume it is based on the Chernigovskaya-Ilinskaya icon.

Here is the Chernigovskaya-Gefsimanskaya icon in the Gethsemane Skete:

Notice the obvious evidences of reworking, particularly visible in the title inscription:

And notice also the numerous votive rings, necklaces, etc. attached to the icon out of veneration and to show thanks for supposed answered prayers.

As for the origin stories of these two icons, the “Chernigovskaya-Ilinskaya” is said to have been painted by the monk Grigory Konstantinovich Dubenskiy in 1658. Five years later — in 1662 — word spread among the people that the icon was shedding tears.  No one was quite sure just what this supposed omen signified, though various interpretations were offered.  In any case, it made the icon famous.  This was followed by the usual addition of more “miracles” to its story, which is typical for icons classified as “wonderworking” in Russian Orthodoxy.  Some were even described in The Dew-wet Fleece (Руно орошенное/Runo oroshennoe), written by Dimitriy Rostovskiy.  The icon was kept at the Trinity-Il’insky Monastery near Chernigov, thus the secondary title.

The second “Chernigov” icon — the Chernigovskaya-Gefsimanskaya — was, as earlier mentioned, a copy of the first.  It was painted on canvas sometime around the middle of the 18th century.  It was eventually given to a girl named Alexandra Grigorieva Filippova, by a priest in Moscow named Ioann Alekseev, who had received it from a monk of the Trinity-Sergiyev Monastery. Alexandra, who kept it for many years, had the painting touched up — “renewed.”  In 1842 the icon was given to the Gethsemane Skete (thus its secondary title), and was kept in the Church of the Archistratigos Michael.  It’s first miracle of healing suppposedly happened on September 1, 1869, with the cure of a bedridden woman.


Those of you familiar with cinematic history will know the famous 1938 black and white movie Alexander Nevsky, with its remarkable musical score by Sergei Prokofiev.  It was directed by Sergei Eisenstein.  Those of you who have not seen it may watch the film (with English subtitles) here:

Many of those familiar with the movie have no idea that Alexander Nevsky/Nevskiy (Александр Невский ) is also considered a saint in Russian Orthodoxy, and there are many icons of him.  Here is one example, from the year 1880:

(Courtesy of

Two icons are above him:  the “Iverskaya” Marian icon on the left, and the standard “Lord Almighty” icon of Jesus at right.

Alexander Nevskiy was a prince in the great northern city of Novgorod during the time of the Mongol invasions in the early 1200s.  At that time Eastern Orthodox Novgorod was threatened on the West by Roman Catholic Swedes — the “Latins.”

Before Alexander went out to battle the Swedes, he went into the Church of Holy Wisdom to pray, and when he came out, he is said to have roused his men by saying,

Не в силе Бог, а в правде. Иные — с оружием, иные — на конях, а мы Имя Господа Бога нашего призовем!

God is not in power, but in truth.  Others are in armor — others are on horses — but we shall call on the name of our Lord God.

Tradition relates that one of his soldiers saw a kind of vision — a boat floating upon the water, and in the boat — dressed in crimson robes — were the first two “Russian” saints, the Princes Boris and Gleb. That was considered a sign that God was with Novgorod against its enemies, and Alexander and his forces defeated the Swedes in a battle at the Neva River on Juy 15, 1240.  That of course gave him his title — Alexander “of the Neva” — Alexander Nevskiy.  At the time, Alexander is said to have been only 19.  There is some doubt among historians as to the historical authenticity of this victory over the Swedes, but it is part of the traditional tale of Alexander.

To film buffs, however, his most famous battle was that against the Teutonic Knights, whom he met at frozen Lake Peipus/Peipsi — which the Russians call  Чудское озеро/Chudskoe ozero –on April 5th of 1242.  I won’t tell you what happened there, because if you have not seen the Eisenstein movie, I don’t want to give a “spoiler.”

Alexander developed good relations with the Mongol Golden Horde, and paid regular tribute as a vassal prince.  He was made Grand Prince (Velikiy Knyaz) of Vladimir in 1252, and died some 12 years later.  Shortly before his death he became a monk and put on a monk’s habit.

Alexander was officially “glorified” as a saint of the Russian Orthodox Church in Moscow in 1547, and is commonly given the title Благоверный Великий Князь/Blagovernuiy Velikiy Knyaz’ — “Pious/Orthodox Great Prince.”

There is of course much more to his traditional “life,” and this is just a brief summary.

As the centuries passed, Alexander became an important national symbol for Russia.  He is depicted in two quite different ways.   Early icons and those of the Old Believers show him dressed as a monk, as in this 16th century Moscow icon that titles him Blagovernuiy Knyaz’ Velikiy Alexandr Nevskiy Chudotvorets — “Pious Prince Great Alexander Nevskiy, Wonderworker.”

Post-schism State Church iconography, however, favored showing him in military and royal garb — often standing by a table on which lay his scepter and crown, as in this example from the late 19th-beginning of the 20th century:

It is only in recent years that the Russian Orthodox Church — the State Church, that is — began advocating a return to the old iconography depicting him as a monk.  Old Believer icons always preferred showing Alexander in a monk’s habit.



Here is a fresco in the Dionysiou Monastery on Mount Athos, in Greece.  It depicts a well-known scene from the Gospel called “of John” (20:24-29):

At the top, we see the title:

or in full,

“The Touching of Thomas,”

or as it would better be rendered in English,

“The Touching by Thomas.”

In Russian examples, it is often called
Уверение Фомы
Uverenie Fomui
“[The] Assuring of Thomas.”

Уверование Фомы
Uverovanie Fomui
“[The] Belief of Thomas.”

The account in “John” says that the resurrected Jesus appeared to the disciples, and it continues:

But Thomas, one of the twelve, called Didymus, was not with them when Jesus came.

The other disciples therefore said  to him, We have seen the Lord [Greek ton kyrion]. But he said to them, Except I shall see in his hands the print of the nails, and put my finger into the print of the nails, and thrust my hand into his side, I will not believe.

 And after eight days again his disciples were within, and Thomas with them: then came Jesus, the doors being shut, and stood in the midst, and said, Peace be to you.

Then says he to Thomas, Reach here your finger, and look at my hands; and reach here your hand, and thrust it into my side: and be not faithless, but believing.

And Thomas answered and said to him, My Lord and my God.

Jesus says to him, Thomas, because you have seen me, you have believed: blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed.

It is noteworthy that this story of Thomas not believing the resurrection of Jesus until he touches the wounds inflicted by the crucifixion is not found in any other Gospel.  It is unique to John. That tells us the writer of John — whoever he was — had a particular theological interest in showing that Jesus — though risen — had a physical body.  There were other Christian groups at the time who believed that Jesus had no physical body, but only appeared to possess one.  Early Christianity was not monolithic, but consisted of a number of different Christian communities with differing beliefs.  The fixing of Christian teaching into “universally binding” dogmatic creeds came later, and was the result of the desire to eliminate such disagreements.

Now interestingly, this declaration of Thomas to Jesus, calling him “My Lord and my God,  has been a focus of endless controversy through the history of Christianity.  Some groups said it means that Thomas is here identifying Jesus as God himself.  Others said it cannot possibly mean that, given other statements about Jesus in the Gospels and elsewhere in the Bible.

The controversy is still going on within Christianity today.

While “John” obviously had a very high view of the nature and person of Jesus — much more blatantly so than the other gospels, he basically repeats the Hellenistic notion found also in Philo of Alexandria, that Jesus is in reality the Logos –– the Word, or better, the Reason, of the hidden God who functions in the world through the Logos as his emanation, using the Logos as his means of interacting with the world and with humankind — and even of creating “all things.”  So as Philo wrote, this Logos was a “second God.”  Students of classical Greek religion will recognize in this a more developed form of the same notion found in the tale of the origin of the Goddess Athena — the Goddess of Wisdom and intelligence (i.e “reason”) — who was born when she sprang forth from the forehead of Zeus, fully armed.

There was always much controversy in early Christianity over precisely in what sense Jesus was divine — whether he was actually the God, or divine in a somewhat lesser sense.  But controversy and bickering over doctrine has existed in Christianity from its very beginning.  In the writings of Paul — considered to be the earliest in the New Testament, we not only find Paul disagreeing with Peter and the Jerusalem Church, and in Galatians we even find the irritable Paul saying of other Christians with whom he disagreed on one point,

“Would that those who are stirring you up would castrate themselves.”
ὄφελον καὶ ἀποκόψονται οἱ ἀναστατοῦντες ὑμᾶς.

The arguing never stopped.  The Christian writer Origin quoted Celsus, the 2nd century Greek philosopher and opponent of Christianity, who said of the Christian groups of his time (Contra Celsum, 64):

You may hear, he says, all those who differ so widely, and who assail each other in their disputes with the most shameless language, uttering the words, ‘The world is crucified to me, and I unto the world.’

Regarding the declaration of Thomas  — “My Lord and my God” — those Christians who believed Jesus is God interpreted it as being addressed directly to Jesus by Thomas — Thomas declaring that Jesus is both Lord and God.

Some, however, had and have a different interpretation. In fact they have many different explanations of why this cannot possibly mean what it appears to mean — and cannot seem to settle on any one explanation as the definitive answer.  Sometimes they say it is just an exclamation, and not an address to Jesus as God; they appeal to the context, to other quotes in the Gospels that seem to indicate Jesus is not the God; or they say that perhaps it is an archaic manner of speaking no longer understood; some even use the excuse of Greek grammar, claiming that if Thomas had been directly addressing Jesus, he would have used the vocative case — that instead of saying

Ho kyrios mou kai ho theos mou

He would have said instead,

Kyrie mou kai thee mou

Interestingly we find the same grammatical construction — only with “Lord” and “Jesus” reversed in order —  in the Septuagint Greek Bible used by the early Christians, in Psalm 34:23:

ἐξεγέρθητι, κύριε, καὶ πρόσχες τῇ κρίσει μου, ὁ θεός μου καὶ ὁ κύριός μου, εἰς τὴν δίκην μου.

“Awake, Lord, and attend to my judgment, my God and my Lord, [even] to my cause.”

In Greek the text of “John” is:

ἀπεκρίθη Θωμᾶς καὶ εἶπεν αὐτῷ· Ὁ κύριός μου καὶ ὁ θεός μου.
apekrithe Thomas kai eipen auto: Ho kurios mou kai ho theos mou
“Answered Thomas and said to him:  The Lord of me and the God of me.”
Or, as we would put it in normal English,
“Thomas answered and said to him, ‘My Lord and my God.”

Of course there is a vocative Kyrie found at the very beginning of the sentence in which the parallel construction is found in the Psalm:

ἐξεγέρθητι, κύριε…
exegertheti kyrie…
“Awake, Lord…”

My point in discussing these esoteric matters is not to defend any side of the question here, but rather to point out that historically, there was never doctrinal agreement among various Christian groups from the very beginning of Christianity, not even on such a matter as who precisely, Jesus was — whether man, spirit, angel, a lesser god or the God.

When the matter came to a head in the 4th century during the reign of Emperor Constantine, and was put to a church council — the so-called “First Ecumenical Council,” the Council of Nicea — Constantine seems not to have much cared which opinion carried the day, as long as it stopped bickering Christians from creating divisions among the people of his empire.  It did not.

So historically in Christianity, there was and is still the question of just what John actually meant by having Thomas declare to Jesus “My Lord and my God.”  Many early Christians were subordinationists, believing that though Jesus was God, nonetheless, because he was begotten by the Father — or in other terms was an emanation of the hidden God — he was on a secondary and subordinate level to God the Father.  One even finds such an argument made in the Gospel of John (14:28):

You have heard how I said to you, I go away, and come again to you. If you loved me, you would rejoice, because I said, I go to the Father: for my Father is greater than I.

My reason for discussing all of this is not to intentionally bore you, but to point out some of the problems inherent in Christian history.  It is quite obvious that, given the full history of Christian doctrinal disagreement from the beginnings to now — disagreements obvious even in the earliest Hebrew and Greek manuscripts — that one can hardly successfully argue — as many fundamentalists do — for an inerrant Bible.  The frequent ambiguities of the component documents have contributed greatly to the ongoing differences among Christians as to just what was meant by this or that biblical writer.  And keep in mind that disagreements among Christians preceded the assembling of the various books of the New Testament, together with those of the Old Testament, into a Christian Bible.

Martin Luther got the Protestant Reformation underway with the principle of Sola scriptura — “Scripture alone” as the deciding authority in determining doctrine.  But as he quickly found, “Scripture” still requires interpretation, and others who disagreed with Luther’s interpretations began popping up almost immediately.

Christianity had earlier attempted (or at least the political and religious hierarchy had attempted) to solve the problem by saying that the determining authority as to what any part of the Bible means is the Church and Church tradition, which is the view of Roman Catholicism.  Eastern Orthodoxy has a similar approach; that the Church created the Bible, and the Church — through the writings of the Church Fathers and tradition — is the only authority in interpreting it.  Of course there are great numbers of other Christian groups who did and do disagree.

It all reminds one of Mark Twain’s remark:

Man is a Religious Animal. He is the only Religious Animal. He is the only animal that has the True Religion–several of them.