Very cool !

ΖΕΥΣ – Zeus – with Dionysus (ΔΙΟΝΥΣΟΣ) emerging from the left leg, depicted in the manner of a Byzantine Emperor.

You can tell this via not only the obvious (the Throne…), but also the more intricate details – the red footwear (with pearls!) is the ‘Tzangia’ (τζαγγία) which was very strongly associated with the Imperial position by this point; the Crown has Pendilia / Pendoulia to either side hanging from it; and the garmentry is itself the characteristic Loros (λῶρος) of similarly quite strong Imperial association.

Now, in this age of AI art wherein one can just enter a few descriptors and have all manner of Gods In X Culture’s Garb generated … it’d be easy to presume that that’s just exactly what this is.

Except it isn’t.

It’s … authentic – after a sort, anyway.

The text in question – Panteleimon cod. 6 (fol. 163v) is of 12th century origination.

The more specific context is that this illustration (along with an array of others of similar styling and subject-matter) come from the ‘Homilies’ of St Gregory of Nazianzus … which do the usual thing of, effectively, “Haha look at the abhorrent beliefs of the pre-Christian religion of our culture. Isn’t it silly?” [Often whilst … willfully ‘rewriting’ various points of it to make it look thusly, as applies some other exemplars of the type which I am aware of]

As Jakov Đorđević puts it: “This is why St Gregory begins his oration by contrasting this Christian Mystery with the “deviant” mysteries of pagans.”

And, to quote from him further:

“Still, two miniatures are of particular interest for the discussion at hand: the Birth of Zeus and the Birth of Dionysus from Zeus’ knee […].

The first image can be understood as the birth of a false god challenging, in a sense, Christ’s birth by echoing the joyous atmosphere of the Nativity scenes.

However, the connection between Zeus and Christ becomes especially obvious in the second miniature, as the Greek god, represented on a throne in the guise of a Byzantine emperor, bears the “portrait likeness” of Christ.

Furthermore, this false Pantocrator has his name written in white next to his figure, just as one would expect to find on an icon.

Since inscribing names was absolutely necessary for the image of a holy person to be an icon, the placement of corresponding written names next to depictions of pagan deities was always avoided in Byzantium. Therefore, it can be said that Panteleimon cod. 6 portrays a perfectly rendered idol from the Byzantine point of view.

The fact that the figure of Zeus does not look directly at the viewer, preventing direct contact and communication, enhances this position further, for such an image would certainly be seen as pregnant with dangerous powers.

It is known from numerous sources that Byzantines believed that ancient pagan sculptures had inherent powers and were to be handled with particular caution.

Thus, we can presume there was a certain degree of anxiety in the reader when he encountered this image. Moreover, the same could be said for other miniatures, because all deities depicted in Panteleimon cod. 6 are accompanied by their proper names written in white.”

There is also, perhaps, another dimension to it: Đorđević making an intriguing case (which we shall not quote at length here) for the ‘resonancy’ perhaps being intended for a particular human Byzantine Emperor. Assumedly, per his take on it, in a “a mocking, subversive representation of his person”.

Đorđević puts it thusly:

“The text of the homily that the miniature of Zeus is “illustrating” might in fact be a clue in the search for the hidden identity of the emperor in question: “Our Mystery is not a story of the affairs and frauds of Zeus, who once ruled the Cretans as tyrant”.

Observing that the supreme deity of ancient Greeks was imagined as a ‘tyrant’ by dressing him in the robes and regalia of Byzantine emperors, we could detect echoes remarkably similar to the official ideology devised to justify the claim to the throne of a new ruler – Isaac II Angelos (1185-1195). Isaac II began his reign with the bloody overthrow of his predecessor Andronikos I, last emperor of the Komnenian dynasty.

[…]

Although Andronikos I was welcomed by the general public of Constantinople with great hope in 1183, the harsh rule which followed marked him as a tyrant in the eyes of the people, which culminated in his gruesome downfall in 1185.
 
The new emperor Isaac II Angelos ex-ploited the image of tyrant-predecessor to his benefit, using it to support his own claim to the Byzantine throne as the savior of the Empire – a tyrant-slayer.

In History by Niketas Choniates, Andronikos I is characterized as he who “reigned as tyrant over the Romans” in a number of places, while in Monodia, written by Niketas’ brother Michael Choniates, the Emperor is referred to as “man-eating tyrant” and even as “Zeus” at one point.

[…]

Consequently, we can suppose that the manuscript was illuminated during the reign of Isaac II Angelos (1185- 1195), a “tyrant-slaying savior”. “

And, of course, for a ‘Tyrant-Slaying Savior’ … overthrower of a predecessor as ruler that’s a “man-eating” sort, in order to bring Order to the Kosmos … one need look no further than Zeus.

Perhaps this is not the ‘mocking’ of an Emperor via such a comparison – that apparent derogatory labelling for the preceding Emperor [Andronikos I] as a “Zeus” within the Monodia of Choniate to which Đorđević refers, of course, notwithstanding.

Or perhaps it is – and the ‘vibe’ of the liberating Emperor in question [Isaac II Angelos] was felt to be somehow … ‘inappropriately’ or ‘negatively’ Jupiterian.

Whatever the truth – it is a fascinating ‘visual-conceptual update’ for Zeus (and Zeus Basileus is, indeed, an attested epithet) by the later somewhat-inheritors of the archaic Hellenic sphere.