I recall 50 years ago, as a student, being introduced to Peruvian, Fr Gustavo Gutierrez's book, A Theology of Liberation. The image of the crucified Jesus on the cover has stayed with me ever since. It depicted a Jesus with a craggy face and oversized, gnarled fingers and toes - a man who had suffered and yet there was strength and determination in those features.
The publisher had used an image created by a Peruvian artist who moulded figures of the crucified Christ based on the features of the Quechua farmers in his home province. They were men and women who had spent their lives close to the earth, struggling to eke out a livelihood.
Years later, in 2014, on a visit to South America, I saw first-hand many such images. I recall the image of Our Lady at the Shrine in Tirana in the Atacama Desert, about 70 kilometres from the Columban Parish of Alto Pico, Iquique, Chile. It is an area where, in the past, the people lived as slaves mining nitrate in the harsh desert. Strikes and protests erupted as workers sought better treatment, leading to an infamous massacre in 1907, when the Chilean army suppressed striking workers.
The image of Mary in that shrine is based on an Inca princess, Tirana, who fought against the Spanish conquistadores. It is the image of Mary standing with the miners in their struggles. Mary, with the infant Jesus on one arm, reaches out with her other arm to the miners gathered around her - among them a youth holding the Chilean flag. She is giving them the scapular to wear as a sign that she will protect them. Empowered by her, they rally around her, standing up to begin anew.
Religious images arising from lived and historical experiences are powerful. Tapping into shared religious imagery in Peru and Chile, such images became potent tools for marginalised, poor people to assert their identity and resist oppression.
Christmas is a time when traditionally religious icons become very visible. Each December, a crib is erected in every Catholic Church. The traditional "feel good" crib will probably dominate the majority of churches - images that evoke nostalgic memories of childhood Christmases: the sheep, the shepherd and the wise men bringing gifts to the baby Jesus in a stable with his parents and some animals. In reality, a truly terrible place to give birth to your first child - but our cribs with the lights, the cotton wool etc. create an ooey-gooey feel-good factor for so many that we can miss the message.
However, this year, in different places, we have people who have taken the present reality of Bethlehem on board when creating the crib. For example, in the Lutheran Church in Bethlehem, the pastor, Rev. Isaac Munther, has built a very different crib this year. Here, the newborn child lies amid the rubble of a house just bombed and when the shepherds and magi come, they have to search the rubble to drag out the infant! It hits us that Jesus was indeed born when his people were oppressed by an empire and that God chose to identify with them.
Religious icons are powerful. They shape our conversations and form our outlook, our worldview. They can be a domesticating power that dulls our senses, lulling us into accepting the status quo, or else they can be a subversive power, challenging us and inviting us to do something to bring about the Reign of God. In our own personal space, each of us has our favourite religious icon.
The question is: How is that icon shaping me?
Columban Fr Donal O’Keeffe lives and works in Korea
Listen to "The Power of Sacred Icons "
Related links
- Read more from The Far East - November/December 2025
- Watch: Remembering Gustavo Gutierrez
