The first and last letters of the Greek alphabet, claimed by the risen Christ as a divine title — “I am the Alpha and the Omega” — and a favorite companion to the Chi-Rho in early Christian art.
Fully biblical: in Revelation the Lord declares himself “the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end” (Rev 1:8; 21:6; 22:13) — a title the Old Testament reserves for YHWH (“I am the first and I am the last,” Isa 44:6). Christians paired the two letters with the Chi-Rho from the 4th century onward, on tombs, mosaics, and coins.
A compact confession of Christ's deity and eternity: the One who spans all things bookends the alphabet itself. Carved beside the Chi-Rho, it answered Arian denials in two letters.
Orthodox
Christ the eternal Word, before and after all ages; the letters frame the Pantocrator and recur in the iconography of the Second Coming.
Catholic
Inscribed on the Paschal candle each Easter Vigil — “Christ yesterday and today, the Beginning and the End, the Alpha and the Omega” — binding the symbol to the resurrection.
Protestant
Kept close to the Revelation texts: assurance that the One who began history will end it, and that the risen Christ holds both ends of time.
A divine title in two letters
When the risen Christ says “I am the Alpha and the Omega,” he takes up a self-description the prophets gave to YHWH alone (Isa 44:6). The claim is to encompass all things — to be the source and the goal, the One before whom nothing was and after whom nothing will be. It is one of Revelation's quiet, decisive assertions of deity.
Why beside the Chi-Rho?
In the post-Nicene church the Alpha-Omega often hangs from the arms of the Chi-Rho monogram. Together they say: the One whose Name this is (Chi-Rho) is the One who is first and last (Alpha-Omega). Carved on a tomb, the letters preach resurrection — the dead belong to the Lord of beginning and end.
Pastoral Caution
As a design motif the letters can drift into mere ornament. Their content is a claim about Christ's deity and his lordship over time — not a decorative flourish but a confession.
