Ágnes Kriza’s book examines one of the most enigmatic icons produced by medieval East Slavic artists: that of Sophia, the Divine Wisdom. The icon depicts a figure with a red face, red hands and red wings. Dressed in imperial garments and wearing a crown, the figure sits on a throne flanked by the Mother of God and John the Baptist. Above the figure are Christ and angels, unfolding a scroll of heaven with an empty throne in the centre. Some historians and philosophers have attributed the icon to Western influences on Novgorodian art. However, Kriza challenges this view, arguing that the icon expresses the deep anti-Western sentiments that shaped Rus Orthodox identity over six centuries, from the schism of 1054 to the sixteenth century.

Kriza’s book, which is a revised version of her doctoral dissertation, analyses the meaning and function of the icon, as well as the historical context of its creation, from four perspectives. In part i, she examines the literary context of the imagery by exploring a separate literary text: a commentary on the Sophia icon. According to Kriza, both the icon and the commentary appeared in Novgorod in the first half of the fifteenth century. Based on this commentary, Kriza concludes that Wisdom’s red face symbolises the divine fire, which consumes corruptible passions and illuminates the pure soul. The entire figure represents redeemed humanity, the Church, the body of Christ and, by extension, the eucharist. This interpretation of the Novgorod Sophia is further reinforced by the images of John the Baptist, who represents a bishop celebrating the liturgy, and the Theotokos, who stands for the believers attending the eucharist.

Another text accompanying the commentary explains why the figure is called Sophia. It draws a connection between the cathedral of Hagia Sophia in Constantinople and Solomon, who authored the Wisdom books and built the Temple of Jerusalem. Kriza interprets this comparison from a medieval perspective that conflated the physical church building with the Church as a community of believers, a manifestation of Christ’s body, and Christianity itself. The Sophia discourse, therefore, presented Hagia Sophia as the universal Christian Church, the New Jerusalem. Taken together, these two texts provide what Kriza refers to as a ‘sophiological synthesis’, marking the boundaries of the Orthodox Church and creating special connections between the Hagia Sophia in Constantinople and the Novgorodian icon. This analysis of the icon’s symbolic meaning serves as a prelude to a more detailed exploration of its iconography, which Kriza addresses in part ii of her book.

Part ii focuses on the iconography of Wisdom in Rus, which drew inspiration from Proverbs ix.1: ‘Cause of all and Bestower of Life, the infinite Wisdom of God has built His house, from a pure Mother who has not known man. For, clothing Himself in a bodily temple, Christ our God is greatly glorified.’ Kriza notes that the imagery of Wisdom primarily originates from Novgorod, whose main cathedral was dedicated to St Sophia. She interprets the Novgorod icon as a form of the Royal Deesis, an iconographic pattern depicting Christ seated on a throne with the attributes of an emperor and hierarch. The figures of the Mother of God, also bearing imperial insignia, and John the Baptist stand on either side. Kriza contrasts the Royal Deesis with another imperial representation of the Mother of God, the Coronation of the Virgin, which depicts the Virgin sharing a throne with Christ. She argues that the Coronation of the Virgin was a Western pattern expressing the papal claim of temporal authority’s subordination to spiritual authority. In contrast, the Royal Deesis, where Christ alone occupies the throne, was a Byzantine response to papal claims of supremacy. The Novgorod icon incorporated these anti-Western and pro-Constantinople sentiments, with the winged and crowned Wisdom symbolising the body of Christ, the Church.

Kriza further develops her analysis of the anti-Latin elements in Sophia imagery in parts iii and iv. In part iii, she argues that the Novgorodian icon served as an allegorical representation of the Orthodox Church, linking Rus with Byzantium. She contends that Rus Orthodox identity was deeply influenced by the schism of 1054, particularly the dispute over the eucharist. The Western Church believed that the eucharistic bread should be unleavened, as leaven symbolised sin, while the Eastern Church preferred leavened bread, representing Christ’s human nature and the living force of the New Grace. Kryza follows the Russian historian Alexei Lidov, who asserts that the theological conflicts between the Western and Eastern Churches significantly impacted the iconography of Orthodox art in the eleventh century. The discussion of the Novgorod icon’s depiction of the Mother of God with the child in the mandorla is examined within this context of the eucharist debate.

Part iv discusses the Novgorod icon in relation to Archbishop Evfimii ii of Novgorod (1429–58) and the theory of Moscow as the Third Rome. Kryza challenges the prevailing view that Evfimii’s policies were anti-Muscovite. Instead, she supports A. G. Bobrov’s argument that Evfimii initiated a significant programme of cultural patronage in response to the Union of Florence, which was accepted by both the Catholic and Orthodox Churches in 1439. According to Kryza, Evfimii’s anti-unionist stance led to an ecclesiastical alliance with Moscow. The Novgorodian iconography of St Sophia was part of Evfimii’s cultural programme, which opposed Latin and Constantinopolitan influences. Kryza attributes the two earliest surviving icons of St Sophia – one from the Annunciation Cathedral of the Moscow Kremlin and another from Novgorod – to Evfimii’s patronage. This attribution necessitates a substantial revision of the icons’ history.

Part iv also aims to connect the iconography of St Sophia and its literary interpretation with the theory of Moscow as the Third Rome. Particularly relevant to the Novgorod icon discussed earlier is the examination of the above-mentioned Sophia commentary found in a collection of anti-Latin texts compiled by the prominent monk Efrosin of the Kirillo-Belozersk Monastery in the 1470s. This commentary includes Efrosin’s note: ‘Of the Church of God, Sophia, the most pure Virgin Mother of God, that is, virginal soul.’ Based on a textual analysis, Kriza concludes that Efrosin’s note represents an early example of the Third Rome theory emerging by the 1470s. However, given the brevity of Efrosin’s note, which does not mention Rome directly, this conclusion may seem speculative. The discussion also covers Moscow as the Third Rome through an analysis of the iconographic programme of Makarii, first archbishop of Novgorod (1526–42) and later Metropolitan (1542–63). The images of Novgorod Sophia commissioned by Makarii in both Novgorod and Moscow are seen as symbols of Orthodoxy that evoke the idea of Moscow as the Third Rome. The book concludes with a critical edition of the Sophia Commentary, including an English translation, and a catalogue of Sophia images produced from the first half of the fifteenth century to the late seventeenth century.

The book presents an ambitious overarching interpretation of complex medieval iconography. Kriza deserves commendation for her extensive use of visual and textual sources. Her methodology of examining Sophia imagery within the context of Orthodox ritual and literature is both innovative and promising. However, this approach carries certain risks. Kriza’s study focuses on the religious divide between the West and East throughout the medieval period, but it does not address how Novgorod became a conduit for Western influences in literature, art and architecture. During the medieval period, Novgorod had two active Catholic churches. Furthermore, Archbishop Gennadii of Novgorod used the Vulgate to prepare the first full translation of the Bible into Church Slavonic in 1499. In the late fourteenth century, during a conflict with the Moscow-based Metropolitan, Novgorodian envoys to Constantinople even threatened the Patriarch, who supported the Metropolitan, with Novgorod’s conversion to Catholicism. This was likely a bluff. But this incident raises questions about the balance between religious differences and cross-religious interactions in Novgorod.

The book also tends to overlook regional differences. It mentions a variant of Sophia imagery known as the ‘Polatsk Sophia’ icon, which was recorded in Tobol’sk (east of the Ural Mountains) in the 1620s. The author uncritically accepts Aleksandr Preobrazhensky’s assertion that this icon was a special type of Wisdom image created for the Polatsk Sophia Cathedral after Ivan iv occupied the city in 1563. However, the icon was not Russian but Ruthenian, as demonstrated by a sixteenth-century Sophia icon from the Lviv region of Ukraine. The Tobol’sk icon was almost certainly created by one of the Polatsk prisoners of war, who remained culturally active while in captivity in Muscovy.

Despite some unresolved questions about the interplay of East-West influences and regional variations, Kriza’s work provides a thorough and insightful analysis of the icon of the Divine Wisdom. Depicting Orthodoxy is the most comprehensive study of Sophia iconography in a broad cultural context. Oxford University Press deserves praise for including a hundred high-quality colour images in the book. These illustrations are an essential part of Kriza’s wide-ranging and thought-provoking study.