Manipulating Theophany: Light and Ritual in North Adriatic Architecture (ca. 400–ca. 800) 9783110418088, 9783110376326

Table of contents :
Contents
Introduction
Paulinus of Nola and the New Visual Rhetoric of Sanctity
I. Light in Late Antique Baptismal Theory and Practice
I.1 Initiation and Light Theophanies in Late Antiquity
I.2 Christian Bishops on Reflecting the Image of God at Baptism
I.2.1 Reproducing the Divine Light
I.2.2 The Ambrosian Tradition
I.2.3 Peter Chrysologus and Baptism in Fifth-Century Ravenna
I.3 The Orthodox Baptistery in Ravenna
I.3.1 The Iconography
I.3.1.1 The Cupola’s Central Scene
I.3.1.2 The χορός of the Apostles
I.3.1.3 The Thrones and Altars Register
I.3.1.4 The Level of the Windows and of the Stucco Prophets
I.3.1.5 The Floor Level
I.4 Conclusion: Encountering the Divine in Fifth-Century Ravenna
I.5 The Archbishops’ Chapel in Ravenna
I.5.1 Ravenna at the Beginning of the Sixth Century
I.5.2 The Chapel and the Orthodox Baptistery
I.5.2.1 The Architecture
I.5.2.2 The Inscription
I.5.2.3 The Iconography
I.5.2.4 The Light
I.5.3 Conclusion
II. Light in the Context of the Eucharistic Liturgy
Ps.-Dionysius the Areopagite
II.1 San Vitale in Ravenna
II.1.1 Juliana Anicia and “Justinianic” Churches
II.1.2 Sixth-Century Ravenna and the Church of San Vitale
II.1.3 Venantius Fortunatus and the Ravennate Experience
II.1.4 The Architecture
II.1.4.1 The Orientation and Openings
II.1.5 The Decoration
II.1.5.1 The Textures and Colours
II.1.5.2 Metal Paraphernalia and Artificial Lights
II.1.5.3 The Figurative Decoration
II.1.6 The Liturgy
II.1.7 The New Ritual Mise-en-Scène on the Adriatic Shores
II.1.8 Conclusion
III. Conclusion
IV. Excursus: The Tempietto Longobardo in Cividale
IV.1 Between East and West
IV.2 The Tempietto
IV.3 The Use and Meaning of Light
IV.4 Manipulating Theophany on the Eve of the Carolingian Renaissance
Bibliography
Index of Persons
Index of Places

Citation preview

Vladimir Ivanovici Manipulating Theophany

Ekstasis

Religious Experience from Antiquity to the Middle Ages Edited by John R. Levison and Angela Kim Harkins Editorial Board David Aune, Jan Bremmer, John Collins, Dyan Elliott, Amy Hollywood, Sarah Iles Johnston, Gabor Klaniczay, Paulo Nogueira, Christopher Rowland and Elliot R. Wolfson

Volume 6

Vladimir Ivanovici

Manipulating Theophany Light and Ritual in North Adriatic Architecture (ca. 400–ca. 800)

DE GRUYTER

The research for this volume was funded by the Swiss National Science Foundation as part of the research project “From Ravenna to Vals. Light and Darkness in Architecture from the Middle Ages to the Present” (SNSF-project 128606) directed by Daniela Mondini 2010–2014 (Istituto di storia e teoria dell’arte e dell’architettura, Accademia di architettura, Università della Svizzera italiana). Da Ravenna a Vals. Luce e oscurità in architettura dal Medioevo al presente: Volume 3 Manipulating Theophany. Light and Ritual in North Adriatic Architecture (ca. 400–ca. 800). A dissertation submitted in partial fulfilment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy (Art and Architectural History) at the Università della Svizzera italiana 2014.

ISBN 978-3-11-037632-6 e-ISBN (PDF) 978-3-11-041808-8 e-ISBN (EPUB) 978-3-11-041818-7 ISSN 1865-8792 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data A CIP catalog record for this book has been applied for at the Library of Congress. Bibliographic information published by the Deutsche Nationalbibliothek The Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliografie; detailed bibliographic data are available on the Internet at http://dnb.dnb.de. © 2016 Walter de Gruyter GmbH, Berlin/Boston Typesetting: Konrad Triltsch, Print und digitale Medien GmbH, Ochsenfurt Printing and binding: CPI books GmbH, Leck ♾ Printed on acid-free paper Printed in Germany www.degruyter.com

Prima dies nam lucis erat, mors una tenebris: lux datur ante polos, lux clari causa diei, lux iubar aethereum, lux noctis limes et umbris, lux facies rerum, dux lux cunctis elementis, lux genitis per cuncta color, lux gratia solis, lux decus astrorum, lux aurea cornua lunae, lux fulgor caeli, lux et primordia mundi, lux splendor flammae, lux magni temporis index, lux opus Auctoris primum, lux cardo pudoris, lux honor agricolis, requies lux omnibus aegris, lux aeui media est, lux quae dat tempora metis. Blossius Aemilius Dracontius (ca. 455 – 505) De laudibus Dei 1.118 – 28 (ed. Moussy and Camus 1985: 156).

Acknowledgements This book is a revised version of the doctoral thesis I presented in December 2014 at the Accademia di architettura Mendrisio (Università della Svizzera italiana). The research pertains to a growing number of studies on the use and meaning of light in premodern societies. Within this scholarly current, Daniela Mondini’s research project From Ravenna to Vals. Light and Darkness in Architecture from the Middle Ages to the Present, distinguished itself through a diachronic approach and a commitment to evaluate the role played by darkness along with light. As part of this research group, generously financed by the Swiss National Science Foundation (2010 – 2014), I attempted to identify the manners in which light was used in Christian architecture in Late Antiquity. Having completed a doctoral dissertation on the iconic dimension of martyrs in the first centuries CE, an iconicity that often manifested as a luminous aura, I was interested in seeing how natural and artificial light were used during rituals, and search for connections. Consequently, I saw an intrinsic relationship between an anthropological discourse and the use of light as an instrument of theophany. The reconstruction, as far as possible, of the luminous dimension of ritual spaces, revealed them as stages on which bishops presented an anthropological paradigm that postulated the human being as iconic and luminous. Many people contributed, in various ways, to this project coming to fruition. First and foremost, I must thank Daniela Mondini, who supported both the project and me and my family in all possible ways. This book is dedicated to her. The academic and administrative personnel at the Accademia di architettura Mendrisio have my sincerest gratitude for their support, understanding, and friendship. Christoph Frank, Christiane Schroeder, Antoine Turner, and Angela Windholz have saved me many times. To my colleagues Silvia Berselli, Matthias Brunner, and Mirko Moizi I thank for their friendship. The interest Sible de Blaauw, Jaś Elsner, and Salvatore Settis have shown in my work has been a stimulus to keep going. To Chiara Croci, Rachel Danford, Ivan Foletti, Valentino Pace, and Barbara Schellewald I thank for having read and commented on various parts of the book. Since this project also draws on research I conducted during my first doctorate, at the University of Bucharest, I am deeply grateful to my professors there. Vlad Nistor, Zoe Petre, Daniela Zaharia, and Ecaterina Lung have, through their help and interest in my research been a great and constant support ever since I began my studies. To my lovely wife Cristina, who obstinately and selflessly followed me, changing countries five times in five years, I thank her for her patience and

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for the two wonderful distractions, Sophia and Filip, without whom our lives would be a lot calmer but certainly less fun. I thank those who so generously allowed me to use their images: Xavier Barral i Altet, Paolo Dell’Angelo, Carola Jäggi, Dennis Jarvis, Gerry Johansson, Robert S. Nelson, Carole Raddato, Lorenzo Russo, Nick Thompson, Centro di Conservazione Archeologica Roma – CCA, The Dumbarton Oaks Center, Longo Editore, and the bishoprics of Ravenna and Poreč. I also thank Lorenzo Pini, Francesca Fazzallari, and Raul Vasvari for their graphic development of the images. Last but not least, I must express my gratitude to Jack Levison, who eagerly accepted this book for publication in his new series, whose forthcoming titles I am looking forward to reading. To Albrecht Döhnert and Sophie Wagenhofer, from Walter de Gruyter, I thank for their collaboration and for seeing this project through. Vladimir Ivanovici

Contents Introduction

1

Paulinus of Nola and the New Visual Rhetoric of Sanctity

14

I Light in Late Antique Baptismal Theory and Practice 19 I. Initiation and Light Theophanies in Late Antiquity 23 I. Christian Bishops on Reflecting the Image of God at Baptism 37 I.. Reproducing the Divine Light 45 48 I.. The Ambrosian Tradition I.. Peter Chrysologus and Baptism in Fifth-Century Ravenna 50 I. The Orthodox Baptistery in Ravenna 57 66 I.. The Iconography I... The Cupola’s Central Scene 69 I... The χορός of the Apostles 86 90 I... The Thrones and Altars Register I... The Level of the Windows and of the Stucco Prophets 93 I... The Floor Level 98 106 I. Conclusion: Encountering the Divine in Fifth-Century Ravenna I. The Archbishops’ Chapel in Ravenna 109 I.. Ravenna at the Beginning of the Sixth Century 110 I.. The Chapel and the Orthodox Baptistery 111 115 I... The Architecture I... The Inscription 116 I... The Iconography 120 I... The Light 120 I.. Conclusion 121 126 II Light in the Context of the Eucharistic Liturgy Ps.-Dionysius the Areopagite 126 II. San Vitale in Ravenna 129 II.. Juliana Anicia and “Justinianic” Churches 129 II.. Sixth-Century Ravenna and the Church of San Vitale II.. Venantius Fortunatus and the Ravennate Experience II.. The Architecture 143 II... The Orientation and Openings 148 II.. The Decoration 158 II... The Textures and Colours 160

133 137

X

II... II... II.. II.. II..

Contents

Metal Paraphernalia and Artificial Lights 169 179 The Figurative Decoration The Liturgy 190 The New Ritual Mise-en-Scène on the Adriatic Shores Conclusion 211

III Conclusion

213

217 IV Excursus: The Tempietto Longobardo in Cividale IV. Between East and West 218 219 IV. The Tempietto IV. The Use and Meaning of Light 224 IV. Manipulating Theophany on the Eve of the Carolingian 228 Renaissance Bibliography Index of Persons Index of Places

229 257 260

199

Introduction The Power of Light In Late Antiquity, some Christian bishops orchestrated the sacraments as life-altering experiences. Capitalising on the general material turn—a willingness to believe that “the sensible world, including human sense-perception, the body, and objects in the material realm, could be viewed not as distractions but as theophanic vehicles”¹—a Christian intelligentsia built cultic spaces in which the divine was offered to the senses. In particular, these settings substantiated the divine in the manner in which Late Antique persons expected it to manifest: as light. A reconstruction of the role light played in the mise-en-scènes allows us to fill the gap between text and architecture, and show that the light-infused visionary experiences mentioned in the writings of Christian bishops were staged inside these spaces. Parting with the dark temples of antiquity, the Christian basilica communicated a new, luminous type of ritual experience. Associated with the presence of their God, the light inside the cultic spaces of the Christians was a theophanic manifestation and, concurrently, a point of contact with the rest of Late Antique society. The main vehicle of theophany, light also became the epitome of everything positive in the period.² Erudition, friendliness, virtue, sanctity, and divine immanence manifested as light. Colours were perceived as degrees of light, textures were judged according to their reflectivity, and even the cosmic structure was envisioned as a progression of increasingly luminous levels of being. Light thus offers a fil rouge that reunites theology and ritual with the architecture, decoration, and iconography of cultic spaces and allows us to see Christianity’s debt to Late Roman culture. The recognition of the role light played in the perception of Late Antique Christian spaces changes our understanding of the architecture and the rituals

 Cox Miller : . On the “material turn” see ead. pp.  – ; Walker : ; Frank a: . Regarding Ps.-Dionysius the Areopagite’s interpretation of Neoplatonic thought, Perl : , respectively , stated: “‘Of God there is sense-perception’, this stunning but wholly consistent affirmation cannot be overemphasised.” and “For Dionysius, then, as for Plotinus and Proclus, the whole of reality, all that is, is theophany, the manifestation or appearance of God.”  Light was associated with divine manifestations also in the ancient world. In both myth and ritual practice, light was indicative of divinity. For the use of light in ancient Greek cults, see Christopoulos, Karakantza, Levaniouk (eds.) ; Schneider and Wulf-Rheidt (eds.) .

2

Introduction

they hosted.³ On the one hand, the analysis reveals that the audience’s gaze—the subjective part of perception that is moulded by society—favoured brightness over other aspects. Judging colours and textures on account of an imagined scale that went from dark to light, onlookers perceived ritual stages in a manner that can be likened to modern thermal imaging.⁴ On the other hand, the relation

Fig. 1. Interior of the church of St. Stephen Walbrook in London showing the luminance of surfaces. Photo by G. Johansson.

between light and the texture of materials shows that certain objects, areas, and iconographic details gained prominence through lighting. Lighting thus moulded the apprehension of the space through a two level process, affecting both gaze and sight. Awareness of the optical effects in use reveals the manner in

 As argued already by Gottfried Semper, architecture is a material expression of the activity it hosts, and it is in the “haze of carnival candles” that one finds its purpose, see Bonnemaison and Macy :  – .  Infrared thermography, or thermal imaging detects radiation in the infrared range of the electromagnetic spectrum and produces images of that radiation, called thermograms. The amount of radiation emitted by an object increases with temperature; therefore, thermography allows one to see variations in temperature.

Introduction

3

which sight was involved in the process. Concurrently, the identification of the scenes’ significance in Late Antique society exemplifies the role of the gaze. The analysis of ritual scenes from the point of view of an aesthetic of light must include the clergy. Sharing through their vestments the aesthetic of the space, they added to its revelatory dimension. Indeed, the dynamic of the spaces and of the experience they offered is dependent on that of the ritual, the clergy’s gestures adding to our understanding of the sacraments as Gesamtkunstwerke.

The Thesis of the Book The main thesis of this study is the staging of theophanic ritual experiences inside the spaces designed for Christian sacraments in Late Antiquity. The reconstruction, as far as possible, of the spaces’ luminous dimension testifies to their revelatory purpose and points to their similarity to non-Christian practices of the time. This analysis shows that the settings of the sacraments represented Christianised versions of what their audience held to be life-altering experiences.⁵ Bishops combined elements they knew would be perceived as revelatory, with Christian motifs, thus drawing on the theophanic potential of certain visual effects to legitimise the tenets of the cult and, in particular, to promote themselves as holy. Indeed, as this analysis indicates, the main effect of the orchestration was the altering of the clergy’s ontological status, with them indicated as angelic rather than human. The otherworldly atmosphere created through illumination and decoration impinged on the performers’ materiality, which became spiritualised through the setting. In this way, the theophanic character of the ritual scene invested the clergy with an iconic dimension that was the mark of the holy person in Late Antique society. This analysis follows a tripartite sequence, each step of the endeavour proposing a new look at old matters. First, arguing that the spaces were perceived through a particular, Late Antique prism that favoured brightness over other elements, I analyse the interiors from this point of view. The endeavour reveals a new dimension of the spaces, and casts light on a series of phenomena so far overlooked. Second, considering the interiors as part of an episcopal discourse designed for an audience whose visual vocabulary was moulded by Late Antique society writ large, I identify the relevance these ritual scenes had in their contemporary culture. Third, I speculate on the purpose these orchestrated experi This is because, according to Fischer : , “For art to be effective as wish-fulfilment it must attain a certain degree of plausibility.” The use of a common decorative style and of famous symbols not only assured the transmissibility of the message but it also helped legitimise it.

4

Introduction

ences had, and on their effect on the perception of the cult and its clergy. It becomes evident that in both form and purpose Christianity followed patterns discernible in competing cults. While the form is represented by the luminous, theophanic dimension of the ritual settings, the purpose pertained to the anthropological field. Invested through the setting with an otherworldly luminosity, the person at the centre of the ritual fulfilled the ideal of Late Antique religiosity by embodying the divine for the rest of the believers. Bishops argued that the capacity to understand the symbolism of the spaces was divinely imparted through the sacraments. Since the spaces made use of motifs borrowed from the common visual vocabulary, the visual programs operated on at least two interpretative levels. The first was represented by their meaning in Late Antique society, the second by the particular, Christian interpretation. The recognition of Christianity’s debt in terms of ritual enactment to contemporary material culture in Late Antiquity stresses the significance of the moment in the development of the cult. The passing from a “sensory austerity”⁶ in the preConstantinian period, to the fleshing out of the divine during rituals that stimulated all the senses required a radical adaptation. The study of the theophanic dimension of the sacraments leads to the recognition of the efforts the Church Fathers made to Christianise the natural world.⁷ The bishops thus responded both to an organic development of the cult’s theology, which in the context of Christological debates stressed the consecration of matter through the Incarnation, and to the general material turn that opened the possibility of experiencing the divine through the body.

The Material Turn and the Body Late Antique society abandoned the cosmic pessimism derived from Plato’s view of matter as incarcerating immortal souls, and adopted the idea that everything in existence is good. Within Neoplatonism, the system of thought which most influenced Christian leaders, the relation between matter and the divine was expressed as a flux of creation that emanated continuously from the source of Good and kept all ontological levels in direct relation to the One. Everything

 Ashbrook Harvey : .  As argued by Brown :  – , by the fourth century Christianity had only replaced the head of a complex structure, leaving the rest in place. The mundus had to be integrated in the Christian system with all its phenomena.

Introduction

5

in existence was, to a greater or lesser extent, theophanic.⁸ Everything the senses perceived manifested the divine, while cultic spaces in particular amassed those elements considered most revelatory. Ascension through a succession of increasingly luminous levels of being by means of contemplation or rituals allowed humans to recover or actualise their divine potential. Found at the centre of the process, humans became iconic themselves. Traditional theophanic media found themselves in competition with the living bodies of holy individuals, which became the preferred iconic vehicle into the world of the senses. An intercessional paradigm having at the centre the holy person as animated cultic artefact replaced Plato’s negative σῶμα-σῆμα analogy and marked a revolution in embodiment.⁹ The revelatory dimension of Late Antique ritual spaces drew on this phenomenal change. Indeed, as this study shows, the use of light in ritual contexts developed within Christianity in close relation with an anthropological discourse that postulated the ideal human being as luminous. The two aspects—the reproduction of divine light through various artifices and the postulation of the human being as iconic and luminous—influenced each other. The bishops’ ability to render a person luminous during baptism stimulated the anthropological discourse which held certain living persons as the main theophanic medium into the world of the senses. Without the anthropological dimension, study of the mise-en-scènes offers an incomplete image. The embodying of the divine by the person at the centre of the ritual performance was rendered credible by the settings, which reproduced the atmosphere of heaven. The light present in the ritual eroded the materiality of the context and, with it, of the participants. Discernible in the cults of Isis, Mithras, and Christ, where the cultic settings helped to fulfil the anthropological ideal of the time, the phenomenon appears as a characteristic of Late Antique ritual practice. At the centre of Christian ritual space and performance, dressed in the most “luminous” textures and hues, the bishop appeared as the source of the light that pervaded the space.

 Shaw : ; Perl :  – ,  – . Both Himmelfarb :  –  for Judeo-Christian apocalypses and Perl :  for Neoplatonism argued pertinently that the hierarchical order that interposes humanity and God should be seen as connecting rather than as separating them.  The motif and the cultural context that prompted its development is studied in detail in a forthcoming monograph, provisionally called Iconic Presences. Embodying the Divine in Late Antique Christianity.

6

Introduction

Analysing Theophany The study of cultic architecture is particularly complex. According to Jaś Elsner, “The question of architecture is a special case of the theme of ritual and art, since it is about the orchestration of (performative) space—the frames within which people were constructed as ritual subjects—as opposed to the specific artefacts used by people within ritual.”¹⁰ Cultic architecture thus mediates a dialogue between the designers of the space and its audience, between the representatives of the cult and its followers. The analysis of architectural and decorative features gives limited insight into the impact of these spaces, which, in virtue of being designed to host rituals, had to stimulate a certain emotional response and transmit a particular worldview.¹¹ The feelings conveyed by the spaces remain, I believe, outside our reach. The identification of the ritual experience’s symbolic connotations casts light on the intentions of those who designed the spaces and the ritual performance, not on the effect it had on the audience. The researcher cannot infer the sentiment of the believer taking Communion by identifying the type of bread and wine used for the Eucharist. In ideal conditions, information regarding the constitutive elements of the experience offers an insight into the formation and intentions of the persons orchestrating it. Similarly, the analysis of Late Antique sacraments and their staging reveals the intentions of their designers rather than the response of their audience. Like other Late Antique cults, Christianity combined techniques pertaining to the ancient mysteria with cosmological and anthropological postulations of the period. As this analysis shows, Late Antique cults competed for the allegiance of the same audience and offered to many the kind of religious experience that in the ancient world was reserved for the few. The impact of their ritual performances seems to have depended on the capacity of the space to flesh out the Divine Presence, usually as a light theophany. Christianity was especially efficient at creating polysemous ritual settings. The manner in which the light effects were produced is fundamental as it reveals both the nature of the ritual experience and the relationship between Christianity and Late Antique society writ large. The study of the role played by light in the mise-en-scènes thus becomes a study of Late Antique anthropology and its relation to ritual practice, revealing the efforts made in the period to materialise the divine.

 Elsner : .  Janes :  “The ritual stage is a place for making a view of the world clear, though that view may be a fiction.”

Introduction

7

The relevance of these ritual stages and performances becomes clear when addressed vis-à-vis the cultural background of their audience. Disagreeing with the opinion that “what happens in the eyes and in the brain of an attentive twenty-century beholder may not be all that different from what happened in those of the sixth-century one”,¹² I argue that perception is moulded by the cultural context.¹³ I follow the approach introduced by Elsner, who, in his analysis of the Church of St. Catherine in Sinai, addressed the Church not from a technical point of view but in relation to its purpose and audience, and revealed its role as both a vehicle of manipulated knowledge and instrument of theophany.¹⁴ Ekphrasis, a type of description specific to the period, aids the analysis. While in general ekphraseis describe “a living response to works of art, and one which is perceptual rather than objectively descriptive” and can be used to “examine perceptions of art rather than particular works”,¹⁵ in the case of Late Antique churches, extant ekphraseis reflect the intended meaning, being written by members of the same cultural stratum that designed the spaces.¹⁶ Addressing the educated part of the audience, ekphraseis functioned in a manner similar to that of the visual programs.¹⁷ Both discourses, the rhetorical and the visual, had the same purpose, to present the setting as an imprint of heaven, and thus legitimise the ritual performance and the performers. These texts corroborate my contention that the conceptual horizon against which these experiences were meant to be judged was not strictly Christian, but the Late Antique cultural humus from which a new anthropological paradigm and ritual concept emerged.

Outline of the Study The theophanic dimension of the settings of baptism and the Eucharistic liturgy —the main Christian sacraments in the period—represents the primary subject of this book. In particular, by considering how light moulded the perception of spaces, I show that light effects substantiated the divine. The methods and im Kiilerich : . Ousterhout : , on the other hand, pointed out that “Any examination of Byzantine architecture must begin with the ‘deprogramming’ of the modern viewer.”  Cf. e. g. Nelson .  Coleman and Elsner , Elsner :  – , Elsner and Wolf .  James and Webb : , .  As pointed out by Cox Miller :  and Kiilerich : , ekphraseis of churches were meant to manipulate the perception of the space.  While ekphraseis were meant mainly for the educated, the visual programs had a broader audience. According to Dautermann-Maguire et al. : , “Material culture provides […] an insight into the attitudes and artistic concerns of ordinary people […] The written materials reflect only the reactions of the educated, who were a small proportion of the total population.”

8

Introduction

agery used in the staging, found in other cults as well, testify to Christianity following the common ritual practice of the time. In this way, it becomes obvious that, 1) Late Antique liturgical settings built by the Christians need to be addressed from the prism of the believer, whose cultural baggage was composed mainly of non-Christian elements, and 2) that the purpose of the ritual stages was the altering of the clergy’s ontological status. Consequently, I undermine the commonly held idea that Justinian’s Hagia Sophia was a relatively early catalyst for the type of ritual that fused heaven and earth in order to grant access to divine realities. On the contrary, the Constantinopolitan Church represents the ultimate expression of a process that characterised Christianity in the fifth and sixth centuries. I trace the evolution of the process from its origin to the complex ritual stages it produced in the sixth century CE. While the general context is sketched in thick lines, two historical moments, associated with complex structures that allow for a thorough analysis, represent the focus of the book. The two sacraments, baptism and the Eucharistic liturgy, present us with radically different scenarios: one was nocturnal, the other diurnal; one relied on artificial light, the other mainly on natural light; one was enacted in vertical spaces, the other in horizontal ones; one addressed non-Christians, the other principally a Christian audience. As a result, the two rituals require different approaches. While the main task of this book, the analysis of the ritual scene in relation to the cultural background and ritual expectations of its envisioned audience, remains a constant, the methodology applied in the two parts of the book differs due to the diverse character of the ritual experience and of the available sources. Reflecting these differences, the book has two sections. The first section focuses on the use of light during baptism and the second on the context of the Eucharistic liturgy. Preceded by a short introduction, the first section sketches the context in which the light used in the sacrament of baptism came to be regarded as representing its divine counterpart. Developed in parallel and reciprocal influence with an anthropological discourse that postulated the ideal human being as the image of God, the technical manipulation of light can only be understood in relation to this debate on the iconic potential of the person. The long, theoretical introduction shows the dependence of the use of light on the development of iconic anthropology and serves as the basis for analysis of the Orthodox Baptistery (redecorated ca. 458). Judged from the perspective of its audience, the Baptistery displays a fascinating combination of Christian and non-Christians elements and motifs, whose relevance in the context of the ritual is discussed. Chapter two of the first section deals with the cappella arcivescovile in Ravenna (ca. 520). Part of the same cultic complex as the Orthodox Baptistery, the chapel enriches our knowledge of the initiatory process. Interpreted in a bap-

Introduction

9

tismal key, the structure testifies to the essentially visionary character of the experience. The second section focuses on the Eucharist, with particular attention paid to the Church of San Vitale in Ravenna (ca. 547). Analysed in relation to the contemporary basilicas of Sant’Apollinare in Classe and the Eufrasiana in Poreč, but also with an eye to Hagia Sophia in Constantinople and St. Catherine in Sinai, the building reveals the coherent manner in which churches built during the reign of Justinian used light phenomena. This section places necessary emphasis upon the manner in which the perception of the Late Antique person differed from our own, the analysis showing how the elements composing the space were essentially luminous. At the centre, the figure of the bishop emerges as focal point, concentrating the effects of the alchemic process that rendered the materiality of these spaces uncertain. Both the Orthodox Baptistery and the church of San Vitale appear as ideal case studies. The Baptistery preserves a nearly complete decorative program made in the golden age of the baptismal ritual. Usually treated as an unicum, this analysis reveals that the Orthodox Baptistery was in fact typical. Comparison with the imagery used in other baptisteries and in written sources shows that the program in Ravenna is concomitantly typical and exquisite. Our case study for the Eucharistic liturgy, the Ravennate church dedicated to San Vitale, is part of a number of churches built during the reign of Emperor Justinian (527– 65). The revelatory dimension of these spaces, attested by the theophanic character of their iconographies, was assured through the use of various light effects. Since it reunites all known techniques, the church of San Vitale provides the context to discuss them. Found at the geographic and cultural crossroad of East and West, the upper-Adriatic area allows the use of written testimonies preserved in both areas, a luxury other areas do not concede.¹⁸ Furthermore, the two historical moments to which the case studies pertain are periods of great cultural coherence at the level of the erudite elite, who produced the spaces. We are thus presented with two representative structures, whose relevance is extended beyond the limits of their town, and which reflect the choices of Christian leaders in two generations that shaped Christianity and Late Antique society. An excursus on the oratory of Santa Maria in Valle in Cividale allows me to synthesise my thesis regarding the use of light in the period. Built on the eve of the Carolingian Renaissance, the small chapel known as the Tempietto Longobardo combines Roman, Byzantine, and Lombard features. Producing in various

 Krautheimer :  considered Ravenna and Istria the two gates through which Eastern elements penetrated the early medieval architecture of Western Europe.

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Fig. 2. Map of the northern-Adriatic ca. 500. After Shepherd 1911, modified.

manners the Divine Light that legitimised the ritual’s pretension to give access to divine realities, each of the buildings analysed testifies to the relevance and centrality of light in the design and theological program displayed through the structures.¹⁹

 Given that modern translations diluted the literalness of the promises of vision and transformation present in Patristic texts, I reproduced the original whenever the fragment was relevant to the argument. When more than one translation was available, I chose the more literal ones. When English translations were not available, I provided translations in French or Italian. For the original texts the Migne edition was generally used, with the problems that this edition poses. Finally, due to the very large number of titles that were consulted, the subject of the

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Since ritual spaces functioned as Gesamtkunstwerke, the study of only the luminous aspect may seem reductive. Nevertheless, because light cut through the main categories composing the space and the experience it offered (architecture, decoration, iconography, theology, philosophy, ritual), and because sight was the preeminent sense in Late Antique society, the study of the luminous dimension of ritual spaces is a scholarly desideratum—one that leads, I hope, to further studies that reveal the theophanic implications of other sensual dimensions (auditory, olfactory, tactile, gustatory).²⁰

Lux, lumen, and Cultic Spaces in Modern Scholarship A scholarly awareness of the relation between the perception of art and conditions of light began in earnest with Wolfgang Schöne’s introduction of the concept of Standtortlicht. ²¹ Nevertheless, only recently have archaeologists and architectural historians emphasised the role of light in the perception of premodern cultic spaces, as they explored the materiality of artefacts and spaces in relation to their illumination, to the onlooker’s position, and to other aspects related to the process of perception. Concurrently, scholars began to take into consideration the synaesthetic character of ritual experiences and consequently to appreciate the role of the senses in the relationship a person developed with the divine through cultic spaces.²² The process led to the recognition of the fact that “within the Christian tradition, there is an apparent effort to give physical form and meaning to light and its potency in a tangible way.”²³ It is on this aspect that the present study focuses: the manners in which the Divine Light (lux / δόξα / ‫ ) ָכּבוֹ‬became visible through its earthly counterpart (lumen), by means of a complex combination of constructive methods and perceptual manipulation. Erwin Panofsky opened this scholarly path by discerning a relationship between Gothic architecture and the Neoplatonic appreciation of light.²⁴ Then, a number of studies addressed the use of light in Christian culture. Beginning with Gianni Triantafillide’s measurements of the distribution of light in Byzanbook intersecting themes on which it has been published extensively, the bibliography is restricted to the studies mentioned in the text.  Ashbrook Harvey a and ; Pentcheva  and ; Caseau  and ; Williamson  addressed various aspects pertaining to the implications of senses other than sight in the perception of cultic spaces and rituals.  Schöne  and . See also Sedlmayr . On the subject see more in Mondini and Ivanovici (eds.) .  Caseau ; James ; Pentcheva ; Hunter Crawley a.  Bogdanović : .  Panofsky .

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tine churches, published in 1964, the interest in the use of light in Byzantine architecture grew.²⁵ D.R. Dendy made a notable contribution as he collected textual references regarding the use of artificial illumination in Christian rituals. Roland Günter explored the aesthetic impact of the highly fenestrated space of the basilica. Giselle de Nie showed how light’s immateriality was used by bishops to alter the perception of the cultic spaces’ materiality.²⁶ Iakovos Potamianos analysed the Byzantine relationship between structure, fenestration, sunlight, and ritual in an interdisciplinary perspective that would shape subsequent studies. Potamianos connected light obtained through various techniques with that found in Byzantine philosophical and theological treatises and showed the relation between material and divine light.²⁷ Under the influence of Liz James’ seminal book, Light and Colour in Byzantine Art, the study of light has received new momentum.²⁸ Studies of Justinian’s Hagia Sophia have revealed various aspects of the Great Church’s lighting system, testifying to the careful programming of illumination and unveiling its symbolic implications.²⁹ Nadine Schibille’s analysis of Hagia Sophia as an expression of Neoplatonic principles explored an important aspect of the experience offered in Justinian’s churches.³⁰ Schibille identified the space of Hagia Sophia as an expression of Divine Light; the interior’s luminosity bridged heaven and earth.³¹ Approaching the use of light from a different point of view, Patricia Cox Miller showed how Late Antique bishops consciously utilised light to alter the perception of the materiality of human remains: to make relics out of bones. ³² Drawing on the results of these studies, I show the conceptual context in which such artifices came to be used. I then ponder their relevance in fifthand sixth-century liturgical spaces, as well as their effect on the perception of living bodies caught in the ritual. By integrating ritual performance with the

 Triantafillide .  Dendy ; Günter ; de Nie .  Potamianos .  James . Various aspects of the illumination of church spaces were studied by Pejakovic ; Piotrowski , ; Pavolini ; Schibille , , a, b; di Bennardo ; Nesbitt , ; Elsner and Wolf ; Knight ; Fobelli and Cesaretti ; Gavril .  Schibille , , a, b; Fobelli and Cesaretti ; Gavril .  Schibille b. While in the case of Hagia Sophia, the Neoplatonic dimension that represented the main system of thought of the Constantinopolitan intelligentsia might have prevailed, it nevertheless remained only one of many systems of thought to which the space made reference.  Schibille : .  Cox Miller .

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analysis of space, I enrich the view offered by approaches that identify solely the technical artifices used to materialise the divine light. Christian cultic spaces had to make use of common, easily comprehensible motifs, as they addressed an audience with varied cultural and religious backgrounds. As already argued, light was the one element that stood for the divine in all possible manners in Late Antiquity. Legitimised by the light bathing them, the interiors displayed complex programs in which the main message, the subjection of the cosmos to the Christian god, was rendered in a manner that was both obvious and allowed for further symbolic interpretation. This dual symbolic affordance reflected the structure of the audience, which was formed of two basic categories: catechised and non-catechised persons. One cannot thus reduce these spaces to a single perspective, even that of their designers.³³ Schibille’s analysis of the meaning of Hagia Sophia in the culture of its designers represents one aspect of the phenomenon. The present study complements Schibille’s approach with an effort to determine the significance these spaces had in Late Antique society writ large. Central in the “visual rhetoric of sanctity”³⁴ of most cults, light represented the elemental symbolic level that addressed the audience tout entier. The luminous potential of the spaces represents the gist of the visual discourse aimed specifically at the non-catechised audience. The reproduction of the structure and atmosphere of heaven appealed to a visceral perceptual level and created the fundament on which various rhetorics were constructed.³⁵ The study of the worldview promoted through these spaces thus begins with this level that legitimised the space.³⁶

 This is best shown by the concept of χορός, which is fundamental to the spatial and liturgical experience offered in Hagia Sophia. Present in Neoplatonic philosophy, it goes back to Presocratic culture and had a plethora of symbolic connotations. Each onlooker that recognised the embedding of the concept in the church’s design was likely to interpret it according to his or her personal cultural baggage. On the concept of χορός, see Isar , a, b, .  Hahn : . Cynthia Hahn’s study was one of the first to show the staging of the experiences one had in Christian sanctuaries in Late Antiquity.  Various symbolic layers overlap in cultic spaces cf. Kilde .  “Rituals must be understood in terms of the world view that they express” cf. Mann : .

Paulinus of Nola and the New Visual Rhetoric of Sanctity Monumental Christian cultic architecture exhibited from the very beginning an interest in the illuminative setting. As indicated by the Liber Pontificalis, the five-nave basilica commissioned in Lateran by Emperor Constantine (306 – 37) had a great number of lights that stressed the sacrality of certain spaces.³⁷ The presbytery showcased the more impressive lighting fixtures, with the rest of the spaces in a hierarchy recognisable through the lights’ number and richness. The distribution matches that of windows in Constantinian and post-Constantinian basilicas, with the amount of natural light stressing the presbytery and main nave’s prominence. Presented as participative—tapping into the ontological reality of the moment they recreated—baptism and the Eucharistic liturgy were revelatory performances. It was the capacity of the light and other elements (incense, purple, etc.) present in cultic spaces to substantiate the Divine Presence that legitimised these ritual stages as revelatory. The development of a participatory, theophanic concept of ritual was influenced by the collapsing of heaven and earth enacted through the illumination. Access to resources and know-how, competition with cults that used similar techniques, and recognition of matter as a receptacle of the divine in the context of the Christological debates allowed bishops to rethink the relation between ritual, space, and the presence of God. A first phase saw the recognition of the evocative and symbolic potential of cultic architecture, with bishops using the features of the spaces to support the symbolism of the ritual experience. The next generation of bishops designed spaces that purposefully cultivated the relation between the ritual and its mise-en-scène. The symbolic capital produced by the theophanic dimension of the space was invested in various aspects of the cult.³⁸ One of the first to address the process was Paulinus of Nola (ca. 354– 431). To the discontent of his wealthy peers, Paulinus decided to renounce the world and live ascetically at the tomb of St. Felix near Naples. Redirecting part of the funds at his disposal to build and embellish a cultic complex, Paulinus used in his building activity the kind of programmatic design that makes the

 L.P. . – .  On other processes these buildings stimulated, see Limberis . On the overlapping of various symbolic layers in cultic spaces, see Kilde .

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subject of our study.³⁹ The landlord-turned-ascetic carefully staged the visitor’s experience through the interplay of architecture, decoration, lighting, iconography, and inscriptions. The purpose, he confessed, was to instil in onlookers the sentiment of the saint’s presence.⁴⁰ The result of the staging was both the conversion and the sensorial education of the visitors: haec adsueta diu sacris seruire profanis uentre deo, tandem conuertitur aduena Christo, dum sanctorum opera in Christo mirantur aperta. cernite quam multi coeant ex omnibus agris quamque pie rudibus decepti mentibus errent. […] propterea visum nobis opus utile totis Felicis domibus pictura ludere sancta, si forte adtonitas haec per spectacula mentes agrestum caperet fucata coloribus umbra, quae super exprimitur titulis, ut littera monstret quod manus explicuit, dumque omnes picta vicissim ostendunt releguntque sibi, vel tardius escae sint memores, dum grata oculis ieiuna pascunt, atque ita se melior stupefactis inserat usus, dum fallit pictura famem; ⁴¹

 For the complex at Nola, see Lehmann . For the use of light, see de la Portbarré-Viard . For cases other than Nola, see Hahn .  The emotion produced by such ritual settings was associated with the presence of the divine, rendering them theophanic, cf. e. g. John Chrysostom’s (ca.  – ) De S. Babyla, contra Julianum et gentiles .  Paulinus of Nola Carm. . –  […]  –  (ed. de Hartel :  – , trans. DavisWeyer [] : ) “These people, for long accustomed to profane cults, in which their belly was their God, are at last converted into proselytes for Christ while they admire the works of the saints in Christ open to everybody’s gaze. See how many from all parts come together and how they look wonderingly round, their rude minds piously beguiled […] Therefore it seemed to us useful work gaily to embellish Felix’ houses all over with sacred paintings in order to see whether the spirit of the peasants would not be surprised by this spectacle and undergo the influence of the coloured sketches which are explained by inscriptions over them […] perhaps a better habit will thus in their stupefaction take root in them, because of the paintings artfully diverting their thoughts from their hunger.” (emphasis mine) See also Carm. . –  (ed. de Hartel : , trans. Walsh : ) “si nobis doctrina dei de lumina uerbi, non aperit sensum, saltem capiamus ab ipsis aedibus exempla, et lapides ac ligna magistri sint stolidis, ut quale manu confecimus istic tale fide faciamus opus;” / “If God’s teaching does not give us understanding from the light of the Word, let us at least obtain a model for life from these buildings. Let the stone and timber teach us dullards, so that by faith we may achieve the kind of building we have completed here with our hands.”

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Attempting to divert the pilgrims’ attention from rambunctious feasts to a calmer spectacle, bishops belonging to an aristocracy cognisant of art’s potential gave awe-inspiring material settings to the sacraments.⁴² A selection of motifs synthesising theological statements replaced the former style of church decoration that was based on depicting elements indicating the committente’s belonging to a cultured and rich intelligentsia (hunting or bucolic scenes, maps, mythological episodes, portraits, etc.)⁴³ At Nola, a combination of lighting and decoration reproduced inside the church the atmosphere believed to characterise heaven.⁴⁴ Carved into the walls of churches, apses decorated with golden mosaic, rich draperies, precious metals, and gems produced an unearthly glow: aurea nunc niueis ornantur limina uelis, clara coronantur densis altaria lichnis, lumina ceratis adolentur odora papyris, nocte dieque micant. Sic nox splendore diei fulget et ipsa dies caelesti inlustris honore plus nitet innumeris lucem geminata lucernis. ⁴⁵

 E. g. Gregory of Nyssa (ca.  – ) De deitate filii et spiritus sancti PG .. On Paulinus’ attitude towards art, see Junaud-Ammerbauer :  – ; de la Portbarré-Viard : . On the manner in which Ambrose of Milan (ca.  – ) and Cyril of Jerusalem (ca.  – ) used the material context to supplement the ritual, see Hellemo .  For the fourth-century decorative style, see e.g the mosaic pavement of the Aquileia cathedral. On the beginnings of the selection process, see Nilus of Sinai († ca. ) Ep. to Olympiodorus PG . – .  Melania the Younger (Life of Melania ), whose personal income was ten times that of the church of Ravenna, tells of the otherworldly radiance of the gold amassed in her chambers, an effect that the bishops sought to replicate in churches. Cox Miller  explored the technique with regards to relics. See also Hahn .  Paulinus of Nola Carm. . – (ed. de Hartel : , trans. Roberts : ) “The gold thresholds are now bedecked with snow-white hangings, the bright altars are wreathed with innumerable lights, and the lamps give off a fragrant scent from their wax-coated wicks, alight night and day. So night flames with the brilliance of day, and the daylight itself, illuminated by the glory of heaven, gains more radiance, its light redoubled by the countless lanterns.”

Paulinus of Nola and the New Visual Rhetoric of Sanctity

Fig. . Presbytery and apse of San Vitale in Ravenna (ca. ), seen from the gallery.

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Designed to dazzle the fearful minds of the rustici, these spaces offered a taste of heaven: …ibi lumina prorsus accendi maiora decet mundique tenebras inlustrante deo perimi mentesque retusis adtonitas oculis trepidasque intendere ad ipsos diuini ueri radios… ⁴⁶

As noted by Rico Franses, characteristic of settings such as the one Paulinus describes was that the object at the centre appeared as the very source of the scene’s luminosity.⁴⁷ As the space and its elements were judged in relation to the luminous object at the centre, which lent its sacredness to the entire scene, the perception of the context’s materiality was altered. The effect, it turns out, was well known by Paulinus: est etiam interior sinu maioris in aulae insita cella procul quasi filia culminis eius, stellato speciosa tholo trinoque recess dispositis sinuate locis; medio pietatis fonte nitet mireque simul nouat atque nouatur. namque hodie bis eam geminate nouatia comit ⁴⁸

The technique was not new. It had been developed in a baptismal context, where it was used to indicate the transformation of the baptisand’s materiality through the ritual. Let us now trace the evolution of the process chronologically and analyse its relevance in the staging of baptism and the Eucharistic liturgy.

 Paulinus of Nola Carm. . –  (ed. de Hartel : , trans. Walsh : ) “that the gloom of the world should be dispersed by divine illumination, that dazed and fearful minds and dulled eyes may be directed to the very rays of divine truth.”  Franses : .  Paulinus of Nola Carm. . –  (ed. de Hartel : , trans. Walsh : ) “Somewhat farther within the larger church a room has been built into the outer wall, almost as a kind of offering. Its star-spangled dome makes it beautiful […] The source of devotion at its centre lends it brilliance, and in a remarkable way it both transforms the whole and is itself transformed.”

I Light in Late Antique Baptismal Theory and Practice Although in Late Antiquity a person’s first contact with Christian cultic spaces took place in churches that were open to all, the key to fully understanding the visual program and the possibility of taking part in the Eucharistic ritual were given at baptism. To the unbaptised, the iconography of churches must have seemed ambivalent as they recognised the overall meaning—the Christian God’s dominion over creation—but failed to distinguish the relevance of all the details. Developed in the catacombs to strengthen one’s feeling of belonging to a privileged community, the practice of using common iconographic motifs along with a particular interpretative key—the deliberate creation of what Elsner has called an “initiate subjectivity”⁴⁹—subsequently functioned as a proselytising instrument, with curiosity as an incentive. In the case of baptismal art, the semantic ambiguity was sought on purpose. Scenes that were operative on two or more interpretative levels evoked the perceptual changes enacted in the ritual, as the clergy promoted baptism as an event that opened one’s understanding.⁵⁰ The target audience of the bishops was far from skeptical. As shown in Robin Lane Fox’s study on Pagans and Christians, in Late Antiquity the divine permeated the world as never before, and manifested in both old and new ways.⁵¹ The situation reflected, of course, the people’s desire to encounter the divine. Throughout the period, there are reports of people ready to leave everything behind and travel the known world to see the divine reflected on the face of a saint or in a lifelike representation.⁵² To those for whom traveling to Eleusis or Samothrace to be initiated in traditional mysteria was not possible, cults like Mithraism and Christianity offered a similar experience in their home towns. Drawing on the experience of ancient mysteria, some Late Antique cults designed rituals that combined cosmological and anthropological postulations of the period with the goal of traditional initiations, that is, the removal of the fear of death through rituals that revealed to the initiate secrets which assured his or her

 Elsner : .  Maguire a:  noticed that “Especially during the reign of Justinian, some works of art exhibited a kaleidoscopic shifting and overlapping of meanings, and in particular a use of ambiguous symbols to reconcile religious and political ideas.” I argue that this complexity mirrors the character of the audience.  Fox .  Frank b.

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immortality.⁵³ The Late Antique component startled scholars attempting to show the dependence of Christian baptism on ancient mysteria. ⁵⁴ I argue that the Christian sacraments need to be compared with rituals developed by other cults in the same period, not with those of antiquity. The analysis shows that these cults made use of techniques and motifs popularised by ancient practices and combined them with Late Antique elements. The same applies, I will show, to Christian baptism. Drawing on the experience of mysteria, which used secrecy to stimulate curiosity and enhance tension, bishops cloaked the exact nature of the Christian initiation. The disciplina arcani forbade believers to discuss the details of the mise-en-scène. The practice shaped the catechetical process, and made it more difficult for the modern researcher to reconstruct it.⁵⁵ The long preparation, which took between three years and a lifetime in the first centuries CE, addressed mastering the Christian way of life, rather than allowing an acquaintance with Christian theology.⁵⁶ Only baptism revealed knowledge, since, the bishops agreed, it opened one’s understanding, and allowed penetrating the religion’s divine mysteries. The last part of the catechetical process, which led to baptism proper, concentrated a selection of themes meant not so much to reveal the core of Christian tenets as to inculcate fear and other emotions. Set in the fourth century during Lent, the forty-day period that preceded the ritual intensified the teaching. Daily sermons and exorcisms complemented fasting and a recurrent stressing of the catechumens’ marginality.⁵⁷ By promising the sight of God upon baptism and stressing the potentially destructive effect of the experience (described using references to Old Testament theophanies), bishops created a tension that assured a cathartic sentiment of worthiness and relief would manifest upon the completion of the ritual without incident. Furthermore, the ritual’s perception was manipulated through fasting which, combined with psychological stress, is known to affect sensual perception.⁵⁸

 On ancient mysteria, see Bowden . On Christian baptism as fulfilling the same purpose, see John Chrysostom Bapt. Instr. ., trans. below.  Scholars have long debated the relation between the mysteria and Christian sacraments, holding that the latter drew on the former in a direct manner. See the recent synthesis of the main theses, from Rudolf Steiner to Jonathan Z. Smith, in Bremmer :  – .  On secrecy and its effect, see the discussion in Schwartz :  – , with bibliography.  E. g. Ps.-Dionysius Eccl. Hier. ... See the discussion in Ivanovici a.  On baptism in general in the period, see Johnson ; Ferguson ; Jensen  and ; Hellholm et al. (eds.) .  Pilch :  –  “Fasting, darkness and sleep deprivation provided agitation or arousal of the spirit. […] as one example, fasting or nutritional deficits affect serotonin synthesis in the human body and produce emotional disturbances, hallucinations, alterations in cognitive and

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Given that pre-baptismal sermons were made for an audience with minimum knowledge of Christianity, and that they were meant to prepare one for a specific ritual experience, these sermons must be recognised as a separate category of Christian discourse. Consequently, the space and ritual of baptism should be judged primarily in relation to these lectures that shaped one’s perception of the ritual experience. Along with what one might call the “common ritual expectations of the Late Antique person”, these selective teachings represented the audience’s perceptual filter for the sacrament.⁵⁹ Addressing a diverse audience, the imagery had not only to accommodate different levels of understanding, but also to facilitate progression from a common epistemic level to a particular, Christian one. Since they promoted baptism as an event that opened one’s understanding, bishops consciously encouraged iconographic polysemy on theological and ritual grounds. Scenes that were operative on two or more interpretative levels evoked the perceptual changes enacted in the ritual. The space of baptism was the visual element of a carefully orchestrated acculturation, as this analysis demonstrates. Catecheses and ritual reproduced what was commonly held to be a life-altering experience in Late Antique society. Post-rite sermons support my contention that bishops consciously shaped baptism using other rituals as model, with the texts revealing the direct manner in which catechumens understood the promises of theophanic manifestations and physical transformation made in pre-baptismal catecheses. These post factum sermons deflected the theophanic dimension of the experience, so prominent and direct in pre-baptismal lectures, toward certain details of the ritual, in an attempt to contain the neophytes’ disappointment. A turning point in the development of the ritual was the adoption of a nocturnal setting. With it, artificial lights assumed a central role, as they intermediated the experience, and eventually shaped the mise-en-scène. Nevertheless, despite this development, and the common equation of light with the divine in the period, the relation between baptism, light, and material setting remains unexplored, even though the lighting changes the perspective on the building and the ritual it hosted.⁶⁰ Reconstructing the original situation as far as possible, I argue emotional functioning, and occasionally symptoms that are interpreted as possession (e. g., convulsions, see Mark : – //).”  For the need to address the material culture of Late Antiquity through a “Late Antique common sense”, see Hunter Crawley a.  When dealing with Late Antique baptisteries, most studies overlook their nocturnal use. E. g. Isella :  “È coretto pensare che la distribuzione della luce all’interno dell’edificio fosse stata attentamente studiata già da Ambrogio e poi da Lorenzo I ( – ); oltre agli effetti d’illuminazione indiretta ottenuti dalle finestre e dalla supposta galleria, la decorazione, da adde-

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that inside baptisteries bishops strove to orchestrate the same kind of ritual experience that other cults offered in the period. The only Late Antique baptistery preserving enough of the original decorative program to allow for a thorough analysis—that of the Orthodox in Ravenna—emerges as the main source for the period. In its present form, the building belongs to the phase in which monumental baptisteries were built to complement a fully developed theology and anthropology of baptism. While Cyril of Jerusalem or Ambrose of Milan included the particularities of the ritual scene in the discourse, aiding the symbolism of the act through the setting, fifth century baptisteries seem to have been designed in coordination with the act’s symbolic and pragmatic needs.⁶¹ Analysed vis-à-vis the imagery used by bishops in pre-baptismal catecheses, the expectations of the audience, and the setting in the coeval baptistery from Naples, the scene in the Orthodox Baptistery loses its unique character and emerges as a rather typical (if technically exquisite) enactment of Late Antique baptismal theory and practice. The analysis shows that the manifestation of the Christian God at the centre of a light theophany underpinned the purpose of the mise-en-scène. The relation between baptism and light in Late Antiquity resulted from an apocryphal tradition that attested to a light theophany taking place at Jesus’ baptism; present in various sources dating from the second to the eighth centuries.⁶² Early Christian communities, perhaps stimulated by the use of luminous artifices in other cults, attempted to recreate the effect through more-or-less successful methods that went from fire branding to the enkindling of the water’s

bitare a Lorenzo I, doveva giocare un ruolo fondamentale nella definizione di un ambiente di grande suggestione.” Although, according to Ambrose of Milan De Myst. . and ., the initiation took place at night.  de Blaauw :  and Brandt :  –  argued for the ritual needs having precedence in the design of baptisteries over features inherited from the architecture of mausolea and baths.  The earliest attestation is Justin Martyr (ca.  – ) Dial. Tryph. .. On the fragment, see Bammel ; Petersen :  – . Drijvers and Reinink  argued that Tatian ( – ) transformed fire into light to suit his theology of the Logos. The Gospel of the Ebionites (cf. Epiphanius Panarion ..) also speaks of light. Drijvers and Reinink deduced the author’s use of Tatian, opinion not supported by Ferguson :  n. . The tradition appears in the Old Itala version of Mt. ., the fourth-century Codex Vercellensis, and the eighth-century Codex Sangermanensis. Ferguson :  read the Testament of Levi . –  and the Sibylline Oracles . –  as reflecting the tradition. Cyril of Jerusalem Myst. Cat. . also mentioned the light. The combination of water and fire as means of purification was common in antiquity, see Dendy : . The event is depicted in a manuscript illumination found in the sixth-century Rabbula Gospels, now in the Biblioteca Medicea Laurenziana, cod. Plut. I, , fol. v.

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surface.⁶³ The result was that the light used in the ritual came to be seen as divine, and the ritual moved to nighttime to enhance the light’s visionary effect. The scene in the Orthodox Baptistery in Ravenna thus is the result of a long technical and conceptual evolution; the remarkable complexity of the scene appears when contextualised by this process. First, in section one, the relation between baptism, light, and theophany as reflected in second- and third-century sources is addressed. The variety of practices at this stage reflects the situation of the cult, since Christianity included dispersed communities that combined the following of Jesus with various local traditions. As with many other aspects of the cult, a greater conceptual and ritual coherence was reached in the fourth century. Influenced by a number of phenomena, both internal and external to Christianity, fourth-century bishops changed the concept and setting of the ritual. This new type of baptism is addressed in section two, with an accent on the Ambrosian tradition and its Ravennate interpretation reflected in the Orthodox Baptistery’s architecture and decoration. Adapting Ambrosian practice to a fifth-century scenario, Bishop Peter Chrysologus of Ravenna (ca. 380 – 450) serves as a first interpretative layer, with a second one represented by the common ritual expectations of the time, the latter indicated by elements present also in competing cults.

I.1 Initiation and Light Theophanies in Late Antiquity Extant information regarding the Christian initiation in the second and third centuries CE reflects the cult’s situation in the period. Baptism texts and archaeology display a diversity of practice, as well as a high level of conceptual coherence. Many Christian communities practiced baptism as a combination of ancient purification rituals, the baptism of Jesus, and Late Antique ritual commonalities. The act marked one’s entrance into the community of the saints and was promoted as a life-altering, unique experience that transformed the very nature of the initiate. Gnostic communities emphasised the transformative dimension of baptism following Paul, who presented it as a “putting on” of Christ (Gal. 3.27).⁶⁴

 Cosentino  discusses all known methods.  In Gnosticism, light was the main generative principle, as well as the nature of the Redeemer (the φωστήρ) and the elect. On light in Gnosticism, see Filoramo ; Turner . The theme of light is central and recurrent in Gnostic texts but it is difficult to discern when authors refer to its use in ritual settings.

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Following the process that led to the “classical” form of the sacrament in the fourth century, I favour sources that engage with this subsequent evolution. In the absence of a better formula, I refer to these sources as proto-orthodox, given their role in what was to become the common Christian view and practice in the fourth century. For the second and third centuries the writings of the socalled Apologetic Fathers are used, with texts by Clement of Alexandria, Origen, or Methodius of Olympus being preferred to those by Gnostic teachers or produced by Judeo-Christian communities. Although reductive, the method reveals the context in which the concept of baptism that was to become popular in the following period appeared, shedding light on its relation to a particular anthropological discourse and stressing the role played by light.⁶⁵ Proto-orthodox communities associated baptism with martyrdom and developed it in relation to this. At the end of a mimetic life moulded on that of Jesus— a process that began with baptism—the martyr re-enacted the ultimate sacrifice for the community, an act that transformed him into a vessel of God (cf. Mk. 13.11, Mt. 10.19 – 20, Lk. 12.11– 2). The initiation practiced by the cult drew its legitimacy from the same mimetic concept, the baptisand partaking in Christ by imitating His baptism.⁶⁶ The Christic character of the baptisand was stimulated by particularities of the mise-en-scène, as well as by developments that affected the cult tout entier. Among these, the effect light had during the enactment and the favouring of an iconic anthropological discourse appear to have been the most influential. Presented as a ritual re-enactment of the baptism of Jesus, the Christian initiation cultivated the association of light with the presence of the divine. Jesus’ personal purity rendered His baptism useless, bishops agreed. His gesture thus was exemplary, establishing a practice that had to imitate the original as closely as possible.⁶⁷ Attempts of early Christian communities to reproduce the light theophany by using special effects, and the descent of the Holy Spirit through the use of metal doves hanging above the font, indicate their belief in the capacity of mimetic acts to participate in the ontological reality of the original only as far  Iconic anthropology, visionary ascensions, or light as theophanic medium are central themes in texts ascribed to Judeo-Christian milieux and I hope that with the recognition of the fact that in proto-orthodox communities these concepts were often given various ritual stagings, scholars will seek to discern if such enactments apply to other groups.  I prefer baptisand to catechumen or neophyte because it nominates the person going through the final stages of the baptismal process. While catechumenate took years, and one was considered a neophyte for at least one year after baptism, baptisand indicates the person during the forty-days final preparation for baptism or undergoing the ritual.  Eusebius of Caesarea (ca.  – ) Vita Const. ..; Ambrose of Milan De Sacr. ..; John Chrysostom Bapt. Instr. . and .; Gregory of Nazianzus (ca.  – ) Or. ..

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as they managed to replicate its features.⁶⁸ By attempting to recreate a moment of the deity’s life, Christian baptism fell into the category of dromena. ⁶⁹ When the purpose of the practice was initiatory, dromena often allowed the initiate to identify with the god. Such rituals are known to cultivate an atmosphere that helped collapse present and past, and light was often a key element in the experience due to its association with the divine in general, and with the baptism of Jesus in particular. Competing with other cults and Christian groups for legitimacy, early Christian communities depended on the capacity of their rituals and dogmas to attract and convince.⁷⁰ Between the middle of the second century CE, when Justin Martyr first mentioned the presence of a light at the baptism of Jesus, and the beginning of the fourth century, when Methodius of Olympus († ca. 311) described a concept that was to become normative for baptism, Christian communities experimented with the impact of light as theophanic manifestation during the ritual. The visionary dimension of baptism evoked the ritual’s claim of granting access to heaven. By annulling the Adamic mistake, baptism both rendered neophytes iconic by restoring in them the image of God lost by Adam, and gave them a taste of heaven.⁷¹ The baptistery’s interior reproduced the latter through artificial illumination and light-reflecting decoration. The nomination of baptism as “illumination” (φωτισμός or φώτισμα) and of the baptistery as “the place of illumination” (φωτιστήριον) as well as the depiction of the sacrament as characterised by fire, light, and lighting devices, testify to the centrality of light in the setting.⁷² This relationship became so strong that lighting devices permeated its iconography, with fonts being decorated with images of candles, and candlesticks flanking depictions of the act.⁷³

 On the relation between original and copy in the ancient world, see Lampe and Woollcombe .  On dromena, see Nielsen : .  See Cosentino  on the competition and the various methods to use light in the ritual.  Tertullian (ca.  – ) De Bapt. . considered that Adam retained the imago and had only to regain similitudo, while Irenaeus of Lyon (ca.  – ) Adv. Haer. .. saw Adam as having and losing both image and likeness, and regaining them through the Incarnation. On the belief that the body not the soul was the Image, see Burghardt :  – .  Baptism is identified as “illumination” in Heb. .; Justin Martyr Apol. .., Dial. Tryph. .. On the baptistery, see John Chrysostom Sermo post reditum a priore exsilio ; John Moschus (ca.  – ) Prat. spirit. . On the relation between baptism and illumination, see Ysebaert :  – .  Already in the third-century baptistery in Dura Europos, on one of the walls of the room the women coming to the tomb of Jesus in the early morning, carrying candles were depicted.

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Fig. 4. Ivory panel showing a baptism scence and the disputation in the temple. Possibly northItalian, 5th century, currently in the British Museum. Drawing by D. Ivanovici.

The nocturnal setting adopted by some communities in the third century appears related to the role light played in the mise-en-scène, with the change consecrating the ritual’s essentially luminous nature. The earliest testimony of nocturnal baptism is also the first source describing light’s capacity to offer a theophanic experience. The early third-century Acts of Thomas 26 praised the lavishly illuminated scene, as it claimed that its nocturnal setting was of apostolic origin.⁷⁴ The candles handed to the neophytes at the end of the ritual—practice later used by most Christian communities—enabled the theophany of Christ as a young man was identified as the son of God on account of the greater luminosity of His candle. Later, in Alexandria, Clement (ca. 150 – 215) praised the visionary effect of the lights present in the Christian initiation: Ὢ τῶν ἁγίων ὡς ἀληθῶς μυστηρίων! ὢ φωτὸς ἀκηράτου! Δᾳδουχοῦμαι, τοὺς οὐρανοὺς καὶ τὸν Θεὸν ἐποπτεῦσας· ἅγιος γίνομαι, μυούμενος. Ἱεροφαντεῖ δὲ ὁ Κύριος, καὶ τὸν μύστην σφραγίζεται φωταγωγῶν· καὶ παρατίθεται τῷ Πατρὶ τὸν πεπιστευκότα αἰῶσι τηρούμενον. Ταῦτα τῶν ἐμῶν μυστηρίων τὰ βακχεύματα· εἰ βούλει, καὶ σὺ μυοῦ· καὶ χορεύσεις μετ’ ἀγγέλων ἀμφὶ τὸν ἀγέννητον καὶ ἀνώλεθρον καὶ μόνον ὄντως Θεόν, συνυμνοῦντος ἡμῖν τοῦ Θεοῦ Λόγου.⁷⁵

 Other texts mentioning baptism at night or dawn in the third century are the Testament of the Lord .; the Apostolic Tradition .; the Acts of Paul and Thecla ; the Canons of Hippolytus ; Aphrahat (ca.  – ) Dem. ..  Clement of Alexandria Protr. . –  (ed. PG .A, trans. ANF .) “O truly sacred mysteries! O stainless light! My way is lighted with torches, and I survey the heavens and God; I become holy whilst I am initiated. The Lord is the hierophant, and seals while illuminating him who is initiated, and presents to the Father him who believes, to be kept safe for ever.

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Scholars have sought the reasons behind Clement’s use of a language typical of the ancient mysteria. ⁷⁶ Adopting the “dialectic of appropriation and rejection”⁷⁷ particular to Christianity in the period, Clement seems to base his description of baptism on the rituals of other cults. Studying the background of Clement’s imagery, Arkadi Choufrine argued that for Clement baptism is regeneration, theophany, and admixture of one’s own light with that of the Holy Spirit, resulting in the initiate’s contemplation of his or her own transformation.⁷⁸ This was the very type of experience that Gnostic groups promoted in the period.⁷⁹ Furthermore, Clement’s Paedagogus 1.26.1– 3, with its claim that baptism is called enlightenment because it enables one to behold the holy light of salvation and see God clearly, indicates that he intentionally associated Christian baptism to initiations such as that described by Apuleius (ca. 124– 70) in his Metamorphoses. Written slightly earlier than Clement’s works, the novel culminates with the main character’s initiation into the mysteries of Isis in Egypt. The ritual was a staged death and rebirth that prompted the initiate’s visionary ascension through the cosmos: Accessi confinium mortis et calcato Proserpinae limine per omnia uectus elementa remeaui, nocte media uidi solem candido coruscantem lumine, deos inferos et deos superos accessi coram et adoraui de proximo. ⁸⁰

Preceded by fasting, ritual washings, and waiting in a dark room, the ritual eventually produced a vision of the goddess. Upon exiting the space, the initiate received a lit torch and garments that resembled that of Sol, the sun-god. Accom-

Such are the reveries of my mysteries. If it is thy wish, be thou also initiated; and thou shall join the choir along with angels around the unbegotten and indestructible and the only true God, the Word of God, raising the hymn with us.”  On Clement’s use of the terminology of the mysteria, see Marsh ; Riedweg ; Ferguson :  – .  Elior : .  Choufrine :  – , on Clement of Alexandria Paed. ...  On gnostic initiations, see Turner , ; Filoramo . On baptism in Clement, see Nardi .  Apuleius Met. . (ed. Robertson : , trans. Hanson : ) “I came to the boundary of death, and, having trodden the threshold of Proserpina, I travelled through all the elements and returned. In the middle of the night I saw the sun flashing with bright light. I came face to face with the gods below and the gods above and paid reverence to them from close at hand.”

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panying the new costume was an otherworldly bodily radiance.⁸¹ The priests of Isis then placed the initiate on a podium to be displayed as a cultic image inside the temple. The vision thus transformed him into an iconic presence that reproduced the outlook of the divine for the community of believers.⁸² This was the very ideal of the holy person in Late Antiquity and, we will see, the same stance that Christian baptism purported to enact. The cult of Mithras and Neoplatonic theurgy proposed, in the same period, similar experiences. While the exact character of Mithraic initiations is difficult to ascertain due to the nearly complete lack of textual evidence, the spaces and their iconography reveal enough to infer the nature of the experience. Following an initiation that involved blindfolding, tying up, scaring, and eventually releasing the person—a process which, according to a Christian source, was intended to be regarded as a ritual death and rebirth—the follower of Mithras could advance within the cult by accessing seven initiation steps.⁸³ Fragmentary textual and archaeological information shows the levels of initiation correlated with the cosmic levels represented by the seven planets, which in Late Antiquity were known to comprise the solar system.⁸⁴ Advancement in the cult was assimilated to ascension through the cosmic structure, as in the initiations described in the Metamorphoses of Apuleius and the Mithras Liturgy, the latter a Neoplatonic text.

 In Late Antiquity, many cults included the sun, moon, and other cosmic motifs in their iconographic repertoire; various deities came to be represented as the sun, his equals, or superiors. The  piece costume received by Lucius referenced the zodiac signs, while the solar crown indicated him as an embodiment of a solar deity.  The display of the initiate was also part of the cult of the Magna Mater and Attis cf. Prudentius (ca.  – ) Perist. .. See the discussion in McLynn :  – .  Jerome (ca.  – ) Ep. . gives the seven degrees as Raven, Bridegroom, Soldier, Lion, Perseus, Sun, and Father.  Origen C. Cels.  quotes Celsus on the degrees being associated with the following planets: Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, the Moon, the Sun, Saturn.

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Fig. . Mosaic pavement of the third-century mithraeum of Felicissimus (right) and of the second-century mithraeum of the Seven Spheres (left), both from Ostia. The symbols of the initiatory degrees are shown in the mithraeum of Felicissimus, while the one of the Seven Spheres shows the correlation between the seven cosmic levels represented by the planets (depicted on the inside of the benches), zodiac signs, and degrees of initiation inside the cult. Drawing from Gordon , Fig. .

In Mithraism, the last two levels of initiation rendered one similar to Sol and Mithras, respectively. The Mithraic pater, the last level of initiation, donned the garment of the god and seems to have functioned as his embodiment. A limestone relief found in Konjica shows the followers of Mithras reenacting the dinner he and Sol had after the killing of the bull. Of the six characters present in the scene, the two central ones, feasting on the bull, were obvious impersonations of Mithras and Sol, their identification assured by the popularity of the scene in mithraea. The two that serve at the table wear Phrygian costumes, and probably represent Cautes and Cautopates, Mithras’ servants. The remaining two wear masks of a crow and lion, respectively. It is them who attest, beyond doubt, that the banquet allowed followers of Mithras to identify with the cosmic powers or characters present in the myth of their god, since the crow and lion represented two of the initiatory levels.⁸⁵  The practice is alluded to by Porphyry of Tyre (ca.  – ) De Antro Nymph. .

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Held in dark, cave-like spaces, the cult of Mithras used a number of light effects to catalyse a visionary ritual experience and render the celebration of the god’s deeds enthralling.⁸⁶ Especially relevant for the present study are the ways in which the figure of the sun was lighted. By gilding the rays of his radiating crown or carving them out and placing a light behind them, the followers of Mithras in charge of the cultic setting assured the perception of the sun as a theophanic presence in the darkness of mithraea.⁸⁷ The nocturnal sun that Apuleius’ hero had seen and which, as we will see, was at the centre of the baptisand’s vision, was present in the cult of Mithras.⁸⁸ The case of Neoplatonism corroborates the importance of such ritual enactments in the period. The philosophical school, prone to a detachment from the world of the senses due to Plato’s (ca. 428 – 347 BCE) separation of body and soul, had drifted towards radical abstraction with the teachings of Plotinus (ca. 205 – 70).⁸⁹ The philosopher alienated the soul from matter by presenting it as eternally divine. Despite his efforts to include the body in the contemplative life, the theory of an undescended soul that lived in the world of the Forms led to the isolation of the sage from the surrounding world, a process noticeable in the writings of his student Porphyry of Tyre.⁹⁰ Iamblichus (ca. 245 – 325), a Syrian, reoriented the Neoplatonic school back towards the created world, by combining the doctrine of Plato with the optimism towards matter characteristic of Late Antiquity. Postulating the created universe as essentially theophanic by virtue of it being emanated by the One, he believed that certain elements had a privileged relation to the divine. Such συνθέματα or σύμβολα were sacred, deiform objects that revealed the ineffable.⁹¹ These symbols helped render one divine via rituals used to attract the presence of the gods and strengthen, through ascension and revelation, the relation between

 On light effects used to enhance the theophanic dimension of the cult, see Wortmann ; Lentz ; Guarducci ; MacMullen :  – ; Merkelbach , figs. , , , , , , .  The rays of Sol’s crown were often gilded in mithraea, as was the face of Mithras. Paired with a source of flickering light or with a sun-ray, the surfaces would have shone in the dark interiors. Gawlikowski et al.  have shown that in the Huarte Mithraeum a narrow channel was made to allow a sun-ray to fall on the th of December, the date of Mithras’ birth, on the main niche where the relief showing Mithras was placed.  Origen C. Cels.  tells that the advancement in the cult/cosmos was made through the passing of seven gates, such as those present in the Ostia mithraeum, made each of a different metal. The last two were of silver and gold.  On cosmic pessimism in Neoplatonism before Iamblichus, see Shaw : .  Plotinus Enn. ...  Iamblichus De Myst. . – .

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Fig. 6. Plaster cast of the altar showing Sol with carved-out rays found in the third-century Mithraeum in Brocolitia. After Merkelbach 1988: 334.

the believer and the gods.⁹² Combining philosophy and ritual practice, Iamblichus introduced theurgy (θεουργία: god-work) as a manner in which one could stimulate his or her divine nature. One theurgic method in particular interests us. Defined as φωταγωγία (guidance through light), the experience, we are

 Iamblichus De Myst. . – , . – .

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told, made use of walls, water, and light.⁹³ While the exact details remain uncertain, it seems that the name, symbol, or image of a god was depicted on a wall in a manner that interacted with light, thus making it appear prominent.⁹⁴ Bishop Hippolytus of Rome (170 – 235) described how such effects were created: For, making a closed chamber, and anointing the ceiling with cyanus [massive azurite] for present use, they introduce certain vessels of cyanus, and stretch them upwards. The cauldron, however, full of water, is placed in the middle on the ground; and the reflection of the cyanus falling upon it, presents the appearance of heaven. But the floor also has a certain concealed aperture, on which the cauldron is laid, having been previously supplied with a bottom of crystal, while itself is composed of stone. Underneath, however, unnoticed [by the spectators], is a compartment into which the accomplices, assembling, appear invested with the figures of such gods and demons as the magician wishes to exhibit. Now the dupe, beholding these, becomes astonished at the knavery of the magician, and subsequently believes all things that are likely to be stated by him.⁹⁵ And they make moon and stars appear on the ceiling after this manner. In the central part of the ceiling, having fastened a mirror, placing a dish full of water equally [with the mirror] in the central portion of the floor, and setting in a central place likewise a candle, emitting a faint light from a higher position than the dish, in this way, by reflection, [the magician] causes the moon to appear by the mirror.⁹⁶

Drawing on the commentary of Plato’s Timaeus made by Proclus (412– 85), a Neoplatonic philosopher who continued Iamblichus’ path, Gregory Shaw believes that the symbol depicted on the wall in theurgic φωταγωγία was most likely the letter chi (Χ).⁹⁷ The X had become a cosmic symbol in Late Antiquity and, when inscribed in a circle, a solar one. Indeed, Iamblichus often stressed that

 Iamblichus De Myst. . – ., . – .  Iamblichus De Myst. . – .  Hippolytus of Rome Ref. Haer. . (trans. ANF .). While in Egypt it had a millenary tradition, in the Graeco-Roman world, the staging of theophanic manifestations is attested as early as the fifth century BCE when, at Eleusis, the apparition of Demeter began to be orchestrated. On such phasmata in ancient mysteria, see the discussion in Bremmer : , with bibl. In Late Antiquity, the mushrooming of mystery cults prompted the development of such techniques, some of which were described by Hero of Alexandria (ca.  – ) Catoptrics ; Ptolemy of Alexandria (ca.  – ) Optics ; and Clement of Alexandria Protr. .  Hippolytus of Rome Ref. Haer. . (trans. ANF .). The assimilation of real light with divine manifestations was common in late Roman society. The popularity of lychnomancy and lecanomancy, as well as of other practices involving light shows that the lighting of cultic spaces was symbolically charged. On lychnomancy and lecanomancy, see Johnston . On the assimilation of the light used in various non-Christian Late Antique rituals with divine light, see Zografou .  Shaw : .

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solar συνθέματα were the most effective.⁹⁸ Shaw’s contention is sustained by the information found in a fourth-century text erroneously called the Mithras Liturgy. Identified by Sarah Iles Johnston as a theurgic ritual, the practice described in the text prompted the visionary ascension of the theurgist, who was taken through the cosmic structure. At the apex of the experience, a deity bearing similarities to the common depictions of Sol appeared. It was, we will see, precisely this kind of imagery that Christian baptisteries displayed, with the sun used to introduce the vision of Christ. The result of theurgic practice was the deification of the theurgist, who regained the perfect, sun-like body he or she had before his or her fall into matter.⁹⁹ The effects of the transformation extended into everyday life, as theurgists “took on the shape of the gods”, becoming themselves συνθέματα.¹⁰⁰ Making the divine appear in the world, the deified theurgist was an ambulant theophany, functioning as an animated cultic statue. Given this evolution towards a coherent ritual practice shared by all en vogue cults, Clement of Alexandria’s imagery can be seen as descriptive rather than metaphoric. The popularity and efficiency of such ritual mise-en-scènes is underscored by the adoption of the imagery by a radical sect such as Christianity. A few decades later than Clement was writing, the baptistery at Dura Europos showcased an architecture and decoration reflecting the symbolism behind the act, thus testifying to the adaptation of the setting to the ritual’s symbolic needs. The font was placed inside a sarcophagus-like niche in the wall. The extant parts of the mural decoration, rendered in fresco, showed a selection of scenes consistent with the act, such as Jesus and Peter walking on water, the healing of the paralytic, David defeating Goliath, the Good Shepherd, Adam and Eve in paradise, and, most importantly, the women coming to the tomb (shown as a sarcophagus with stars on it). Carrying candles, the women were a clear reference to the sacrament which, like their visit to the tomb, was made early in the morning while still dark and might have already involved lit torches. The canopy over the font was painted dark blue with white stars, indicating the cosmic dimension of the experience. It appears possible, especially in light of the subsequent evolution, that in the early third century some of the Christian communities around the Mediterranean came to rely on similar artifices in their rituals and that Clement’s language is grounded in

 Shaw :  – , .  Damascius (ca.  – ) Dub. et Sol. .. – .  On theurgy affecting the outlook of the body, see Iamblichus De Myst. . – ., . – . Shaw : , .

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ritual practice. This is indicated by the recurrence in baptismal texts of the imagery he uses. The identification of the baptisand with Christ in the work of Clement and of his pupil Origen (184 – 235) corroborates my contention that Christian baptism in Alexandria drew on other ritual practices.¹⁰¹ Identifying with the divinity as a result of initiation, a key element in contemporary cults, entered Christianity via Paul’s Gal. 3.27: “for as many as to Christ were baptized did put on Christ”.¹⁰² The Pauline concept was interpreted, as testified by Clement’s descriptions of baptism and its effects, in terms that drew on contemporary ritual experiences and it is right to expect that some groups gave a physical enactment to the motif, as they did with the Divine Light. Holding that the baptisand was moulded into the shape of Christ through the sacrament, Clement and Origen related baptism to the theology of the Divine Image.¹⁰³ Central in early Christianity, especially in Judeo-Christian communities, the idea that Adam had been created as a Doppelgänger of the luminous Logos and that Jesus’ coming was meant to offer humanity the possibility of regaining that iconic status was connected to baptism. Since Adam had been luminous before the Fall, regaining the Image and Likeness was also held to confer bodily luminosity.¹⁰⁴ The light present at the baptism of Jesus, which at this point was variously reproduced during the ritual, was reinterpreted in relation to this motif. The baptisand exiting the font was supposedly covered in the luminous Glory of God (the δόξα / ‫)ָּכבוֹד‬, and the candle and white clothes received from the clergy symbolised his return to the prelapsarian state.¹⁰⁵ By focusing the visionary dimension on the baptisand rather than the setting, the ritual conferred

 Origen calls the baptisands Christs in C. Cels. . and Hom. in Ezek. . cf. also Gregory of Nazianzus Or. . – , . and Methodius of Olympus Symp. .. – . The perfect Christian as another Christ is also found in the third-century Gospel of Philip . –   Translations of the Old and New Testament follow the Young Literal Translation from .  Tatian Orat. ad Graec. .; Clement of Alexandria Strom. ..; Origen Ad Mart. ... On the relation between baptism and the theology of the Image as developed by Origen, Evagrius Ponticus ( – ), and Gregory of Nyssa, see Ramelli : .  Playing on the similarity between ὁ φώς (man) and τό φῶς (light), Judeo-Christian groups envisioned Adam as a being of light moulded on the Image of God. The kabod-theology derived from Ezek. . where the prophet sees “the appearance of the likeness of the Glory of YHWH” as a luminous screen both concealing and manifesting God, which was subsequently associated with the Logos and other luminous apparitions. See DeConick and Fossum ; Fossum ; Aaron .  Apart from the Pythagoreans, who wore them on account of their renewed life, those initiated in some of the ancient mysteria also wore white clothes during and after the experience. See Jones ; Bremmer : . On Pythagoreans, see Tigchelaar .

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to the baptisand the iconic dimension of Adam, and of other Late Antique initiates.¹⁰⁶ It is in this conceptual context that one of the various artifices used by Christian communities to render the Divine Light visible prevailed over others. Previously mentioned in 2Enoch, a Judeo-Christian text dated to the second century BCE, anointing of the body as a garment of light appeared later in baptism, as indication of the metamorphosis of the baptisand: And the Lord said to Michael, “Take Enoch and take off his earthly garments, and anoint him with good oil, and clothe him in glorious garments.” And Michael took off from me my garments and anointed me with good oil. And the appearance of the oil was more resplendent than a great light, and its richness like sweet dew, and its fragrance like myrrh, shining like a ray of the sun. And I looked at myself, and I was like one of the glorious ones, and there was no apparent difference.¹⁰⁷

Described in 2Enoch as a result of the anointing, luminosity accrued in stages in apocalyptic texts of the period. Visionary ascensions described in texts of Christian, Judeo-Christian, and Gnostic communities discuss how, as one advanced through the levels of heaven, he was changed “from Glory to Glory”,¹⁰⁸ with his body reflecting the luminosity characterising each of the heavenly levels he reached. These communities of the first centuries CE thus promoted the same kind of successive transformation that we have seen in Mithraism. It was, I believe, a combination of factors that led to the shaping of baptism as a transformative, theophanic experience by fourth-century bishops, who designed a ritual experience that reflected contemporary cosmological and anthropological views. The perception of heaven and of the human being found in second- and third-century Christian and Christian-related texts, influenced by anthropological developments of the time, moulded the Christological discours-

 The garments/tunics of skin from Gen. . came to be identified in the apocalyptic-visionary tradition with the body, and the eventual luminous state with the receiving of garments of Glory/light cf. e. g. Rev. .. In Judeo-Christian literature and early Christian martyrical Acta, the righteous in heaven were often described as dressed in either white or luminous garments (cf. En. .; Test. Levi . – ; Pass. Perp. et Fel. .). The motif penetrated the baptismal tradition early; Turner  acknowledged it in Sethian and other Gnostic baptismal practices, and later it pervaded the baptismal texts of bishops. The motif was so widespread that Eusebius’ account of the baptism of Constantine is moulded on the tradition cf. Eusebius of Caesarea Vita Const. .. On the motif of the “garments”, see Smith ; Meeks ; Brock :  – .  En. . –  (trans. A. Pennington, from Himmelfarb : ). On the luminous garments in Rabbinic Judaism and Early Christianity and their relation to the oil, see Kim .  Paul Cor. ., fragment discussed in detail below in relation to the iconography in the Orthodox Baptistery.

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es of the fourth century. Combined, in the context of the adoption of the common visual rhetoric of sanctity facilitated by Constantine’s measures, with awe-inspiring spaces, this led to the creation of ritual experiences that reproduced what was commonly held to be a life-altering initiation. With the postulation of the baptisand as Christic, the anointing that rendered one’s body radiant as it interacted with the lights present during the ritual came to be the primary method of reproducing the light of God during baptism.¹⁰⁹ As the wet and anointed body reflected the flickering of the lights present in the baptistery at night, the baptisand exiting the font appeared as a luminous image of Christ.¹¹⁰ Catechumens, influenced by bishops who promised the same kind of experience offered by other cults, were taught to perceive the scene as a theophany of the Christian god. Since Late Antique persons did not differentiate well between reflected and emitted light, the bishops hoped that the glow would be perceived as a manifestation of the Divine Glory. In fact, the disappointment to which post-baptismal sermons seem to react indicates that the audience did buy the promise of genuine theophany but not always the mise-en-scène. The generalisation of nocturnal baptism and its setting on the vigil of Easter reinforced the theophanic dimension of the lights and the Christic character of the baptisand. Dying and resurrecting with Christ on Easter, a celebration related to the equinox when the day and night were equal as on the first day of creation, the baptisand adopted the position of a new Adam.¹¹¹ Rising from the font, the baptisand reproduced the image of the Logos after which the first human had been made. The radiant oil, recurrently associated in fourth-century sources with the receiving of the Holy Spirit, covered the baptisand in the image of God: a garment of light that signified the reversal of the Adamic fall.¹¹² The transformation is placed in Christian texts in the context of deification, and is associated with the putting on of Christ, becoming His brothers, and restoring the first image of Adam. The motifs are found in a coherent baptismal  The most complete identification of the chrism with the light in this period is found in the Gospel of Philip . – . According to Turner , “The Gospel of Philip understands the chrism as fire, in the sense of intense light which gives form and beauty.” See also the Tripartite Tractate . –  and the Syriac Acts of John .  See below on the positioning of lights in relation to fonts.  In the fourth century, the night of Easter became the preferred, although not exclusive, time for baptism cf. Cyril of Jerusalem Bapt. Cat. .; Ephrem the Syrian (ca.  – ) Hym. Virg. .; John Chrysostom Bapt. Instr. . – ; Augustine of Hippo ( – ) Serm. ..  Gregory of Nazianzus Or. .. In the Old Testament, chrismation was associated with the receiving of the Holy Spirit as prophets were anointed at the beginning of their mission cf. e. g. Lev. ..

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theology in Methodius of Olympus’ († ca. 311) writings. Through the sacrament, Methodius argues, one received Christ as garment and brother, the Spirit restoring the image Adam initially bore.¹¹³ Stamped on the soul with the likeness of the Word, neophytes received the manliness of Jesus and became Christs.¹¹⁴ At the end of the third century, stimulated by the use of the anointing oil that produced “Christs” (literally: anointed ones) who reflected the light of God, the baptisand’s body came to be indicated as the theophany’s locus.¹¹⁵ The baptisans’ bodies made the Divine Glory visually available. Christian baptism placed one in the position to fulfil the goal of Late Antique religiosity, and become a theophanic screen that mediated contact between humanity and the divine. Isolated Christian communities of the second and third centuries variously interpreted Jesus’ baptism in the Jordan. Combining, as in other cults, elements taken from traditional initiations with Late Antique anthropological and cosmological tenets, Christian bishops designed baptism to meet the needs and expectations of its audience. As we will now see, in the fourth century, baptism received a coherent concept and an enactment that stressed its visionary and transformative character. The effect the anointing had on one’s body stimulated the development of a complex mise-en-scène. The imagery we have seen developing in this section became generalised, as baptism was presented as the moment when one regained his or her iconic potential.

I.2 Christian Bishops on Reflecting the Image of God at Baptism The fourth-century reorganisation of the theology and setting of baptism can be attributed to a generation of bishops with a thorough classical education. Like Paulinus, bishops pertaining to the late Roman intelligentsia were aware of the power ritual stagings had, as well as of the rhetorical techniques needed to catalyse the effect of the performances. In the new concept of baptism, the ritual’s fundamentally mimetic dimension was maintained, but the model was

 Methodius of Olympus De Ress. ..  Methodius of Olympus Symp. ..  Pre-baptismal anointing of the whole body was not a general practice but almost all the information from the fourth and fifth century mentions some kind of pre-baptismal anointing (whether of the body, head, or unspecified). See Johnson , esp. tables on pp.  and .

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changed as the initiation reproduced more the death and resurrection of Jesus than His baptism.¹¹⁶ The idea was grounded in Paul’s Rom. 6.3 – 9: Are you ignorant that we, as many as were baptized to Christ Jesus, to his death were baptized? We were buried together, then, with him through the baptism to the death, that even as Christ was raised up out of the dead through the glory of the Father, so also we in newness of life might walk. For, if we have become planted together to the likeness of his death, [so] also we shall be of the rising again; this knowing, that our old man was crucified with [him], that the body of the sin may be made useless, for our no longer serving sin; for he who had died had been set free from sin. And if we died with Christ, we believe that we also shall live with him, knowing that Christ, having been raised up out of the dead, does no more die, death over him had no more lordship;

Since the change of accent from the baptism to the death of Jesus appeared first in Cyril of Jerusalem’s writings, it would seem that the bishop developed the new concept as he applied Paul’s baptismal theology to the architecture of the Anastasis, the Constantinian rotunda build over the tomb of Jesus, which the bishop of Jerusalem used in the baptismal process.¹¹⁷ Nevertheless, the new concept resulted organically as a combination of the technical and theoretical aspects discussed in the previous section. The great coherence noticeable towards the end of the fourth century, when many of the bishops used the same concept and practice, seemingly adopted from Cyril, is due, I believe, to the disappearance of martyrdom. The fourth century marked the beginning of a new social, political, and economic context for the Church, and the new situation stimulated the construction of complex ritual scenes. The possibility of designing and building structures as complex and lavishly decorated as those of other cults, the new proselytising dynamic of the Church, the ascension to the bishopric of a generation of men aware of the effect such settings had, and the development of Christian anthropology, led to the popularisation of the concept of baptism we have seen budding in the work of Clement, Origen, and Methodius. The recasting of the baptisand into the

 For the change of the sacrament’s fundament from mimetic to cathartic, see Winkler ; Saxer : .  On the Anastasis, see Eusebius of Caesarea Vita Const. .. Egeria, a pilgrim who visited Jerusalem and described Cyril’s baptismal practice, mentioned that he took the baptised to the Anastasis after they exited the font cf. Itin. Eger. .. In the following days, the bishop explained to the neophytes the symbolism of the sacrament in the Anastasis cf. Itin. Eger. ..

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shape of Christ received a more coherent conceptual fundament along with complex ritual settings based on the Anastasis.¹¹⁸ As underlined by Gordon P. Jeanes, during the fourth-century process of the reconceptualisation of baptism, a transfer of imagery between martyrdom and baptism took place.¹¹⁹ Derived from Lk. 12.50, where Jesus referred to His death as a baptism, the relationship between baptism and martyrdom was intrinsic. In the early centuries CE, the two stood as different stages of the same process, with martyrdom being the conclusion of a religious cursus honorum that began with baptism.¹²⁰ Martyrdom conferred a visionary capacity to confessors—Christians arrested and awaiting execution—who, by virtue of their imminent death, gained access to divine wisdom.¹²¹ Furthermore, their bodies became theophanic screens on which their cohabitation with Christ manifested as an abnormal resistance to pain or as divine luminosity.¹²² The phenomenon had a particular capacity to unify Christian communities.¹²³ Promoted as an arcane type of knowledge, the interpretation of the martyr’s behaviour in a Christian key united Christians with catechumens in the audience of Roman amphitheaters.¹²⁴ After 313 CE, the concept of martyrdom underwent a process of liberalisation,¹²⁵ with bishops

 The source of inspiration for the architecture of baptism is debated, with scholars oscillating between the architecture of Roman baths and mausolea. The main theses are synthesised in Jensen b:  – .  Jeanes . See Cyril of Jerusalem Myst. Cat. . on baptism as simulated martyrdom.  Wharton’s :  objection to the assimilation of the two in early Christianity does not stand because Cyprian of Carthage’s (ca.  – ) discourse, on which she draws, regards the phenomenon of the confessors. Early sources are consistent in recognising martyrdom as baptism, see Ivanovici a: n. . The privileged relation between the two is attested by the practice of baptism at the martyrs’ tombs, by the interchangeability between martyria and baptisteries, and by baptisteries being preferred places of interment in the period. See Jensen b:  – .  See, e.g. the epistles of Ignatius of Antioch (ca.  – ) where the bishop explicitly states this.  In early Acta, light theophanies are mentioned in relation to martyrs in Mart. Poly. .. – ; Pass. Perp. et Fel. .. – ; Mart. Pion. ..; Mart. Lugdun.  –  and as related directly with the martyr’s body in Mart. Pion. .. – ; Acta Pauli et Theclae .; Mart. Mar. et Jam. .. – ; Mart. Mont. et Luc. . – .  E. g. Acts . and ..  As Young  argued, martyrdom united catechumens and believers in a type of liturgy in which the former could partake. In Ivanovici a, I argued that the proselytising effect recurrently attributed to martyrdom in the early centuries referred to its impact on catechumens.  Testini [] : : “Alla fine delle persecuzioni, il termine martire subisce un’ulteriore evoluzione. Nella vita quotidiana, la povertà volontaria, la sopportazione dei mali, il sacrificio a pro’ dei fratelli, la mortificazione del corpo, uniti alla preghiera per un’incessante glori-

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transferring the Christic and theophanic dimension to baptism in order to preserve them. Just like martyrdom, the initiation united the community and the catechumens in a performance that was promoted as a cosmic clash between good and evil. The Christic character of the martyr, derived from his or her perfect imitation of Christ, was inherited by the baptisand, along with the representational dimension of the stance.¹²⁶ The assimilation of catechumens into the cult continued to be marked by their witnessing of a person’s iconic embodying of Christ. The martyrical dimension strengthened the initiation’s sepulchral aspect, thus allowing for the mausoleum-like structure Constantine had built over the tomb of Jesus to influence the setting of baptism everywhere.¹²⁷ Indeed, it appears that the Anastasis rotunda played a central role in the process through which baptism came to be promoted as a ritual death. The centralised space, with its natural vertical momentum, provided the perfect setting for the type of visionary ascension that baptism claimed to offer. Furthermore, the setting placed the font in the position of Jesus’ tomb, thus stressing the Christic character of the baptisand in concordance with Paul’s teaching. The importation of vocabulary and motifs that previously pertained to martyrdom added to the initiation’s representational dimension. The relevance of the anointing act grew as it sent to both gladiatorial imagery—baptisands being anointed as athletes of Christ—and the receiving of the Holy Spirit.¹²⁸ Attaining while alive an ontological status that was previously reserved for the moment of death, the neophytes were presented as intermediaries between heaven and earth, and the baptistery as a place of transformation where time was suspended and the two dimensions met.¹²⁹ The “paradoxical fusion”¹³⁰ that took place bor-

ficazione del Signore, possono costituire virtù eroiche che in molti casi suppliscono il martirio.” See Jeanes ; Jensen b:  – .  Martyrdom was seen as an essentially mimetic endeavour, consecrating one’s Christic life through a Christic death and conferring a Christic status cf. Rev. .. On the martyr as alter Christus, see Moss . In virtue of Mt. . – , the confessor/martyr was considered a locus of the Divine Presence.  The sepulchral dimension of baptism was already present in the third century, as testified by the sarcophagus-like font in Dura Europos. Like the bier in the second-century relief from Amiternum, the ceiling over the font had stars on it, which indicated the hope in one’s ascension after death. In the case of the Baptistery the death was, as in other initiatory rituals, mimicked.  For the motif’s connotations, see Baudry [] :  – .  Indicating the baptistery as heaven or a place where human and angelic/divine beings mingled are the Testament of the Lord .; Gregory of Nyssa De Bapt. PG .C and De Vita Moysis .. – ; Cyril of Jerusalem Procat.  – , Bapt. Cat. ., ., Myst. Cat. .; John Chrysostom Bapt. Instr. .; Ambrose of Milan De Sacr. .. – , De Myst. ..; Chromatius of Aquilea Serm. .; Zeno of Verona (ca.  – ) Tract. .; Gregory of Nazianzus Or. .. On the

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dered on deification, as sinners became adopted sons of God, Christs.¹³¹ In the context of the Christological debates of the fourth century, baptism came to be credited with the change of the catechumen’s ontological foundation from Adam to Christ, change which catalysed the development of a complex imagery that postulated the baptisand as a Christic figure, the baptistery as Eden, and enabled the sight of God’s luminous Glory. The space inside the baptistery was presented as sacred, Cyril of Jerusalem and Ambrose of Milan likening it to the Jerusalemite Holy of Holies.¹³² As underlined by Geir Hellemo, in the new type of setting “The rite itself, by means of its visual character, creates the basis for the eyes’ contemplation which opens the way for an interpretative image of the events reproduced by the ritual. The rite provides the external condition for outer as well as inner visual processes in those participating in it.”¹³³ The ritual provided a momentary vision and a lifelong memory of it: Considera, quos uideris, quid locutus sis, considera, repete diligenter! ¹³⁴

The imagery and underlying concept were surprisingly coherent between Cyril of Jerusalem’s time and the middle of the fifth century, when Bishop Neon of Ravenna (sed. ca. 450 – 73) restored the Orthodox Baptistery. The anthropological ideal of the time, the iconic living person, was at the centre of the initiation process, the latter referencing the motifs so far discussed, in the context provided by the moulding of baptism on Adamic Christology. Repeatedly referring in their pre-baptismal sermons to motifs that characterised the ritual experiences offered by other cults, bishops led their audience to expect a similar setting. The understanding of such allusions and of Old Testament theophanies as indicative of the upcoming experience generated a certain tension, with catechumens approaching baptism as a direct encounter with the Christian God that would change their existence. This emotion was consciously

ritual as capable of collapsing space (Jordan-baptistery, heaven-earth), time (Jesus’ baptism-subsequent baptisms), and ontological categories (sinner-Son/Image of God/Christ), see Miles : ; Wharton : ; Brock : ,  – ; Ferguson : .  Gregory of Nazianzus Or. . (trans. Elm ).  Origen C. Cels. .; Methodius of Olympus Symp. .. – ; Chromatius of Aquilea Serm. ., Tract. in Math. ...  Ambrose of Milan De Sacr. .., De Myst. .; Cyril of Jerusalem Myst. Cat. ..  Hellemo : .  Ambrose of Milan De Sacr. .. (ed. Banterle : , trans. Thompson : ) “Consider what you have seen, consider what you have said, remind it carefully!”

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used by bishops in the catechetical process, with curiosity being used to attract people to the faith and fear to render the experience awe-inspiring.¹³⁵ By promising at the beginning of Lent that upon baptism catechumens would be admitted into heaven, where a royal garment and a radiant crown that shone stronger than the sun would be given to them, bishops led them to expect exactly the type of experience Apuleius’ hero had undergone.¹³⁶ Otherwise notoriously unavailable, the sight of God appears as a standard promise in pre-baptismal lectures. Bishops thus adopted a completely different stance when addressing an audience with minimum knowledge of Christianity.¹³⁷ Old Testament fragments in which the ideal human appeared as a sort of animated cultic image were capitalised in the context of the Christological debates and, under the influence of the new, Late Antique anthropological context, were applied to the baptisand. Holding that God “established humankind to serve as the image for his household, so that all creation would by their care and veneration towards humans render the honor due to God”,¹³⁸ bishops indicated baptism as the moment when the fallen human being regained its position at the centre of creation: ἵνα σε ποιήσῃ πάλιν εἰκόνα Θεοῦ, καὶ αὐτὸς ὑπὸ φιλανθρωπίας ἐγένετο εἰκὼν τοῦ Θεοῦ τοῦ ἀοράτου· ὥστε τῇ ἰδίᾳ μορφῇ, ἣν ἀνέλαϐεν, ἐν σοὶ μορφωθῆναι, καὶ σὲ πάλιν δι’ ἑαυτοῦ πρὸς τὸν χαρακτῆρα τοῦ ἀρχετύπου συσχηματισθῆναι κάλλους, εἰς τὸ γενέσθαι, ὅπερ ἧς

 As early as Theophilus of Antioch’s (sed. ca.  – ) Ad Autolycus  –  Christians came to be canvassed by non-Christians on the appearance of God due to their self-presentation as those who see God. In the fourth century, due to the disciplina arcani, curiosity seems to have grown and bishops appeared not only aware of it but also to use it to attract people to baptism cf. Cyril of Jerusalem Procat. ..; Ambrose of Milan De Myst. .; Augustine In Joh. .; Zeno of Verona Tract.  ... On the role of secrecy in ancient mysteria, see Strabo ( BCE- CE) Geogr. ...  John Chrysostom Bapt. Instr. ., quoted below, cf. Apuleius Met. ., discussed above.  Ambrose of Milan De Myst. ; Zeno of Verona Tract.  ; Theodore of Mopsuestia (ca.  – ) Hom. .; etc.  Theodore of Mopsuestia Frag. Syriaca  (trans. McLeod : ). McLeod :  identified the role of the human being in the writings of Theodore as “revelatory, cultic and binding.” Recent scholarship has proposed that the Jewish concept of man as the image of God on earth carried in Judaism all the participatory connotations enjoyed by religious images in ancient Near-Eastern cultures. Schüle :  synthesised the relation between the deity and its statue/human servant by arguing that “The cultic image is in fact the medium of manifest divine presence and action in the world and as such part of the divine person. It is, to put it pointedly, ‘god on earth’ […] It is not for ‘pragmatic’ reasons that humans are created, they assume divine dignity in that they represent God in the created world as the cultic image would do.”

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ἐξ ἀρχῆς. Οὐκοῦν εἰ μέλλοιμεν γίνεσθαι καὶ ἡμεῖς εἰκὼν τοῦ Θεοῦ τοῦ ἀοράτου, πρὸς τὸ ἐκκείμενον ἡμῖν τοῦ βίου ὑπόδειγμα τυποῦσθαι ζωῆς προσήκει τῆς ἡμῶν τὸ εἰδος·¹³⁹

Exploiting the symbolism of the common intercessional paradigm of the cultic statue, bishops presented themselves as sculptors who moulded catechumens into the image of Christ through baptism: Credendo enim quasi de siluis et montibus ligna et lapides præeciduntur: cum uero catechizantur, baptizantur, formantur, tanquam inter manus fabrorum et opificum dolantur, collineantur, complanantur. ¹⁴⁰

Like the initial breath of life, baptism animated the statue-like human being, transforming it into a living icon, as Adam had been.¹⁴¹ Recurrent in writings related to baptism, the baptisand as living image provided a common element with non-Christians since, as attested by the cult of Isis, the initiate as living statue was a popular paradigm that reflected the Late Antique optimism regarding the iconic potential of the body.¹⁴² Like the initiations of other cults, baptism transformed one into the living image of his or her God.

 Gregory of Nyssa De Perf. Chr. Forma (ed. PG .D, trans. Ramelli : ) “in order to make you again an image of God, [Jesus] made himself, too, an image of the invisible God out of love for humankind […] so that you, through him, could again be conformed to the image of the archetypal Beauty, and could become again what you were at the beginning.” On baptism as remodelling one in the form of Christ or conferring the Divine Image, see Gregory of Nazianzus Or. , esp. chap. ,  and . According to McLeod : , Theodore of Mopsuestia held that if the baptised maintained purity, they had the “form” and “similitude” of the risen Christ. In the fifth century, Proclus of Constantinople (sed.  – ) Hom. . (trans. Constas : ) addressed the neophytes: “you have put on the king himself, all who have been baptised in Christ have been clothed in Christ.”  Augustine Serm. . (ed. PL .D-A, trans. Repsher : ) “the believer is like wood and stones cut from forests and mountains; truly they [Christians] are being catechized, baptized and formed just like they [wood and stones] are hewn, straightened and levelled in the hands of craftsmen and artisans.”  See Steenburg . On Adam, Zeno of Verona Tract.  .. (ed. and trans. Banterle :  – ) said: “Construitur mobile totumque se nesciens simulacrum et, ut imago sit dei, inspiratur a deo in animam uiuentem.” / “Viene fabbricata una statua mobile e completamente ignota di sé, e, perché sia immagine di Dio, da Lui le viene data la vita mediante l’infusione di un’anima vivente.” Seppälä :  referred to a fifth-century Syriac commentary on baptism that mentioned incensing before the baptisand as a final stage in the baptismal ritual, stressing his or her becoming an image/statue of God.  Concurrently, the Neoplatonic practice of animating statues through ritual manifests another expression of the general material turn.

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The baptisand who maintained the Image and Likeness undefiled displayed himself or herself to the community as a theophanic spectacle. The process is most evident in the case of Gregory of Nazianzus’ father. As bishop of the Cappadocian town, he was said to have made himself an iconic presence to his flock, καὶ τῷ προθεῖναι τύπον ἑαυτὸν, ὥσπερ ἀνδριάντα πνευματικὸν, εἰς κάλλος ἀπεξεσμένον πάσης ἀρίστης πράξεως.¹⁴³ The iconicity of the bishop had been gained in baptism when: Μικρὸν τὸ ἐν μέσῳ, καὶ τῷ θαύματι θαῦμα συνάπτεται· παραθήσομαι δὲ πιστῶν ἀκοαῖς τὸν λόγον· ψυχαῖς γὰρ βεϐήλοις οὐδὲν τῶν καλῶν ἀξιόπιστον. Πρόσεισι μὲν τῇ δι᾿ ὕδατος ἀναγεννήσει καὶ Πνεύματος, δι᾿ ἧς ὁμολογοῦμεν Θεῷ τὴν τοῦ κατὰ Χριστὸν ἀνθρώπου μόρφωσίν τε καὶ τελείωσιν, καὶ τοῦ χοικοῦ πρὸς τὸ πνεῦμα μετάθεσιν καὶ ἀνάπλασιν· καὶ πρόσεισι μετὰ θερμῆς τῆς ἐπιθυμίας, καὶ λαμπρᾶς τῆς ἐλπίδος, τῷ λουτρῷ προκαθήρας ἑαυτὸν εἰς δύναμιν, καὶ ψυχῇ καὶ σώματι καθαγνίσας πολλῷ μᾶλλον, ἢ οἱ τὰς πλάκας παρὰ Μωϋσέως δέξασθαι μέλλοντες. Τοῖς μὲν γὰρ μέχρις ἐσθῆτος ὁ ἁγνισμὸς, καὶ γαστρὸς μικρὰ στένωσις, καὶ σωφροσύνη τις σχέδιος· τῷ δὲ πᾶς ὁ ἐν μέσῳ βίος παρασκευὴ τῆς ἐλλάμψεως ἦν, καὶ πρὸ τῆς καθάρσεως κάθαρσις ἀσφαλιζομένη τὴν δωρεὰν, ἵνα ἡ τελειότης τῇ καθαρότητι πιστευθῇ, καὶ μὴ κινδυνεύσῃ τὸ ἀγαθὸν ἐν ἕξει τολμώσῃ μετὰ τῆς χάριτος. Ἐξελθόντα δὲ αὐτὸν ἐκ τοῦ ὕδατος, φῶς περιαστράπτει καὶ δόξα τῆς διαθέσεως ἀξία, μεθ᾿ ἧς προσῆλθε τῷ χαρίσματι τῆς πίστεως· ἔστι μὲν οἷς καὶ τῶν ἄλλων ἐπίδηλος, οἳ τότε μὲν σιωπῇ τὸ θαῦμα κατέσχον, ἐξειπεῖν οὐ θαῤῥήσαντες (καὶ γὰρ αὐτοῦ μόνου ταύτην εἶναι τὴν ὄψιν ἕκαστος ᾤετο), μικρὸν δὲ ὕστερον ἀλλήλοις διέδωκαν· τῷ δὲ βαπτιστῇ καὶ τελειωτῇ τοσοῦτον ἐναργής τε καὶ γνώριμος, ὥστε μηδὲ κατασχεῖν δυνηθῆναι τὸ μυστήριον, ἀλλὰ καὶ δημοσίᾳ ῥῆξαι φωνὴν, ὅτι τὸν ἑαυτοῦ διάδοχον τῷ πνεύματι χρίσειεν.¹⁴⁴

 Gregory of Nazianzus Or. . (ed. PG .C, trans. NPNF .) “by setting himself before them as an example, like a spiritual statue, polished into the beauty of all excellent conduct.”  Gregory of Nazianzus Or. . (ed. PG .C-A, trans. NPNF . – ) “After a short interval, wonder succeeded wonder. I will commend the account of it to the ears of the faithful, for to profane minds nothing that is good is trustworthy. He was approaching that regeneration by water and the Spirit, by which we confess to God the formation and completion of the Christlike man, and the transformation and reformation from the earthy to the Spirit. He was approaching the laver with warm desire and bright hope, after all the purgation possible, and a far greater purification of soul and body than that of the men who were to receive the tables from Moses. Their purification extended only to their dress, and a slight restriction of the belly, and a temporary continence. The whole of his past life had been a preparation for the enlightenment, and a preliminary purification making sure the gift, in order that perfection might be entrusted to purity, and that the blessing might incur no risk in a soul which was confident in its possession of the grace. And as he was ascending out of the water, there flashed around him a light and a glory worthy of the disposition with which he approached the gift of faith; this was manifest even to some others, who for the time concealed the wonder, from fear of speaking of a sight which each one thought had been only his own, but shortly afterwards communicated it to one another. To the baptiser and initiator, however, it was so clear and visible, that he could not

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The luminous aura surrounding the baptisand, which represented his or her regained iconicity and return to the Adamic condition as Image of God, was not left to chance, but constructed. A careful reading of the texts of bishops making use of the imagery, together with an analysis of the material context of the experience indicate the artifices used to create the effect. Let us now turn to Patristic texts, in search of clues that reveal both the nature of the staging and its implications in Late Antique culture.

I.2.1 Reproducing the Divine Light Drawing on the transformative capacity of sight, which in the period was held to produce a conformation of the onlooker to the object of sight, fourth-century baptism presented the catechumen with the image of God, depicted on a wall or embodied by a bishop.¹⁴⁵ Exiting the font cleansed of the Adamic sin, the neophyte saw and had the image of God inscribed on his of her body, with the radiance of the chrism symbolising the process of conformation. Baptism was a twostep transformation, first annulling through washing the elements that prevented one from seeing the divine, and later presenting him or her with the Image and transforming him/her accordingly. It is for this reason that the iconography of the three baptisteries whose decoration survived is essentially visionary. Placed under the image, the person in the font mirrored the depiction of Jesus or His symbol depicted on the cupola above, the spatial relation helping assimilate the onlooker with the object of sight.¹⁴⁶ Keeping with Late Antique sight theories, the act of seeing God was described as a “sealing” or “inscribing” of His

even hold back the mystery, but publicly cried out that he was anointing with the Spirit his own successor.”  The process was studied in detail by Heath  in a book that focused on the Pauline postulation of the holy person as an image with conformative power. On the tactile and conformative qualities of sight in the ancient world, see Nelson ; Frank b: ; Hahn , with bibl. The equation during the baptismal rite of the clergy with members of the Trinity or angelic beings, and especially of the bishop with God the Father appears clearly in Ambrose of Milan De Sacr. .. – , .., .. – , De Myst. ..; Theodore of Mopsuestia Cat. Hom. .; Ephrem the Syrian Hym. Epiph. .. On the exemplary role of images in the baptistery, see e. g. Paulinus of Nola Ep. .  The Orthodox and Arian Baptisteries in Ravenna, one decorated in the fifth and one at the beginning of the sixth century still have the original cupola decoration in place. The Arian reflects, nevertheless, a different theological, and possibly ritual, tradition and is excluded from our analysis. The decoration in the fifth-century Baptistery in Naples is used as the basis of comparison for the Orthodox Baptistery.

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image on the onlooker’s body, which now reproduced it through the luminosity of the chrism. Designated φωτιστήριον on account of the splendour of its illumination and light reflecting decoration, the baptistery showed the image of God surrounded by Divine Light.¹⁴⁷ The inside of baptisteries was bathed in an otherworldly light that reproduced the atmosphere of heaven. Like John’s transparent stones of heavenly Jerusalem described in his Revelation, the golden mosaic used in Late Antique baptisteries absorbed and recast the light coming from the body of Christ (depicted at the centre of the cupola, represented by His solar symbol, or embodied by the shining baptisand). As Gregory of Nyssa put it, and Ps.-Dionysius the Areopagite confirmed, bishops knew that the common believer could not imagine God without visual prompts, that he or she lacks the ability to envision a Divine Glory (lux) in the absence of material light (lumen).¹⁴⁸ The illumination focused on the image of God and its embodiment, the baptisand. The chrism rendered one similar to a golden cultic statue, and bishops argued that neophytes were melted and reshaped in the font as in a furnace: Ὥσπερ οὖν ανδριάντα χρυσοῦν πολλῷ τῷ χρόνῳ καὶ τῷ καπνῷ καὶ τῇ κόνει καὶ ἰῷ ῥυπωθέντα λαβών τις καὶ χωνεύσας, καθαρώτατον ἡμῖν καὶ ἀστράπτοντα ἀποδίδωσιν, οὕτω καὶ τὴν φύσιν τὴν ἡμετέραν ὁ Θεὸς ἰωθεῖσαν τῷ τῆς ἁμαρτίας ἰῷ, καὶ πολὺν δεξαμένην τὸν καπνὸν τὸν ἀπὸ τῶν πλημμελημάτων, καὶ τὸ κάλλος ἀπολέσασαν, ὅπερ παρ’ αὐτοῦ παρὰ τὴν ἀρχὴν ἐγκατέθηκε, λαβὼν ἄνωθεν ἐχώνευσε, καὶ καθάπερ εἰς χωνευτήριον ἐμβαλὼν τὰ ὕδατα, καὶ τὴν τοῦ Πνεύματος ἐπαφεὶς χάριν ἀντὶ φλογὸς, εἶτα νεοπαγεῖς ἐκεῖθεν καὶ καινοὺς γενομένους ἀντιβλέψαι λοιπὸν ταῖς ἡλιακαῖς ἀκτῖσι μετὰ πολλῆς ἀνάγει τῆς λαμπρότητος, τὸν μὲν παλαιὸν συντρίψας ἄνθρωπον, νέον δὲ κατασκευάσας τοῦ προτέρου λαμπρότερον.¹⁴⁹

 John Chrysostom Sermo post reditum a priore exsilio ; Socrates Scholasticus (ca.  – ) Hist. Eccl. .; Gregory of Nazianzus Or. .; Ephrem the Syrian Hym. Epiph. ..  Gregory of Nyssa Contra Eunomium GNO II . –  and Dionysius Cael. Hier. .. See also Augustine Enarr. in Ps. .; Paulinus of Nola Carm. .. See McLeod : .  John Chrysostom Bapt. Instr. . (ed. PG .C, trans. Harkins :  – ) “When a man takes and melts down a gold statue which has become filthy with the filth of years and smoke and dirt and rust, he returns it to us all-clean and shining. So, too, God takes this nature of ours when it is rusted with the rust of sin, when our faults have covered it with abundant soot, and when it had destroyed the beauty He put into it in the beginning, and He smelts it anew. He plunges it into the waters as into the smelting furnace and lets the grace of the Spirit fall on it instead of the flames. Then He brings us forth from the furnace, renewed like newly-molded vessels, to rival the rays of the sun with our brightness. He has broken the old man to pieces but has produced a new man who shines brighter than the old.” Cyril of Jerusalem Procat. , Bapt. Cat. ., ., .; John Chrysostom In Epist. ad Coloss. .; Serapion of Thmuis Prayers . Gregory of Nazianzus Or. . spoke of baptism as remodelling man as the Image of God (.), with the conformation enacted through the anointing oil (.).

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The transformation invoked a number of images, that is, the putting on of the shape of Christ,¹⁵⁰ regaining of the shining garment,¹⁵¹ becoming like God,¹⁵² or becoming sons and co-heirs with Christ.¹⁵³ Shining “in the likeness of angels”, the oil functioned as a robe enacted by the lights.¹⁵⁴ According to Ephrem the Syrian, it was the oil that bore and rendered the conformation to Christ visible. The poet confessed that whenever he looked at the oil, he saw “the anointed one [Christ]” looking back at him.¹⁵⁵ Fulfilling the ideal of Judeo-Christian groups that held Adam to have been iconic, and mirroring the status of Lucius and other Late Antique initiates, the neophytes could boldly declare: Εἰκών εἰμι καὶ αὐτὸς Θεοῦ· τῆς ἄνω δόξης οὔπω δι᾿ ἔπαρσιν, ὥσπερ σὺ, καταβέβλημαι· Χριστὸν ἐνδέδυμαι· Χριστὸν μεταπεποίημαι τῷ βαπτίσματι· σύ με προσκύνησον.¹⁵⁶

The shocking affirmation synthesises the essential shaping of Late Antique baptismal theory by the belief in the iconic potential of the human being. Providing a common point with other cults whose initiations also rendered one iconic, the theology of the Image was given in baptism a material, ritual expression. The solar dimension which, we will see, dominates the decoration of fifth-century baptisteries, was part of the imagery used by other cults, while the initiate as living statue was the anthropological paradigm towards which the whole of Late Antique culture strove. We will see exactly how the physical setting complemented the discourse by analysing the Orthodox Baptistery in Ravenna. The latter re-

 Basil of Caesarea On Bapt. .; Gregory of Nyssa Serm. ; John Chrysostom Bapt. Instr. ., ., .; Gregory of Nazianzus Or. .. The idea pervades the works of Ephrem the Syrian cf. Brock : passim, esp. .  Basil of Caesarea Exh. .  Baptism was one of the most important contexts for discussing theosis cf. Basil of Caesarea On Bapt. .; Gregory of Nyssa Serm. ; Gregory of Nazianzus Or. .; etc.  Chromatius of Aquilea Tract. in Math. ...  Ephrem Hym. Epiph. .; Augustine Serm. ; John Chrysostom Bapt. Instr. ..  Ephrem the Syrian Hym. Virg. . –  (trans. Brock :  – ). Augustine often used the image of the coin marked with the image of the Emperor as indicative of the effect chrism had on the body of the baptisand, the result being “another Christ”. As concluded by Saxer :  for Augustine “il [the baptisand] se sera totalment identifié au Christ, comme lui il sera lumière.” Ephrem the Syrian Hym. Virg. .. and . claimed that like the colours making up a royal portrait, the oil renders visible the portrait of the King “on those who have been signed.”  Gregory of Nazianzus Or. . (ed. PG .A, trans. NPNF .) “Say to him [the Devil] relying on the Seal [baptism or chrismation], ‘I am myself the Image of God; I have not yet been cast down from the heavenly Glory, as thou wast through thy pride; I have put on Christ; I have been transformed into Christ by Baptism; worship thou me.’”

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flects, I argue, the baptismal theology of Ambrose of Milan, filtered through the thought of Peter Chrysologus of Ravenna.

I.2.2 The Ambrosian Tradition Prompted, according to bishops, by the need of the uneducated to perceive the divine sensuously, the revelatory type of baptism was promoted in the western provinces of the Roman Empire by Ambrose of Milan. It is uncertain whether the bishop of Milan adopted the imagery introduced by Cyril of Jerusalem or if he developed Paul’s imagery in the same direction under the influence of the local baptistery.¹⁵⁷ As argued by Dale Kinney, the baptistery in Milan that reproduced the plan of late Roman mausolea, might have preceded the bishop.¹⁵⁸ What is certain is that the bishop of Milan promoted the sacrament as a ritual death and resurrection, and that he relied on the material setting of the act to support its theology. Ambrose seems to have paid close attention to the coordination between teaching and enactment, his confession that he does not want to give information beforehand “deinde quod inopinantibus melius se ipsa lux mysteriorum infuderit”, and the introduction of the apertio/ephphatha testifying to his awareness of the cognitive processes at work in the catechetical process.¹⁵⁹ The ritual “opening” of the catechumens’ eyes, mouth, nose, and ears by the bishop was intended to assure the capacity of the senses to perceive the divine realities present in the baptistery. Theologically influencing not only northern Italy, but also southern Gaul and, through Augustine whom he catechised and baptised, northern Africa, Ambrose’s opinions and the situation in Milan were decisive in the shaping of baptism in the West. Since fifth-century Ravenna followed his baptismal theory to the letter, as testified by elements present in Chrysologus’ sermons and the Orthodox Baptistery’s iconography, understanding Ambrose’s baptismal theology is fundamental. Ambrose’s catechetical writings differ from those we have drawn on so far. Since his pre-baptismal sermons did not survive, we must rely on his De Mysteriis and De Sacramentis, two collections of post-baptismal sermons, which, as usual in this kind of baptismal sermons, diminished the miraculous dimension of bap-

 Cyril used the ritual opening of the senses that was introduced in the West by Ambrose, cf. Cyril of Jerusalem Bapt. Instr. . and Ambrose of Milan De Sacr. .. – , De Myst. . – .  Kinney :  – .  Ambrose of Milan De Myst. .. (ed. and trans. Banterle :  – ) “la luce dei misteri suole penetrare in chi non se l’aspetta meglio che se qualche spiegazione li avesse preceduti.” On the apertio, see above.

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tism. Acting to restrain the disappointment of those who had taken the promises of theophany and transformation literally, the bishop identified in these two texts the divine realities with elements of the mise-en-scène or stressed the spiritual nature of the visions.¹⁶⁰ We thus find the Divine Light equated with that present in the baptistery, the bishop assimilated to God the Father, and the clergy members equated with various angelic orders.¹⁶¹ The apologetic character of the two texts seems to have escaped the attention of scholars. Indeed, the bishop of Milan made an effort to restrain the disappointment caused by a ritual previously presented as conveying the direct sight of God: Ingressus es, uidisti aquam, uidisti sacerdotem, uidisti leuitam. Ne forte aliquis dixerit: Hoc est totum? Immo hoc est totum, uere totum ubi tota innocentia, ubi tota pietas, tota gratia, tota sanctificatio. Vidisti quae uidere potuisti oculis tui corporis et humanis conspectibus, non uidisti illa, quae operantur, sed quae uidentur. Illa multo maiora sunt, quae non uidentur ‘quam uidentur, temporalia sunt, quae autem non uidentur, aeterna’ (2Cor. 4.18).¹⁶²

The dynamic discernible in the two works, also present in the Greek bishops from whom both pre- and post-baptismal catecheses survive, is characterised by the promise of theophanies before the ritual, and the equation of divine realities with elements of the setting after it. If read in this key, the two works indicate that Ambrose promised not only the sight of God and heavenly beings, but also a transformative experience enacted by the sight. Indeed, a developed baptismal theology of the Image is discernible in the De Sacramentis, with fragments stressing that the ritual is only indicative of divine realities appearing as interpolations in an otherwise straightforward presentation of the baptisand as recovering and actuating the Image of God in baptism:

 I argue that some of the statements he makes in the two works should be read as counterparts of more enthusiastic ones made previously cf. De Sacr. . – . See also De Myst. .., .., .., .., Exp. Symb. .  See Ambrose of Milan De Sacr. .. – , .., .. – , De Myst. ...  Ambrose of Milan De Sacr. .. (ed. Banterle : , trans. Yarnold [] : ) “You came into the baptistery, you saw the water, you saw the bishop, you saw the levite. And if anyone perhaps be thinking of saying: ‘Is that all?’ I say, ‘Indeed, it is all.’ There truly is all, where there is all innocence, all devotion, all grace, all sanctification. You saw all you could see with the eyes of the body, all that is open to human sight. You saw what is seen but not what is done. What is unseen is much greater than what is seen.” This apologetic dynamic is also visible in De Sacr. .. – , .., .. – , .. –, De Myst. .– , . and esp. ..

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Ergo unxit te deus, signauit te Christus. Quomodo? Quia ad crucis ipsius signatus es formam, ad illius passionem. Accepisti signaculum ad illius similitudinem, ut ad ipsius formam resurgas ad ipsius uiuas figuram, qui peccato crucifixus est, sed deo uiuit. ¹⁶³

In Milan, as elsewhere, the anointing conferred the Image and Likeness that had been lost with Adam.¹⁶⁴ The same was the case in fifth-century Ravenna, with Peter Chrysologus’ sermons and Neon’s iconography testifying to the continuity of the themes we have addressed. As indicated by his use of the apertio/ephphatha and his insistence on the oral character of the Creed, Chrysologus adopted the practice promoted by Ambrose.¹⁶⁵ Furthermore, the presence in the Orthodox Baptistery of an inscription paraphrasing Jn. 13.4– 5, a fragment mentioning the washing of the apostles’ feet by Jesus, indicates that in Ravenna the pedilavium, an element that differentiated the Ambrosian from the Roman rite, might have been practiced.¹⁶⁶

I.2.3 Peter Chrysologus and Baptism in Fifth-Century Ravenna Some 180 sermons by Ravenna’s most prominent theologian survive. The texts provide a connection between the baptismal theory we have seen developing and the Orthodox Baptistery. Bishop Neon (sed. ca. 450 – 75) restored the structure a few years after he succeeded Chrysologus (sed. ca. 433– 50). Its iconography reflects the ritual imagery present in the sermons, which was Chrysologus’ personal interpretation of that developed by bishops in the previous centuries. As testified by a text Neon inscribed in the episcopium, he had adopted Chrysologus’ postulation of the perfect human being as an image of God and ruler of creation—the very idea that the decoration of the Baptistery was meant to convey.¹⁶⁷ This, along  Ambrose of Milan De Sacr. .. (ed. Banterle : , trans. Thompson : , modified) “Therefore, God anointed you, Christ signed you. How? Because you were signed with the image of the cross itself unto His passion, you received a seal unto His likeness, that you may rise unto His image, and live after His pattern, who was crucified to sin and lived to God.” Whole body anointing was practiced as indicated by De Sacr. .. and . where the bishop uses the image of the athlete’s anointing. See Satterlee : .  Ambrose of Milan De Sacr. .. and .. – .  Peter Chrysologus Serm. . (cf. Ambrose of Milan De Sacr. .. – , De Myst. . – ) and Serm. . (cf. Ambrose of Milan Exp. Symb. ).  Ambrose of Milan De Sacr. ... For the texts and the discussion regarding their possible relation to the lost iconography of the apsidioles, see Kostof :  – .  Andreas Agnellus of Ravenna (ca.  – ) Liber Pontificalis Ecclesiae Ravennatis (henceforth Agnellus L.P.R.) . – , quoted below.

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with the obvious correlation between Chrysologus’ imagery and that used in the decoration of the Baptistery, recommend the sermons as a basis for analysis.¹⁶⁸ Caught in the Christological and Marian debates of the time, Chrysologus shared part of the theological imagery with Cyril of Alexandria (sed. 412– 44), Proclus of Constantinople (sed. 434– 46), and Leo of Rome (sed. 440 – 61). Addressed by all, the iconicity of the baptisand partook of the same knot of motifs developed in the previous century. Following the optimistic tradition of Clement and Origen, Cyril of Alexandria spoke of baptism as rendering one a son and image of God: Ἐνεσημἀνθη δὲ ἡμῖν, συμμόρφους ἡμᾶς ἀποδείξας ἑαυτῷ, καὶ τὸν διὰ τοῦ Πνεύματος τοῦ ἰδίου φωτισμὸν ὲγχαράξας ὡς θείαν εὶκόνα τοῖς πιστεύσασιν εἰς αὐτὸν, ἵνα καὶ αὐτοὶ χρηματίζοιεν ἥδη κατ’ αὐτὸν θεοί τε καὶ Θεοῦ υἱοί·¹⁶⁹

Similarly, Leo of Rome spoke of the body of the baptisand as the flesh of the Crucified, and of baptism as making one become the body of Christ.¹⁷⁰ Nevertheless, it is in the writings of Proclus of Constantinople and Peter Chrysologus that the conformation is indicated as a physical process. While the bishop of Constantinople developed “a Christology of clothing”¹⁷¹ that drew on the ritual exchange of garments characteristic of baptism, and described the effects of the Incarnation in terms that pertained to the initiation, Chrysologus presented baptism as the act through which the salvific effects of the Incarnation were enabled. Testifying that his discourse drew not only on theological speculation, but also on ritual practice, Proclus mentioned the luminous effect of the oil, relating the chrismation to the iconicity of the baptisand.¹⁷² Meanwhile, in Ravenna, on the structure provided by the Ambrosian ritual Chrysologus constructed the case of the baptisand exiting the font as an image of Christ. His baptismal theory reflects his essentially Christomorphic anthropology; the bishop of Ravenna presented the ideal human being as a theo-

 As I will argue, the iconography is consistent with Chrysologus’ baptismal theology. One detail in particular indicates the direct relation between the decorative program and the thought of Chrysologus, the depiction of the personified Jordan as attending the Baptism of Jesus instead of running scared, as other bishops imagined him. See Peter Chrysologus Serm. ..  Cyril of Alexandria In. Jo. . (ed. PG .A, trans. Blackwell : ) “The image of the Son of God was impressed on us, making us the same form as himself and engraving the illumination which is through his own Spirit as a divine image upon those who believe in him, that they too may now be called both gods and sons of God as he is.”  Leo of Rome Serm. ., ., Ep. ..  Constas : .  Proclus of Constantinople Hom. .

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phanic presence that reproduced the outlook of Christ.¹⁷³ The process of conformation to the image of God began in baptism: Hinc est, fratres, quod uirgineum fontis uterum caelestis spiritus archana luminis sui admixtione fecundat, ut quos origo limosae stirpis perfuderat sub misera conditione terrenos, caelestes pariat et ad similitudinem sui perducat auctoris. Ergo iam renati, iam reformati ad nostri imaginem creatoris, quod praecepit apostolus impleamus: sicut portauimus imaginem terreni, portemus et imaginem caelestis. […] ad instar nostri domini, sicut diximus, iam renati, quos utique concepit uirgo, uiuificauit spiritus, portauit pudor, genuit integritas, nutriuit innocentia, edocuit sanctitas, uirtus exercuit, deus adoptauit in filios, imaginem totam, totam similitudinem nostri portemus auctoris, non maiestate, qua solus est, sed innocentia, simplicitate, mansuetudine, patientia, humilitate, misericordia, concordia, qua dignatus est nobis fieri, esse communis. ¹⁷⁴

Drawing on the optimistic anthropological postulations of Irenaeus of Lyon († ca. 202), the bishop of Ravenna noted how Christ had restored humanity to

 E. g. Peter Chrysologus Serm. . (ed. Banterle et al. : , trans. Palardy : II ) “Crebre, deus hominibus formam hominis demonstrat, et magnitudinem suam tantam breuem nostri corporis colligit in figuram, ut praesentiam diuinam possit infirmus noster oculos intueri, angustus noster recipere possit aspectus.” / “God repeatedly manifests the form of a human being to human beings, and fits his own magnificent grandeur into the tiny space of our body, so that our weak eye may be able to gaze upon the presence of God, so that our limited vision may be able to perceive it.”  Peter Chrysologus Serm. . –  (ed. Banterle et al. : II  – , trans. Ganss :  – ) “Brethren, that is why the heavenly Spirit by a mysterious injection of His light fecundates the womb [the font] of the virginal Mother [the Church]. He desired to bring forth as heavenly beings those whom an origin from an ancestral stock of earth had brought forth as earthly men, in a wretched state. He wanted to bring them to the likeness of their Creator. So, let us who have already been reborn, and reformed to the image of our Creator, fulfil what the Apostle commands. ‘Therefore, even as we have borne the likeness of the earthly, let us bear also the likeness of the heavenly.’ […] Yes, let us who have been reborn to the likeness of our Lord (as we mentioned), whom a Virgin [the Church] conceived, and the Spirit enlivened, and modesty carried, and integrity brought to birth, and innocence nourished, and sanctity taught, and virtue trained, and God adopted as His sons—let us bear the image of our Creator in a perfect reproduction. Let it be a reproduction not of that majesty in which He is unique, but of that innocence, simplicity, meekness, patience, humility, mercy, and peacefulness by which He deigned to become and to be one with us.” Serm.  is part of a group of eleven sermons ( – ) commenting on the Adamic Christology found in Paul’s epistles to the Romans and Corinthians. In the Barberini Euchologion, a Greek manuscript of , but “which likely goes back at least to the time of Proclus” cf. Ferguson : , in the prayer over the font the bishop says “Be present, Lord, in this water and grant that those who are baptized therein may be refashioned […] and put on the new man, who is restored after the image of him that created him.”

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its lost iconic stance,¹⁷⁵ and recast it in His image.¹⁷⁶ Coming to dress Adam with the garment of His body, Christ imprinted His image on humanity as coins were stamped with the Emperor’s effigy.¹⁷⁷ The ultimate measure of beauty, the body of Christ was offered as a divine gift to humanity: Hinc est quod deus, desiderii conscius humani, hominem Christi tetendit in formam, ut in mensuram Christi speciositate tota decorus esset, qui in breuitate sua erat ipso se erubescente deformis. ¹⁷⁸

The reshaping process began with baptism and prompted the recovery of the state of Adam, who had been made by Christ the eternal Logos after His Image, resplendent of Divine Glory, and functioning as the Image of God within the created world: Faciamus, inquit, hominem ad imaginem et similitudinem nostram. Perfecta deuotio hoc debet imagini, quod debet et regi. ¹⁷⁹ Adhuc tamen quid adiciat ad honorem tuum tuus creator excogitat: in te imaginem suam ponit, ut terris inuisibilem conditorem uisibilis imago praesentem poneret esset que terrenus; dedit tibi uices suas, ut non fraudaretur domini uicaria mundi tam larga possessio. ¹⁸⁰

 For mankind as image of God before the Incarnation, see Peter Chrysologus Serm. .. On the effects of the Incarnation on the flesh, see Peter Chrysologus Serm. .. The process is also present in Irenaeus of Lyon Adv. Haer. .. –  and ...  On iconicity in Irenaeus, see Adv. Haer. .. and on its manifestation, see Adv. Haer. .. – . On man as image of God in Irenaeus, see Wingren [] : . On the body participating in the Divine Image, see Burghardt :  n. .  Peter Chrysologus Serm. ., bis.. See also Cyril of Alexandria In Jo. ., quoted above.  Peter Chrysologus Serm. . (ed. Banterle et al. : II  – , trans. Palardy : II ) “And so it is that God, who is aware of human desire, elongated the human being according to the pattern of Christ, so that he would be handsome and entirely good-looking by reaching Christ’s stature, when he used to be ashamed about being ugly and short.”  Peter Chrysologus Serm. . (ed. Banterle et al. : II , trans. Ganss : ) “‘Let us make mankind in our image and likeness’, Scripture says. What perfect devotion owes to a king it owes also to his picture.”  Peter Chrysologus Serm. . (ed. Banterle et al. : II , trans. Ganss : ) “However, your Creator is yet thinking up what to add to your honor. He puts His own image in you, that a visible likeness may make the invisible Creator present on earth. Also, in these earthly creatures He gave you His representations, so that this extensive possession of the world might not be lessened for the viceregent of the Lord.” This glorious state had caused the envy and fall of Lucifer cf. Serm. .. On bearing the Image, see Serm. ., ., .. On the Image being luminous, see Serm. ..

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Drawing on apocryphal traditions that presented the body of Jesus as luminous upon birth and during His baptism,¹⁸¹ Chrysologus held that the very effect of the Incarnation was represented by the capacity to shine, and that the light represented the regained iconicity.¹⁸² The glorious state was to be fully regained at the Second Coming, but a glimpse of that eventual splendour was promised at baptism: Intelligite, filioli, quanta perfectorum, quanta fortium gloria sit et potestas, quando tanta uirtus in ipso conceptu, tanta maiestas aperitur in partu. ¹⁸³

The exact character of the ritual remains unknown, as Chrysologus refrained from providing direct information on the ritual. Nevertheless, his recurrent reference in the few pre-baptismal sermons that survived to the fearful nature of the experience, the transformation of the catechumens, their adoption as Sons of God, and the glorification of their flesh, indicate that he adopted the imagery and technique developed in the previous century.¹⁸⁴ His description of Christlike neophytes as sun-like pertains to this study, as it links with both non-Christian initiations and, we will see, the iconography of the Baptistery: Erit clarior sole, qui uirtutum radiis toto orbe splendet, ut fuscari se nulla uitiorum nocte permittat. Erit, erit iste lucidior luna, qui tenebras has tenuato lumine temperat, sed totam saeculi noctem pleno meritorum fulgore depellit. Nec sicut luna cotidiana lucis detrimenta persentit, sed iugi factorum lampade in superni luminis claritate persistit. ¹⁸⁵

 On His birth, see Peter Chrysologus Serm. . (cf. Latin Infancy Gospel  –  and the Protoevangelium of James ). On His baptism, see Peter Chrysologus Serm. bis..  Peter Chrysologus Serm. ., .  Peter Chrysologus Serm. . (ed. Banterle et al. : II , trans. Palardy : I ) “Understand, little children, how very glorious, how truly mighty are the perfected and the strong, when such great power is revealed merely at conception, and when such great majesty is revealed at birth.”  Sermons  – a on the Lord’s Prayer and  –  on the Creed were pre-baptismal and were delivered to catechumens a few weeks before baptism. See Sottocornola : , . On the adoption as sons and iconicity of the baptisands, see Peter Chrysologus Serm. ., ., ..  Peter Chrysologus Serm. . (ed. Banterle et al. : II , trans. Ganss : ) “He who thus shines throughout the world by the rays of his virtues so that he does not let himself be darkened by any night of vices, he will be brighter than the sun. He who mitigates this darkness not by any dimmed light, but banishes all the night by the strong brilliance of his merits, he will surely be more luminous than the moon. He will not, like the moon, experience daily diminutions of his light, but by the steadily glowing lantern of his deeds he will remain in the illumination of a heavenly night.”

I.2 Christian Bishops on Reflecting the Image of God at Baptism

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Super hoc laetetur et caelum, quia in uno peccatore poenitentiam agente totius christiani populi claruit plenitudo, et tota deitatis forma Christi nostram refulsit in dragmam.¹⁸⁶

Nominated sun, son of God, star, celestial being, and son of a virgin (the Church), the baptisand appears as an alter Christus, the bishop’s appreciation of the ritual’s capacity to reshape one in a Christic figure being recurrent.¹⁸⁷ In Chrysologus’ opinion, baptised Christians represented an iconic community: “imaginem totam, totam similitudinem nostri portemus auctoris.”¹⁸⁸ Christians thus reproduced, as Christ did, the likeness of the Father.¹⁸⁹ In Chrysologus’ Ravenna, the need for artifices was great, with the bishop developing his discourse on the Divine Light and on the Christic and luminous character of neophytes in a cultural context that proposed attractive alternatives. At the Calends of January, Chrysologus tells us, the people of Ravenna dressed up as the Roman gods and went on procession. The bishop contrasted the practice with Paul’s instructions to reproduce the outlook of Christ, a process that began in baptism: Apostolus ergo huic formae nos prohibet esse conformes, et configurari nos huic uetat figurae, huic similitudini consimiles non esse permittit, sed ad formam dei reformat, ad similitudinem reuocat christi, et totam reducit ad imaginem conditoris dicens: reformamini in nouitate sensus uestri. Hoc est, si estis per christum sensibus innouati, abiecta saeculi huius figura et tota inueteratae imaginis deformitate proiecta, formam uestram in formam uestri reducite saluatoris, ut nouitas sensuum uestrorum in uestris uobis actibus elucescat, et caelestis homo caelesti habitu iam gradiatur in terra. ¹⁹⁰

 Peter Chrysologus Serm. . (ed. Banterle et al. : , trans. Palardy : II ) “About this let heaven also be glad, that in one sinner who repents the completeness of the whole Christian people has been visible in all its brilliance, and the perfect image of the divinity of Christ has shone brightly in our silver coin.”  Peter Chrysologus Serm. ., ., . and esp. .. The assimilation of the font with Mary’s womb is not particular to Chrysologus. Leo of Rome Serm. . (trans. NPNF .) held that “the same Holy Spirit fills the font who filled the virgin” while Cyril of Alexandria Hom.  (trans. Young : ) praised Mary as “unquenchable light, mirror of orthodoxy, indestructible temple, container of uncontainable, through whom the holy baptism came, through whom the oil of gladness came.”  Peter Chrysologus Serm. . (ed. Banterle et al. : II , trans. Ganss : ) “let us who have already been reborn, and reformed to the image of our Creator…”  E.g. Peter Chrysologus Serm. .. Chrysologus continued to play the Christomorphic card after baptism by adding the aspect of the qualitative difference existing between baptisands as adopted sons and Christ as natural son. He maintained Christomorphism but altered its expression as the luminous Glory was replaced with tribulations. See e.g. Peter Chrysologus Serm. ..  Peter Chrysologus Serm. . –  (ed. Banterle et al. : II , trans. Ganss : ) “This, therefore, is the form or pattern of the world to which the Apostle forbids us to be con-

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The sermons of Chrysologus, as well as those of other fifth-century bishops from other great centres of the Empire, show the maturation of the concepts we have seen developing in the previous century. Recognition of baptism as moment when the iconic dimension was regained indicates the influence the staging had on theological discourse. While in the writings of fourth-century bishops references to the ritually gained iconicity appear related to their desire to attract catechumens by making use of a famous concept, in writings by Cyril of Alexandria or Peter Chrysologus of Ravenna, the iconic status of the Christian is a given. The construction of monumental baptisteries in the period needs to be seen as an effect of the ritual’s popularity and efficiency. The sole survivor, the Orthodox Baptistery in Ravenna, synthesises in its architecture and decoration the dynamic we have identified as characterising catechetical practice in the period. Analysed from the point of view of its audience and taking consideration of its ritual purpose, the space reveals itself as an ideal scene for the staging of the ritual just described. Reflecting the baptismal theology of Chrysologus, the iconography of the Orthodox Baptistery links the imagery used in fourth- and fifth-century pre-baptismal sermons with fragments describing non-Christian initiations, thus testifying that bishops complemented their teachings with ritual settings which revealed God at the centre of a light theophany.

formed. He prohibits us to become like this figure. He does not permit us to be images of this model. Rather, he transforms us to the form of God. He calls us back to likeness to Christ. He allures us towards the whole pattern of our Creator, with the words: ‘But be transformed in the newness of your minds.’ That is, cast away the pattern of this world, and be renewed in your minds through Christ. Discard the unshapeliness of the antiquated form, and make your nature one modeled upon that of your Saviour, that the newness of your minds may shine forth in your deeds, and the man of heaven may walk the earth with a heavenly deportment.”

I.3 The Orthodox Baptistery in Ravenna

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I.3 The Orthodox Baptistery in Ravenna Δυσωπήθητι τὸν τόπον, καὶ παιδεύθητι ἐκ τῶν φαινομένων·¹⁹¹ Along with that of the churches of Constantinople and the Church of St. Catherine in Sinai, Ravennate cultic architecture is the most complex material testimony of the culture that came to appreciate light and its manifestations as symbols of theophany between the fourth and the sixth centuries CE.¹⁹² The epigram written in the narthex of the sixth-century archbishops’ chapel professes the conscious use of architecture and decoration to flesh out the Divine Light.¹⁹³ The text incorporates not only “la sostanza dell’immaginazione della poesia Cristiana dei secoli V-VI dove è realizzata una sintesi discreta di elementi cosmici, titolazioni onorifiche celebrative e fatti storico-religiosi di storia istituzionale”,¹⁹⁴ but also a complex theology of the Divine Presence manifested as light, and of the cultic building as its container. The same, I argue, is already identifiable in Neon’s restoration of the Orthodox Baptistery. When addressed in relation to Chrysologus’ Christomorphic and theophanic appreciation of the baptisand, against the background provided by Late Antique imagery, and taking into consideration the lighting scheme, the Baptistery appears as the setting of a ritual in which God was revealed as a nocturnal sun to the initiate. The revelation of the deity as a sun-like being, the essentially luminous character of the experience, and the iconic effect it had on one’s body–all elements we saw were present in other Late Antique cults–are given a coherent spatial and visual setting in the Orthodox Baptistery. Built by Bishop Ursus (sed. ca. 399 – 426), the Baptistery was restored by Neon a few years after the death of Peter Chrysologus. Between the bishopric of Ursus and that of Neon, Ravenna had an important rise of status, becoming capital in 402. Leaving Milan in favour of the small town protected by the marshes, the imperial court of Honorius (384– 423) had the city’s ecclesiastical status raised to metropolitan. After the death of Honorius and the court’s return to Rome, Neon emerged as leader of Ravenna. The bishop underlined the city’s continuous pretension to the status of metropolitan by producing a baptistery meant to mirror and compete with the Lateran one.¹⁹⁵ The result of the intervention was

 Cyril of Jerusalem Procat. . (ed. PG .A, trans. Wharton :  n. ) “Let the very place put you in awe and be admonished by what you see.”  Cox Miller :  – .  Agnellus L.P.R. . – , quoted below. Scholars agree to identify the Peter mentioned in the text with Peter II (sed.  – ).  Montanari : .  The Lateran Baptistery had been restored by Bishop Sixtus III (sed.  – ).

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a dual structure, “an internal aerial structure in the form of a baldacchino and an external shell which, essentially unconnected with the vault and arcades inside, provided for them a simple, solid sheath.”¹⁹⁶ As perceptively noticed by Spiro K. Kostof, Neon transformed the interior into a ciborium-like structure, with the image of Christ depicted at the apex. The use of such canopies in baptisteries was related to the enactment of a visionary experience through the decoration of their ceilings with cosmic motifs whose effect was catalysed by the lighting.¹⁹⁷ The vertical momentum of the space contextualised the scene as an ascension; in this way, it catalysed the visionary dimension of the act. The building followed the octagonal pattern of mausolea and martyria that was popularised for baptism by Ambrose of Milan.¹⁹⁸ The classic mausoleum plan was adapted to the strictures of the sacrament, with the internal structure alternating at ground-level four shallow rectangular and four deeper circular niches. While the former were carved into the walls, the apsidioles were protruding, transforming the octagon into a square with rounded corners. Above the apsidioles, the Baptistery turned into an octagon with each of the sides pierced by a large window. The upper third of the structure provided the shell for the tubi fittili cupola. The simple, unadorned exterior contrasted with the interior, which was covered in rich marble, stucco, and mosaic decoration. Little is known regarding the character of the original pavement level, now 3 meters below the present one. Excavations have shown that a circular font 3 meters in diameter was at the centre of the floor. A rich marble opus sectile adorned the upper part of the four rectangular niches into which doors initially opened.¹⁹⁹ Unfortunately, the decoration of the apsidioles has been lost. Nevertheless, the presence of scriptural passages above each presumably indicates their original iconography.²⁰⁰ The mosaic border containing the texts, which was repeatedly restored throughout the long history of the structure, has a blue background against which golden acanthus leaves appear. Among the leaves, eight golden medal Kostof : . Kostof ; Deichmann :  –  and a:  ff; Muscolino, Ranaldi, Tedeschi  remain fundamental for the study of the building.  Many Late Antique fonts were covered by ciboria. A sixth-century mosaic from Syria now in Copenhagen (Nationalmuseet, Copenhagen, inv. no. ) as well as a less complex one from the Hama Museum show that such liturgical furnishings were lavishly illuminated with lamps and candlesticks. The ceiling of the fifth-century chapel of John the Apostle annexed to the Lateran Baptistery by Bishop Hilarius ( – ) reproduces the visual effect of a ciborium, having depicted at the apex an oculus through which the haloed Lamb appears. The use of lights and visionary motifs testifies to the theophanic dimension of such architectural settings. On the cosmic dimension of canopies, see Hautecœur :  – ; Cox Miller : .  Foletti .

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Fig. 7. Early twentieth-century watercolour showing the hypothetical complete decoration of the Orthodox Baptistery’s interior. After SBAP, AD, inv. 953/1, brought to scale by R. Vasvari.

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Fig. 8. Ground plan of the Orthodox Baptistery in Ravenna (ca. 458). The possible distribution of lights at floor level in shown is black. After Kostof 1965, graphic development by L. Pini.

 The current opus sectile panels date to a restoration campaign that took place in the s, but the pattern is held to reproduce the original situation. See Kostof :  – . Initially, there were four doors that opened on the N, S, E, and W sides as discovered by Filippo Lanciani cf. Muscolino a: .  For the texts and the discussion regarding their possible relation to the decoration, see Kostof :  – .

I.3 The Orthodox Baptistery in Ravenna

Fig. 9. Exterior view of the Orthodox Baptistery in Ravenna (ca. 458).

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lions at the joints of the structure hold the portraits of male figures whose identity is disputed.²⁰¹ Above the apsidioles, a short, protruding plinth marks the end of the ground level, and creates a base for eight large arches. Within each, a trip-

Fig. 10. Interior of the Orthodox Baptistery in Ravenna (ca. 458). Detail showing the middle register of the decorative program.

tych is composed of a centrally placed window and two flanking stucco aediculae. The sixteen resulting niches contain the reliefs of standing male figures, usually identified as prophets (the four major and twelve minor ones). Each aedicula is topped by stucco scenes, twelve of which contain animals and four of which show humans. Glass mosaic covers the hemispherical cupola. Divided into three registers, this level has received a great deal of scholarly attention.²⁰² In the first register,  See the discussion in Kostof : . A similar composition, with plants surrounding human figures in the same manner, is found in second-century Triumph of Neptune mosaic from Le Chebba, Tunis, now in the Bardo Museum.  See Nordström ; Engemann ; Wisskirchen .

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Fig. 11. Mosaic decoration of the cupola of the Orthodox Baptistery in Ravenna (ca. 458). Photo from Muscolino, Ranaldi, Tedeschi (eds.) 2011.

a narrow strip shows units of fictive architecture against which four empty thrones and four altars flanked by chairs intercalate. Rendered in an inverse perspective, the scene helps detach the rest of the decoration from the space below. Above, a procession of crown-bearing apostles intercalated by vegetal candelabra circles the main scene. The latter shows the baptism of Jesus in the river Jordan against a golden background. Jesus, John the Baptist, a dove, and the personification of the river are present in the scene. Apart from the disappearance of the original lighting system and the loss of the apsidioles’ decoration, the most important alteration of the Neonian program was

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the raising of the floor level by 3 m.²⁰³ The structure measures 14.5 meters in its present state (11.5 meters on the inside), but initially had a more accentuated vertical momentum. The perception of the interior space and of its decoration is affected by the change. The relationship between the separate decorative registers and that between the details inside the scenes is modified. It is, I believe, due to this change, as well as to the changing of the lighting conditions which in the initial setting had a particular relation to the decorative material, that the solar motif which dominates the iconography of the cupola was overlooked. Through the contrast between the dark blue and the golden elements of the decoration of the cupola, a solar pattern was created by the designer, who paid great care to accord the qualities of the decorative materials with the illuminative setting. Regarding the lighting system, nothing is known apart from for the existence of eight holes in the cupola related to individual hanging lights.²⁰⁴ As the architect Amedeo Orlandini reported in 1937, the walls of the Baptistery were pierced everywhere with transversal metal bars, which, at that point, affected the structure’s stability and were subsequently removed.²⁰⁵ Part of these could have supported a complex system of artificial lighting, which, unfortunately, remains outside our reach. Due to the many alterations that took place over the centuries, the rhetoric of the materials and the ritual needs remain our main indicators for the lighting system. The level of coordination between the architecture and decoration, often praised by scholars,²⁰⁶ leads me to believe that the lighting scheme was also carefully planned as light was the medium that shaped the onlooker’s interaction with the space, due to the nocturnal setting and essentially reflective character of the materials that were used. Artificial lighting in Late Antiquity was dynamic as it was produced primarily through oil lamps and wax candles. Consequently, the reflectivity and chromatic range of the materials is fundamental to the perception of the scene.

 For the various restorations that the building underwent, see Kostof :  – .  “Si tratta di otto fori, trovati chiusi da stuccature più o meno vecchie, i quali sono posti in asse con gli otto finestroni […] Ciascun foro risulta formato dall’innesto di un tubo sui cerchi anulari ai quali è cementato con malta ed è disposto con lieve inclinazione verso il basso.” Capezzuoli :  – , quoted in Tedeschi : . The only information we have on the lighting of cultic space in Late Antique Ravenna are Agnellus L.P.R. . –  (ed. Deliyannis : ), who mentions Galla Placidia donating “lucernam cum cereostato ex auro purissimo” to the Santa Croce church, a piece inscribed with the passage from Ps. . “Parabo lucernam Christo meo”, and the Roman L.P. ., which recalled King Theodoric ( – ) donating to Old St. Peter’s two silver candlesticks weighing ca.  kilograms.  Quoted without reference in Muscolino a: .  Ghezzo : ; Kostof : .

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Analysed in relation to the ritual, the architecture appears as an extension of the decoration which, in turn, reveals its meaning when the lighting is considered. The initial impression of the scene as a depiction of early Christian heaven as a garden with martyrs dressed in luminous garments, birds, floral motifs, prophets, and hetymasias, turns out to be a scene in which “celestial beings” were born through the revelation of a nocturnal sun. This analysis invokes an ideal scenario in which the Baptistery remained closed throughout the year except for the night of Easter, as recommended by the bishops.²⁰⁷ Ideally, the mysterious structure would have been accessible only once in a lifetime, on the night of one’s baptism, following years of rumours about the wonderful nature of the sacrament and a forty-day preparation that altered one’s perception through psychological and physiological abuse. While cultic structures almost always had alternative uses and decorative programs afforded for more than one reading, I address the sources and the structure from this ideal perspective in order to identify the desired effect. Consciously redesigned in the previous century, the sacrament had a clear purpose, and the material setting was part of a coherent, orchestrated process of transmission.²⁰⁸ In the contrast between the bland exterior and the lavish decoration of the interior, in the vertical momentum of the space, in the presence of more doors than necessary, and of windows in a building designed for nocturnal use, the design’s subjection to the symbolic ritual needs becomes evident. It is, I believe, justified to approach the structure as reflecting a coherent concept. The Orthodox Baptistery offers a visual program that is both typical, reflecting the imagery used by bishops, and ideal, as it was rendered in exquisite technical conditions. The iconography reveals its intended meaning when the relation between the lighting, the textures, and the colours of the materials is taken into consideration. The direct relation between the imagery used in prebaptismal catecheses and that present in the rituals of other Late Antique cults becomes clear, with the analysis of the Baptistery in this new light filling the gap between text and built structure, and allowing to assess the relationship

 My analysis seeks to identify the relation between the space and the ritual, casting light on the relation between bishops and the audience of baptism. Baptismal art and space were, nevertheless, essentially plurivalent, allowing for a number of readings, some contradictory. Of these, I focus on what I consider to be the main one, that subjected to the main purpose of the ritual enacted in the space.  The end of the fourth and the beginning of the fifth century represented an apex for the catechetical process. The situation would change with the growing number of competentes towards the end of the fifth century; the phenomenon imposed the relaxation of catechetical strictures and generated the need for what Kreider :  –  called “post-baptismal conversion”.

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existing between the Christian initiation and those of other cults. The program made reference to the most common ideas and images associated in the period with vision, transformation, and salvation, meeting the expectations of the audience.

I.3.1 The Iconography Describing to catechumens the Holy Spirit’s visionary effects, Cyril of Jerusalem made use of language and imagery that sent to what was commonly held to be a transformative experience.²⁰⁹ As testified by the decoration of the fifth-century baptisteries in Naples and Ravenna, this was the case also with the physical staging of the act. The San Giovanni in Fonte Baptistery in Naples shows that the iconography of the Orthodox Baptistery in Ravenna was not an exception. Organised both around the image of a nocturnal sun, the decorative programs in Naples and Ravenna testify that the bishops’ recurrent references to suns in prebaptismal sermons were often given a visual counterpart. The orchestration of initiations as visions of nocturnal suns recurred in Late Antiquity. The imagery responded to the popular presentation of embodied life as the result of a fall or descent through the elements.²¹⁰ While the latter was brought about by the influence of the moon, the ascent was often related to the activity of the sun.²¹¹ Combining Ptolemaic cosmology, Platonic contemplation theories, and particular deities, Late Antique cults offered a sight of the cosmos and a theophany of a deity shown as, or together with, the sun.²¹² By virtue of the tactile character of sight—held to enact the imprint of the object of sight’s image on the onlooker’s retina, thus transforming, in a way, the onlooker into the object of sight—the vision fused both the onlooker’s identity and physical self with the deity, with the initiate’s ontological state and shape being altered to match that of his or her god. While the relation with the baptistery in Naples was direct, as the two buildings serve the same ritual purpose and make use of similar decorative programs,

 Cyril of Jerusalem Cat. Bapt. ., quoted below.  See e. g. Macrobius ( – ) In Somn. ..  Edmonds : . Neoplatonists considered the sun a hyper-cosmic power instrumental in the ascension of souls and a focal point of the contemplation that led to ascension. See Porphyry Antr. Nymph.  and Proclus Hymn to the Sun.  Lucius saw a nocturnal sun before seeing Isis, and the sixth stage in Mithraism, preceding that of the pater in which the initiate seemed to have been assimilated to Mithras, was dedicated to the sun. The sun was always shown together with Mithras, consecrating the actions of the god.

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a more problematic analogy is represented by the rotunda of Galerius in Thessaloniki. Traditionally held to be the mausoleum of Emperor Galerius (305 – 11), the structure was converted into a church and, at a later date over which scholars have argued for decades (proposed periods going from Constantine’s to Justinian’s) received a mosaic decoration.²¹³ The structure is relevant because the massive cupola held a tripartite iconographic program similar to the one in the Orthodox Baptistery. The lowest register has fictive architectural units against which standing male figures are shown in pairs. Above, in an intermediary register now mostly lost, were around thirty figures of whom only the feet survive. The feet indicate that the characters were possibly caught in a circular procession or dance. The apex of the cupola is occupied by a disk, on which an image of Christ with attributes borrowed from Sol appeared. Upheld by four flying victories/angels, the central disk functioned as an oculus, with Christ being depicted against a silver sky with stars on it. The oculus’ rim is composed of a wreath made of plants that symbolise the four seasons. The purpose of the whole setting is revelatory, the program evincing the structure of Christian heaven and, as in the Baptistery, affirming Christ’s authority over creation. Due to its uncertain dating and origin, we cannot speculate further on the relation between the two decorative programs. Furthermore, the one in Ravenna was designed with a nocturnal use in mind while the one in Thessaloniki worked best in daylight. Two points need, nonetheless, to be stressed. One, the existence in the same period (the fifth century remains in my opinion the most plausible date for the program) of a depiction of Christ as the sun-god surrounded by elements indicating natural rhythms (the seasons), and two, the relation between the funerary dimension of the structure and the revelation of Christ as Sol at the apex of the rest of Christian hierarchy. Both elements appear in the Orthodox Baptistery. Returning to baptisteries, the difference between the programs in Naples and Ravenna is one of constructive capacity and artistic virtuosity, rather than conceptual. In Naples, the substantiation of the vision of God relied mainly on the contrast between dark blue and golden mosaic tesserae, while in Ravenna, as perceptively noticed by Annabel J. Wharton, took place a “modification of traditional vocabularies of form: devices developed in antiquity to create the illusion of a reality beyond the picture plane began to be used as a means of projecting the image into the audience’s own space.”²¹⁴ Indeed, not only the contrast between the golden and the blue was used to materialise the characters

 On the chronology, see Kiilerich :  – .  Wharton : , cf. also Kostof :  – .

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in the scene, but also their depiction in a highly naturalistic, dynamic manner that added to their “presence”. Through the interplay of the decoration with the lighting, the animation rendered present the elements of the iconography. The symbolic and ritual relevance of the sun at the centre is more apparent in Ravenna due to the greater complexity of the program and the more varied effects used to create it. A nocturnal sun and a “strategy of specularity”²¹⁵ that stressed the initiate’s assimilation to the object of vision were the two central elements in the Orthodox Baptistery’s interior program. The placement of the font to mirror the baptism of Jesus depicted in the cupola invited the baptisand to perceive himself as re-enacting the baptism in the Jordan, a common ritual practice, and a visual rendition of Paul’s 2Cor. 3.18: and we all, with unveiled face, the glory of the Lord beholding/reflecting (κατοπτριζόμενοι) in a mirror, to the same image are being transformed, from glory to glory, even as by the Spirit of the Lord.²¹⁶

Standing in the font, the baptisand had a privileged view of the scene in the cupola in which the very act he or she was completing was shown. Reflecting the lights around it, the font’s water reproduced the golden oculus above. The sight of the deity, the imitation of its action, and transformation into its image were central elements in Late Antique ritual practice, with baptism proposing the same type of experience the hero of Apuleius’ novel, the reader of the Mithras Liturgy, and the Neoplatonic theurgist had undergone. The specular dimension of the setting synthesised the common belief that upon seeing the divine manifestation enabled by the ritual one came to reflect its features. Organised as an axis mundi, as a place where heaven and earth overlapped, the Baptistery’s interior visually expressed the theology behind the ritual, while allowing the initiate to regain his or her Christ-like iconicity and, with it, control

 Referring to Roman wall decoration that used illusionistic frescoes, Valladares :  spoke of a “strategy of specularity” made by “tapping into the spectator’s memory of things read, heard, or seen, and by calling attention to their architectural environment, these works of art constructed an all-encompassing illusion—an illusion that was fuelled not by deceptive pictorial accuracy, but by the ensemble’s power to blur the boundaries between representation and reality.” The same kind of technique was used in the Orthodox Baptistery, where decoration and ritual influenced the perception of the space’s character, and affected the catechumen’s perception and self-perception.  The ambivalence of the verb κατοπτρíζω, meaning both “seeing as in a mirror” and “reflecting”, perfectly captures the twofold nature of the theophany, which transformed one into the image of what he or she witnessed.

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over the created world. Keeping with the dynamic of the ritual, it permitted a double reading. At first sight, the scene presented the audience with a setting that reunited a number of famous motifs and effects often associated with revelations. Subsequently, the decorative program allowed bishops to interpret the scene and its details in Christian key, and thus draw attention to the perceptual change enacted by the ritual. Following the scene’s natural dynamic, I begin my analysis from the top, as the cupola represents the main visual focus and theological key of the program.

I.3.1.1 The Cupola’s Central Scene And He, like the sun, will by the aid of your purified eye show you in Himself the image of the invisible, and in the blessed spectacle of the image you shall behold the unspeakable beauty of the archetype.²¹⁷

The immediacy of the solar motif that dominates the iconography of the cupola has been altered by the raising of the pavement level, as well as by the fading of the blue mosaic tesserae representing the background.²¹⁸ While the raised pavement alters the apprehension of the composition by making the details more prominent, the chromatic element diminishes the impact of the sun, which stemmed from the contrast between the golden and the dark blue tesserae. The sun is carefully constructed, with the central disk that displays the baptism in the Jordan appearing as the core from which the rest of the cupola’s decorative elements emanate. The centrifugal dynamic of the scene is noticeable at the level of the undulating ribbon that circles the central oculus, in the display of the apostles and candelabra, and where the mosaic meets the stucco decoration, being further catalysed by the display of the golden mosaic tesserae. The ritual’s dependency on artificial illumination makes the placement of the golden mosaic, the most light-engaging type of surface, fundamental for the scene’s perception. While the dark blue background tended to dematerialise in the night sky outside by virtue of the ritual’s nocturnal setting and in virtue of the audience being familiar with buildings with oculi, the golden details were

 Basil of Caesarea De Spiritu Sanctu . (ed. PG ., trans. NPNF .).  Modern scholars have failed to recognise the solar reference of the scene, identifying it with a wheel cf. Kostof :  “like a multicolored Ferris wheel set in motion”; Muscolino b:  “suddividono lo spazio circolare come i raggi di una ruota”; and Ranaldi :  “si muovono, racchiuse nella grande ruota al centro, le figure degli apostoli…” See Tedeschi :  – , fig.  for a comparison between well-preserved and faded blue mosaic tesserae.

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Fig. 12. Display of golden mosaic tesserae in the decoration of the cupola of the Orthodox Baptistery in Ravenna (ca. 458). Drawing by L. Russo, graphic development by L. Pini.

projected towards the onlooker by the flickering of the lights on the golden foil. The texture catalysed the dynamic of substantiation noticed by Wharton, helping to materialise the depicted characters as they seemed to appear not on the ceiling, but on the night sky. The oculus effect is present in other structures of the period. Of these the most relevant is the Baptistery in Naples, discussed below. The symbolic complexity of the central scene can only be understood in relation to the register of the apostles, which completes the solar reference. Building on a number of famous concepts, the scene synthesises the relation between baptism and Late Antique society, testifying to the intention of the Baptistery’s designer to stage the kind of experience which was commonly recognised as transformative. Focusing on the aspects pertaining to the main concept of the

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sacrament as death-rebirth-vision-transformation-salvation, I first address the overall meaning of the scene and then that of its individual parts. The sun created through the association of the central disk showing the baptism of Jesus and the twenty-four surrounding elements—twelve candelabra and twelve apostles—is indicative of a complex acculturation: Christianity adapted its message to the imagery used in the cultural context in order to make its own tenets appealing. Failing to eradicate the cult of the sun, bishops decided to include it to make the faith more attractive. Adopted as a model for the imperial cult, Sol had gained in popularity between the first and fourth centuries CE.²¹⁹ Promoted by emperors and catalysed by the general interest in cosmology and belief in astrological determinism, the sun emerged as the ultimate symbol of the divine. Most cults included the sun in their imagery and showed it supporting the actions of their supreme god. Even when the star was not shown as Sol, it was identified with a deity, since in Late Antiquity most held the planets to be gods. Bishops reacted by overlapping the sun with Christ, which led to a literal understanding that was regretted, with the Church later stressing the subjection of the luminary.²²⁰ The process of inclusion required the importing of iconographic motifs, and the depiction of Christ was influenced in this period by that of Sol.²²¹ Also present in the spaces dedicated to the Eucharistic liturgy, the integration of Christ with the sun and the apostles with the rays was particularly relevant in the case of baptism.²²² Addressing an audience that was far from Christianised, the decoration of baptismal spaces was perceived through the prism of contemporary society, complemented by Old and New Testament theophanies mentioned during catecheses. One striking detail of the decoration of the Baptistery, which contravenes the canons of Late Antique art, is the size of Jesus. While the main figure generally dominated the scene through position and posture, in the Baptistery, Jesus is shown smaller than the apostles. Especially relevant in the case of holy or iconic

 Between Nero’s self-presentation as the sun-god in the Colossus in Rome, to Constantine showing himself on coins with Sol as his twin, Roman emperors stimulated the cult of Sol and its assimilation to the imperial function.  The worship of the sun remained a problem from the time of Ezek. . to that of Leo of Rome Serm. .. On the bishops’ struggle with astrology, see Hegedus :  – . On the association of the cult of Christ to that of the sun, see Wallraff .  Early representations of Christ in Glory seem to draw directly on the imagery of the Sun or Apollo (see the third-century mosaic in the Mausoleum of the Julii or the second-century Apollo mosaic from El Djem).  For Christ overlapped with the sun, see the decoration on the triumphal arch of the fourthcentury church of San Paolo f.l.m. in Rome, the apse of the fifth-century church of Hosios David in Thessaloniki, and the sixth-century lead ampullae preserved in Monza and Bobbio.

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people, whose stature was usually exaggerated, this aspect is more striking in the case of the Baptistery because the iconography was partly meant to place Jesus in a hierarchical relation to other categories of Christian saints, the apostles and prophets shown below. It could be that the choice was made to catalyse the oculus effect, with the smaller size indicating spatial detachment. It could also, I believe, betray the desire to assimilate Jesus with the whole disk. As noted by Friedrich Wilhelm Deichmann, the golden disk appears to reproduce the theophanic light attested around His body.²²³ If so, the entire disk can be associated with His body. The analogy between the two is supported by their relation to the rest of the iconography; the assimilation of the apostles with the rays stimulates the perception of the whole disk as Christ. The scene reproduces the setting described in the Mithras Liturgy, with the luminous deity appearing through the disk of the sun.²²⁴ In the theurgic ritual, the disk of the sun opened to become an oculus through which the higher part of the cosmos appeared. Soon after, the experience reached its apex: the sun rays turn themselves upon you; look into the center of them. Then, when you do this, you will see a youthful god, beautiful in appearance, with fiery hair, in a white tunic and a scarlet cloak, and wearing a fiery crown.²²⁵

Nocturnal suns as motors of transformative visions appeared in Apuleius Met. 11.23, the Chaldean Oracles, Iamblichus’ texts on theurgy, and Firmicus Maternus’ Carmen contra paganos 47.²²⁶ The relevance of Sol in initiatory settings drew on the association in common culture of immortality with one’s rising above the cosmic level of the zodiac. The initiations we have been studying drew on this belief in embodied life as a fall through the elements, and considered liberation/immortality as achievable through ascension through the cosmic structure. Considered “the heart of the cosmos”,²²⁷ the sun often appeared at the centre of the stylised images of the other six known planets or of the twelve constellations that make up the zodiac.²²⁸ The planets were held to condition one’s

 Deichmann : .  The Mithras Liturgy  – . The sun-disk is again mentioned on lines , , , and . On the text, see Johnston :  n. .  The Mithras Liturgy  –  (trans. Betz :  – ).  In the Oracles disparaged information indicate the use of a similar imagery, the initiate having to ascend to the “centre of light” cf. fr. , experience causing the initiate to shine cf. fr.  and .  Proclus Hymn to the Sun  (trans. van den Berg : ).  Gundel  collected and discussed all cases where the zodiac appears. His study showed the popularity of the motif in the Late Antique period, the recurrence of the radial display, and the as-

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existence, and various cults presented allegiance to their god(s) as an escape from this influence. Staged ritual deaths followed by visionary ascensions relieved one of the fear of death and, at the same time, liberated him from the tyranny of the elements. The ascension catalysed by the theophany was rendered possible, in general, by the inverse journey made by the cult’s main deity. The idea was popular in the Judeo-Christian literature of the first centuries CE; the second-century Ascension of Isaiah showed Christ descending through the heavens to render humanity’s ascension possible.²²⁹ The same seems to have been the case in Mithraism, where the god was often shown as appearing through the ring of the zodiac. Functioning as an oculus in the case of Mithraism, the scene synthesised the cosmic dominance of the god and, concomitantly, his salvific activity.²³⁰ Paradoxically, the sun and the zodiac’s inclusion in all the cults diluted their association with traditional Graeco-Roman religion, allowing their promotional adoption by monotheistic cults such as Christianity and Rabbinic Judaism.²³¹ While Christ was associated with the sun, the apostles were paired in the period with stars on Christian sarcophagi as a statement that the owner had liberated himself from the random rota nativitatis by subjecting his destiny to Christ.²³² The presence of a solar motif at the centre of an iconographic program meant to convince a non-Christian audience that baptism allowed one to see God thus appears natural in the culture of the time. The most telling examples of the influence Sol imagery had on the perception of the divine are the description of the deity in the Mithras Liturgy and the

sociation of the zodiac with deities whose cult gained momentum in the period. According to Flamant :  “Le choix d’une structure obéissant à un mouvement circulaire s’accorde avec la représentation de corps célestes—étoiles prises isolément, constellations, planetes—car cette structure reproduit la conception idèale d’un cosmos parfait, donc sphérique et ordonné, et fini. La régularité de ce type de structure, quelles qu’en soient les variants, et sa parfait symétrie par rapport au point central, expriment la loi qui régit tous les mouvements des êtres divins.”  On cosmology, theology, and Christianity in Late Antiquity, see Hegedus :  – .  Apart from the Walbrook relief, the Trier and the Modena reliefs represent the idea of coming through, as does the wooden panel of Christ from the doors of Santa Sabina in Rome ().  According to Kühnel : , by the fourth century “The zodiac belt was emancipated from the planetary configuration and became the representative par excellence of the cosmos, as well as an eschatological symbol.” See also Hanfmann : .  Mentioned in the Epistle of James ., the rota nativitatis was destroyed through baptism according to Priscillian Tract. ., a Spanish bishop executed in  for mixing Christianity with astrology. On Priscillian, see Hegedus :  – . On the rota geniturae, see Ropes [] : .

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Fig. 13. Marble relief showing Mithras appearing through a zodiac ring flanked by Sol, Selene, and two personified winds. From the third-century Walbrook Mithraeum. © Museum of London.

decoration of six synagogues dating from the fourth to the sixth centuries.²³³ First, the theurgic text. Neoplatonic theurgy was meant to attract deities to whom the theurgist could connect and be transformed. Given that Neoplatonism was a philosophical system, these deities did not need to be assimilated with the gods of mythology, and were rather personifications of an ontological stance. The god appearing at the end of the Mithras Liturgy is, nevertheless, described with solar attributes. Imagery similar to that found in the cupola of the Orthodox Baptistery is present in synagogues, six of which have on their pavement images of Sol surrounded by the twelve zodiac signs and, at times, the four seasons. At Sepphoris, the zodiac signs surrounding the figure of the sun are each accompanied by a

 The synagogues of Sepphoris, Khirbet, Beth Alpha, Hammat Tiberias, Husifah, and Na’aran. On the significance of the mosaics, see Hachlili  and ; Magness . See Carruthers :  –  on the “construction of public forgetting through overlay and remapping.”

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male figure and a star. Scholars have identified the men as the twelve patriarchs who took on the role of the zodiac, as the apostles were said to have done in Late Antique Christianity.²³⁴

Fig. 14. Floor mosaic showing the stylised Sol surrounded by the zodiac signs and the four seasons. From the sixth-century synagogue in Sepphoris. Drawing by P. Arad, after Weiss 2000: 16.

When an individual appeared in the position of the sun, at the centre of the zodiac ring, the setting symbolised his or her apotheosis. On the main side of the fourth-century Seasons Sarcophagus, now in the Dumbarton Oaks collection, a

 Marshall : .

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Fig. 15. Frontal side of the fourth-century Seasons Sarcophagus © Dumbarton Oaks, Byzantine Collection, Washington, D.C.

couple is shown inside a ring containing the zodiac signs.²³⁵ Functioning as an oculus, the ring reveals the owners’ hope for immortality in a composition that synthesised the Late Antique idea of cosmic ascension. The woman is shown with a billowed cape, an element that in the visual language of the time was understood as “a vehicle of apotheosis”.²³⁶ Worn by emperors and by Mithras in his usual depiction, the billowed mantle indicated their rising through the oculus, above the cosmic level of the zodiac, and into the realm of the gods.²³⁷ A fifthcentury ivory plaque from the British Museum, the half of a diptych, shows the apotheosis of a person.²³⁸ The character is first shown rising in a quadriga, the four-horse chariot that carried Sol on its daily path. The ascension is indicated not only by the upward movement of the horses, but also by the billowed mantle he wears. Above, in another register, two horned victories raise him as he is received by five planetary gods placed on one side of the zodiac belt, while Sol watches from the other side. We can assume that the two were raising him above the zodiac ring, into the realm of the sun.

 Sarcophagi with similar iconographies are found in Pisa and Sassari. On the Seasons Sarcophagus, see Hanfmann .  Strong : .  John Chrysostom Bapt. Instr. ., quoted below.  While Gundel :  interpreted the figure as an emperor, Buckton  identified him with Quintus Aurelius Symmachus (ca.  – ), the famous pagan orator.

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Fig. 16. Carved ivory leaf from a diptych showing the apotheosis of a Roman emperor or of the orator Quintus Aurelius Symmachus (ca. 340 – 402). Early 5th century, currently in the British Museum. Drawing by D. Ivanovici.

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It is unsurprising that the sun and other cosmic symbols appear in spaces designed for Christian catechumens. Central in the iconographic programs of the Baptistery of the Orthodox in Ravenna and the coeval baptistery in Naples, the sun was also shown as subjected to the authority of Christ in a panel on the doors of Santa Sabina in Rome (432 CE). The space par excellence of catechumens, who waited there as the community of believers celebrated the Eucharist, the narthex featured scenes from the Old and New Testaments that were likely to impress.²³⁹ Accordingly, we find numerous miracles on these gates and, on the panel of the Second Coming, Jesus above the luminaries. The solar oculus in the Orthodox Baptistery referred to by this knot of ideas that pertained to personal salvation on earth and the afterlife. The apostles circled the figure of the sun, replacing the zodiac signs. It is at this point that the virtuosity of the designer of the composition is fully revealed, with the central disk functioning as a sun both individually and in relation to the apostles. The undulating ribbon that circles the disk is rendered white on black in order to make it visible despite its rather small size. (see Fig. 11) The scene reproduces an image recurrently found in the writings of north-Italian bishops. Zeno of Verona, from whom Chrysologus borrowed much of his imagery, Chromatius of Aquileia, and Maximus of Turin († ca. 420) described the relationship between Christ and the apostles as the radial composition which presented Sol surrounded by the zodiac. Part of the process of Christianisation of the planetary deities and natural rhythms, these fragments place Christ and the apostles in the same relation seen in the Baptistery: Hic sol noster, sol uerus, qui clarissimos ignes mundi germanos astrorumque candentium polorum claritatis suae de plenitudine accendit. Hic, qui semel occidit et ortus est rursum nunquam repetiturus occasum. Hic, inquam, quem duodecim radiorum, id est apostolorum duodecim, corona circumdat, quem per ambitum totius orbis non muta quattuor animalia, sed salutiferis praedicationibus quattuor circumferunt euangelia. ²⁴⁰

 Foletti  stressed the recurrence of the scenes depicted on the doors in pre-baptismal catecheses of the time, arguing that the narthex served as catechumeneum, the place where the pre-baptismal sermons were delivered, to the adjacent baptistery.  Zeno of Verona Tract.  .. (ed. and trans. Banterle :  – ) “Questo è il nostro sole, il sole vero che con la pienezza della sua luce accende i fulgidissimi fuochi fraterni del mondo e degli astri luminosi dei cieli. Questi è Colui che è morto una volta ed è nato di nuovo per non conoscere piú tramonto. Questi, dico, è Colui che è circondato da una corona di dodici raggi, cioè da quella dei dodici Apostoli, ed è portato attorno per tutto il mondo non da quattro animali muti, bensí—con annuncio apportatore di salvezza—dei quattro Vangeli.” Dölger  related this imagery to the twelve rays of Sol’s crown.

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Nam quia ipse sol iustitiae est, non immerito etiam discipulos suos lumen mundi cognominat; quia per ipsos, quasi per quosdam micantes radios, uniuerso orbi cognitionis suae lumen infudit. ²⁴¹

Contrasting his poorly decorated baptistery with lavishly embellished pagan temples, Zeno stated that “Non fenestrarum lumen implorat, quia sol aeternus in eo manet”,²⁴² indicating the possibility of a similar setting in his baptistery. A few decades later, Chrysologus’ contemporary Maximus of Turin claimed that the Church must open the skies for catechumens in order for them to see Christ reigning in heaven: Reserandum igitur conpetentibus nostris est caelum, quoniam adhuc clausum est apud illos. Clausum enim est illis caelum, quoniam mysterium nondum peruidet trinitatis. Clauso enim sibi caelo super caelum quid agatur ignorant, nec scire possunt quae sit filii patrisque substantia, nisi prius mundi aelementa transcenderint. Tunc enim poterit quis trinitatis aspicere diuina mysteria, cum caelos sua uirtute habuerit apertos, sicut beatus Stephanus martyr reserauit sibi martyrio suo caelus et stantem uidit ad patris dexteram saluatorem, secumdum quod ipse ait: “Ecce uideo caelos apertos et stantem Iesum ad dexteram dei”. Ergo cui clausi sunt caeli agendum est, ut aperiantur illi, quatenus super caelos Christum ‘possit aspicere’; nam quamdiu clausi sunt homini, Christum non potest uidere regnantem. ²⁴³

The scene in the Orthodox Baptistery is revealed as an enactment of the phenomenon Maximus indicated if one takes into consideration the effect of the lighting situation (the relation between the hues of the mosaic and the nocturnal setting

 Chromatius of Aquileia Tract. in Math. .. (ed. and trans. Banterle :  – ) “Infatti, poiché egli è il Sole di giustizia, non a torto, chiama anche i suoi discepoli luce del mondo, perché per loro mezzo, come mediante raggi sfavillanti, ha infuso in tutto il mondo la luce della sua conoscenza.” See also Chromatius Serm. .. On Christ as the sun sending the apostles as rays, see Maximus of Turin Serm. . and ..  Zeno of Verona Tract.  .. –  (ed. and trans. Banterle :  – ) “Non ha bisogno della luce delle finestre, perché in essa [the baptistery] rimane l’eterno Sole.”  Maximus of Turin Serm. . (ed. Mutzenbecher : , trans. Ramsey :  – ) “And so heaven must be open to those requesting baptism, since it is still closed to them. For heaven is closed to them because they do not yet see the mystery of the Trinity. Inasmuch as heaven is closed to them they are unaware of what is taking place above heaven, nor can they know what the substance is of the Son and the Father unless they first transcend the elements of the world. Then a person will be able to look upon the divine mysteries of the Trinity, when he has opened the heavens by his own virtue, as the blessed martyr Stephen opened the heaven for himself by his martyrdom and saw the Savior standing at the right hand of the Father, as he himself said: Behold, I see the heavens opened and Jesus standing at the right hand of God. Therefore, when the heavens have been closed to a person they must be opened to him so that he may see Christ standing above the heavens, for as long as they are closed to someone he is unable to see Christ reigning.”

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as well as the impact of the lighting on the golden mosaic). Oculus to heaven, disk of the nocturnal sun, and mirror for those in the font, the central element in the cupola’s decoration reunited a number of motifs with visionary relevance, synthesising the theophanic dimension in a form non-Christians knew and expected. The fleshing out of a nocturnal sun through a combination of candelabra, an undulating ribbon, and a strategic display of golden tesserae on a dark blue background is also discernible in the fifth-century Baptistery in Naples. There, an eight-rayed sun generates an oculus through which the chi-rho appears against a night sky filled with stars. A solar symbol according to Martin Wallraff,

Fig. 17. Display of golden tesserae in the decoration of the cupola of the fifth-century San Giovanni in Fonte baptistery in Naples. Drawing by Bertaux 1904: 47, graphic development by L. Pini.

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the chi-rho inscribed in a circle substituted for the person of Christ in the lesscomplex composition in Naples.²⁴⁴ While for the program tout entire, the Thessaloniki Rotunda and the Naples baptistery represent immediate relations, precedents of visionary cupola iconographies are found in the fourth century. In the early fourth century catacomb on Via Anapo in Rome, Noah is shown inside a solar circle. Making use of poor materials and rendered in low quality fresco, the scene conveys the salvific dimension of the composition. In the same period and later, other Roman catacomb ceilings make use of radial compositions that present a main scene or figure surrounded by both decorative motifs and scriptural episodes. Two instances are of particular interest, seeming to indicate a transition between catacomb ceiling iconography and the cupolas found in the baptisteries in Naples and Ravenna. First, one of the ceilings of the mausoleum of Clodius Hermes, which shows a standing male figure delivering an oration in front of an audience of schematically rendered individuals. Placed inside two concentric octagons, the scene functioned as an oculus. Later, in the catacomb of Domitilla, the ceiling of cubiculum 69 has depicted a composition which announces that in Naples: the main scene is shown at the centre, surrounded by radially disposed spaces that alternate five vegetal candelabra and five narrative scenes.²⁴⁵ The emanating dynamic present in so many similar scenes in the catacombs appears here at a stage that precedes immediately the ceiling in Naples. A few decades before Neon had the Orthodox Baptistery redecorated, in Rome, two chapels were annexed to the Lateran Baptistery. Dedicated to John the Apostle and John the Baptist, the chapels had their ceilings covered in glass mosaic. On golden background, vegetal candelabra (which in the lost chapel of John the Baptist featured peacocks as those in the Domitilla catacomb), framed oculi through which the agnus Dei, the apocalyptic symbol of Christ appeared.²⁴⁶ After studying the awe-inspiring character of baptism in Late Antiquity, Edward Yarnold argued that the special techniques used in fourth-century baptism to render it spectacular were probably Emperor Constantine’s contribution.²⁴⁷ My

 Wallraff :  – . The baptistery is attributed to Bishop Severus ( – ) or Soter ( – ).  See also the third-century ceiling showing the Good Shepherd in a cubiculum of the Ss. Pietro e Marcellino catacomb and the so-called Cappella Greca from the Priscilla catacomb, found in a drawing by Seroux d’Agincourt (Ms. Vat. Lat. , f.r), both from Rome.  While the chapel of John the Apostle still exists, the iconography of the second one is known from a drawing by Giovanni Ciampini from the s.  Yarnold :  – , drawing on Yarnold .

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Fig. 18. Ceiling decoration of cubiculum 69 in the Domitilla catacomb in Rome. Drawing by Bosio [1632] 1650: 231.

own analysis of the relation between baptism, light, chrism, and vision shows that the process preceded the fourth century. Nevertheless, imperial support allowed the cult to monumentalise the effects through the use of lavish decoration, especially golden glass mosaic. Supporting my contention is the ceiling decoration of the so-called Mausoleum of Costanza on Via Nomentana, in Rome. The building, which was most likely a monumental tomb for Constantine’s daughter Costanza but possibly a baptistery attested by sources next to St. Agnese’s catacomb, had in the cupola a mosaic decoration which appears as an adaptation of the programs on catacomb ceilings to an imperial structure. Known thanks to watercolours made by Francisco de Hollanda (1517– 85) and Pietro Santi Bartoli (1635 – 700), the program announces those in Naples and Ravenna. On a dark

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Fig. 19. Mosaic decoration of the cupola in the Mausoleum of Costanza, fourth century, Rome. Watercolour by Pietro Santi Bartoli (1636 – 1700) © RIBA.

blue background, a sun-like pattern rendered in gold mosaic appeared. The staccato effect produced by the contrast between the two hues (and probably textures since gold mosaic reflected and dark blue glass mosaic absorbed light) was exploited, with the designer placing a number of scenes in the resulting space. The manner in which golden mosaic interacted with the light of candles and lamps in dark spaces was known to Christians from the catacombs. There, bottoms of glass vessels formerly used by the owners were inserted into the mortar sealing their tombs. Motifs rendered in gold leaf were pressed between two glass layers, technique similar to that used to make gold glass mosaic. Having, some of them, radially disposed compositions, these glass bottoms caught and reflected light in a manner similar to that later found in baptisteries on monumental scale. Appearing all in sepulchral context, in Rome or around it, these elements seem to have been put together in the baptisteries in Naples and Ravenna, who exploited for ritual purposes the effect of the combination. Returning to the Orthodox Baptistery in Ravenna, a large chandelier enhanced the effect of the solar motif. Guglielmo De Angelis D’Ossat related the eight holes piercing the cupola with individual hanging lights, a thesis contested

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Fig. 20. Glass bottom with gold leaf showing a couple crowned by Christ and surrounded by apostles. Fourth century, from an unknown Roman catacomb. From Bisconti and Gentili (eds.) 2007, Fig. 63.

by Claudia Tedeschi.²⁴⁸ Tedeschi had the opportunity to closely observe one of the holes, and argued that since the transversal tube used to produce it did not advance to the rim of the decoration, and given the inclination of the holes (Kostof reports 15°),²⁴⁹ the rope or chain of a hanging light would have applied pressure directly on the mosaic layer. Despite its resilience, the structure of the cupola is very delicate (only 25 centimetres thick) and such pressure would

 Tedeschi : .  Kostof :  n. .

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have damaged or at least affected the mosaic by rubbing against it. The use of a centrally placed chandelier had the advantage of gathering the eight strings and, if placed in the right position, annul the pressure by balancing the weight forces. Centrally placed lighting devices are attested in baptisteries and mausolea, with the Roman Liber Pontificalis mentioning Constantine’s donation of a twelveflame lucerna aurea to be placed super fontem in Sant’Agnese f.l.m.’s baptistery and a 4 meters in diameter chandelier for the mausoleum of his mother, Helena.²⁵⁰ The same Roman source mentions other monumental chandeliers.²⁵¹ Keeping with the circular dynamic of the central scene, the chandelier would have both drawn attention to it and underlined the relationship between the disk and the rays. If the chandelier had an empty centre, as indicated by the fact that instead of one it had eight strings, probably connected to its rim rather than to its centre, it would have provided an oculus through which the baptism of Jesus above appeared. The detail aided the visionary dimension of the setting by creating a wormhole which connected the solar disk with the font. The monumental lighting device would have dominated the space in the manner the solar motif dominated the iconography, generating an effect that assimilated Christ with the sun. Lit by a round or octagonal chandelier, the golden disk of the “sun” allowed for a double reading. On the one hand, it materialised the famous nocturnal sun that legitimised initiatory experiences in the period; on the other, it presented Christ as the supreme deity. Indeed, the scene referenced John’s description of the heavenly Temple in Rev. 21.23, with Christ as the very source of the pervasive light: and the city had no need of the sun, nor of the moon, that they may shine in it; for the glory of God did lighten it, and the lamp of it [is] the Lamb;

 L.P. . and  (ed. Duchesne : I  – ).  Constantine’s donations recorded in the L.P. . include chandeliers with diameters of over  meters cf. DACL :  – . Corrado :  discussed lighting devices (polycandela) shaped like a sun.

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I.3.1.2 The χορός of the Apostles Because He is my Sun, and His rays have made me rise up; and His light has dispelled all darkness from my face.²⁵²

Standing in the font and looking up, the baptisand saw the baptism of Jesus through the oculus of the chandelier, as a golden vision against the dark blue background. The apostles appear as intermediaries between the baptisand and God, with their stance referencing at least three famous motifs. First, on account of their relation to the central sun, they appeared as sun rays. Second, given their number and the sepulchral dimension of the ritual and space, they referenced the zodiac signs. Third, the apostles reproduced the choros, the circular dance associated with initiations. Each of the motifs had deep implications for the initiatory process. First, the solar dimension. The twelve male figures fulfil the role sun rays were given in theurgic theory. According to Iamblichus, the rays reached out to the theurgist, aiding his or her ascension through the cosmos. The ineffable light embraced him or her from all sides. The contact regave the theurgist his or her initial, spherical and luminous cosmic body. A similar relationship was produced in the Baptistery through the manner in which the apostles related to Jesus and the font. Given the curved angle of the cupola, the procession of the apostles appeared to circle Jesus in the space of the Baptistery. The designer used the particularities of the space to create an encompassing illusion. The “strategy of specularity” on which the effect was based, discussed in detail below, catalysed the collapsing of the font with the cupola and stimulated the assimilation of the baptisand with Jesus. In theurgy, the transformation enacted through the ritual allowed one to join the angels in their circular cosmic journey; an invitation present in baptismal texts since Clement of Alexandria’s time, and reproduced visually in the Baptistery by the apostles’ offering of crowns.²⁵³ Circularity brings us to the second and third connotations of the scene, the zodiac and the choros relations. Marking the passing from mortal to immortal liv-

 The Odes of Solomon . (trans. Bernard : ). Odes , , ,  refer to an initiatory ritual of the type described by Apuleius, a vision leading to the transformation of the initiate after the image of the God.  On light circularly embracing the theurgist during the ritual, see Iamblichus De Myst. . – . On the theurgist joining the angels in their circular cosmic journey, see Stobaeus Eclog. .. – . Burkert : ,  showed that the purpose of initiatory rituals in the ancient world was the creation of a συμπάθεια between the initiate and cosmos. Attuned to its rhythms through the initiation, the person was liberated from the erratic influence of the lower spheres.

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ing, the ring of the zodiac constellations reproduced the circular movement that had brought order to primordial chaos. The apostles/zodiac signs analogy appeared first in the second century CE, as part of a tradition which saw the Incarnation as a cosmic event meant to release souls from the disorder of the sublunar world.²⁵⁴ In Ravenna, the assimilation of the apostles with the zodiac was based on the common depiction of Sol or other deities surrounded by the twelve zodiac signs.²⁵⁵ The spatial relation between Jesus and the apostles indicated the recasting of humanity from the person of Christ, which was the very idea Peter Chrysologus promoted as a fundament of the baptismal act. Such complexity would not have been available to the regular neophyte without explanation and was probably discussed post-baptismally. The zodiacal relationship, on the other hand, would have been obvious due to the popularity of the composition in most cults in Late Antiquity. According to Lucian of Samosata (ca. 125– 80), choral dance (ὁ χορός) was used in all mystery cults.²⁵⁶ The motif, intrinsically related to the zodiac since the constellations were said to reproduce it, is of particular relevance for this study because it was related to luminous epiphanies. On the shield of Achilles, the text of the Illiad tells, a choros was shown. The scene was a depiction of the dance held by Daedalus during which the young men dancing wore tunics “faintly glistening with oil”.²⁵⁷ At Delos, the dance of the mortals made the immortals present at the shrine join in, the movement thus catalysing thus contact with the divine.²⁵⁸ Following a thorough analysis of the motif in ancient and Late Antique sources, Nicoletta Isar concluded that choros, the circular dance associated with initiations, was “a sacred dancing ground, a ritual place and meeting ground for a point of contact between mortals and immortals.”²⁵⁹ The circular, cosmic movement not only attracted the gods but

 Second- to fourth-century sources attesting to the belief are mentioned by Hegedus :  – . After Philo of Alexandria associated the signs with the twelve patriarchs, Clement of Alexandria Exc. Theod. . mentioned the belief in the substitution of the signs with the apostles. The motif was studied by Daniélou . The relationship between the apostles and the zodiac left other iconographic marks on fourth-century sarcophagi from Manosque, Arles, and Palermo, where each apostle is depicted with a star. Hautecoeur [] :  considered the iconography as a reference to the zodiac.  See Gundel .  Lucian The Dance  – . The present analysis draws on the study of the concept of choros made by Isar .  Homer The Illiad . –  (trans. Murray , from Isar : ).  See Mullen : .  Isar : .

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functioned as a deification technique for the mortals enacting it as during the dance they put on the features of the gods.²⁶⁰ The motif was adopted by some Christian communities, as testified by the second-century Hymn of the Dance. The text describes the apostles caught in a circular dance around Jesus: So he told us to form a circle, holding one another’s hands, and himself stood in the middle and said, “Answer Amen to me.” […] And we circled round him and answered him, Amen. […] We thank thee, Light: In whom darkness does not reside. […] I am a mirror to you who know me. […] Now if you follow my dance, see yourself in Me who am speaking, and when you have seen what I do, keep silence about my mysteries.²⁶¹

Whether or not mirroring a ritual practice, the Hymn indicates that dancing around was understood by some Christians as a way to collapse identities.²⁶² Clement of Alexandria’s invitation to be initiated and thus join the circular dance of the angels, discussed above, referenced this element, as did Methodius of Olympus’ similar statement: Νυμφεύομαι τῳ Λόγῳ, καὶ τὸν ἀἷδιον τῆς ἀφθαρσίας προῖκα λαμϐάνω στέφανον καὶ πλοῦτον παρὰ τοῦ Πατρός· καὶ ἐν τοῖς αἰῶσι στεφανηφοροῦσα πομπεύω τὰ λαμπρὰ καὶ ἀμάραντα τῆς σοφίας ἄνθη· συγχορεύω βραϐεύοντι τῷ Χριστῷ κατ’ οὑρανὸν, ἀμφὶ τὸν ἄναρχον καὶ ἀνώλεθρον Βασιλέα. ᾿Aδύτων γέγονα λαμπαδηφόρος φώτων, καὶ ἐφυμνῶ τὸ καινὸν μετὰ τῆς ὁμηγύρεως ᾇσμα τῶν ἀρχαγγέλων, τὴν καινὴν χάριν ἐξαγγἑλλουσα τῆς Ἐκκλησίας·²⁶³

Later, the moulding of Christian heavenly structure on Neoplatonic tenets popularised the concept, with Basil of Caesarea (329 – 79) stating that nothing is more blessed than imitating on earth the heavenly dance of the angels, while Ps.-Dionysius had the first angelic rank perpetually circle God.²⁶⁴ Human imitation of the stance made, as it did in antiquity, the “members of his [God’s] dancing com-

 Isar : .  The Hymn is part of the Acts of John  –  (ed. and trans. Schäferdick :  – ,  – ).  Junod and Kaestli : II  believe that it reflected a ritual practice. According to Bowe :  – ,  “As the hymn progresses, the outer circle and the central figure can no longer be clearly distinguished.”  Methodius of Olympus Symp. . (ed. PG .D-A, trans. Musurillo : ) “I am espoused to the Word, and as my dowry I receive the eternal wealth and crown of incorruptibility from my Father, and I walk in triumph crowned forever with the bright unfading flowers of wisdom. I am in the choral band in heaven with Christ my Rewarder, around the king who always was and ever shall be. I am the lamp-bearer of unapproachable lights, and I sing the new song in the company of archangels, announcing the Church’s new grace.”  Basil of Caesarea Ep. .; Dionysius Cael. Hier. ..

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pany [become] divine images, clear and spotless mirrors, receptive of the original light and thearchic ray and sacredly filled with the granted radiance…”²⁶⁵ In a baptismal context, apart from the imagery used by Clement and Methodius, we know of Paulinus of Nola taking the newly baptised to circle the altar upon their entering the church.²⁶⁶ In Ravenna, in the most intense moment of the baptismal drama, as one exited the font he or she saw the scene above as a mirror. As in a ceremony mentioned by Dio Chrysostom (ca. 40 – 115), in which the seated initiate was allowed to witness a frenzied dance that generated awe and wonder, reproducing, according to Dio, the spectacle of the rotating cosmic spheres,²⁶⁷ the baptisand observed from the font the revolving procession of the apostles. Often interpreted as an offering to Christ, the crowns the apostles hold must be addressed in relation to their role in non-Christian initiations and Christian baptism. Assimilated to martyrs, the catechumens were often advised to hold fast until they received the crown of victory.²⁶⁸ The imagery was used by other cults as well. Already at Eleusis, initiates were given crowns as a symbol of their victory over death, with Late Antique cults continuing the practice. We thus find the crown present in sepulchral spaces, from Diocletian’s mausoleum, to regular sarcophagi, and funerary monuments of wealthy families.²⁶⁹ Scenes of apotheosis often showed a person ascending through the circle of the zodiac in a chariot that resembled that of Sol, and holding the crown of victory over death.²⁷⁰ It is, I believe, in this context that the crowns in the Baptistery should

 Dionysius Cael. Hier. . (PG .A, trans. Perl : ).  Paulinus of Nola Ep. ..  Dio Chrysostom Or. . – . Dancing, as sleep and food deprivation, rattling, drumming, singing, chanting, or sensory deprivation are known to induce altered states of consciousness cf. Winkelman ; Pilcher . Circular processions around the deity were also performed in cult of the Magna Mater, during the famous Roman parade. While the goddess, represented by the statue, processed at a slow pace on its chariot, the corybants dressed in flamboyant outfits circled her, the contrast stressing the immutable, eternal character of the goddess. The motif is ancient, as testified by an Athenian bowl dated to the fifth century BCE, now in the Louvre, which shows Dionysius surrounded by pairs of parading men. See the discussion of other cases below.  See Jensen b:  – , who mentions the Late Antique sources that present neophytes as victorious martyrs receiving crowns, and states that many later Eastern rites included a postbaptismal crowning ceremony.  A sign of victory, the myrtle wreath was also a notorious symbol of the mysteria. See Maxwell-Stuart ; Blech :  – . As argued by Strong : , it was “in the same circle of beliefs symbolic of the ultimate triumph of the soul.”  See the second-century tomb of the Secundinii in Igel or the fourth-century charioteer mosaic from the House of the Water Fountains in Conimbriga.

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be interpreted, with the stance of the apostle reproducing the invitation of Ambrose of Milan: Venimus ad fontem, ingressus es, unctus es. Considera, quos uideris, quid locutus sis, considera, repete diligenter! Occurrit tibi leuita, ocurrit presbyter, unctus es quasi athleta Christi, quasi luctam huius saeculi luctaturus. Professus es luctaminis tui certamina. Qui luctatur, habet, quod speret; ubi certamen, ibi corona. Luctaris in saeculo, sed coronaris a Christo. Et pro certaminibus saeculi coronaris; nam etsi in caelo praemium, hic tamen meritum praemii conlocatur. ²⁷¹

The circular procession of the apostles integrated human and divine. The three associations—the solar, the zodiacal, and the choral—were interconnected, with the sun overseeing a process of deification in which the zodiac signs functioned as intermediaries. By offering to the initiates the symbol of salvation (the crown), the apostles invited them to join their choral dance, with the scene reproducing the invitation found in Clement of Alexandria’s and Methodius of Olympus’ texts. The same upward dynamic is present in the lower register, that of the thrones and altars.

I.3.1.3 The Thrones and Altars Register But put on the grace of the Lord without stint, and come into His Paradise, and make thee a garland from its tree, and put it on thy head and be glad, and recline on His rest.²⁷²

The space up to the level of the cupola has a strong ascendant momentum, which “accosted the viewer’s gaze upward.”²⁷³ The vertical spin dissolves as it reaches the mosaic area and meets the centrifugal dynamic of the cupola. The tension between the two movements resolves via the thrones and altars register. Standing in between, the scene opens up a visual field that unfolds at an angle inconsistent with those below and above. The register thus detaches the cupola

 Ambrose of Milan De Sacr. .. (ed. Banterle : , trans. Thompson : , amended) “We came to the font, you entered, [you were anointed]. Consider what you have seen, consider what you have said, remind it carefully! A levite met you, a presbyter met you, you were anointed as Christ’s athlete, as about to wrestle in the fight of this world, you professed the objects of your struggle. He who wrestles has something to hope for, where the contest is, the crown is. You contended in the world but you are crowned by Christ, you are crowned for your struggle in the world, for although the reward is in heaven the reward is here.” See also Chromatius of Aquileia Serm.  and ; John Chrysostom Bapt. Instr. ..  The Odes of Solomon . –  (trans. Bernard : ).  Kostof : .

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from the rest of the program. As noted by Antonella Ranaldi, “Le finte architetture musive, con portico a colonne ed esedre, alla base della cupola, aprono lo sfondo a paesaggi di giardini, dilatando lo spazio in una dimensione esteriore […] Sopra di esse, ma potrebbe anche essere dentro quell’architettura, si muovono, racchiuse nella grande ruota al centro, le figure degli apostoli…”²⁷⁴ The altars with the four gospels, which, I believe, are to be understood in relation to the scene above, continue the centrifugal dynamic of the first two registers. In their position, the gospels complete the reproduction of the image Zeno of Verona sketched, with Christ replacing Sol, the apostles his rayed crown, and the gospels the four horses that pulled his chariot around the world. Speaking of the euangeliorum quadriga, Peter Chrysologus testifies to his adoption of Zeno’s imagery, and corroborates my contention that the scene in the cupola is a visualisation of the fragment quoted above.²⁷⁵ In dialogue with the people in the font but representing an inverse dynamic are the thrones. While the gospels symbolised God’s reaching out to humans, the thrones were an invitation to ascend. Usually interpreted as a hetoimasia (ἑτοιμασία: preparation), the scene represents in baptismal context a reference to the neophytes’ Adamic character. The absence of a Christic symbol occupying the throne, as in hetoimasia scenes, and the futility of the promise of a future theophany in a place where the divine manifested in all possible manners, indicate that the empty thrones were an invitation extended to the neophytes.²⁷⁶ As promised in Rev. 3.21: To him who overcomes, I will give the right to sit with me on my throne, just as I overcame and sat down with my Father on his throne…

Given the baptisand/martyr assimilation made in the fourth century, the fragment and its promise applied to neophytes, who inherited, we have seen, part of the imagery of the games (the anointing, the crown of victory, etc.) Various sources mention the belief that in heaven the righteous were to share Christ’s throne or to receive their own.²⁷⁷ Reflecting the idea, and in close relation to the concept of baptism as it reflected developments in Christian anthropology  Ranaldi : a.  Peter Chrysologus Serm. .. See also his Serm. ., where he states that apostles light the world through the gospels.  The crosses that appear on the thrones are not occupying but decorating them, thus indicating the Christic character of those sitting on them. For a hetoimasia, see the throne in the cupola of the sixth-century Baptistery of the Arians in Ravenna.  See the Odes of Solomon . – ; Asc. Isa. . – ; Life of St. Martha ; Venantius Fortunatus Carm. .. – .

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which postulated an iconic humanity, is the recurrent depiction of Adam enthroned.²⁷⁸ Of the three cases held to be contemporary to the Neonian program, the one in Huarte is the most telling. Dressed in the white attire of the neo-

Fig. 21. Detail of the mosaic floor of the fifth-century church in Huarte (Syria), showing Adam enthroned and reigning over creation. Drawing by Canivet and Canivet 1975.

phytes, Adam is depicted as reigning over the created world,²⁷⁹ the very stance promised in pre-baptismal catecheses. The Adamic dimension of the scene in the Orthodox Baptistery is corroborated by the presence, below the register of the empty thrones, of a synthetic depiction of the world in its Edenic state. Twelve of the sixteen stucco scenes above the prophets’ aediculae show non-ferocious animals, while the remaining four depict Christ’s dominion over the beasts (Christ trampling the lion and snake), His transmission of power through

 Adam had become an object of worship in Late Antiquity in virtue of his iconic dimension cf. Anderson .  See the mosaics from Hama, Huarte, and the one presently at the National Museum in Copenhagen, presumably also from Syria. See Canivet and Canivet ; Maguire b. On Adam synthesising humanity and reigning over creation, see En. .; The Sibylline Oracles . – ; D’Alverny ; Maguire b.

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the apostles (the traditio legis), and nature’s recognition of sanctity (Daniel in the lions’ den, and Jonah with the whale).²⁸⁰ Furthermore, the purple cloaks hanging from the arms of the thrones make reference to the purple mantles John Chrysostom promised to the competentes, along with shining diadems. Beginning with the fourth century, the imperial house monopolised purple, held to be the most luminous colour. In cultic art emperors and gods were depicted wearing purple, with the colour transmitting concomitantly both radiance and sanctity.²⁸¹ Ritually gained iconicity, described as physical luminosity, translated into costumes with purple elements. The Mithraic pater and the blood-covered follower of Attis bathed in the bull’s blood referenced the idea. The enthroning of the initiate was a well-known motif and can be traced back to the myth of Dionysius. The myth, known by Christian authors, had stimulated the ritual practice called thronosis or thronismus, during which the initiate was blindfolded and scared while seated on a throne, before being released and initiated into the mysteries that assured his or her salvation.²⁸² The register helped integrate human and divine, enabling a symbolic dialogue that went in both directions. While the gospels symbolised the reaching out to humans, the choros and the empty thrones, like the crowns above, were invitations to ascend.

I.3.1.4 The Level of the Windows and of the Stucco Prophets The eight arches that host triptychs composed of a centrally positioned window and two flanking stucco aediculae represent the intermediary register of the interior decoration. The initial effect of the stucco decoration is difficult to ascertain since no trace of the original paint remains.²⁸³ Given the prominent role attributed to gold in the rest of the decoration, it is tempting to imagine the use of gilded stucco, especially since Agnellus recurrently mentioned the presence of gipsea metalla in Ravennate churches.²⁸⁴ The appearance of the windows is easier to reconstruct. Similar in shape to later ones in the churches of San Vitale and Sant’Apollinare in Classe, one can infer that they were also closed with wooden transennae, as exemplified by one extant transenna from Sant’Apollinare in

 On the holy persons’ control over the created world in Late Antiquity, see Maguire a: .  See the discussion in section two.  Clement of Alexandria Protr. ... Thrones were part of the material context of initiations into the cult of Attis. On thronismus in the mysteries at Samothrace, see Bremmer : . Edmonds  discussed the ancient sources regarding thronosis.  Tedeschi .  Agnellus L.P.R. ., ., .. I thank Rachel Danford for this detail.

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Classe.²⁸⁵ While alabaster or selenite (lapis specularis) window panes could have been used in the Orthodox Baptistery, the lavishness of the rest of the decorative program, as well as the fact, mentioned in the Liber Pontificalis Ecclesiae Ravennatis, that Neon installed fenestras mirificas (wondrous windows) in his triclinium, begs for the use of a richer and more impressive material: glass.²⁸⁶ Whether of the more common green or brown hues, or variously coloured, the lustrous glass used for the windows would have added luminosity to the decorative program inside, while also allowing light to escape. Baptism’s nocturnal setting raises a question regarding the size of the eight windows in the Orthodox Baptistery, which seem unnecessarily large (2.4 x 1.4 m) for a structure in which the interior was not supposed to be seen during the day.²⁸⁷ Indeed, when compared with the windows in the early fifth-century baptistery of San Giovanni in Fonte in Naples (ca. 1.3 x 1.5 m), those in Ravenna are nearly twice as tall. The windows in Ravenna are, however, smaller than those opened in the sixth century in the Lateran Baptistery in Rome, which have been related to the change from nocturnal to diurnal baptism. In a recent study, Olof Brandt interpreted the size of the windows in the Orthodox Baptistery as indicating a possibly dual, nocturnal and diurnal, use of the building.²⁸⁸ Alternatively, if one reads the windows as egresses for lamplight instead of ingresses for daylight, then the windows’ size could be directly related to the exclusively nocturnal nature of the ritual. The presence of metal rings fixed to the wall in line with the eight holes in the cupola indicates that each window was paired with a lighting device.²⁸⁹ The effect of the association is known from a later source; Adamnan of Iona (ca. 679 – 704) mentioned the presence of lights in front of the glazed windows of the Ascension rotunda on the Mount of Olives. The fragment, describing the effect at night, is worth quoting in full: Illius itaque supra memoratae rotundae eclesiae in occidentali parte bis quaternales superne fabrefactae habentur finistrae ualuas habentes uitreas; quibuis utique finistris eiusdem nu-

 On the transenna from Sant’Apollinare in Classe, see David .  Agnellus L.P.R. . –  (ed. Deliyannis : ). At Limoges and Brioude, small fifthor sixth-century fragments of polychrome glass cut in geometric shapes fixed in led brackets have been related to the local baptistery. See Denis :  –  on Limoges, and Gauthier :  –  on Brioude.  Deliyannis : .  Brandt : .  The originality of the rings presently in place is doubtful but an archive photo documenting one of the restoration campaigns in the Baptistery shows that the scaffoldings were anchored to these rings, attesting to their firmness.

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meri uicinae lampades intrinsecus e regione positae in funibus pendentes ardent, quae uidelicet lampades sic colocatae ut unaqaeque lampas nes superius nec inferius pendeat sed quasi adherens eidem finistrae uideatur cui interius e regione positae propinqua specialiter cernitur. Quarum utique lampadum in tantum claritas refulget ut earum lumine quasi de superiore Oliueti montis loco coruscantium per uitreum habundanter effuso non tantum ea eiusdem montis pars quae occasum uersus eidem adheret rotundae et lapidae basilicae sed etiam ciuitatis Hierusolimae de ualle Iosaphat ascensus per quosdam grados in altum sublimatus clare quamlibet in tenebrosis noctibus mirabiliter inlustretur et maior eiusdem pars urbis anterior e regione positae similiter eadem inluminetur claritudine. Haec fulgida et praedicabilis octenalium inagnarum coruscatio lucernarum de monte sancto et de loco Dominicae ascensionis noctu refulgentium maiorem, ut Arculfus refert, diuini amoris alacritatem credulorum respicientium cordibus infundit quendamque pauorem mentis cum ingenti interna conpunctione incutit. ²⁹⁰

In Late Antiquity, oil lamps and candles were votive donations par excellence. ²⁹¹ Lights stood as visual testimony of a saint’s capacity to answer prayers, since appreciative believers frequently gave such offerings in return for blessings received.²⁹² One could appraise a shrine’s power at a glance based on the abun-

 Adamnan of Iona De locis sanctis . –  (ed. Bieler :  – , trans. Macpherson :  – ) “Further in the western side of the round church we have mentioned above, twice four windows have been formed high up with glazed shutters, and in these windows there burn as many lamps placed opposite them, within and close to them. These lamps hang in chains, and are so placed that each lamp may hang neither higher nor lower, but may be seen, as it were, fixed to its own window, opposite and close to which it is specially seen. The brightness of these lamps is so great that, as their light is copiously poured through the glass from the summit of the Mountain of Olivet, not only is the part of the mountain nearest the round basilica to the west illuminated, but also the lofty path which rises by steps up to the city of Jerusalem from the Valley of Josaphat, is clearly illuminated in a wonderful manner, even on dark nights; while the greater part of the city that lies nearest at hand on the opposite side is similarly illuminated by the same brightness. The effect of this brilliant and admirable coruscation of the eight great lamps shining by night from the holy mountain and from the site of the Lord’s ascension, as Arculf related, is to pour into the hearts of the believing onlookers a greater eagerness of the Divine love, and to strike the mind with a certain fear along with vast inward compunction.” I thank Daniela Mondini for this reference.  On lighting devices during the period, see Geertman  and Pavolini : . According to the Roman L.P. between Xystus III (sed.  – ) and Simplicius (sed.  – ),  crown lights,  candelabra,  candlestick chandeliers,  lanterns,  chandeliers, and  various lights of different sizes and material were donated by bishops to different churches in Rome. It should be stressed that half of the  years are represented by the rule of Leo of Rome ( – ) for whom no specific information on lighting devices is given, certainly due to the vast amount of data regarding the activity of this important bishop.  While fairly affordable, silver lamps allowed one to contribute to that fundamental aspect of the Late Antique shrine’s appeal, the luminous manifestation of the saint’s power. On prices

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dance and richness of its artificial illumination.²⁹³ Indicating divine favour, the luminosity of cultic spaces poured outside through the windows. It is no wonder that in the mosaic Theodoric the Great (493 – 526) commissioned in Sant’Apollinare Nuovo, the church and baptistery to his right have gleaming windows. Resembling the Arian cathedral and adjoining baptistery he built, the structures are contrasted with those on his left. A church, baptistery, and a third structure which, in my opinion, represent the Orthodox Cathedral, Baptistery, and episcopium are shown with dark windows. The choice showed that while Theodoric took pride in his patronage of both churches, he wanted to stress that divine and royal favour stood with the Arian one. The interior’s luminosity spoke to the out-

Fig. 22. Detail of the mosaic showing the palace of Theodoric the Great in Sant’Apollinare Nuono in Ravenna (504). Photo by N. Thompson.

side world of the efficacy of the cult and of its capacity to intermediate divine favour. In the time of Neon, the sacredness of the interior poured outside into a world that was yet to be fully Christianised. As it testified to the luminous manifestation of the divine inside the space, the effect invited all to baptism.²⁹⁴ Bishops thus used the building in the same manner in which they used pre-baptismal sermons, to stimulate the curiosity of their audience. The contrast between the unprepossessing exterior of the Baptistery and the splendour indicated by its gleaming windows testified to the awe inspiring character of the experience. Inside, the lamps hanging in front of the lustrous surfaces would have cast their light on the windows as well as the stucco prophets. Lit from the side, the

and affordability of silver objects in Late Antiquity, see Leclercq ; Mundell Mango : .  E. g. Gregory of Tours Glor. Mart.  (trans. Van Dam : ) “In this crypt there is a great brightness, which I think indicates the merits of the martyrs.”, cf. also Cesarius of Arles Serm. .; Venantius Fortunatus Carm. ..  Venantius Fortunatus Carm. .. –  mentions how the luminosity of shrines attracted people.

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materiality of the latter would have been emphasised, with the effect substantiating their presence. Furthermore, the interaction between the reflective textures and the lights would have effected a form of animation. Venantius Fortunatus (ca. 530 – 600), describing the effect of light on the decorative program in the cathedral in Nantes, wrote: Illic expositos fucis animantibus artus uiuere picturas arte reflante putas. Sol uagus ut dederit per stagnea tecta colorem, lactea lux resilit, cum rubor inde ferit. Ire redire uides radio crispante figuras atque lacunar agit quod maris unda solet. ²⁹⁵

The intermediary register thus contributed to the main concept behind the decorative program: the substantiating of heaven and the fleshing out of heavenly beings inside the Baptistery. Adding to the luminosity of the space and providing the contrast necessary for the stucco figures to appear more prominent than their position and size allowed, the lights stressed the presence of the prophets, who extended from the aediculae in the manner the lower deities appeared through oculi in the relief from the Sidon Mithraeum, now in the Louvre. Reaching through the marble slab to witness Mithras slaying the bull, personifications of Sol, Selene, and the four seasons underlined the cosmic relevance of the tauroctony through their presence. Concomitantly, the main god was placed at the end of a hierarchy of theophanies. In the Baptistery, the prophets created a similar effect, with their curiosity stressing the visionary/revelatory character of the scene, while their presence completed the tripartite structure of Christian heaven (together with the apostles and God). This added to the dynamic of ascension, which was fundamental to the design of the space and to the ritual experience, with the hierarchical structuring stressing the vertical momentum of the space. The eight lights hanging in front of the windows created a second luminous circle, wider than that of the main chandelier. Furthermore, given the period’s custom of placing lamps on metal rods hanging from ledges, it is reasonable to think that the pediment of the windows and stucco aediculae, originally 3 meters higher than now, held a series of them.²⁹⁶ The eight male figures rendered in

 Venantius Fortunatus Carm. .. –  (ed. Reydellet : , trans. Roberts /: ) “There colors bring life to limbs on display; you’d think the pictures were living, animated by art. You see the figures come and go in the undulating sunlight; The panelled ceiling behaves like the waves of the sea.” See Roberts /; Schellewald , .  I thank Lioba Theis for this suggestion. For the usual system, see Fobelli : figs. , , and .

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golden mosaic just below invite the presence of at least as many lights. Looking upwards from the font, one would have seen the image of Jesus appearing at the centre of a series of three concentric luminous oculi (eight in front of the mosaic male figures, eight in front of the windows, and the central chandelier). Diminishing as they got further, they enhanced the sensation of ascension. The setting helped collapse the central scene of the cupola with the font. Paul the Silentiary († 580) described in the next century the effect of a similar setting. Praising the artificial illumination of Hagia Sophia in Constantinople, where three concentric circles of lamps hung from the cupola, Justinian’s court poet stated: Πάντα μὲν ἀγλαΐῃ καταειμένα, πάντα νοήσεις ὄμμασι θάμβος ἄγοντα· φαεσφορίην δὲ λιγαίνειν ἑσπερίην οὐ μῦθος ἐπάρκιος. Ἦ τάχα φαίης ἐννύχιον Φαέθοντα καταυγάζειν σέβας οἴκου.²⁹⁷

I.3.1.5 The Floor Level The likeness of what is below is that which is above.²⁹⁸

After his body became luminous during baptism, Gregory of Nazianzus’ father continued to manifest his iconicity καὶ τῷ προθεῖναι τύπον ἑαυτὸν, ὥσπερ ἀνδριάντα πνευματικὸν, εἰς κάλλος ἀπεξεσμένον πάσης ἀρίστης πράξεως.²⁹⁹ Presenting the initiate as visually representing the divinity whose “mystery” he or she had just come to know had already appeared as a practice in third-century Egypt. The ritual that Apuleius’ hero underwent involved his entering the temple’s innermost chamber, where he saw the sun shining at night and ascended through the elements. After his visionary ascent, he was presented as embodying the divine. Displayed on a platform as a cultic statue, Lucius was dressed in a twelve-piece costume that included a crown imitating sun-rays, thus combining references to the zodiac and the sun. The initiate fleshed out the outlook of the divine for the rest of believers in a spectacle that included references to the structure of the cosmos. The same was promised to catechumens by John Chrysostom in the next century:

 Paul the Silentiary Descr. S. Soph.  –  (ed. Fobelli : , trans. Mango [] : ) “Thus everything is clothed in beauty, everything fills the eye with wonder. But no words are sufficient to describe the illumination in the evening: you might say that some nocturnal sun filled the majestic temple with light”.  The Odes of Solomon . (trans. Bernard : ).  Gregory of Nazianzus Or. . (ed. PG .C, trans. NPNF .) “by setting himself before them as an example, like a spiritual statue, polished into the beauty of all excellent conduct.”

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Μνήσθητε οὖν, ὅταν ἔλθητε εἰς τὴν βασιλείαν ἐκείνην, ὅταν τὸ ἱμάτιον τὸ βασιλικὸν ἀπολάβητε, ὅταν τὴν πορφύραν περιβάλησθε τὴν αἵματι βαφεῖσαν Δεσποτικῷ, ὅταν διάδημα ἀναδήσησθε τῶν ἡλιακῶν ἀκτίνων φαιδροτέρας ἔχον πανταχόθεν ἐκπηδώσας λαμπηδόνας.³⁰⁰

When paired with the setting found in baptisteries, where the initiate replicated the act of his or her god in a font placed to mirror the oculus on which the deity or its symbol appeared, the fragment testifies to the mise-en-scène imitating settings found in other cults. Like the followers of Mithras and other cults practicing the taurobolium (the ritual sacrifice of a bull and bathing in its blood), the baptisand bathed in water mixed with the fiery substance of the Spirit. Upon exiting, like the Mithraic pater, the baptisand bore the image of his or her God. The pater wore now the purple cape of Mithras, indicative of the blood of the primordial bull, while the baptisand bore the luminous Image lost by Adam represented first by the luminous chrism and later by the white garments and lit torches. By referring to the blood-dipped purple robe, the diadem of Sol, and physical luminosity, Chrysostom promised to his unbaptised audience the type of ritual they knew was transformative. The preacher thus manipulated his audience’s perception of the coming ritual, building expectation and a perceptual frame through which the performance was apprehended. The process described above occurred in the Orthodox Baptistery, where the baptisand’s position made him both mirror and embody the Divine Image.³⁰¹ The scene in Ravenna reflected the teachings of bishops, who insisted that each baptism partook of the original Jordan scene, through the power of God.³⁰² Indeed, the scene appears as an enactment of Methodius of Olympus’ interpretation of Rev. 12.1. Identifying the woman clothed with the sun and who wore a twelvestar crown with the Church giving birth to Christ-like, luminous sons, the bishop assimilated the moon on which the woman was said to stand with the baptismal font. The woman/Church brought forth baptisands that it had μόρφωσιν μορφοῦ John Chrysostom Bapt. Instr. . (ed. PG .B, trans. Harkins : ) “Remember me, then, when you come into that kingdom, when you receive the royal robe, when you are clothed with the purple which has been dipped in the Master’s blood, when you put on your heads the diadem whose lustre leaps forth on every side with a brightness which rivals the rays of the sun.” See also Cyril of Jerusalem Procat.  announcing that baptism would be to catechumens, among other things, a death, a new birth, a shining garment, a holy seal, a chariot to heaven.  Maier :  –  interpreted the signing of the font’s water and the baptisand’s body with an oil cross as a gesture meant to establish a visual analogy with the luminous cross depicted in the cupola in Naples.  Cyril of Jerusalem Myst. Cat. .; Ambrose of Milan De Myst. .. and De Sacr. ..; Augustine Enarr. in Ps. . insisted that the sacraments participated in the historical acts they re-enacted. Thus, the baptisand replicating the baptism of Jesus depicted above was, in a sense, Jesus.

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σαν τοῦ Χριστοῦ.³⁰³ The boy she carried represented each neophyte since, according to Methodius: ἐπειδὴ τοὺς χαρακτῆρας καὶ τὴν ἐκτύπωσιν καὶ τὴν ἀῤῥενωπíαν εἰλικρινῶς τοῦ Χριστοῦ προσλαμϐάνουσιν οἱ φωτιζόμενοι, τῆς καθ᾽ ὁμοíωσιν μορφῆς ἐν αὐτοῖς ἐκτιπουμένης τοῦ Λόγου, καὶ ἐν αὐτοῖς γεννωμένης κατὰ τὴν ἀκριϐῆ γνῶσιν καὶ πíστιν· ὥστε ἐν ἑκάστῳ γεννᾶσθαι τὸν Χριστὸν νοητῶς.³⁰⁴

The same metaphor of the font as a womb giving birth to Christ-like beings was present in Chrysologus’ sermons. Placing the birth and baptism of Christ on the same calendar day, and adopting the apocryphal tradition according to which His body was luminous in both instances, Chrysologus reinforced the theophanic dimension of baptism. In light of the role played by the solar motif in baptisteries, and of the womb/font analogy, the description of Jesus’ baptism by Proclus of Constantinople, Chrysologus’ contemporary, gains particular significance: Ἐν ποίᾳ ἡηέρᾳ, ὧ προφῆτα; Τῇ τῆς ἐνανθρωπήσεως, ὅτε Παρθένος οὐρανὸν ἐμιμήσατο· ὅτε ἐκ γαστρὸς ἐξεπήδησαν ἀκτῖνες· ὅτε ἐκ μήτρας προέκυπτε σαρκωθεὶς ἥλιος· ὅτε τὸ φῶς ἐσχηματίσθη ἀνθρωπείᾳ μορφῇ· ὅτε ὁ τόκος τοῦ τεχθέντος, οὐκ ἀρχὴ, ἀλλ’ ὰνατολή.³⁰⁵

According to Ps.-Hippolytus of Rome, most likely another fifth-century bishop, the same happened with every baptisand: Ὁ γαρ καταϐαίνων μετὰ πἰστεως εἰς τὸ τῆς ἀναγεννήσεως λουτρὸν διατάσσεται τῷ πονηρῷ, συντάσσεται δὲ τῷ Χριστῷ· ἀπαρνεῖται τὸν ἐχθρὸν, ὁμολογεῖ δὲ τὸ, Θεὸν εἶναι τὸν Χριστόν· ἀποδύεται τὴν δουλείαν, ἐνδύεται δὲ τὴν υἱοθεσίαν· ἀνέρχεται ἀπὸ τοῦ βαπτίσμα-

 Methodius of Olympus Symp. . (ed. PG .B, trans. Clark et al. : ) “forming them according to the likeness and form of Christ…”  Methodius of Olympus Symp. . (ed. PG .C, trans. Clark et al. :  – ) “the Church is here said to give birth to a male; since the enlightened [the baptised] receive the features, and the image, and the manliness of Christ, the likeness of the form of the Word being stamped upon them, and begotten in them by a true knowledge and faith, so that in each one Christ is spiritually born.” Methodius was one of the bishops who held that the body also reflected the Image cf. Methodius of Olympus De Ress. .. – . See Burghardt :  – .  Proclus of Constantinople Hom. . (ed. PG .B, trans. Constas : ) “On the day of the Incarnation the Virgin imitated heaven, and beams of light flashed forth from her womb. A sun made flesh rose from her body, and the light took shape in human form, mystically dawning on the world.” The assimilation of the font with Mary’s womb is also present in Leo of Rome Hom. . and was recurrent in Chrysologus’ sermons.

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τος λαμπρὸς ὡς ὁ ἥλιος, ἀπαστράπτων τὰς τῆς δικαιοσύνης ἀκτῖνας· τὸ δὲ μέγιστον, ἅνεισιν υἱὸς Θεοῦ, καὶ συγκληρονόμος Χριστοῦ.³⁰⁶

The effect, as in the case of Lucius, the Mithraic pater, and Gregory of Nazianzus’ father, continued after the ritual, the person becoming, in fact, a sort of statue of the divine: Ἐὰν οὖν ἀμόλυντον τοῦτο τηρήσει τις τὸ κάλλος καὶ ἀσινὲς, καὶ τοιοῦτον, ὁποῖον αὐτὸς ὁ συστησάμενος αὐτὸ καὶ ζωγραφήσας ἀπετύπωσε, τὴν αἰώνιον ἀπομιμησάμενος φύσιν καὶ νοητήν, ἧς καὶ χαρακτήρ ἐστιν ὁ ἄνθρωπος καὶ ἀπεικόνισμα, γεγονὼς οἷον ἄγαλμά τι περικαλλέστατον καὶ ἱερόν˙ ἐντεῦθεν μετενεχθεὶς εἰς τὴν μακάρων πόλιν τοὺς οὐρανούς, ὥσπερ ἐν ναῷ κατοικισθήσεται.³⁰⁷

In the Orthodox Baptistery, the floor level appears adapted to the strictures of the ritual, combining the symbolic with the functional. The apsidioles provided the space necessary for the ritual steps while the four doors stressed the baptistery’s cosmic dimension through their association with the gospels depicted above.³⁰⁸ As noticed by Cetty Muscolino, the pairing appears as a visual enactment of Lk. 13.29: “and they shall come from east and west, and from north and south, and shall recline in the reign of God.”³⁰⁹ Positioned at the intersection of cardinally placed doors, and mirroring the disk of the sun above, the font was at the crossroad of the cosmos and reunited the vertical and the horizontal axes. The position reinforced the baptisand’s Ada-

 Ps.-Hippolytus of Rome In sancta theophania  (ed. PG .AB, trans. ANF .) “For he who comes down in faith to the laver of regeneration, and renounces the devil, and joins himself to Christ; who denies the enemy, and makes the confession that Christ is God; who puts off the bondage, and puts on the adoption, he comes up from the baptism brilliant as the sun, flashing forth the beams of righteousness, and, which is indeed the chief thing, he returns a son of God and joint-heir with Christ.” Voicu  believes that the work belonged to Leontius of Constantinople (ca.  – ).  Methodius of Olympus Symp. . (ed. PG . – , trans. Clark et al. : ) “If, then, any one will keep this beauty inviolate and unharmed, and such as He who constructed it formed and fashioned it, imitating the eternal and intelligible nature of which man is the representation and likeness, and will become like a glorious and holy image, he will be transferred thence to heaven, the city of the blessed, and will dwell there as in a sancturary.” Thecla later ends her peroration with a phrase inspired from Clement of Alexandria’s association of baptism with mysteria.  Whether or not the absidioles were decorated with figurative mosaics remains debated. If present, these would have probably shown a selection of scenes that stressed the salvific potential of baptism, as in other cases of baptismal art–that is art related to the sacrament, whether depicting the act or decorating the spaces associated with it.  Muscolino b:  n. .

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mic character as the first human was considered by bishops a microcosm that reunited heaven and earth.³¹⁰ Round, the original font was not large enough to hold a central light as the Lateran one.³¹¹ Its circular shape invited the marking of the points of entrance and exit with candlesticks placed on the font’s side. The articulation was so common that it permeated into the decoration of fonts.³¹²

Fig. 23. Baptismal font from the sixth-century baptistery in Kélibia. The candles depicted on the interior of the font indicate that the four target-like motifs next to them mark the position of candlesticks. Photo by D. Jarvis.

The light from the candlesticks interacted with the water’s surface and the baptisand’s anointed body, as indicated by sources that praised the scintillating

 The idea was very popular in the fourth and fifth centuries. See Firmicus Maternus Lib. Ter. Prooem.  – ; Gregory of Nazianzus Or. .; etc. For the evolution of the idea until late medieval times, see D’Alverny .  L.P. ..  See the fonts at Kélibia (Ristow : , nr. ), now in the Bardo Museum, and Sidi Jedidi (Ristow : , nr. ), where candles are depicted on the mosaic covering the interior of the font, indicating the position of the candlesticks. Candlesticks were found in the Ayios Philon baptistery. See Taylor and Megaw .

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effect.³¹³ As stressed by Arthur Strong, fire was considered an instrument of apotheosis.³¹⁴ Most ancient mysteria took place by the light of torches, as did the Late Antique rituals that drew on them. According to Iamblichus, who made fire both the nature of the gods and the vehicle of one’s ascension to them, fire “purifies all things that are brought near it, releasing them from the bonds of matter and, by virtue of the purity of its nature, making them meet for communion with the gods. So, too, it releases us from the bondage of corruption, it likens us to the gods, it makes us meet for their friendship, and it converts our material nature into an immaterial.”³¹⁵ The presence of lights on the side of the font catalysed the visionary and transformative dimensions of the ritual, as attested by Chrysostom, who spoke of the role of fire in the melting and reshaping of the person in baptism: Μὴ θαυμάσῃς, εἰ γένεσις καὶ φθορὰ γίνεται ἐν τῷ βαπτίσματι· ἐπεὶ, εἰπέ μοι, τὸ λύειν τῷ συγκολλᾷν οὐκ ἐναντίον; Παντί που δῆλον. Τοῦτο τὸ πῦρ ποιεῖ· κηρὸν μὲν γὰρ διαλύει καὶ ἀπόλλυσι, γῆν δὲ μεταλλικὴν συγκολλᾷ καὶ χρυσὸν ἐργάζεται. Οὕτω δὴ καὶ ἐνταῦθα, τὸν κήρινον ἀνδριάντα ἀφανίσασα ἡ τοῦ πυρὸς δύναμις, ἔδειξε χρυσοῦν ἀντ’ ἐκείνου· πήλινοι γὰρ ὄντως ἦμεν πρὸ τοῦ λουτροῦ, χρυσοῖ δὲ μετὰ τοῦτο.³¹⁶

Reproducing visually both Adam and Christ, the baptisand took up his representational mission as statue of God and axis mundi, fulfilling the ideal of the Late Antique religious virtuoso: By serving as the focus of his religious movement, the charismatic leader obviated the need for any geographic center of sacred power. He himself became the “cosmic axis”, connecting mortal to immortal, earth to heaven, and he moderated their interaction.³¹⁷

 Cyril of Jerusalem Myst. Cat. .; Zeno of Verona Tract.   and . In Ivanovici , I attempted to reconstruct the likely illuminative setting in the Orthodox Baptistery. For the possible distribution of light sources at ground level, see Fig. .  Strong : .  Iamblichus De Myst. . (trans. Strong : ).  John Chrysostom Hom. in Epist. ad Coloss. . (ed. PG ., trans. NPNF .) “Marvel not that generation and destruction take place in Baptism; for, tell me, dissolving and cementing, are they not opposite? It is evident to all. Such is the effect of fire; for fire dissolves and destroys wax, but it cements together metallic earth, and works it into gold. So in truth here also, the force of the fire, having obliterated the statue of wax, has displayed a golden one in its stead; for in truth before the Bath we were of clay, but after it of gold.” I thank Rachel Danford for this reference.  Johnston : .

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Like the heroes of Philo, Plutarch, Plotinus, or Iamblichus, the baptisand became a theophanic screen that displayed the true nature and outlook of the divine.³¹⁸ The assimilation of the baptisand with Christ was stimulated also by the manner in which the cupola was decorated. The scene visible from the font was consistent with Plotinian contemplation theory. The Neoplatonic philosopher believed that the perfect frontality of the sight catalysed one’s assimilation to the object of the vision. This appears to have been the guiding principle for the designer of Jesus in the Orthodox Baptistery (the present head, completely reconstructed, does not keep with the perfect frontality of the body). The inverse perspective of the altars’ and thrones’ frieze, an element particular to Late Antique visionary art according to André Grabar, stressed the flatness of Jesus’ body, underlining its centrality and collapsing it with the font below. Both techniques, that is, the mirror-like rendering of the central image and its surrounding with elements depicted in an inverse perspective, represent, in Grabar’s view, visual formulas meant to place the onlooker within the scene.³¹⁹ Stimulated by the shape of the cupola and the presence of the concentric luminous rings, and supported by the teachings accompanying the ritual, the concept appears perfectly rendered in the Baptistery, where the decoration “can be said to form a tridimensional spherical composition where the images on the surfaces revolve around a common vertical axis that corresponds to the actual space enclosed by the architectural form of the cupola.”³²⁰ Standing in the font and looking up, the baptisand lived the same kind of experience Apuleius’ hero and the theurgist in the Mithras Liturgy sought, and with which Chrysologus credited Paul: Probat hoc apostolus paulus, qui dum satis terram uicit, et intrauit caelum, et transiuit alium, et usque ad tertium meruit peruenire. Et iuste, nam primus conscendere debet caelos, qui sic et uerbo et exemplo homines penetrare docuit caelos. Erit, erit maior caelo, qui uiuit sicut docuit paulus. Erit clarior sole, qui uirtutum radiis toto orbe splendet, ut fuscari se nulla uitiorum nocte permittat. Erit, erit iste lucidior luna, qui tenebras has tenuato lumine temperat, sed totam saeculi noctem pleno meritorum fulgore depellit. Nec sicut luna cotidiana lucis detrimenta persentit, sed iugi factorum lampade in superni luminis claritate persistit. Nec iste, sicut illa, menstruo interpolatur obscuro, sed in claritate dei continua permanebit. Et si magna est illa, quod mitigat noctem, quanto hic maior, cuius uita recipit nil de nocte! ³²¹

 On the ideal human being a statue-like representation of god for Philo, see De Vita Moysis . – . On Plotinus, see Enn. .., and on Iamblichus De Myst. . – ., . – . On Plutarch, see his Ad Principem ineruditum EF.  Grabar [] :  – .  Kostof :  – .  Peter Chrysologus Serm. . (ed. Banterle et al. : II , trans. Ganss : ) “The example of Paul the Apostle is proof of this. While he was winning quite a victory over the world, he penetrated the sky, and passed through the second heaven, and deserved to get

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As in a setting described by Hippolytus of Rome, quoted above, the reflection of the scene in the font’s water made it appear animated.³²² Viewed on the moving surface in the flickering of the lights, the scene above appeared alive, as in a scene described by Apuleius: If you bent low and gazed into the water which skirted the goddess’ feet as it lapped into gentle waves, you would think that the bunches of grapes hanging from the rock possessed the faculty of movement as well as other lifelike qualities. In the middle of the foliage a statue of Actaeon was visible, fashioned in marble and reflected in the water;³²³

In a cultural context in which the image was held to share in the ontological reality of its subject, enargeia, the lifelikeness of depictions, appeared as animation.³²⁴ We are presented in the Baptistery with what to the Late Antique audience was an ideal theophanic experience. Drawing on a number of motifs that in contemporary culture stood for ideas of resurrection, ascension, vision, and transformation, the scene represented an appropriate setting for a life-changing ritual. Introduced to an audience that had been subjected to fasting, sleep deprivation, recurrent stress of personal inadequacy, and threatened with the possibly destructive character of the incoming experience, the light-bathed interior was more likely to have been perceived as a genuine theophany.

all the way to the third one. All this was right. For, surely, he who by his word and example had so well taught others how to enter the heavens should himself be the first to rise into them. He who will live according to Paul’s teaching, he, too, will surely be greater than the sky. He who thus shines throughout the world by the rays of his virtues so that he does not let himself be darkened by any night of vices, he will be brighter than the sun. He who mitigates this darkness not by any dimmed light, but banishes all the night by the strong brilliance of his merits, he will surely be more luminous than the moon. He will not, like the moon, experience daily diminution of his light, but by the steadily glowing lantern of his deeds he will remain in the illumination of a heavenly light. Neither is he, like the moon, changed by a monthly waning, Rather, he will bask forever in the uninterrupted love of God. If the moon is great because it moderates the night, how much greater is this man whose life admits no darkness of night into itself!”  Hippolytus of Rome Ref. Haer. . – , quoted above.  Apuleius Met. . (trans. Walsh : ). Prudentius Perist. . and Paulinus of Nola Carm. . –  mention the interplay between the font’s surface and the ceiling’s decoration in baptisteries in Rome and Nola, respectively.  On enargeia, see below.

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I.4 Conclusion: Encountering the Divine in Fifth-Century Ravenna Quid quod et Invictum spelaea sub atra recondunt quemque tegunt tenebris audent hunc dicere Solem? Quis colat occulte lucem sidusque supernum celet in infernis nisi rerum causa malarum? ³²⁵

By the mid-fifth century, the answer to his rhetorical question regarding those who dare to lock the sun in caves to adore it would have deeply disturbed the Christian poet. Indeed, the iconography and architecture of the Naples and Ravenna baptisteries testify to the designers’ intention to produce the same kind of ritual mise-en-scène that the poet attacked, and which was present in rituals associated with the cults of Isis, Mithras, and Neoplatonic theurgy. Like contemporary rabbis, Neon of Ravenna used the appeal of the sun to promote his own cosmic structure.³²⁶ Based on Paul’s account of a tripartite heaven, the setting reproduced the levels represented each by a Christian category. The vertical dynamic of the scene enhanced the visionary dimension of the sacrament, providing the setting for a symbolic ascension. Placed in a sequence that went from material to immaterial, from the tridimensionality of the people on the ground floor, to the intermediary status of the prophets rendered in bas-relief, to the lightness of the apostles made out of glass mosaic and, eventually, to the image of Christ as pure light, the setting in the Baptistery reproduced the structure of heaven. Corporeality and brightness indicated each character’s level of sanctity. The manner in which the textures and the light effects were used integrated the ritual with the space. The focal point of the setting, the font, functioned as a stage for the baptisand. Surrounded by tridimensional beings, he stood out of place as his or her corporality was spiritualised through the interplay between chrism, water, and light. The luminous presence appeared as a theophanic manifestation. Due to the spatial relation and reflective qualities of the font’s water, which created a mirror effect, his or her luminous body appeared as the incarnation of the image of Christ above. Thus, the “paradoxical fusion” of human and divine, enabled by the ritual, was enacted.  Ps.-Paulinus (ca. ) Carm. . –  (ed. and trans. Coke and Harries : ) “What of the fact that they hide the Unconquered One in a rocky cave and dare to call the one they keep in darkness the Sun? Who adores light in secret or hides the star of the sky in the shadows beneath the earth except for evil purposes?” See also Firmicus Maternus Carmen contra paganos  speaking of those who seek the sun beneath the earth.  As pointed out by Janes : , “The ritual stage is a place for making a view of the world clear, though that view may be a fiction.”

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The setting reproduced a number of effects specific to visionary experiences. Drawing on both cultural anthropology and cognitive neuroscience, scholars noted the recurrence of certain elements in the visionary traditions of various societies. In a recent synthesis, John J. Pilch argued that in such instances “One also sees light and bright colors that flicker, pulsate, or blend. These experiences reflect the neurological events taking place with the person’s body, especially the brain. In stage two, the visionary seeks to impose meaning on these patterns and light. Visionaries in hunter-gatherer cultures may see animals. Other visionaries impose personal, religious, emotional, or other significance. Bright light (white) in the biblical tradition is associated with God and the realm of God. Yahweh’s glory is always described as bright light (Is. 60.1; 62.1; Lk. 2.9; etc.) Finally, stage three is the deepest part of the trance. Often the visionary travels through a tunnel, a vortex, a narrow passage way, a vagina, or something similar, and arrives in a place of light, even subdued light. Sometimes this world seems bizarre (e. g. Dan 7). And it is in this stage that journeys or metamorphoses can occur. When the vision is ended, the visionary gives these usual experiences a ‘rational’ interpretation.”³²⁷ The designers of Late Antique Christian baptism which, as we have seen, reproduced most of these elements, must have drawn on previous experiences in order to construct a setting that presented one with the right stimuli. The scene in the Orthodox Baptistery, when analysed in relation to the particularities of the ritual, appears as the enactment of a coherent concept, being meant to produce a vision that catalysed transformation. For fifth-century Ravenna, the sermons of Peter Chrysologus ascertained a conformation of the regular believer similar to that decried by Paulinus of Nola, who recognised the “carnal disposition”³²⁸ of those frequenting St. Felix’ sanctuary. Paulinus’ and Neon’s decorative programs derived from the need to “beguile the hunger”³²⁹ of the audience’s physical senses. The orchestration of baptism as a theophanic performance, process attested beginning with the third century CE, received its ultimate expression in the fifth century in monumental baptisteries where the Divine Light was materialised at the intersection of architecture, decoration, iconography, lighting, and ritual. If read as physical enactment of Chrysologus’ baptismal theology, and related to the common assimilation of Christ with the sun and of the apostles with His rays, Neon’s program testifies to the coherent manner in

 Pilch : .  Peter Chrysologus Serm. . –  and . – , respectively . – . The area is characterised in the next century by the rusticitas that troubled Gregory of Tours cf. Brown :  – . The situation was analysed by Kreider :  – .  Paulinus of Nola Carm. . –  (trans. Walsh : ).

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which teaching and building techniques fleshed out the presence of God as light and through the baptisand. The complexity of the scene differed from baptistery to baptistery, as visible from the comparison between the programs in Ravenna and Naples. The nocturnal sun that introduced the materialised image of Christ testified to the ritual’s capacity to transform. The solar dimension of baptismal iconography indicates that the similarity between baptism and other initiations was not accidental but intentional. As testified by John Chrysostom’s presentation of baptism as a staged death and resurrection, the Church strove to place its initiation in relation to similar practices: For when grace has come, and driven away the darkness of the understanding, we learn the exact nature of things, and what was before dreadful to us becomes contemptible. For we no longer fear death, after learning exactly, from this sacred initiation, that death is not death, but a sleep and a seasonable slumber;³³⁰

The orchestration of baptism as a vision of a nocturnal sun leading to vision, transformation, and momentary return to Eden, built a visual stage on which the bishops’ cosmological views were displayed. The visionary appeal of the sun, the renown of the idea that immortality was attained through one’s ascension above the ring of the zodiac, and a physical iconicity that placed one at the centre of the community were offered in Christianised form. On the night of Easter, the initiate rose from the font reflecting the nocturnal sun’s light and embodying Christ as his or her wet and anointed body shone due to the lights. Consistent with the practice of dromena and Late Antique initiatory rituals, the baptisand interpreted his or her God in a dramatic re-enactment of His myth. Transformed into Christs by the vision, washing, and anointing, the bodies of the baptisands became living icons of their God: Εἰς Χριστὸν βεϐαπτισμένοι καὶ Χριστὸν ἐνδυσάμενοι, σύμμορφοι γεγόνατε τοῦ Υἱοῦ τοῦ Θεοῦ. Προορίσας γὰρ ἡμᾶς ὁ Θεὸς εἰς υἱοθεσίαν, συμμόρφους ἐποίησε τοῦ σώματος τῆς δόξης τοῦ Χριστοῦ. Μέτοχοι οὖν τοῦ Χριστοῦ γενόμενοι, χριστοὶ εἰκότως καλεῖσθε· καὶ περὶ ὑμῶν ἔλεγεν ὁ Θεός· ‘Μὴ ἄπτεσθε τῶν χριστῶν μου.’ Χριστοὶ δὲ γεγόνατε, τοῦ ἁγίου Πνεύματος τὸ ἀντίτυπον δεξάμενοι· καὶ πάντα εἰκονικῶς ἐφ’ ὑμῶν γεγένηται, ἐπειδὴ εἰκόνες ἐστὲ Χριστοῦ.³³¹

 John Chrysostom Bapt. Instr. . (ed. PG .B, trans. NPNF .).  Cyril of Jerusalem Myst. Cat. . (ed. PG .A-A, trans. NPNF .) “Having been baptized into Christ, and put on Christ, you have been made conformable to the Son of God; for God having foreordained us unto adoption as sons, made us to be conformed to the body of Christ’s glory. Having therefore become partakers of Christ, you are properly called Christs, and of you God said, ‘Touch not My Christs’, or anointed. Now you have been made Christs,

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I.5 The Archbishops’ Chapel in Ravenna The capella arcivescovile from Ravenna represents a puzzling case.³³² Despite being the only surviving private chapel from Late Antiquity, it has received only a moderate amount of scholarly attention, perhaps due to its main purpose remaining unclear.³³³ The inscription in its narthex testifies to the Late Antique practice of praising lavishly decorated interiors for producing their own light. Nevertheless, unlike similar texts, the Ravennate one goes beyond the aesthetic dimension, and evinces a complex theology of the Divine Presence manifested as light, and of the cultic building as its mise-en-scène.³³⁴ The key to understanding the building lies, I argue, in the anthropological dimension of the text, which reveals the baptismal character of the space. The chapel corroborates my analysis of the role and importance of light in Late Antique baptismal theology and practice. Erected during the period in which Ravenna was capital of the Ostrogoth Kingdom ruled by Theodoric (493 – 526), the chapel reflects the relations between the Arian Goths and the local Catholic population. Part of the same episcopal complex that included the Orthodox Baptistery, the chapel complemented the Baptistery and perhaps served as a substitute for it during times when being openly baptised as a Catholic might have been dangerous. If, as in the case of a similar chapel in Rome, the space was designed to be used as a consignatorium—the space where baptisands received the anointing that concluded the ritual and where the sacrament was explained post factum by the bishop—its design would have necessitated both complementing and synthesising the space of the Baptistery.³³⁵ If, on the other hand, the radicalisation of the relations between Arians and Catholics informed its design, the space had to be able to replace the Baptistery. Both scenarios recommend the chapel as part of the baptismal experience in Late Antique Ravenna.

by receiving the antitype of the Holy Ghost; and all things have been wrought in you by imitation, because you are images of Christ.”  The present section was published in a slightly different form in Ivanovici b.  On the chapel, see Deichmann :  – ; Mackie ; Deliyannis ; Miller /, ; Jäggi :  – .  The metaphor is a Late Antique topos, see Libanius Or. .; Corippus In Laud. . – . See Barry :  – .  On the Santa Croce chapel in Rome, see Johnson .

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I.5.1 Ravenna at the Beginning of the Sixth Century Despite the tolerant character of Theodoric’s reign, the Arian and Catholic Churches viewed each other with suspicion. Even before the king’s radical change of heart that marked the last years of his reign, a conflict appears to have lingered in the segregated capital.³³⁶ This state is reflected in the cultic buildings erected during the period, with the iconography of both the Catholic archbishops’ chapel and the Arian baptistery’s having polemic tones.³³⁷ The secluded position and the chapel’s anti-Arian iconography indicate that the building was either a reaction to Theodoric’s change of policy or a reflection of the tension dating from before the arrest of Boethius. Since Bishop Peter II (494– 519/20), to whom the chapel is traditionally ascribed, held office only until 519 or 520—thus only one or two years after the king’s relationship with the Catholics began to deteriorate—the likelihood that the oratory reflects the state of the Church during Theodoric’s reign rather than a reaction to his persecution grows.³³⁸ The bishop’s office overlaps with Theodoric’s rule except for the very last years. Elected the year after Theodoric’s conquest of Ravenna, Peter II seems to have collaborated well with the Ostrogoth king, since his signature appears on official documents released by the court. Nevertheless, the small and isolated chapel is the only cultic building made intra muros during Peter’s twenty-five years in office. A comparison of the construction activity of the Catholic Church before and after Theodoric’s reign, as well as with that of the Arians in the same period, indicates the Church’s position during the Ostrogoth rule. Furthermore, while it appears that the king in general discouraged proselytising in both directions, the building of an Arian baptistery indicates a change of policy since most baptisands in the period

 Synthesised by Deliyannis :  – , the reasons that led Theodoric to a radical change of attitude towards the Catholics are thought to have appeared after Justin I’s ( – ) ascension to the imperial throne. To the reasons Deliyannis enumerates, I would add the pressure caused by the Franks’ conversion to Catholicism in .  On the anti-Arian character of the decoration of the chapel and the Arian elements in the baptistery’s iconography, see Deliyannis :  and  – . On the tension between the Arians and the Catholics in Theodoric’s Ravenna, see Pietri : ; Cassiodorus Variae . – ; Boethius Cons. Phil. ...  Agnellus, our main source on Ravenna in Late Antiquity, confused Peter Chrysologus with Peter II so the information he provides on the activity of the latter is not entirely reliable. Apart from the monasterium, a medieval term denoting private chapels cf. Mackie : , Peter II is said to have built a baptistery in Classe and a house (collum) next to the monasterium cf. Agnellus L.P.R. . –  (ed. Deliyannis : ).

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were adults. The chapel’s iconography, position, and baptismal dimension reveal a reaction of the Church to the court’s anti-Catholic attitude.³³⁹

I.5.2 The Chapel and the Orthodox Baptistery The chapel is the last part of a three-level structure Bishop Peter II annexed to the episcopium. Following this addition, the complex comprised the cathedral, the baptistery, the episcopal residence inside which Neon had decorated a series of spaces, and the new annex. Affected by successive modifications, the oratory was restored to its original shape in the early 20th century. While most of the original decoration survived in a sufficiently good state to allow its reconstruction, the original iconography of the apse and the chapel’s lunettes remains unknown. Along with this loss, the closing of the door that allowed access to the narthex through the adjacent tower appears to be the main factor that affected the perception of the chapel as intended by its builders. The inscription running

Fig. 24. Ground plan of the sixth-century Archbishops’ Chapel in Ravenna. After Deichmann 1969: pl. 12, modified. The original entrance is shown in grey.

along the walls of the narthex, quoted in extenso by Agnellus, is instrumental in understanding the building’s purpose, as it reveals the baptismal perspective in which the architecture and decoration should be approached. As mentioned, the original space was accessible also through a tower. The door, now walled, opened into a rectangular narthex. The small vestibule was covered with a barrel vault ceiling decorated with a mosaic showing birds and

 Brown .

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a net of geometric motifs on a golden background. A door and a window opened on the short sides, with an image of Christ as warrior treading the lion and snake, holding a large cross on His shoulder and an open book reading Ego sum uia ueritas et uita above the door. The window on the opposite side was top-

Fig. 25. Mosaic decoration on the walls and ceiling of the narthex of the sixth-century Archbishops’ Chapel in Ravenna. Photo from Opera di Religione della Diocesi di Ravenna.

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ped by a scene showing a clipeus containing a monogram. The clipeus and the two white doves flanking it were caught in a floral motif on a dark blue background. The long sides, with doors at the centre, one leading to the tower and the other to the chapel, had on their upper parts rectangular cassettes with golden writing on dark blue background. Although separated, the texts were part of a single, continuous epigram. The chapel itself was cruciform, with the main axis opposing the door and a small apse. A bifora, the only window in the chapel, opened on the right, into the shorter side of the space. The central space was covered by a vault, while the lateral lunettes were not deep enough to require more than narrow arches. The apse, reconstructed after it was destroyed to make room for a door, has now a semi-dome that is lower than the level of the central space. The original decoration was marble and mosaic. Grey slabs of Proconnesian covered the walls to the point where the arches sprung, and mosaics covered the arches and vault. For the first time in Ravenna, golden mosaic appeared extensively instead of selectively, with the background being rendered in gold. The two arches on the main axis each showed portraits of Christ flanked by six apostles.

Fig. 26. Mosaic decoration of the ceiling of the sixth-century Archbishops’ Chapel in Ravenna. Photo by S. Suozzo.

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Almost identical, the two portraits differed in the type of halo, with the one on the arch of the apse being radiant. Portraits also decorated the arches of the lunettes. Having at the centre clipea with the chi-rho, the two arches showed a selection of female and male saints. As one looked from the door towards the apse, the right side was reserved for the male figures, and the left for female ones. All martyrs, the characters depicted referred to an anti-Arian agenda.³⁴⁰ The vault showed four angels supporting a central clipeus. Inside the latter, which created an oculus effect through the contrast between the gold surrounding it and the blue at the centre, a golden chi-rho appeared. Intercalating the four angels, the four viventes of the evangelists holding gospels were shown on apocalyptic blue-red clouds. One element that Christian baptism shared with other initiatory experiences was the care for the clear delimitation of brethren and uninitiated. Indeed, in Late Antiquity, baptism effectively imposed the separation, transition, and inclusion stages identified by Arnold Van Gennep as the classical steps of initiation rituals.³⁴¹ This ritual structure reflected in the plan of cultic buildings which had to allow for the setting of spatial thresholds.³⁴² The disciplina arcani imposed the setting of epistemic, visual, and spatial thresholds that were sequentially overcome during the ritual. Most visible in Cyril of Jerusalem’s catecheses, the process through which the spaces adjacent to the baptistery enhanced the catechumens’ expectations is discernible also in Ravenna. With Neon’s restoration of the Baptistery, the possibility of creating a succession of visions inside the structure disappeared since, as noted by Kostof, the interior functioned now as a ciborium and offered a momentary vision. The preparation, both physical and psychological, would have taken place in another, nearby space. The catechumeneum, the space where the pre-baptismal sermons were delivered, as well as the consignatorium where the final unction was given after baptism, should have been close. Given the proximity of the cathedral and the episcopium,

 See above.  On liminal spaces and their use in ritual in relation to Van Gennep’s theories, see Turner  and : .  The technique is known from various initiatory rituals and its use is evident in the case of the chapel, where the succession of spaces assured the correct apprehension of the final scene. The process is best discernible in Cyril of Jerusalem’s use of the narthex in relation to the baptistery in Procat. .. According to Riley : : “Cyril had also used this dramatic interpretation of the physical locale, when, by noting that the renunciation took place in the vestibule of the baptistery he indicated his awareness of the physical locale and progression of the ceremony as a frame of interpretation by dramatic progression up to the baptismal act itself.” On the programming of the emotional response to cultic settings in Late Antique Christianity, see Hahn .

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it is correct to expect that the two actions took place either in the church or in one of the spaces in the episcopal residence. The situation in the Lateran complex in Rome is indicative. The bishops of Ravenna had always paid close attention to the cultic structures in Rome, with the Neonian restoration being made to mirror that of the Lateran Baptistery. It is justified to connect the building of a cruciform chapel next to the Baptistery in Ravenna to the presence of a similar one in Rome, especially since the two had also similar iconographies.

I.5.2.1 The Architecture In the Ravennate chapel, the spatial succession required by the ritual is evident in the relationship between the tower, the narthex, and the chapel proper. The contrast between the simple, unprepossessing exterior of the Baptistery, and the interior, where the image of heaven was fleshed out through decoration, illumination, and ritual, was, in the case of the chapel, enacted through its seclusion and the contrast between the staircase of the tower and the golden mosaic of the narthex. The effect symbolised one’s passing from the darkness of sin to the light of life. A similar spatial distribution is present in the fourth-century villa from Frampton where a long, narrow corridor precedes a narthex and a small room with an apse. As in Ravenna, the corridor assured the impact of the narthex while, in turn, the narthex prepared one for the main room. Dominic Perring pertinently argued for the initiatory, perhaps baptismal character of the ritual enacted in the space.³⁴³ The spatial configuration in Ravenna is similar also to that found in Jerusalem. Part of the complex of the Anastasis was a baptistery. The rectangular space with an apse in which the font was placed was accessible through a narrow, longitudinal narthex. The spatial relation in the Ravennate episcopium thus is consistent with that in certain baptisteries, which corroborates my reading of the structure in a baptismal key. The cruciform floor plan supports the thesis since many baptisteries had such a form.³⁴⁴ The cruciform space suited the Christic and martyrical dimensions of the ritual, as it synthesised the catechumens’ death and resurrection with Christ through baptism. The narthex provided the right setting for the moment of the apotaxis and suntaxis, the ritual turning towards the west and then east that preceded

 Perring .  Ristow , map  shows the presence of cruciform baptisteries and map  indicates the cruciform fonts. The latter were very popular in Dalmatia, just across the Adriatic Sea from Ravenna.

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baptism.³⁴⁵ As one entered the antechamber through the tower, he had the window on the right and the image of the devil on the left. As in the Orthodox Baptistery, geographic east was replaced with a symbolic “east”, represented by the window.³⁴⁶ The exiting of the structure through a door opposing that of the entrance, a key element of baptismal architecture, was assured in the chapel by the door leading from the narthex to the inside of the episcopium. The placement above the door of the image of Christ the warrior holding the gospel open at Jn. 14.6 reminded neophytes of their entrance into the “spiritual arena”, a motif that drew on the assimilation of baptism with martyrdom. The scene reproduced the invitation of Ambrose expressed in De Sacr. 1.2.4, quoted above. The space synthetically replicated the essential points of the baptismal sacrament, allowing the bishop to explain to the neophytes the experience they had gone through without having to reopen the Baptistery and thus compromise the potent effect that secrecy invested in the act. Designed as such, the chapel could have also been used to replace the Baptistery in times of persecution. In the latter scenario, the absence of a font could have been circumvented with a mobile font like the fifth-century lead ones from Britain or even by a monolithic one.³⁴⁷

I.5.2.2 The Inscription Given that the dedication of the chapel to St. Andrew seems to have been made later in the history of the structure,³⁴⁸ the iconography and the rhetoric of the materials need to be analysed in relation to the context represented by sixth-century Ravenna, the episcopium, and the inscription in the narthex. Following the natural progression of the space, I begin with the analysis of the narthex where, I argue, the inscription was meant to function as an interpretative trigger, with its text indicating to the catechumens/neophytes what to expect in the chapel. The presentation of baptism as a light theophany and the production of a vision through a decorative program are present in the chapel, where a chi-rho appears at the summit of a stylised depiction of the cosmic structure. The inscription in the narthex applies to this knot of motifs, as it hints to the audience the nature of the ex-

 E. g. Cyril of Jerusalem Myst. Cat. . and ..  In the Orthodox Baptistery the doors were placed on the cardinal directions, resulting in the placement of the main apse on the SE and the image of the devil on the opposite side.  See the lead fonts from Icklingham, Suffolk, now in the British Museum. See Ristow , plates ,  and , for monolithic fonts.  Mackie : .

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perience they were about to undergo. The text marks the threshold between earth and heaven, and prepares one for the sight of the Divine Light: Aut lux hic nata est, aut capta hic libera regnat; Lex est, ante uenit caeli decus unde modernum. Aut priuata diem pepererunt tecta nitentem, Inclusumque iubar secluso fulget Olympo. Marmora cum radiis uernantur, cerne, serenis Cunctaque sidereo percussa in mirice saxa Auctoris pretio splendescunt munera Petri. Huic honor, huic meritum tribuit, sic comere parua, Vt ualeant spatiis amplum superare coactis. Nil modicum Christo est; artas bene possidet aedes, Cuius in humano consistunt pectore templa. Fundamen Petrus, Petrus fundator, et aula Quod domus, hoc hominus, quod factum, factor et idem, Moribus atque opera. Christus possessor habetur, Qui duo sonsocians mediator reddit et unum. Huc ueniens fundat parituros gaudia laetus, Contritam solidans percusso in pectore mentem. Ne iaceat, se sternat humo morbosque latentes Ante pedes medici, cura properante, recludat. Saepe metus mortis uitae fit causa beatae. ³⁴⁹

As shown by Giselle de Nie, in sixth-century Gaul, bishops consciously altered the perception of ritual settings through their association with Old and New Testament episodes presented as patterns.³⁵⁰ The process developed even earlier. A fourth-century pilgrim from Bordeaux saw only the physical remains of the In-

 Agnellus L.P.R.  –  (ed. Deliyannis :  – , trans. Deliyannis : ). “Either light was born here, or captured here it reigns free; it is the law, from which source the current glory of heaven excels. Or the deprived roofs have produced gleaming day, and the enclosed radiance gleams forth as if from secluded Olympus. See, the marble flourishes with bright rays, and all the stones struck in starry purple shine in value, the gifts of the founder Peter. To him honor and merit are granted, thus to beautify small things, so that although confined in space, they surpass the large. Nothing is small to Christ; He well occupies confining buildings, whose temples exist within the human heart. A Peter is the foundation; and a Peter the founder of this hall. The master is the same as the house; what is made is the same as the maker, in morals and in work. Christ is the owner, who as mediator uniting the two renders them as one. Let one coming here joyously pour out the tears which will produce joy, making firm a contrite mind in his beaten breast. Let him not lie sick, but prostrate himself on the ground and reveal his hidden illness before the feet of the doctor, since the cure is approaching. Often the fear of death becomes the cause of a blessed life.”  de Nie :  talked of a “strategy of imagination.”

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carnation in his visit to the Holy Land. A few decades later, with the help of a simple ritual composed of the reading of a related scriptural fragment and singing, Egeria saw not only Golgotha, but also the cross and Christ crucified on it.³⁵¹ It was precisely on such a “strategy of imagination” that the catechetical process relied; Cyril of Jerusalem declared that his pre-baptismal catecheses were meant to create a prism for apprehending the world in Christian key.³⁵² Upon entering the narthex and reading or hearing the epigram being read, one’s imagination prepared him or her for the apprehension of the subsequent scene and he came to expect a space that reproduced the contemporary image of heaven. The mental image was then overlapped with the actual image, with the person adapting its elements to the expectation and viceversa. The text begins with a praise of the decoration as a typical appreciation of a Late Antique cultic building as being luminous “suis radiis et sine sole.”³⁵³ After mentioning the patron of the oratory, the first part ends with an anthropological motif, the postulation of the human heart as a temple of Christ. This aspect testifies that Peter II belonged to the theological tradition of his predecessors, Peter Chrysologus and Neon.³⁵⁴ The second part of the inscription further develops an anthropological discourse suited for baptism. The relation between the two Peters, the apostle and the bishop, testifies to the coordination of the chapel’s iconography with the rest of the episcopium where, in the triclinium built by Neon, the apostle’s story was depicted on one of the walls, along with an inscription that praised him as embodying the Church. If the episcopium spaces were designed to complement each other, further baptismal elements can be drawn from the manner in which the scene depicted in Neon’s triclinium could have completed the neophytes’ ritual experience. If the neophytes were led out through the door above which the image of Christ the warrior appears, thus through the episcopal residence, they could have been taken to see the mosaics embellishing the dining hall. Showing the creation of the world and the story of the apostle Peter, these were accompanied by texts evincing Neon’s appropriation of Chrysologus’ postulation of the perfect Christian as a luminous image of God: Vnus in orbe nouo uir, terra uirgine factus Exiliuit homo, insons hic corpore, senso.

 Itin. Burd. . – . and Itin. Eger. . – .  Cyril of Jerusalem Procat. .  Venantius Fortunatus Carm. .. – .  On Chrysologus’ Christian as a luminous Image of God and temple of His presence, see e. g. his Serm. .

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Iste Dei meruit uocitari solus imago, Namque sui similem hominem produxit in orbem Supremi genitoris amor, dominumque locauit. […] Omnia namque Deus homini, quaecumque parauit,³⁵⁵

The text suits the baptismal discourse, in which the capacity to regain the Image, and with it control over nature and creation, was central. Returning to the inscription in the narthex, the text continues with the association of the master with the house, and of the maker with what is made. In light of the transformational effect attributed to baptism, the analogy refers to the recasting of the baptisand after the likeness of Christ, an idea further supported by the praising of Christ as the one who “made the two one”. Drawing on Paul’s Eph. 2.14, “For he is our peace, who had made both one, and breaking down the middle wall of partition, the enmities in his flesh”, a fragment that received a great deal of attention in the sermons of Peter Chrysologus, who developed it in baptismal context, the idea referenced the “paradoxical fusion” taking place in the initiation.³⁵⁶ The last part of the inscription deals with the optimum state for those approaching the chapel, an element on which bishops insisted in catecheses. The coming to the baptistery with fear and awe, feelings induced by the promise to see God directly, combined with the stressing of the catechumen’s unworthiness of the sight and potentially dangerous effect of the experience, are recurrent in pre-baptismal catecheses. The “sickness” and the “doctor” mentioned in the text indicate the sinful state and the bishop, respectively.³⁵⁷ The fear of death can also be read in baptismal key since, as evinced by Gordon P. Jeans, it was the imminence of death that led most Late Antique persons to be baptised. Given that sinning was not allowed after baptism, and that the sacrament granted one direct access to heaven, most chose to do it on their deathbed.³⁵⁸

 Agnellus L.P.R. . –  (ed. Deliyannis : , trans. Deliyannis :  – ) “One man in the new world, made from virgin earth, leapt up from the soil, innocent in sense and in body. He alone deserved to be called the image of God, for the love of the supreme Progenitor produced man as his likeness in the world and made him its master. […] For God gave all things to man.”  See the meaning of commercium in Chrysologus in Benericetti . On other aspects of the analogy bishop-structure, see below.  The bishop and the clergy who supervised baptism are called doctores in Rufinus (ca.  – ) Apol. Contra Hier. . and the Apostolic Tradition  and .  Jeanes .

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I.5.2.3 The Iconography As in the Orthodox Baptistery, the space inside the chapel was intended to be perceived as revelatory. Due to the lost iconography of the apse, the complete program escapes our reach. However, in light of the coherence of the Christic and visionary dimension in the extant decoration, it seems unlikely that the missing part would have changed the overall meaning. The central space is flanked on all four sides by the portraits and chi-rhos of Christ, depicted at the centre of the arches. Standing in the middle of the room, under the vault where a chi-rho was depicted against the blue sky of a false oculus, the baptisand’s Christic character was stressed. Materialised on the blue background, the central chi-rho links the setting to the scenes found in the baptisteries in Naples and Ravenna. A solar symbol, the chi-rho inscribed in a circle applies to the same knot of motifs related to the sun’s capacity to stimulate one’s ascension.³⁵⁹ Standing on green patches, four caryatid-like angels support the oculus through which the chi-rho appears at the top of the vault. Connecting earth and sky, the angels represent the cosmic structure, standing for the earth’s corners/cardinal points.³⁶⁰ The angels replace the powers that traditionally governed the world and attest to the same desire to Christianise the mundus that we have identified in the Baptistery. The presence of the uiuentes between the angels stresses the visionary dimension of the space as the tetramorph was a common apocalyptic motif. The design of the vault reproduced the cosmic structure with its visionary potential, and the oculus at the apex symbolised the ritual’s capacity to open the skies for believers.³⁶¹ Standing under the vault, the neophyte would have perceived himself at the centre of an axis mundi, just as in the Orthodox Baptistery.

I.5.2.4 The Light Light was the central element in the mise-en-scène, as it made cohere the elements present in the space. Whether nocturnal or diurnal, a visit to the chapel was an essentially luminous experience as indicated by the text in the narthex. Caught and reflected by the polished marble revetment and the polychrome mosaic, the light coming from the windows and the lighting devices reproduced heaven. It appears that the designers attempted to compensate for the reduced scale of the space by enhancing single effects. The contrast between the spaces, the impact  Wallraff :  – .  The cosmic dimension of the scene is clearer in the presbytery of the church of San Vitale where the four angels holding the oculus stand on the sun. (see Fig. )  Maximus of Turin Serm. ., quoted above.

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of the thresholds, and the luminosity of the final scene were augmented in order to stress the visionary dimension of the ritual. As in the baptisteries in Ravenna and Naples, the golden tesserae seem to draw their light from the solar symbol at the apex. Along with the vault, the apse appeared as an area from which light emanated, as testified by the discovery of silver tesserae pertaining to the lost decoration; the superior reflectivity of silver was known to Late Antique builders.³⁶² Furthermore, the radiating halo of the Christ depicted on the apse arch indicate the area’s particular relationship with light. The architecture, the decoration, the iconography, and the luminosity of the chapel are consistent with those of baptisteries. Showing the created world illuminated from above by Christ or His solar symbol, the space of the chapel both complemented and reproduced the scene in the Baptistery.

I.5.3 Conclusion In the Baptistery and the chapel, the ritual light worked as both presence and symbol, as it rendered the spaces an “aliud caelum”³⁶³ and led the believer “from the abundant light in the sanctuaries to the intelligible and immaterial light.”³⁶⁴ The setting and the believer’s response to it were carefully staged to create the impression that the scene emanated from a centrally placed, divine light. The space thus appeared as a manifestation of the Divine Presence. Combining well-known visionary motifs with common Late Antique cosmic elements, the Baptistery and the cappella produced luminous theophanies, materialised against the blue sky and reflected on the body of the baptisand. There need not be a filiative relation between Christian baptism and the practices of other Late Antique cults as proposed by Franz Cumont.³⁶⁵ Rather, Late Antique cults combined motifs that were known to be related to the idea of initiation/salvation with a contemporary anthropological ideal. An enlightening model of the process is provided by the case of Alexander of Abonoteichus (ca. 105 – 70) who is said to have invented the cult of Glycon, a serpent god. Lucian of Samosata’s account testifies that the false prophet introduced a practice that synthesised the essence of contemporary ritual experience and expectations. We thus hear of the cult culminating in a nocturnal ceremony during which the moon goddess, Selene, impersonated by Alexander’s lover, descended    

See Pliny the Elder Nat. Hist. .. on silver shining more than gold. Corippus In Laud. . –  (ed. Cameron : ), on the palace of Justin II ( – ). Hypatius of Ephesus ( – ) Ep. to Julian of Atramytium (trans. Alexander : ). On the thesis and its reception, see Bremmer .

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from the roof, perhaps through an oculus, to kiss Alexander. Later in the ritual, the prophet “accidentally” exposed one of his thighs to reveal that he had become, perhaps through the previous theophany of Selene, a golden being.³⁶⁶ Combining the architecture of the Anastasis with techniques and motifs taken from ancient mysteria, catacomb ceiling decoration and elements particular to Late Antique cosmology and anthropology, Christian bishops designed baptism the same way Alexander of Abonoteichus had. In light of my analysis of the ritual, imagery, and architecture of baptism, texts such as those of Cyril of Jerusalem, John Chrysostom, or Basil of Caesarea that so far have been held to be symbolic, appear as descriptions of ritual experiences or, rather, texts meant to manipulate the perception of the experience as a life-altering theophany. The reconstruction of the lighting and the recognition of the relationship between the scenes and the audience allow the gap between text and structure to be filled: Καὶ ὥσπερ ἐν σκότει πρότερόν τις ὢν, εἶτα ἑξαἱφνης ἤλιον ὶδὼν, φωτίζεται τοῦ σώματος τὸ βλέμμα, καὶ βλέτει, ἂ μὴ ἔϐλεπε, φανερῶς· οὒτω καὶ ὁ τοῦ ἀγἱου Πνεύματος καταξιωθεὶς, φωτίζεται τὴν ψυχὴν, καὶ ὑπὲρ ἄνθρωπον βλέπει ἂ μὴ ᾕδει. Ἐπὶ γῆς τὸ σῶμα, καὶ ἡ ψυχὴ κατοπτρίζεται τοὺς οὐρανούς. Βλέπει, ὡς Ἡσαἲας, ‘τὸν Κὺριον καθήμενον ἐπὶ θρόνου ὑψηλοῦ καὶ ἐπηρμένου·’ καὶ βλέπει, ὡς Ἱεζεκιὴλ, ‘τὸν ἑᴨὶ τῶν χερουϐίμ·’ βλέπει, ὡς Δανιὴλ, ‘μυριἁδας μυριἁδων καὶ χιλιἁδας χιλιἁδων·’ καὶ ὁ μικρὸς ἄνθρωπος ἀρχὴν κόσμου βλέπει, καὶ τέλος κόσμου, καὶ μεσότητα χρόνων, καὶ βασιλέων διαδοχὰς οἶδεν· ἂ μὴ ἔμαθε· πἁρεστι γὰρ ὁ ἀληθινὸς φωταγωγός. Ἔσω τοίχων ὁ ἄνθρωπος, καὶ ἡ δύναμις, τῆς γνώσεως ἐκπἑμπεται μακρὰν, καὶ βλέπει καὶ τὰ ὑπὸ ἅλλων γινόμενα.³⁶⁷ Καθαρθέντα δὴ οὖν ἀπὸ τοῦ αἴσχους, ὃ ἀνεμάξατο διὰ τῆς κακίας͵ καὶ πρὸς τὸ ἐκ φύσεως κάλλος ἐπανελθόντα καὶ οἷον εἰκόνι βασιλικῇ τὴν ἀρχαίαν μορφὴν διὰ καθαρότητος ἀποδόντα, οὕτως ἐστὶ μόνως προσεγγίσαι τῷ Παρακλήτῳ. Ὁ δ’, ὥσπερ ἥλιος͵ κεκαθαρμένον ὄμμα παραλαϐών, δείξει σοι ἐν ἑαυτῷ τὴν εἰκόνα τοῦ ἀοράτου. Ἐν δὲ τῷ μακαρίῳ τῆς εἰκόνος θεάματι τὸ ἄῤῥητον ὄψει τοῦ ἀρχετύπου κάλλος. Διὰ τούτου͵ καρδιῶν ἀνάϐασις͵ χειραγωγία τῶν ἀσθενούντων, τῶν προκοπτόντων τελείωσις. Τοῦτο, τοῖς ἀπὸ πάσης κηλίδος κεκαθαρμένοις ἐλλάμπον͵ τῇ πρὸς ἑαυτὸ κοινωνίᾳ πνευματικοὺς ἀποδείκνυσι. Καὶ ὥσπερ τὰ

 See Lucian of Samosata Alex.  –  (ed. and trans. Harmon [] :  – ).  Cyril of Jerusalem Cat. Bapt. . (ed. PG .AB, trans. Hellemo : ) “As a man previously in darkness and suddenly seeing the sun gets the faculty of sight and sees clearly what he did not see before, so the man deemed worthy of the Holy Spirit is enlightened in the soul, and sees beyond human sight (heaven) what he did not know. Though his body is upon the earth his soul beholds the heavens as in a mirror. He sees, like Isaiah, ‘the Lord seated on a high and lofty throne,’ he sees like Ezekiel, ‘Him who is above the cherubim;’ he sees, like Daniel, ‘thousands upon thousands and myriads upon myriads;’ and little man sees the beginning and the end of the world, the times in between, the succession of kings; in short, things he had not learned, for the True Enlightener is at hand. The man is confined within walls, yet his power of knowledge ranges fire and wide, and he perceives even the actions of others.”

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λαμπρὰ καὶ διαφανῆ τῶν σωμάτων͵ ἀκτῖνος αὐτοῖς ἐμπεσούσης͵ αὐτά τε γίνεται περιλαμπῆ, καὶ ἑτέραν αὐγὴν ἀφ΄ ἑαυτῶν ἀποστίλϐει· οὕτως αἱ πνευματοφόροι ψυχαὶ, ἐλλαμφθεῖσαι παρὰ τοῦ Πνεύματος͵ αὐταί τε ἀποτελοῦνται πνευματικαὶ, καὶ εἰς ἑτέρους τὴν χάριν ἐξαποστέλλουσιν.³⁶⁸

The two fragments synthesise the themes discussed in the section. The visionary dimension of the setting, the parallel with non-Christian practices, and the relation between the ritual purification and the possibility of seeing the deity as a solar figure are succinctly addressed, with the bishops describing an experience similar to the one an initiate had in the Orthodox Baptistery. The ritual made one regain the Divine Image and, with it, a holy luminosity. Analysis of the Orthodox Baptistery and the nearby chapel has shown, I hope convincingly, that such statements need to be seen as reflecting both the character of the teachings that preceded the ritual, which were a combination of Christian tenets and common Late Antique visionary motifs, and the ritual in which the vision and transformation were enacted.³⁶⁹

 Basil of Caesarea De Spiritu Sancto . (ed. PG .BC, trans. NPNF .) “Only then after a man is purified from the shame whose stain he took through his wickedness, and has come back again to his natural beauty, and as it were cleaning the Royal Image and restoring its ancient form, only thus is it possible for him to draw near to the Paraclete. And He, like the sun, will by the aid of thy purified eye show thee in Himself the image of the invisible, and in the blessed spectacle of the image thou shalt behold the unspeakable beauty of the archetype. Through His aid hearts are lifted up, the weak are held by the hand, and they who are advancing are brought to perfection. Shining upon those that are cleansed from every spot, He makes them spiritual by fellowship with Himself. Just as when a sunbeam falls on bright and transparent bodies, they themselves become brilliant too, and shed forth a fresh brightness from themselves, so souls wherein the Spirit dwells, illuminated by the Spirit, themselves become spiritual, and send forth their grace to others.”  My analysis of baptism as a combination of Christian and non-Christian motifs making up a theophanic experience points to Christianity being a mystery cult, as it respects both the definition of Turcan :  – , who argued that central to the latter was that the presence of particular divinities was fleshed out the centre of shocking, awe-inspiring rituals, and that of Bowden , who defined them as religions that gave a particularly important role to the initiation.

In no liturgical tradition is liturgical space such an integral part of the liturgy as in the Byzantine.³⁷⁰ In the Byzantine liturgy, nothing is left as an abstract idea. All truth is incarnate, made flesh. There is no idea without a concrete, visible, audible, tangible expression. And conversely, all the objects of the senses are filled with meaning, that is, with light.³⁷¹

 Taft /: .  Perl : .

II Light in the Context of the Eucharistic Liturgy Ps.-Dionysius the Areopagite Writing in the third decade of the sixth century, Ps.-Dionysius testified to the Christian adoption of the Neoplatonic concept of cosmic emanation that rendered every ontological level a “spotless mirror”.³⁷² The belief that each level of being reproduced the features of God κατ’ ἀξίαν rendered matter iconic.³⁷³ In this positive context rituals and their settings came to be credited with the capacity to convey real theophanies. At each level, God’s goodness pervaded matter, but it was in the light present in the cultic space, and especially in that embodied by the clerical hierarchy, that His Image was visible on earth. Dionysius postulated the existence of a double theophanic level, one reserved to mystagogues such as himself that practiced contemplation and got to know God in the luminous darkness of the highest heaven, and another represented by the sacraments and suited to those who, “lacking in reason have a limitless appetite for the material, a thrust originating in that chronic urge to dwell with the ephemeral, that living, mastering longing to remain with whatever is applauded by the senses.”³⁷⁴ Dionysius thus corroborates my contention that the ritual stages were built to meet the limitations and expectations of their audience. The spaces inside San Vitale in Ravenna and the basilica Eufrasiana in Poreč reflect the very concepts Dionysius articulated, as they synthesised the iconic capacity of matter by reproducing the structure of heaven as imagined during the period. I believe the relationship between the Pseudo-Areopagitic corpus and these spaces is indirect. Both writings and buildings show the dependence of Christian theology and visual vocabulary on the idiom of power shared by Late Antique society writ large. The two sources are complementary, with Dionysius’ writings explicitly expressing what is implicit in the built structures. Of cap-

 Ps.-Dionysius the Areopagite (henceforth Dionysius) Cael. Hier. . (ed. PG .C-A, trans. Luibheid and Rorem : ). The concept is best synthesised by Macrobius Comm. in Somn. Scip. .. (trans. Stahl [] : ) “Accordingly, since Mind emanates from the Supreme God and Soul from Mind, and Mind, indeed, forms and suffuses all below with life, and since this splendor lighting up everything and visible in all, like a countenance reflected in many mirrors arranged in a row, and since all follow on in continuous succession, degenerating step by step in their downward course, the close observer will find that from the Supreme God even to the bottommost dregs of the universe there is one tie, binding at every link and never broken.”  Dionysius Div. Nom. ., . (ed. PG .D-D, A), Cael. Hier. ., . (ed. PG .B, C).  Dionysius Cael. Hier. . (ed. PG .D-A, trans. Luibheid and Rorem : ).

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ital importance for this study is Dionysius’ awareness of the staged character of these rituals. The anonymous author of the corpus stated that bishops, in an effort to Christianise: Διὸ καὶ τὴν ὁσιωτάτην ἡμῶν ἱεραρχίαν, ἡ τελετάρχις ἱεροθεσία, τῆς τῶν οὐρανίων ἱεραρχιῶν ὑπερκοσμίου μιμήσεως ἀξιώσασα, καὶ τὰς εἰρημένας ἀΰλους ἱεραρχίας ὑλαίοις σχήμασι καὶ μορφωτικαῖς συνθέσεσι διαποικίλασα παραδέδωκεν, ὅπως ἀναλόγως ἡμῖν αὐτοῖς ἀπὸ τῶν ἱερωτάτων πλάσεων, ἐπὶ τὰς ἁπλᾶς καὶ ἀτυπώτους ἀναχθῶμεν ἀναγωγὰς καὶ ἀφομοιώσεις· ἐπεὶ μηδὲ δυνατόν ἐστι τῷ καθ’ ἡμᾶς νο, πρὸς τὴν ἄϋλον ἐκείνην ἀναταθῆναι τῶν οὐρανίων ἱεραρχιῶν μίμησίν τε καὶ θεωρίαν, εἰ μὴ τῇ κατ’ αὐτὸν ὑλαίᾳ χειραγωγίᾳ χρήσαιτο, τὰ μὲν φαινόμενα κάλλη, τῆς ἀφανοῦς εὐπρεπείας ἀπεικονίσματα λογιζόμενος· καὶ τὰς αἰσθητὰς εὐωδίας, ἐκτυπώματα τῆς νοητῆς διαδόσεως· καὶ τῆς ἀΰλου φωτοδοσίας εἰκόνα τὰ ὑλικὰ φῶτα· […] Ταύτης οὖν ἕνεκα τῆς ἡμῶν ἀναλόγου θεώσεως ἡ φιλάνθρωπος τελεταρχία, καὶ τὰς οὐρανίας ἱεραρχίας ἡμῖν ἀναφαίνουσα, καὶ συλλειτουργὸν αὐτῶν τελοῦσα τὴν καθ’ ἡμᾶς ἱεραρχίαν τῇ πρὸς δύναμιν ἡμῶν ἀφομοιώσει, τῆς θεοειδοῦς αὐτῶν ἱερώσεως, ταῖς αἰσθηταῖς εἰκόσι τοὺς ὑπερουρανίους ἀνεγράψατο νόας, ἐν ταῖς ἱερογραφικαῖς τῶν λογίων συνθέσεσιν, ὅπως ἂν ἡμᾶς ἀναγάγοι διὰ τῶν αἰσθητῶν ἐπὶ τὰ νοητὰ, κἀκ τῶν ἱεροπλάστων συμβόλων ἐπὶ τὰς ἁπλᾶς τῶν οὐρανίων ἱεραρχιῶν ἀκρότητας.³⁷⁵ ὡς θεῖοι, τῆς τῶν μετ’ αὐτοὺς ἀναγωγῆς καὶ θεώσεως, αἰσθηταῖς εἰκόσι τὰ ὑπερουράνια, καὶ ποικιλίᾳ καὶ πλήθει τὸ συνεπτυγμένον, καὶ ἐν ἀνθρωπίνοις τε τὰ θεῖα, καὶ ἐνύλοις τὰ ἄϋλα, καὶ τοῖς καθ’ ἡμᾶς τὰ ὑπερούσια.³⁷⁶

Using the most appropriate “dissimilar similarities”, bishops created stages on which the element Dionysius held to be truly theophanic in the realm of the senses, the clerical hierarchy, was displayed.³⁷⁷ Mirroring the situation in heaven, the clergy intermediated humanity’s contact with the divine. It was the bishop who synthesised the scene’s theophanic potential, with Dionysius describing

 Dionysius Cael. Hier. . (ed. PG .CD, Luibheid and Rorem : ) “He [the bishop] modelled it on the hierarchies of heaven, and clothed these immaterial hierarchies in numerous material figures and forms so that, in a way appropriate to our nature, we might be uplifted from these most venerable images to interpretations and assimilations which are simple and inexpressible. For it is quite impossible that humans should, in any immaterial way, rise up to imitate and to contemplate the heavenly hierarchies without the aid of those material means capable of guiding us as our nature requires […] The beautiful odours which strike the senses are representations of a conceptual diffusion. Material lights are images of the outpouring of an immaterial gift of light.” Iamblichus De Myst. . as well speaks of the φωτὸς ἀγωγή.  Dionysius Eccl. Hier. .. (ed. PG .D, trans. Luibheid and Rorem : ) “Like gods, they [the bishops] had a burning and generous urge to secure uplifting and divinization for their subordinates. And so, using images derived from the senses they spoke of the transcendent. […] Of necessity they made human what was divine. They put material on what was immaterial.”  Dionysius Cael. Hier.  (ed. PG .CD) and Eccl. Hier.  (ed. PG .B).

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him as a deiform, sun-like presence that imparted the Divine Light.³⁷⁸ As it fulfilled the same anthropological ideal on which we have seen the baptisand moulded, the bishop visually represented his God in a spectacle held in front of the coreligionists. Inside San Vitale in Ravenna, one finds a ritual stage composed of those elements Dionysius found the most revelatory. Reproducing the structure and atmosphere of heaven, the scene legitimised the iconic pretension of the clerical hierarchy, with the material setting functioning to the hoi polloi the same way the writings of Dionysius did for the intelligentsia—by providing a complex context that indicated the clergy’s performance as theophanic. Read in this key, the spaces evince the effort made by bishops to institutionalise the iconicity which in the case of holy individuals was held to be spontaneous.³⁷⁹ It appears that the staging of the Eucharistic liturgy as a theophany drew on the experience and success of baptism, with Dionysius again being our most important source. The building of revelatory stages preceded his time, he says, and refers to baptism in terms that testify to his awareness of the artifices discussed in section one.³⁸⁰ It is likely that the success of the baptismal setting stimulated the revelatory dimension of the spaces designed to host the Eucharistic liturgy. The creation of a hierarchy of spaces through the amount of natural and artificial light was combined with more subtle effects that stressed the revelatory character of

 On the iconicity of the bishop, see Cael. Hier. . (ed. PG .D-A). On his sun-like character, see Eccl. Hier. .. (ed. PG .B).  See Frank b.  In Div. Nom. . (ed. PG .BC, trans. Luibheid and Rorem : ) Dionysius stated “This is the kind of divine enlightenment (θεουργικὰ φῶτα) into which we have been initiated by the hidden tradition of our inspired teachers…”, making use of a vocabulary that referred to Iamblichus and the similarity between baptism and theurgical practice. Discussing baptism in his Eccl. Hier. , he mentioned that the catechumen presented himself to the bishop at the beginning of Lent asking “sacred mediation in obtaining an encounter with God and with things divine” (Eccl. Hier. .., ed. PG .A, trans. Luibheid and Rorem : ). The purpose of the ritual was, according to him, divinisation. The complete anointing of the body, the invitation to obtain victory over death, the baptisand having his form dissolved in the font and being reshaped through the ritual, and the presence of bright clothes are also mentioned. Referring to the disciplina arcani, he stated that it needs to be respected because “no one with weak eyes can safely look upon the rays of the sun” (Eccl. Hier. ., ed PG .A, trans. Luibheid and Rorem : ). Speaking of Moses being purified before encountering God, he stated that afterwards he saw a multitude of lights and streaming rays (Myst. Theol. ., ed. PG .CD). Lastly, discussing mystagogues in the context of baptism, he claimed that “They do not gaze after that glory so stupidly praised by the mob […] they have no time to return to the counterfeits which beguile the mob.” (Eccl. Hier. .., ed. PG .AB, trans. Luibheid and Rorem : ).

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the light inside churches. The same effect of substantiation of the divine light and investment of the person at the centre with a luminous aura which we saw in the Orthodox Baptistery was reached with techniques adapted to a diurnal context. The space inside the Ravennate church dedicated to San Vitale, analysed in the present chapter, appears as an enactment of Dionysius’ presentation of the sacraments, the clergy, and especially the bishop as theophanic.

II.1 San Vitale in Ravenna II.1.1 Juliana Anicia and “Justinianic” Churches The theophanic dimension of church space evolved from the beginning of the fifth century, as bishops recognised the believer’s need of visual prompts. Belonging to an aristocracy familiar with art’s capacity to both educate and impress, fifth-century bishops developed spaces in which the “visual rhetoric of sanctity”³⁸¹ popular in the period was used to stress their emergence as new local potentates. Making use of the experience gained in the staging of baptism, but drawing also on techniques developed to stimulate the perception of the emperor as divine, bishops catalysed their own iconicity by organising a Eucharistic ritual that presented them as living manifestations of God. Mushrooming in the late fifth and sixth centuries, the resulting spaces appear subjected to an aesthetic of light, thus making the grey post-Roman topography of the western provinces seem “patched with sudden flashes of unearthly light”.³⁸² Replacing fora as centres of towns’ civic life, the atria of churches like San Vitale catalysed the dissemination of a new, fundamentally Christian Weltanschauung through the use of the aesthetic taste of the elite.³⁸³ The “jewelled style” characteristic of the age promoted uarietas/ποικιλία as the main aesthetic value, and favoured the amassing of bright decorative elements. These lavish spaces produced an “aesthetic saturation”³⁸⁴ that influenced the onlooker’s perceptual prism, effect which

 Hahn : .  de Nie :  cf. Paulinus of Nola Carm.  and Venantius Fortunatus Carm. .. – . Without over-stressing rupture over continuity, the West in the fifth and sixth centuries went through profound changes. On church building, see Sidonius Apollinaris (ca.  – ) Ep. ., ., .; Ennodius of Pavia ( – ) Ep. , , , Carm. ., .; Gregory of Tours Hist. Frac. . – , . – ; Agnellus L.P.R. . The L.P. mentions twelve churches being built in Rome between  and .  Brown : .  Bradley : .

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rendered ποικιλία “a peculiar way of viewing reality.”³⁸⁵ Like baptisteries, these spaces were meant to overwhelm and educate, and served as a visual discourse that used theophanic motifs to legitimise the ritual, the clergy’s iconicity, and other symbolic discourses. Stimulated by the transubstantiation of the Eucharistic bread and wine, the assimilation of the church with the heavenly temple during the liturgy was further catalysed by the revelatory dimension of the decoration; the recurrent culmination of Late Antique iconographic programs in scenes with theophanic character attested to the desire to organise liturgical spaces as a setting for the sensuous experimentation of the divine.³⁸⁶ The phenomenon received its ultimate expression in the sixth century under imperial patronage. Built by Juliana Anicia (462– 528), the descendant of an illustrious Roman family that had given numerous consuls and two emperors of the West, the church dedicated to St. Polyeuktos was finished the year Justinian (527– 65) acceded to the imperial throne.³⁸⁷ The church was adjoined to Juliana’s Constantinople palace. Combining architectural mastery with lavish decoration, it introduced a new concept of church space. The long epigram inscribed on its walls praised Juliana as the new Solomon, a very apt comparison since, the epigram continues, the structure imitated the cosmos and was God’s house.³⁸⁸ The pre-Christian concept of temple as the physical habitation of God, already introduced via Solomon’s temple into Christianity during the time of Constantine, was given a material expression that supported its theophanic claim. The designer of Juliana’s church thus seems to have introduced the type of liturgical space and experience that Justinian and his architects popularised shortly after.³⁸⁹ A century after Paulinus staged the experience of the pilgrim in the cultic complex at Nola through careful programming that included space, decoration,

 Agosti : . Roberts  coined the term “jewelled style” referring to what Thomas :  defined as an “aesthetic of adornment that revels in polychromatic juxtapositions and contrasts which seek to outdo as much as to replicate effects seen in the natural word.” See Ivanovici  on the manner in which one’s perception was manipulated in Late Antique churches through the appeal to a visceral reaction that affected his or her capacity to reason.  San Vitale in Ravenna, Sant’Apollinare in Classe, San Michele in Africisco (Ravenna), St. Catherine in Sinai, and the Red Monastery in Sohag have theophanic scenes in their main apses.  For an introduction on the church, see Freely and Çakmak :  – .  The Anth. Palat. . preserves the epigram. On the cosmic dimension of cultic architecture in the sixth century, see Lehmann ; McVey ; Macrides and Magdalino : ; Taft : .  Gregory of Tours Glor. Mart.  testified to the renown of the church’s decoration. On archaeological finds, see Harrison . Columns inlaid with amethyst, green and gold glass were found. Harrison :  advanced the idea that Justinian was influenced by St. Polyeuktos in his building activity.

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iconography, and light, Anthemius of Tralles and Isidorus of Miletus gave the new type of ritual experience a seemingly perfect setting in Hagia Sophia. A few decades later, in other parts of the empire, churches reproduced the effect in varied manners. Making use of elements that not only Christians, but all of Late Antique society praised as luminous and/or iconic, churches built during the reign of Justinian betray their designers’ intention to produce what was commonly held to be a life-altering experience. The religion had entered a new stage, different from that which had produced the monumental baptisteries of the previous century. Although most of the population of the Roman Empire had become Christian, the conversion en masse had forced the relaxation of the catechetical process, the result being members of the cult that knew little of the tenets and were prone to mix Christian and non-Christian elements. Furthermore, the deep rhythms of the late Roman society were still essentially “pagan”, Christianity being merely a veneer. Church and state strove to change that by promoting awe inspiring ceremonials that legitimised the new order, itself a Christian interpretation of Neoplatonic categories. Public spaces and ceremonies reflect this program, pertaining to a phenomenon which Alan Kreider aptly called “post-baptismal conversion”.³⁹⁰ As confessed by Hypatius of Ephesus (sed. 531– 8), one of the Emperor’s advisors on theological matters, light was the quintessential theophanic element in these mise-en-scènes: We allow even material adornment in the sanctuaries […] because we permit each order of the faithful to be guided and led up to the divine being in a manner appropriate to it [the order] because we think that some people are guided even by these [material decorations] towards intelligible beauty and from the abundant light in the sanctuaries to the intelligible and immaterial light.³⁹¹

Like shards inside a kaleidoscope, sixth-century “Justinianic” churches appear as various combinations of the same elements.³⁹² Of the six churches whose decorative programs survive, scholars have focused on Hagia Sophia in Constantinople and on St. Catherine’s in Sinai, both Justinianic foundations.³⁹³ The remaining four—San Vitale in Ravenna, Sant’Apollinare in Classe, the basilica of Eufrasius in Poreč, and the Red Monastery in Sohag—are still to be systematically addressed from a ritual point of view. The structural and symbolic complexity of San Vitale in Ravenna recommend it as a case study that would reveal the manner in which the revelatory dimension recurrently associated with these spaces was enacted.    

Kreider . Hypatius of Ephesus Ep. to Julian of Atramytium (trans. Alexander : ). On the use of the same iconographic motifs, see Török : ; Bolman . Elsner ; Schibille ; Elsner and Wolf ; Gavril .

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Fig. 27. Hagia Sophia in Constantinople, view of the interior through the imperial doors. Study of light in apse, 1948. Byzantine Institute. © Dumbarton Oaks, Image Collections and Fieldwork Archives, Washington, D.C.

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II.1.2 Sixth-Century Ravenna and the Church of San Vitale Sixth-century Ravenna appears as one of the “pockets of profound continuity with the cultural patterns” referred to recently by Jaś Elsner.³⁹⁴ At the cultural crossroad between East and West, the city was successively sedes imperii (402– 76), capital of the Ostrogoth kingdom (493 – 540), and capital of the Byzantine exarchate (540 – 751). Stimulated by the measures of Theodoric and Justinian, the Roman school system survived, attracting what was to become the cultural elite of the West.³⁹⁵ Both the trivium and the quadrivium were offered, and theoretical treatises and technical books were translated from Greek to Latin. The context in which an architect could reach the level of expertise a royal court expected thus was assured.³⁹⁶ Following Boethius (ca. 480 – 526) as Theodoric’s magister officiorum, Cassiodorus (ca. 485 – 580) reported the existence of a curator palatii and of programmatic construction in Ostrogoth Ravenna.³⁹⁷ In the two decades it took for San Vitale to be finished, Ravenna went through radical changes. Initiated during Theodoric’s anti-Catholic campaign and continued through the reign of his orthodox daughter Amalasuntha and the war between her son-in-law Witinges and Constantinople, the church was finished seven years into Byzantine rule.³⁹⁸ Heresy, war, plague, famine, episcopal interregnum, and conse-

 Elsner : .  Riché : . Ennodius ( – ) came from Provence to study in Ravenna. Parthenius ( – ), son of Emperor Avitus, and his colleague Arator studied in Ravenna law, the classical poets, the poems of Sidonius Apollinaris, and the hymns of Ambrose. Venantius Fortunatus came from Treviso ca.  to study law, grammar, and rhetoric.  Cassiodorus Var. . recommended to the curator palatii Boethius’ translation of Euclid. Pappus of Alexandria (ca.  – ) expected architects to study geometry, arithmetic, astronomy, physics, metallurgy, architectural construction, carpentry, and pictorial art. On the formation and condition of the architect in the sixth century, see Schibille :  – .  Cassiodorus Var. . (trans. Zanini : ) mentioned the formula for the appointment of the court architect who was expected to “bring our idea to everybody’s eyes. The mason, the marble-cutter, the brass-maker, the builder of vaults, the plasterer, and the mosaicist all will ask you about anything they are unsure of, and so, an army of artisans will come to you for orders, so as to avoid any kind of mistake.” On Theodoric bringing skilled marble workers from Rome, see Cassiodorus Var. .. The seven churches, the baptistery, and the mausoleum built by the Arian king during his reign, along with numerous other non-cultic building projects, testify to the existence of skilled local architects and builders.  Apart from Deichmann :  –  and a:  ff, there is no systematic study of San Vitale. Rizzardi  focuses on the architecture while Rizzardi  makes interesting relations but is not systematic. For an introduction, see Deliyannis :  – ; Jäggi :  – .

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cration by Maximian, a presbyter from Pola named bishop in 546, marked the building’s construction, all of which hamper ascribing constructive or decorative elements to any specific phase. In my opinion, the relationship between the founder Bishop Ecclesius (sed. 522– 32) and Constantinople, and San Vitale’s displaying the same theophanic concept of church space that had existed in the East for a decade³⁹⁹ remain fundamental for apprehending the church’s underlying concept. As part of Bishop John I of Rome’s (sed. 523– 6) embassy to Justin I’s (518– 27) court in 526, Ecclesius could have seen the nearly finished St. Polyeuktos.⁴⁰⁰ It is likely that the bishops of Rome and Ravenna paid a courtesy visit to the princess whose family had ruled the West until recently. Juliana could have shown them the way she had continued the building tradition of her great-grandmother Galla Placidia, who had embellished Ravenna with lavishly decorated churches. It is possible that the plan of San Vitale was at least inspired by the Constantinopolitan church, if not given to the bishop by her architect, like her other grand-grandmother Eudoxia did with Bishop Porphyry of Gaza (sed. 395– 420).⁴⁰¹ Less certain is the possible influence on the plan of San Vitale by the other centralised Constantinopolitan churches of the time, Sts. Sergius and Bacchus and Hagia Sophia.⁴⁰² The first, begun by Justinian before his election as Emperor, was a double-shell church with a central octagon inscribed in a square. The protruding presbytery and its relation to the inner octagon show similarities to San Vitale, but the general dynamic of the space is different, as San Vitale has a more accentuated vertical momentum.⁴⁰³ Hagia Sophia represents, in my opinion, a closer analogy, as Justinian’s masterpiece contained constructive and decorative artifices meant to substantiate the atmosphere of heaven that appear in San Vitale as well.

 Angiolini Martinelli : .  Cf. Harrison :  –  who believes that the sculptors working on St. Polyeuktos came to Ravenna to work the capitals for San Vitale and later crossed the Adriatic to work on the basilica Eufrasiana at Poreč. The three churches use similar basket-capitals with undercut splitpalmettes, which, by the time San Vitale and the Eufrasiana were finished, were old fashioned cf. Deichmann a:  –  and Krautheimer [] : . Deichmann discussed the fourteen such capitals found in San Vitale and all other extant ones.  Cf. Mark the Deacon Life of Porphyry . Once home, Ecclesius could have asked the local architect “to bring to everyone’s eyes” the concept, using local techniques. Krautheimer [] :  believes the church is the work of a Western architect acquainted with Eastern typologies.  It is debated whether St. Polyeuktos had a cupola or not over the nave, I follow the reconstruction of Harrison  who believes that it did.  On this, see Mango , ; Krautheimer ; Bardill .

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Apart from this common element that is related to the essentially revelatory character of the space, the two structures appear to have been designed with different audiences in mind. Simultaneously acting as house of God’s luminous presence and ritual stage on which the emperor’s proximity to God was displayed, Hagia Sophia used the symbolic capital obtained through the fleshing out of heaven for a different agenda than that discernible in San Vitale. Indeed, the non-figurative character of the mural decoration in the Constantinopolitan church left it to the living participants in the ritual, the clergy and the members of the imperial family, to visually represent God, with the setting investing them with an iconic dimension that was unparalleled in the period.⁴⁰⁴ Enacting in a direct manner the Neoplatonic/Areopagitic concept of downwards imitation, the church reflected, or rather reproduced, the heavenly temple, having the ecclesiastical hierarchy substitute, iconically, the caelestial one: Σκοπὸς οὖν ἱεραρχίας ἐστὶν, ἡ πρὸς Θεὸν, ὡς ἐφικτὸν, ἀφομοίωσίς τε καὶ ἕνωσις, αὐτὸν ἔχουσα πάσης ἱερᾶς ἐπιστήμης τε καὶ ἐνεργείας καθηγεμόνα, καὶ πρὸς τὴν αὐτοῦ θειοτάτην εὐπρέπειαν ἀκλινῶς μὲν ὁρῶν, ὡς δυνατὸν δὲ ἀποτυπούμενος, καὶ τοὺς ἑαυτοῦ θιασώτας, ἀγάλματα θεῖα τελῶν, ἔσοπτρα διειδέστατα καὶ ἀκηλίδωτα, δεκτικὰ τῆς ἀρχιφώτου καὶ θεαρχικῆς ἀκτῖνος· καὶ τῆς μὲν ἐνδιδομένης αἴγλης ἱερῶς ἀποπληρούμενα, ταύτην δὲ αὖθις ἀφθόνως εἰς τὰ ἑξῆς ἀναλάμποντα, κατὰ τοὺς θεαρχικοὺς θεσμούς.⁴⁰⁵

In the atmosphere generated at the intersection of architecture, decoration, and illumination, the clergy and the imperial court performing the ritual seemed, as the author of the inauguration hymn put it, “the impression of the liturgy of those on high.”⁴⁰⁶ The space in San Vitale has a more obvious didactic dimension, with the spaces and the iconography educating the onlooker on the nature of Christian heaven. Unlike in Hagia Sophia, in San Vitale the bishop condensed the iconic potential of the space, and was the only truly theophanic participant in the ritual, the one who mediated the human and the divine hierarchies. As attested by other churches in the upper Adriatic, it was San Vitale rather than Hagia Sophia that represented the norm.

 Whether the iconography was iconic or aniconic it is unclear but all proof points to an aniconic program.  Dionysius Cael. Hier. . (PG .A, trans. Perl : ) “The purpose of hierarchy, then, is likeness and union with God as far as possible […] making the members of his dancing company divine images, clear and spotless mirrors, receptive of the original light and thearchic ray and sacredly filled with the granted radiance, and ungrudgingly flaring it up again to the next, according to the thearchic ordinances.”  Enkainia kontakion  (ed. Trypanis : , trans. Palmer and Rodley : ) τῆς τῶν ἄνω ἐκτύπωμα λειτουργίας γνωριζόμενος.

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While Hagia Sophia’s imperial dimension, architectural mastery, and lavishness make it unique, San Vitale is the perfect expression of the new ritual paradigm which we find enacted in less coherent manners in other churches. Reuniting the necessary parameters—i.e., willingness, know-how, funds, and imperial connections—the Ravennate church allows us to see the manner in which the Church made use of cultic architecture in the sixth century to flash out the presence of God for believers. The ideal character of the building is vouched for by its cost. Julianus Argentarius is said to have paid 26,000 gold solidi for the construction, an amount whose worth becomes clear when compared with the average cost of the structure’s constitutive elements.⁴⁰⁷ The price of mosaic decoration reveals that, apart from what is still extant, the interior must have contained many other precious details (marbles, lighting devices, liturgical vessels, and other objects).⁴⁰⁸ Apparently a memorial church dedicated to St. Vitalis, the building seems to have meant considerably more on the Ravennate scene. Unlike other memorial churches where “the relics are the churches’ raison d’être, the architecture extolling the power of the holy remains”,⁴⁰⁹ San Vitale, with the tomb of the saint placed not under the altar, but in one of the exedrae,⁴¹⁰ is the perfect expression of a phenomenon noticed by William R. Caraher: …the church often endeavored to “liturgicalize” the holy man through either forced enrolment in the clergy or posthumous glorification in a liturgical context. In these ways rival sources of Christian authority, whether it be from the charismatic leadership or the wealth and clients of a local aristocrat, were absorbed into a ritual that placed the clergy at the center. This strategy used Christian ritual and architecture to overwrite the social identity of the individual or phenomenon with an identity constructed through the institutional and ritual authority of the church and clergy.⁴¹¹

San Vitale’s size and structural complexity, as well as the layers of meaning overlapping in its iconography, indicate a diversified audience, and recommend it as the Western capital’s main ceremonial church. A statement of the city’s new status and privileged relation with Constantinople,⁴¹² the church provided the con Agnellus L.P.R.  (ed. Deliyannis :  – ). The amount was over twice the annual revenue of the Church of Ravenna and equal to that of Rome cf. Brown : .  On prices in the period, see Morrison ; Bowden .  Cantino Wataghin : .  On similar cases, see Yasin .  Caraher : , cf. also Ashbrook Harvey b.  As pointed out by Brown :  for the case of Paulinus of Nola, “To gather together so much precious stone implied not only great wealth but potentia—the working of patronage networks and the claiming of privileges […] access to government deposits of columns and unused blocks, as well as the use of government means of transport.” This was especially true when it

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text for displaying the relation Late Antique Christianity envisioned among the people, clergy, imperial authorities, and God. The double dynamic discernible in San Vitale, with the architecture and decoration reproducing the contemporary image of heaven, and the iconography and the ritual fleshing out the presence of heavenly beings inside the space, is reminiscent of the staging we have seen in the Orthodox Baptistery.⁴¹³

II.1.3 Venantius Fortunatus and the Ravennate Experience Before beginning my analysis of the space, I must address the nature of the written sources. Initially held by art historians to be inaccurate descriptions of artefacts, Late Antique ekphraseis—a style of literary description characteristic of the period and which favoured the description of the effect an object or setting had on the onlooker rather than the description of its features—have in recent decades been recognised as relevant sources.⁴¹⁴ Ekphraseis appear as the perfect instrument for the study of perception, as they attest to the emotion instilled by the spaces. Nevertheless, Late Antique church ekphraseis were usually written by members of the cultural stratum that designed and promoted the spaces as theophanic. The texts thus show the manner in which the designers of the spaces intended them to be perceived. As perceptively noticed by Patricia Cox Miller, “these ekphrastic images that present marble as organically alive and animated are not innocent poetic figures. Far from being ‘objective’ descriptions of a building, they are in fact subjective judgements that establish and control perception of a church’s interior space, conditioning the human subject’s relation to that space in terms of its theological meaning.”⁴¹⁵ Making use of rhetorical techniques developed in late Roman society, church ekphraseis manipulated the perception of the spaces.⁴¹⁶

came to the Proconnesian marble, used in San Vitale and other Justinianic churches, since the quarries were controlled by the imperial house.  This particular ritual setting was by no means limited to the upper-Adriatic and Constantinople; inscriptions in Ss. Cosmas and Damian (ca. ) and San Lorenzo f.l.m. (ca. ), both from Rome, show that the same symbolic and decorative parameters were used in Rome as well. The Red Monastery, Sohag shows the poorer version of the style, the marbles and materials being replaced with fresco that attempted to replicate the effect.  Webb : ; Agosti : .  Cox Miller : . See also Schibille b:  – .  Developed under the Empire to facilitate the exchange of knowledge, and create a new, more educated citizen, ekphrasis was an enculturation mechanism cf. Goldhill .

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As a literary genre, ekphrasis took the listener/reader on an imaginary journey around the space. Images were created in the listener’s mind through the use of vivid language and references to famous motifs.⁴¹⁷ Modern scholars initially saw the use of topoi as undermining the objectivity of the description. In my opinion, these meaning-saturated metaphors indicate the complex symbolic horizon against which these spaces were judged. Those of the topoi recognised as such and subsequently explored testify to the amazing depth of the process.⁴¹⁸ Appealing to both learned and common people, these literary and visual motifs allowed the uneducated to partake in the culture of the elite. Late Antique ekphraseis of churches functioned as legitimising instruments, with the ritual and its setting being rendered valid by association with famous, firmly established cultural elements. In the same way as authors used literary tropes, bishops recycled iconographic motifs that stood for cosmic dominance and created a visual discourse that indicated them as representatives of god. The use of vivid language in the description of artefacts appealed to one’s sensory experience and memories, conferring enargeia to the ekphrasis. An artefact or building’s appeal also depended on its capacity to convey enargeia. ⁴¹⁹ A term that meant “clear” or “bright” was thus used to denote the capacity of a work of art to appear enlivened. The dynamic character of light, that is, a flux exchanged by material bodies, made the artefacts appear lifelike. The Late Antique crediting of certain materials with the capacity to emit light made enargeia a matter of decoration, with the rendering’s naturalism losing ground to the “luminosity” of its texture. The enargeia of a built structure relied on the interplay between darkness and light, and on the brightness of its decorative materials and their hues. The concept is fundamental for our study since, as pointed out recently by C.A. Tsakiridou, in the case of cultic artefacts enargeia was a manifestation of their sharing in the divine.⁴²⁰ The church’s capacity to reproduce heaven and to catalyse the ritual’s iconicity accordingly relied on its enargeia. This section focuses on identifying the elements considered luminous, and thus enlivened. The study of the Late Antique cathedral’s inherent sacredness, a process pointed out by Sabine MacCormack,⁴²¹ begins with its enargeia and the phenomena on which it depended.

 Webb :  and : ; Tsakiridou :  – .  E. g. Isar a, b, and  on χορός. On the relevance of these topoi, see Maguire : ; Brubaker ; James and Webb .  On enargeia in ekphraseis, see Webb a, b; Dubel .  Tsakiridou : .  MacCormack .

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Extant descriptions of Justinianic churches focus on conveying the buildings’ enargeia to the reader, with the authors swiftly addressing the elements’ features while dwelling on their sensual impact. Insisting that the character of the space overwhelms and confounds the senses, and describing the reaction of the latter while the nature of the stimuli was indicated through topoi, the authors managed to stir in the reader an effect similar to the one the building had on the onlooker. Using their knowledge of cognitive processes, authors appealed both to one’s memory and reason just enough to allow for the creation in one’s mind of a vivid picture that was more his or her own vision than a realistic depiction of the actual church.⁴²² The effect recurrently described in ekphraseis was one of vertigo, a constantly changing sight of uncertain elements that overwhelmed the onlooker/reader with the richness of its details and the depth of its symbolism.⁴²³ Choricius of Gaza (early 6th ct.) and Procopius of Caesarea (ca. 500 – 60), among others, described the sensation produced by the spaces. The similarity of their accounts indicates that the authors referred to a popular motif: When you enter [the Church], you will be staggered by the variety of the spectacle. Eager as you are to see everything at once, you will depart not having seen anything properly, since your gaze darts hither and thither in your attempt not to leave aught unobserved: for you will think that in leaving something out you will have missed the best.⁴²⁴ All of these elements, marvellously fitted together in mid-air, suspended from one another and reposing only on the parts adjacent to them, produce a unified and most remarkable harmony in the work, and yet do not allow the spectators to rest their gaze upon any one of them for a length of time, but each detail readily draws and attracts the eye to itself. Thus the vision constantly shifts round, and the beholders are quite unable to select any particular element which they might admire more than all the others. No matter how much they concentrate their attention on this side and that, and examine everything with contracted eyebrows, they are unable to understand the craftsmanship and always depart from there amazed by the perplexing spectacle.⁴²⁵

The “perplexing spectacle” offered by these churches was not objective. The building was the material expression of theological, scriptural, and cosmological motifs

 The rhetorical schools’ interest in the listener/reader’s reaction to external stimuli led to acute observations regarding cognitive processes and the manner in which mental images took form.  Isar :  and b:  noticed that in ekphraseis authors “systematically ascribe a sort of vertige, a whirling, swinging movement to vision experienced in these sacred spaces.” The whirling was forced upon the onlooker by the variegated spectacle of the decoration cf. Photios of Constantinople (ca.  – ) Hom. . ff, quoted below.  Choricius of Gaza Laud. Marc. . –  (trans. Mango [] :  – ). See also Sidonius Apollinaris Carm. . – .  Procopius of Caesarea De Aedif. .. ff (trans. Mango [] : ).

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used by bishops to describe God.⁴²⁶ The architecture, decoration, and iconography that complemented the ritual translated into visual terms the Weltanschauung promoted by the Church and state. In the sixth century, Church, state, and heaven shared a common structure. The hierarchical organisation of heaven made visible during rituals was a visual discourse legitimising both the clerical and socio-political structure. The mise-en-scène was a complex staging meant to transmit a certain social and cosmic order.⁴²⁷ Of the many symbolic layers overlapping in the church space, its capacity to substantiate the Divine Presence is what interests me. This idea is best visible in the hymn written for the dedication of the church in Edessa, a sixth-century ekphrasis whose purpose, according to Kathleen McVey, was to establish the building as a visual manifestation of God’s Glory.⁴²⁸ At the intersection of architecture, decoration, and iconography; and drawing on both the symbolism of individual motifs and the meaning conveyed by their combination, the structure offered sensuous experimentation of the divine. It is in the poems of Venantius Fortunatus (ca. 535 – 605) that one can see the visual impact of episcopal cultic spaces in the Late Antique West. Born in Treviso, Fortunatus spent his youth studying rhetoric in Ravenna.⁴²⁹ Arriving in the capital at the age of seventeen, he remained there until 565, the year of Justinian’s death. The twelve years were formative for his style, as Fortunatus overlapped the impressions he had of Ravenna’s churches on the spaces he found in Gaul. Working as a professional poet for Gallic bishops and potentates, he often wrote laudatory poems and epigrams for churches, and praised their architecture and decoration in terms that, scholars agree, betray the fundamental moulding of his perception by the Ravennate cultic scene.⁴³⁰ The poet’s use of Ravennate visual metaphors testifies to a process of transmission, “une translation et une traduction de l’imaginaire: ce que Ravenne dit en images, il le dit (et l’exporte) avec des mots; ce qu’il a vu à Ravenne, il continue de le voir loin de Ravenne, moins parce que sa terre d’exil appartiendrait effectivement au meme univers des forms que parce que sa proper vision a valeur de programme.”⁴³¹ Fortunatus’ ekphraseis are part of a process of enculturation. The ideal images of heaven found in Ravenna’s churches functioned as patterns against

 McVey :  – , .  The overlapping of heavenly and state hierarchies is visible in Venantius Fortunatus Vita Mart. . – .  McVey : .  For his biography, see George :  – ; Reydellet : vii-xxviii.  On Fortunatus overlapping Ravennate impressions over Gallic churches in his ekphraseis, see Labarre ; Pietri : ; Cassingena-Trévedi a:  and  n. , b:  – ; de la Portbarré-Viard :  – .  Cassingena-Trévedi a: .

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which the decorative programs executed in Gaul were judged and praised. The detail is a testimony of the Ravennate churches’ suitability for expressing the divine as imagined in the sixth century.⁴³² His poetry attests that contemporary churches were intentionally built as a visual expression of heaven.⁴³³ The Gallic churches Fortunatus describes are for the most part new or recently renovated buildings in which the decorative programs generate a light that is presented as divine.⁴³⁴ While he names all the elements generating the atmosphere— i.e. natural and artificial light, decorative materials, metallic paraphernalia, adorned textiles, and the clergy—Fortunatus manages to eventually detach it from its sources, and associate it with the Divine Presence. Created by the interplay between architecture, decoration, and ritual, the light was the very element that conferred meaning to the scene: Chez Fortunat, l’édifice religieux est en lui-même emanation de la lumière divine qui l’habite […] Les églises qu’il chante sont de grands vaisseaux envahis par la lumière que laissent pénétrer les vitraux, et c’est la lumière qui sculpte en quelque sorte les volumes de l’édifice…⁴³⁵

The luminous atmosphere is an active principle. It “invited” God, “enflamed” believers, enlivened the decoration, and visually attested to the sanctity of certain objects and persons: Emicat aula potens solido perfecta metallo, quo sine nocte manet continuata dies. Inuitat locus ipse Deum sub luce perenni gressibus ut placidis intret amando lares ⁴³⁶

 Labarre  and Cassingena-Trevedy a:  see Fortunatus as the agent introducing to Gaul the Eastern, Syrian fascination with luminous phenomena that influenced the construction of the buildings in Ravenna.  See Venantius Fortunatus Carm. .. –  for his description of heaven as a sixth-century church, fundamentally luminous and made out of shining materials.  Fortunatus’ churches “shine” cf. Carm. .. – , .., .., .., .., .., .., .., etc.  de la Portbarré-Viard :  […] .  Venantius Fortunatus Carm. .. –  (ed. and trans. Reydellet : ) “La basilique majestueuse achevée avec une décoration de métal massif étincelle: là, ignorant la nuit, dure un jour permanent. Le lieu lui-même baigné d’une lumière sans fin invite la divinité à entrer dans sa maison d’un pas tranquille et plein d’amour.” The lavish decoration “plebem accendit” cf. Carm. .. (ed. and trans. Reydellet : ) and, according to his Carm. .. –  (ed. and trans. Reydellet : ), “Flagranti studio populum domus inrigat omnem certimque moment quis prior ire ualet.” / “Cette maison inonde tout le peuple d’un zèle brûlant et à l’envi ils s’encouragent à qui marchera le premier.”

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Illic expositos fucis animantibus artus uiuere picturas arte reflante putas. Sol uagus ut dederit per stagnea tecta colorem, lactea lux resilit, cum rubor inde ferit. Ire redire uides radio crispante figuras atque lacunar agit quod maris unda solet. ⁴³⁷ Sacra sepulchra tegunt Bibiani argentea tecta, unianimis tecum quae Placidina dedit. Quo super effusum rutilans intermicat aurum et spargunt radios pura metalla suos. Ingenio perfecta nouo tabulata coruscant artificemque putas hic animasse feras. ⁴³⁸

Like the Virgin’s pregnant body, the church contains a light that is both generated by and independent of it.⁴³⁹ The Carmina of Fortunatus remain a fundamental source regarding the perception of sixth-century cultic spaces in the West, whether or not Geneviève Bührer-Thierry is correct in considering the description of the cathedrals in Nantes and Bordeaux as based on San Vitale.⁴⁴⁰ Fortunatus’ writings are our closest source for the effect the cultic spaces in Ravenna had on believers. Like the sixth-century poet, I address each of the elements that contributed to the creation of the theophany before turning again to ekphraseis and attempting to see the effect of their combining inside the space.

 Venantius Fortunatus Carm. .. –  (ed. and trans. Reydellet : ) “Là-haut, sont représentés des corps auxquels les couleurs donnent vie, on croit ces peintures vivantes souls le souffle de l’art. Dès que le soleil, dans sa course, a jeté son éclat sur les toits d’étain, là où frappe le rougeoiement rebondit une lumière laiteuse. Sous l’irisation des rayons on voit les figures aller et venir, et le plafond produit l’effet de l’eau de la mer.” According to Gosserez :  n. , the fragment is reminiscent of Prudentius’ description of the baptistery in Old St. Peter’s in Cath. . – .  Venantius Fortunatus Carm. .. –  (ed. and trans. Reydellet : ) “Le tombeau sacré de Vivien est surmonté d’un couronnement en argent que Placidine a offert put s’associer à vous. Au-dessus, l’or à profusion étincelle d’une éclat fauve et le pur métal répand ses rayons. Les lambris, achevés avec un art nouveau, flamboient et l’on croit que l’artiste a donné la vie à des animaux sauvages.” The same interplay of luminous surfaces is found in Paulinus of Nola Carm. . – .  Venantius Fortunatus Carm. .. –  (ed. Reydellet :  – , trans. Roberts : ) “Lumine plena micans imitata est aula Mariam: illa utero lucem clausit et ista diem.” / “Full of radiant light the church imitated Mary; she enclosed light in her womb, it enclosed day.”  Bührer-Thierry : .

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II.1.4 The Architecture The perception of San Vitale began with the exterior. Placed in a cemetery, close to two other architectural experiments, the cruciform basilica of Galla Placidia and the dodecagonal church of Santa Maria Maggiore,⁴⁴¹ San Vitale presented itself to the approaching onlooker as a heavy, uncomely structure. The contrast between the brick exterior and the lavish interior, a characteristic of Ravennate cultic architecture, was further accentuated by the impossibility of glancing inside the church before entering it. The managed perception of the space through carefully orchestrated sight lines, a technique used already by Paulinus at Nola, was perfected in San Vitale, where the succession of thresholds leading to the apsidal area visually and spatially reproduced heaven. Advancing through increasingly luminous spaces, the onlooker experienced the gradual theophany that led him or her to a sight that had been promoted as transformative from the first century BCE on, God’s throne.⁴⁴² (see Fig. 3)

Fig. 28. External view of San Vitale in Ravenna (ca. 548), from the East.

 Initially dedicated to Sant’Agata, the church was dodecagonal. Later, the structure was included in the church of Santa Maria, part of the dodecagon becoming its apse.  E. g. Rev.  and . The throne of God had become the focal point of visionary ascensions in mystically oriented Late Antique strains of Judaism and Christianity.

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Fig. 29. Reconstructed ground plan of San Vitale in Ravenna (ca. 548). From Jäggi 2013: 241. The tomb of St. Vitalis is indicated in grey.

Fifth-century experimental structures like the Theotokos church built by Emperor Zeno (ca. 425 – 91) on Mount Gerizim assured that the octagonal plan migrated successfully from martyria and baptisteries to spaces used for the celebration of the Eucharist. In San Vitale, one of the few centralised churches from Late Antique Italy, the hypnotic effect of the lavishly decorated presbyterial area—a constant visual focus throughout one’s wandering inside the church—and the circular, unfolding character of the space, assured the vertigo effect that was highly praised in contemporary ekphraseis. A double-shell octagon with a protruding presbytery to which two chapel-like spaces were attached, San Vitale was accessible through seven doors. However, it was through the atrium and narthex that it was meant to be first apprehended.⁴⁴³ The atrium and narthex mediated the transition from profane to sacred space, their placement off the main axis preventing one from seeing the interior of the church before entering. The architect thus stressed both the distinction between outside and inside, and the progressive character of the sight.⁴⁴⁴ Placed in the north-

 On accessing Late Antique churches, see Mathews : ; Taft :  – . Since the prothesis and diakonikon were introduced in the liturgical service later, the two spaces adjacent to the presbytery in San Vitale probably had other functions.  Rizzardi :  –  discussed the various reasons proposed by scholars for the broken axis. While admitting the importance of pragmatic reasons, an element of such impact must have also had a pertinent symbolic explanation. The stressing of the church’s double nature through the

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west and blocked by the narthex, the main entrance did not receive direct sunlight in the morning; the visual impact of the presbytery on the opposite end, whose mosaic decoration gleamed in the morning sun, was assured. The initial, centripetal momentum generated by the visual appeal of the presbytery and by the concentric display of the space dissolved as one reached the central octagon. From its core, the dynamic of the space was reversed as the unfolding of the ambulatory and the galleries, the undulating display of the exedras, and the coiling-over of the surrounding apses and semi-domes produced a centrifugal spin. The double dynamic of the space perfectly expressed that of the cosmos as it reproduced both the emanation from a central point, and the natural desire of creation to return to its source.⁴⁴⁵ The vertical momentum, a particularity of San Vitale, is toned down by the presbyterial area which, in a coiling-over movement, cascades down.⁴⁴⁶ (see Fig. 3) The cupola cannot be seen simultaneously with the presbytery, a detail that makes it seem that the entire space was designed to focus one’s attention on the sanctuary. The concept behind the design of the central space seems to be the dynamic of the choros. As in Procopius’ description of the columns in Hagia Sophia, the exedras in San Vitale “retreat inward in the pattern of the semicircle as if they were yielding to one another in a choral dance”.⁴⁴⁷ (see Figs. 29 & 30) In San Vitale, the momentum is further stressed by the concentric display of the ambulatory and galleries. Indeed, one could use the words of Dionysius to describe the view offered to the sixth century person standing at the centre of San Vitale: “Herein the divine love eminently shows its endlessness and beginninglessness, as an eternal circle, whirling around through the Good, from the Good, and in the Good and to the Good in unerring coiling-up, always proceeding and remaining and returning in the same and by the same.”⁴⁴⁸ The symmetry of the sides, their opening through the ambulatory and galleries towards an exterior that was both luminous and hidden, and the coiling over dynamic characterising the area of the sanctuary perfectly reproduced the Neoplatonic/Areopagitic concept. The presence of the ambulatory and the galleries achieved the inverse perspective indicated by Plotinus as a technique meant to place the onlooker at the centre two doors opening towards the altar and tomb (the thesis of Ricci : ), and the blocking of visual access appear to this author to legitimise the choice. Late Antique churches in Greece present the same non-axial display of entrances cf. Caraher :  – , and Justinian’s Hagia Sophia has a double narthex in which only the central doors, reserved to the clergy and the emperor, were aligned, allowing a direct sight inside the church before entering it.  As in Neoplatonic philosophy. See Isar :  – .  On the cosmic dimension of the coiling-over dynamic known from Hagia Sophia, see Isar a, b, :  – ; Pentcheva : .  Procopius De Aedif. .. (trans. Isar : ).  Dionysius Div. Nom. . (ed. PG .C-A, trans. Perl : ).

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Fig. 30. Upward view of San Vitale in Ravenna (ca. 548), from the central octagon. Photo by Th. Tersch.

of the ritual. Producing the same effect that the throne and altar register did in the Baptistery, the ambulatory and the galleries generated a “porous shell”⁴⁴⁹ of uncertain depth, and gave the impression of an unfolding space. Nevertheless, unlike our analysis of the general character of the space, location conditioned the perception of

 Piotrowski :  “the walls surrounding the central space were transformed into layers of screens saturated with light.”

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the person taking part in the sixth-century liturgy.⁴⁵⁰ As pointed out by Jean-Michel Spieser, “the space within a church is not neutral or undifferentiated, but it is structured by boundaries, ways of passage, it has a focal point imposed by ritual and in relation to which a certain perception of space is organised, accentuated and made visible by the organisation of the decoration.”⁴⁵¹ San Vitale, too, reflected in its spatial compartmentalisation socio-religious hierarchies. The exact attribution of spaces, as well as the manner in which they were differentiated is unfortunately unknown. Thus, the association of spaces with certain categories draws on circumstantial evidence. Apart from the presbyterial area and the narthex, reserved for the clergy and catechumens, respectively, the remainder of the spaces cannot be ascribed with certainty. If, as often in the East, the galleries were reserved for women, they would have had the most privileged sight of the holy area.⁴⁵² Furthermore, the division of the space through provisional screens such as curtains or wooden chancels cannot be verified, but since few centralised churches with curtains or stylobates are known, it is safe to conclude that visibility was one of San Vitale’s characteristics.⁴⁵³ Unlike in Hagia Sophia where most of the believers had no direct visual access to the ritual, and participated, as argued by Bissera Pentcheva, through singing,⁴⁵⁴ San Vitale offered a more intimate ritual stage. A short marble chancel separated the raised presbyterial area which was visible to all except those standing behind the pillars.⁴⁵⁵ The visual taboo characterising the church’s rela-

 On the evolution of spatial distinctions in north-Italy, see Cantino Wataghin . Knight  and Gavril  analysed San Vitale’s, respectively Hagia Sophia’s space syntax using isovists to see the volume of space visible from given points of view.  Spieser : . Eusebius of Caesarea Hist. Eccl. .. mentioned the existence in Tyre (ca. ) of a wooden chancel screen separating the space reserved for the clergy. The Fourth Council of Laodicea (Canons  and ) established in  places for the clergy, catechumens, and women. On the matter, see Taft , :  – ; Mainstone [] :  – . Mathews :  –  and Taft :  –  argued, contra Krautheimer : , that men and women shared the space in the nave in Hagia Sophia.  In San Vitale, the columns flanking the balcony in front of the presbytery, which granted perfect visual access to it, have holes that indicate the presence of curtain rails. However, it is impossible to date them with certainty to the sixth century.  Urs :  on stylobates in centralised churches. Mathews :  –  pertinently argued against the use of curtains to separate the nave and aisles in the early Byzantine liturgy. Even when present in inventories, the curtains could have been used as tapestries that decorated the walls as in Brioude cf. Gregory of Tours Virt. Jul. .  Pentcheva : .  See Deichmann a:  –  on the original chancel screen in San Vitale and Cuscito  on its use in the Adriatic area in general. On Hagia Sophia, see Xydis ; Grobe, Hauck, Noback .

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tion to the outside was not only annulled, but also reversed upon entering. This detail testifies to the designer’s desire to create a clear visual discourse. As underlined by Georgia Frank, visibility was fundamental for the successful dissemination of the imagistic patterns popularised through the liturgical drama: Neophytes were advised to superimpose a different set of mental images to situate both bread and wine in the drama of Christ’s death. The deacons and celebrants were thereby enlisted in this mental drama to fill out the various roles […] Such re-imaging of the Eucharist would not have been possible without having the Eucharistic rites in plain sight. To hold that spectacle before the laity’s eyes required an architectural design with clear sight-lines […] Through preaching and the repeated gestures of ritual, then, such associations and perception became naturalised.⁴⁵⁶

This performative dimension of the liturgy attested by the architecture reinforces my idea that the ritual and its setting used typology to substantiate its theophanic pretension, by assimilating participants in the liturgical drama to divine characters.⁴⁵⁷ As they wandered through the church, the participants’ attention divided between the decoration of the various spaces and the presbyterial area. The multitude of spaces, as well as the contrasts and the richness of the decoration confounded one’s perception, leading to the sensation of vertigo mentioned in ekphraseis. The central octagon offered a sight that the sixth-century Christian would have remembered from the night of his or her baptism: the cosmos revolved above and around as “a miracle in perpetual whirling”.⁴⁵⁸ How exactly it was orchestrated and what role light played in the staging we will now see.

II.1.4.1 The Orientation and Openings The manner in which natural light interacted with the building’s interior depended on the orientation of the structure, as well as on the position and nature

 Frank :  – , concluded that “Whatever barriers demarcated reserved spaces, they were never high enough to obstruct any sight-lines among the laity.” Indeed, the chancel screens that in San Vitale and elsewhere in Late Antiquity separated the altar area were as much barriers as they were openings, stressing the exceptionality of the visual feast rather than blocking it. See Branham :  on the effect of such chancels.  The practice, defined by de Nie :  as “a strategy of imagination” was according to Onians , who studied the evolution of the technique from the time of Quintilian to that of Paul the Silentiary, one of the elements that set apart Christianity from the rest of society in Late Antiquity.  Paul the Silentiary Descr. S. Soph.  (trans. Isar : ).

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of the openings.⁴⁵⁹ One’s advancement through the liturgical space was guided by the lighting, with volume and light increasing from the atrium to the apse. The centrifugal momentum of the architecture was toned down by the processional axis which added a longitudinal dynamic to the space. The five spaces that succeeded on this axis—the narthex, ambulatory, nave, presbytery, and apse—appeared increasingly luminous, which rendered one’s advancement through the church an ascension-like experience. A basic building principle, the orientation of the structure vis-à-vis the sun’s path, was followed by church architects.⁴⁶⁰ As testified by Eusebius of Caesarea, Constantinian churches used the same orientation principle found in Greek temples, with the door towards the rising sun.⁴⁶¹ This, Eusebius noted, allowed one standing in the atrium to glance all the way to the altar as light ran the length of the nave.⁴⁶² The fifth century saw the generalisation of apses’ eastern orientation, as noted by Sible de Blaauw.⁴⁶³ During Justinian’s reign, a new orientation principle seems to have been introduced. Identified by Nadine Schibille at Hagia Sophia, the new technique presupposed aligning a structure’s apse towards the sunrise on the winter solstice.⁴⁶⁴ The practice assured the best possible illumination of the apsidal area throughout the year, as it condensed the morning sun at the hour of the liturgy.⁴⁶⁵  Deichmann a: pl.  indicated north erroneously and most subsequent studies on the church reproduced it without checking. The apse of San Vitale points to the SE (see Fig. ).  Ambrose of Milan Hex. .. (ed. PL ., trans. Savage : ) “Qui aedificium aliquod dignum habitaculo patrisfamilias struere desiderat, antequam fundamenta ponat, unde lucem ei infundat explorat, et ea prima est gratia, quae si desit, tota domus deformi horret incultu. Lux est quae reliquos domus commendat ornatus.” / “The person who desires to erect a house as a fitting habitation for the head of a family determines first how it may receive light abundantly before he lays the foundation. This is the first requisite. If this is lacking, the whole house is without beauty and is uninhabitable. It is light which sets off the other beautiful objects in the house.”  See Vogel :  – .  Eusebius of Caesarea Hist. Eccl. .. and .. – .  de Blaauw . Gerola  studied the orientation of thirty-five Ravennate churches dated from the fifth to the eleventh century with no conclusive results. Nevertheless, he seems to have used a compass, which indicated not astronomical but magnetic north. Sources mention the orientation towards the equinoctial sun, which found theological support in Jn. .. See Sidonius Apollinaris Ep. .., ..; Isidore of Seville Etym. ..; Walafried Strabo ( – ) De exord. et increm. . On the matter, see Vogel  and .  Schibille  and : ; Iliades :  – . Potamianos :  –  and  –  identified the equinox as the focal point, but stated that also on the solstice a light ray illuminated the altar in Hagia Sophia.  On the liturgical schedule, see Taft ; McCluskey ; Potamianos :  – . The “third hour” when the main liturgy took place fluctuated due to the division of the day into twelve equal hours that were longer in summer and shorter in winter. According to de Blaauw : , in Rome the beginning of the third hour varied between : in Summer and : in Winter.

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In the illuminative scheme, the doors played little to no role. Adorned with curtains that marked them as thresholds and concealed the interior, the entrances were closed at the beginning of the Liturgy of the Believers.⁴⁶⁶ The gradual diminishing of window surface that began in the late fifth century, documented in Rome by Flavia Augusta Ladi, can be considered a movement from quantity to quality, as light came to be used in more subtle ways to underline the symbolism of a space.⁴⁶⁷ The process is best discernible in St. Catherine’s in Sinai, where the windows in the basilica commissioned by Justinian are included in the iconographic program, in order to help transmit a particular “visual theology of light”.⁴⁶⁸ The real light penetrating the windows became Divine Light through spatial association with the Divine Glory in the iconography. As pointed out by Elsner: The faculty of sight becomes in this context not merely a means for constructing the sense world but, more significantly, a way of constructing the path to the Divine (through light and contemplation) and a construction of the Divine itself (incarnate through light into the sense world).⁴⁶⁹

The quality of the light entering the church through the windows, a fundamental aspect in its apprehension and effect, was paramount in Late Antique ekphraseis. It has become clear in recent years that window glass was common, with literary and archaeological sources testifying to the rather diffuse use of glass panels of various colours.⁴⁷⁰ The thickness, degree of opacity, and strong colouration of the small panes indicate that the light they allowed to filter through was

 See Paulinus of Nola Carm. . on doors with veils. According to the Chronicon Paschale ., Emperor Constantius ( –) donated golden curtains for the outer doors of Hagia Sophia in Constantinople in  CE. On curtains in Late Antique churches, see Ripoll Lopez : – . The gates of Hagia Sophia and the Eufrasiana still retain the hooks on which the curtains hung.  Ladi :  –  and Tab. I and II. The process was also noticed by Brown : . The diminishing window surface might have been influenced also by climatic considerations, as a colder period known as the Vandal Minimum began in the sixth century cf. Deliyannis : .  Elsner and Wolf :  n. .  Elsner :  – .  Diocletian’s price edict from  CE set window glass at  denarii per pound and second quality glass at  denarii per pound cf. O’Hea : . On the price of window glass and glass mosaic in the edict, see Barag  and . Archaeological finds in Istanbul, Amorium, Sardis, Philippi, and Iasos testify to the range of colours of glass panels: dark brown, blue, light blue, olive green, green, aquamarine, red, yellow, golden, and transparent. See Dell’Acqua : ; Contardi : . At Nebo, in the church restored in , blue, green, yellow, brown, red, and black glass panes were installed. Extremely relevant for our study is the existence of dark red (hematinum: blood red) and milky white panes.

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Fig. 31. Mosaic decoration of the apse and arch of St. Catherine‘s in Sinai (ca. 548 – 65). Photo by CCA, Centro di Conservazione Archeologica – Rome.

diffuse.⁴⁷¹ A close reading of the sources indicates that, rather than sun rays, these windows produced what Nicolas Reveyron has aptly called an “ambiance lumineuse”.⁴⁷² The effect is described by Venantius Fortunatus:

 In  round window glass panels were unearthed near San Vitale’s apse (Museo Nazionale, Ravenna Inv. Nr.  – ), but Francesca Dell’Acqua :  –  has argued pertinently for a ninth-century dating, relating the window panes to the community of Benedictine monks that began to use the church in that period. I base my analysis on the fourth- to sixth-century glass fragments found around the Mediterranean. Particularly relevant due to the dating are those found in the sixth-century Museum Basilica in Philippi, currently at the Museum of Byzantine Culture in Thessaloniki. Variously coloured, these panes were cut into geometric panels connected with lead strips cf. Antonaras .

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Sol uagus ut dederit per stagnea tecta colorem, lactea lux resilit, cum rubor inde ferit. ⁴⁷³

Described by Late Antique poets as either reddish or golden, a haze substantiated by incense smoke enveloped these spaces.⁴⁷⁴ (see Fig. 27 & 38) The windows themselves were considered part of the decorative program and were credited with producing or retaining light.⁴⁷⁵ Rather than openings, the windows are described as luminous membranes that added to the beauty of the interior. Perceived as a form of metal, window glass was seen as similar to the glass mosaic and metallic decoration that were also light emitting. The impression left by written sources is one of perceptual continuity between mural decoration and fenestrated surface.⁴⁷⁶ While the former rayed light through the colours and the brightness of the materials, the selenite (lapis specularis) often used for window panes was held to produce light on its own, and multicoloured glass panes produced a floral effect.⁴⁷⁷ This perceptual habit is crucial, as it evinces the degree to which the cultural context influenced the perception of the Late Antique person.⁴⁷⁸ Venantius Fortunatus testified to the process, with the poet stressing that the ability to retain light was intentional and a key element in the design of the spaces: Prima capit radios uitreis oculata fenestris artificisque manu clausit in arce diem.

 Reveyron .  Venantius Fortunatus Carm. .. –  (ed. and trans. Reydellet : ) “Dès que le soleil, dans sa course, a jeté son éclat sur les toits d’étain, là où frappe le rougeoiement rebondit une lumière laiteuse.”  The haze was reminiscent of the cloud representing the Divine Presence in Moses’ tabernacle and Solomon’s temple cf. Ex. . – ; Kgs. . – . On incense and light, see Bouras and Parani :  – ; Pentcheva : .  Venantius Fortunatus Carm. .. –  (ed. and trans. Reydellet :  – ) “Tota rapit radios patulis oculata fenestris […] Tempore quo redeunt tenebrae, mihi dicere fas sit / mundus habet noctem, detinet aula diem.” / “Ouverte au jour par de larges baies, l’église tout entière capte les rayons, et ce que l’on admire au-dehors on l’a à l’intérieur. À l’heure où reviennent les ombres, si je puis ainsi parler, le monde est dans la nuit, le vaisseau retient le jour.”  On window glass perceived as metal, see Dell’Acqua  and Gregory of Tours Glor. Mart. . Sedlmayr : ; Günter :  ff; Schweizer :  noted that Late Antique window surface tended to match the visual effect of decorated wall surface.  See e. g. Isidore of Seville Etym. .. and . on selenite waxing and waning in luminosity along with the moon.  Indeed, few cases reveal as well as light does the influence the period eye/gaze/visuality has on perception.

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Cursibus Aurorae uaga lux laquearia conplet atque suis radiis et sine sole micat. ⁴⁷⁹ Candida sincero radiat haec aula sereno et si sol fugiat, hic manet arte dies. ⁴⁸⁰

The description of windows as a special kind of decorative panels characterised by luminosity rather than as openings is fundamental for understanding the perception of church space.⁴⁸¹ In the West, the gradual diminishing of window surface accompanied the transformation of church space into an enclave of sacredness in an otherwise uncertain world.⁴⁸² In the East, the flourishing of Byzantine culture avoided this dichotomy. Church space appeared as a reflection of heaven in both cases, relationship made visible through an elaborate dramaturgy of light.⁴⁸³ San Vitale and other sixth-century churches were at the crossroads of the two budding traditions, as ultimate expression of a process that invested Christian rituals with the capacity to transform the ontological and epistemic

 Venantius Fortunatus Carm. .. –  (ed. and trans. Reydellet : ) “Éclairée par des verrières, elle est la première à recevoir les rayons et, grâce à la main de l’artiste, elle a enfermé le jour dans son enceinte. La lumière qui erre au gré des courses de l’Aurore baigne ses lambris: elle étincelle de ses propres rayons sans le secours du soleil.”  Venantius Fortunatus Carm. .. –  (ed. and trans. Reydellet : ) “Cette nef éclatante rayonne d’une pure clarté et si le soleil s’enfuit, ici la lumière demeure par un effet de l’art.” The intentionality transpires also in Carm. .. –  (ed. and trans. Reydellet : ) “Haec tamen ingenio sunt aedificata perito, quo nihil egregius gloria laudis eget.” / “L’édifice a été construit avec un talent accompli qui ne laisse rien à desirer à la glorie la plus haute.” For other instances, see Roberts : .  In accordance with the idea that reflective materials emit light. E.g. Basil of Caesarea De Spiritu Sanctu . –  (trans. Elowsky : ) “When a sunbeam falls on a transparent substance, the substance itself becomes brilliant, and radiates light from itself.” See Barker : ; Schwarzenberg : ; Canuti :  – . The idea generated the Late Antique topos of praising lavishly decorated buildings for producing their own light. On the topos, see Barry .  In Gregory of Tours’ numerous references to windows, the bishop always pointed to them as the privileged, semi-transparent media through which the sacredness of the church interior pours outside and into the world but never the other way around. Whenever something is entering through the windows, it is an undesired intrusion of the mundane within the sacred space on the inside (birds, thieves, soldiers, rain). Concurrently, all that exits through the windows of the church is a reflection of the consecrated nature of its interior, whether it is miraculous light shining forth, or sarcophagi of unworthy persons being thrown out. On the process, see Ivanovici c.  The fragmentation of the light became an apt image for describing the oneness and multiplicity of the Holy Trinity from Dionysius on. Sunlight pouring in through the windows came to be addressed as indicating the interaction between the two dimensions. It was in this vein that middle Byzantine architecture came to rely on a complex dramaturgy of light. On the latter, see James :  ff; Potamianos ; Piotrowski .

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qualities of matter. The architecture of San Vitale reproduced heaven as imagined by contemporaries, as a place characterised by “a brightness and spaciousness beyond description.”⁴⁸⁴ Legitimising the ritual’s iconic pretensions, the light inside was equated with God’s presence. Apart from the amount, the colour of the light in churches was often addressed by Latin authors, who used the verb rutilare to describe it. The term, meaning “to shine with a red light”, indicates that the light was held to create a porphyry-like atmosphere.⁴⁸⁵ As shown by a recent study, the light sieving through coloured sixth-century glass panes retained its whiteness.⁴⁸⁶ It was, I believe, due to the redish decorative elements being perceived as the most luminous that Late Antique authors credited the light with a reddish hue. Holding purple to be the most luminous colour, they postulated a porphyry-like hue for the light characterising heaven and the church.⁴⁸⁷ The extensive use of golden mosaic made with an amber glassbed facilitated it. As noticed by restorers, the higher quality golden mosaic was placed on a reddish base, while for the less appreciated mosaic a glass tinted green was used. To the eyes of the Late Antique person, who was used to “reading” social status in the hues of one’s purple, the contrast between the green and amberbased tesserae was more obvious than it is to us today. It was the redness of the golden mosaic rather than the glass of the windows that tinted sunlight.⁴⁸⁸ The effect of natural light on the interior thus was threefold. It transformed the windows

 Gregory of Tours Hist. Franc. . (trans. Brehaut : ).  Venantius Fortunatus Carm. .. –  and .. – . Prudentius Perist. . –  (trans. Thompson :  – ) described the light inside St. Paul’s church in Rome: “He laid plates on the beams so as to make all the light within golden like the sun’s radiance at its rising.”; Paul the Silentiary described the light entering Hagia Sophia as “rosy” / “ruddy” crepuscular light cf. Descr. S. Soph.  –  “through fivefold openings pierced in its back it provides sources of light, sheathed in thin glass, through which, brilliantly gleaming, enters rosyankled Dawn.” and Descr. ambo.  –  “Throughout the space of the church shines the glory of each column set on its polished base, like a white cloud tinged by the ruddy rays of the sun rising above the horizon.” (trans. Mango [] :  – ). The light of the rising and the setting sun was considered similar to porphyry according to Aristotle On Colours A. The phenomenon left its traces in iconography where, according to Loerke : , the reddish cloud was one of the first images to depict δόξα in Late Antique Christian art. In the church of Sant’Agnese in Rome (ca. ), the inscription in the apse reads “uel qualem inter sidera lucem proferet irim purpureusque pauo ipse colore nitens.” / “Or [you could believe] this the sort of iris light dawn gives among the stars and a peacock gleaming with iridescent purple.” (trans. Thunø : ).  Schibille, Marii, Rehren .  See Venantius Fortunatus Carm. .. for “purpurea luce”.  In St. Catherine’s in Sinai, the lime plaster setting bed of the golden mosaic was painted red.

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into decorative panels; it generated a haze that gained a reddish/golden hue as it bounced off the mosaic; and it substantiated the Divine Presence upon its encounter with incense smoke.⁴⁸⁹ In San Vitale, the position of the windows appears to be intended to stress the qualities of the architecture and the decoration. The large openings reveal the intricacies of the architecture and stress the diverse character of the ambulatory in relation to the central octagon by giving to the concentric spaces a different luminosity. Other effects are difficult to ascertain as the original wooden roof truss in the ambulatory and galleries was replaced with groined vaults at some point in the building’s life, and the marble and stucco wall decorations have been lost. It is likely that the windows appeared as coloured, luminous membranes whose light interacted with the grey and red marble facing, the polychromy of the stucco, and possibly the decorated beams of the roof.⁴⁹⁰ In today’s light, tinted yellow by the vetri alabastrati installed in the twentieth century and bouncing off unadorned walls, the architecture is easier to observe, but the original effect is lost.⁴⁹¹ Placed on the tall drum, eight windows concentrate a large amount of light just under the cupola. Due to the central octagon’s height, the light rarely made it to the floor and it is correct to assume the existence of an incense cloud hovering just below the cupola during the sixth-century liturgy. Below, the floor level of the octagon received less light than the surrounding spaces but, as stressed by Gianni Tryantafillide, in such cases perception and measurement give different results. As the Greek scholar has argued, a person sitting under the dome in centralised churches often has the impression that he or she is in the most luminous space even though this is rarely the case.⁴⁹²

 The liturgy began, according to Dionysius Eccl. Hier. . (ed. PG .C), with the bishop incensing first the altar area and then the whole church. Narsai (ca.  – ) Liturgical Homilies stated that “The altar stands crowned with beauty and splendour, and upon it is the gospel of life and the adorable word [i.e. the cross]. The mysteries are set in order, the censers are smoking, the lamps are shining.” (quoted in Dendy : ). As in the Ashburnam Pentateuch, discussed below, the altar was associated with lights and incense. See Fig.  for the effect of the setting.  The latest fashion, attested to by St. Catherine’s and the poems of Fortunatus, was the painting of the ceiling panes and beams in bright colours. In Sinai, the beams are golden and red.  On the vetri alabastrati currently in San Vitale, see Verhoeven :  – .  Triantafillide . The increasing luminosity, noticed by Deichmann :  –  and :  –  has been contested for Hagia Sophia by Schibille b: . Basing her analysis on the real amount of light, Schibille b:  argued against the thesis according to which in these churches hierarchies of spaces were created through the amount of natural light. Nevertheless, measurement and perception register different effects, in the case of Late Antique churches the latter being further altered by the judging of materials and colours in terms of brightness.

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The presbytery and apse are each lighted by a triphora. The smaller one, placed on the wall between the apse and the presbytery’s vault, assures the lighting of the latter. The golden mosaic of the vault captures the natural light, converting it into golden, Divine Light. In the apse, the three large windows illuminate the entire ritual scene, providing a luminous screen against which those standing in the church could observe the liturgical drama. (see Fig. 3) Given the windows’ shape and the fairly accurate model held by Bishop Ecclesius in the mosaic, it can be assumed that, like the one discovered in Classe, transennae with rectangular panes closed the original windows, and that the round window panes unearthed in the twentieth century belong, as argued by Francesca Dell’Acqua, to a later phase. (see Fig. 37) Given the various hues and thickness of glass fragments from around the Mediterranean dated to the sixth century, with both aspects influencing the amount and quality of the light, it is difficult to estimate the windows’ exact effect on San Vitale’s space and decoration. If my reading of the written sources and interpretation of the archeological finds is correct, an abundant, diffuse light concentrated in the cupola and the presbytery characterised the original mise-en-scène, as opposed to sun-rays cutting through the interior. The general diffusion of natural light sustained the progressive, revelatory character of the experience. On the main processional axis, the luminous succession of the narthex, ambulatory, nave, presbytery, and apse reproduced the sequential structure of heaven; the same kind of experience we saw offered in mithraea. From the central octagon, the dynamic reversed, with the perspective offered by the relationship between the nave and the unfolding ambulatory and galleries denoting emanation. Lit differently from the central space, the surrounding ones evinced spaciousness, which, along with luminosity, was the mark of Late Antique heaven. The hierarchy of spaces based on luminosity made use not only of natural and artificial lighting, but also of decorative elements that in Late Antique society were considered light emitting. Apart from what the eye of the modern researcher distinguishes, another world of connotations and meanings was available to the Late Antique onlooker through the rhetoric of the materials. The textures and colours present in the space, judged by the sixth-century audience based on their reflectivity/brightness, supported the spatial succession generated by the volume/windows relationship, with materials placed on the main axis according to their imagined brightness.

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Fig. 32. Mosaic decoration of the intrados of the arch and of the presbytery ceiling of San Vitale in Ravenna (ca. 548). Photy by C. Raddato.

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II.1.5 The Decoration The quantity and especially the quality of the light present in the space was altered through the choice of decorative elements. Window glass, mosaic, marble, metallic paraphernalia, and lighting devices—all contributed to the heavenly atmosphere: Aedes celsa nitet, nec in sinistrum aut dextrum trahitur, sed arce frontis ortum proscipit aequinoctialem. Intus lux micat atque bratteatum sol sic sollicitatur ad lacunar, fuluo ut concolor erret in metallo. Distinctum uario nitore marmor percurrit cameram, solum, fenestras, ac sub uersicoloribus figuris uernans herbida crusta sapphiratos flectit per prasinum uitrum lapillos. ⁴⁹³ Emicat aula potens solido perfecta metallo, quo sine nocte manet continuata dies. inuitat locus ipse Deum sub luce perenni, gressibus ut placidis intret amando lares. ⁴⁹⁴ Quo super effusum rutilans intermicat aurum et spargunt radios pura metalla suos. Ingenio perfecta nouo tabulate coruscans artificemque putas hic animasse feras. ⁴⁹⁵

Often identified as a tendency to dematerialise the architecture, the combination of multiple openings and see-through decoration (undercut, lattice-like sculpture and reflective materials) was rather intended to spiritualise the structure.⁴⁹⁶ When addressed in relation to the rituals they were designed to complement, and considering their insistence on actualisation, the interiors of churches like  Sidonius Apollinaris Ep. .. –  (ed. Loyen : , trans. Davis-Weyer [] : ) “High stands the church in splendour, extending neither to right nor left, but with towering front looking towards the equinoctial sunrise. Within is shining light, and the gilding of the coffered ceiling allures the sunbeams golden as itself. The whole basilica is bright with diverse marbles, floor, vaulting and windows all adorned with figures of most various colour, and mosaic green as a blooming mead shows its design of sapphire cubes winding through the ground of verdant glass.”  Venantius Fortunatus Carm. .. –  (ed. Reydellet : ), trans. above.  Venantius Fortunatus Carm. .. –  (ed. Reydellet : ), trans. above. See Borsook  for Late Antique church inscriptions praising the luminosity of the decoration.  On dematerialisation, see Günter :  – ; Kleinbauer : ; Schibille : , b: . Schweizer :  referred to these decorated walls as “permeable Folie” (in German).

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Hagia Sophia and San Vitale appear to be intended to facilitate the identification of the interior with heaven. As in the Orthodox Baptistery, the purpose was to create a space suitable for both human and divine beings, and support the ritual’s claim to fuse the two dimensions. The crediting of various materials with the capacity to emit light drew on the Late Antique belief in their fluid ontological state. Indeed, the “deprogramming” recommended by Robert Ousterhout appears more necessary than ever when dealing with the perception of materials.⁴⁹⁷ Bearing social, political, religious, and even magical connotations, the rhetoric of the materials was a visual discourse on its own.⁴⁹⁸ The interpretative key can be found in encyclopaedic works such as Pliny the Elder’s (23 – 79 CE) Natural History or Isidore of Sevilla’s (ca. 560 – 636) Etymologies. While in Pliny’s time, the recognition of various marbles appears to have been an elitist activity, by Isidore’s time it had been popularised. A person’s capacity to identify each element with its provenance was promoted in Late Antiquity as a sign of culture.⁴⁹⁹ Bishops embraced the “jewelled style” as a statement of the Church’s new status, in a process studied in detail by Dominic Janes.⁵⁰⁰ Accommodating the architecture to the onlooker, the decoration strengthened through its luminosity the iconic pretension of the space: Aula dei claris radiat speciosa metallis. In qua plus fidei lux pretiosa micat. Pleno coruscate trinitas mysterio. ⁵⁰¹

Both texture and hue were appreciated by virtue of their relation to light. The favouring of brightness over other qualities was a characteristic of the “jewelled

 Ousterhout : , quoted above.  Among other qualities attributed to stones, Isidore of Seville mentions buoyancy, smell, taste, the capacity to preserve or corrode flesh, the capacity to produce a milky substance, prevention of drunkenness, and rejection of magic. On the meaning of metals, gems, and stones, see Hahn :  – .  Bradley :  claimed that in the time of Pliny, “Marble watching was a complex and highly sophisticated process that evoked a wide range of aesthetic, cultural and aethnographic associations.” For the perception of marble in Late Antiquity, and Byzantium, see Sodini ; Barry ; Pentcheva ; Kiilerich .  Janes :  “Society’s favourable response to Christianity brought such items and materials to the Church, thus enmeshing that religion in the value system of Roman society.”  The inscriptions in the apse of Ss. Cosmas and Damian in Rome (ca. ), respectively on the presbyterial arch of Paulinus’ basilica in Nola cf. Paulinus’ Ep. ..

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style”.⁵⁰² The transparent stones reflecting the light of God in John’s description of the heavenly temple (Rev. 21.18) were assimilated to red porphyry, which was considered “infused with the brilliancy of the sun’s warmth”.⁵⁰³ Golden glass mosaic, which, due to its structure, appeared to emit light, was also highly praised. The two materials often adorned the most sacred areas, while the rest of the spaces received less luminous textures. The perception of materials as luminous drew on their reflectivity as much as on cultural conditioning. As stressed by Michel Pastoureau, “C’est la société qui ‘fait’ la couleur, qui lui donne ses definitions et son sens, qui costruit ses codes et ses valeurs, qui organise ses pratiques et determine ses enjeux.”⁵⁰⁴ Consequently, it is imperative to rely on sources contemporary to the construction of the building when analysing the rhetoric of materials. For Late Antiquity, Isidore, who drew on a number of other writings, provides the immediate context. In San Vitale, the selection and placement of materials testify to the designers’ awareness of their illuminative connotations and desire to sustain, through the decoration, the luminous progression discernible in the architecture and lighting.

II.1.5.1 The Textures and Colours From what can be ascertained, the designers tended to associate each area with a material. These were placed in a sequence that went from less to more reflective, as one advanced from the main door towards the apse. Stucco was used in the narthex, marble in the ambulatory and nave, stone mosaic in the presbytery, and glass mosaic in the apse. The position and number of apertures stimulated the increase in reflectivity, which was further complicated by the chromatic element. Judging colours according to an imagined scale, the Late Antique viewer perceived the interior as a succession of increasingly luminous spaces. While in Hagia Sophia, the gradual increment in luminosity relied on the placement of the openings and the perception of the materials,⁵⁰⁵ in San Vitale a third aspect is added: the choice of iconographic motifs. Organised as a hierarchy of theopha James :  –  and :  – ; Pastoureau : . E. g. Pliny’s categorising of white marble according to its brightness as candidus, candidioribus, liuidius, and radiatio. See Maugan-Chemin :  – .  Philostratus the Elder Imag. (born ca.  CE) . (ed. and trans. Fairbanks :  – ).  Pastoureau : , cf. also Eco . On the perception of colour in general in the ancient and medieval world, see bibl. in Bradley :  – . In Late Antiquity colour had become a fundamental element in the enactment of enargeia cf. Clarke , probably due to the perception of colours as degrees of light. On purple, “the quintessential cultural artefact” cf. Bradley : , see Reinhold ; Longo .  See Schibille :  –  for Hagia Sophia.

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nies, the iconography in San Vitale contributes to the revelatory dimension. Furthermore, within the figurative decoration, the materials’ rhetoric generates a hierarchy between the depicted characters in which luminosity, sanctity, and importance overlap. Deprived now of its original polychromy, the effect of the stucco decoration is difficult to ascertain.⁵⁰⁶ The extant marble and mosaic allow for a more thorough analysis. “Symbolizing permanence, demonstrating enormous wealth and communicating power”,⁵⁰⁷ marble in Late Antiquity was appreciated for its shimmering surface. Its gleam was at times more cherished than that of glass mosaic.⁵⁰⁸ The Proconnesian facing of the walls, with its semi-translucent texture, was enlivened by the cipollino rosso that intercalated it. The contrast between the deep red of the cipollino and the grey of the Proconnesian, with one seemingly absorbing light and the other reflecting it, created a play that, like the Proconnesian floor with green bands in Hagia Sophia, was fascinating in its simplicity.⁵⁰⁹ The “gentle shimmer”⁵¹⁰ of the Proconnesian hypnotised with the complexity of its intricate patterns, and contrasted with a sober light the green and golden light emanating from the sanctuary.⁵¹¹ Separated by a short marble chancel, a porous membrane that allowed one to enjoy fully the lavish decoration and the liturgy, the area reserved for the clergy testifies to the designer’s intention to support the iconic dimension of the space through the choice of materials.⁵¹² Representing the created world, the presbytery is predominantly green. Decorated almost exclusively with stone mo-

 The stucco decoration is similar to that in the Basilica of Eufrasius in Poreč, where the original polychromy is still discernible in some areas. Bolman  proposed an effect similar to that visible in the recently restored church of the Red Monastery near Sohag.  Greenhalgh : .  Procopius of Caesarea De Aedif. .. – . As testified by the sixth-century hymn on the dedication of the church in Edessa “from its brightness, polished and white, light gathers in it like the sun.” (Another Sogitha , ed. and trans. McVey : ). On the luminosity of marble in Late Antique ekphraseis, see Schibille :  –  and : ; Barry ; Pentcheva ; Kiilerich . According to Schibille b: , Paul the Silentiary described the marbles in Hagia Sophia using nine adjectives that indicate their relation to light.  Schibille b:  noticed that in Paul the Silentiary’s ekphrasis, the colours are given as opposites. Once again, ekphrasis and church communicate in the same manner, testifying to their common purpose.  Paul the Silentiary Descr. S. Soph.  (trans. Mango [] : ).  In the upper-Adriatic, marble plaqued the walls only to the level of the pulvins while in the East it continued higher up the walls cf. Deichmann : . See Deichmann a: pl.  for a reconstruction of the wall decoration in San Vitale.  Some of the Proconnesian chancel screens currently in the Museo Nazionale in Ravenna are from San Vitale.

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Fig. 33. Bicolour marble decoration of one of the pillars in the nave of San Vitale in Ravenna (ca. 548).

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saic, the area is punctuated by the golden glass mosaic halos indicating the main Old Testament theophanies. The garden-like space reminiscent of Adamic Eden points to the continuous salvation of the world by associating the Old Testament manifestations with the Eucharist taking place on the altar at its centre. The theology of the Epistle to the Hebrews presented in the iconography, with its accent on sacrifice and the intermediation of Christ as High Priest, synthesises the relation between humanity and God, with the Eucharist presented as drawing on both sacrifices and theophanies. Covered exclusively in glass mosaic in luminous hues, the apse reproduced heaven. The light coming through the three large windows emerged golden as it travelled through the presbytery and into the nave. Golden mosaic and window surface created a screen of light against which believers looking contre-jour saw the figures of the clergy, and the depicted characters appear. The presence and materiality of the depicted and real characters was further altered by the thick incense smoke. The hues used in the three compositions in the apse generate in each of the scenes a luminous hierarchy of characters.⁵¹³ In a period when the texture and especially the colourfulness of one’s attire indicated his or her social position and wealth, the hierarchy of the characters in San Vitale’s iconography was readily accessible.⁵¹⁴ One’s share in the divine can be inferred from the amount of purple used for his or her attire, with the characters having more or less according to their proximity to God (or the emperors in the imperial panels). Bishop Ecclesius and the imperial couple seem almost to compete with Christ, with their depiction corroborating contemporary sources on the appreciation of bishops and emperors as embodiments of God. While on the social scene colour was equated with wealth and importance, in heaven, brightness indicated one’s position in relation to the source of light, with the Logos dressed in purple. The artists’ virtuosity was doubled by their awareness of the perceptual and cognitive processes at work in the act of seeing. The placement of metallic foil tesserae at an angle in order to reflect to the onlooker the light coming from the windows, the use of higher quality golden mosaic and mother-of-pearl for the halos of Christ and the emperors, and the intercalation of isolated silver tesserae in the golden background (which increased the overall reflectivity of the scene while maintaining the more appreciated golden hue) enhanced the visibility and luminosity of certain details and areas. These artifices testify to the care put into generating a visual discourse in which lumi According to Muscolino : , twelve colours in three to eight hues each were used in the mosaics.  As argued by Brown :  – , facelessness and colourlessness were equivalent in the period.

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nosity, prestige, and divinity overlapped.⁵¹⁵ Obvious and subtle associations were made through the choice of materials, the decoration’s luminous dimension translating the hierarchical structure of the cosmos and society as promoted by the Church and state under Justinian. The area of the clerical bench is problematic since the opus sectile currently in place is a modern reconstruction based on the setting in the basilica Eufrasiana in Poreč.⁵¹⁶ (See Figs. 3 & 43) From a single original opus sectile panel and a fragment of frieze that survived in the ambulatory, it can be inferred that the decoration contained various types of marble along with coloured glass and motherof-pearl, as it did in Poreč.⁵¹⁷ The restorers’ decision to imitate the situation across the Adriatic appears legitimate. If the restorers were correct in their placement of the porphyry roundels on the apsidal wall, the setting would have underlined both the area’s luminosity—porphyry being held to glitter “with a beauty that charms the heart”⁵¹⁸—as well as the iconic character of the clergy sitting on the bench. As in the seventh-century mosaics from Hagios Demetrios in Thessaloniki, where an architectural detail created the donors’ halos, in San Vitale the porphyry roundels functioned as monumentalised halos for the clergy.⁵¹⁹ Perhaps the cathedra also sustained, through shape and the rhetoric of materials, the iconicity of the bishop. The detail is present in Poreč, where Eufrasius received a red porphyry and golden glass halo, and two mother-of-pearl candlesticks through the decoration of the cathedra.⁵²⁰

 On the tilting of tesserae in San Vitale, see Fiori and Muscolino , pl. II; Fiori, Vandini, Manzzotti : . On the tilting of tesserae in sixth-century mosaics in general, see Borsook : ; on Hagia Sophia, see Schibille :  – . On St. Catherine’s in Sinai, see Miziołek : . On Poreč, see Terry and Maguire a:  – . On the differentiated use of golden mosaic, see Muscolino a:  n.  and b: ; Alberti and Muscolino :  – . The differentiated use of materials was present also in Poreč cf. Terry and Maguire a:  –  who also discussed the light effects, pp.  – .  See Leclercq . On the one of Eufrasius, see Terry :  –  and :  – .  Longo and Oddono  identified twenty-three types of marble in San Vitale.  Paul the Silentiary Descr. S. Soph.  (trans. Mango [] : ). On porphyry’s luminosity see also Pliny Nat. Hist. ... On the monumentalised halos in Poreč, see below.  The sunthronon placed the living clergy in a position similar to that of the apostles in the concilium apostolorum while sending to Rev. .. It is relevant that in the Lechaion basilica in Greece the clergy had individual niches in the sunthronon, a feature that testifies to their iconicity since “the niche and its architectural decoration formed a sanctuary for the deceased, much as temples formed sanctuaries for gods” cf. Thomas : . The sculpted or depicted naiskos or aedicula was a sign of sanctity cf. Hornbostel-Huttner :  ff.  On the opus sectile and sunthronon, see Deichmann a:  and  – ; Ricci :  ff.

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Fig. 34. Seventh-century mosaic showing St. Demetrius with donors and/or clergy members. Church of St. Demetrius, Thessaloniki. From The Yorck Project.

To the Late Antique person, who took pride in the ability to identify the most exotic of stones, the decoration of the presbytery and apse spoke volumes. The colours and their undertones, the textures and contrasts, all translated into a visual discourse that indicated the wealth, knowledge, and imperial connections of the committente, the virtuosity of the artisans, and, of course, the aptness of the scene as an image of heaven. The golden light that characterises heaven in most contemporary descriptions shone forth into the space of the believer, emanating, as promised by John’s Rev. 21.23, from the very body of Christ. Dressed in San Vitale in the epitome of luminosity, purple,⁵²¹ and contrasted by the blue globe and the two white-clad archangels, Christ appeared at the apex of the luminous progression that began in the narthex. In the logic of the decoration, His image was the very source of the light present in the church. Perceived in terms of brightness, the iconography, decoration, architecture, and even clergy, who

 See Pliny Hist. Nat. .. on purple.

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Fig. 35. Episcopal cathedra from the basilica Eufrasiana in Poreč (ca. 560).

through their vestments shared in the aesthetic of light that dominated the setting, seemed to emanate from the person of Christ. Along with the episcopal cathedra, the focus of the space in San Vitale was the altar. Placed on verde antico legs, material considered by Pliny the Elder as “more brilliant in colour than any other [marble]”,⁵²² the altar had an alabaster slab of impressive size and thinness (2.3 meters x 1.2 meters x 8 cm).⁵²³ Paul the

 Pliny Hist. Nat. . (trans. Bostock and Riley : ).  About the alabaster slab Girolamo Fabri ( – ) wrote: “Altare maggiore composto tutto di finissimo alabastro orientale, a cui appressandosi dalla parte opposta un Lume, chiaramente risplende, e traspare non altrimenti, che se fosse sottilissima carta.”, quoted in Fioren-

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Fig. 36. Mosaic decoration of the presbytery and apse of San Vitale in Ravenna (ca. 548). Moses receiving the Law and at the Burning Bush is shown on the walls of the presbytery. Photo by C. Raddato.

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Silentiary’s ekphrasis of the Hagia Sophia ambo attests to the Late Antique appreciation of alabaster/onyx. The semi-translucency, apparent softness, and brightness received praise in extenso from Justinian’s court poet. According to a later source, the altar in San Vitale generated an almost magical effect as the polychrome decoration reflected on its mirror-like surface: “et aram ex alabastro tam lucidam, ut specula instar imagines referat.”⁵²⁴ Of the original ciborium, only the four columns remain, now placed against the piers flanking the entrance to the presbytery.⁵²⁵ While three of the columns are of Thessaly green, a cherished type of marble similar to green porphyry, the fourth is green Egyptian breccia, which was one of the rarest and most appreciated stones. Called lapis hecatontalithos by the Romans, the stone-of-a-hundred-stones is a conglomerate of porphyry, basalt, and quartz that usually occurred in small pieces. Of the most appreciated kind, the column in San Vitale is unique.⁵²⁶ Rare is also the small plaque of marmor sagarium found in the opus sectile strip; a stone out of which Justinian had his sarcophagus made. It appears that San Vitale’s presbyterial area originally had lavish marble decoration, similar to that found in Eufrasius’ basilica in Poreč, where according to Ann Terry all known types of marble appeared.⁵²⁷ The wealth of the Church and the worldwide spread of the Empire were represented through a display of marble which, as testified by Isidore and Paul the Silentiary, opened an intricate world of associations and motifs, along with a discourse on materialised luminosity.⁵²⁸ The rhetoric of the materials in San Vitale testifies to the designers’ desire to create “a phenomenology of enchantment”.⁵²⁹ The selection of materials influenced the perception of both the space in general and its particular details as luminous. The stucco, marble, stone mosaic, glass mosaic, and mother-ofpearl generated an obvious luminous progression, rendered complex by the favouring of more or less “luminous” hues inside each category of material. In the present day, at the hour of the liturgy, an almost material golden light occupies the sanctuary in San Vitale. The effect is due in part to the use of yeltini and Orioli : . Unearthed in , the slab still had smoke traces on the bottom testifying to the practice. On the altar, see Deichmann a: ; Sotira :  – .  Ambrogio Traversari ( – ) Latinae epistolae (quoted in Verhoeven : ).  The original ciborium was dismantled in  cf. Deichmann a: . On the columns, see Jäggi : .  Fiorentini and Orioli :  – ,  – .  Terry .  Schibille :  “Paul the Silentiary’s main concern was the interaction of the marble surfaces with light and the vividness and patterning of the individual marbles.”  Isar : .

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low-tinted windows. Late Antique sources testify to the presence of the golden light of dawn, an element presented as reminiscent of heaven. Dressed exclusively in purple, the main character present in the iconography, the Logos in San Vitale and the Virgin in Poreč, appeared as the very source of the golden light (see Figs. 36 & 42). The textures and hues of the materials, along with the display of the windows, created the impression that the light decreased as it progressed from the apse towards the main door. This sequence would have been more evident to the Late Antique person as it drew not so much on the amount of light, as it did on its quality and association with certain materials and colors whose perception as luminous was culturally conditioned.

II.1.5.2 Metal Paraphernalia and Artificial Lights Countless other lights, hanging on twisted chains, does the church of ever-changing aspect contain within itself; some illumine the aisles, others the center or the east and west, others shed their bright flame at the summit. Thus the bright night smiles like the day and appears herself to be rosy-ankled…⁵³⁰

Paul the Silentiary’s description of the nocturnal illumination of Hagia Sophia testifies to the lighting as “a space-organizing principle.”⁵³¹ As in the poems of Venantius Fortunatus, light appears to be the prime enlivening element, with the volume being carved out as light bounced off the decoration. Along with the marble and mosaic surfaces, the metallic elements represented an important part of the lighting scheme. Chancel screens, ciboria, altars, and cultic utensils clad with silver, gold, and jewels are recurrently praised in ekphraseis as light sources. The Roman Liber Pontificalis and Paul the Silentiary’s poem on Hagia Sophia, along with inventories and ecclesiastical treasures, give us an idea of the typical setting and its impact. The metallic decoration to which, as argued, the Late Antique person added silver and gold mosaic surfaces as well as the glass windowpanes, appeared concentrated in areas with ritual relevance.⁵³² The situation reported for Hagia Sophia, with the entire presbyterial area covered in silver, is difficult to ascertain for other contexts, but inventories indicate that even parish churches could afford at least a few silver lighting devices and an altar covered with silver.⁵³³

 Paul the Silentiary Descr. S. Soph.  ff (trans. Mango [] : ).  Isar : .  See the difference in artificial illumination between the nave and sacristy of the Lateran basilica in the L.P. . – .  For Hagia Sophia, see Paul the Silentiary Descr. S. Soph. , ,  ff,  ff. On inventories in general, see Caseau . Of the  kg of silver, a “nearly complete liturgical furnish-

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Fig. 37. Mosaic panels in the apse of S. Vitale in Ravenna (ca. 548). Above, Christ as the Logos, flanked by angels, St. Vitalis and the committente Ecclesius. Below, a Byzantine emperor with courtiers and clerics, Bishop Maximian is indicated by an inscription.

ings of a single well-endowed church” in the time of Justinian cf. Boyd : , a large part is

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For San Vitale, the lavishness of the vasa sacra is attested by the mosaics showing gospel covers, crosses, cups, and censers in precious metals and encrusted with jewels. Extant pieces such as the cross of Emperor Justin II (565 – 74), preserved at the Lateran, allow us to gauge their visual impact, while written sources testify to their luminosity inside churches such as San Vitale.⁵³⁴ Luminous foci, the metallic paraphernalia concentrated the attention of believers during the ritual, with their light stressing the relevance of certain areas and people. The jewelled gospels and equally adorned monumental crosses in particular seem to have held a special place in the mise-en-scène, with them pointing out the iconic character of the bishop. The Christic character of the latter was underlined visually through his association with the cross and gospel book in manners reminiscent of the portraits of Christ.⁵³⁵ The altar, which was the focus of the ritual, was usually either covered in silver or adorned with rich tablecloths.⁵³⁶ Nevertheless, in the case of San Vitale, the effect of the alabaster slab might have been preferred. Under Bishop Victor (538– 45), the Ravennate cathedral received a new silver ciborium weighting a tonne. Later, Bishop Maximian (546– 56) donated precious tablecloths for the altar and a large golden cross encrusted with aquamarine, amethyst, carnelian, and emerald.⁵³⁷ The silk altar cloths were white, purple, or golden, and bore inscriptions and complex iconographies, similar to the dress the empress wears in the San Vitale panel. The metallic and jewelled surfaces, enlivened by both natural and artificial light, created a magnificent spectacle that the regular person could only experience during the liturgy. It is likely that San Vitale too had similar, if not more precious utensils, as indicated by Julianus Argentarius’ 26,000 solidi, and the mosaics that show the imperial contribution to the church’s endowment.⁵³⁸

represented by twelve large polycandela. Each holding between twelve and sixteen lights, the devices were produced in Constantinople, probably by a single workshop cf. Boyd : .  On vasa sacra in Ravenna, see Rizzardi . On their general effect of causing fear and astonishment, see e. g. Gregory of Tours. Virt. Jul.  and Glor. Mart. .  Ivanovici .  On altars covered in silver during the period, see Boyd :  – . Whether the tomb of St. Vitalis was marked by an altar and/or ciborium in the sixth century is unknown; with the earliest attestation of an altar dating to the beginning of the fourteenth century. On the memoria, see Deichmann a: . On the altar, see Ricci : . See the discussion in Verhoeven :  – .  Agnellus L.P.R. . – , . – . On vestes, see Matthiae : .  The bishops too probably donated rich liturgical vessels to San Vitale in order to assure the connection between their person/office and the church, which, after all, had been paid for by a layman. The imperial panels indicate that the imperial family also contributed to the church’s precious vessel dowry, a known practice in the period.

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Fig. 38. Altar of St. Catherine in Sinai (ca. 548 – 65). Photo by R.S. Nelson.

The stones of the altar and ciborium show that San Vitale had liturgical furnishings of the highest quality, made of the most reflective and appreciated materials. Parts of the altar and ciborium were most likely covered in silver or gold,

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with an interesting detail being Agnellus’ statement that the original chancel in the chapel to the right of the presbytery was originally bronze and not marble.⁵³⁹ Perhaps, as in Hagia Sophia, the chancel screen was initially covered with metallic foil or, more likely, the transennae were painted in metallic colours that had subsequently worn off.⁵⁴⁰ Due to their reflective quality, the metallic and jewel-encrusted objects were described as light sources and thus associated with a category of cultic paraphernalia whose symbolic value and ritual importance grew in Late Antiquity. Used to enhance the symbolism of liturgical services already by the third century, lights became increasingly important in the mise-en-scène.⁵⁴¹ The cost of the devices and their maintenance meant lighting was a symbol of a donor’s wealth, and Constantine’s donations further strengthened their symbolism by adding an imperial aura.⁵⁴² The allocation of one-third of church revenues to illumination,⁵⁴³ as well as the creation of the specialised category of ceroferarii / acolythi,⁵⁴⁴ testify to its ritual and symbolic importance. Justinian’s law that imposed the completion of the lighting system before the dedication of the church consecrated the fundamental role of the lights in church design.⁵⁴⁵ I argue that it was due to light’s role in the process of “erosion of the distinction between metaphorical and physical”⁵⁴⁶ that it became central in the period. The light’s immateriality favoured its assimilation to the Divine Glory, with its theophanic dimension recurrently attested by miracles occurring “in contemplatione flammae.”⁵⁴⁷

 Agnellus L.P.R. .  On some of the transennae in the Museo Nazionale in Ravenna, dated to the sixth century, golden metallic paint can still be discerned.  See the evolution in Dendy .  L.P. . For the growing costs of the illumination in Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages, see Fouracre ; Palazzo .  Canon  of the First Council of Braga from  established the three-way division of Church revenues. See Dendy : .  Their role in the period is discussed by Isidore of Seville Etym. ..  Novellae  proem. ad c.  “Nam non leuis est ista temeritas si sine luminariis […] tamquam domus priuate, ita consecretur ecclesia.” (quoted in Dendy :  n. ). See Onasch : .  de Nie : , . In Late Antiquity, symbolic and physical light merged in what Aalen :  has called a “geistiger Realismus.”  Gregory of Tours Virt. Mart. .. The sanctity of the flame extended to the oil cf. e. g. Venantius Fortunatus Vita Mart. . –  and the glass cup cf. e. g. Gregory of Tours Virt. Mart. .. See O’Hea :  –  on the derivative sanctity of glass, and Janes :  on that of metal.

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While certain lights were associated with particular celebrations or liturgical moments and had a symbolic surplus,⁵⁴⁸ the overall illuminative setting attested to a church’s wealth and the patron saint’s power. Of particular importance were the seven candlesticks placed before or next to the altar. Mentioned in the L.P. 34.11 and later sources, these associated altars with the setting in the heavenly temple as described by John in Rev. 1 and 4.⁵⁴⁹ Casting their light on the altar and the objects placed on it, the seven candles had an essentially apocalyptic/ revelatory character, evincing the scene as a reflection of heaven. Votive donations par excellence in Late Antiquity, the lights stood as visual testimony of the holy patron’s capacity to intermediate divine favours, their number growing as believers returned to give thanks.⁵⁵⁰ In Justinian’s time, one could thus appraise a shrine’s power and the local clergy’s wealth with a single glance by the richness of its artificial illumination.⁵⁵¹ Nothing is known about the artificial lighting system in San Vitale. The hole piercing the top of the tubi fittili cupola pertained to the use of a chandelier.⁵⁵² Other holes piercing the walls are impossible to relate with certainty to the sixth-century. The lavishness of the decoration, the imperial dimension of the iconography, and the discrepancy between the 26 000 solidi and the extant elements, recommend for San Vitale an illumination richer than that of the regular Western church, yet less impressive than that of Hagia Sophia. While Paul the Silentiary minutely describes the latter in his ekphrasis, the information found in the Roman Liber Pontificalis indicates the illumination of churches in the West.⁵⁵³ Corroborated by archaeological finds and extant inventories from

 Like those accompanying the gospel (cf. Isidore of Seville Etym. .) or the Paschal candle (cf. Ps.-Germanus of Paris Expositio brevis antique liturgiae gallicanae PL .).  See the discussion of the sources in Dendy :  – .  While fairly affordable, silver lamps allowed one to contribute to this fundamental aspect of the Late Antique church’s appeal, the luminous manifestation of the saint’s power. On prices and affordability of silver objects in Late Antiquity, see Leclerq :  –  and Mundell Mango : . Severus of Antioch († ) Hom.  held that even the poorest members of his congregation could afford to donate some silver.  E. g. Gregory of Tours Glor. Mart.  (trans. Van Dam : ) “In this crypt there is a great brightness, which I think indicates the merits of the martyrs.” See also Cesarius of Arles Serm. . and Venantius Fortunatus Carm. .. By this time, the luminosity of cultic spaces attracted believers cf. Venantius Fortunatus Carm. .. – .  A hole  cm in diameter in the cupola with traces from rubbing cords cf. De Angelis d’Ossat : ; Deichmann a: .  On Hagia Sophia, see the detailed discussion in Schibille :  –  and the tentative reconstructions by Fobelli and Cesaretti .

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around the Mediterranean, the Liber Pontificalis information attests to the importance attributed to lighting devices, as well as to their typological uniformity during the period.⁵⁵⁴ Unfortunately, the information on the sixth century is less detailed than for previous centuries, and extant inventories and treasures are all from outside of Italy. It is, I argue, in two manuscript illuminations found in the Ashburnam Pentateuch that the lighting system of Western Late Antique churches is shown. The images provide inestimable testimony on the manner in which well-endowed churches in the West were illuminated, corroborating the information offered by other sources. Formerly considered to be of Spanish or North African origin, the manuscript was recently dated to the sixth century by Dorothy Verkerk, who argued for a Roman or Roman-influenced origin.⁵⁵⁵ Of particular interest for my study are two illuminations found on fol. 76r and 127v, which show the dedication of the tabernacle of Moses and the temple of Solomon, respectively. As noted by Verkerk, the artist “makes no attempt to reproduce the tabernacle and its furnishings painstakingly described in Exodus”⁵⁵⁶ and depicts both as churches. According to Verkerk, the depiction of the two structures as Late Antique churches established a typological relation between Old Testament and Christian cultic buildings. As in Late Antique mosaics showing Bellerophon donning anachronistically the brightly coloured costume of Late Roman potentates, the depiction of the Tabernacle and the Temple adorned with those elements that signified sanctity (the lights, censers, precious draperies, and altar cloths) assured their perception as sacred by a Late Antique audience.⁵⁵⁷ The elements shown in the illuminations are well attested in Late Antique material culture. The typology of the lamps, the patterns on the curtains, and especially an altar cloth similar to that present in the mosaics in San Vitale, argue for the relevance of the depictions.⁵⁵⁸ The placement of hanging lights between the columns, the use of candlesticks near the altar, as well as the hanging of jewelled round chandeliers or votive crowns above the altar, are all practices corroborated by written testimonies. An interesting detail discernible in the two scenes is the association of the doors and altar with censers. While their presence

 On the information found in the L.P., see Russo :  – ; Pavolini ; Geertman . From Late Antiquity, some twenty inventories and twelve ecclesiastical treasures survive. See Mundell Mango :  and Caseau .  Verkerk : , contra Weitzmann :  – ,  – . See also Verkerk .  Verkerk :  – .  On Bellerophon, see Brown : .  On the typology of Late Antique glass lamps, see Uboldi  and Saguí . On altar cloths, see Porta :  – .

Fig. 39. Manuscript illumination showing the dedication of the Tabernacle by Moses and Aaron. The Ashburnam Pentateuch, MS nouv. acq. lat. 2334, fol. 76r. Bibliotheque nationale de France.

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Fig. 40. Manuscript illumination showing the dedication of the Temple in Jerusalem by Solomon. The Ashburnam Pentateuch, MS nouv. acq. lat. 2334, fol. 127r. Bibliotheque nationale de France.

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Fig. 41. Abel and Melchizedek sacrificing to God. Mosaic scene from the presbytery of San Vitale in Ravenna (ca. 548).

next to the entrances can be related to the olfactory marking of the threshold, with their perfume attesting to entering heaven, in the sanctuary, their smoke substantiated the light emitted by the lamps.⁵⁵⁹ (see Figs. 27 & 38) The flickering lights interacted with the reflective elements in the decoration, creating a sidereal effect that Late Antique authors appreciated. The effect enlivened the decoration and made the entire setting appear animated. In the words of Venantius Fortunatus: Sacra sepulchra tegunt Bibiani argentea tecta, unianimis tecum quae Placidina dedit. Quo super effusum rutilans intermicat aurum et spargunt radios pura metalla suos.

 On incense in the Late Antique liturgy, see Ashbrook Harvey ; Roch . On incense smoke fleshing out the Divine during the ritual, see Bouras and Parani :  – ; Pentcheva : .

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Ingenio perfecta nouo tabulata coruscant artificemque putas his animasse feras. ⁵⁶⁰

As in the case of the “Moses cross” from Sinai, lights were at times part of the decoration of liturgical objects, and created luminous effects that added to their appeal.⁵⁶¹ Detached from natural rhythms through the around-the-clock illumination, the space inside the church reproduced the “perpetual brightness of unquenchable light”.⁵⁶² According to Dionysius, the lamps and odours present in churches appeared as heavenly manifestations to all but the mystagogue, with the effect stimulating the fusing of the visible with the invisible.⁵⁶³ The light of the candles and lamps, as well as that bouncing off the metallic and jewelled surfaces, intermediated humanity’s contact with the divine inside Late Antique churches by substantiating the Divine Presence.⁵⁶⁴

II.1.5.3 The Figurative Decoration A central issue of Christian theology in the period leading to Iconoclasm, the ability to represent transcendence was, I believe, one of the main concerns of the designers of San Vitale, St. Catherine, and Hagia Sophia.⁵⁶⁵ The difficulty stemmed from the belief in the animated character of cultic art. The “inhabitation, possession, and manipulation”⁵⁶⁶ of cultic artefacts by the divine, a common Late Anti-

 Venantius Fortunatus Carm. .. –  (ed. Reydellet : ), trans. above, cf. also Carm. .. – . See also Paulinus of Nola Carm. . – , . ff and Prudentius Cath. . – .  See Weitzmann and Ševčenko  on the Sinai cross that has spikes for candles on its arms, like the one depicted in the catacomb of Ponziano in Rome. Hunter Crawley b analysed a bronze lamp in the Benaki Museum and concluded that the cross-shaped device on top cast at least six crosses as both light and shadow on nearby surfaces and possibly on the incense smoke surrounding it. On luminous crosses, see Frolow :  –  and Hahn :  – .  Paulinus of Nola Carm. . (trans. Walsh : ).  Dionysius Cael. Hier. . (ed. PG .CD).  The manner in which the space looked during the nocturnal services requires an analysis of the kind I did in the first section. Since too many aspects regarding the illumination system and the decorative program have been lost, I will not attempt to do so for San Vitale. One relevant aspect is that Paul the Silentiary Descr. S. Soph. , in his description of the nocturnal illumination in Hagia Sophia, mentions that the setting created the impression of a nocturnal sun dominating the space. The symbolic horizon thus was the same as in the case of the Baptistery.  On representing God, see Peers : .  Peers : , cf. also Kitzinger : ; Cameron :  – ; Cox Miller :  – .

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que belief, forced bishops to find a visual expression of God that would avoid idolatry. The figurative decoration occupied a special place in the overall program. Held in the sixth century to be dynamic presences which both reproduced the essence of the subject and projected it towards the onlooker, cultic images intermediated the contact between heaven and earth.⁵⁶⁷ Recurrent in written sources regarding cultic images and their effect on believers, enargeia synthesised the phenomenon, with the term describing both luminosity and liveliness. The paradox of the “empty figures”⁵⁶⁸ that managed not only to educate the rustici, but also stir something like a divine zeal in them, was closely related to the images’ medium and the extensive use of bright colours and glass mosaic that catalysed their luminosity.⁵⁶⁹ The dynamic character of the mosaic, whose appearance changed along with the lighting conditions, contributed to the perception of the depictions as containers of an active principle. Venantius, again, is our most relevant reference: Illic expositos fucis animantibus artus uiuere picturas arte reflante putas. Sol uagus ut dederit per stagnea tecta colorem, lactea lux resilit, cum rubor inde ferit. Ire redire uides radio cristpante figuras atque lacunar agit quod maris unda solet. ⁵⁷⁰ Nunc placet aula decens, patulis oculata fenestris, quo noctis tenebris clauditur arce dies. Lucidius fabricam picturae pompa perornat, ductaque qua fucis uiuere membra putes. ⁵⁷¹

 On the assimilation of the image with the depicted person, see Ladner ; Peers : .  Paulinus of Nola Carm. . –  (ed. Schlosser : , trans. Cox Miller : ) “Qui uidet haec uacuis agnoscens uera figuris, Non uacua fidam sibi pascet imagine mentem.” / “the person who looks at these [paintings] and acknowledges the truth within these empty figures [uacuis figuris] nurtures his believing mind with representations by no means empty.”  On the images’ effect, see Paulinus of Nola Carm. . – ; Nilus of Sinai Ep. .; Maximus the Confessor (ca.  – ) PG .AB.  Venantius Fortunatus Carm. .. –  (ed. and trans. Reydellet : ) trans. above, cf. also Carm. .. – .  Venantius Fortunatus Carm. .. –  (ed. and trans. Reydellet : ) “Maintenant le beau vaisseau nous charme, ouvert au jour par de larges baies, là dans les ténèbres de la nuit, le jour est enfermé dans la haute salle. Une suite de peintures orne plus lumineusement l’édifice et leur tracé fait croire que les corps vivent par les couleurs.”, cf. also Carm. .. –  (ed. Reydellet : ) “picta nitent”. On “flashing forth” through colours and texture, see Cyril of Alexandria Ep.  and Venantius Fortunatus Carm. .. – . See Kessler .

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As attested by Agathias Scholasticus (ca. 532– 80) and others, the verisimilitude of the rendition, the liveliness of the textures and colours, and the tactile quality of sight made cultic images appear capable of substantiating the presence of their referent and of imprinting its features on the onlooker.⁵⁷² Traditionally considered a way to differentiate Christian saints from naturalistically depicted pagan gods, a hieratic manner of representation that appears in Christian art beginning with the sixth century, both symbolised the new, iconic anthropological paradigm and synthesised the new decorative style’s capacity to actuate through enargeia rather than perspective. Far from being perceived as abstract, the hieratic manner of depiction was meant to transmit a person’s relation to the Holy Spirit. Cohabitation with the Spirit rendered one statuesque, with immobility attesting to detachment from the body. The process is best discernible in contemporary lives of stylite saints.⁵⁷³ Synthesising the immobility that likened a person to a statue, hieratism facilitated the association of the depicted person to this intercessional paradigm.⁵⁷⁴ As in the famous sixth-century icon of the Virgin from Sinai, in San Vitale, naturalism and hieratism were simultaneously used. The former was used to depict the scenes shown in the presbytery, while the heavenly beings depicted in the apse were rendered in a static manner.⁵⁷⁵ This selective use of hieratism points

 Agathias, quoted in the Greek Anthology . (trans. Mango [] : ), said that the image of the Archangel Michael “represented the invisible, the incorporeal chief of the angels in the semblance of his form […] the mortal who beholds the image directs his mind to higher contemplation. His veneration is no longer distracted: engraving within himself the [archangel’s] traits, he trembles as if he were in the latter’s presence. The eyes encourage deep thoughts, and art is able by means of colours to ferry over [to its object] the prayer of the mind.”  The Stylite saints made themselves living icons, granting access to the divine through their mortified bodies and their material context. Theodoret of Cyrrhus (ca.  – ) Historia Religiosa pro. . –  previously referred to ascetics as “living images and statues”. On this, see Brown :  n. ; Francis .  On “dramatic immobility” in the later Empire and its iconic connotations, see MacMullen :  –  and Cox Miller :  – . MacMullen has shown how in Late Antiquity the emperors and their entourage consciously presented themselves in the manner of statuary groups, producing tableaux vivants. The poise of the characters shown in the imperial panels in San Vitale captured this particular stance that indicated one’s rapprochment to the divine sphere.  The same dynamic appears later in Hosios Loukas and Daphni cf. Piotrowski : . In the early fifth-century Bohairic Life of Pachomius  (trans. Golitzin : ), the ascetic has a vision in the church, seeing “a large icon, like a large picture wearing a crown […] Before the icon were two great and very august archangels, motionless and contemplating the Lord’s image.” God shows himself as an icon, immobile, and the angels are also characterised by motionlessness.

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to its specific meaning. Scholarly surprise to the fact that Byzantines continued to praise hieratic depictions using the vocabulary developed for naturalistic art can be explained through the fact that, 1) static depictions of holy people did reproduce the manner in which these behaved, and 2) lifelikeness of depictions was indicated by the luminosity of the materials rather than by the three-dimensionality of the representation. As texts regarding imperial behaviour in Late Antiquity attest, emperors and their entourage displayed themselves as tableaux vivants. Adopting an immobility that applied to that of statues and stressed their iconicity, emperors appeared as living statues of the divine. Representations such as those in San Vitale reference the stance adopted by the imperial family. Details of the imperial panels which reproduce closely the en vogue trends in both fashion and decoration—the columns adorned with jewels are similar to those used in St. Polyeuktos, the fountain is similar to the one found in Diocletian’s palace in Split, while written sources attest to the use of the decorative patterns and iconographies present on the vestments of the characters—testify to the realism of the rendition. Furthermore, the medium of the depiction instilled meaning into the mural. Indeed, with brightness as the ultimate symbol of liveliness rather than tridimensionality, the portraits rendered in a hieratic manner but using bright, reflective materials, appeared lifelike.⁵⁷⁶ The rendition of these immobile characters using textures and hues held to be luminous gave enargeia to the reproduction, with the dynamic character of the glass mosaic in relation to light replacing perspective as indication of naturalism. Furthermore, considered luminous, the colours/textures reproduced the light usually associated with sanctity, adding to the liveliness of the setting. The life they reproduced was that of heaven in which the beings were characterised by luminosity. The manner in which the materials were used vis-à-vis the light reproduced in diurnal context the effect we saw in the Orthodox Baptistery, where the whitegolden apostles were substantiated through the contrast with the dark blue background. The static, flattened but brightly coloured characters appear to float in the space between the onlooker and the golden background due to the staccato effect produced by the contrast between them and the golden background. De-

 Discussing the depiction of Justinian, Theodora, and their imperial entourage on the Chalke gate in Constantinople, Procopius De Aedif. .. –  (trans. Dewing :  – ) noted that “This spirit is expressed by the cubes of the mosaic, which by their colours depict exultation on their very countenances.” Discussing Fortunatus’ description of church interiors, Roberts / :  pointed out that “In the two cases, the cathedrals in Nantes and Tours, the animating effect is attributed specifically to the colors (fuci) of the images, but both contexts make it clear that the light that floods the basilicas is the essential condition for the animation through the colors of the figures.”

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tached from the mosaic, these mural icons float imponderabe in the space of the church. The framing technique, the dynamic between naturalism and hieratism, the contrast between hues, and between reflective and opaque textures favoured interaction with the onlooker, making the images advance into the space in front.⁵⁷⁷ Together, the iconography and the rendition stimulated “the real emergence of devotional reality into the realm of the viewer […] the suggestion of real presence and eventually the possibility of a true devotional synthesis of the actual and the virtual, of the viewer and the viewed.”⁵⁷⁸ Consequently, the same effect as in the Baptistery was reached through different artifices. The perfect example of iconography used in concordance with architecture and decoration to produce a theophanic effect is St. Catherine’s in Sinai. As shown by Coleman and Elsner, the Transfiguration scene depicted in the apse stood at the end of a hierarchy of theophanies. The staging of the space and decoration rendered the scene not the image of a vision, but the vision itself.⁵⁷⁹ At the end of a long pilgrimage that gradually built the expectation of a theophanic experience, the apse placed the Transfiguration in a hierarchical relationship with previous manifestations. Moses’ visions were subordinated to the New Testament metamorphosis through the spatial display of the scenes and the position of the windows. Lit by a hanging chandelier, the golden mosaic showing the Transfiguration emitted a light qualitatively different from that coming from the windows with which the Moses theophanies were associated. Furthermore, unlike the rest, the light in the apse did not wane at night.⁵⁸⁰ In San Vitale and in the basilica of Eufrasius in Poreč, the theophanic hierarchy is also present. Indeed, the iconography in these churches corroborates the gradual character of the disclosure enacted through the architecture, lighting, and decoration. While also transmitting a message of episcopal and imperial authority, the figurative decoration of San Vitale appears subordinated to the theophanic character that dominates the Church’s design. The intrados of the presbyterial arch shows the Incarnated Christ flanked by the apostles and Ss. Gervasius and Protasius. Mediating spatial and visual access to the following theophanies, the placement testifies to the role played by the Incarnation in granting access to God. (see Fig. 32) The iconography in the presbytery presents sacrifices as precursors of the Eucharist, along with God’s reaching out to humans through

 See Peers :  – , with bibl. On hieratism, see Demus : .  Peers : .  Coleman and Elsner ; Elsner :  – .  The hole left by the rope or chain of this chandelier can still be seen piercing through the ceiling of the apse, just above the head of Christ.

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theophanies.⁵⁸¹ The three angels visiting Abraham at Mamre mirror the scene showing Abel and Melchizedek sacrificing to God, while Moses’ visions at the burning bush and Sinai flank the main theophany depicted in the apse, as they did in St. Catherine’s. On the presbytery’s vault, above the altar, the cosmic structure is shown synthetically, with four angels standing on the sun supporting the oculus through which the Lamb appears.⁵⁸² Like baptism, the Eucharist allowed believers to see, and eventually enter, the higher echelons of the cosmos. While the lower ones were reproduced in the space of the presbytery, where the salvation of humanity took place through the Eucharist, the higher heaven, rendered accessible through it, was reproduced in the apse. Incomplete manifestations conditioned by time and space, the Incarnated Christ and the Lamb were replaced in the apse by the image of the Eternal Logos, the Word that coexisted with the Father in eternity. Flanking Him were angels and other categories of heavenly citizens, saints and martyrs. The emperor and the bishop, along with lower clerical orders occupying the floor of the presbytery and apse, represented a separate iconic order, adding to the completeness of the experience. The apse thus shows the other end of the oculus opened in the presbytery by the Eucharist. (see Fig. 36) In the timeless, simultaneously immobile and light-emitting atmosphere of heaven, God, the saints, and the angelic beings appeared to the onlooker. Combining youth, serenity, and majesty, the generic beauty of the eternal Logos who served as model for humanity shone forth through the gold, purple, and mother-of-pearl that adorned Him. The blue globe serving as throne contrasted the golden background and the purple of Christ’s attire, and focused one’s attention on the central figure. The archangels flanking Him further stressed the purple figure through the contrast of their white attire and the silver of their halos. Standing at the beginning of the luminous progression that seemed to emanate from His very person, the Christ in San Vitale was the Creator, the source of the world and its light, as indicated also by the two angels shown above Him holding a clipeus with a radiant alpha. The scene applies to a description of God made by Avitus of Vienne (ca. 494– 518): Ergo ubi completis fulserunt omnia rebus, Ornatuque suo perfectus constitit orbis, Tum Pater omnipotens aeterno lumine laetum, Contulit ad terras sublimi ex aethere vultum, Illustrans quodcunque videt: placet ipsa tuenti Artifici factura suo, laudatque Creator Dispositum pul-

 The scenes have, of course, many connotations. On the process of selection of the scenes in Late Antique Christianity, see Kessler : .  Lehmann : . In Sinai two flying archangels offer orbs to the Lamb appearing through an oculus. (see Fig. )

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chro quem condidit ordine mundum. Tum demum tali sapientia uoce locuta est: En praeclara nitet mundano machina cultu;⁵⁸³

While the central alpha indicated Christ as the beginning, the double omega chirho crosses upheld by flying angels on the walls of the presbytery pointed to the ultimate character of the vision, as did also the position of the Moses panels, and the turned faces of the two angels flanking Christ. Like Moses, St. Vitalis and the committente Ecclesius looked in the direction of Christ, a privilege made available to the congregation as well. Dressed almost exclusively in purple, adorned with a halo containing mother-of-pearl encrustations, and accompanied by twelve men, the emperor shown in the panel to the right of the Logos is intently promoted as a Christic figure.⁵⁸⁴ (see Fig. 37) On the opposite side, in the panel of the empress, the gesture of a courtier that pulls back a curtain stressed the revelatory character of the her presence. Referencing the imperial presentation ceremony that dramatically unveiled the emperor from behind a curtain, the scene finds parallels in the representation of Constantius II in the Codex-Calendar of 354 and two sixth-century ivories showing empresses, now in the Bargello Museum in Florence and the Kunsthistorisches Museum in Vienna. All instances place the member of the imperial family under a scallop-like apse, flanked by parted curtains, dressed in a rich and decorated costume, and having divine attributes (halo for Constantius II, orb and sceptre for the empresses, luminous elements that associated her with the portrait of Christ for the empress in San Vitale).⁵⁸⁵

 Avitus of Vienne Poems . –  (ed. PL .C, trans. Shea : ) “And so, when everything shone forth and all things were completed, when the world stood finished and perfect in its own adornment, in eternal light the Almighty Father turned His joyful countenance from the lofty vault of Heaven down to earth, brightening as He did whatever He looked upon, and His works pleased their architect as He gazed upon them, and the Creator praised the earth He had built, arranged as it was in its own beautiful order. Then at last Wisdom spoke, saying, ‘Behold how this bright fabric shines with earthly decoration.’”  On the two emperors in San Vitale representing the idea of emperors rather than Justinian and Theodora, see Elsner :  – ; Deliyannis : . The dignitary between the emperor and Maximian is a later addition made, according to Andreescu-Treadgold and Treadgold , at the same time as the insertion of Maximian’s portrait. The detail sustains the Christic thesis as the addition of a dignitary that is not in any way distinguished could have only be meant to raise the number of the entourage to a symbolic twelve.  Parted curtains as signs of revelation are often found in Late Antique Christian art, from the Pola casket, to the confessio in Ss. Giovanni e Paolo in Rome, and the ivory plaque of Menas with camels. In Sant’Apollinare in Classe the deceased bishops of Ravenna are depicted within niches similar to the ones on the ivory plaques and the one of the empress in San Vitale.

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Fig. 42. Mosaic decoration of the triumphal arch and apse of the basilica Eufrasiana in Poreč (ca. 560).

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Fig. 43. Opus sectile decoration behind the sunthronon of the basilica Eufrasiana in Poreč (ca. 560).

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The emperor’s iconicity, a characteristic of the office since Hellenistic times, had received an impetus in Late Antiquity when the idea that the emperor “through his appearance assumes the form of God” popularised.⁵⁸⁶ In the sixth century, the concept appears fully developed in the protocol of Justinian’s successor, Justin II (565 – 78). Using a material setting similar to that in San Vitale, the emperor, clad in purple, gold, and jewels, received emissaries while seated on a golden throne placed under a ciborium in the apse of an octagonal building. Both bishops and emperors created spaces that stimulated their perception as theophanic presences.⁵⁸⁷ There is much to learn about the mise-en-scène in San Vitale and similar churches, both in terms of method and finality from Corippus’ (ca. 500 – 70) description of Justin II’s reception ceremony. According to the poet, the luminosity and splendour of heaven were reproduced in the reception room, the Chrysotriklinos, with the orchestration of an “aliud caelum” helping the perception of the emperor and his retinue as heavenly beings.⁵⁸⁸ Dressed in purple and gold, immobile on his throne, and surrounded by an entourage dressed in white, the emperor appears as a Doppelgänger of the bishop seated on the cathedra in Hagia Sophia or San Vitale. Furthermore, Corippus tells us, the entire scene received its light from the very person of the emperor, an effect that Venantius Fortunatus recurrently ascribed to bishops.⁵⁸⁹

 John Damascene (ca.  – ) Orationes de imaginibus tres . (trans. Peers : ). The idea was notorious in Late Antiquity cf. Themistius (ca.  – ) Or. . – ; Eusebius of Caesarea Oratio de laudibus Constantini .; Ambrosiaster (th. ct) Quaestio ; Venantius Fortunatus Vita Mart. . – . On the emperor’s iconicity in Late Antiquity, see Carile  and Carile ; Brown : . For the Middle Byzantine period, see Woodfin .  See also the methods used by the Persian king in Peter Chrysologus’ Serm. ..  Corippus In laud. . –  (ed. and trans. Cameron : , trans. ) “imitatur Olympum officiis Augusta domus. Sic omnia clara sic numeris bene compta suis, ita luce corusca.” / “The imperial palace with its officials is like Olympus. Everything is as bright, everything as well ordered in its numbers, as shining with light.” See Carile :  –  on Late Antique imperial palaces mirroring heaven.  Corippus In laud. . –  (ed. and trans. Cameron : , trans. ) “unumque iubar super omnia fulget; omnia subcumbunt flammis melioribus astra, et quo tecta latent, regis pascuntur ab igne” / “and one light shines over all; all the stars yield to its superior flames and feed on the fire of their monarch, by which they lie eclipsed.” Peter Chrysologus Serm. . as well argues for the emperor being the image of God and for the imperial palace a reflection of heaven that drew its light from the person of the emperor “Quod est sine rege aula regis, hoc est sine largitate iuiunium. Aula regis fulget auro, nitet marmore, picturis splendet, grandescit spatiis, leuatur culmine, amoenatur uirectis, ipso terribilis est secreto; sed sine rege honorem habet, caret gloria, est uacua solitudo, est clausa heremus, est horibilis solitudo.” / “Quel che è un palazzo regale senza il re, questo è il digiuno senza generosità. Il palazzo reale è fulgido d’oro, è lucente di marmi, risplende di pitture, è grandioso d’ampiezza, s’innalza con il pinnacolo, è reso ameno

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Held to embody the divine, the emperor offered himself as a manifestation of the divine at the centre of an orchestrated experience that shared too many elements with that in San Vitale to be a coincidence. Rather, both bishop and emperor made use of the same techniques to stimulate their perception as iconic. In a period when people sought to adore God through His living images, the bishops and emperors reproduced the spontaneous luminosity of the desert ascetics through a carefully staged mise-en-scène.⁵⁹⁰ In San Vitale, the emperor in the panel is a luminous Christ-like presence, echoing Fortunatus’ praise of King Sigebert I (ca. 535 – 75) as source of light: Gaudia diffundit radianti lumine uultus: nubila nulla grauant populum sub rege sereno. ⁵⁹¹

The enargeia of depicted images stemmed not only from the verisimilitude of the renderings and the dynamic of the medium, but also from their participation in a ritual that included living beings.⁵⁹² Immobile on his cathedra, the bishop mediated the transition between the depicted scenes and the clergy. In the perpetual day of heaven, both registers, that of Christ on the apse’s wall, and that of the bishop on the sunthronon, expressed the same image: Aurea tecta micant, plebs aurea fulget in aula et cum rege pio turba corusca nitet. ⁵⁹³

In San Vitale, between the arch of the presbytery and the bishop’s cathedra, all one could know visually of God, all possible manifestations, were made available. The three manifestations of Christ (the Incarnate man, the apocalyptic Lamb, the eternal Logos), the three angels visiting Abraham at Mamre, Melchizedek as

dalla verzura, è temibile per la sua posizione appartata; ma senza il re ottiene onore e manca di gloria, è un vuoto deserto, è un romitaggio sbarrato, è un’oribile solitudine.”  On Cesarius of Arles’ community seeing and adoring God in the person of their bishop, see Vita Caes. .. On the theophanic character of the desert ascetics, see Frank b. Throughout Late Antiquity God or demons impersonating God appear in visions as emperors. See Golitzin .  Venantius Fortunatus Carm. .. –  (ed. and trans. Reydellet : ) “Son visage répand la joie dans une lumière rayonnante, aucun nuage ne pèse sur le peuple sous un roi plein de sérénité.”  In his analysis of Sant’Apollinare Nuovo, Elsner :  –  has shown how the figurative decoration collapsed heaven and earth, mediating the interaction of the onlookers with the heavenly realm.  Venantius Fortunatus Carm. .. –  (ed. and trans. Reydellet : ) “La toiture scintille de l’éclat de l’or, dans la salle un peuple vêtu d’or étincelle et, en compagnie de son Roi plein de bonté, une foule jette des éclats éblouissants.”

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prefiguration of Christ, Moses’ encounters with God at Sinai and Tabor, the heavenly Jerusalem, the symbol of Christ, angels, martyrs, apostles, bishops, and emperors were all present. San Vitale proposed a complete theophanic experience that combined Old Testament, New Testament, and common Late Antique motifs. Found at the end of the succession of luminous spaces, and enveloped in the luminous haze, the figurative decoration was presented to the onlooker as a revelation. Nevertheless, it was not the depicted characters that the setting was supposed to render credible theophanies, but the living participants in the ritual.

II.1.6 The Liturgy⁵⁹⁴ Just as the scene in the Chrysotriklinos “fed on the fire of the monarch”, the scene in San Vitale drew its light from the bishop during the liturgy. It would appear that between the fourth and the sixth centuries, bishops came to share in the emperor’s iconicity, with their nomination as imperial functionaries giving them the right to official portraits that received prayers of intercession and were subject of veneration.⁵⁹⁵ While, as pointed out by Peter Brown, the emperor was the fourth-century image of God on earth, in the sixth century, the bishop appears from the sources as the more potent presence in the West.⁵⁹⁶ Indeed, in the new political situation, “c’est l’évêque qui représente la lumière, de l’aveu meme du roi Théodoric. Il n’existe pas de formule équivalente à episcoporum lux dans l’œuvre d’Ennode de Pavie.”⁵⁹⁷ The revamped liturgical service reflected the phenomenon, strengthening the sacred character of the clergy and especially of the bishop. The division of the clergy into bishops, priests, and deacons reflected the angelic orders according to Dionysius (nine powers grouped in three ranks), and stimulated the process Peter Brown aptly called “the ‘oth-

 Nothing is known of the type of liturgy used in San Vitale but Doig :  is probably right to believe that “If the liturgical furnishings were imported, not just imitated, then the liturgy was likely to have been as well.” On liturgies in the period, see Taft , , /, ; Connell ; Spinks .  Török : . Belting-Ihm :  ff shows that adoration, incensing, and damnatio memoriae were applied to the bishops’ images. Paulinus of Nola Ep.  mentions the pompa of bishops who had lights and incense carried in front of them. Doig :  mentions that the emperor prostrated to the patriarch in Hagia Sophia. Rapp :  considers the Late Antique bishop as an intermediary between the holy man and the emperor.  Brown : .  Bührer-Thierry : .

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ering’ of the clergy”.⁵⁹⁸ By embodying the orders, they became theophanies to the brethren: The purpose of hierarchy, then, is likeness and union with God as far as possible […] hierarchy making the members of His dancing company divine images, clear and spotless mirrors, receptive of the original light and thearchic ray and sacredly filled with the granted radiance, and ungrudgingly flaring it up again to the next, according to the thearchic ordinances.⁵⁹⁹

It was the bishop that benefitted most from the process, with the rest of the hierarchy serving the same purpose as the angelic choirs did in heaven and the late Roman imperial entourage had in the imperial court, i. e., stressing the uniqueness of the person at the centre.⁶⁰⁰ The episcopal cathedra synthesised this process, as it placed the bishop in the position of God. Implicit in the material setting, the relation is explicit in Dionysius’ writings. Being the apex of the human hierarchy and “the first of those who behold God”, the bishop intersected the human and the divine.⁶⁰¹ This is the very dynamic of the space in San Vitale and the Eufrasiana, the cathedra being placed at the end of a luminous progression that reproduced the structure of heaven and indicated the one sitting on it as God. (see also Fig. 3) As the summus sacerdos entered the sanctuary and sat on the cathedra, the hierarchical order modelled on that of heaven became visible. The constitutive elements of the scene cohered, their various connotations losing ground to the theophanic one as they came to point in one direction: the bishop’s bridging of heaven and earth.⁶⁰² Fragmentary now due to the loss of so many of its elements, the scene in San Vitale seems to point to the Logos as central figure. Nevertheless, by virtue of the ritual which placed the focus on the performers rather than the setting, and in light of the settings in Sant’Apollinare in Classe and the basilica of Eufrasius in Poreč, discussed below it was the bish Brown :  cf. Dionysius Eccl. Hier. .. (ed. PG .D).  Dionysius Cael. Hier. . (ed. PG .A, trans. Perl : ), cf also Eccl. Hier. ...  Dionysius Eccl. Hier. . (ed. PG .CD). In Justinian’s time, Hagia Sophia had  priests,  deacons,  deaconesses,  subdeacons,  lectors,  psalmists,  doorkeepers cf. Novellae .. See Mainstone [] : ; Ousterhout :  – . For Ravenna Agnellus L.P.R.  (ed. Deliyannis :  – ) mentions the entourage that went to Rome with Bishop Ecclesius ( priests,  deacons,  subdeacons,  ceroferarii,  lectors,  lawyers/notaries,  cantors).  Dionysius Eccl. Hier. . (ed. PG .AB, trans. Luibheid and Rorem : ), see below.  The bishop even delivered the sermon from the cathedra. When the church was too big for the sermon to be heard, portable thrones like the ivory one of Maximian were used. Placed near the chancel, they assured the transmissibility. This shows the great commitment to the sitting position, indicating that the cathedra was a key episcopal symbol. Political and cosmic power were associated with the throne, emperors and gods being recurrently shown enthroned.

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Fig. 44. Section of San Vitale in Ravenna (ca. 548). After Deichmann 1976b: pl. 38.

op that was the focus of the whole scene.⁶⁰³ The liturgical act brought together in a coherent manner all the elements discussed so far, with the theophanic dimension of the space, decoration, and iconography converging in the cathedra, and investing the bishop with a theophanic dimension. The scene translated visually Dionysius’ presentation of the bishop as connecting point between heaven and earth: Oὐκοῦν ἡ θεία τῶν ἱεραρχῶν τάξις πρώτη μέν ἔστι τῶν θεοπτικῶν τάξεων, ἀκροτάτη δὲ καὶ ἐσχάτη πάλιν ἡ αὐτή, καὶ γὰρ εἰς αὐτὴν ἀποτελεῖτᾷι καὶ ἀποπληροῦται πᾶσα τῆς καθ’ ἡμᾶς

 It is telling that in the Vita of Peter of Alexandria († ) it is said that the bishop never dared to sit on his cathedra because he saw there enthroned a “radiant and inexpressive luminosity” (trans. Vivian : ).

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ἱεραρχίας ἡ διακόσμησις. Ὡς γὰρ ἅπασαν ἱεραρχίαν ὁρῶμεν εἰς τὸν Ἰησοῦν ἀποπεραιουμένην, οὕτως ἑκάστην εἰς τὸν οἰκεῖον ἔνθεον ἱεράρχην.⁶⁰⁴

The theatricality that came to characterise all late Roman social scenes (amphitheater, imperial palace, army) touched also on the Church. The sixth-century liturgy appears as a complex dramatic performance which catalysed the perception of the clergy as iconic. It is commonly argued that the architecture and decoration of Hagia Sophia have influenced the evolution of the early Byzantine liturgy, stimulating its participative connotations. The “embodying” (εἰκoνίζειν) of the heavenly orders by the clergy and believers taking part in the ritual, mentioned in the Cherubikon hymn that was composed shortly after the dedication of the cathedral, is still seen as an effect of the theophanic character of the space.⁶⁰⁵ Nevertheless, as we have seen, the promotion of the sacraments as theophanic and the appreciation of their material context and participants as iconic appear earlier, with cultic buildings like Hagia Sophia and San Vitale being the result, not the catalyst of the process. What the theophanic dimension of these spaces produced was the extension of the iconicity from one person (the baptisand and the bishop) to all the participants. Indeed, while fifth-century baptisteries and churches stressed the embodying of the divine by one person, the baptisand and the bishop, respectively, sixth-century Justinianic churches included the rest of the audience in the revelatory program.⁶⁰⁶ Nonetheless, the process did not diminish the theophanic potential of the bishop. As in the imperial apparatus, the multiplication of the categories and number of those surrounding the main person stressed its

 Dionysius Eccl. Hier. . (ed. PG .AB, trans. Luibheid and Rorem : ) “The divine order of the hierarchs is therefore the first of those who behold God. It is the first and also the last, for in it the whole arrangement of the human hierarchy is fulfilled and completed. And just as we observe that every hierarchy ends with Jesus, so each individual hierarchy reaches its term in its own inspired hierarch.”  Tsakiridou :  pointed out that “To iconize the Cherubim is to assume or embody their form, to give them a tangible presence, rather than to reflect or replicate them.” The hymn was introduced in  or , under Justin II. On it, see Taft . The assimilation of the clergy with angels is recurrent in the age, see Ps.-Chrysostom In parabolam de filio prodigo PG .; Ps.-Sophronius (th ct.) Commentarius liturgicus PG .D; Germanus of Constantinople (sed.  – ) Hist. Eccl. PG .C.  On the bishop’s iconicity being constructed through the ritual and ritual settings before the sixth century, see Taft /; Ivanovici .

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exceptionality.⁶⁰⁷ Placed at the summit of a hierarchy of spaces, decorative motifs, and categories of believers, the bishop appeared as an incarnation of the space’s and the ritual’s potential to flesh out the divine. In the West, the assimilation of the clergy with the divine orders during the liturgy, implicit in the relation between the cultic spaces and Dionysius’ theory, is explicitly expressed in written sources dated to the eighth century. A text attributed to Germanus of Paris (ca. 496– 576) indicates the clergy as singing “in specie angelorum”, while the bishop enters the church as the living image of Christ: ita psallentibus clericis procedit sacerdos in specie Christi de sacrario tanquam in caelo in arca Domini, quae est Ecclesia…⁶⁰⁸

Like the Greek εἰκoνίζειν, the Latin in specie meant “to mold something into form”, “to substantiate”.⁶⁰⁹ The ideal human being was still the luminous, prelapsarian Adam of the previous period, Dionysius stating that in his time Christianity promoted “golden or gleaming men, glamorous, wearing lustrous clothing, giving off flames which cause no harm”⁶¹⁰ as ideal divine manifestations. The state characterised the baptisand, but also saints like Martin of Tours or the desert ascetics.⁶¹¹ Bishops and emperors relied on their attire and setting to generate the light, with Fortunatus’ praise of Germanus of Paris showing the elements contributing to the aura, and allowing us to add to the image in San Vitale the lost aspect of the clergy’s effect. Describing the bishop’s dramatic entrance into the church, surrounded by the clergy and community, the poet declares: Inde sacerdotes, leuiticus hinc micat ordo; illos canities, hos stola pulchra tegit, illis palor inest, rubor his in uultibus errat et candunt rutilis lilia mixta rosis. Illi iam senio, sed et hi bene uestibus albent, ut placeat summo picta corona Deo. In medio Germanus adest antistes honore qui regit hinc iuuenes, subrigit inde senes.

 Strong :  sees the flanking of the emperor by a growing number of characters in imperial art beginning with the period of Augustus as a manner to single out and stress the importance of the person at the centre. The same is discernible in the episcopal liturgy.  Ps.-Germanus of Paris Expositio breuis antique liturgiae gallicanae ep.  (ed. PL . – ).  Apuleius Met. . has the hero’s lover present herself to him “in speciem Veneris”, reproducing the outlook of the Venus of Cnidos through poise and beauty.  Dionysius Cael. Hier. . (ed. PG .AB, trans. Luibheid and Rorem : ).  On the ideal human being as luminous, see Peter Chrysologus Serm. . – ; Venantius Fortunatus Vita Mart. . – .

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Leuitae praeeunt, sequitur grauis ordo ducatum: hos gradiendo mouet, hos moderando trahit. Ipse tamen sensim incedit uelut alter Aaron, non de ueste nitens, sed pietate placens. Non lapides, coccus, cidar, aurum, purpura, byssus exornant humeros, sed micat alma fides. Iste satis melior ueteri quam lege sacerdos, hic quia uera colit quod prius umbra fuit. ⁶¹²

The elements that other bishops used in order to stress their sacred character are presented as lacking in the case of Germanus, the holy person shining naturally. The poet thus testifies to the common use of the details that drew attention to the bishop as luminous focus. The clergy partook in the light which, as Fortunatus often argued, came from the bishop. Dressed in his luminous, purple attire, the bishop was the focal centre and source of light of the setting: Inter candelabros radiabat et ipse sacerdos diffuso interius spiritus igne micans. ⁶¹³ Inter quos medios Martini sede sacerdos Eufronius fulget metropolita sacer, plaudens in sancta fratrum coeunte corona et sua membra uidens fortior exstat apex. ⁶¹⁴

 Venantius Fortunatus Carm. .. –  (ed. and trans. Reydellet : ) “D’un côté les prêtres, de l’autre resplendit l’ordre des lévites; de blancs cheveux sont la parure des uns, une belle robe celle des autres; les premiers ont la pâleur, les seconds ont une rougeur qui flotte sur leurs visages et la blancheur des lys se mêle aux roses rouges. Les premiers ont la blancheur du grand âge, main les seconds celle de leurs vêtements: c’est une couronne variée qui plaît au Très-haut. Au milieu est présent Germain avec la dignité pontificale. Tour à tour, il tient les jeunes gens et soutient les vieillards. Les lévites marchent en tête, l’ordre des hommes graves suit la marche; il fait avancer les uns à son pas, et il entraîne les autres à son rythme. Luimême marche lentement, tel un second Aaron. Ce n’est pas tant son vêtement qui resplendit que sa piété qui charme. Ni les pierreries, ni l’écarlate, ni la tiare, ni l’or, ni la pourpre, ni le lin fin n’ornent ses épaules, mais la foi bienfaisante brille en lui. Bien supérieur au prêtre de l’ancienne loi, car il cultive comme la vérité ce qui jadis n’était que l’ombre.”  Venantius Fortunatus Carm. .b. –  (ed. and trans. Reydellet : ) “L’évêque luimême rayonnait au milieu des candélabres, il étincelait du feu de l’Esprit qui inondait son âme.” Ps.-Germanus of Paris Expositio breuis antique liturgiae gallicanae  (ed. PL . – ) cf. Venantius Fortunatus Carm .. – , .., .., .a. – , .. – , .. – , .. – , etc. On the luminosity of bishops, see de Nie :  –  and n. .  Venantius Fortunatus Carm. .. –  (ed. and trans. Reydellet : ) “Au milieu d’eux, sur le siège de Martin, l’évêque Eufrone resplendit, lui le métropolitain vénérable: il se félicite de voir la sainte assemblée de ses frères réunie. De voir ses membres, le chef se dresse plus énergiquement.”

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In San Vitale and the Eufrasiana, the bishop’s placement at the intersection of three symbolic axes testified to his iconicity and Christic character. The first was the vertical axis that associated him spatially with the portraits of Christ. The second, placed him at the end of the ritual procession beginning outside in the atrium, and indicated him as the head of the human hierarchy. The third and last was represented by his relation to the rest of the clergy, a dynamic synthesised in the sunthronon. Dressed, as indicated by the mosaics in San Vitale and the Eufrasiana, in purple, his presence was stressed visually in the same manner as that of the Logos in the mosaic and of the emperor in the Chrysotriklinos, through the white clothes of those flanking him. Given that ontological levels were “spotless mirrors” of each other, the manner in which the bishop embodied or reproduced the outlook and light of God was similar to that in which angels in the levels above did. Dionysius’ description of the angel’s iconicity thus applies to the bishop, and indicates the ideal manner in which the latter was supposed to be perceived: ὁ ἄγγελος, φανέρωσις τοῦ ἀφανοῦς φωτός, ἔσοπτρον ἀκραιφνές, διειδέστατον, ἀλώϐητον, ἄχραντον, ἀκηλίδωτον, εἰσδεχόμενον ὅλην (εἰ θέμις εἰπεῖν), τὴν ὡραιότητα τῆς ἀγαθοτύπου θεοειδείας, καὶ ἀμιγῶς ἀναλάμπον ἐν ἑαυτῷ (καθάπερ οἷόν τέ ἐστι,) τὴν ἀγαθότητα τῆς ἐν ἀδύτοις σιγῆς·⁶¹⁵

The bishop’s statuesque immobility on the cathedra, his spatial and visual association with Christ depicted above, and the splendour of his attire made him the iconic presence par excellence. Overshadowed by the Holy Spirit at the beginning of each liturgy, the bishop became the vessel of the Spirit.⁶¹⁶ Thus, the summus sacerdos mediated the encounter between the congregation and God through the Eucharist and the sermon, but also through his image. Surrounded by the most luminous materials and by a multitude of lights, the bishop catalysed the iconic character of the entire scene. It appears that during the Eucharistic liturgy, the bishop impersonated the ideal of Christian anthropology and of Late Antique society in general, raying light. The setting found in churches combined elements pertaining to the Old and New Testament traditions, the area of the cathedra referencing to the scene described by John in his Revelation: And I did turn to see the voice that did speak with me, and having turned, I saw seven golden lamp-stands, and in the midst of the seven lamp-stands, [one] like to a son of man,

 Dionysius Div. Nom. . (ed. PG .B, trans. Perl : ) “The angel is an image of God, a manifestation of the unmanifest light, a pure mirror, most transparent, unblemished, undefiled, spotless, receiving whole, if it is right to say, the bloom of the good-stamped deiformity, and unmixedly shining back itself, as far as it can, the goodness of the silence in the sanctuary.”  Taft /: .

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clothed to the foot, and girt round at the breast with a golden girdle, and his head and hairs white, as if white wool–as snow, and his eyes as a flame of fire; and his feet like to fine brass, as in a furnace having been fired, and his voice as a sound of many waters, and having in his right hand seven stars, and out of his mouth a sharp two-edged sword is proceeding, and his countenance [is] as the sun shining in its might. […] and immediately I was in the Spirit, and lo, a throne was set in the heaven, and upon the throne is [one] sitting. And He who is sitting was in sight like a stone, jasper and sardine: and a rainbow was round the throne in sight like an emerald. And around the throne [are] thrones twenty and four, and upon the thrones I saw the twenty and four elders sitting, clothed in white garments, and they had upon their heads crowns of gold; and out of the throne proceed do lightnings, and thunders, and voices; and seven lamps of fire are burning before the throne, which are the Seven Spirits of God,⁶¹⁷

It is in Fortunantus’ description of Martin of Tours that one can see the theophanic effect the bishops hoped to obtain. Ideal bishop, Martin appears as an alter Christus in his sixth-century Vita. Epitomising all the elements that made one iconic in the period, Fortunatus’ descriptions of Martin appears as the pattern on which he moulded the image of other bishops. The reflective episcopal attire becomes in Martin’s case “lapidum uelamine compte, quam noua palla tibi cuius textura coruscans, trama topazos erat rutilans et stamen iaspis et tunicae insignes currunt pro uellere gemmae!”⁶¹⁸ His body too was transformed during the liturgy, and his head was surrounded by a spontaneous fire halo. The crediting of living human bodies with the capacity to reproduce the outlook or luminosity of God appears stronger than ever in the sixth century.⁶¹⁹ Episcopal attempts to integrate a phenomenon that characterised the imperial cult

 Rev. . –  […] . – .  Venantius Fortunatus Vita Mart. . –  (ed. Reydellet : , trans. de Nie : ) “a veil of precious stones […] a coruscating texture, whose woof is ruddy-glowing topaz and whose warp jasper–and instead of woollen threads, distinguished jewels run through the robe!”, cf. also . – , . – , Carm. .. – , .. – . See also Sulpicius Severus (ca.  – ) Dial. . and ..  Venantius Fortunatus Vita Mart. . –  (ed. Reydellet : , trans. de Nie : ). The description of the devil’s outlook in an apparition to Martin also testifies that the kind of presence radiating light, both divine and coming from the vestments and jewels it wore, was associated with theophanies: “ante oculos deformis firma rebellis, sulphurea sub luce micans, radiatilis umbra, lumino mentito tenebrosus et atra uorago, fulgidus exuuiis, regali ueste satelles, tectus bratteolis, uacuo diademate pulcher, ordine gemmarum numerosa luce coruscus, falsa ueste potens, cui calceus inlitus auro…” / “before [the saint’s] eyes stood the deformed form of the rebel, a shadow raying light, glittering with a sulphurous glow, dark with a lying brightness [that covered] an engulfing black abyss, shining because of his robes, the servant in royal dress covered with gold leaf, beautiful with an insubstantial diadem that flashed with the light of numerous rows of jewels, powerful through false attire and gold-covered shoes…”

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and the desert hermits testify to the phenomenon’s appeal.⁶²⁰ Inspired from both instances, and reflecting the Late Antique weakness for light phenomena, the episcopal liturgy proposed a summus sacerdos as a living icon reproducing the light of God.⁶²¹ As speculated by Dionysius, the process turned the church into an imprint of the heavenly temple, a truly ἐμψυχός ναός⁶²² in which, as later argued by Germanus of Constantinople (ca. 634– 740), God “dwells and walks […] the spiritual and immaterial hierarchies of the heavenly host being represented by the material priests on earth who stand by and worships the Lord continuously…”⁶²³ The alchemic process transforming the clergy’s and the bishops’ materiality appeared generated by the ritual, but its credibility depended on the material setting. As in the case of relics, studied in detail by Patricia Cox Miller, where the particular character of a setting subjected to a “poétique de la lumière”⁶²⁴ eased their perception as relics instead of just bones, in churches, the amassing of luminous details produced an atmosphere that affected the perception of the scene’s materiality, with the light’s immateriality and divine character spreading to the setting. The designers of churches like Hagia Sophia and San Vitale consciously manipulated the impact of the Late Antique “visual rhetoric of sanctity” in order to manifest the presence of God to the people. Ekphraseis testified to the role played by the visual program, the emotion stirred by the setting, recurrently mentioned by sources, being transformed into religious zeal. The process through which one’s perception was confused inside these spaces, leading to an easier assimilation with heaven, is best described by a later author, Photios of Constantinople (ca. 810 – 93) who, referring to the church of the Virgin of the Pharos in Constantinople, drew attention to the effect the architecture and decoration had on the onlooker’s senses: It is as if one entered heaven itself with no one barring the way from any side, and was illuminated by the beauty in all forms shining all round like so many stars, so is one utterly amazed. Thenceforth it seems that everything is in ecstatic motion, and the church itself is circling around. For the spectator, through his whirling about in all directions and being

 Frank b.  The tradition continued in the Byzantine East. As shown by Woodfin , esp. p.  and Bogdanovic´ , in fourteenth- and fifteenth-century Byzantium, the patriarch in his sakkos was a living image of Christ, the materiality of his body being spiritualised through the shining costume.  Enkainia kontakion  (ed. Trypanis : ).  Germanus of Constantinople Hist. Myst.  (trans. Mango [] :  –  and ).  de la Portbarré-Viard : .

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constantly astir, which he is forced to experience by the variegated spectacle on all sides, imagines that his personal condition is transferred to the object.⁶²⁵

II.1.7 The New Ritual Mise-en-Scène on the Adriatic Shores San Vitale, like all centralised structures, had a particular capacity to actuate, to make present. As underlined by Melchisedec Törönen, the basilical plan had a different dynamic, with the progression of the space placing the accent on becoming rather than on being.⁶²⁶ Nevertheless, in basilicas using the type of mise-en-scène we have been discussing, the area of the apse retained a particular capacity to actuate by emphasising the iconic character of the bishop. With the entire dynamic of the space being focused on one individual, he came to synthesise the capacity of the setting to substantiate the Divine Presence. The solea counterbalanced the different spatial and visual dynamic of the axial display, with its tendency to sever from the ritual the brethren sitting in the back of the church. Advancing into the space of the believers, the raised platform assured the ritual’s visibility, which, as argued, was essential in the new type of liturgical service.⁶²⁷ The basilicas built in the upper Adriatic after Justinian’s annexing of the area in 539 testify to the enthusiastic adoption of the new type of cultic building. Received via Ravenna, the new type of ritual was enacted according to the possibilities of each community. Particular to the area was the combination of the Western, more luminous type of basilica with decorative and iconographic techniques developed in the East.⁶²⁸ Let us now tour the north-eastern coast of the Adriatic in search of marks left by the new type of ritual scene. Eventually, we will return to Ravenna where Sant’Apollinare in Classe will help make sense of the disparaged information scattered in churches around the gulf, and complete the image we had from San Vitale on the revelatory dimension of these settings. Enjoying a position that assured economic prosperity, Aquileia grew at a fast pace in Late Antiquity and, with it, the local Christian community.⁶²⁹ The complex of Bishop Theodorus (sed. 308 – 19) was an architectural experiment. Two rectangular aulae adorned with wonderful mosaic floors flanked other spaces re Photios Hom. . ff (trans. Mango [] : ). See Isar b:  and Pentcheva :  –  on the overwhelming effect.  Törönen : .  On the introduction of the solea in the upper-Adriatic area, see Cuscito :  – . On the importance of visibility, see above.  Having no galleries above the aisles, the Western type allowed the presence of bigger clerestory windows. On the influence of Ravenna, see Terry ; Rizzardi .  On Christianity in Aquileia, see Biasutti .

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served for various liturgical and communal services.⁶³⁰ Testifying to the alert rhythm in which the wealth of the world entered and was put to good use in the Church in the period, the aulae were replaced with monumental triplenave basilicas (ca. 70 x 30 m) under Bishop Chromatius (sed. 388 – 408), who began the construction of at least two more churches in the city.⁶³¹ While the designation of Milan as capital of the West (289 – 402) transformed Aquileia in the area’s main port, the transfer of the court to Ravenna under Honorius (384 – 423) weakened the city’s economy since Ravenna had its own port.⁶³² Sacked twice by Alaric (ca. 375 – 410) and destroyed by Attila (452), Aquileia never fully recovered. The arrival of the Lombards later forced the bishop to move the episcopal see to Grado.⁶³³ On the island, Bishop Elia (sed. 571– 86) commissioned the construction of a cathedral on the site of an older, smaller basilica.⁶³⁴ Consecrated in 579, the three-nave basilica (47.5 x 19.6 m) was dedicated to St. Eufemia. From its original decoration, only the columns, capitals, and mosaic floor remain. In the centre of the 900 square meters of mosaic pavement, the inscription attributed to the bishop praises the “variegated” character of the decoration. As pointed out by Gianfranco Agosti for the case of Bishop Paul of Apamea (ca. 533– 40), the reference to uarietas indicates Elia’s awareness and adoption of the “jewelled style.”⁶³⁵ Built with rather limited means in time of crisis, the church could not have had an ideal decorative program. However, the extant original details show the same combination of Western and Eastern features as in Ravenna. At the end of their analysis of the structure, Giovanni Brusin and Paolo Lino Zovatto noticed that although the spatial dynamic is similar to that of Santa Sabina in Rome (432), “Le membrature agili, gli archi allegeriti a piedritto, gli elementi struttivi, e costruttivi di fondo, e la vibrazione cromatica che la percorre, esaltata all’interno

 On the place of Theodorus’ complex in the process through which money entering the Church were directed to monumental cultic constructions, see Brown :  – .  On the complex, see Brandenburg .  For an in-depth introduction to Aquileia in Late Antiquity, see Sotinel .  See Cuscito .  The project might have been initiated by Bishop Niceta (sed. ca.  – ).  Agosti . Paul of Apamea inscribed on the floor of the church he consecrated in  a text similar to the one of Elia: “It is Paul who introduces this variegated mosaic, since he has variegated knowledge of the doctrines from on high.” (trans. Agosti : ). The inscription in Grado reads: “Atria quae cernis uar[io for]mata decore / squalid sub picto cae[latu]r marmore tellus /longa uetustatis seno f[us]cau[e]ra[t a]etas. / “The hall that you see embellished in various ways, / Under the multicoloured marble is mere earth; / Its age and antiquity had obscured it.” (trans. Cantino Wataghin :  – ).

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dalla rete musiva, accostano la basilica gradese all’eufrasiana di Parenzo, a S. Apollinare Nuovo e a S. Apollinare in Classe di Ravenna.”⁶³⁶ Unlike Sant’Eufemia, the basilica built by Bishop Eufrasius in Poreč preserves enough of its original decorative program to allow for a more detailed analysis. The recent study by Ann Terry and Henry Maguire, following a number of consistent articles by Terry on various aspects of the structure, has offered a clear image of the structure and its decoration.⁶³⁷ What Terry and Maguire have shown beyond doubt is that the Eufrasiana displays the same type of programmatic design and the same preoccupation with the creation of a luminous theophanic effect that I identified in San Vitale. Showing the same general relation between material and cultic space as in San Vitale, an awareness of the luminous dimension of materials and intention to create a hierarchical setting through space, decoration, and iconography, the basilica is clearly a product of the same concept of church space. Part of an episcopal complex composed also of a monumental baptistery, an episcopium, and a cella trichora, the church was raised by Eufrasius on the skeleton of an older, double basilica.⁶³⁸ The bishop, about whom very little is known apart from his mentioning by Bishop Pelagius I of Rome (sed. 556 – 61) in a letter from 559, boasted a construction ex nouo. The statement is contradicted by archaeological studies which revealed that Eufrasius rebuilt only the easternmost part, while for the rest he used much of the body of the previous basilica.⁶³⁹ The bishop’s contribution seems to have been more in terms of decoration than structure, the mosaic and opus sectile in the apses of the nave and aisles being in the latest, Justinianic fashion. The initial, striking feature of the structure is the predominance of the gold in the apse’s mosaic, which projects towards the nave a golden light. The effect is partially due to modern restorations that replaced the sixth-century tesserae with perfectly cubic ones that create a mirror effect. Placed at varying angles and having different sizes, the original tesserae had a more varied effect, and greater capacity to capture and recast light throughout the day. Despite this alteration, the golden luminosity was a characteristic of the sixth-century Eufrasiana, especially when compared with the multi-coloured mosaic decoration in San Vitale and Sant’Apollinare in Classe. Nevertheless, differences in artistic virtuosity and chromatic range between Ravenna and Poreč cannot veil the direct relation existing between the churches across the Adriatic and Eufrasius’ restoration. The

 Brusin and Zovatto :  – .  Terry , , , ; Terry and Maguire a.  On the complex, see Terry .  Terry and Maguire a:  and Terry : . On the dating, see Terry :  – . The inscription that claims the full reconstruction is translated in Terry and Maguire a:  – .

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style, part of the materials, and possibly even some of the artisans came from the Western capital.⁶⁴⁰ The figurative decoration extols the instrumental role played by the Virgin and the bishop in the revelation of the Divine Light. The triple Christic theophany found in St. Catherine’s and San Vitale is present, but the accent seems to be on the Virgin and, especially, the bishop. The dynamic might also have characterised San Vitale and Sant’Apollinare in Classe if their original sunthronon areas would have survived to attest it. The triumphal arch, its intrados, and the vault of the apse show the Incarnated, stylised, and eternal Christ, respectively. Flanked by apostles, the Christ on the triumphal arch was originally the bearded, Incarnated man, and likely sat on a throne, not a blue globe.⁶⁴¹ The Lamb on the intrados is a modern invention, the original image on the clipeus being lost. Nevertheless, as indicated by contemporary churches, the Lamb and the chi-rho appear as the logical choices. At the centre of the apse’s vault, intersecting the vertical and the horizontal axes of the iconography, the purple-clad Virgin holds in her lap the luminous Logos of God, the eternal light that she hosted in her womb. Dressed in gold, the child appears as the source of the luminous scene, with the chromatic palette corroborating the claim made above by the gospel held by the Christ shown on the arch: Ego sum lux uera. While the blue globe in San Vitale was pure contrast, the purple dress of the Virgin is a dynamic, active principle in the scene.⁶⁴² The colour translates visually the belief in the Virgin’s mediatory role, with contemporary poems praising her as creator, container, and mediator of the Light: Quam formam scalpsit tam super astra faber, ornans Hierusalem sanctam, speciosa uenustas, a facie templi uas in honore Dei, exuperans portas Sion splendore corusco, stans merito fidei gemma superba throni; ore diem iaculans, radios a fronte sagittans, luminibus rutilis lumen honore rotans, sidereum speculum, inlustris domus Omnipotentis; uultibus ex illis fulgura clara ferens, nomen honoratum, benedicta Maria per aeuum,

 Terry  argues pertinently for a Ravennate source of Eufrasius’ split palmette capitals, see esp. p. . See also Deichmann : ; Terry and Maguire a: .  Terry and Maguire a: .  On her purple attire, see Venantius Fortunatus In laud.  –  (ed. and trans. Reydellet : ) “Quam speciosum humeris inponit honoris amictum! Splendore ardescens purpura tincta nitent.” / “Quel magnifique vêtement de gloire Il dépose sur vos épaules! La pourpre qui le teint brille, enflammée de lumière.”

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ad laudem artificis nobilis artis opus, dulcis et angelico pretiosa puella relatu, omnes ultra homines dona decoris habens, inde rubore rosas, candore hinc lilia uincens, flos nouus ex terra, quod polus arce colat, crystallum electrum aurum ostrum concha alba zmaragdus: quo tua forma nitet, cuncta metalla iacent; nix premitur candore tuo, sol crinis honore, pallescunt radii, uirgo, decore tui, lychnites hebes est, cedit tibi Lucifer ardens, omnibus officiis lampade maior ades, occulti in terris sacramenti conscia summi, et secreta poli sunt patefacta tibi. ⁶⁴³

As noted by Michael Roberts, in Venantius’ poem, “Mary is a vision of color and light that communicates itself by reflection to her surroundings, emitting an undifferentiated, brilliantly colored radiance.”⁶⁴⁴ This was the very setting in the Eufrasiana, where the child and the Virgin reunite the vertical and the horizontal axes of the iconography, and generated a “simultaneous use of axiality, symmetry, and hierarchy.”⁶⁴⁵  Venantius Fortunatus In laud.  –  (ed. and trans. Reydellet : ) “Cette beauté l’ouvrier qui est si haut au-dessus des astres l’a sculptée, pour l’ornement de la sainte Jérusalem, elle est un charme séduisant, sortie de la façade du temple elle est un vase en l’honneur de Dieu; elle surpasse les portes de Sion par son éclat scintillant, elle est par le mérite de sa foi la gemme magnifique du trône; sa bouche fait jaillir le jour, son front darde des rayons, par des éclats étincelants elle fait tournoyer sa lumière dans la gloire, miroir céleste, demeure illustre du Tout-puissant; à ces formes de visages elle emprunte des éclairs lumineux; nom glorieux, Marie bienheureuse pour l’éternité, ouvrage d’un art supérieur pour la gloire de l’artisan, jeune fille douce et précieuse dans la bouche des anges, vous possédez les dons de la beauté comme nul parmi les blancheur, fleur nouvelle issue de la terre, objet digne en haut de la vénération du ciel; cristal, électrum, or, pourpre, nacre blanche, émeraude: là ou brille cotre beauté tous les métaux sont vaincus, la neige succombe à votre blancheur, le soleil sous la parure de vos cheveux, ses rayons pâlissent, vierge, sous l’effet de votre splendeur; le marbre est sans éclat, Lucifer enflammé s’efface devant vous; mieux qu’une lampe vous aidez à toutes les tâches; vous partagez le mystère le plus sublime caché sur terre et les secrets du ciel vous ont été dévoilés.” See also In laud.  –  (p. ) “O sacra uirgo Dei talem generando Maria, per quem lumen habet plebs tenebrosa prius! In regione umbrae mortis lux orta refulsit,” / “O Marie, sainte vierge de Dieu qui enfantez Celui par qui un peuple auparavant dans les ténèbres possède la lumière! Dans la région de l’ombre de la mort une lumière s’est levée et a resplendi…” and  –  (p. ) “Lumen sanctorum in splendoribus, ex utero quem ante Luciferum progenuitque pater.” / “Il est la lumière dans le rayonnement des saints, et Celui que le Père a engendré de Son sein avant l’aurore.”  Roberts /: .  Terry and Maguire a: .

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As in San Vitale, the main purpose of the scene was not didactic, but the production of the Divine Light. The careful construction of a hierarchy of areas and characters conferred credibility to the scene’s theophanic dimension, and the characters depicted in the apse both helped reproduce the increasingly luminous structure of heaven and became theophanies in their own right. The effect was reached through the choice of materials and a number of techniques that testify to the careful design of the space and, especially, the light effects. Apart from the usual association of the most sacred characters with the more luminous hues and textures, and the tilting of the golden tesserae downwards to project the light coming from the windows, the mosaicists used a number of other methods, such as the sprinkling of the hair of Jesus and of the archangels with golden tesserae, the use of orange cubes for the faces of prominent characters, and the radiance surrounding the saints’ bodies that indicate the care to generate a luminous hierarchy inside the decorative program.⁶⁴⁶ When just the figurative decoration is analysed, the iconographic program in the apse appears balanced. Nevertheless, if the dynamic of the entire space and, especially, that of the ritual are taken into consideration, the favouring of the vertical axis becomes evident. As in San Vitale, the bishop appears as intermediator between the living and depicted beings in the church. In line with the triple Christic theophany, the Virgin, and an archangel holding the symbol of cosmic dominion, the cathedra invests the one sitting on it with prerogatives taken from the scenes depicted above.⁶⁴⁷ While in Ravenna the bishop and the exarch shared the power, in Poreč the bishop seemed to raise a claim to absolute authority. Even in the absence of the Emperor, the Church in Ravenna had to recognise and promote the iconic dimension of the imperial couple due to the city being capital of the West. In the Christian community in Poreč, Eufrasius held alone the theophanic prerogative. The bishop’s iconic luminosity and precedence over the clergy are better discernible in Eufrasius’ program than in San Vitale, where the complexity of the scene and the destruction of the cathedra obscured it to a certain degree. Dressed in purple, a privilege that he alone shares with the Virgin, Eufrasius appeared as God’s embodiment. On his cathedra, the bishop reunited the sanctity of his person, signified by his depiction in heaven to the right of the Virgin, with that of the impe-

 See Terry and Maguire a:  on the tilting, p.  on the differentiated use of tesserae and the use of gold and orange glass, and p.  on the glow. On Konturlicht, see also Deichmann : .  The dynamic, representing “an unbroken chain of reference to Christ and to his earthly representatives” cf. Terry and Maguire a:  continues below the cathedra where the remains of Bishop Maurus, one of Eufrasius’ predecessors, were buried.

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rium represented by the purple of his attire and the globe offered by the archangel shown directly above him.⁶⁴⁸ The twenty-one large panels of opus sectile facing the wall above the sunthronon made use of thirty types of marble, glass in ten colours, and motherof-pearl arranged around large slabs of green and red porphyry.⁶⁴⁹ The wall revetment is unique in the richness of its stones and quantity of mother-ofpearl, and forms a fascinating background with reflective properties. As in San Vitale, the panels in Poreč provide the clergy with monumentalised halos, the impression being particularly strong in the case of the episcopal cathedra. ⁶⁵⁰ Eufrasius’ throne rises 1.3 meters above the pavement, being the highest point on the main processional axis and, as noted by Terry, the focus of the whole space.⁶⁵¹ Separated from the rest of the sunthronon through height and marble panels, the throne translated visually the bishop’s prominence over the clergy, along with his iconic character. The latter aspect is further catalysed by the iconography and the rhetoric of the materials used. Two mother-of-pearl candlesticks flank the throne—a monumentalisation of Fortunatus’ “inter candelabros radiabat”—testifying to the bishop’s pompa and sanctity.⁶⁵² Sitting against a surface of green porphyry crossed by a net of mother-of-pearl, the bishop received a halo made of what were held to be the brightest materials of the time, red porphyry and orange glass. The materials and the iconography testify to the designers’ intention to support the bishop’s luminosity through the decoration.⁶⁵³ The relation between San Vitale and the Eufrasiana is direct and obvious, with the two churches using the architecture and the decoration in the same manner to offer a sensuous experimentation of the Divine Light and to emphasise the iconicity of the bishop.⁶⁵⁴ The materials, constructive and decorative techniques, iconographic program and structuring, and, finally, the appropriation of the theophanic mise-en-scène indicate that Giuseppe Cuscito was right to link in absolute terms Eufrasius to Bishop Maximian of Ravenna (499 –

 On the globe as symbol of cosmic power in Late Antiquity, see Canuti .  Terry : ,  – . Even ivory inserts are present.  On the opus sectile in San Vitale, see above.  Terry : .  On them, see Terry : .  On the cross, see Terry :  –  who interprets the red porphyry semicircle with two orange glass bands as Golgotha and the rivers of paradise.  The theophanic theme is replicated in the apses of the aisles where fragmentary mosaics show Christ appearing from the clouds and giving crowns to martyrs/saints.

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556).⁶⁵⁵ Eufrasius’ restoration program shows that San Vitale’s complexity is not accidental but consciously constructed, with the exporting of the new type of ritual scene to Poreč testifying to its efficacy. Maximian’s role in the dissemination of the new type of setting can hardly be overstated. In Pola, the town where he was a deacon when appointed bishop of Ravenna, he commissioned an impressive basilica.⁶⁵⁶ Santa Maria del Canetto or formosa was a basilica of the Ravennate type, which combined Western and Eastern architectural features. Becoming quickly famous for its lavish decoration, the church appears as a combination between Sant’Apollinare in Classe and Galla Placidia’s Santa Croce, with two cruciform chapels being attached to the prothesis and the diakonikon. Of the entire structure, only one of these chapels survives. Fragments of mosaic and stucco decoration inside display a familiarity with the same media and techniques used in the Ravennate churches and the Eufrasiana.⁶⁵⁷ As noted by restorers, Maximian’s head and name in the emperor’s panel in San Vitale are a later insertion as stone tesserae were used in an otherwise completely glass mosaic.⁶⁵⁸ Shown without a halo, the bishop must have ordered the alteration himself, which indicates that at the time of his appointment the imperial panel was finished. Maximian cannot thus be credited with introducing the new type of cultic space to Ravenna but, as testified by Santa Maria formosa and Sant’Apollinare in Classe, he promoted it.⁶⁵⁹ Commissioned by Bishop Ursicinus (533 – 6), and paid for by the same Julianus Argentarius who funded San Vitale, Sant’Apollinare in Classe was dedicated two years after the octagonal church. Friedrich Wilhelm Deichmann credits Maximian with the entire decoration, and dated most of the building and all of the decoration to between 547 and 549.⁶⁶⁰ Since the quality of the decoration indicated better relations with the East than Ecclesius and his successors had had, Deichmann is probably right

 Cuscito :  considers Eufrasius “una creatura di Massimiano di Ravenna.” Identical constructive techniques and materials as in San Vitale, the so-called Julian bricks, were used in Poreč cf. Mazzotti :  – .  Ujčić : .  A late source mentions that the main inscription in the apse was in Greek cf. Kandler : . This indicates, I argue, Maximian’s orientation towards Byzantium rather then the Greek origin of the decorators since the language of the inscriptions is not decided by the artisans who, even if they cannot understand it, copy the text given to them.  Deliyannis : .  On Maximian, see Agnellus L.P.R.  – .  Deichmann a:  – . For an introduction on the church, see Deliyannis :  – ; Jäggi :  – . For a systematic analysis of the iconography, see Michael .

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in his assumption.⁶⁶¹ The decoration of the church, of which only the columns, the capitals, and the mosaics on the triumphal arch and in the apse remain, must have been exceptional, with Agnellus reporting in the ninth century that “No church in any part of Italy is similar to this one in precious stones, since they glow at night almost as much as they do during the day.”⁶⁶² Dismantled and carried off to Rimini in the fifteenth century to be included in the decoration of the Tempio Malatestiano, the richness of the marble decoration of Sant’Apollinare in Classe can still be discerned in Alberti’s building.⁶⁶³ The structure is a unique combination of Western and Eastern architectural features, with Deichmann believing that “Die Basilika von Classe muss das ganz persönliche Werk eines grossen Architekten sein.”⁶⁶⁴ With the original atrium lost, one cannot tell if the axial processional path cutting through the narthex and into the nave continued through the atrium and into the space of the town. The nine doors (three in the narthex and three on each lateral wall), the level difference between the nave and the aisles (the nave was ca. 35 cm higher), and the 12 meter long solea closed initially with a low chancel indicate that the theatricality of the clerical entrance was emphasised. The community was given the possibility of witnessing the dramatic procession all the way from the entrance to the apse.⁶⁶⁵ Oriented according to Giuliano Romano with the apse towards the sunrise on the date of St. Apollinaris’ celebration,⁶⁶⁶ the basilica received light through fifty-six windows opening in the side walls (twelve on each side), clerestory (twelve on each side), western facade (three), and apse (five). In the area of the apse, the luminosity appears to grow due to the presence of the mosaic. Nevertheless, with the original decoration in place, the contrast between nave and apse would have been less obvious. Raised at a later point to allow the construction of a crypt, the floor of the apse does not preserve the original pavement,

 The twenty-four columns in Classe are more beautiful than the ones in San Vitale, being of the most appreciated kind, with horizontal veins. Also, under the mosaic in the apse sinopie that were not respected were found, indicating that the iconographic program was changed, perhaps at Maximian’s intervention. The depiction of the Ravennate bishops with the pallium, the symbol of the archbishop that only Maximian received further stresses the relation between him and the iconography in Classe. By attributing retroactively the title to the bishops of Ravenna, the local church’s autocephaly was strengthened. On the sinopie, see Bovini .  Agnellus L.P.R.  (trans. Deliyannis : ).  Ricci .  Deichmann : .  On the ceremonial entrance, see Taft :  – ; de Blaauw : ; Mainstone [] :  – .  Romano : .

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Fig. 45. Reconstructed floor plan of Sant’Apollinare in Classe (549). From Deichmann 1976b: pl. 50.

sunthronon, and cathedra. ⁶⁶⁷ The mosaics on the arch and apse went through various sessions of restoration and replacement, the most important under Bishop Reparatus (sed. 671– 7). Two mosaic panels, one showing Emperor Constantine IV (ca. 652– 85) conferring privileges to the church of Ravenna, and the other Melchizedek, Abel, and Abraham sacrificing to God, appear based on the similar ones in San Vitale, and are dated to the seventh century. Although altered, the iconographic program still manages to transmit the intended message. More unfortunate is the loss of the sunthronon area where the mediation between the decoration and the community was enacted. The appeal of Sant’Apollinare in Classe’s iconography lies in the paradox generated by its apparent simplicity and the complexity of its symbolism.⁶⁶⁸ Made under Maximian, the figurative decoration uses the theophanic dimension in the same manner as in Poreč, to stress the iconicity of the bishop. The program amounts to “an apotheosis of the episcopal office that has no equal in Christian

 On the crypt, see Deichmann a: ; Ianucci :  – .  Michael . See also Simpson :  – ; Nordström ; Deichmann :  –  and a:  – ; Fox .

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art”.⁶⁶⁹ Indeed, the apparent simplicity of the composition stresses the role played by the bishop, shown at the centre. If analysed taking into consideration his role in the ritual and relation to the cathedra, sunthronon, and altar, it becomes evident that it is the portrait of Apollinaris, as opposed to the jewelled cross materialising on the blue oculus, that focuses the space. Floating in the space between the Christic symbol and the altar, the first bishop of Ravenna both synthesises and exacerbates the iconic potential of the episcopal office.

Fig. 46. Mosaic decoration of the triumphal arch and apse of Sant’Apollinare in Classe (549). Photo by P. Dell’Angelo.

The stylised Transfiguration, which shows the cross flanked by the busts of Moses and Elijah, and Peter, John, and Jacob as sheep, sends also to the Crucifixion and the Second Coming. Fused, the three scenes increase the theophanic dimension of the setting. Nevertheless, as indicated by the non-anthropomorphic character of the apostles, the scene is not meant to offer a rendition of the theophany, but to support Apollinaris’ Christic character. The saint, I argue, impersonates Christ. His cruciform posture, the substitution of Christ with the cross, Apollinaris’ position in relation to the cross, and his placement

 Simpson : . Deichmann :  reads the scene as a visual praise of the church of Ravenna.

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at the centre of twelve sheep create a relation in which Apollinaris is the embodiment of Christ. The bishop’s stance is a reminder of the depictions of the Crucifixion on the doors of Santa Sabina and on one of the Palestinian ampullae preserved in Monza where Jesus is shown on the cross in a position similar to that of orant. Furthermore, the spatial relation between the cruciform body of the bishop and the oculus above is reminiscent of the crosses topped by a chi-rho inscribed in a circle, as on the fourth-century Lateran Sarcophagus 164, or by a clipeus of Christ, like in the mosaic in Santo Stefano Rotondo and the stylised crucifixion shown on one of the ampullae from Monza. Both references stressed the identification of Apollinaris with Christ, relation helped by his martyr status.⁶⁷⁰ In the so-called mausoleum of Galla Placidia, the scene at the apex of the vault shows the cross against a dark blue sky punctuated by ninety-nine golden stars. Placed in a concentric manner and gradually shrinking as they get further from the cross, the scene gives the impression that the cross materialises in the space of the chapel.⁶⁷¹ In Classe, an opposite effect is sought. The oculus stresses the visionary character of the apparition, but also detaches God spatially from the community by projecting the cross on a distant sky. Concomitantly, Apollinaris and his successor on the cathedra made present in the clearest of terms the Divine Presence, the former through his placement in between the cross and the community, and the latter through his imparting of the Word (the sermon) and Body (the Eucharist) of God. Sitting on the cathedra below Apollinaris or officiating at the altar, the living bishop was in line with the cross and the saint, embodying his predecessor’s Christic stance. One can hardly find a more direct expression of Dionysius’ system of downward specular projection of the Divine Image and Light than this scene where the cross, the saint, and the living bishop substantiate it in a progression that goes from the abstract cross, through the vague presence of the mosaic portrait, and to the materiality of the living body. The symbolic capital of Apollinaris, gained through the revelatory dimension of the setting, was invested by the designer of the space in his living successor. Whether sitting on the cathedra or standing in front of the altar, the living bishop would have been perceived by the congregation in the nave and aisles as intermediating the power and authority of God. Embodying the episcopal office in the manner of Apollinaris, and fleshing out the Divine Presence, he was the focus of the space and ritual.

 According to Peter Chrysologus Serm. , Apollinaris was a confessor who died from the wounds but was praised as martyr.  Swift and Alwis : .

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II.1.8 Conclusion Nadine Schibille noted that both Procopius of Caesarea and Paul the Silentiary described the shimmer of the marble and mosaic in Hagia Sophia using the same term that Dionysius used for the Glory as reflected by divine beings.⁶⁷² The detail testifies both to the three authors’ belonging to the same intelligentsia that combined Christian and non-Christian motifs, and to the desire to assimilate the light inside Justinian’s cathedral with the Divine Light. As pointed out by Venantius Fortunatus, to the Late Antique person, the luminous ambiance was the very testimony of God’s presence inside these buildings: Emicat aula potens diuino plena sereno, ut merito placeat hic habitare Deo. ⁶⁷³

Whether it was the creation of a scene used to legitimise the clerical and the imperial hierarchy, as in Hagia Sophia, the desire to offer a complete theophanic experience as in San Vitale and St. Catherine in Sinai, or a visual discourse on the bishop’s iconicity as in Classe and Poreč, the programs of these churches relied on their capacity to flesh out the serene light of heaven.⁶⁷⁴ Using similar spatial, decorative, and rhetorical techniques, and drawing on the symbolic depth of the same motifs to assure the desired reception of the mise-en-scène, the designers of these spaces responded to the expectations of their audience. The success of the endeavour is testified by its influence on the imagination of their contemporaries, who came to perceive heaven in their dreams and visions in the terms seen in churches.⁶⁷⁵ The process resembles that studied by Barbara Rosenwein, who argued that the emotional norms of Christian communities were anchored in certain spaces.⁶⁷⁶ Similarly, I believe, their image of heaven was moulded by its depiction in local cultic buildings. The enculturation process having

 Schibille : .  Venantius Fortunatus Carm. .. –  (ed. and trans. Reydellet :  – ) “La basilique majesteuse étincelle, emplie d’une sérénité divine, si bien qu’à juste titre Dieu aime y habiter.”  Macrides and Magdalino :  argued that cultic architecture substantiated heaven on earth while Janes :  stated that “in these buildings we are looking at the dreams and hopes of a civilization.”  See Gregory of Tours Hist. Franc. . where Salvias has a vision of heaven moulded on a Late Antique church with gleaming floors, indescribable spaciousness, and an inexpressible light, and Glor. Conf.  where the bishop of Clermont sees a group of white-clad people holding candles and singing at the tomb of his predecessor.  Rosenwein : . On the psychological process, see de Nie , esp. p. .

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these cultic structures as final scene managed to impose a new aesthetic taste, a new cosmic structure, and, especially, what Peter Brown called “the ‘othering’ of the clergy”.⁶⁷⁷ Michael Roberts noted that in Venantius’ poetry the qualities of the built structures were often said to reflect those of the founder.⁶⁷⁸ Present also in the epigram in the Archbishops’ chapel in Ravenna and in the work of Ennodius of Pavia, the detail synthesises the anthropological dimension of this architecture which, at the passing from Late Antiquity to the Early Middle Ages, consolidated the bishop’s status in the community. Given that it was as light that sanctity manifested in both the case of the structure and of the holy person, the aura of the space reflected that of its founder, the structure being a discourse on the sanctity of the bishop. In his seminal study on the emergence of the cult of the saints in the Latin West, Peter Brown stated that “The leaders of the Christian community found themselves in a difficult position. They had all the means of social dominance, and none of the means of showing it in an acceptable form.”⁶⁷⁹ The anthropological dimension of these structures, the manner in which they invest the figure of the bishop with an aura indicates that they represented the bishops’ solution to the problem the Irish scholar noted. The effects of the process superseded those of ancient evergetism—the ancient practice of wealthy individuals distributing part of their wealth to the community for prestige. The construction of revelatory spaces having at the centre the head of the clerical hierarchy altered the perception of his ontological status. In the otherworldly, shimmering light of Late Antique churches, the materiality of human remains and of living bodies grew uncertain. While the former, as pointed out by Patricia Cox Miller, became relics, the latter went through a process of spiritualisation. Connecting the human hierarchy with the heavenly one, the bishop was the catalyst of this alchemic process.

 Brown : .  Roberts : , .  Brown : .

III Conclusion Like the hero of Apuleius’ Metamorphoses, the Christian taking part in baptism and the Eucharistic liturgy came to stand on “the very threshold of the light” as the interior of the cultic building prompted his or her participation in heavenly realities. The assimilation of the light used in the ritual with its divine counterpart began with the desire to reproduce the light attested at the baptism of Jesus, and eventually led to the creation of complex ritual stages on which a number of techniques substantiated light as an attribute of the divine. The revelatory potential of light as it reflected on anointed bodies prompted the placing of baptism at night, and the building of monumental baptisteries in which the initiate encountered the luminous image of his or her God, which transformed him or her after its likeness, into an ambulant theophany. Catalysed by the disappearance of martyrdom, by access to resources, and by the Christological debates of the time, fourth- and fifth-century baptism received a mise-en-scène that claimed to collapse heaven and earth. As it addressed an audience whose symbolic vocabulary and ritual expectations were moulded by Late Antique society writ large, baptism offered an experience that was recognised as efficient. The interpretative possibilities of the audience of baptism emerge from the difference between pre- and post-baptismal discourses. Along with the illumination, which revealed the setting of baptism around the image of a nocturnal sun, the recognition of pre-baptismal lectures and preparation as perceptual manipulation instruments indicates the staged character of the experience. Addressed taking into consideration these elements, Late Antique baptism appears as a Christianised version of the kind of ritual experience offered by most cults in the period, with bishops offering to catechumens what they expected and hoped to find. The perception of the baptisands’ materiality changed with the illumination, a technique that was concurrently developing in diurnal spaces of the Eucharistic liturgy as well. Built according to a coherent design, churches dating from the reign of Justinian perfected the technique, and manipulated one’s perception of the clergy’s ontological status. Dealing with an audience that was insufficiently Christianised,⁶⁸⁰ and struggling to impose a new socio-political and religious order in post-Roman society, the sixth-century Christian intelligentsia used the ritual stage to legitimise the worldview it promoted. While essentially polysemous, as they had to address an audience with varied backgrounds and had to allow for multiple interpretative possibilities, the interiors we looked at relied on an aesthetic of light.  Kreider .

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Given the appeal of light in the period, it appears that the luminous dimension was the one element recognisable by all as revelatory, with bishops using it to legitimise the settings and the ritual performances. Embedded in the design, the luminosity provided the basis on which the rest of the rhetorics were constructed. Meant to impress and to convince, the interior of churches built under Justinian transmitted a message of dominance, in a space that reproduced the cosmic structure.⁶⁸¹ Fleshed out through a careful selection and positioning of apertures, materials, and colours, the light inside these spaces legitimised the ritual and the other symbolic dimensions of the space, and offered a theophanic experience.⁶⁸² The latter was enacted using a common code since, as pointed out by Dominic Janes, “People’s visual symbolic language was rooted largely outside the Church. Therefore, Christian propaganda necessitated secular metaphors, or else such arguments would not have been comprehensible to the masses. […] The Church adopted many of the images as well as the ways of that world. This enabled the new sect to communicate effectively and so to bring about the maximum number of conversions.”⁶⁸³ As testified by Dionysius, the ritual performances were orchestrated with that part of society in mind which “lacking in reason have a limitless appetite for the material”.⁶⁸⁴ To these, he declares, bishops before his time, had shown in baptism a glimpse of the divine glory through counterfeits,⁶⁸⁵ while in his own time the liturgy reflected “as in a spotless mirror” its divine counterpart.⁶⁸⁶ What such settings symbolised to the educated audience was explored by Nadine Schibille’s recent study. To the hoi polloi, I hope to have shown, the mise-en-scènes were materialisations of the divine. Indeed, far from being anagogical, these experiences offered a real participation into divine realities. Although the interiors and the performances promoted a number of discourses, depending on the audience and liturgical moment, it was the figure of the bishop that benefitted most from the process. Indeed, promoting the views of this clerical category, the spaces not only reflected their views but  The progressive sequence in churches is similar to the one found in the Orthodox Baptistery, in San Vitale the vertical momentum being replaced by a horizontal one. As in mithraea, one’s advancement through the space prompted its ascension through the cosmic structure.  Of this, Dionysius speaks with contempt from the point of view of the mystagogue who contemplated God directly: “They [the mystagogues] do not gaze after that glory so stupidly praised by the mob […] they have no time to return to the counterfeits which beguile the mob.” (Eccl. Hier. .., ed. PG .AB, trans. Luibheid and Rorem : ).  Janes :  – , respectively .  Dionysius Cael. Hier. . (ed. PG .D-A, trans. Luibheid and Rorem : ).  Dionysius Eccl. Hier. .. (ed. PG .AB).  Dionysius Cael. Hier. . (PG .A).

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also moulded their apprehension by the audience. While the luminous dimension represented the basis of the visual rhetoric enacted through these spaces, the episcopal one reflected their main effect. As pointed out by Peter Brown, bishops who in many western cities emerged as leaders of the local communities in the late- and post-Roman periods used church space to express their potentia. While in baptism neophytes substantiated the Divine Image and Presence, in the Eucharistic liturgy the accent fell on the summus sacerdos. Using techniques developed by emperors to stimulate their perception as divine, bishops and their architects designed churches as ritual stages meant to render them iconic. The enthroned position, the immobility, the association with the written and spoken Word (the Gospel and the sermon) and the Eucharist, the spatial relation to the iconography and the rest of the clergy; all translated into a discourse on the iconic, sacred character of the bishop. Legitimised by the luminosity that characterised the scene, the process led to the transformation of the bishop into an angelic or heavenly being rather than an epískopos (guardian, overseer). Marking a volte face regarding belief in the material world’s potential to host and represent the divine, this willingness to stage the ritual experience inside cultic spaces is the more surprising as it follows a period of “sensory austerity”⁶⁸⁷ and it was promoted by what are generally considered to be the generations of the most orthodox bishops. The phenomenon finds its logic, I believe, in the bishops’ desire to Christianise the mundus. As argued by Brown, Christianity had only replaced the head of a complex structure, leaving the rest in place.⁶⁸⁸ The recognition of the material world’s iconic dimension in the context of the Christological debates demanded the Christianisation of the created world. Concomitantly, the bishops worked on the “re-investment of one’s sensory appetite”⁶⁸⁹ towards the divine in nature, distracting the communities’ attention from pagan phenomena so present in the late-Roman society. The fleshing out of the Divine Presence through synaesthetic sacraments, technique amounting to a “phenomenology of enchantment”,⁶⁹⁰ was used to alter the perception of the ritual, its material context, and the participants. The ritual performance offered to the audience the type of experience it sought. The ritual settings went from a symbolic to a more concrete manifestation, a tendency catalysed by the phenomena surrounding the Iconoclastic movement. With the victory of “a more literalist popular and monastic piety, precisely in favour of a less abstractly symbolic and more representational, figurative religious    

Ashbrook Harvey : . Brown :  – . Biernoff : . See also Cox Miller  and Hahn : . Isar : , cf. also Cox Miller : .

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art”,⁶⁹¹ the ritual settings and performances were confirmed as “real” participations into divine realities rather than “copies”, “shadows”, or “reflections”. Patriarch Germanus of Constantinople (sed. 715 – 30) could thus affirm that “The church is heaven on earth, where the God of heaven dwells and move.”⁶⁹² The bold affirmation has its roots, I hope to have shown, in Late Antique efforts to materialise the divine and, within Christianity, in the equally audacious statement Gregory of Nazianzus had his baptisands declare: “I am myself the Image of God; I have not yet been cast down from the heavenly Glory, as you were through your pride; I have put on Christ; I have been transformed into Christ by Baptism; worship me.”⁶⁹³ The selective use of light in baptisteries and its extensive use in churches produced the same effect due to the nocturnal and, respectively, diurnal setting of the two sacraments. Both the nocturnal suns found in baptisteries and the complex settings inside Justinianic churches altered the materiality of the person at the centre of the ritual. Transported to heaven by the space and ritual, the person was brought before the throne of God: “through the economy of Him who died for us […] we are no longer on earth but standing before the royal throne of God in heaven, where Christ is…”⁶⁹⁴ On the throne, incarnating Christ, was the bishop.

   

Taft /: . Germanus of Constantinople Hist. Myst.  (trans. Taft /: ). Gregory of Nazianzus Or. . (ed. PG .A, trans. NPNF .). Germanus of Constantinople Hist. Myst.  (trans. Taft /: ).

IV Excursus: The Tempietto Longobardo in Cividale The last of the structures we will look at takes us away from the shores of the Adriatic. Hosting after 569 the first Lombard duchy in Italy, Cividale del Friuli, the ancient Forum Iulii, remained an important political centre throughout the Lombard dominion of the peninsula. Culturally, the town seems to have maintained the late Roman tradition, following that in the seventh and eighth centuries a revival movement under the patronage of the Lombard dukes took place.⁶⁹⁵ The oratory of Santa Maria in Valle, also known as the Tempietto longobardo, is the most coherent and beautiful exponent of the constructive style that combined Roman, Lombard, and Byzantine elements, and manifested with local particularities in the main Lombard political centres.⁶⁹⁶ The small building, initially a martyrium or cappella palatina, has received a great deal of scholarly attention, with researchers debating its belonging to either late Lombard or early Carolingian culture.⁶⁹⁷ Modern restoration campaigns helped the understanding of the original structure, and indicated the middle of the eighth century as probable date.⁶⁹⁸ Built by either Aistulf (744– 56) or Desiderius (756– 74), after Cividale conquered Classe (725) and Ravenna (751), the Tempietto testifies to the resilience of light as element connecting architecture, decoration, and ritual. Analysis of the role light played in the setting reveals the theophanic dimension of the program.

 Riché :  “nous pouvons supposer que le Frioul était une des rares régions d’Italie du Nord où la culture hellénique n’avait pas totalement disparu.” Paul the Deacon (ca.  – ), born and educated in Friuli, studied physics, logic, and moral. On the “renaissance” and the cultural fabric of its promoters, see Gaberscek a; Gaspari : .  On the combination of the three styles, see Kiilerich . On the revival of sculpture in Friuli between Liutprand ( – ) and Desiderius, see Gaberscek . On the purpose of the oratory, see Torp : .  Scholars have either ascribed it to the late Lombard period, to the early Carolingian, or seen it as begun under the former and finished under the latter. On the dating and major theses see the synthesis in Jäggi :  – .  Particularly relevant for the dating is the Carbon test made on the reeds inside the stucco in the Church of Ss. Salvatore and Giulia in Brescia. Similar to the one in Cividale, the stucco decoration in Brescia was dated to the middle of the eighth century, see Brogiolo :  – . This comes to sustain the thesis of Torp :  –  and L’Orange :  who both held the structure to be late Lombard rather than early Carolingian,

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IV.1 Between East and West Attesting to the importance of the dux of Cividale in the eighth century is the election of Ratchis (739 – 44) as king of the Lombards in 744, as well as the imperial dimension and exquisite character of the Tempietto’s decoration, which indicate the wide cultural horizon of the local aristocracy. Built next to the church of St. John (7th century), the traditional patron of the Lombards, the small oratory was hosting an important collection of relics, perhaps acquired in 662, when dux Lupo (662– 3) sacked the ecclesiastical treasure of the Patriarchate of Grado.⁶⁹⁹ While the rhetoric of the materials in the Tempietto testifies to the continuation of the decorative technique we have seen developing so far, the iconography evinces the local leader’s turn towards the Byzantine cultural sphere. Combining Roman spolia, Lombard interpretations of late-Roman motifs, and Byzantine virtuosity, the space reflects its eclectic cultural milieu. The programmatic approach attested by restorers, the use of various decorative media, and the richness of the decoration all plea for the Tempietto’s ideal character, with the combination of the three cultural influences being made in optimal terms. Already a generation before the construction of the Tempietto, the transfer of the episcopal see from Aquileia to Cividale prompted the building of cultic structures of the kind we have been analysing. The altar of Ratchis and the baptistery ciborium of Bishop Calixtus (737– 57) evince both the continuous relevance of the solar dimension, and the connection between the figure of the bishop and monumental baptisteries. Realised in a rudimentary style, the ciborium attests that the efficacy of the mise-en-scène overcame material and technical difficulties, with the scene maintaining its relevance in the new cultural context.⁷⁰⁰ The metal hooks still in place on the ciborium and the candlesticks carved on one of the facets indicate both the symbolic and ritual importance of lights.⁷⁰¹ The Majestas Christi on the altar of Ratchis shows similarities to the manner in which

 Torp : .  While artistic virtuosity might have declined, the appreciation of the jewelled style was maintained, as testified by the inscription in the church of St. Athanasius at Corteolona which praised the decoration provided by King Liutprand ( – ). Rabanus Maurus (ca.  – ) De clericorum institutione . –  describes a ritual that is very similar to the one we have seen (mentioning the ephphatha, the recovering of the Image, and the white garments), thus testifying to the survival also of the Late Antique concept of baptism in the period.  Upon his move from Aquileia to Cividale, Calixtus built an episcopal complex composed of a cathedral, a baptistery, and an episcopium. The use of a ciborium in the baptistery imitates the situation in Aquileia, as does the placement of the baptistery in axis with the church’s main entrance. It appears that Calixtus replicated the Aquilean practice. On the ciborium, see Gaberscek b.

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Sol appeared in the same period in the Santa Maria de Lara church, near Quintanilla de las Viñas, and to the depiction of Christ as Sol in the manuscript of Gregory of Tours’ De cursu stellarum made in Italy.⁷⁰² In the Tempietto as well, the symbolic potential of light is put to use, with two of the six extant stucco figures that flank one of the façade windows turning towards it in a sign of reverence.⁷⁰³ The scene has received a great deal of scholarly attention, being considered an adoration of Christ represented by the physical light entering the window. Associated with the similar “Deesis” found in the ninth-century chapel of St. Zeno in Rome, the scene in Cividale indicates the importance ascribed to light as a manifestation of God at the passing from Late Antiquity to the Early Middle Ages.⁷⁰⁴ Fascinating as it is, the thesis finds little support in contemporary sources, with the level of abstraction presupposed by the adoration of just the natural light coming through the window being unattested.⁷⁰⁵ The scene, I argue, reveals its meaning when the purpose of the oratory and the role light played in the mise-en-scène are taken into account.

IV.2 The Tempietto The small building (ca. 10 x 6 m) is composed of two spaces, a square aula and a rectangular presbytery. Despite their size, the distinct character of the two areas is evident, stressed by the different height, the difference in pavement level, and the short chancel that separates them.⁷⁰⁶ The aula is covered with a groin vault and is 5 meters taller than the presbytery, where two pairs of columns sustain three barrel vaults.⁷⁰⁷ The presbytery, only 4 meters wide, appears as an area of display. Indeed, given its size, the space does not seem meant to host liturgical

 Bamberg Staatsbibliothek MS Patr. , fol. r.  Initially there were twelve figures. Apart from the six extant ones there were three on both the north and south walls.  L’Orange , :  and  – ; :  ff; Thunø :  – ; Kiilerich : ; Bolgia : .  Such an approach appears against the general trend attested by the nd Canon of the Quinisext Council from  which established that the symbols of Christ should be replaced with His portrait because “the perfect should be set down before everybody’s eyes even in painting.” (trans. Mango [] : ).  The aula is ca.  x  meters and  meters high while the presbytery is ca.  x  meters with a height of just . meters cf. Torp : . The chancel was initially between the double columns in the presbytery cf. Jäggi : .  The vault of the aula is not original, the initial one falling after an earthquake, probably during the Middle Ages.

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Fig. 47. Floor plan and section of the Tempietto Longobardo, Cividale (ca. 750). After Barral i Altet 1998: 189, modified.

performances. Rather, it provided the context for a select audience to pray in the presence of relics.⁷⁰⁸ One can imagine the presence of reliquary caskets in precious metal displayed in the presbytery. The sills of the presbytery’s windows are cut at an angle to allow light to fall downwards, perhaps in order to illuminate and visually stress such objects. The same range of materials that we encountered in San Vitale is present in the Tempietto, that is, stucco, marble, and mosaic. The lower part of the walls was covered in a marble facing that gave way to fresco and stucco registers. While in the presbytery the painted strip bears the dedicatory inscription, in the aula standing male saints are shown against fictive architectural units. Of the highest quality and bearing stylistic similarities with the decoration of other Lombard churches, the stucco’s abstract and figurative elements were originally painted.⁷⁰⁹ Inside the stucco arches above the entrance door on the west wall and corresponding niches on the south and north ones, fresco scenes were painted. Above the door, the bust of Christ flanked by two angels is depicted. Of the remaining two scenes, only that on the north wall remains, showing the Virgin Hodegetria, seated on a throne while holding the Child and flanked by standing archangels. One small surface of red mosaic is still in situ on the wall next to

 Torp :  identifies it as an oratory/reliquary. The spatial relation between the church and the oratory is consistent with that of martyria, see e. g. San Vittore in ciel d’oro in Milan. Other cases are quoted by Torp : .  Dell’Acqua :  –  believes the Tempietto served as model for Brescia and Milan where similar stucco decoration with glass ampullae produced by the same workshop was used.

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Fig. 48. Presbytery of the Tempietto Longobardo, Cividale (ca. 750). © FotoCiol.

one of the windows of the presbytery. The ceiling of both the presbytery and the aula were covered in mosaic, as indicated by the presence of tesserae found during the restoration campaigns.⁷¹⁰ The presence of red mosaic decoration next to the windows in the more sacred space points to the use of the same scale in which luminosity and sanctity overlapped, and which was based on the identification of certain hues as more luminous than others. The relation between the two spaces appears similar to that between the apse and presbytery in San Vi-

 Torp :  –  who mentions the hues of the recovered tesserae: gold, red, ocra, orange, light green, light blue, blue, dark blue, light beige, white, and maybe one silver cube.

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Fig. 49. Western wall of the Tempietto Longobardo, Cividale (ca. 750), seen from the presbytery. © FotoCiol.

tale, with the sacristy standing for the distant heaven and the nave for the area where heaven and earth met. Realised almost in the round, the stucco figures helped integrate the human with the divine, as the prophets did in the Baptistery. The aula provided the space where heaven and earth overlapped through the power of the ritual or intermediated by the presence of the relics in the presbytery. The representation of the saints in a manner that substantiated their presence conferred credibility to the mise-en-scène as a space suitable for both human and divine beings. The decoration indicates the identity of the oratory’s audience. Credited with such quasi-angelic status in the period were members of

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the clergy and emperors, both present in the stucco and painted decoration of the aula.⁷¹¹ The careful rendering of the costumes as well as the presence of earring holes testify to the desire of the decorators to represent the persons in a realistic manner that stressed their presence. The stucco figures intermediated the transition between their successors on the floor level and heaven above. The inscription mentioning the pios auctores indicates that it was the dux and his wife rather than the bishop who deserve credit for the foundation. Written in whitesilvery letters on a purple background, the dedicatory inscription represents an aulic motif found also in the cappella palatina of Arechis II (758 – 87) in Salerno, and in the church built by Desiderius in Brescia.⁷¹² Contemporary to the construction of the Tempietto, the two testify to the Lombard leaders borrowing imperial motifs from the Roman tradition and Byzantine practice.⁷¹³ In Cividale, the relation between the program and the emperor in Constantinople can be further explored, with the western wall of the chapel appearing to this author to be inspired by the imperial Chrysotriklinos. As argued, the famous room placed the imperial throne in a spatial relation that was similar to that of the bishop’s cathedra in Justinianic churches.⁷¹⁴ Sitting in the Constantinopolitan room under the image of Christ, the emperor appeared as His embodiment and representative. The same type of scene is present in Cividale where the person standing in the main doorway appeared as an embodiment of Christ, shown above in painting and symbolised by the window.⁷¹⁵ The stucco motif decorating the entrance is exceptionally complex,

 Two of the twelve painted saints are clergy members and ten lay, while of the six stucco figures two are wearing the monastic palla and four the attire of rulers. On the imperial clothes, see Torp : . For a reconstruction of their polychromy, see Kiilerich .  The use of golden letters in public inscriptions and of purple were imperial prerogatives. Arechi II, the son-in-law of Desiderius was perhaps of Friulan origin cf. Gaspari : . On the inscriptions, see Badini ; Peduto et al. ; Mitchell .  Castelfranchi :  –  argued that Arechis II adopted the Byzantine style visible in the cappella after Charles the Great put an end to the Lombard kingdom in . On the use of art by the dukes, see Mitchell . See Torp :  – ,  on the Hodegetria that was chosen as protector of Byzantine emperors from  on and is present in the Tempietto.  See the Greek Anth. .. The relation emperor-Christ had received a symbolic impetus in the seventh century cf. Louth :  “the Quinisext Synod invested a clearly articulated theological significance in religious art, and the process observed since the end of the sixth century of authenticating political authority by imagery invoking the supernatural was, as we have seen, taken a stage further at the end of the [seventh] century with the appearance of the image of Christ on the obverse of imperial coinage, the imperial image being consigned to the reverse.”  The embodying of God by a living representative continued to be an important intercessional paradigm after the sixth century, Maximus the Confessor Ambigua PG . (trans. Tsakiridou :  – ) speaking of the saint as “wholly imprinting and forming God alone in him-

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stressing the iconic dimension of the scene it frames, and to which the image of Christ appears to be the symbolic key. The similarity between the door and window registers (one showing Christ and the other His symbol flanked by adoring figures) invites the existence of a similar setting below, rendering the door a highly symbolic, Christic space. Shallow niches on the north and south walls that were crowned initially with stucco arches similar to the one above the door probably held the stucco statues of the Virgin and St. John, which further catalysed the Christic dimension of the doorway by creating a Deesis.⁷¹⁶ The stage was set for the dux to make a dramatic entrance to the cultic space. Standing in the doorway, he appeared as Christ’s representative on earth.

IV.3 The Use and Meaning of Light The small oratory is particularly well lit. Oriented towards east and ad fluminis, the three windows of the presbytery received sunlight without impediments. Placed slightly higher than the other two, the central window of the presbytery gains symbolic precedence over them, which supports Hjalmar Torp’s contention that the triple structure was hosting a Deesis with Christ flanked by the Virgin and St. John.⁷¹⁷ Tinted red by the mosaic adorning the ceiling, the light helped the association of the sacristy with heaven. Of the five windows in the aula, two on each lateral wall and one on the west one, the two on the south received light directly throughout the year. Flanked by the stucco figures that seem to adore it, the window on the western wall appears as a symbol of the Divine Light. I remain sceptical regarding the possibility of the direct assimilation of the natural light entering the window with the Divine Light. As my study has shown, there was a need for material, corporeal manifestations, with light being substantiated during the ritual either by the decoration elements or by the bodies of the neophyte and bishop. Placed in the west, the window on the facade received direct sunlight only in the afternoon. Not knowing the type of liturgical service for which the structure was designed and its schedule, I cannot speculate further on the relation between sunlight, the win-

self, so that by grace he himself ‘is God and is called God’ […] man is made God by divinization […] For the Word of God and God wills always and in all things to accomplish the mystery of his embodiment.”  Inside the stucco arch on the north wall, the image of the Virgin Hodegetria flanked by angels is depicted, indicating that the Virgin or a person adoring her was featured below, in the space of the niche.  Torp : .

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dow, and the ritual. During the morning hours, the window would have, at most, gleamed with light, but in summer afternoons, the effect could have been impressive.⁷¹⁸ Nevertheless, while it cannot be denied that the two figures address the window in reverence, I believe that the relation needs to be nuanced. As in other cases, the light probably enhanced the theophanic dimension of an iconographic motif, rather than representing the divine on its own. The symbolic dimension of a window could have been variously stressed in the period. Literary and archaeological sources show that one could have made use of coloured glass as in Jarrow, paint the window with symbolic figures as in Paris, or perhaps even insert a lead and glass vitraille as in Volturno.⁷¹⁹ While any of the three techniques could have worked for the scene in Cividale, I follow the thesis of Hjalmar Torp and Hans Peter L’Orange and propose the use of a transenna.⁷²⁰ The sixth- or seventh-century one currently in the deposits of the Bode-Museum in Berlin, said to be of Istrian limestone, perfectly synthesises the symbolic capacity of such an object. Carved into the limestone are a rhocross with hanging Α and Ω in the upper part and two icon-like oculi in its lower half. The perforated screen transformed the light coming through it into an iconographic motif. Surrounded by flames, the central oculus bore a strong solar reminiscence, the rays attesting Martin Wallraff’s contention that the cross inscribed in a circle was a solar motif in Late Antiquity. As testified by the corporeality of the stucco figures, we are still in a period when the cultic building’s interior strove to substantiate the Presence rather than to represent it in an abstract manner. Whether simply coloured or decorated with an iconographic motif, the window must have had its symbolic dimension stressed beyond the simple association of Christ and natural light.

 I thank Arch. Alessandro Lantero for calculating the relation between the Tempietto’s windows and the sun.  For Jarrow the Christ figure made by Cramp  from the extant pieces of window glass is contested by Dell’Acqua who dates the Volturno grisaille before , see Dell’Acqua :  – . In Paris, one of the church’s  windows had depicted on it the hand of God and the uiuentes cf. Hibernicus Exul (ca. ) Carm. . – . The window dates from the restoration made by Charles the Great between  and , see Dell’Acqua :  – . On grisaille in general in the eighth century, see Dell’Acqua .  Torp :  attests the discovery of remains from a wooden margin that held a stucco transenna, which also left material traces. L’Orange :  –  argued for the presence, inside the transenna, of symbols that allowed for the creation of luminous Christian motifs and whose light was perhaps tinted through the use of coloured glass. De Francovich :  believes that the window is a later, Carolingian insertion that initially held the image of the Virgin but similarities between the stucco of the window and the one in the church of San Salvatore in Brescia indicate the original character of the window in Cividale.

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Fig. 50. Sixth- or seventh-century “Istrian limestone” transenna. From Wulff 1909: 65.

Other cases in which figures relate similarly with windows further elucidate the implications of the scene in the Tempietto. In the so-called Mausoleum of Galla Placidia in Ravenna and in the Baptistery of San Giovanni in Naples,

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both of the fifth century, one of the four pairs of standing male figures depicted seems to address the window it flanks in the same reverential manner. Intended

Fig. 51. Detail of the mosaic decoration of the eastern wall of the Mausoleum of Galla Placidia in Ravenna (ca. 450).

to host a nocturnal ritual, and having in the same scene depicted windows, the composition in Naples testifies that the two figures were not addressing the window per se or, at least, that the window was not to be perceived as a window. Rather, as in the mausoleum, the figures turned towards that which was above the window, in the case of the Baptistery probably the scene showing the baptism of Jesus, now lost. In the mausoleum, the designer used the windows to stress the luminous character of iconographic details depicted next to them. In the scene where two figures identifiable as Peter and Paul turn towards the window in reverence, they clearly address the Divine Light depicted above the opening. The latter is not itself the Light, but a technical artifice meant to stress the luminosity of the depicted light. Dated to the early fourth century, the cubiculum of the Little Apostles found in the catacomb of Domitilla in Rome shows the earliest scene of the kind. Under the arch on which the Last Supper appears, Peter and Paul flank a depicted window on which a feminine figure in the orant position appeared. The apostles look both towards her and above, to Christ, with the purpose of stressing the main figure’s afterlife in the company of Christ. The

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scene offers a strong argument in favour of my thesis that in Late Antiquity the window and its light, real or depicted, stressed the symbolism of motifs depicted on or next to them, but could not represent on their own the Divine Presence. In the Chapel of St. Zeno in Rome, half a century after the Tempietto was decorated, Pope Paschal I (817– 24) had the Virgin and St. John the Baptist create a Deesis by flanking a window. On two of the other walls, saints address in the same manner windows that were subsequently walled. Decorated at the moment of their closing with mosaic imitating round panes of coloured glass, these other apertures indicate that it was the window and its coloured light that were held worthy of reverence. Nevertheless, the window of the Deesis is larger than the rest, with its dimension recommending the use of a transenna. Likely holding a Christic symbol, the latter was put into value by natural light at day, and probably by a lamp during the night.

IV.4 Manipulating Theophany on the Eve of the Carolingian Renaissance On the eve of the Carolingian Renaissance which, under the impact of Iconoclasm and perhaps due to Charles the Great’s gusto for paleochristian architecture, attempted a return to the Constantinian manner of using light in Christian architecture, we find in Cividale yet another expression of the ritual mise-enscène whose development we have been following. While Charles used light for pragmatic reasons, for example, to enhance the visibility of essentially educative spaces,⁷²¹ in the Tempietto light is used in a subtle manner to generate a complex symbolic dimension within the space in conjunction with the architecture, decoration, and probably ritual. Through number, position, dimension, interaction with the textures and hues of the decoration next to them, and with the iconography, the windows in the Tempietto helped create a visual discourse that legitimised the structure of heaven, along with its manifestations on earth. Just like the Orthodox Baptistery and San Vitale, the oratory appeared “at the very edge between the phenomenal world and the realm of the intelligible”,⁷²² with its attempt to reproduce heaven investing the participants in the ritual with an iconic dimension.

 Libri carolini ., ., ..  Schibille : .

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Index of Persons Adam 25, 33 – 37, 41, 43, 47, 50, 53, 92, 99, 103, 194 Adamnan of Iona 94 f. Agathias Scholasticus 181 Agnellus of Ravenna 50, 57, 64, 93 f., 110 f., 117, 119, 129, 136, 171, 173, 191, 206 f. Aistulf, dux 217 Alaric 200 Alexander of Abonoteichus 121 f. Ambrogio Traversari 168 Ambrose of Milan 16, 22, 24, 40 – 42, 45, 48 – 50, 58, 90, 99, 116, 133, 149 Ambrosiaster 188 Anthemius of Tralles 131 Aphrahat the Persian Sage 26 Apuleius, Lucius Apuleius Madaurensis 27 f., 30, 42, 68, 72, 86, 98, 104 f., 194, 213 Arechis II, dux 223 Aristotle 154 Augustine of Hippo 36 Avitus, Emperor 133 Avitus of Vienne 184 f. Basil of Caesarea 47, 69, 88, 122 f., 153 Boethius 110, 133 Bordeaux, pilgrim 117, 142 Calixtus, bishop of Cividale 218 Cassiodorus 110, 133 Cesarius of Arles 96, 174, 189 Charles the Great, Emperor 223, 225, 228 Choricius of Gaza 139 Chromatius of Aquileia 40 f., 47, 78 f., 90, 200 Clement of Alexandria 24, 26 f., 32 – 34, 38, 51, 86 – 90, 93, 101 Constantine I, Emperor 14, 35 f., 40, 67, 71, 81 f., 85, 130, 173 Constantine IV, Emperor 208 Constantius, Emperor 150 Constantius II, Emperor 185 Corippus 109, 121, 188 Cyprian of Carthage 39

Cyril of Alexandria 38, 48, 51, 53, 55 f., 114, 180 Cyril of Jerusalem 16, 22, 36, 38 – 42, 46, 48, 57, 66, 99, 103, 108, 114, 116, 118, 122 Damascius 33 Desiderius, King 217, 223 Dio Chrysostom 43, 89 Dionysius, Pseudo (the Areopagite) 1, 20, 46, 88 f., 93, 126 – 129, 135, 145, 153, 155, 179, 190 – 194, 196, 198, 210 f., 214 Ecclesius, bishop of Ravenna 134, 156, 163, 170, 185, 191, 206 Egeria 38, 118 Elia, bishop of Grado 200 Ennodius of Pavia 129, 133, 212 Ephrem the Syrian 36, 45 – 47 Epiphanius of Panarion 22 Eusebius of Caesarea 24, 35, 38, 147, 149, 188 Evagrius Ponticus 34 Firmicus Maternus

72, 102, 106

Galerius, Emperor 67 Galla Placidia 64, 134, 143, 206 Germanus of Constantinople 193 – 195, 198, 216 Germanus of Paris, Pseudo 174, 194 f. Giovanni Ciampini 66, 80 f., 94, 185, 200, 226 Girolamo Fabri 166 Gregory of Nazianzus 24, 34, 36, 40 f., 43 f., 46 f., 98, 101 f., 216 Gregory of Nyssa 16, 34, 40, 43, 46 f. Gregory of Tours 96, 107, 129 f., 147, 152 – 154, 171, 173 f., 182, 194, 197, 211, 219 Hero of Alexandria 32 Hibernicus Exul 225 Hippolytus of Rome 32, 105 Hippolytus of Rome, Pseudo 100 f.

258

Index of Persons

Honorius, Emperor 57, 200 Hypatius, of Ephesus 121, 131 Iamblichus 30 – 33, 72, 86, 103 f., 127 f. Ignatius of Antioch 39 Irenaeus of Lyon 25, 52 f. Isidore of Seville 149, 152, 159 f., 168, 173 f. Isidorus of Miletus 131 Jerome, Eusebius Sophronius Hieronymus 28 John Chrysostom 15, 20, 24 f., 36, 40, 42, 46 f., 76, 90, 93, 98 f., 103, 108, 122 John Chrysostom, Pseudo 193 John Damascene 188 John I, Pope 134 John Moschus 25 Juliana Anicia 129 f., 134 Julianus Argentarius 136, 171, 206 Justin I, Emperor 110, 134 Justin II, Emperor 121, 171, 188, 193 Justin Martyr 22, 25 Justinian I, Emperor 8f., 12, 19, 67, 98, 130 f., 133f., 140, 145, 149f., 164, 168, 170, 173 f., 182, 185, 188, 191, 199, 211, 213f. Leo of Rome, Pope 51, 55, 71, 95, 100 Leontius of Constantinople 101 Liutprand, King 217 f. Lorenzo I, bishop of Milan 21 f. Lucian, of Samosata 87, 121 f. Lupo, dux 218 Macrobius, Macrobius Ambrosius Theodosius 66, 126 Mark the Deacon 134 Martin of Tours 80, 194 f., 197, 225 Maximian, bishop of Ravenna 134, 170 f., 185, 191, 205 – 208 Maximus of Turin 78 f., 120, 180, 223 Maximus the Confessor 180, 223 Melania the Younger 16 Methodius of Olympus 24 f., 34, 37 f., 41, 88 – 90, 99 – 101

Narsai 155 Neon of Ravenna, bishop 41, 50, 57 f., 81, 94, 96, 106 f., 111, 114, 118 Nero, Emperor 71 Niceta, bishop of Aquileia 200 Nilus of Sinai 16, 180 Origen

24, 28, 30, 34, 38, 41, 51

Pappus of Alexandria 133 Parthenius, magister officiorum et patricius in Gaul 133 Paschal I, Pope 150, 174, 228 Paul, the Apostle 23, 26, 34 f., 38, 40, 48, 52, 55, 68, 104 – 106, 119, 154, 200, 227 Paul of Apamea 200 Paul the Deacon 217 Paul the Silentiary 98, 148, 154, 161, 164, 168 f., 174, 179, 211 Paulinus, Pseudo 106 Paulinus of Nola 14 – 16, 18, 37, 45 f., 89, 105 – 107, 129 f., 136, 142 f., 150, 159, 179 f., 190 Pelagius I, Pope 201 Peter, the Apostle 33, 117 f., 209, 227 Peter Chrysologus, bishop of Ravenna 23, 48, 50 – 57, 78 f., 87, 91, 100, 104, 107, 110, 118 f., 188, 194, 210 Peter II, bishop of Ravenna 57, 110 f., 118 Peter of Alexandria 192 Philo of Alexandria 87, 104 Philostratus the Elder 160 Photios of Constantinople 139, 198 f. Pietro Santi Bartoli 82 f. Plato 4 f., 30, 32 Pliny, the Elder 121, 159 f., 164 – 166 Plotinus 1, 30, 104, 145 Plutarch 104 Porphyry of Gaza 66, 134 Porphyry of Tyre 29 f. Proclus 1, 32, 51 f., 66, 72 Proclus of Constantinople 43, 51 f., 100 Procopius of Caesarea 139, 145, 161, 182, 211

Index of Persons

Prudentius 28, 105, 142, 154, 179 Ptolemy of Alexandria 32 Quintilian

148

Rabanus Maurus 218 Ratchis, dux 218 Reparatus, bishop of Ravenna Rufinus of Aquileia 119

208

Serapion of Thmuis 46 Seroux d’Agincourt 81 Severus of Antioch 174 Severus of Naples 81 Sidonius Apollinaris 129, 133, 139, 149, 158 Sigebert I, King 189 Simplicius, Pope 95 Sixtus III, Pope 57 Socrates Scholasticus 46 Sophronius, Pseudo 193 Soter of Naples 81 Stobaeus 86 Strabo 42, 149 Sulpicius Severus 197 Symmachus, Quintus Aurelius 76 f.

259

Tatian 22, 34 Tertullian 25 Themistius 188 Theodora, Empress 182, 185 Theodore of Mopsuestia 42 f., 45 Theodoret of Cyrrhus 181 Theodoric, King 64, 96, 109 f., 133 Theodorus of Aquileia 199 f. Theophilus of Antioch 42 Ursicinus of Ravenna 206 Ursus of Ravenna 57 Venantius Fortunatus 91, 96 f., 118, 129, 133, 137, 140 – 142, 151 – 154, 158, 169, 173 f., 178 – 180, 188 f., 194 f., 197, 202 f., 211 f. Victor of Ravenna 171 Walafried Strabo

149

Zeno, Emperor 144 Zeno of Verona 40, 42 f., 78 f., 91, 103

Index of Places Adriatic (sea, basin) 9 f., 115, 134 f., 137, 147, 161, 164, 199, 201, 217 Africa 48, 175 Alexandria 26 f., 34 Amiternum 40 Anastasis, tomb, Jerusalem 38 – 40, 115, 122 Aquileia 16, 199 f., 218 Arian baptistery, Ravenna 45, 91, 96, 110, 133 Ascension rotunda, Jerusalem 94 Ayios Philon, baptistery 102 Brioude baptistery

94, 147

Cappella arcivescovile, Ravenna 8, 109 f, 121 Chrysotriklinos, chapel, Constantinople 188, 190, 196, 223 Cividale del Friuli (Forum Iulii) 9, 217 – 223, 225, 228 Classe 110, 156, 201, 207, 210 f., 217 Conimbriga 89 Constantinople 9, 51, 57, 130 – 134, 136 f., 139, 171, 182, 223 Dalmatia 115 Domitilla catacomb, Rome 81 f., 227 Dura Europos, baptistery 25, 33, 40 East (Byzantium) 9, 89, 133 f., 141, 143, 147, 153, 161, 198 f., 206 f, 218 Egypt 27, 32, 98 Eleusis 19, 32, 89 Eufrasiana, church, Poreč 9, 126, 134, 150, 164, 166, 186 f., 191, 196, 201, 203, 205 f. Frampton, Villa

115

Gaul 48, 117, 140 f. Grado 95, 200, 218

Hagia Sophia in Constantinople 8 f., 12 f., 98, 131 f., 134 – 136, 145, 147, 149 f., 154 f., 159 – 161, 164, 168 f., 173 f., 179, 188, 190 f., 193, 198, 211 Hagios Demetrios, church, Thessaloniki 164 Huarte 30, 92 Icklingham 116 Igel 89 Italy 48, 144, 147, 175, 207, 217, 219 Jarrow 225 Jerusalem 38, 46, 95, 115, 177, 190 Jordan, river 37, 41, 51, 63, 68 f., 99 Kelibia baptistery 102 Konjica mithraeum 29 Lateran 14, 57 f., 81, 94, 102, 115, 169, 171, 210 Limoges baptistery 94 Mausoleum of Clodius Hermes 81 Mausoleum of Costanza 82 f. Mausoleum of Diocletian 89, 150, 182 Mausoleum of Galla Placidia 64, 134, 143, 206, 210, 226 f. Milan 48 – 50, 57 f., 200, 220 Modena 73 Monza 71, 210 Naples 14, 22, 45, 66 f., 70, 78, 80 – 83, 94, 99, 106, 108, 120 f., 226 f. Nola 14 – 18, 89, 105, 107, 129 f., 150, 159, 179 f., 190 Ostia

29 f.

Paris 225 Pola 134, 187, 206 Poreč 9, 126, 131, 134, 161, 164, 166, 168 f., 183, 186 f., 191, 201, 204 – 206, 208, 211 Priscilla catacomb 81

Index of Places

Red Monastery, church, Sohag 114, 130 f., 137, 150, 154 f., 160 f., 164, 205, 220 f., 224 Rome 57, 71, 73, 78, 81 – 83, 94 f., 109, 115, 129, 133 f., 136 f., 149 – 151, 154, 159, 179, 185, 187, 191, 200 f., 219, 227 f. Rotunda of Galerius, Thessaloniki 38, 40, 67, 81, 94 f. Salerno 223 San Giovanni in Fonte, baptistery, Naples 66, 80, 85, 90, 94, 226 San Lorenzo f.l.m., church, Rome 137 San Michele in Africisco, church, Ravenna 130 Santa Croce, chapel, Rome 64, 109, 206 Sant’Agnese, church, Rome 85, 154 Santa Maria de Lara, church, Quintillana de las Viñas 219 Santa Maria del Canetto (formosa), Pola 206 Santa Maria Maggiore, church, Rome 143 Sant’Apollinare in Classe, church 9, 93 f., 130 f., 185, 191, 199, 201 f., 206 – 209 Sant’Apollinare Nuovo, church, Ravenna 96, 189 Santa Sabina, church, Rome 73, 78, 200, 210 Sant’Eufemia, church, Grado 201 San Vittore in Ciel d’Oro, chapel, Milan 220

261

Sepphoris, synagogue 74 f. Sidi Jedidi baptistery 102 Ss. Cosmas and Damian, church, Rome 137, 159 Ss. Pietro e Marcellino catacomb 81 Ss. Salvatore e Giulia, church, Brescia 217 St. Catherine in Sinai, church 7, 9, 57, 130 f., 150 f., 154 f., 164, 172, 179, 183 f., 202, 211 St. John, church, Cividale 218, 224 St. Polyeuktos, church, Constantinople 130, 134, 182 St. Zeno, chapel, Rome 79, 91, 144, 219, 228 Syria 30, 45 – 47, 58, 92, 141 Tempietto longobardo (Santa Maria in Valle), chapel, Cividale del Friuli 9, 217 – 223, 225 f., 228 Trier 73 Tyre 147 Virgin of the Pharos, church, Constantinople 198 Volturno 225 West

9, 48, 129 f., 133 f., 140, 142, 153, 174 f., 190, 194, 199 – 204, 206 f., 212, 218