Mary, the Apostles, and the Last Judgment: Apocryphal Representations from Late Antiquity to the Middle Ages 9786158135382, 6158135380

Table of contents :
Table of Contents
Responsible Midwifery or Reckless Disbelief?
Introduction to Mary as High Priest
Visual Cherubikon:
Apocryphal Iconography in the Byzantine Churches of Cappadocia: Meaning and Visibility in Scenes of the Story of
The Impact of Apocryphal Sources on the
Pseudepigrapha and Last Judgment Iconography:
Apocryphal Sources
postolorum Gloriosissimus Princeps.

Citation preview

Table of Contents Notes on Contributors Introduction

I V

MARY IN THE APOCRYPHA

Responsible Midwifery or Reckless Disbelief? Revisiting Salome’s Examination of Mary in The Protevangelium Jacobi Mark M. Mattison Introduction to Mary as High Priest in Early Christian Narratives and Iconography

3

23

Ally Kateusz

Visual Cherubikon: Mary as Priest at Lagoudera in Cyprus Matthew J. Milliner Apocryphal Iconography in the Byzantine Churches of Cappadocia: Meaning and Visibility in Scenes of the Story of Mary and the Infancy of Christ Manuela Studer-Karlen The Impact of Apocryphal Sources on the Annunciation in Medieval Art Marilyn Gasparini

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83

117

THE APOSTLES AND THE LAST JUDGMENT

Pseudepigrapha and Last Judgment Iconography: Examples from the Church of the Ascension in Luzhany 149 Daria Coșcodan

Apocryphal Sources and Their Importance in the Italian Iconography of Saint James the Greater Andrea D’Apruzzo

161

Apostolorum Gloriosissimus Princeps. Saint Peter Healing the Sick with His Shadow in Late Medieval Painting between the Acts and the Golden Legend 187 Gerd Mathias Micheluzzi

Notes on Contributors Mark M. Mattison is a writer, author, and independent scholar of early Christianity and Christian origins, with particular interests in the historical Jesus, Paul, extracanonical Gospels, feminist-liberationist theology, and Christian mysticism. He was the original founder of The Paul Page, a web site dedicated to trends in Pauline theology including the new perspective on Paul, Paul and Empire, and Paul within Judaism. His current web site, gospels.net, offers public domain English translations of extracanonical Gospels, as well as photographs and links to photographs of the manuscripts on which the translations are based. Ally Kateusz, PhD, is a cultural historian specializing in the intersection of women and religion in Early Christian art and texts. She is Research Associate at the Wijngaards Institute for Catholic Research, and has published articles in the Journal of Early Christian Studies, the Journal of Feminist Studies in Religion, The Priscilla Papers, and other venues. Her most recent book is Maria, Mariamne, and Miriam: Rediscovering the Marys (T & T Clark), co-edited with Mary Ann Beavis. Her 2019 illustrated book is Mary and Early Christian Women: Hidden Leadership (Palgrave Macmillan). Matthew J. Milliner (PhD, Princeton University) is Associate Professor of Art History at Wheaton College. He is at work on a forthcoming volume on the Virgin of the Passion icon entitled Mother of the Lamb. Manuela Studer-Karlen studied Christian and Byzantine art history at the University of Fribourg. For her dissertation, she dealt with the depictions of the deceased on early Christian sarcophagi. Since 2013, Manuela Studer-Karlen has a permanent position as lecturer and researcher in Late Antique and Byzantine Art, at the University of Fribourg. The habilitation project on Christ Anapeson was successfully completed in 2017 at the University in Mainz (Germany). Manuela

Notes on Contributors

Studer-Karlen has benefited from numerous scholarships and fellowships (Dumbarton Oaks, International Short Visit of the Swiss National Foundation, Onassis Foundation, etc.) and from international research stays in Washington, Paris, Oxford, Thessaloniki etc. She is the winner of the Franz Josef II Liechtenstein Prize 2017 (University of Fribourg) for her work on Christ Anapeson. Currently, Manuela Studer-Karlen’s research centres on studies of medieval Georgia and the Gothic ivory works. Marilyn Gasparini returned to the academic side of art as a career change after many years working in the art market as buyer, exporter, gallery owner, writer, fine art appraiser, and curator of local and international exhibitions. She did her postgraduate work in Medieval Art History at the Courtauld Institute of Art in London. She has recently given papers focusing on medieval Marian iconography at the International Congress on Medieval Studies, Kalamazoo, MI, and the International Medieval Congress, Leeds, UK and is currently working on a paper relating to the Siena Cathedral’s Annunciation by Simone Martini. Other projects include a book in progress exploring iconography of the Virgin Mary including what it reveals about medieval culture. Daria Coșcodan is a doctoral student in Byzantine Studies at Ludwig Maximilian University of Munich. She has an M.A. in Religious Studies from Humboldt University of Berlin and a B.A. in Art History. Before starting her PhD project, she spent one year as a Visiting Research Fellow at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. Her research examines the influence of apocrypha and pseudepigrapha related to the Old Testament on art. Andrea D’Apruzzo is attending the School of Specialization in Art History at the Università Cattolica del Sacro Cuore of Milan. His research focuses on medieval Christian hagiography and iconography, with a particular attention to pilgrimage routes. He has published the followings on this subject: The influence of pilgrimage on local culture and imagination: the Italian Compostela as a case study ("Almatourism," Vol. 8, No. 16, 2017, pp. 59-79), Rotte peregrinarie ed epica carolingia: un continuo interscambio tra oralità e scrittura (in publication) and Pellegrinaggio iacobeo e II

Notes on Contributors

committenza Francescana: il caso di Pistoia (“V Ciclo di Studi Medievali,” Firenze, 2019, pp. 227-233). Gerd Micheluzzi studied art history at the universities of Graz and Vienna. As a doctoral fellow at the Kunsthistorisches Institut Florenz, funded by the Austrian Federal Ministry of Science and Research (OeAD), he is currently finalizing his PhD project on Function and Genesis of Cast Shadows in Medieval and Early Modern Painting. His general research interests revolve around fourteenth- and fifteenth-century art, focusing especially on the intersection with art theory, natural philosophy and literature. Besides various presentations, he participated in a PhD-exchange with the Courtauld Institute of Art in London, authored a paper on Taddeo Gaddi’s Cappella Baroncelli, and recently co-organized an interdisciplinary international conference on medieval studies in Vienna.

III

Introduction This volume is devoted to the topic of apocryphal sources and their role in the construction of the visual representation and iconography of Virgin Mary, the Apostles, as well as the Last Judgment in a timespan starting from the Late Antiquity to the Late Middle Ages, both in the East and West. Its aim is to bring into attention some neglected topics and aspects related to apocryphal sources. Research in this field concentrates mainly on the textual tradition and transmission of apocryphal texts, yet aspects concerning the construction and function of women and gender, as well as the integration and adaptation of apocrypha in the construction of medieval iconographies still need to be addressed. The “apocrypha/on” are understood as movable texts whose composition does not end in the fourth and fifth centuries in the context of the establishment and closing of the canon. This permits to address issues concerning the evolution, transmission, adoption, and adaptation of sources. The apocrypha were important sources for iconography when other information on holy lives lacked or when such information acquired an important function. Originating in the apocrypha, such information has often become part of visual representation tradition. Firstly, the studies in this volume investigate issues related to the Virgin Mary, and through them, also the status, function, and identity of women. Mary and the female element thus represent significant models and/or background figures in fields pertaining, but not limited to: theology, religious studies, textual studies, manuscript studies, art history in a trans-disciplinary perspective. Secondly, these studies focus on the apostles and the Last Judgment, their visual representations and the use of apocryphal sources. Therefore, the volume is divided in two parts according to these two major topics: Part I dealing with Mary in the Apocrypha, and Part II focusing on the Apostles and the Last Judgment. Mark M. Mattison deals with the textual tradition of the story found in an apocryphal source which originated in the second century (possibly even earlier in part), the Protevangelium Jacobi, with the oldest

Introduction

manuscript dating back to the late third or early fourth century, the Greek Papyrus Bodmer V. The apocryphal Protevangelium is the source discussed and used by several authors in this volume, pointing to its important position –with the necessary critical engagement – in the representation of Virgin Mary, especially, and in Mariology, also supplying information about the family and infancy of Jesus. Mattison analyses the account of examination, undertook by a certain Salome, in order to confirm the virginity of Mary after giving birth to Jesus. Salome is interpreted in various subsequent sources in different ways: as a midwife who helped Mary with the birth or as a manifestation of disbelief, the “doubting Thomas” of the narrative. Mattison takes the debate back to its original context and the problem of text transmission and instability of textual tradition and argues that she could have originally been depicted as a well-meaning midwife performing a postpartum examination, and an early editor could have subsequently subverted the message, in view of apologetics against charges of Jesus illegitimacy and Mariological debates. The Protevangelium of James is also one of the sources used by Ally Kateusz, who combines the analysis of written sources with the visual representation of Mary as a (high) priest. This motif was popular both in early Christian narratives and iconography, from Late Antiquity to the early modern era among some authors, both East and West, as discussed by several researchers recently. Kateusz contextualizes the reasons why Mary was depicted in this fashion with insignia such as the Eucharistic handkerchief and the episcopal pallium, looking for its sources in canonical gospels and apocryphal extracanonical literature (besides the Protevangelium of James, also the Gospel of Bartholomew and the Six Dormition Narrative). She shows that the iconography of Mary as a liturgical leader and Eucharist officiant was relatively common in the Mediterranean by the sixth century up to the High Middle Ages and also discusses the possible “censorship,” both ancient and modern, to explain why Mary is rarely remembered this way today. Matthew J. Milliner addresses a similar theme from a slightly different point of view. His chapter analyses the extraordinarily rich visual representation of Mary as a priest in the hurch at Lagoudera in Cyprus, dating back to the twelfth century. The priestly motifs are not limited to the image in the apse, but they cover the naves with the cycle VI

Introduction

of Presentation in the temple, Annunciation and Dormition. Milliner discusses connections with the apocryphal sources as Protevangelium and Dormition narratives and argues that the prominence of the priestly aspects of Mary’s life in the church in Lagoudera and in Byzantine art can also be interpreted as a visualized form of the Cherubikon, the hymn said by priests at the outset of the Eucharistic part of the liturgy. Manuela Studer-Karlen also deals with the apocryphal roots of the iconography of Virgin Mary and the infancy of Jesus, this time as a precious case study of the Byzantine churches in Cappadocia, unparalleled for its wealth of surviving painted monuments in the Byzantine world, from the ninth to the eleventh centuries. Again, the meaning of the scenes of Mary’s life with apocryphal elements found in the Protevangelium of James, accepted and mediated through the Byzantine liturgical and theological traditions, which found its stable place in the decoration of the naves, is discussed. Marilyn Gasparini’s chapter stays with the theme of the representation of Mary in visual material and its apocryphal sources. Gasparini offers an overview of the depiction of the Annunciation in medieval art, including basic motifs such as the pose of Mary during the annunciation, her holding a book, the coming of the Holy Spirit and the conception through Mary’s ear; which are based on canonical sources and amplified by apocryphal and non-canonical writings throughout the medieval period. Apocryphal sources were similarly important for the visual representation and medieval iconography of other themes than Mary, such as those related to the lives and deeds of the apostles and the Last Judgment. Daria Coșcodan offers a case study of the iconography of the Last Judgment cycle in the late medieval church in Luzhany in northern Bukovina, today’s Ukraine, an example of Moldavian monumental art, which draws on Byzantine traditions. She analyses especially the scenes depicting the death of the righteous and the death of the sinner and their moralizing dimension, pointing to their literary sources, such as Old Testament pseudepigrapha, mediated through Byzantine literature and hagiography and popular in the later period via Slavonic and Romanian translations. Coșcodan’s case study contributes to the evidence of how the legacy of apocryphal literature rooted in late antique and medieval eschatological thought and iconography was VII

Introduction

appropriated in the territory north of the Danube in the late Middle Ages. The last two studies of the volume focus on the representation of the apostles. Andrea d’Apruzzo’s chapter focuses on the iconography of Saint James the Greater and offers an overview of primarily medieval Italian examples located on the famous pilgrim route to Compostella. He points to the apocryphal motifs mediated this time via medieval hagiographic legends (from the Codex calixtinus with its miracle accounts to the Golden Legend), which contributed to the polymorphic and polyfunctional character of Saint James’ cult. Gerd Mathias Micheluzzi, finally, brings a fresh study of the functions of the scenes of Saint Peter Healing the Sick with his Shadow in late medieval painting, especially in San Piero a Grado and in the Upper Church of Assisi from the turn of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. Once again, Micheluzzi demonstrates, the visual representation was dependent on early Christian apocryphal sources (Pseudo-Clementine writings), mediated above all via widespread medieval collections such as the Golden Legend. The present volume is the result of the debates started in two conference sessions devoted to the problem of apocrypha and visual representation. One of them focused on “Visualizing Women in the Apocrypha” and took place at the International Congress on Medieval Studies at the Western Michigan University in Kalamazoo (May 9-12, 2019), while the second session, titled “Apocryphal Iconography: Integration, Adaptation, and Church Tradition” took place at the International Medieval Congress in Leeds, UK (July 1-4, 2019). Most authors in these studies, but also this entire volume, aims to bridge what often remains disconnected: the visual art and the written text, the early Christian roots and medieval reception, the East and the West, as well as methodologies of various disciplines. We believe that the studies in the volume present a timely contribution to the growing body of scholarship on the apocryphal writings and their reception in the Middle Ages, especially in connection to visual representation.

Stanislava Kuzmová and Andrea-Bianka Znorovszky

VIII

Part I MARY IN THE APOCRYPHA

Responsible Midwifery or Reckless Disbelief? Revisiting Salome’s Examination of Mary in The Protevangelium Jacobi Mark M. Mattison Independent scholar (https://www.gospels.net), USA

Introduction The Protevangelium Jacobi (hereafter, Prot. Jas.)1 stands at a critical juncture in the evolution of Mariology. Originally written in Greek in the second century CE,2 likely in Syria,3 Prot. Jas. has too often been interpreted primarily as simply harmonizing the infancy narratives of Matthew and Luke in a pedestrian way to flesh out a plausible back-story of Jesus’ family (thereby “filling in the blanks,” as it were) for a curious Christian

The very title of the text may be considered controversial, as in fact the work bears a number of different titles among the different manuscripts, and selecting a specific title may prejudice one’s perspective of its contents. Even the word “proto-gospel” could be taken to emphasize Jesus rather than Mary, a more central character in this text. The version in Papyrus Bodmer V is titled “Birth of Mary, Revelation of James.” Cf. Ronald F. Hock, The Infancy Gospels of James and Thomas (Santa Rosa, CA: Polebridge Press, 1995), 4. However, for ease of reference, this paper will simply use the more familiar designation, Prot. Jas. 2 Cf., among others, Wilhelm Schneemelcher, ed., trans. R. McL. Wilson, New Testament Apocrypha, Vol. 1: Gospels and Related Writings (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1991), 423. For the essential unity of Prot. Jas., cf. Hock, Infancy, 13-20. 3 C.f. H.R. Smid, Protevangelium Jacobi: A Commentary, trans. by G.E. van BaarenPape (Assen: Van Gorcum, 1965), 22: “On the whole we may say that P.J. was possibly written in Syria but that the evidence is not conclusive.” Cf. also Jane Schaberg, “The Infancy of Mary of Nazareth,” in Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, ed., Searching the Scriptures, Volume Two: A Feminist Commentary (New York, NY: Crossroad, 1994), 718. 1

Responsible Midwifery or Reckless Disbelief?

audience.4 However, many have recognized in this text specific apologetic concerns about Christology and Mariology, particularly regarding charges of Jesus’ illegitimacy. Feminist scholarship has highlighted the grievous consequences of such apologetics. In her essay in Searching the Scriptures: A Feminist Commentary, Jane Schaberg writes: It is necessary here to distinguish between the author’s intentions and the work’s effect. The main intention, I think, was to counter polemic; the long-range effect was to foster male regulation of female virgins. … In a post-polemics period, when the belief in the virginal conception has won the day, the constricted life of Mary is urged as the model for female ascetics.5 Yet others have interpreted Prot. Jas. primarily in the context of the developing Church, building on its Jewish roots while recontextualizing the story of Israel for an increasingly non-Jewish movement. This approach is articulated by Bettina Eltrop and Claudia Janssen in their commentary in Feminist Biblical Interpretation: A Compendium of Critical Commentary on the Books of the Bible and Related Literature. They write: “We will interpret the document in the context of its own time and place, that is, in the framework of disputes in early Christianity about its being part of Judaism.” But they go on to add that “we also want to take a critical look at the picture of Mary that is given here, with its emphasis on her virginity.”6 After initially highlighting the rich biblical imagery of this text, Eltrop and Janssen turn their attention to the detrimental impact of the Mariological development in Prot. Jas.: The picture of Mary given in the Protevangelium of James became the foundation for many later mariological sketches that take as their starting point Mary’s perpetual virginity and Cf. Christopher A. Frilingos, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph: Family Trouble in the Infancy Gospels (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2017), 3: “In the past, scholars often dismissed these gospels as tabloid accounts meant to satisfy a craving for tidbits about the celebrities of the faith.” 5 Schaberg, “Infancy,” 724, 725. 6 Bettina Eltrop and Claudia Janssen, “Protevangelium of James: God’s Story Goes On,” in Luise Schottroff and Marie-Theres Wacker, eds., Feminist Biblical Interpretation: A Compendium of Critical Commentary on the Books of the Bible and Related Literature (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2012), 990. 4

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undefiled status (even though the picture of her in the Protevangelium of James does not speak of this). … the Protevangelium of James has a decisive role in the development of a tradition that exalts Mary over all other women and their sexuality.7 Of the many arguments for Mary’s virginity in Prot. Jas., “the most memorable”8 depicts a character named Salome, the “doubting Thomas” of this story, violating Mary in order to confirm Mary’s postpartum virginity. However, this narrative also occurs in a portion of the text (what we have come to know as chapters 18 through 21) which is attested very differently among the available manuscripts. Interestingly, the most divergent manuscript is the earliest, the Papyrus Bodmer V, which dates to the late third or early fourth century. The Bodmer Papyrus is significantly shorter than most, as illustrated in Table 1. Table 1. The Protevangelium Jacobi Chapters 18 – 209 Papyrus Bodmer V

Other Manuscripts

Chapter 18 (1) And he found a cave there, brought her (to it), and stationed his sons with her and went to look for a Hebrew midwife in the region of Bethlehem.

Chapter 18 (1) And he found a cave there, brought her (to it), and stationed his sons with her and went to look for a Hebrew midwife in the region of Bethlehem. (2) Now I, Joseph, was wandering but not wandering. And I looked up to the dome of heaven and saw it standing still, and into the sky, and I was astonished to see that even the birds of heaven were still. And I looked at the ground and saw a bowl lying there, and workers reclining, and their hands were

Ibid., 995. Schaberg, “Infancy,” 716. 9 My translation of the Papyrus Bodmer V is based on Thomas A. Wayment, The Text of the New Testament Apocrypha (100 – 400 CE) (New York, NY: Bloomsbury T&T Clark, 2013). My translation of other manuscripts is based on Émile de Strycker, La Forme la plus ancienne du Protévangile de Jacques (Brussels: Société des Bollandistes, 1961). For a description of the manuscripts, cf. de Strycker, Protévangile, 30ff. 7 8

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Papyrus Bodmer V

Other Manuscripts in the bowl, and they were chewing but not chewing, and they were picking up food but not picking up food, and they were bringing it to their mouths but not bringing it to their mouths. Rather, all their faces were looking up. And I saw sheep being driven, but the sheep stood still. And the shepherd lifted his hand to strike them, but his hand was raised. And I looked into the torrent of the river and saw young goats, and their mouths were in the water but not drinking. And suddenly, everything resumed its course.

Chapter 19 (1) And he found (and) brought (her) coming down from the mountain.

Chapter 19 (1) And look! A woman was coming down from the mountain, and she said to me, “Man, where are you going?” And I said, “I’m seeking a Hebrew midwife.” And in reply she said to me, “Are you from Israel?” And I said to her, “Yes.” Then she said, “And who’s the one giving birth in the cave?” And I said, “My betrothed.” And she said to me, “She’s not your wife?” And I said to her, “Mary was nurtured in the Temple of the Lord, and it was decided by lot that she would be my wife, yet she’s not my wife; but she’s conceived from the Holy Spirit.” And the midwife said, “Really?” And Joseph said to her, “Come and see.”10

And Joseph said to the midwife, “Mary is my betrothed, but she’s conceived from the Holy Spirit, nurtured in the Temple of the Lord.”

Textual variants include: deuro kai ide, elthe kai ide, and erchou kai ide. Cp. Matt. 28:6; John 1:39, 46; 4:29; 11:34. 10

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Papyrus Bodmer V And the midwife went with him. (2) And they stood in front of the cave, and a dark cloud overshadowed the cave. And the midwife said, “My soul is magnified today, because my eyes have seen something wonderful today. Salvation has been born to Israel!” And immediately the cloud withdrew from the cave, and a great light appeared in the cave, so that their eyes couldn’t bear it. And a little later, the light withdrew until an infant appeared. And he came and took the breast of his mother, Mary. And the midwife cried out, “How great today is, that I’ve seen this new miracle!” (3) And the midwife went out from the cave, and Salome met her. And she said to her, “Salome, Salome, I have to describe a new sight to you. A virgin has given birth, which is against her nature (physis)!” And Salome said, “As the Lord my God lives, unless I insert my finger (and) examine (eraunēsō) her condition (physin), I won’t believe that the virgin has given birth.”

Other Manuscripts And the midwife went with him. (2) And they stood in front of the cave, and a bright cloud overshadowed the cave. And the midwife said, “My soul is magnified today, because my eyes have seen something wonderful. Salvation has been born to Israel!” And immediately the cloud withdrew from the cave, and a great light appeared in the cave, so that their eyes couldn’t bear it. And a little later, the light withdrew until an infant appeared. And he came and took the breast of his mother, Mary. And the midwife cried out and said, “How great today is for me, that I’ve seen this new miracle!” (3) And the midwife went out from the cave, and Salome met her. And she said to her, “Salome, Salome, I have to describe a new sight to you. A virgin has given birth, which is against her nature (physis)!” And Salome said, “As the Lord my God lives, unless I examine (ereunēsō) her condition (physin),11 I won’t believe that the virgin has given birth.”

Chapter 20 (1) And she went in and positioned her,

Chapter 20 (1) And the midwife went in and said, “Mary, position yourself, because there’s no small test coming concerning you.” And Salome examined (esēmeiōsato) her.11 And Salome cried out and said, “Woe because of my lawlessness and my unbelief! Because I’ve tested the living

and Salome examined (ēraunēse) her condition (physin). And Salome cried out, “I’ve tested the living

Here I depart from de Strycker’s selection and choose the wording of the following manuscripts: B (twelfth-thirteenth century), I (thirteenth-fourteenth century), L (sixteenth century), and R (sixteen-seventeenth century). The readings de Strycker selects are ean mē balō ton daktylon mou kai eraunēsō tēn physin autēs in 19:3 and ebale salōme ton daktylon autēs eis tēn physin autēs in 20:1, respectively. 11

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Papyrus Bodmer V God, and look! My hand is on fire and falling away from me!” (2) And she prayed to the Lord, and the midwife was healed in that hour.

Other Manuscripts God, and look! My hand is on fire and falling away from me!” (2) And she dropped to her knees before the Lord, saying, “God of my ancestors, remember me, that I’ve descended from Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Don’t make an example of me to the people of Israel, but give me the back to the poor, because you know, Lord, that in your name I’ve healed people, and I’ve received my wages from you.” (3) And look! An angel of the Lord appeared, saying to her, “Salome, Salome, the Lord of All has heard your prayer. Bring your hand to the child and lift him up, and you’ll receive salvation and joy.” And Salome joyfully went to the child and lifted him up, saying, “I worship him, because a great king has been born to Israel.” And immediately Salome was healed, and she left the cave justified. And look! A voice was saying, “Salome, Salome, don’t report the wonderful things you’ve seen until the child comes into Jerusalem.”

(3) And look! An angel of the Lord stood towards Salome, saying, “Your prayer has been heard before the Lord God. Go and touch the child, and you’ll receive salvation.” And she did this,

and Salome was healed. As she worshipped and left the cave, look! A voice of an angel of the Lord said, “Salome, Salome, report the wonderful things you’ve seen until the child comes into Jerusalem.”

Scholars have long debated exactly who the Salome of this narrative is supposed to have been – whether Jesus’ later disciple from Mark’s passion narrative, his half-sister as named by Epiphanius, or someone else entirely (see the Appendix). But the critical question is not so much who Salome is, it is what role Salome plays in the narrative – and how the nature of that role may have evolved through different iterations of the text as it passed through the hands of various scribes during the development of the institution of the Church.

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The question of midwifery in The Protevangelium Jacobi Chapters 19, 20 On the face of it, it may not even be clear whether Salome serves as a midwife in Prot. Jas., especially in the bulk of the available manuscripts. Note that in the translation provided in Table 1, Joseph sets out to find a Hebrew midwife in chapter 18. He finds an unnamed midwife in chapter 19 and even has a lengthy conversation with her (not included in the Bodmer Papyrus). The anonymous midwife subsequently travels with Joseph to the cave and witnesses the miracle of the virgin birth. Only at the end of chapter 19 does Salome meet the midwife and hear the news that “a virgin has given birth, which is against her nature” (19:3). Salome expresses disbelief (using the same words as “doubting Thomas” in John 20:25; cf. below). The midwife warns Mary about Salome, who attempts to ascertain whether she is still a virgin, only to be thwarted by divine means.12 The story is somewhat different in the Bodmer Papyrus, which omits the description of a midwife warning Mary in 20:1. Additionally, in 20:2, when Salome prays to the Lord, it is “the midwife” who is healed. But who is in need of healing in the narrative? The unnamed midwife of chapters 18 and 19 has no stated injury or illness. Salome is the one whose “hand is on fire and falling away from” her. This seems rather strongly to imply that Salome herself is the midwife, leading Morton Smith to conclude that the Bodmer Papyrus “shows reworking of an older form in which she was the midwife.”13 By contrast, Richard Bauckham interprets the same datum as an indication that the scribe If Salome is to be understood as a midwife, it is certainly not depicted in a positive light in our existing manuscripts; Eltrop and Janssen write that “Mary’s ‘undefiled status’ after Jesus’ birth is actually ‘proven’ through a gynecological examination by a midwife named Salome. She establishes that the hymen is intact and that Mary is still a virgin. In this way any lingering doubt about the possibility of sexual intercourse is removed – and actually made subject to divine punishment: the midwife’s hand is consumed by fire, since she does not want to believe that Mary is still a virgin and puts this to the test” (“Protevangelium,” 993, 994). Cf. the adaptation of Pros. Jas. 19, 20 in Pseudo-Matthew 13:4, which explicitly identifies Salome as the second of two midwives. 13 Morton Smith, Clement of Alexandria and a Secret Gospel of Mark (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1973), 191. 12

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explicitly identifies Salome as a midwife.14 He goes on to argue that the longer version also suggests she is a midwife when she describes herself as someone who has “healed” people in 20:2.15 Both Smith16 and Bauckham17 cite the later Gospel of PseudoMatthew, which explicitly lists Salome as the second of two midwives in its version of this pericope.18 They also cite a closely-related Sahidic Coptic fragment of The Life of the Virgin, as well as the Discourse by Demetrius on the Birth of our Lord, which describe Salome as the only midwife.19 Table 2. George Zervos’ reconstruction of “the Original Nativity Story” Genesis Marias (Genesis of Mary) Chapter 18 And he found a cave there and led her in and sat her with his sons, and he went out to seek a Hebrew midwife in the country of Bethlehem. Finding (one), he brought (her), from the mountain region Chapter 19 and stood her at the place (lit. in the place) of the cave. And a dark cloud (was covering) the cave, and immediately the cloud was drawn away from the cave, and a great light appeared in the cave so that eyes could not bear (it). And for a little (time) that light was drawn away until a child appeared. And it came and took a breast from his mother Mary. And the midwife shouted, ‘Today is as a great day, because I saw this new spectacle.’

There appears to be an evolving tradition here, though it may be unclear in which direction the tradition is trending. An obvious question is whether the oldest Greek manuscript, the Bodmer Papyrus, represents a more original version of a text that has been elaborated upon by later Richard Bauckham, Jude and the Relatives of Jesus in the Early Church (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1990), 41, n. 136. 15 Ibid. 16 Smith, Clement, 190. 17 Bauckham, Jude, 41. 18 Cf. note 12. 19 Smith, Clement, 190; Bauckham, Jude, 41, 42. 14

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manuscripts, or whether it represents an abbreviated version that has omitted text preserved in later versions.20 In his essay in A Feminist Companion to Mariology,21 George Zervos proposes an intriguing reconstruction of “the original nativity story” which he argues was incorporated into Prot. Jas. in the Bodmer Papyrus. The reconstruction basically excises all references to Salome and allusions to canonical Gospels and “smooths out” the narrative.22 Zervos’ reconstruction is displayed in Table 2. However, this hypothetical reconstruction still leaves unanswered one glaring question: Why is there a midwife in this narrative at all? There’s no midwifery described in the narrative. The midwife in this passage neither tends to the mother’s health nor helps to deliver the child (as does Anna’s midwife in chapter 5). She provides no medical services, no examination, and apparently contributes nothing to the event.23 In fact, many other nativity stories do not even involve a midwife. There is no midwife in Matthew or Luke, and both the Ascension of Isaiah (11:14) and the Odes of Solomon (19:9) go so far as to explicitly state that there was no midwife.24 Additionally, given the influence of the passion narratives in this portion of the text (cf. the Appendix), the presence of a woman named Salome (attested in all the manuscripts) suggests that it may not be so Although textual critics no longer assume that shorter texts are older, other considerations may be weighed. Ally Kateusz writes, “I would argue that elaboration on the original would be more likely when a new theological point was at stake” (personal correspondence dated January 1, 2019). 21 George Zervos, “Christmas with Salome,” in Amy-Jill Levine and Maria Mayou Robbins, eds., A Feminist Companion to Mariology (New York, NY: T&T Clark, 2005), 77-98. 22 Ibid., 88. 23 The suggestion that the midwife’s purpose is to function as one of the “two or three witnesses” required by Deuteronomy 19:15 (cf. Smid, Protevangelium, 139) is unnecessary, and nowhere suggested by Prot. Jas. 24 Zervos harmonizes these texts with Prot. Jas. by arguing that a midwife was unable to reach Mary before Jesus was born; cf. “Seeking the Source of the Marian Myth: Have We Found the Missing Link?” in F. Stanley Jones, ed., Which Mary? The Marys of Early Christian Tradition (Atlanta: SBL), 2002, 116. But cf. Schaberg, “Infancy,” 716: “Only a witness to the cloud, the light, and the presence of the newborn, the midwife has nothing to do for Mary or the child (cf. Odes of Solomon 19:8-9; Ascension of Isaiah 11:14).” 20

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easy to write her out of the story – which leads back to the question of her specific role in the narrative and her relationship to the Hebrew midwife who first witnessed the miracle. If there is any place in this text to consider whether any actual midwifery is being practiced, it is arguably at ground zero of the most disquieting textual variant: Prot. Jas. 20:1, which (according to the reading selected by de Strycker) states that “Salome inserted her finger into her nature” (ebale salōme ton daktylon autēs eis tēn physin autēs). A similar variant reads that “she inserted her hand into her” (ebale tēn cheira autēs eis autēn). The Bodmer Papyrus states less shockingly simply that “Salome examined her condition / nature” (eraunēse ē salōme tēn physin autēs). A reliable tenth-century manuscript states only that “she observed her” (katenoēsen autēn). Irrespective of the explicitness of the image, nevertheless the specter of Salome violating Mary to test her postpartum virginity invites critical engagement. It is certainly plausible, as some commentators have written, that the word physis in some manuscripts here is a euphemism for the hymen;25 i.e., Salome intends to see whether Mary’s hymen has remained intact, even after childbirth, consequently providing the reader with assurance about the virgin birth of Jesus at the inexcusable expense of violating women. But could other possible images be discerned here? The textual variant selected in Table 1 lends credence to an intriguing alternative, since the word “examined” (sēmeiōsōmai) can have more specific connotations than the more general word eraunēsō. Samuel Zinner writes that “According to LSJ, sēmeioō can in a medical context mean primarily note down, take notice of. However, secondarily it can mean diagnose, and later examine, as in Paul of Aegina Pragmateia 6:96 (7th cent. CE), where a physician uses fingers to examine for fractured ribs.”26 Could this textual variant in later manuscripts preserve traces of an earlier perception of Salome’s action in terms of a medical examination? As noted above, chapter 20 of the shorter version of the Bodmer Papyrus Cf., among others, Eric M. Vanden Eykel, “But Their Faces Were All Looking Up”: Author and Reader in the Protevangelium of James (London: T&T Clark, 2016), 147, n. 45. 26 Samuel Zinner, “The Infancy Gospels of James and Thomas and the Canonical Gospels in Conversation with Josephus: Reconstructing Historical Backgrounds – Assessing Literary Parallels,” forthcoming in the Journal of Higher Criticism Supplement Series 33, n. 68. 25

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does not depict an anonymous midwife warning Mary of Salome’s pending test. Rather, Salome simply enters the cave, positions Mary, and examines her. Is this not exactly what one may have expected a responsible midwife to have done?27 Could later versions of Prot. Jas. have subverted this image of responsible midwifery into a lurid confirmation of Mary’s postpartum virginity? It is a question worth asking. Salome’s burning hand in The Protevangelium Jacobi Chapter 20 There are ostensibly some obstacles to such a reading. The most immediate is the fact that in all the manuscripts, Salome’s hand subsequently catches on fire, which she personally interprets as a result of having “tested the living God” (20:1).28 Interestingly, however, the Bodmer Papyrus does not portray Salome as confessing lawlessness and unbelief. Is there any precedent for interpreting this pericope in a way that at least preserves Salome’s intentions? The tradition that Mary carried fire in her womb is attested by Ephrem the Syrian, who wrote in Hymn 14 on the Nativity that: The Firstborn entered the womb, and the pure Virgin was not harmed … fire entered the womb; put on a body and came forth!29 The sudden advent of fire could also explain the blinding flash of light narrated in Prot. Jas. 19:2: “a great light appeared in the cave, so that their eyes couldn’t bear it.” Additionally, potential allusions to Exodus 19 cannot be ruled out. In Prot. Jas., the midwife comes “down from the mountain” (19:1), as does Cf. Laurence Totelin, “Call the Roman Midwife,” https://www.history extra.com/period/roman/call-the-roman-midwife, accessed November 11, 2018: “Though the story is, of course, a miraculous one, it does demonstrate that ancient midwives were used to dealing with the normal blood, sweat and tears of childbirth.” 28 This image is perhaps most explicit in the Armenian Gospel of the Infancy; cf. J.K. Elliott, A Synopsis of the Apocryphal Nativity and Infancy Narratives: Second Edition, Revised and Expanded (Boston: Brill, 2016), 120, 121. 29 Hymn 14.22, from http://www.newadvent.org/fathers/3703.htm, accessed October 27, 2018. The possibility of reading Prot. Jas. 19, 20 in light of Ephrem was suggested to me by Ally Kateusz on July 27, 2018, at the 2018 gathering of Christian Feminism Today. 27

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Moses in Exodus 19. In Prot. Jas.¸ “a dark cloud” (cf. the Bodmer Papyrus) or “a bright cloud” (cf. other manuscripts) “overshadowed the cave” (19:2), calling to mind God coming in “a dense cloud” in Exodus 19:9. In addition to the overshadowing cloud in Prot. Jas. 19:2, “a great light,” possibly from fire, calls to mind the “thunder and lightning” in Exodus 19:16 when limits are set around Sinai so that it is not to be touched on pain of death (Exod. 19:12ff).30 Similarly, consuming fire emerges from the Ark of the Covenant in Leviticus 10:2.31 In Prot. Jas. Mary is arguably much like the consecrated “Holy of Holies,”32 surrounded by a dense cloud like Sinai and carrying the fire of God’s presence like the ark of the covenant – easily explaining Salome’s injury when she attempts to examine Mary, whose “body becomes a channel of holy power. She is a sacred vessel, and this makes her dangerous. A divine fire continues to burn inside Mary after the baby has exited.”33 If there is anything to these potential allusions to the Torah, can we find any precedent which could imply an accidental transgression on Salome’s part? The story that comes most immediately to mind is that of Uzzah, who in 2 Samuel 6:6, 7 makes the innocent mistake of reaching out to steady the Ark of the Covenant when it is jostled on an ox-driven cart. The consequences and punishment are real, the transgression an honest mistake. Additionally, Salome’s injury may allude to specific New Testament healings, including that of the man with the withered hand (cf. Mark 3:1ff pars.) and that of the woman who touches the fringe of Jesus’s garment (cf. Mark 5:28 pars. with Prot. Jas. 20:3 and PseudoMatthew 13:5), neither of whose ailments were the result of moral transgressions. “Doubting Thomas / Salome”? If Salome functions as a midwife performing a medical evaluation in Prot. Jas. 20, and if her temporary fiery ordeal need not imply ill intentions on her part, then the reading of Salome as a responsible midwife in Prot. Jas. Samuel Zinner discussed these allusions with me in personal correspondence dated October 5, 2018. 31 Also discussed in correspondence with Zinner, on October 6, 2018. 32 Cf. Megan Nutzman, “Mary in the Protevangelium of James: A Jewish Woman in the Temple?” Greek, Roman, and Byzantine Studies 53 (2013): 555, n. 8. 33 Frilingos, Jesus, 57. 30

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20 cannot be ruled out as a possibility. The only other obstacle to such a reading lies not in chapter 20, but in 19:3, in which, according to all the manuscripts, Salome expresses disbelief that a virgin could give birth. Like the textual variants noted above for 20:1, various manuscripts range from the least shocking “unless I see” (ean mē idō) to “unless I examine her condition / nature” (ean mē ereunēsō tēn physin autēs) to the most traumatizing “unless I insert my finger and examine her condition / nature” (ean mē balō ton daktylon mou kai eraunēsō tēn physin autēs), using the same words as “doubting Thomas” in John 20:25 (ean mē … balō ton daktylon mou). The earliest manuscript, the Bodmer Papyrus, attests to this latter reading. In his article, “Caught in the Act: Mary and the Adulteress,” Zervos argues at some length that the parallel to John 20:25 is rather shaky in the textual tradition, concluding that “the overwhelming witness of the [manuscript] tradition of the Prot. Jas. confirms … the ‘explicit Johannine parallel’ [i.e., John 20:25] … cannot be considered with any degree of certainty to be the original reading.”34 However, his discussion of the allusion is arguably too focused on the phrase balō ton daktylon mou (“insert my finger”). There are actually several elements of John 20:25 which are widely attested among the textual variants of Prot. Jas. 19:3. Most obvious is the formula ean mē … ou mē pisteusō (“unless … I won’t believe”). In the space indicated by that ellipsis, we find several terms in John 20:25 that occur in one or another of the key textual variants in Prot. Jas. 19:3: ean mē idō … kai balō ton daktylon mou … kai balō mou tēn cheira … ou mē pisteusō (“unless I see … and insert my finger … and insert my hand … I won’t believe”). In some manuscripts of Prot. Jas., we find the verb idō (“I see”35); in others, balō ton daktylon mou (“insert my finger”36); and in yet others, balō tēn chiera(n) mou (“insert my hand”37). In some, we don’t find idō (“I see”), daktylon (“finger”), or cheira (“hand”), as in John 20:25, but we do find the phrase ereunēsō tēn physin autēs (“examine her condition”) as in the Bodmer Papyrus.38 Based on these observations, it is not George Zervos, “Caught in the Act: Mary and the Adulteress,” Apocrypha 15 (2004): 94. For his discussion of the textual variants in 19:3, cf. 91-94. 35 Cf. A (tenth – fourteenth century) and E (eleventh century). 36 Cf. the Bodmer Papyrus, dating to the late third or early fourth century. 37 Cf. G (twelfth – thirteenth century) and H (fifteenth – seventeenth century). 38 Cf. B (twelfth – thirteenth century), I (thirteenth – fourteenth century), L (sixteenth century), and R (sixteenth – seventeenth centuries). 34

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difficult to conclude that the later manuscript tradition betrays knowledge of both John 20:25 and its adaptation in the Bodmer Papyrus. But could the allusion to John 20:25 in the late third- or early fourthcentury Bodmer Papyrus itself be a later interpolation into a text whose earliest versions (dating back to the second century) lacked any such Johannine allusions? Perhaps the most compelling argument against the original dependence of Prot. Jas. on John’s Gospel is the fact that allusions to John in Prot. Jas. are virtually nonexistent, compared to the abundant allusions of Prot. Jas. to the Synoptic Gospels (cf. Table 3). Apart from Prot. Jas. 19:3, the most widely cited parallel to John is Prot. Jas. 16:3, in which the priest tells Joseph and Mary, oude egō [kata]krinō hymas (“neither do I [condemn] / judge you”; cf. John 8:11, oude egō se [kata]krinō). Zervos argues extensively against dependence on John 8:11, pointing out that the so-called “pericope adulterae” in John 7:53 – 8:11 is not attested in any manuscripts of John’s Gospel prior to the fifth century.39 By contrast, the attestation of this phrase in Prot. Jas. 16:3 can be found as early as the Bodmer Papyrus itself, dating to the late third or early fourth century. Whatever one may think of Zervos’ own theory regarding the potential relationship of the two texts,40 nevertheless his basic argument against Johannine dependence in 16:3 appears solid. There is, however, a less frequently observed Johannine reference in Prot. Jas. 19:1, where Joseph invites the Hebrew midwife to “come and see” Mary, who had conceived by the Holy Spirit. As noted in Table 1, textual variants include deuro kai ide, elthe kai ide, and erchou kai ide. The allusion is likely to John 1:39, 46; 4:29; 11:34, influenced by Matt. 28:6.41 Perhaps also significantly, this Johannine allusion is included in the longer version of Prot. Jas., not in the earlier Bodmer Papyrus, which appears to remain free of Johannine influence everywhere except in one other passage, in Prot. Jas. 19:3, which appears unambiguously to frame Zervos, “Caught in the Act,” 105. Zervos suggests that the accused woman may originally have been Mary, and that the pericope may have originated in a source document of Prot. Jas. but had later been detached, edited, and incorporated into John; ibid., cf. 110, 111. 41 “In the four canonical gospels the phrase ‘come and see’ occurs only in John (in chs. 1, 4, and 11), where it is derived from Matt 28:6’s ‘come, see,’ deute idete, which occurs in the resurrection story. John adds a connective kai to this phrase.” Zinner, “Infancy Gospels,” 36. De Strycker also notes John 1:46 as a verbal allusion; cf. Protévangile, 154. 39 40

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Prot. Jas. 20 in terms of Salome’s disbelief. Indeed, this expression of doubt coincides precisely with Salome’s introduction as a character clearly distinguished from the anonymous midwife. This is the very point at which the narrative becomes muddled over the question of Salome’s role and whether we’re reading about one or two midwives. This ambiguity would dissolve if the entirety of Prot. Jas. 19:3 were determined to be a later scribal interpolation. If in fact Joseph brought to the cave one midwife, Salome, then chapter 20 could cohere more effectively as the story of a genuinely concerned midwife. And it would not require a reconstruction as extensive as what Zervos has proposed for an earlier version of the narrative. It is actually a much simpler solution; if we remove this one section, the entire narrative becomes more consistent. To state it more succinctly, the nearly nonexistent allusions to John in the Bodmer Papyrus (apart from the critical reference to John 20:25) could perhaps be explained on the basis that the author of the original second-century version of Prot. Jas. was unfamiliar with John, but by the time of the third- or fourth-century manuscript, a later editor, familiar with John’s Gospel, may have transformed this narrative from the story of a well-meaning midwife named Salome into a story about Mary’s postpartum virginity by inserting 19:3 – a secondary scribal assimilation to John 20:25. This would not only explain the paucity of Johannine allusions throughout Prot. Jas., it would also resolve the apparent ambiguity regarding Salome and the midwife. Unfortunately, this proposed reconstruction must remain hypothetical. Even though the instability of the textual tradition is more pronounced throughout this part of the text than at any other, nevertheless we have no actual manuscripts that lack 19:3, which introduces Salome as a character clearly distinguished from the Hebrew midwife whose testimony she doubts.42 But again, the narrative as it currently stands raises more questions than answers, fully justifying continued critical engagement with this most problematic portion of Prot. Jas. Zinner’s conclusion (“Infancy Gospels,” 27) is that allusions to Exodus 1-4 in Prot. Jas. 18-20 argue for the presence of two Hebrew midwives (cf. Exod. 1:15ff) and explain the withering of Salome’s hand in Prot. Jas. 20:1 (cf. Exod. 4:6, 7). 42

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Appendix: Who Is Salome? Who is Salome in Prot. Jas. 19, 20? In his 1958 book on the Papyrus Bodmer V, Michel Testuz suggests an allusion to Semele, mother of Dionysos, also born in a cave.43 However, this proposed connection has proved too thin for most.44 Smith argues that Salome is the disciple in the passion narrative of Mark 15:40,41,45 but in his essay “Christmas with Salome,”46 Zervos cites as “persuasive” Bauckham’s argument, contra Smith, identifying her as the purported half-sister of Jesus described by Epiphanius (Pan. 78.8,9; Ancoratus 60.1). Zervos cites Bauckham’s argument “that the Protevangelium’s readers would hardly expect to find [the disciple Salome] loitering outside a cave on the road from Jerusalem to Bethlehem at the time of the birth of Jesus,”47 adding that “one of the sisters of Jesus would naturally be traveling with the family on their journey to Bethlehem.”48 For his part, Bauckham goes on to cite a 1989 study by Tal Ilan that of 247 Jewish women’s names in Palestine from 330 B.C.E. to 200 C.E, 61 were called Salome and 58 were called Mary. “In other words,” he writes, “these two names account for 47.7% of the women. Every second Palestinian woman must have been called either Salome or Mary.”49 Such a statistic could even cause one to wonder whether “Salome” in Prot. Jas. could be neither Jesus’ later disciple nor a purported half-sister from later tradition, but a randomly-selected Palestinian name. However, the statistics originally cited by Bauckham were skewed, according to John Painter. He writes: The figures given by Bauckham indicate that Ilan was working with less-complete data. Her article mentions only 247 women bearing 68 different names (contrast 317 bearing 110 different names in the later study). According to the Michel Testuz, Papyrus Bodmer V: Nativité de Marie (Cologny-Genève: Bibliotheca Bodmeriana, 1958), 107; cf. 19. 44 Cf. Smid, Protevangelium, 19, 20. 45 Smith, Clement, 191. 46 Zervos, “Christmas,” 88, 89. 47 Bauckham, Jude, 40. 48 Zervos, “Christmas,” 89, n. 23. 49 Bauckham, Jude, 43. 43

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1989 article quoted by Bauckham, 61 of the 247 women were called Salome and 58 (or 59) were called Mary. That is, 120 of the 247 Palestinian Jewish women whose names we know were called either Salome or Mary. Two names account for 47.7 percent of the 247 women whose names we know, though 68 different names are attested. The remaining 127 women have 66 different names, compared with the 120 who have one of two names, Salome and Mary. [Tal Ilan’s] Lexicon [of Jewish Names in Late Antiquity Part I; Palestine 330 BCE-200 CE] (2002) reverses this order. Here (p. 57), 80 women are named Mary and only 62 named Salome. This is a decisive reversal. With the addition of only seventy more women to the list, 21 or 22 of these were called Mary and only one called Salome. This fortuitous illustration shows how unreliable this sample of evidence is when the omission of a small sample can skew the results.50 Most likely, Salome is neither a warmed-over Greek mythological figure, a stock name, Jesus’ purported half-sister, nor his later disciple, but rather a key character inspired by that Salome who visited another cave associated with another Joseph (of Arimathea) at the other end of Jesus’ life.51 This may be the most plausible explanation of exactly who this Salome is, although of course caution is always prudent. As noted above, most important is the question of exactly what role this Salome plays in the narrative – to be specific, whether she was originally portrayed as a responsible midwife or as a reckless skeptic who serves as a convenient foil to a virgin birth.

John Painter, Just James: The Brother of Jesus in History and Tradition, Second Edition (Columbia, SC: University of South Carolina Press, 2004), 280,281; cf. also 308. 51 Cf. Vanden Eykel, Faces, 158-162. Cf. also Zinner, “Infancy Gospels,” 26: “I posit that the origin of PJ’s nativity cave can be explained as a retrojection of Jesus’ burial cave, thus implicitly linking Jesus’ birth with his death.” Interestingly, the Sahidic Coptic fragment of The Life of the Virgin cited by Smith and Bauckham in note 19 above describes the cave as a “tomb”; cf. Forbes Robinson, Coptic Apocryphal Gospels (Cambrige: University Press, 1896), 196, 197. 50

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Table 3. The Protevangelium Jacobi and the Canonical Gospels Prot. Jas. Matthew Mark Luke John 1:4 4:1,2 5:1 5:2 6:1 6:2 6:3 7:2 7:3 8:1 8:3 9:2 9:3 10:2 11:1 11:2 11:3 12:1 12:2 12:3 13:3 14:1 14:2 15:3 16:3 17:1-3 19:1 19:2 19:3 19:3, 20.1 20:2 20:3 20:4 21:1 21:2 21:3

4:2

1:13

1:20 1:24

4:2 1:13,31 18:14 1:47,57 2:40 1:48 1:25; 2:20 1:48 2:40 2:20 1:18 1:20-22; 64 1:28,29,42 1:31,34 1:32,35,38 1:42,48 1:26,39-44,48 1:24,56 1:34

1:21

1:19; 27:4 1:20-24; 2:13 1:34 5:25 2:1-7 1:18,20; 28:6 17:5

1:39,46; 4:29; 11:34 9:7

2:30; 5:26; 9:34; 19:9 1:27; 2:5

15:40 8:13 17:9 2:1-5 2:7,8 2:9-12

8:11

15:40 9:9

13:32 18:14 8:47

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Prot. Jas. 22:1 22:2 23:1-3 23:3 24:1 24:3 24:4

Matthew 2:16

Mark

John

2:7 1:5-24 11:51 1:21

23:35 27:51

Luke

15:38 2:25,26

Acknowledgements Particular thanks are due to Ally Kateusz, who provided the principal inspiration for this essay and provided valuable feedback; Deborah Saxon, Mary Ann Beavis, and Samuel Zinner, who reviewed this manuscript from a theological perspective; and Jenn Seif, who reviewed this manuscript from a midwife’s perspective. References Primary sources de Strycker, Émile. La Forme la plus ancienne du Protévangile de Jacques. Brussels: Société des Bollandistes, 1961. Elliott, J.K. A Synopsis of the Apocryphal Nativity and Infancy Narratives: Second Edition, Revised and Expanded. Boston: Brill, 2016. Ephrem, Hymns on the Nativity. Accessed October 27, 2018. http://www.newadvent.org/fathers/3703.htm. Hock, Ronald F. The Infancy Gospels of James and Thomas. Santa Rosa, CA: Polebridge Press, 1995. Robinson, Forbes. Coptic Apocryphal Gospels. Cambrige: University Press, 1896. Schneemelcher, Wilhelm, ed. Translated by R. McL. Wilson. New Testament Apocrypha, Vol. 1: Gospels and Related Writings. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1991. Testuz, Michel. Papyrus Bodmer V: Nativité de Marie. Cologny-Genève: Bibliotheca Bodmeriana, 1958. Wayment, Thomas A. The Text of the New Testament Apocrypha (100 – 400 CE). New York, NY: Bloomsbury T&T Clark, 2013.

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Secondary literature Bauckham, Richard. Jude and the Relatives of Jesus in the Early Church. Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1990. Eltrop, Bettina, and Claudia Janssen. “Protevangelium of James: God’s Story Goes On.” In Feminist Biblical Interpretation: A Compendium of Critical Commentary on the Books of the Bible and Related Literature, edited by Luise Schottroff and Marie-Theres Wacker, 990-996. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2012. Frilingos, Christopher A. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph: Family Trouble in the Infancy Gospels. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2017. Nutzman, Megan. “Mary in the Protevangelium of James: A Jewish Woman in the Temple?” Greek, Roman, and Byzantine Studies 53, no. 3 (2013): 551-578. Painter, John. Just James: The Brother of Jesus in History and Tradition, Second Edition. Columbia, SC: University of South Carolina Press, 2004. Schaberg, Jane. “The Infancy of Mary of Nazareth.” In Searching the Scriptures, Volume Two: A Feminist Commentary, edited by Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, 708-727. New York, NY: Crossroad, 1994. Smid, H.R. Translated by G.E. van Baaren-Pape. Protevangelium Jacobi: A Commentary. Assen: Van Gorcum, 1965. Smith, Morton. Clement of Alexandria and a Secret Gospel of Mark. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1973. Totelin, Laurence. “Call the Roman Midwife.” Accessed November 11, 2018. https://www.historyextra. com/period/roman/call-the-roman-midwife. Vanden Eykel, Eric M. “But Their Faces Were All Looking Up”: Author and Reader in the Protevangelium of James. London: T&T Clark, 2016. Zervos, George. “Caught in the Act: Mary and the Adulteress.” Apocrypha 15 (2004): 57-114. _____. “Christmas with Salome.” In A Feminist Companion to Mariology, edited by Amy-Jill Levine and Maria Mayou Robb, 77-98. New York, NY: T&T Clark, 2005. _____. “Seeking the Source of the Marian Myth: Have We Found the Missing Link?” In Which Mary? The Marys of Early Christian Tradition, ed. F. Stanley Jones, 107-120. Atlanta: SBL, 2002. Zinner, Samuel. “The Infancy Gospels of James and Thomas and the Canonical Gospels in Conversation with Josephus: Reconstructing Historical Backgrounds – Assessing Literary Parallels,” forthcoming in the Journal of Higher Criticism Supplement Series.

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Introduction to Mary as High Priest in Early Christian Narratives and Iconography Ally Kateusz Wijngaards Institute of Catholic Research, United Kingdom

Several scholars have recently published research regarding depictions in art of Mary, Jesus’s mother, as a priest.1 The purpose of this essay is to examine the early Christian narratives which appear to be behind the iconography, and also to present examples where Mary was depicted in art as a high priest or bishop.2 Finally, I will give examples which explain how we have lost sight of this early memory of Mary. Literary roots of Mary’s liturgical authority The canonical gospels—Mary as the New Abraham Cleo McNelly Kearns argues that the gospels themselves present Mary as a founder of the Jesus movement, a founder parallel to Abraham, the Rafka Youssef Nasr, “Priestly Ornaments and the Priesthood of the Mother of God,” Chronos 40 (2019): 119–34; Ally Kateusz, Mary and Early Christian Women: Hidden Leadership (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2019), 67–99; Alexei Lidov, “The Priesthood of the Virgin Mary as an Image-Paradigm of Christian Visual Culture,” IKON 10 (2017): 9–26; Mary M. Schaefer, Women in Pastoral Office: The Story of Santa Prassede, Rome (New York: Oxford University Press, 2013), 229–36; Matthew Milliner, “Virgin and the Passion: Development, Dissemination, and Afterlife of a Byzantine Icon Type” (Dissertation, Princeton University, 2011), 106–131. In this essay I am building upon this previous research including my own in Mary and Early Christian Women cited above. 2 It would be of value to engage with the work of Lynn Cohick, Kim HainesEitzen and Patricia Cox Miller and consider women’s role in the production and reception of early Christian theology and art, but that is beyond the scope of the current project. 1

Introduction to Mary as High Priest in Early Christian Narratives and Iconography

founder of Hebrew religion. Kearns says the gospels, especially Luke and John, portray Mary as “the New Abraham” in ways that an audience familiar with scripture could not miss.3 For example, Abraham received a divine annunciation that said he would have a miraculously conceived firstborn son. Mary likewise received a divine annunciation that said she would have a miraculously conceived firstborn son. The sons of Abraham and Mary both carried the wood for their sacrifice on their back. Abraham stood on the top of Mount Moriah for the sacrifice of his son. Mary stood on the top of Golgotha for the sacrifice of hers. In both cases due to a miracle, their sons lived. A revolutionary first-century cultural change within Judaism may help explain how people in Palestine could imagine that a woman could be a founding mother like Abraham was a founding father. During the first century Judaism changed from patriline to matriline. That is, whereas previously a baby was a Jew only if its father was a Jew, after the destruction of the second Temple, the cultural change was complete—a baby was a Jew only if its mother was a Jew.4 A founding mother would appear to be consistent with this revolutionary social change within Judaism. In any case, Kearns says Abraham and Mary were “invoked as a founding figure in the cultic and sacrificial discourses that follow in the wake of those narratives; Abraham in the priesthood and temple cult of Israel and Mary in the ecclesiastical body and sacerdotal discourse of the Christian Church.”5 The roots of surviving early Christian portrayals of Mary as a priest, high priest, bishop, and even bishop of bishops, thus arguably originated in elements of Jewish culture that influenced the Jesus followers. The Protevangelium of James—Mary and the Annunciation in the Temple Given the gospel understanding of Mary as a New Abraham who was “a founding figure in the cultic and sacrificial discourses of the Christian church,” as Kearns describes it, it becomes easier to understand why Cleo McNelly Kearns, The Virgin Mary, Monotheism, and Sacrifice (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008), 88–108, 137–65. 4 Shaye D. Cohen, The Beginnings of Jewishness: Boundaries, Varieties, Uncertainties (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1999), 263ff. 5 Kearns, Virgin Mary, Monotheism, and Sacrifice, 97. 3

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authors of extracanonical gospels—gospels outside the canon— portrayed Mary as a high priest. The Protevangelium of James is probably the best-known of these early Christian gospels. This gospel, which described Mary’s early life, has long been thought to be second century because some of its traditions were believed inconsistent with Jewish scripture. Recent research, however, indicates that some of those traditions were consistent with other Jewish literature, such as the Mishnah.6 Accordingly, in the last decades some scholars have argued that this gospel may have been composed in the first century, either in whole or in part.7 An early dating is notably consistent with this gospel’s lack of anti-Jewish language in comparison to the canonical gospels. It is also consistent with the way its author never used the term “Christian” and instead self-identified with Israel.8 Suggesting that the author was comfortable with the depiction of Mary as high priest, the Protevangelium twice specifies that Mary had been inside the Holy of Holies of the

Tim Horner, “Jewish Aspects of the Protevangelium of James,” Journal of Early Christian Studies 12:3 (2004): 313–35; H. R. Smid, Protevangelium Jacobi: A Commentary (Assen: van Gorcum, 1965), 9-12; Megan Nutzman, “Mary in the Protevangelium of James: A Jewish Woman in the Temple?” Greek, Roman, and Byzantine Studies 53 (2013): 551-78; and Lily C. “Let Us Bring Her Up to the Temple of the Lord,” in Infancy Gospels: Stories and Identities, ed. Claire Clivas, Andreas Dettwiler, Luc Devillers and Enrico Norelli (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011), 418–32. 7 Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, Jesus: Miriam’s Child, Sophia’s Prophet: Critical Issues in Feminist Christology (New York: Continuum: 1994), 182; George T. Zervos, “An Early Non-Canonical Annunciation Story,” in Society of Biblical Literature 1997 Seminar Papers (Evanston: American Theological Library Association, 1997), 664–91, esp. 686–88; George T. Zervos, “Dating the Protevangelium of James: The Justin Martyr Connection,” in Society of Biblical Literature 1994 Seminar Papers, edited by Eugene H. Lovering, Jr. (Atlanta: Scholars, 1994), 415–34; David R. Cartlidge, and J. Keith Elliott, Art and the Christian Apocrypha (New York: Routledge, 2001), 23; and J. K. Elliott, The Apocryphal New Testament: A Collection of Apocryphal Christian Literature in an English Translation based on M. R. James, ed. J. K. Elliott (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1993), 50. 8 Also see Malcolm Lowe, “ΙΟΥΔΑΙΟΙ of the Apocrypha: A Fresh Approach to the Gospels of James, Pseudo-Thomas, Peter and Nicodemus,” Novum Testamentum 23:1 (1981): 56-90, esp. 56-71. 6

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Jerusalem Temple9—the innermost sacred place, which, according to Leviticus 16 and Hebrews 9:7, only the high priest could enter. George Zervos argues that the Protevangelium originally must have depicted Mary in the Temple precincts during the Annunciation, because the very oldest Protevangelium manuscript, the third/fourth-century Papyrus Bodmer 5, preserves that after the Annunciation Mary went and sat on the thronos, which is not preserved in later manuscripts. Zervos proposes that the thronos must have referred to the throne of God, the mercy seat in the Holy of Holies.10 Following Zervos, Michael Peppard recently argued that the wall painting in the Dura-Europas Baptistery, which depicts a young woman at a water source, likely represented Mary at the Annunciation in the Temple precincts.11 This painting was executed sometime prior to the mid-third century, which is when the baptistery was buried in sand, thereby potentially making it a very early witness to the Annunciation to Mary. The Protevangelium specifies that Mary was getting water when she was first told that she would give birth, and both Zervos and Peppard propose that this water source may have represented the lavers or fountain in the Temple courtyard where priests may have washed prior to entering the Temple.12 In art, Mary is first explicitly identified with the Temple on a stone plaque found in a late fourth-century underground tomb structure in Provence, today beneath Sainte-Marie-Madeleine basilica in SaintMaximin La-Sainte-Baume. Michel Fixot dates this hypogeum to 375 and the Christian sarcophagi found in the hypogeum are of the same date, suggesting that its stone plaques are, too.13 Inscribed above Mary’s head 9 Protevangelium

13.2, 15.2 (Wilhelm, Schneemelcher, ed., New Testament Apocrypha, Volumes 1 and 2, translated by R. McL. Wilson [Rev.; Cambridge: James Clark, 1991, 1992], 1:431, 432). 10 θρόνος; see Protevangelium 23.4 (Émile de Strycker, La forme la plus ancienne du Protévangile de Jacques: Recherches sur le papyrus Bodmer 5 [Brussels: Société des Bollandistes, 1961], 114); Zervos, “Early Non-Canonical Annunciation Story,” 670. 11 Michael Peppard, The World’s Oldest Church: Bible, Art, and Ritual at DuraEuropos, Syria (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2016), 155-201, esp. 160, and fig. 5.1 for the wall painting. 12 Peppard, World’s Oldest Church, 160–66, fig. 5.3; Zervos, “Early Non-Canonical Annunciation Story,” 683. 13 Michel Fixot, La Crypte de Saint-Maximin La-Sainte-Baume: Basilique Sainte-Marie Madeleine (Aix-en-Provence: Edisud, 2001), 32-33; Fixot adds that it is possible 26

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on this plaque is the Latin: MARIA VIRGO MINESTER DE TEMPULO GEROSALE, which translates literally as “Virgin Mary, Minister of the Jerusalem Temple” (fig. 1).

Fig. 1. MARIA VIRGO MINESTER DE TEMPULO GEROSALE Stone plaque in fourth-century hypogeum, Saint-Marie-Madeleine Basilica in Saint-Maximin La-Sainte-Baume, Provence, France.

One of the most famous early scenes of the Annunciation, the mosaic panel in the Maria Maggiore Basilica ca. 432-440, depicts Mary between two white columned temple structures, which may be an allusion to the the plaques were moved into the hypogeum later, but there is no strong evidence for this. Furthermore, an accompanying plaque that depicts Daniel naked between the lions suggests a third or fourth-century dating for both plaques since his nudity was typical in those centuries, according to Robin Jensen, Understanding Early Christian Art (New York: Routledge, 2000), 174. 27

Introduction to Mary as High Priest in Early Christian Narratives and Iconography

annunciation in the Temple precincts.14 A fifth-century ivory book cover today in the Milan Cathedral Treasury Museum has two carved frames opposite each other, two scenes which similarly appear to affirm an Annunciation to Mary in the Temple precincts. The left hand frame depicts Mary with an angel at a water source, the scene that Zervos and Peppard as well as other scholars identify as part of the Annunciation in the Protevangelium.15 The right hand frame portrays Mary, the angel still at her side, about to ascend the steps of a temple.16 In both frames Mary wears an identical ornate stone collar around her neck, indicating that the two adjacent scenes represent Mary twice during the same event, the Annunciation. The Gospel of Bartholomew and the Six Books Dormition narrative—Mary as High Priest Two more early Christian texts preserve a scene that described Mary in the Temple precincts during the Annunciation. One is the Gospel of Bartholomew, sometimes called the Questions of Bartholomew, a postresurrection narrative about Jesus’s mother and some of the male disciples. The other is the Dormition narrative, which describes what happened just before and after her death. Various scholars have assessed the composition of the Gospel of Bartholomew from the second to fifth centuries, but a third-century dating appears to be uncontroversial.17 The earlier dating is suggested by docetic literary elements in its text, such as Jesus vanishing from the cross and Mary giving birth without pain, as well as the presence of a great angel in For an image of this mosaic, see Gerhard Steigerwald, Die frühchristlichen Mosaiken des Triumphbogens von S. Maria Maggiore in Rom (Berlin: Schnell and Steiner, 2016), 33–38, figs. 3 and 4. 15 For more on iconography of the so-called Annunciation at the Spring, see Maria Lidova, “XAIRE MARIA: Annunciation Imagery in the Making,” IKON 10 (2017): 45-62, esp. 53-57. 16 For the context of these two frames on the book cover, see Steigerwald, Frühchristlichen Mosaiken, 45, fig. 7. 17 Schneemelcher, New Testament Apocrypha, 1:540; and Stephen J. Shoemaker, “Mary the Apostle: A New Dormition Fragment in Coptic and Its Place in the History of Marian Literature” in Bibel, Byzanz und Christlicher Orient: Festschrift für Stephen Gerö, edited by Dmitrij F. Bumazhnov, Emmanouela Grypeou, Timothy B. Sailors, and Alexander Toepel (Leuven: Peeters, 2011), 203-29, esp. 217. 14

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the Temple, theology usually found prior to the end of the second century.18 The Gospel of Bartholomew places the Annunciation to Mary in the Temple precincts, in this case, at the very altar itself. According to its text, just before the Annunciation Mary stood at the Temple altar sharing bread and wine with a great angel who afterwards told her she would give birth.19 The Dormition narrative about the later life and death of Mary also represents the Annunciation taking place within the Temple precincts, again with Mary in the role of high priest. Long thought to have been written after the Council of Chalcedon in 451, recent scholarship has led to a near consensus that the composition of the Dormition narrative likely dates to the third or even second century. The Dormition text tradition that preserves the Annunciation to Mary in the Temple is often called the Six Books text tradition, because its preface states that the apostles wrote six books about Mary’s passing, and also called the censers and incense text tradition, because it preserves so many instances of Mary and other women with censers and incense.20 Remarkably, the very oldest mostly complete Dormition manuscript is in the Six Books text tradition, which was preserved in the fifth-century under script of an Old Syriac palimpsest.21 Due to the archaic literary elements in Dormition narratives, a variety of scholars have concluded that the Dormition narrative originated around Jerusalem in a community with knowledge of rabbinic custom.22 According to its narrative, Mary lived in the Temple Gospel of Bartholomew 1.7 and 1.9 (Jesus disappeared from the cross); 2.15-20 (great angel); 3.17 and 4.61 (Mary gave birth with no pain). For these archaic elements, some of which may date to the second century despite the difficulty of dating this text, see Jean-Daniel Kaestli, trans., L’évangile de Barthélemy d’après deus écrits apocryphes (Belgium: Brepols, 1993), 45-94. 19 Gospel of Bartholomew 2.15-21. 20 Michel-Jean Van Esbroeck, “Les textes littéraires sur l’Assomption avant le Xe siècle,” in Les actes apocryphes des apôtres, ed. François Bovon (Geneva: Labor et Fides, 1981), 265-85. 21 Smith Lewis, Agnes, “Transitus Mariae,” in Apocrypha Syriaca: The Protevangelium Jacobi and Transitus Mariae, Studia Sinaitica 11, ed. Agnes Smith Lewis (London: C. J. Clay, 1902), 12-69. 22 Bellarmino Bagatti, “La verginità di Maria negli apocrifi del II-III secolo,” Marianum 33 (1971): 281–92; Bellarmino Bagatti, Michele Piccirillo, and Alberto Prodromo, New Discoveries at the Tomb of the Virgin Mary in Gethsemane (Jerusalem: Franciscan Printing Press, 1975), 14, 57-58. For the influence of the rabbinic 18

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and after the angel of the Annunciation departed, she “set forth the censer of incense to God.”23 Given the other associations of the Annunciation with the Temple, this may refer to the Temple incense offering, which according to Exodus 30 and Leviticus 16:12-14 only the high priest could perform. Portraits of Mary as a liturgical leader The narrative in the fifth-century Six Books palimpsest manuscript is especially striking in the way that it depicts Mary with many markers of the priesthood. In addition to setting out the censer of incense to God, this text also describes her exorcizing demons, sealing and sprinkling water on people, teaching, preaching, and giving women books to take to their homes around the Mediterranean.24 Most importantly in a discussion of the relationship of these early narratives to subsequent iconography, the Six Books Dormition narrative shares a scene with the Gospel of Bartholomew (sometimes called the Questions of Bartholomew), with both describing Mary essentially as the liturgical leader of the male apostles. Both narratives preserve unique details, but each depicts Mary raising her hands and leading the male apostles in prayer, essentially a portrait of her as their bishop, or high priest.25 In the Six Books narrative this scene takes place soon after Mary learns she will soon die. According to the text, twelve male apostles— the eleven original apostles plus the apostle Paul—returned to Jerusalem to Midrash, see Frédéric Manns, “La mort de Marie dans le texte de la Dormition de Marie,” Augustinianum 19, no. 3 (1979): 507-15; see also Enrico Norelli, “La letteratura apocrifa sul transito di Maria e il problema delle sue origini,” in Il dogma dell’assunzione di Maria: problemi attuali e tentativi di ricomprensione, edited by Ermanno M. Toniolo (Rome: Edizioni Marianum, 2010), 121-65; and Cothenet, “Traditions bibliques et apocalyptiques dans les récits anciens de la Dormition,” in Marie dans les récits apocryphes chrétiens, ed. Édouard Cothenet et al. (Paris: Médiaspaul, 2004), 155-75. 23 Smith Lewis, “Transitus Mariae,” 47-48. 24 Kateusz, “Collyridian Déjà vu,” 79-84; and Kateusz, Mary and Early Christian Women, 19–48. The Syriac word used is variously translated as writings and small books, but could also be translated as letters. 25 Gospel of Bartholomew 2.6-13 (Schneemelcher, New Testament Apocrypha, 1:54344). For the description of Mary in this scene as essentially their liturgical leader, see Shoemaker, “Mary the Apostle,” 217. 30

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see her from their missions around the Mediterranean and reported to her. After they all finished their accounts, Mary raised her hands and led the prayer, praising God: And when my Lady Mary heard these things from the Apostles she stretched out her hands to heaven and prayed, saying, “I worship and praise and sing and laud that I am not a mockery to the nations of the Gentiles . . . and I will praise His gracious name for ever and ever. And I cannot glorify His grace sufficiently; that He hath sent His holy disciples to me.” And after Mary had prayed, the Apostles set forth the censer of incense, and knelt with their faces down and prayed.26 Before praying, Mary raised her hands, which Alexei Lidov says is a gesture “interpreted in iconographic studies as a liturgical one,” which can be traced back “to the daily offering of the Evening Sacrifice in the Jerusalem Temple, the Old Testament prototype of the Eucharist.”27 For example, Psalm 141:2 explains, Let the raising of my hands be as the evening sacrifice. The scene in which Mary raised her arms and praised God—and then the apostles prostrated themselves—seems to closely follow Sirach 50:19–21, which says that the high priest in the Temple raised his hands and praised God, after which the people prostrated themselves. According to Leviticus 9:22, Deuteronomy 10:8 and 23:20, 1 Chronicles, and Sirach 50:20-21, the high priest raised hands and then blessed people, just as in Luke 24:50, Jesus raised his hands and blessed people. Notably, the fifth-century Six Books palimpsest, as well as medieval Arabic and Ethiopic Six Books manuscripts, preserve scenes in which Mary raised her hands and blessed people, some of which depict those people prostrating themselves, just as according to Sirach 50:19–21 people did to the high priest in the Temple.28 Smith Lewis, “Transitus Mariae,” 32. Shoemaker says “my Lady Mary” is best translated as “my master Mary” in Stephen J. Shoemaker, Ancient Traditions of the Virgin Mary’s Dormition and Assumption, Oxford Early Christian Studies (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002), 370 n. 3. 27 Lidov, “Priesthood of the Virgin Mary,” 10. 28 Smith Lewis, “Transitus Mariae,” 24; Ethiopic Six Books 27 (Shoemaker, Ancient Traditions, 378); William Wright, “The History of the Virgin Mary, the Holy Mother of God,” in Contributions to the Apocryphal Literature of the New Testament: 26

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The Gospel of Bartholomew also says Mary raised her arms and led the male apostles in prayer, but here, instead of prostrating before her, the text says that when she raised her arms to pray, they stood up behind her. What is most remarkable, however, is that in this scene Mary gives them every opportunity to assert male authority over her, but the male apostles not only insist that Mary has more right than Peter to lead the prayer, they also reject the gendered headship theology of 1 Cor 11:3-10 and Eph 5:23, verses sometimes used to argue the authority of men over women, including in church leadership. The male apostles rebut this headship theology by saying that Jesus was pleased to be contained by Mary—that is, to be born from her—and that therefore she should lead the prayer. Their rebuttal appears to reference 1 Cor 11:12, where Paul himself seems to contradict the headship argument by saying that even if a woman came out of a man, ever since every man has come out of a woman: She said: “Let us stand up in prayer.” And the apostles stood behind Mary. And she said to Peter: “Peter, chief of the apostles, the greatest pillar, do you stand behind me? Did not our Lord say: The head of the man is Christ, but the head of the woman is the man? Therefore stand in front of me to pray.” But they said to her: “In you the Lord set his tabernacle and was pleased to be contained by you. Therefore you now have more right than we to lead in prayer.” . . . Then Mary stood up before them, and spread out her hands to heaven and began to pray thus: “O God exceeding great and all-wise . . .”29 Several sixth or seventh century iconographic artifacts preserve the scene of Mary raising her arms as the liturgical leader of twelve

Collected and Edited from Syriac Manuscripts in the British Museum, ed. William Wright (London: Williams and Norgate, 1865), 18-24, 21; Pilar González Casado, “Las relaciones lingüísticas entre el siríaco y el árabe en textos religiosos árabes cristianos,” dissertation, (Universidad Complutense de Madrid, 2013), 572. 29 Gospel of Bartholomew II.6-13 (Schneemelcher, New Testament Apocrypha, I:54344), quote marks mine. 32

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apostles—the original eleven plus Paul.30 One of the most interesting of these scenes is on a five-panel painted reliquary box typically dated 500s, and made in Palestine, today in the Vatican Museum (fig. 2).31

Fig. 2. Painted reliquary box with five scenes. 500s, Palestine. Pio Cristiano Museum, Rome. Ally Kateusz, “Ascension of Christ or Ascension of Mary? Reconsidering a Popular Early Iconography,” Journal of Early Christian Studies 23, no. 2 (Summer 2015): 273–303, esp. 275–78, fig. 2. 31 John Lowden, Early Christian and Byzantine Art (London: Phaidon, 2003), 211, fig. 118. 30

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The five painted panels on this box demonstrate that Mary was depicted as the liturgical leader of the twelve men because the artist depicted the same woman dressed in a black maphorion in five scenes, including the Nativity. Top right is the liturgical scene. Top left depicts the two Marys approaching the tomb of Jesus in the Anastasis rotunda. The crucifixion is in the center, with Jesus’s mother in her usual place at the foot of the cross. Bottom right depicts the Baptism, with what appears to be the same woman standing bareheaded in the background behind John the Baptist, her hair in a topknot, while an angel holds out her black maphorion as if waiting to dry her son with it. And, bottom left, is the early Byzantine iconography of the Nativity, which affirms without question that the woman in the black maphorion is Mary, because here she rests after having given birth, her swaddled son in a manger, Joseph seated at her feet. The top right scene (fig. 2A) is especially interesting because it illustrates the twelve apostles standing behind Mary, just as described in the Gospel of Bartholomew. Mary is flanked on the left by Paulwho as early as the second-century Acts of Thecla was described as balding, and who is often portrayed that way in art—and on the right by Peter, who is usually depicted with thick curly hair.32 Above we see Jesus descending inside an orb held by four angels. In this iconography, Mary is portrayed as the liturgical leader of the apostles. When the apostles are understood as bishops, then here Mary can be seen as their liturgical leader, essentially as the bishop of bishops. In the past this iconography often was identified as the Ascension of Christ, despite that the canonical gospels place neither Mary nor Paul at the scene of Jesus’s ascension. The presence of Paul was especially perplexing because Paul did not convert until several years after Jesus ascended. Recently, however, this iconography was identified as the Six Books Dormition scene of Mary lifting her arms and leading the male apostles in prayer just before she died and Jesus came down to take her up to heaven.33

Cartlidge and Elliott, Art and the Apocrypha, 134–71, including figs. 5.4 and 5.17; and Robin Jensen, Face to Face: Portraits of the Divine in Early Christianity (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2005), 186–91, figs. 93, 94 and 97. 33 Kateusz, “Ascension of Christ or Ascension of Mary,” 273-303. 32

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Fig. 2A. Panel portraying Mary as liturgical leader. 500s, Palestine. Pio Cristiano Museum, Rome.

The best-known example of this iconography is an illumination of the Rabbula Gospels, which were penned by a Syriac scribe near Ancient Syria in 586. The illumination appears to preserve a remarkable synchronicity with the Six Books scene found in the fifth-century Dormition palimpsest. According to the Six Books text, after the twelve apostles arrived, Mary raised her arms to prayand in the Rabbula illumination we see Mary, arms-raised, flanked by twelve men, including Paul with his bald pate on the left and Peter with his curly bangs on the right, just as they are seen in the similar scene on the painted reliquary box above. According to the Six Books text, after Mary prayed, chariot wheels thundered, as if from heaven.34 Not long after, Jesus descended from heaven “on the chariot of the seraphim who were carrying Him.”35 He took his mother in his “chariot of light” and “they ascended on

34 35

Lewis, “Transitus Mariae,” 32–33; Wright, “Departure,” 141. Lewis, “Transitus Mariae,” 55; Wright, “Departure, 151. 35

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wheels of fire.”36 In the Rabbula gospel illumination, Jesus is seen inside a sphere that is held up by seraphim and which has red chariot wheels below emitting dramatic red flames.37 Mary portrayed as Eucharistic Officiant The Eucharistic Cloth Consistent with the description of Mary as a liturgical leader in the Six Books as well as the Gospel of Bartholomew, the painters of both the Rabbula gospel illumination and the liturgical scene on the painted reliquary box illustrated Mary with a marker of a Eucharistic officiant, a white cloth hanging from the girdle at her waist. While prominent on the Rabbula illumination, it is much smaller on the reliquary box panel, though still visible against her black garb.38 This liturgical insignia was comprised of two strips of narrow white cloth, often with fringe, sometimes embroidered with stripes or a cross, and looped over the girdle at the waist until the performance of the Eucharist, at which time it was usually held in the left hand. Its origin was probably the doubled cloth called a mappa that a consul or emperor held.39 When seen in the altar area of a church it seems to have similarly signified the bearer’s authority, acquiring a liturgical function. This cloth (when on a man) had different names in East and West, so I simply call it the Eucharistic cloth. In the West, for example, it was later called the maniple, and Lidov says that its analogue in the East was “the so-called enchirion (literally “handy”) – a white handkerchief hanging at the girdle of an archpriest, later called Wright, “Departure,” 157; the palimpsest edited by Lewis has a gap in the manuscript here. 37 Kateusz, “Ascension of Christ or Ascension of Mary,” 286-87. 38 Although Mary was most commonly portrayed in dark blue or purple garments, and occasionally in brown, as in the Euprasiana mosaics, here her maphorion is black. 39 Joseph Braun, “Maniple,” in The Catholic Encyclopedia: An International Work of Reference on the Constitution, Doctrine, Discipline, and History of the Catholic Church, vol. 9, ed. Charles G. Herbermann, Edward A. Pace, Condé Bénoist Pallen, Thomas J. Shahan, John J. Wynne, and Andrew Alphonsus MacErlean, (New York: Encyclopedia, 1910), 9:601-602; and Joseph Braun, Die liturgische Gewandung im Occident und Orient: nach Ursprung und Entwicklung, Verwendung und Symbolik (Freiburg: Herder, 1907), 515–61. 36

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epigonation”; Lidov further points out that “The white handkerchief, although not identified directly with a specific liturgical object, carefully introduced the theme of the participation of the Virgin in the Eucharistic sacrifice and of Her priesthood.”40 This Eucharistic cloth at Mary’s waist while her arms are raised in the liturgical posture is consistent with Mary’s portrayal in the various early Christian narratives that described her essentially in the role of a high priest or bishop. The association of this white cloth with the Eucharist was further emphasized when Mary was seen with it while arms-raised in the apse above the altar. In this placement, she mirrored the posture of the priest or bishop performing the Eucharist below. By the sixth century, it must have been relatively common to see Mary portrayed like this in both East and West, because some of the oldest images of Mary in church art depict her standing this way above the altar, including the sixth-century apse mosaic of a church in Livadia, Cyprus,41 and the apse painting in Chapel 17 in the Bawit Monastery in Egypt, which is usually dated no later than the sixth century.42 Attesting to the popularity of this iconography, it continued to be used in the altar apses of later churches around the Mediterranean, such as the eleventh-century Hagia Sophia Cathedral in Kiev (fig. 3),43 the eleventh-century Nea Moni church in Chios,44 and the thirteenthcentury cathedral in Cefalù, Sicily.45

Lidov, “Priesthood of the Virgin Mary,” 20, plus see figs. 13–15, 20, and 25. Richard Maguire, “A Fertile Crescent? Some Sources for the Orant Virgin in Livadia in Cyprus,” in PoCa (Postgraduate Cypriot Archaeology) 2012, edited by Hartmut Matthäus, Bärbel Morstadt, and Christian Vonhoff (Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Press, 2015), 434–36, figs. 1–3. 42 Jean Clédat, Le monastère et la nécropole de Baouȋt, Mèmoires publiés par les membres de l’Institut français d’archéologie orientale de Caire, vol. 12 (Cairo: L’Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale, 1904), pl. 40 and 41; and André Grabar, Christian Iconography: A Study of its Origins, Bollingen Series 35: The A.W. Mellon Lectures in the Fine Arts 10 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1980), 134, pl. 323. 43 Cormack, “Mother of God in Apse Mosaics,” 101, fig. 55. 44 Doula Mouriki, The Mosaics of Nea Moni on Chios, 2 vols., translated by Richard Burgi (Athens: Commercial Bank of Greece, 1985) 1:29, 2:pl. 1. 45 Kateusz, Mary and Early Christian Women, 92-93, fig 4.14; and Cormack, “Mother of God in the Apse Mosaics,” 99, fig. 52. 40 41

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Fig 3. Mary with the Eucharistic cloth hanging from her girdle. 11th c. altar apse in the Hagia Sophia, Kiev.

Also starting in the sixth century artists portrayed Mary in the altar apse holding her son with the cloth at her waist or in her left hand—as if she herself were about to offer her son on the altar below. Mary apparently was portrayed this way in the apse mosaic of the sixth-century Church of the Dormition in Nicaea, which was reportedly restored in the ninthcentury after Iconoclasm,46 as well as the sixth- or seventh-century mosaic Virgin Angeloktisti Church in Kition, Cyprus.47 Robin S. Cormack, “The Mother of God in Apse Mosaics,” in Mother of God: Representations of the Virgin in Byzantine Art, ed. Maria Vassilaki (Milan: Skira editore, 2000), 91–105, esp. 97, fig. 50. 47 Cormack, “Mother of God in Apse Mosaics,” 94, and fig. 3. 46

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Fig 4. Apse mosaic above the altar, ca 818-822, Santa Maria in Domnica church, Rome.

The most prominent altar apse mosaic with Mary holding the cloth along with her son in the East is the ninth-century restored altar apse of the Hagia Sophia in Constantinople.48 This iconography is still seen in the East in the eleventh-century altar apse mosaic in Hagia Sophia in Thessaloniki,49 and in the West in the eleventh-century altar apse mosaic in the Cathedral of Torcello.50 The most prominent example in the city of Rome of Mary holding both the cloth and her son above the altar is the early ninth-century altar apse mosaic of Maria in Domnica, which was installed by Pope Paschal between 818 and 822. In Maria in Robin S. Cormack, “The Mother of God in the Mosaics of Hagia Sophia at Constantinople,” in Mother of God: Representations of the Virgin in Byzantine Art, ed. Maria Vassilaki (Milan: Skira editore, 2000), 107–23, esp. 108–112, fig. 62. 49 Cormack, “Mother of God in the Apse Mosaics,”100–101, fig. 53. 50 Robin Cormack, “Mother of God in the Apse Mosaics,” 103, fig. 50. 48

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Domnica, the laity in the nave saw Mary above the altar, holding the cloth in her left hand as if to offer her son at the same time that the clergy below symbolically did so (figs. 4, 4A).51

Fig. 4A. Mary holds the cloth, ca. 818-822, Santa Maria in Domnica Church, Rome.

The designer of the Maria in Domnica apse mosaic of Mary appears to have replicated iconography seen three centuries earlier in Rome. In any case, Mary is similarly portrayed in two sixth-century wall paintings, seated while holding her son in her lap and holding the white fringed cloth in her left hand. One is in the lowest layer of the famous palimpsest wall of Santa Maria Antiqua52 and the other is in the Commodilla Kateusz, Mary and Early Christian Women, 93–94, fig. 4.15. John Beckwith, Early Christian and Byzantine Art, 2nd ed. (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1993), 94; and Joseph Wilpert, Die römischen Mosaiken und Malereien der kirchlichen Bauten vom IV. bis XIII. Jahrhundert, 4 vols (Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder, 1916), 660-64, pl. 134. 51 52

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Catacomb.53 The wall painting in the Commodilla Catacomb is especially interesting because it not only depicts Mary holding up the delicate cloth doubled in her left hand, it also depicts the Widow Turtura with a fringed white strip of cloth hanging from her waist as well as using a fringed white cloth to hold what appears to be a platter, or perhaps a book, which she holds up towards Mary (fig. 5). Turtura using the cloth to hold a plate or a book can be compared to perhaps the oldest surviving depictions of men using the cloth, which are on the Throne of Bishop Maximianus in Ravenna, also dated sixth century. Four panels on the front of the throne depict four men holding a gospel book with the cloth, presumably the four evangelists. While three hold their books with the cloth under the books, the fourth holds his cloth in his left hand, virtually the same as Mary is portrayed holding it in the Commodilla Catacomb painting.54 This ivory sculptor also carved a panel of the Miracle of the Loaves and Fishes, which portrays two men flanking Jesus with each using the fringed cloth to hold a plate laden with bread or fish.55 The men’s use of their cloth appears similar to how the Widow Turtura uses hers. Ivan Foletti suggests that depictions of Mary with liturgical authority in churches may have served both as a model and as a guarantor for women clergy.56 Indeed, not only Turtura, but also other women, were portrayed with the cloth insignia in the sixth century. For example, in a mosaic dated 550 in the holy of holies in San Vitale Basilica in Ravenna, two women standing with Empress Theodora were depicted with the long fringed cloth hanging from their girdles, while a third woman holds it. Beckwith, Early Christian and Byzantine Art, 127, fig. 104; for an excellent photo of the fresco, see Matteo Braconi, “L’arcosolio di Cerula nelle catacombe di San Gennaro a Napoli: Prime intuizioni e recenti scoperte,” Campania Sacra: Rivista di Storia Sociale e Religiosa del Mezzogiorno 46–47 (2015–2016): 129–146, esp. fig. 14. 54 Wolfgang Fritz Volbach, Early Christian Art, trans. Christopher Ligota (New York: Harry N. Abrams, Inc., 1962), 40, figs. 226, 228 and 229. 55 Volbach, Early Christian Art, fig. 233. 56 Ivan Foletti, “Des femmes à l’autel? Jamais! Les diaconesses (veuves et prêtresses) et l’iconographie de la Théotokos,” in Féminité et masculinité altérées: transgression et inversion des genres au Moyen Age, Micrologus’ Library 77, ed. Eva Pibiri and Fanny Abbott (Florence: SISMEL Edizioni del Galluzzo, 2017), 5192, esp. 90-91. For texts and art that depicted women as priests and bishops during this era, see Kateusz, Mary and Early Christian Women, 151-82. 53

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Fig. 5. Mary (center) and the Widow Turtura (left), both with the cloth. Commodilla Catacomb, Rome.

For those who might argue that in the hand of a woman the cloth must have had a lay meaning, Lidov says: “Let me remind those who are convinced of the lay provenance of the handkerchief that Theodora with her retinue, as well as Justinian, are presented in San Vitale in a liturgical procession in the sanctuary, both holding liturgical vessels – the Chalice and Paten.”57 In another example, in the 500s the sculptor of an ivory pyx carved five women in a procession to the altar in what is usually thought to be the Anastasis, or Church of the Resurrection, in Jerusalem. Lidov, “Priesthood of the Virgin Mary,” 17, fig. 18. Also see Kateusz, Mary and Early Christian Women, 97-98. 57

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Two of the women flank the altar while holding censers and the other three approach the altar with raised arms. All five have the cloth hanging from their girdle.58 Later art from both East and West preserves male bishops holding the cloth in the same way that Mary was seen holding it earlier.59 A famous example is in an eleventh-century wall painting in Old Saint Clement’s Basilica in Rome, which portrays Pope Clement performing the Eucharist at an altar table laden with chalice and paten while similarly holding the white fringed cloth in his left hand (fig. 6).60 Old Saint Clement’s is near the Church of Santa Maria in Domnica in Rome and it seems probable that this accomplished painter was familiar with its apse mosaic as well as some of the even older portraits in Rome of Mary holding the cloth. Lidov writes, “In connection with the theme of the Priesthood of the Virgin the white handkerchief becomes the most important Eucharistic symbol and a key to the liturgical reading of any image of the Virgin. At the same time, it was not an illustration or a direct reference to a specific rite (for instance, the ancient practice of receiving communion in the hands). It belongs to that layer of Byzantine iconographic motifs which did not preserve specific information and were not semantically fixed. As with many images in homiletics and hymnography, it did not express doctrinal ideas or strictly articulated knowledge but introduced a symbolic and metaphoric context, building a series of associations for a deeper and meditative perception of the image.”61 I argue here that in fact the older narratives about Mary, both gospel and extracanonical, underlie the iconography and that these motifs therefore were not solely symbolic and metaphorical. Iconography is conservative, that is to say, it changes slowly and often preserves much older ideas, ideas that in some cases have been lost from view. When a woman, whether Mary or another woman, is seen with the same fringed white cloth in the same type of context that apostles, bishops, or patriarchs were seen with it either at the same time or later, it becomes difficult to logically interpret the cloth in Mary’s hand differently than the cloth seen in a male Kateusz, Mary and Early Christian Women, 97-99, figs. 2.8a and b, and 4.18. Lidov, “Priesthood of the Virgin Mary,” 17-20, figs. 19 and 20. 60 Lidov, “Priesthood of the Virgin Mary,” 17, fig. 19; and Kateusz, Mary and Early Christian Women, 81, fig. 4.8. 61 Lidov, «Priesthood of the Virgin,» 22. 58 59

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officiant’s hand. To do so would be to anachronistically project backwards in time our modern false imagination about Mary.

Fig. 6. Pope Clement performing the Eucharist. 11th-c. wall painting, Old Saint Clement’s Basilica, Rome.

The episcopal pallium Consistent with Mary’s portrayal as the liturgical leader of the male apostles in the Gospel of Bartholomew and the Six Books Dormition narrative—where she was essentially portrayed as a bishop of bishops— Mary was sometimes portrayed wearing the episcopal pallium, a long white strip of cloth with a cross or crosses on it that bishops wore only while performing the Eucharist. For example, Pope Clement in the Old Saint Clement’s Basilica wall painting was not only portrayed performing 44

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the Eucharist while holding the Eucharistic cloth in his left hand, he also was depicted wearing a long episcopal pallium hanging down the middle of his coat. Around the year 550, in the altar apse mosaics of the Euphrasiana Basilica in Poreč, Croatia, Mary was portrayed twice wearing this long white strip of cloth with a cross seen hanging just below her brown mantle.

Fig. 7. Apse mosaic above the altar, Euphrasiana Basilica, ca. 550, Poreč – Croatia.

Both she and Elizabeth, John the Baptist’s mother, are portrayed wearing it in a mosaic of the Visitation on the wall of the holies of holies, and Mary is also seen wearing it while holding her son in the apse above the altar (figs. 7, 7A).62 These mosaics date to the same decade as the first church art that portrayed male bishops wearing the pallium in Ravenna, Kateusz, Mary and Early Christian Women, 82-85, figs. 4.9 and 4.10; and Lidov, “Priesthood of the Virgin Mary,” 9-10, fig. 2. 62

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all installed in basilicas which were, like the Euphrasiana Basilica, consecrated during the reign of Emperor Justinian.63

Fig. 7A. Mary with episcopal pallium Euphrasiana Basilica, ca. 550, Poreč, Croatia.

Mary with Eucharistic insignia must be contextualized with the popular narratives that portrayed her in the holy of holies, or described her leading the male apostles in prayer—the very same apostles through whom male bishops claimed their authority. One still might argue that this white band with a cross cannot be an episcopal pallium because women—Mary and Elizabeth—are wearing it. Or one might argue the same thing because the women are seen wearing it centered beneath their For the dating of these basilicas and their mosaics, see Ann Terry and Henry Maguire, Dynamic Splendor: The Wall Mosaics in the Cathedral of Eufrasius in Poreč, 2 vols. (University Park, PA, 2007), 1:68-69. 63

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coat whereas the male bishops seen in the Ravenna mosaics are seen with it hanging over their left shoulder.64

Fig. 8. Mary as Bishop of bishops. Palestinian or Coptic ivory icon dated 720-970 Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City.

Yet Pope Clement is later depicted wearing his papal pallium down the center of his coat, and even earlier other male bishops are depicted wearing it centered beneath their coats. For example, the Palestinian or Coptic sculptor of an ivory icon dated 720 to 970 portrays Mary, as well Not all scholars agree that this long white band with a cross when on a woman represents priestly or episcopal insignia; for such an argument see Terry, Dynamic Splendor, 2: 103–104. Yet these scholars ignore that Vatican archaeologist Josef Wilpert first illustrated and then influentially argued that the origins of the episcopal pallium—il pallio sacro—was a band worn by priestesses of Isis, and that in Christian art this insignia was first seen on a woman, not a man; see Josef Wilpert, Un capitolo di storia del vestiario: tre studii sul vestiario dei tempi posconstaniniani. Rome, 1898. Father Braun at length defensively argued against Wilpert’s position in Liturgische Gewandung, esp. 655–64, but never offered an alternative to Wilpert’s proposed origin for il pallio sacro except to dogmatically ask on pages 662–63: Why not assume that it was always the liturgical badge of the pope? 64

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as the men flanking her, each wearing what appears to be an omophorion65—the equivalent of the pallium in the East—with many crosses down the front (fig. 8).

Fig. 9. Mary with episcopal insignia Apse mosaic in the Cathedral of Ravenna, 1112 Archbishop’s Museum, Ravenna.

Notably, the men’s long strip hangs down from the bottom of their coats in almost exactly the same style that Mary and Elizabeth’s pallia hang below their coats in the Euphrasiana Basilica apse mosaics. Each man holds a large book with a cross on it, a gospel book, further signifying that he is a bishop. Mary with her short chasuble-like vestment Miner, Dorothy Eugenia and Marvin Chauncey Ross, Early Christian and Byzantine Art: An Exhibition Held at the Baltimore Museum of Fine Art, April 25 to June 22, 1947 (Baltimore: Trustees of the Walters Art Gallery, 1947), 50, pl. 21; Joseph Breck, “Two Early Christian Ivories of the Ascension,” The Metropolitan Museum of Art Bulletin 14:11 (Nov., 1919): 242–44. 65

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and long multi-cross pallium, her arms raised in the liturgical gesture of the Eucharistic priest and flanked by these male bishops, is again portrayed as bishop of bishops—and her son is seen directly above her as if authorizing her. In another example, a mosaic installed in the altar apse of the Cathedral of Ravenna in 1112, but today in the Archbishop’s Museum in Ravenna, portrays Mary wearing a pallium or omophorion with many crosses seemingly hanging off her left shoulder (fig. 9). In addition, she wears a Eucharistic cloth tucked in her girdle, a cloth that Rafka Youssef Nasr identifies as the epitrachelion, a type of stole “without which no celebration can be held.”66 Lidov concludes, “An idea of the priesthood of the Virgin is quite clearly represented in the Ravenna mosaic.”67 Censorship of depictions of Mary as a liturgical leader With such a strong presence of early Christian art and texts around the Mediterranean that portrayed Mary as a high priest or bishop, why is this phenomenon so little understood today? Despite that portrayals of Mary in liturgical garb in art continued into the early modern era, especially in the West, I believe a simple answer suffices to explain our current lack of understanding about this motif. Censorship dramatically obscured the ancient traditions about Mary as a liturgical leader. Although censorship might seem to be a harsh word to use with respect to the way older depictions of Mary with liturgical authority were obscured, two examples, one literary and one iconographic, demonstrate that censorship, not serendipity, best explains what took place both in the ancient world and also in our modern era. Scribal redaction of Mary as a liturgical leader in the Six Books Dormition narrative The Six Books scene of Mary leading the male apostles is found in the text of the fifth-century palimpsest, yet later scribes often changed this scene of Mary raising her arms to pray, praising God, and the men prostrating themselves. These later scribes edited the text in different ways, but each reduced the impression of Mary’s liturgical authority over 66 67

Nasr, “Priestly Ornaments,” 122. Lidov, “Priesthood of the Virgin Mary,” 9. 49

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the men.68 For example, a sixth-century Syriac scribe behind the nextoldest published Dormition manuscript preserved that Mary raised her arms—but excised that the men prostrated themselves, a change also found in a Greek Dormition homily attributed to John the Theologian.69 Conversely, the scribe behind a medieval manuscript with an Ethiopic translation preserved that the men prostrated themselves after Mary prayed—but omitted that Mary raised her arms.70 Although not all did, many later scribes similarly omitted Mary raising her arms. For example, none of the Dormition homilies by Andrew of Crete, John of Damascus, Theoteknos of Livias, Germanus of Constantinople, Modestus of Jerusalem, or Theodore the Studite preserve that Mary raised her arms.71 Some preserved that Mary raised her arms—but only when no one else was present. One attributed to Theodosius of Alexandria said Mary told the men to leave—and then she raised her arms to pray.72 Another, attributed to John of Thessalonica, said Mary left the apostles and only when all alone raised her arms to pray.73 Yet another scribe replaced Mary with Peter as the prayer leader, specified that Mary herself left the men to pray, and still omitted that she raised her arms.74 For discussion of this censorship in the context of 1 Timothy, see Kateusz, Mary and Early Christian Women, 67-70. 69 Wright, “Departure of My Lady Mary,” 140; “The Book of John Concerning the Falling Asleep of Mary,” ANF 8:587-91, 589. 70 Ethiopic Six Books 33 (Shoemaker, Ancient Traditions, 383). 71 See their homilies in Brian E. Daley, On the Dormition of Mary: Early Patristic Homilies (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1998), 71-257. 72 Theodosius of Alexandria, Discourse on the Falling Asleep of Mary 3.9 (Forbes Robinson, trans., Coptic Apocryphal Gospels: Texts and Studies, Contributions to Biblical and Patristic Literature 4, Coptic Apocryphal Gospels 2 [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1896], 90-127, 107-13, esp. 101). 73 John of Thessalonica, On the Dormition 12 (Brian E. Daley, trans., “The Dormition of Our Lady, The Mother of God and Ever-Virgin Mary by John, Archbishop of Thessalonica,” in On the Dormition of Mary, 48–70, 62). 74 St. John the Theologian, Dormition of the All-Holy Theotokos 24, 30-32 (Shoemaker, Ancient Traditions, 361, 363–64). Shoemaker argues that this text represents the oldest Dormition narrative, and indeed it does preserve the presence of a Great Angel as Jesus, but the manuscript itself is medieval, and I argue that all of the Dormition text traditions likely originated in one source text in Ally Kateusz, “Dormition Urtext? Earliest Dormition Wall Painting Combines the Great Angel and Women with Censers,” in Maria, Mariamne, 68

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Redactions and excisions such as these dramatically changed the Dormition narrative, so much so that the tradition that was behind the iconography of Mary portrayed as a liturgical leader of the male apostles was lost. The scene itself could no longer be traced to its origins. For this reason, despite the prominence of Mary and Paul in the scene, art historians came to suppose that the iconography must somehow represent a very popular, albeit very peculiar, interpretation of the canonical scene of the ascension of Jesus. It was only when the oldest surviving layer of the Dormition narrative was investigated that the source of the iconography came to light.75 Mosaic of Mary as bishop of bishops in the Lateran Baptistery A mosaic dated around 650 illustrates how the image of Mary as a liturgical leader is still censored in the city of Rome. This mosaic of Mary is in the altar apse of the Chapel of San Venantius, the largest chapel inside the Lateran Baptistery in Rome.76 Pope John IV (r. 640–642) began the mosaic and Pope Theodore I (642–649) completed it. These two popes approved a mosaic design that placed Mary above the altar, her arms raised, and wearing an episcopal pallium with a red cross—the same red cross on a white pallium that is still the privilege of the bishop of Rome, that is, the pope. In 1916 the Vatican prohibited images of Mary wearing liturgical vestments and perhaps this prohibition in part explains why today the red tesserae of the cross on Mary’s pallium are almost entirely missing. In any case, the red tesserae of this cross apparently were still present at the end of the nineteenth century because Giovanni Battista de Rossi painted a red cross on Mary’s pallium in his illustration of the mosaic, which he published in 1899 (fig. 10).77

Miriam: Rediscovering the Marys, ed. Mary Ann Beavis and Ally Kateusz (New York: Bloomsbury, 2020), 185-202. 75 Kateusz, “Ascension of Jesus,” 292-95. 76 Gillian Mackie, “The San Venanzio Chapel in Rome and the Martyr Shrine Sequence,” Revue d’Art Canadienne/Canadian Art Review 23 (1996): 1–13, 4. 77 Giovanni Battista de Rossi, Musaici cristiani e saggi dei pavimenti delle chiese di Roma anteriori al secolo XV. Tavole cromo-lithografiche con cenni storici e critici (Rome: Spithöver di G Haass, 1899), plate “Abside dell’oratorio di S. Venanzio.” 51

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Fig. 10. Red cross on pallium, 1899, Painting by de Rossi.

Fig. 11. Mary, bishop of bishops, Altar apse mosaic, ca 650, Saint Venantius Chapel, Lateran Baptistery, Rome. 52

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As in other scenes in text and art, Mary is flanked by Peter and Paul in this mosaic, and also by other male saints and bishops wearing the episcopal pallium with a black cross (fig. 11). Her central position, directly beneath Christ, signified that during the rite she was the principal mediator with the divine. Mary M. Schaefer called this image of Mary “Maria archiepiscopa.”78 Mary’s raised arms, episcopal pallium with a red cross, and the subordinate position of the important men who flank her signified her Eucharistic privilege at the altar below. The laity in the nave saw her in the center behind the altar, her arms raised as the chief officiant, the bishop of bishops.

Fig. 12. Baroque altarpiece conceals the ancient mosaic of Mary San Venantius Chapel, Lateran Baptistery, Rome.

Today, in what appears to be the most brazen example of visual censorship in Rome, a massive baroque altarpiece hides the figure of Mary (fig. 12). This huge altarpiece features a painting of a rather demure looking mother Mary holding her son. When seated in the nave, one can see Jesus above the altarpiece and men on either side of it, but it 78

Schaefer, Women in Pastoral Office, 230, fig. 4.9. 53

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completely conceals the mosaic of Mary. The first time I came to Rome looking for this mosaic of Mary, I could not find it, despite returning on multiple days and searching throughout the baptistery for it. Only when I returned on a later trip did I see the image of Christ above the altarpiece and realize that the mosaic of Mary was behind it. In recent years lights have been installed and one Euro will now light up the apse. The altarpiece, however, still hides the ancient image of Mary, bishop of bishops. Conclusion During the early Christian era Mary appears to have provided a very different role model for women than she does today. Today, she is commonly represented as a demure virgin mother, just as seen in the painting of her on the baroque altarpiece in the Lateran Baptistery. The authors of the canonical gospels, however, portrayed her as the New Abraham, and they were the first to suggest her extraordinary authority as a cultic leader like Abraham. The authors of the Protevangelium of James, the Gospel of Bartholomew, and the Six Books Dormition narrative provided explicit markers signifying that Mary was a high priest—she entered the holy of holies, she stood at the Temple altar, she set out the censer of incense to God, and she raised her arms to praise God, to bless people, and to lead the male apostles in prayer. Artists portrayed Mary in accordance with these narratives, armsraised and leading the male apostles. Consistent with this, as soon as priestly and episcopal insignia such as the Eucharistic cloth and the episcopal pallium came into use, artists depicted Mary with them, and she is seen with these insignia as soon, or sooner, than any man. Scribes, however, redacted markers of Mary’s liturgical authority and later artists followed these redacted narratives. As a result, Mary’s arms-raised posture is seldom seen in the West today. The ancient altar apse mosaic in the Lateran Baptistery is a case in point because it remains hidden, despite that two mid-seventh century popes authorized this liturgical portrait of Mary, and despite that for centuries the laity in this famous baptistery saw her wearing the papal pallium with its red cross, her arms raised above the altar as the officiant of the Eucharist, the principal mediator for her son above. As consequence of censorship, both ancient and modern, today these early memories of Mary have nearly disappeared from view. Recent years, 54

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however, have seen a remarkable flurry of studies associated with these little known traditions about Mary, especially regarding her depiction with liturgical authority in art. Almost certainly future research will bring forth even more discoveries regarding the ways that early Christians remembered Mary’s complex gendered identity. References Primary sources A. Protevangelium of James Strycker, Émile de. La forme la plus ancienne du Protévangile de Jacques: Recherches sur le papyrus Bodmer 5. Brussels: Société des Bollandistes, 1961. B. Dormition narratives Daley, Brian E., trans. “The Dormition of Our Lady, The Mother of God and Ever-Virgin Mary by John, Archbishop of Thessalonica.” Pages in On the Dormition of Mary: Early Patristic Homilies, trans. Brian E. Daley, 48–70. Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1998. ———. On the Dormition of Mary: Early Patristic Homilies. Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1998. Robinson, Forbes, trans. “Discourse on the Falling Asleep of Mary by Theodosius of Alexandria.” In Coptic Apocryphal Gospels: Texts and Studies, Contributions to Biblical and Patristic Literature 4, Coptic Apocryphal Gospels 2, trans. Forbes Robinson, 90–127 and 107–13. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1896. Shoemaker, Stephen J. Ancient Traditions of the Virgin Mary’s Dormition and Assumption. Oxford Early Christian Studies. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002. Smith Lewis, Agnes. “Transitus Mariae.” In Apocrypha Syriaca: The Protevangelium Jacobi and Transitus Mariae, Studia Sinaitica 11, ed. Agnes Smith Lewis, 12–69. London: C. J. Clay, 1902. Wright, William. “The History of the Virgin Mary, the Holy Mother of God.” In Contributions to the Apocryphal Literature of the New Testament: Collected and Edited from Syriac Manuscripts in the British Museum, ed. William Wright, 18–24. London: Williams and Norgate, 1865. C. Gospel (Questions) of Bartholomew Schneemelcher, Wilhelm, ed. “Gospel of Bartholomew.” In New Testament Apocrypha, Volumes 1 and 2, trans. R. McL. Wilson, rev. edition, 537–53. Cambridge: James Clark, 1991, 1992. 55

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Secondary literature Bagatti, Bellarmino, Michele Piccirillo, and Alberto Prodromo. New Discoveries at the Tomb of the Virgin Mary in Gethsemane. Jerusalem: Franciscan Printing Press, 1975. Bagatti, Bellarmino. “La verginità di Maria negli apocrifi del II–III secolo.” Marianum 33 (1971): 281–92. Bauckham, Richard. The Fate of the Dead: Studies on Jewish and Christian Apocalypses. Leiden: Brill, 1998. Beckwith, John. Early Christian and Byzantine Art. Second edition. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1993. Braconi, Matteo. “L’arcosolio di Cerula nelle catacombe di San Gennaro a Napoli: Prime intuizioni e recenti scoperte.” Campania Sacra: Rivista di Storia Sociale e Religiosa del Mezzogiorno 46–47 (2015–2016): 129–146, and figs. 1– 21a-b. Braun, Joseph. Die liturgische Gewandung im Occident und Orient: nach Ursprung und Entwicklung, Verwendung und Symbolik. Freiburg, 1907. _____. “Maniple.” In The Catholic Encyclopedia: An International Work of Reference on the Constitution, Doctrine, Discipline, and History of the Catholic Church, vol. 9, ed. Charles G. Herbermann, Edward A. Pace, Condé Bénoist Pallen, Thomas J. Shahan, John J. Wynne, and Andrew Alphonsus MacErlean, 601–602. New York: Encyclopedia, 1910. Cartlidge, David R. and J. Keith Elliott. Art and the Christian Apocrypha. New York: Routledge, 2001. Clédat, Jean. Le monastère et la nécropole de Baouȋt, Mèmoires publiés par les membres de l’Institut français d’archéologie orientale de Caire, vol. 12. Cairo: L’Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale, 1904. Cohen, Shaye D. The Beginnings of Jewishness: Boundaries, Varieties, Uncertainties. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1999. Cohick, Lynn H. Christian Women in the Patristic World: Their Influence, Authority, and Legacy in the Second through Fifth Centuries. Baker Academic, 2017. _____. Women in the World of the Earliest Christians: Illuminating Ancient Ways of Life. Baker Academic, 2009. Cormack, Robin S. “The Mother of God in Apse Mosaics.” In Mother of God: Representations of the Virgin in Byzantine Art, ed. Maria Vassilaki, 91–105. Milan: Skira editore, 2000. _____. “The Mother of God in the Mosaics of Hagia Sophia at Constantinople.” In Mother of God: Representations of the Virgin in Byzantine Art, ed. Maria Vassilaki, 107–23. Milan: Skira editore, 2000. Cothenet, Édouard. “Traditions bibliques et apocalyptiques dans les récits anciens de la Dormition.” In Marie dans les récits apocryphes chrétiens, ed.Édouard Cothenet et al, 155–75. Paris: Médiaspaul, 2004. 56

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Elliott, J. K. The Apocryphal New Testament: A Collection of Apocryphal Christian Literature in an English Translation based on M. R. James. Edited by J. K. Elliott. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1993. Fixot, Michel. La Crypte de Saint-Maximin La-Sainte-Baume: Basilique Sainte-Marie Madeleine. Aix-en-Provence: Edisud, 2001. Foletti, Ivan. “Des femmes à l’autel? Jamais! Les diaconesses (veuves et prêtresses) et l’iconographie de la Théotokos.” In Féminité et masculinité altérées: transgression et inversion des genres au Moyen Age, Micrologus’ Library 77, ed. Eva Pibiri and Fanny Abbott, 51–92. Florence: SISMEL Edizioni del Galluzzo, 2017. Förster, Hans. Transitus Mariae: Beiträge zur koptischen Überlieferung mit einer Edition von P. Vindob. K 7589, Cambridge Add 1876 8 und Paris BN Copte 12917 ff. 28 und 29. Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2006. Grabar, André. Christian Iconography: A Study of its Origins. Bollingen Series 35: The A.W. Mellon Lectures in the Fine Arts 10. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1980. Grisar, Hartmann. Die römische Kapelle Sancta Santorum und ihr Schatz: Meine Entdeckungen und Studien in der Palastkapelle der mittelalterlichen Päpste. Rome: Laterano, 1908. Haines-Eitzen, Kim. The Gendered Palimpsest: Women, Writing, and Representation in Early Christianity. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012. Horner, Tim. “Jewish Aspects of the Protevangelium of James.” Journal of Early Christian Studies 12, no. 3 (2004): 313–35. Jensen, Robin. Face to Face: Portraits of the Divine in Early Christianity. Minneapolis: Fortress, 2005. _____. Understanding Early Christian Art. New York: Routledge, 2000. Kaestli, Jean-Daniel, trans. L’évangile de Barthélemy d’après deus écrits apocryphes. Belgium: Brepols, 1993. Kateusz, Ally. “Ascension of Christ or Ascension of Mary?: Reconsidering a Popular Early Iconography.” Journal of Early Christian Studies 23, no. 2 (Summer 2015): 273–303. _____. “Collyridian Déjà Vu: The Trajectory of Redaction of the Markers of Mary’s Liturgical Leadership.” Journal of Feminist Studies in Religion 29, no. 2 (Fall 2013): 75–92. _____. “Dormition Urtext? Earliest Dormition Wall Painting Combines the Great Angel and Women with Censers.” In Maria, Mariamne, Miriam: Rediscovering the Maries, ed. Mary Ann Beavis and Ally Kateusz, 185–202. New York: Bloomsbury, 2020. _____. Mary and Early Christian Women: Hidden Leadership (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2019), 67–99. Kearns, Cleo McNelly. The Virgin Mary, Monotheism, and Sacrifice. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008. 57

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Le Blant, Edmond. Les sarcophages chrétiens de la Gaule. Paris: Imprimerie Nationale, 1986. Lidov, Alexei. “The Priesthood of the Virgin Mary as an Image-Paradigm of Christian Visual Culture.” IKON 10 (2017): 9–26. Lidova, Maria. “XAIRE MARIA: Annunciation Imagery in the Making.” IKON 10 (2017): 45–62. Lowden, John. Early Christian and Byzantine Art. London: Phaidon, 2003. Lowe, Malcolm. “ΙΟΥΔΑΙΟΙ of the Apocrypha: A Fresh Approach to the Gospels of James, Pseudo-Thomas, Peter and Nicodemus.” Novum Testamentum 23, no. 1 (1981): 56–90. Lowrie, Walter. Christian Art and Architecture: Being a Handbook to the Monuments of the Early Church. New York: Macmillan, 1901. Mackie, Gillian. “The San Venanzio Chapel in Rome and the Martyr Shrine Sequence.” Revue d’Art Canadienne/Canadian Art Review 23 (1996): 1–13. Maguire, Richard. “A Fertile Crescent? Some Sources for the Orant Virgin in Livadia in Cyprus.” In PoCa (Postgraduate Cypriot Archaeology) 2012, ed. Hartmut Matthäus, Bärbel Morstadt, and Christian Vonhoff, 434–53. Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Press, 2015. Manns, Frédéric. “La mort de Marie dans le texte de la Dormition de Marie.” Augustinianum 19, no. 3 (1979): 507–15. Miller, Patricia Cox. Corporeal Imagination: Signifying the Holy in Late Ancient Christianity. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2016. Milliner, Matthew. “Virgin and the Passion: Development, Dissemination, and Afterlife of a Byzantine Icon Type.” Dissertation, Princeton University, 2011. Miner, Dorothy Eugenia and Marvin Chauncey Ross. Early Christian and Byzantine Art: An Exhibition Held at the Baltimore Museum of Fine Art, April 25 to June 22, 1947. Baltimore: Trustees of the Walters Art Gallery, 1947. Mouriki, Doula. The Mosaics of Nea Moni on Chios, 2 vols. Translated by Richard Burgi. Athens: Commercial Bank of Greece, 1985. Nasr, Rafka Youssef. “Priestly Ornaments and the Priesthood of the Mother of God.” Chronos 40 (2019): 119–34. Norelli, Enrico. “La letteratura apocrifa sul transito di Maria e il problema delle sue origini.” In Il dogma dell’assunzione di Maria: problemi attuali e tentativi di ricomprensione, ed. Ermanno M. Toniolo, 121–65. Rome: Edizioni Marianum, 2010. Nutzman, Megan. “Mary in the Protevangelium of James: A Jewish Woman in the Temple?” Greek, Roman, and Byzantine Studies 53 (2013): 551–78. Peppard, Michael. The World’s Oldest Church: Bible, Art, and Ritual at DuraEuropos, Syria. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2016. Romussi, Carlo. Milano ne’suoi monumenti, vol. 1. Milan: Societá Editrice Sonzogno, 1912.

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Rossi, Giovanni Battista de. Musaici cristiani e saggi dei pavimenti delle chiese di Roma anteriori al secolo XV. Tavole cromo-lithografiche con cenni storici e critici. Rome: Spithöver di G Haass, 1899. Schaefer, Mary M. Women in Pastoral Office: The Story of Santa Prassede, Rome (New York: Oxford University Press, 2013), 229–36. Schüssler Fiorenza, Elisabeth. Jesus: Miriam’s Child, Sophia’s Prophet: Critical Issues in Feminist Christology. New York: Continuum: 1994. Shoemaker, Stephen. “Mary the Apostle: A New Dormition Fragment in Coptic and Its Place in the History of Marian Literature.” In Bibel, Byzanz und Christlicher Orient: Festschrift für Stephen Gerö. Edited by Dmitrij F. Bumazhnov, Emmanouela Grypeou, Timothy B. Sailors, and Alexander Toepel, 203–29. Leuven: Peeters, 2011. Smid, H. R. Protevangelium Jacobi: A Commentary. ANT 1. Assen: van Gorcum, 1965. Steigerwald, Gerhard. Die frühchristlichen Mosaiken des Triumphbogens von S. Maria Maggiore in Rom. Berlin: Schnell and Steiner, 2016. Terry, Ann and Henry Maguire. Dynamic Splendor: The Wall Mosaics in the Cathedral of Eufrasius in Poreč, 2 vols. University Park, PA, 2007. Van Esbroeck, Michel-Jean. “Les textes littéraires sur l’Assomption avant le Xe siècle.” In Les actes apocryphes des apôtres, Publications de la faculté de théologie de l’Université de Genève 4, ed. François Bovon, 265–85. Geneva: Labor et Fides, 1981. Volbach, Wolfgang Fritz. Early Christian Art. Translated by Christopher Ligota. New York: Harry N. Abrams, Inc., 1962. Vuong, Lily C. “Let Us Bring Her Up to the Temple of the Lord.” In Infancy Gospels: Stories and Identities, ed. Claire Clivas, Andreas Dettwiler, Luc Devillers and Enrico Norelli, 418–32. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011. Wilpert, Josef. Un capitolo di storia del vestiario: tre studii sul vestiario dei tempi posconstaniniani. Rome, 1898. _____. Die römischen Mosaiken und Malereien der kirchlichen Bauten vom IV. bis XIII. Jahrhundert, 4 vols. Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder, 1916. Zervos, George T. “Dating the Protevangelium of James: The Justin Martyr Connection.” In Society of Biblical Literature 1994 Seminar Papers, ed. Eugene H. Lovering, Jr., 415–34. Atlanta: Scholars, 1994. _____. “An Early Non-Canonical Annunciation Story.” In Society of Biblical Literature 1997 Seminar Papers, 664–91. Evanston: American Theological Library Association, 1997.

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Visual Cherubikon: Mary as Priest at Lagoudera in Cyprus Matthew J. Milliner Wheaton College, USA

Still relatively unknown, the feminine face of Eastern Christianity remains open to further exploration. (Elizabeth Behr-Sigel)

Fig. 1. Mary with a Eucharistic cloth indicating priesthood in the apse in the first layer of painting (pre-1192) at the Virgin of the Vetches Church at Lagoudera, Cyprus. Dumbarton Oaks.

Visual Cherubikon: Mary as Priest at Lagoudera in Cyprus

More than a tissue The cloth held in Mary’s right hand in the original fresco layer at the Virgin of the Vetches church at Lagoudera in Cyprus (Fig. 1) is not a tea towel for performing domestic chores. Nor is it an innocuous handkerchief to dry tears or stop a runny nose.1 The cloth instead shows Mary to be a bishop.2 Known in the East as an encheirion (literally a “handy”), and later as an epigonation, this cloth is as “a sign of one’s participation in the liturgy… a link with the highest sacraments.”3 This Eucharistic cloth is attested early in Christian art, possibly offering early evidence for female liturgical participation.4 Eventually it evolved into a more elaborate embroidered diamond cloth still worn by bishops today.5 Regarding a mosaic of Mary with the same cloth in the apse of St Sophia of Kiev, Alexei Lidov cites one scholar who writes, “on [Mary’s] belt there is a lention with which she wipes away so many tears.” Alexei Lidov, “The Priesthood of the Virgin Mary as an Image-Paradigm of Christian Culture,” IKON (2017), 17. 2 Hilda Graef, a longstanding authority on Mariology of the last century, suggests that some references to Mary can be translated as “bishop” in Byzantine culture. Hilda Graef, Mary: A History of Doctrine and Devotion (South Bend, IN: Ave Maria Press, 2009), 264. For more recent iconography of Mary as bishop in Russian culture, see Amy Singleton Adams and Vera Shevzov (eds.), Framing Mary: The Mother of God in Modern, Revolutionary, and Post-Soviet Russian Culture (DeKalb, IL: Northern Illinois University Press, 2018). 3 Lidov, “The Priesthood of the Virgin Mary,” 17. Lidov discusses the motif in Latin Christianity as well, where it was known as a manipula and appears in Roman monuments such as Santa Sabina and San Clemente (ibid., 19). For more extensive treatment of this motif, see chapter four of Ally Kateusz, Mary and Early Christian Women: Hidden Leadership (Cham, Switzerland: Palgrave MacMillan, 2019). 4 See the women serving at the altar, complete with the encheirion, in the ivory pyx at the Metropolitan Museum of art dating to the 500s. Because so few liturgical documents survive from the first seven centuries, art plays an essential role in understanding what was happening in early Christian liturgy. Ally Kateusz, Mary and Early Christian Women, 39-41. For clarity’s sake I refer to it, following Kateusz, as the Eucharistic cloth. The motif is explored further in Rafca Youssef Nasr, “Priestly Ornaments and the Priesthood of the Mother of God,’ Chronos, Revue d’Histoire de l’Université de Balamand, Numéro 40, 2019. 5 Focusing on the East, Warren Woodfin claims “the first representations of the encheirion are found in the manuscript miniatures of the Menologion of Basil II (979-984), and the item thereafter appears frequently in art until the fourteenth 1

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The range of monuments depicting Mary with the Eucharistic cloth, moreover, reads like a roll call of the most important churches in the Byzantine cultural sphere, including all three of the major Hagia Sophia churches (in Constantinople, Thessaloniki and Kiev), Daphni Monastery in Greece, Nea Moni in Chios, the Byzantine-inspired Cathedral of Santa Maria Assunta in Torcello outside of Venice, as well as at the Virgin of the Vetches (Panaghia tou Arakos) Church in Cyprus. But if each of these major monuments testify to Mary’s “participation… in the Eucharistic sacrifice and [her] priesthood,”6 why has the phenomenon of Mary as priest only recently been widely discussed?7 Although a considerable number of explicit texts from mainstream sources connect the Virgin with priesthood,8 some Christian scholars who unfurl this evidence demur from receiving it at face value.9 century.” Warren T. Woodfin, The Embodied Icon Liturgical Vestments and Sacramental Power in Byzantium (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012), 17. 6 Lidov, “The Priesthood of the Virgin Mary,” 20. 7 Recent discussion include Ally Kateusz, Mary and Early Christian Women: Hidden Leadership and Karen O’Donnell, “The Flesh of Mary and the Body of Christ: Typological and Artistic Depictions of the Marian Priest,” in Elena V. Shabliy, ed., Representations of the Blessed Virgin Mary in World Literature and Art (New York, Lexington Books, 2017); Maria Evangelatou, “Krater of Nectar and Altar of the Bread of Life,” in Thomas Arentzen and Mary Cunningham (eds.), The Reception of the Mother of God in Byzantium: Marian Narratives in Texts and Images, (Cambridge 2019), 77-119. Finally, we have here a rich exploration of how “the Theotokos was constantly presented as provider of the Eucharist in liturgical texts that were used in Byzantine churches throughout the Empire” (95). 8 The classic collection of references to Mary as priest remains René Laurentin, Maria, Ecclesia, sacerdotium: Essai sur le développement d’une Idée Religieuse (Paris: Nouvelles Éditions Latines, 1952). 9 Accordingly, Laurentin wrote an additional study to contain the evidence he uncovered under the rubric of a soft lay priesthood sponsored by Mary versus a strong, male, clerical priesthood sponsored by Christ: Marie, L’Eglise et Le Sacerdoce: Etude Théologique (Paris: Nouvelles Éditions Latines, 1953). Laurentin’s method may exemplify the approach to historical evidence for ordained women described by Gary Macy: “[I]f women were (and are) incapable of being ordained, then they cannot have been ordained in the past. References to the ordination of women must either be not truly Christian (i.e. heretical) or they must really mean something other than what they seem to mean.” Gary Macy, The Hidden History of Women’s Ordination: Female Clergy in the Medieval West (New York: Oxford University Press, 2008), 5. 63

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Ironically, scholars outside the Christian tradition make a similar move. Female prohibition at the altar presumably affords evidence for inherent Christian misogyny that some will not easily surrender.10 The theme of Mary’s priesthood then, it seems, simultaneously threatens the assumptions of orthodox Christian scholars and those who press “beyond orthodoxy” at once.11 The result of these twin concerns is a curious alliance. To the extent that the traditional party succeeds in quarantining evidence for Mary’s full sacerdotal function, they vindicate the feminist assumption that traditional religion is patriarchal; and conversely, to the extent that certain feminists succeeds in mitigating Mary’s Eucharistic associations, they underwrite the traditional interdiction against women in ministry that deems the Mary-as-priest motif a dismissible metaphor.12 This chapter aims to complicate this impasse by showing another place where images of Mary’s priesthood emerge, namely the Virgin of the Vetches Church in Lagoudera, where – I contend - the priestly motif is not limited to the image in the apse. Apocryphal scenes painted after the apse in the same church by an artist named Theodore Apsevdis

Nancy Jay’s extensive study on women and sacrifice insisted that women and the altar are like oil and water, a necessary proof of patriarchy that extends across cultures: Nancy Jay, Throughout Your Generations Forever: Sacrifice, Religion, and Paternity (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992), xxiii. Cleo McNelly Kearns argues that in the Christian tradition, “Mary does not act, even in the imaginary, as [a Eucharistic] agent or celebrant, nor is she depicted as elevating, blessing, or breaking the elements of bread and wine as a priest might do.” Cleo McNelly Kearns, The Virgin Mary, Monotheism and Sacrifice (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008), 275. 11 Kearn’s concluding chapter bears the title, “Beyond Orthodoxy” (293). Of course, not all feminisms veer beyond orthodoxy, as this paper’s epigraph reminds us. 12 The question as to whether or not these images testify to female participation in the Byzantine liturgy is a separate one, and is well explored by Maria Evangelatou who suggests such images may be evidence for a “growing gap between Mary’s increasing power and women’s diminishing agency,” even while they mitigated this gap as well. Maria Evangelatou, “Female Materialities at the Altar: Mary’s Priestly Motherhood and Women’s Eucharistic Experience in Late Antique and Byzantine Churches” (forthcoming). 10

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illustrate such themes as well.13 Scenes from the beginning (Presentation of Mary in the Temple), the middle (the Annunciation and Meeting),14 and end of Mary’s life (the Dormition) are inescapably embroiled in the program’s upward vector of Eucharistic offering. There is, furthermore, no need to speculate about the reason. A church council had recently mandated new visual directives for an Orthodox interpretation of the Cherubic hymn (or Cherubikon) that commences the Eucharistic portion of the liturgy. Specifically the council had in mind a phrase said by the priest during the Cherubikon that infuses it with Eucharistic meaning: “For you are the one who offers, and is offered.”15 Theodore was happy to comply with this directive; but through his visual commentary on the Apocrypha, Theodore permitted Mary to weigh in on this theological solution as well. The Protevangelium Following the Crusader invasion of Cyprus, Theodore Apsevdis was commissioned to re-paint the Virgin of the Vetches Church in 1192, but the apse referred to above – made by a previous painter – was left intact.16 For a discussion of the attribution of the fresco series to Theodore Apsevdis, see Matthew J. Milliner, The Virgin of the Passion: Development, Dissemination and Afterlife of a Byzantine Icon Type (unpublished dissertation, 2011), 69-84. 14 Maria Evangelatou also suggests that Mary’s priesthood in Byzantium visually converge especially around “her own and Christ’s presentation in the Temple… reinforce[ing] this perception of Mary as the one through whom Christ and the Eucharist were made available to his people” (Evangelatou, “Krater of Nectar and Altar of the Bread of Life,” 95). 15 The original text is: “Σὺ γὰρ εἶ ὁ προσφέρων καὶ προσφερόμενος, καὶ προσδεχόμενος καί διαδιδόμενος.” “For you are the one who offers and is offered, who receives and is distributed….” Greek Orthodox Archdiocese of Thyateia and Great Britain, The Divine Liturgy of our Father among the Saints John Chrysostom (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1995), 23. For more on the Council that met in 1156/57, see Matthew J. Milliner, “Icon as Theology: The Byzantine Virgin of Predestination,” in James Romaine and Linda Stratford (eds.), Revisioning: Critical Methods of Seeing Christianity in the History of Art (Eugene, Oregon: Cascade Books, 2013), 88. 16 David and June Winfield, The Church of the Panaghia tou Arakos at Lagoudera, Cyprus: The Paintings and Their Painterly Significance (Washington: Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection, 2003). 13

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Theodore and his assistants took great care in arranging the scene of Mary’s Presentation in the Temple on the north wall of the church (Fig. 2), directly across from Mary’s Dormition. Mary’s association with priesthood was foreshadowed, it seems, even when she was a toddler. The scene can be understood as an account of anxious parents – after debating their daughter’s preparedness – dropping her off for the first day of school. It is pulled directly from the mid-second to early-third century Protevangelium of James, or what might be understood in modern terms as a “prequel” to the Gospel of Luke. The Protevangelium filled in the details of the Virgin Mary’s life about which believers so much wanted to hear.17 Though condemned by Jerome (d. 420) and Pope Innocent I (d. 417), the document became nearly canonical in the East, providing comparatively fertile ground for Mary’s association with sacrifice.18 A feast celebrating the Presentation of Mary in the Temple appears in Jerusalem lectionaries by the eighth century,19 and the first iconography of the event surfaces in a tenth-century Berlin ivory, showing a procession with Joachim and Anna and seven virgins.20 The Menologion of Basil II, dating to the tenth century, has the same design. In this iconography, the Virgin is depicted twice – being received by Zechariah, but also seated on an elevated throne beyond him, within the sanctuary itself, as if to emphasize the fact that she resided in the Temple.

The text begins, “Birth of Mary, Revelation of James,” and could be so titled, but the text has come to be named Protevangelium (Proto-Gospel) because it precedes the narratives of Matthew and Luke. Though the text claims authorship by James, traditional stepbrother of Jesus, scholarly consensus places it in the mid-to-late second century. Of the 140 manuscripts, the earliest Protevangelium papyrus dates to the third or fourth century (Papyrus Bodmer 5). However, Clement and Origen (and possibly Justin Martyr) refer to it, meaning it must have been written by the end of the second century. Beverly Roberts Gaventa, Mary: Glimpses of the Mother of Jesus (Columbia, SC: University of South Carolina Press, 1999), 106-107. 18 Gaventa, Mary: Glimpses of the Mother of Jesus, 122. Though censured in the West, the document was still influential through poetry and art, as witnessed most famously by Giotto’s Arena Chapel. 19 Oxford Dictionary of Byzantium, Vol. III (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1991), 1715. 20 Jacqueline Lafontaine-Dosogne, Iconographie de l’enfance de la Vierge, vol. 2 (Brussels 1964), fig. 81. 17

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This long-established arrangement of the scene was inherited by Theodore Apsevdis and his assistants at Lagoudera.

Fig. 2. The Presentation of Mary in the Temple, North wall of the Virgin of the Vetches church at Lagoudera (1192). © Svetlana Tomeković.

The throne elevated upon a flight of steps is a clear allusion to the synthronon, which was placed directly behind the altar table in early Byzantine churches. It displayed the Gospel book and was the seat of the bishop or a presiding priest of some sort. Already, therefore, in early illustrations of the Protevangelium, Mary’s priestly associations are clear.21 But beyond simply depicting Mary on the bishop’s throne, Theodore made selective and surprising moves in his depiction of the Presentation, possibly born from his own close reading of the Protevangelium. In the Protevangelium, Joachim and Anna mourn their barrenness, and in a moving petition, plead to God for a child. Echoing the first chapters of Genesis, Anna complains that the birds of heaven, the beasts of the earth, the waters and the earth itself are fruitful, while she remains

21

I thank Slobodan Ćurčić for this observation. 67

Visual Cherubikon: Mary as Priest at Lagoudera in Cyprus

fruitless. An angel appears to grant her request, and Anna shows her gratitude with a promise: As the Lord my God lives, if I bear a child, whether male or female, I will bring it as a gift to the Lord my God, and it shall serve him all the days of its life.22 Interestingly enough, the child’s gender offers no barrier to Temple service.23 Joachim and Anna debate when Mary should enter the Temple. Joachim’s suggestion that two-years-old is a sufficient age is rebuffed by Anna’s suggestion that they wait until the age of three, and Joachim assents.24 In the meantime, Mary had not walked seven steps before Anna lifted her off the ground, promising “As the Lord God lives, you shall walk no more upon the earth until I bring you into the temple of the Lord,”25 a line that perhaps accounts for Theodore’s choice to have the young Mary hover in the scene at Lagoudera. Or, perhaps Theodore was referring to the moment in the Protevangelium when Mary the toddler, having been presented for Temple service, signals her assent by joyfully dancing, a clear echo of the dancing David, whose lineage – through Joseph (Matthew 1:16; Luke 1:27) – Mary also shares. Concerned, however, that his daughter might not be eager to enter Temple service, Joachim insisted that the undefiled daughters of the Hebrews join them, each with lamps burning, “in order that the child may not turn back and her heart be enticed away from the temple of the Lord.”26 Theodore Apsevdis at Lagoudera depicts these accompanying daughters, even while he suggests their hesitation by having some of them turn their heads. The author of the Protevangelium deftly adds that Mary’s parents praised and glorified almighty God “because the child did Edgar Hennecke, Wilhelm Schneemelcher, eds., R. McL. Wilson, trans., New Testament Apocrypha, Vol. I (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1963), 376. Italics indicate Scriptural references, in this case Judges 8:19; 1 Samuel 1:11; 2:11, 1:28. 23 Indeed, the entire scene echoes the barren Hannah’s cry for a child in I Samuel 1. Hannah also pleaded to God for a child and was rewarded with Samuel. Hannah, as in the Protevangelium, also debated the appropriate time to bring him to the Temple, and dropped him off just after weaning. Perhaps this makes Mary something of a second Samuel. 24 Edgar Hennecke, New Testament Apocrypha, 378. 25 Ibid., 377. Scripture reference is again Judges 8:19. 26 Ibid., 378. 22

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not turn back,” a subtle allusion to Lot’s wife who did.27 Perhaps to highlight this dynamic, Theodore made a late twist in the head of Anna.28 Mary faces the temple like flint, while her mother prevaricates.29 It may be too much to suggest that the eight-pointed star in the Temple décor doubles as Mary’s priestly epigonation, which “by the late twelfth-century had developed into a stiff square of material [the epigonation] hung by a loop from the girdle.”30 But whether or not this visual play can be proven, other priestly associations are clearer. The Protevangelium suggests that it was Zechariah, the future father of John the Baptist, who received Mary in the Temple. Theodore may be reminding us of this by depicting John the Baptist near his father below (Fig. 3). The impenetrable walls of the Temple just above John seem to evoke the grizzly Baptist’s contrasting wilderness vocation. By becoming a desertdwelling prophet, John the Baptist refused the priestly lineage of both his mother Elizabeth, who was in the priestly line of Aaron, and his father Zechariah, who was in the lesser priestly line of Abijah (Luke 1:5). It might be possible, therefore, to read the Temple-dwelling Mary of the Protevangelium as the means of granting Zechariah the priestly offspring he never had. Though Zechariah’s future son would not enter the Temple service, Mary – to whom he was related via his wife Elizabeth – took up the family business instead. Such connections emerge not only from a reading of the Protevangelium, but from Theodore’s visual choices at the Virgin of the Vetches as well. The Protevangelium then relates that “Mary was in the temple nurtured like a dove and received food from the hand of an angel.”31 Accordingly, Mary appears a second time in the same scene at Lagoudera, sitting dove-like on the roof in her more traditional Marian blue wimple and red maphorion. As if to illustrate her occupation of the sanctuary, the angel (manifesting “like the Cheshire cat,” as the Winfields memorably

Ibid., 378. Cf. Gen. 19:26. David and June Winfield, The Church of the Panaghia tou Arakos, 181-182. 29 Ibid. 30 Warren T. Woodfin, The Embodied Icon, 17. I am indebted to a reviewer of this paper for instilling caution on this point, and who made the suggestion that Mary’s connection to the eight-pointed star might allude to the womb that will commence the new creation, the eighth day. 31 Edgar Hennecke, New Testament Apocrypha, 378. 27 28

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put it32) hovers above the inscription that reads “Holy of Holies,” in which this woman centrally resides.

Fig. 3. Simeon the Priest and John the Baptist below the Temple, North wall of the Virgin of the Vetches Church at Lagoudera (1192), Dumbarton Oaks.

When viewing Theodore’s illustration of the Protevangelium, the Marian rhetoric of the ninth-century preacher George of Nicomedia is immediately understood: “Temple of God, she enters the Temple.”33 It may be historically dubious for the Protevangelium to permit a child to David and June Winfield, The Church of the Panaghia tou Arakos, 188. PG XCVII, 803, line 32. Cited in Laurentin. Maria, Ecclesia. Sacerdotium (Vol. I), 81. 32 33

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reside in the Holy of Holies.34 But what is not dubious is that illustrations of the Protevangelium like Theodore’s consistently visualized a woman occupying the domain of the high priest.

Fig. 4. East facing view at the Virgin of the Vetches Church at Lagoudera, with the Presentation of Mary in the Temple and Dormition linked by the Annunciation. Zairon, Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en Adjusted by author.

The Annunciation and Dormition The next scene in Mary’s life leaps across the arch (Fig. 4). The halfformed angel who timidly issued bread to Mary now unfurls in full splendored radiance at the moment of the Annunciation. Mary’s dignified pose here offers “a placid and somber foil to the luminous leaping archangel with his streaming wings and agitated garments.”35 The 34 35

Beverly Roberts Gaventa, Mary: Glimpses of the Mother of Jesus, 113. David and June Winfield, The Church of the Panaghia tou Arakos, 146. 71

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scene spans across the nave and mediates between the dome, filled with Christ and the prophets, and everything below. The four gospel writers, who traditionally occupy each of the four pendentives in Byzantine decoration, have been crowded into two to make room for Gabriel and the Virgin.36 But this Gospel illustration is read through the Protevangelium account, which has Mary leaving Temple service to be entrusted to Joseph. Sorry to lose this young talent so soon, Temple officials had tasked Mary and other maidens to weave the Temple veil; and this is where Theodore Apsevdis picks up the story. The drapery placed on the building conveys that the scene occurs indoors, in Joseph’s house where Mary was stitching the “pure purple and scarlet” threads of the veil.37 Hence Christ – featured by Theodore in the central medallion between Gabriel and Mary – is being woven in Mary’s womb just as she is weaving the veil he will eventually rend. But this reflection on the Biblical past, of course, is bound up with the liturgical present. The roundel of Christ Immanuel in the center of the arch bears Eucharistic associations as well,38 appearing just above the Holy Doors from which the Eucharist will emerge (Fig. 4). The Prepared Throne above them is connected to the Eucharist also, showing that the entire Trinity received the offering.39 Again, presented with these associations, Byzantine rhetoric becomes easier to understand. In the seventh century, PseudoEpiphanius (d. 680) could write: It is as if Theodore’s pendentives illustrate Jesus’s dictum, “you search the Scriptures because you think that in them you have eternal life; and it is they that bear witness about me” (John 5:39). 37 Edgar Hennecke, New Testament Apocrypha, 380. 38 “The scene of the Annunciation links the heavenly occupants of the dome and drum with the congregation beneath, since it is a veiled representation of the Incarnation of Christ, and it prefigures the Holy Eucharist.” David and June Winfield, The Church of the Panaghia tou Arakos, 146. This association also takes visual form in the apse of the twelfth-century church of Panaghia Phorbiotissa in Asinou, Cyprus. Annemarie Weyl Carr argues that the sacrifice of Abraham that appears on the south side of the triumphal arch at Asinou, which flanks Mary in the apse, is “surely Eucharistic in content,” thereby “joining Eucharistic typologies with the Annunciation.” Annemarie Weyl Carr, “Iconography and Identity: Syrian Elements in the Art of Crusader Cyprus” in Religious Origins of Nations?: The Christian Communities of the Middle East, Bas Ter Haar Romeny, ed. (Leiden: Brill, 2010), 148. 39 Milliner, “Icon as Theology,” 88. 36

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I call the Virgin both priest and altar, she, the “table-bearer” who has given us the Christ, the heavenly bread for the forgiveness of sins.40

Fig. 5. The Dormition (Koimesis), South wall of the Virgin of the Vetches church at Lagoudera (1190) © Svetlana Tomeković.

Moving to the south wall of the church, Mary completes her earthly life in the Dormition (Koimesis), which is not without its priestly aspects as well (Fig. 5). Indeed, homilies associated with the Dormition are suffused from the start with Mary’s desire to make an offering of her own body to the Lord. “Bring me a censer,” Mary says in one of the earliest Dormition accounts, “because I want to make an offering to God, our Lord Jesus Christ, who is in heaven.”41 It is easy to overlook that the gathering of the male apostles in this great apocryphal event PG XLIII, 487 a. John Wijingaards, trans., in Kearns, The Virgin Mary, 284. Kearns indicates that “table bearer” was also a title of the priestesses of Pallas Athene (ibid., 337). 41 Stephen Shoemaker, Ancient Traditions of the Virgin Mary's Dormition and Assumption (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002), 379. 40

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occurred because of Mary’s desire to make an offering. Can we understand the bishop hovering so close to Mary with a censer in Theodore’s depiction as a reflection of her request, “Bring me a censer”?42 As a homiletic tradition emerged around this moment, heterodox elements from the Dormition narrative were purged, but the trope of Mary’s self-offering remained. John of Damascus, who offers an especially vetted rendition of the occasion, puts the following words on Mary’s lips: “‘Into your hands, my Son, I confide my spirit!’ Receive the soul that is so dear to you, which you have preserved blameless. Yours is my body, too; I do not give it to the earth!”43 Theodore encapsulates this beautifully by pairing the small angel feeding Mary in the Temple with the angel about to lift her to heaven, as if Theodore was illustrating the words from the Dormition homilies: “For if she had received nourishment from angels in the Lord’s temple, while she was still a child, how much more should she be served by the powers on high after she had become herself the Lord’s temple!”44 But the clearest illustrations of Mary’s association with priesthood occurs in Theodore’s depiction of the Meeting of Simeon and Mary in the Temple below. The meeting in the Temple A Feast for celebrating the Meeting of Simeon and Mary in the Temple45 is attested in Jerusalem by 384AD, but was only gradually accepted, until,

Because most Dormition images instead depict the apostles using the censers, this seems a possible interpretation of such an unusual visual decision. I consider this interpretation a complement to Maria Evangelatou’s thorough examination of the censer as a reference to the Virgin’s womb and to her intercession. Maria Evangelatou, “The symbolism of the censer in Byzantine representations of the Dormition of the Virgin,” in Maria Vassilaki (ed.), Images of the Mother of God: Perception of the Theotokos in Byzantium (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2005), 117-131. 43 Brian Daley, On the Dormition of Mary (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1998), 214. 44 Daley, On the Dormition of Mary, 73. 45 This feast, known as the ὑπαπαντή (Meeting) is also frequently referred to as the Presentation, referring to the Presentation of Christ in the Temple. I will refer to it as the Meeting to distinguish it from the Presentation of Mary in the Temple. 42

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by the eleventh century, it also became one of the twelve great feasts.46 While not unknown in Byzantium’s earliest centuries, iconography for the meeting of Mary and Simeon becomes much more common in the ninth.47 There are visual depictions of the Meeting that happen outside of the Temple, which archaeologically would be more in accord with Jewish practice.48 But in the Byzantine versions, the Meeting of Simeon and the Presentation of the child are fused,49 leading to a nearly universal inclusion of an altar. This amalgamation of the act of presenting the Christ child and the meeting with Simeon is assisted by the Protevangelium, which identifies Simeon as a priest who takes Zechariah’s place after Zechariah was murdered by Herod’s soldiers.50 In short, the conflation of the Presentation and Meeting with Simeon in Byzantine iconography is not dissimilar to the conflation of the Purification and Redemption that occurs in the Gospel of Luke, resulting in a remarkably efficient distillation of Biblical themes in Byzantine art (see Appendix). Theodore not only inherited this iconography, but made a contribution to it at Lagoudera which constitutes a remarkable innovation. Firstly, he placed Simeon directly beneath Zechariah, tidily conveying the priestly lineage of the Protevangelium (Fig. 3). Theodore also went so far as to solve an iconographical quandary surrounding the Meeting of Mary and Simeon that had been vexing Byzantine iconographers for hundreds of years. Byzantine artistic experimentation with Meeting Dorothy C. Schorr, “The Iconographic Development of the Presentation in the Temple,” The Art Bulletin, Vol. 28, No. 1 (Mar., 1946), 17 -19. Schorr describes the transfer of the feast to the West by the fifth century, where it is also known as Candlemas, and where it presumably counter-acted the pagan festivities associated with Lupercalia (ibid., 18). 47 Henry Maguire, “The Iconography of Symeon with the Christ Child in Byzantine Art,” 261-269. 48 Schorr, “The Iconographic Development,” 21. Schorr points out that an “outdoor” altar against an architectural background corresponds most to the Jerusalem temple at the time of the birth of Christ. However, this would of course not have been known to the early Christian artists. The example she employs of the outdoor Meeting is from Cod. Lat. 9448, an Antiphonary from Prüm dating to the eleventh century (ibid., 23). 49 “In this [later] scene, the two episodes of the meeting with Simeon and the presentation of the Child at the altar are always synthesized” (ibid., 22). 50 Edgar Hennecke, New Testament Apocrypha, 387-88. 46

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iconography in the ninth century and beyond gave us a tug of war between Mary and Simeon, with the Christ child caught in between. In the earliest description of the Presentation, at St. Sergius at Gaza, Mary holds the Christ child.51 And yet, in the next surviving description of a destroyed illustration of the event at the Church of the Holy Apostles, Simeon is holding Christ.52 Other depictions of the event that survive indicate the same discrepancy. Sometimes Mary holds the child, as at the pre-iconoclastic version at the Kalanderhane in Istanbul or in the Menologion of Basil II. Sometimes Simeon holds Christ, as in the Chapel of St. Eustathius in Cappadocia or at Amasgou in Cyprus. Such variation would finally be resolved, however, in the “final” version of the Presentation iconography,53 where Simeon ends up with the child, and Mary’s hand is raised above the Temple gates which resemble the royal doors of the Byzantine church from which the Eucharist emerges.54 The frequent addition in these later icons of the exposed leg, a reference to the Eucharistic lamb (Exodus 12:9), intensifies the sacerdotal dimension even more.55 Still, long before this iconographical resolution, Theodore’s unique approach to the problem took an entirely different turn. Instead of choosing a side in the tug of war between Mary and Simeon, he gave the Christ child to both of them (Figs. 6 and 7). The altar in this case is not The description is given by the orator Choricius, who says, “The mother is present, holding the child in her arms.” Laudatio Marciani, I. 56, ed. R. Foerster and E. Richsteig, Teubner (1929). Cited in Henry Maguire, “The Iconography of Symeon with the Christ Child in Byzantine Art,” Dumbarton Oaks Papers, Vol. 34/35, 1980/1981, 262. 52 The description is given by Constantine of Rhodes, written between 931 and 944. He says the “old man Symeon carrying Christ as a baby in his arms.” Maguire, “The Iconography of Symeon,” 262. 53 Variations continued, such as Simeon holding the Christ child as Mary grieves, or the “Simeon Glykophilon” where he appears alone holding the Christ child. But post-Byzantine Cretan icons and Dionysius of Fourna evidence the fact that Mary holding Christ out to Simeon becomes standard. 54 “Candlemas. [The Presentation in the Temple]: A temple and a domed canopy. Saint Simeon the receiver of God holds the infant Christ in his arms, who gives him his blessing. The Virgin on the other side of the altar stretches out her arms to the child.” Paul Hetherington, trans., The ‘Painters Manual’ of Dionysius of Fourna (London: Sagittarius Press, 1974/1989), 32. 55 Ibid., 18. 51

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depicted because it is enacted in the actual sanctuary between the two figures when the liturgy takes place. Theodore Apsevdis produced a “split” Meeting that offered a solution to an iconographical dilemma.

Fig. 6 (left) and Fig. 7 (right). The “split” Meeting at the Virgin of the Vetches Church in Cyprus (1192), illustrating “you are the one who offers” (right) “and is offered” (left). Dumbarton Oaks (left) and Slobodan Ćurčić (right).

Conclusion But the precise purpose of Theodore’s split Meeting is only made clear when one takes into account the aforementioned priestly prayer that accompanied the Cherubic hymn, “for you are the one who offers, and is offered.” For some time it has been evident that theological debate in Constantinople surrounding this prayer influenced Middle-Byzantine art.56 Still, the extent to which this prayer influenced Theodore’s program Gordana Babić, “Les discussion christologiques et le décor des églises byzantine au XIIe siècle,” Frühmittelalterliche Studien: Jarhbuch des Instituts für Frühmittelalterforschung der Universitäat Münster (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1968). 56

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at Lagoudera may have been underestimated, possibly because of the frequent assumption that Mary could not herself be connected to priesthood, the Eucharist and sacrifice.57 On the south wall, just as a serene Jesus offers himself in the arms of the Virgin (Fig. 7), so Mary offers her own body to Christ in the Dormition directly above (Fig. 8). Together they evoke the prayer, “You are the one who offers….” And on the north wall, just as the struggling Christ child is offered by Simeon (Fig. 6), so Mary is offered by her parents above (Fig. 8). Together they complete the prayer, “…and is offered.” The priestly prayer that proceeds from the lips of Mary in the Life of the Virgin gains full visual expression at the Virgin of the Vetches Church, with the imagery clarifying and expanding the prayer’s meaning.58 The aim of the Prayer of the Cherubikon is to remind the priest that it is Christ who is offering himself through the priest. Likewise at Lagoudera, it is Christ below who offers himself and is offered through Mary, who – of course – represents the church, an offering received by the entire Trinity referenced in the Prepared Throne above (Fig. 8).

See also Aston L. Townsley, “Eucharistic Doctrine and the Liturgy in Late Byzantine Painting” Oriens Christianus, 58 (1974), 138-153. Both of these authors point out that the debate led to the inclusion of the Prepared Throne in painting programs (Fig. 8) to show that the entire Trinity received the offering. 57 As in note 10 above. 58 Michel van Esbroeck translates the phrase, “elle se sacrifiait elle-même comme le prêtre et elle était sacrifiée, elle offrait et elle était offerte.” (“She sacrificed herself like the priest, and was sacrificed, she offered and was offered.”) Michel van Esbroeck, trans., Maxime Le Confesseur: Vie de la Vierge, Corpus Scriptorum Christianorum Orientalium (Louvain: In Aedibus E. Peeters, 1986), 64. Because Georgian verbs do not distinguish between male and female subjects, there has been considerable debate about van Esbroeck’s translation. I only add here that Mary’s prayer in this contested text itself references the Prayer of the Cherubikon. The edition and translation of the Life of the Virgin being prepared by Fr Maximos Constas and Christos Simelidis in the Dumbarton Oaks Medieval Library will shed more light on this mysterious text. Fr Maximos Constas, “The Story of an Edition: Antoine Wenger and John Geometres’ Life of the Virgin Mary,” in Thomas Arentzen and Mary Cunningham, eds., The Reception of the Mother of God in Byzantium, 340. 78

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Fig. 8. The Virgin of the Vetches program as an illustration of the Prayer of the Cherubikon: Mary “offers” (in the Dormition) and “is offered” (in the Presentation). Dumbarton Oaks.

It may be possible to quarantine Mary’s priestly associations under the rubric of a priesthood of the laity as opposed to clerical male priesthood as such.59 Imagery of Mary as priest may have served a compensatory role for marginalized women.60 Or perhaps Mary was holding a place for women until they could play the increasing role in the liturgy they enjoy in some quarters today.61 In any case, the apocryphaAs in note 9 above. Evangelatou suggests “Mary’s prominence in Byzantine culture seems to have increased concurrently with a decrease in women’s prominence in the church and it included roles that Christian women could never claim for themselves.” Maria Evangelatou, “Female Materialities at the Altar” (forthcoming). 61 For an exploration as to how Orthodox theology might be taken in this direction, see Sarah Hinlicky Wilson, Woman, Women, and the Priesthood in the Trinitarian Theology of Elisabeth Behr-Sigel (London: T&T Clark, 2013). 59 60

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soaked Virgin of the Vetches Church can be reinterpreted as a visualized form of the priestly prayer that accompanied the Cherubikon. Should this interpretation be correct, then Mary’s neglected associations with the Eucharist, sacrifice and priesthood have surfaced yet again. Appendix

Chart conveying the Biblical background to Byzantine iconography of the Meeting in the Temple (author).

References Primary sources Daley, Brian, trans. On the Dormition of Mary. Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1998. Hennecke, Edgar, and William Schneemelcher, eds., R. McL. Wilson, trans. New Testament Apocrypha, Vol I. Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1963. Greek Orthodox Archdiocese of Thyateira and Great Britain. The Divine Liturgy of our Father among the Saints John Chrysostom. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1995. Hetherington, Paul, trans. Dionysius of Fourna, Painter’s Manual. London: Sagittarius Press, 1974/1989.

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van Esbroeck, Michel. trans. Maxime Le Confesseur: Vie de la Vierge. 2 Vols. Corpus Scriptorum Christianorum Orientalium. Louvain: In Aedibus E. Peeters, 1986.

Secondary literature Adams, Amy Singleton, and Vera Shezov, ed. Framing Mary: The Mother of God in Modern, Revolutionary, and Post-Soviet Russian Culture. DeKalb, IL: Northern Illinois University Press, 2018. Baltoyianni, Chrysanthe. Icons: The Mother of God in the Incarnation and the Passion. Athens: Adams Editions, 1994. Constas, Fr Maximos. “The Story of an Edition: Antoine Wenger and John Geometres’ Life of the Virgin Mary.” In The Reception of the Mother of God in Byzantium: Marian Narratives in Texts and Images, Thomas Arentzen and Mary Cunningham, eds. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2019. Evangelatou, Maria. “Krater of Nectar and Altar of the Bread of Life.” In The Reception of the Mother of God in Byzantium: Marian Narratives in Texts and Images, Thomas Arentzen and Mary Cunningham, eds. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2019. _____. “Female Materialities at the Altar: Mary’s Priestly Motherhood and Women’s Eucharistic Experience in Late Antique and Byzantine Churches.” In Mark Ellison, Carolyn Osiek, Catherine Taylor, eds. Material Culture and Women’s Religious Experience in Antiquity (forthcoming). _____. “The symbolism of the censer in Byzantine representations of the Dormition of the Virgin.” In Maria Vassilaki (ed.). Images of the Mother of God: Perception of the Theotokos in Byzantium. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2005, 117131. Gaventa, Beverly Roberts. Mary: Glimpses of the Mother of Jesus. Columbia, SC: University of South Carolina Press, 1999. Graef, Hilda. Mary: A History of Doctrine and Devotion. South Bend, IN: Ave Maria Press, 2009. Jay, Nancy. Throughout Your Generations Forever: Sacrifice, Religion, and Paternity. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992. Kateusz, Ally. Mary and Early Christian Women: Hidden Leadership. Cham, Switzerland: Palgrave MacMillan, 2019. Kearns, Cleo McNelly. The Virgin Mary, Monotheism and Sacrifice. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008. Lafontaine-Dosogne, Jacqueline. Iconographie de l’enfance de la Vierge, vol. 2. Brussels: Académie royale de Belgique, 1964. Laurentin, René. Maria, Ecclesia, sacerdotium: Essai sur le développement d’une Idée Religieuse. Paris: Nouvelles Éditions Latines, 1952. _____. Marie, L’Eglise et Le Sacerdoce: Etude Théologique. Paris: Nouvelles Éditions Latines, 1953. 81

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Lidov, Alexei. “The Priesthood of the Virgin Mary as an Image-Paradigm of Christian Culture.” IKON, 2017, 10, 9-26. Macy, Gary. The Hidden History of Women’s Ordination: Female Clergy in the Medieval West. New York: Oxford University Press, 2008. Maguire, Henry. “The Iconography of Symeon with the Christ Child in Byzantine Art.” Dumbarton Oaks Papers, Vol. 34/35, 1980/1981, 261-269. Milliner, Matthew J. “Icon as Theology: The Byzantine ‘Virgin of Predestination.’” In James Romaine and Linda Stratford, eds, ReVisioning: Critical Methods of Seeing Christianity in the History of Art. Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, 2014. _____. The Virgin of the Passion: Development, Dissemination and Afterlife of a Byzantine Icon Type. Unpublished dissertation, 2011. Nasr, Rafca Youssef. “Priestly Ornaments and the Priesthood of the Mother of God.” Chronos, Revue d’Histoire de l’Université de Balamand. Numéro 40, 2019. O’Donnell, Karen. “The Flesh of Mary and the Body of Christ: Typological and Artistic Depictions of the Marian Priest.” In Elena V. Shabliy, ed., Representations of the Blessed Virgin Mary in World Literature and Art. New York, Lexington Books, 2017. Oxford Dictionary of Byzantium, Vol. III. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1991. Schorr, Dorothy C. “The Iconographic Development of the Presentation in the Temple.” The Art Bulletin, Vol. 28, No. 1 (Mar., 1946), 17 -19. Shoemaker, Stephen. Ancient Traditions of the Virgin Mary's Dormition and Assumption. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002. Wilson, Sarah Hinlicky. Woman, Women, and the Priesthood in the Trinitarian Theology of Elisabeth Behr-Sigel. London: T&T Clark, 2013. Winfield, David and June. The Church of the Panaghia tou Arakos at Lagoudera, Cyprus: The Paintings and Their Painterly Significance. Washington: Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection, 2003. Woodfin, Warren T. The Embodied Icon: Liturgical Vestments and Sacramental Power in Byzantium. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012.

The author thanks Ally Kateusz, Elise Colón, and two anonymous reviewers for their helpful comments on earlier drafts of this paper.

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Apocryphal Iconography in the Byzantine Churches of Cappadocia: Meaning and Visibility in Scenes of the Story of Mary and the Infancy of Christ Manuela Studer-Karlen Medieval History of Art, University of Fribourg, Switzerland

Introduction In the programs of Byzantine Churches in Cappadocia, the cycles of Childhood, including the story of the Virgin, and the Passion of Christ predominate; miracle cycles of Christ are rarer.1 Christological cycles are found in smaller spaces like the naos, or occasionally in the narthex.2 The selection of scenes and their distribution and iconography vary according to the date of execution of the paintings, the architectural type of the

Catherine Jolivet-Lévy, La Cappadoce médiévale: Images et Spiritualité (Paris: Zodiaque, 2001), 201-218. 2 The narthex of the Church of the Archangel in Cemil features scenes of the life of the Virgin and the Childhood of Christ (thirteenth century). Spiro Kostof, Caves of God. The Monastic Environment of Byzantine Cappadocia (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1972), 276; Lyn Rodley, Cave monasteries of Byzantine Cappadocia (Cambridge: University Press, 1985), 157-159; Catherine, Jolivet-Lévy, Les Églises byzantines de Cappadoce. Le programme iconographique de l’abside et de ses abords (Paris: CNRS, 1991), 157-160; T. Uyar, “L’église de l’Archangélos à Cemil; le décor de la nef sud et le renouveau de la peinture byzantine en Cappadoce au début du XIII e siècle,” Δελτίον της χριστιανικής αρχαιολογικής εταιρείας 29 (2008): 119-129; T. Uyar, “Thirteenth-Century Byzantine Painting in Cappadocia: New Evidence,” in Change in the Byzantine World in the Twelfth and Thirteenth Century. First International Sevgi Gönül Byzantine Studies Symposium, ed. Ayla Ödekan, Engin Akyürek, Nevra Necipoğlu (Istanbul: Anamed, 2010), 617-625; Catherine Jolivet-Lévy, La Cappadoce. Un siècle après G. de Jerphanion (Paris: Geuthner, 2015), 208-216. 1

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Church, its purpose, or even its dedication.3 The main theme of the programs is the Eucharistic sacrifice which invokes the Passion of Christ, made possible by the Incarnation. In paintings, this concept is underlined by emphasizing the Childhood of Christ as well as the Passion. The textual sources for these episodes can be derived from the canonical gospels, exegesis, various apocrypha, liturgy, and local tradition.4 The apocryphal sources contributed valuable visual details to the paintings, like additional episodes or descriptions of places and objects that reinforced the narration. Apocryphal sequences can be found in many cycles of Cappadocian churches. Among the apocryphal scenes, those from the life of Mary and Christ’s Infancy are particularly rich and numerous.5 Indeed, the churches from the ninth century onwards present a considerable panorama of such sequences. From the eleventh century onwards, on the other hand, the apocryphal representations were limited to the representation of the Anastasis and the three most important episodes of the life of the Virgin – the Nativity, the Presentation in the Temple and the Koimesis.6 They correspond to important feasts in the liturgical calendar. This chapter deals with the meaning and visibility of apocryphal representations depicting Mary and the Infancy of Christ in church paintings from Byzantine Cappadocia by analysing how they reference textual sources. This should explain why the apocrypha were so popular in this region. The Protevangelium of James The main source for the painting program about Mary’s life and Christ’s Infancy in the Churches of Cappadocia is the Protevangelium of James Jolivet-Lévy, La Cappadoce médiévale, 179. N. Thierry, “L’Illustration des Apocryphes dans les Églises de Cappadoce,” Apocrypha 2 (1991): 217-218, 246-247. 5 For other apocryphal scenes that do not originate from the story of Mary or Christ’s Infancy, see Thierry, “L’Illustration,” 221-244. 6 The Koimesis is represented rarely in Cappadocia. In Byzantine Churches it is regularly taken up only starting in the twelfth century. Jolivet-Lévy, La Cappadoce médiévale, 199, 306; Z. Skhirtzladze, “Apocryphal Cycle of the Virgin in Medieval Georgian Murals,” in Σύμμεικτα, ed. Ivan Stevović (Belgrade: University of Belgrade, 2012), 111. 3 4

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with details from the Gospel of Matthew.7 The oldest Greek text of the Protevangelium of James dates from the middle or end of the second century.8 Even if the reception of the text was muted by the Church Fathers, it was widely circulated in Greek-speaking Christian communities (from as early as the fourth century) as well as in oriental Churches. Translations from this period exist in Arabic, Syrian, Ethiopic, Georgian, Sahidic, Old Church Slavonic, Armenian, Coptic, and possibly Latin.9 Scholars have largely accepted that the author of the Protevangelium had several sources including some shared by Matthew and Luke.10 The Protevangelium of James narrates the birth of Mary, her childhood, and her marriage (chapters 1-16), the events that happened Kostof, Caves of God, 184. Émile de Strycker, La forme la plus ancienne du Protévangile de Jacques (Bruxelles: Société des Bollandistes, 1961), 71, 195-197, 305-306; James Keith Elliot, The Apocryphal New Testament, A Collection of Apocryphal Christian Literature in an English Translation based on M. R. James (Oxford: The Clarendon Press, 1993), 88-99; C. Horn, “The Protevangelium of James and Its Reception in the Caucasus,” Scrinium 14 (2018): 223-238. Since Clement of Alexandria and Origen quote from it, parts of the work must have been written before the year 200. Some scholars date the Protevangelium in the first century: George T. Zevros, The Protevangelium of James. Greek Text, English Translation, Critical Introduction (London: Bloomsburry, 2019). Among the numerous manuscripts of the Protevangelium, Papyrus Bodmer 5 from the fourth century stands out. It is one of the oldest witnesses and is completely preserved. The Pseudo-Matthew Gospel was written between the sixth and seventh centuries. Edgar Hennecke, Wilhelm Schneemelcher, Christoph Markschies, ed. Antike christliche Apokryphen in deutscher Übersetzung. 1: Evangelien und Verwandtes (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2012), 903-929, 983-1002. Other later apocrypha: The Gospel of the Nativity of Mary, the Infancy Gospel of Thomas, the Arabic Gospel of the Childhood, the History of Joseph the Carpenter. James Keith Elliot, David Cartlidge, Art and the Christian Apocrypha (London: Routledge, 2001), 77-78. 9 Elliot, The Apocryphal, 51-55; Cunningham, M., “The Use of the Protevangelion of James in 8th-Century Homilies on the Mother of God,” in The Cult of the Mother of God in Byzantium. Text and Images, ed. Leslie Brubaker, Mary Cunningham (London: Ashgate Publishing, 2011), 165; Horn, “The Protevangelium”: 226. On the distribution of apocryphal writings: É. Patlagean, “Remarques sur la Diffusion et la Production des Apocryphes dans le Monde Byzantin,” Apocrypha 2 (1991), 155-163. For the didactic and/or apologetic purposes of the text see: Elliot, Cartlidge, Art, 23. 10 Elliot, The Apocryphal, 50; Elliot, Cartlidge, Art, 23. 7 8

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during the early life of Christ (chapters 17-21), and finally the martyrdom of Zachariah (chapters 22-24). The text focuses mainly on the life and the role of Mary which is not related in the Canonical Gospels. In the middle of the sixth century, liturgical writers began to draw on the Protevangelium for inspiration.11 Curiously enough, they accepted the witness of an apocryphal text which had not hitherto received official approval. Cunningham observes that the institution of various Marian feast-days celebrating events in the life of Mary and her role in the conception and birth of Christ began to occur in precisely this period.12 Furthermore, she explains that all the liturgical texts associated with these feasts draw explicitly on the Protevangelium, both for the narrative of Mary’s early life and also for the theological inspiration. Consequently, by the early eighth century at the latest, the Protevangelium had achieved full acceptance in the Byzantine liturgical and theological traditions because it was used as an important inspiration for liturgical hymns and sermons.13 It is to be assumed that the pictorial versions of these gospels have been present at least as early and in the same way as their textual forms.14 On the one hand, from the fifth century onwards, individual scenes from the story of Mary and the first stages of Christ’s life are enriched with details from the apocryphal sources, proving their popularity.15 Thus, the infidel midwife Salome is regularly inserted into the scene of Christ’s

Cunningham, “The Use,” 166; Horn, “The Protevangelium”: 225-226. This starts with Romanos the Melode who employs the apocryphal text as a narrative source in his kontakion. 12 Cunningham, “The Use,” 166-167. For the developmet of several important liturgical feast: Joseph, Ledit, Marie dans la liturgie de Byzance (Paris: Beauchesne, 1976), 102-103, 109, 113, 118-119, 121, 129. 13 Horn, “The Protevangelium”: 225. The Protevangelium enjoyed a hybrid status which one could describe as being both apocryphal and quasi-canonical at the same time. 14 Elliot, Cartlidge, Art, 21; Horn, “The Protevangelium”: 225-226. 15 For these scenes, see: Elżbieta Jastrzębowska, Bild und Wort: Das Marienleben und die Kindheit Jesu in der christlichen Kunst vom 4. bis 8. Jh. und ihre apokryphen Quellen (Warsaw: Uniwersytet Warszawski, 1992); Jacqueline, Lafontaine-Dosogne, L’Iconographie de l’Enfance de la Vierge dans l’Empire byzantin (Bruxelles: Académie royale de Belgique, 1992). 11

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birth on ivory works from the fifth and sixth centuries.16 On the other hand, new scenes from purely apocryphal traditions relating to the life of Mary and the Childhood of Christ appear on the Ciborium column in St. Mark Basilica in Venice (fifth century).17 The appearance of these new scenes can be directly ascribed to the Protevangelium of James among other apocrypha.18 In Cappadocia, the density of surviving monuments with paintings is unrivalled elsewhere in the Byzantine world, especially for the ninth, tenth, and eleventh centuries. From the tenth century at the latest, continuous narration becomes common for the decoration of the naves which shows cycles of Infancy as well as episodes of the Virgin with apocryphal elements throughout. In the absence of comparative material, we can only identify this phenomenon as regional specificity. An exceptional, early example in Cappadocia: Kızıl Çukur Situated in the valley of Kızıl Çukur, the irregular, twin-naved Church of SS. Joachim and Anne has been dated between the sixth and the tenth centuries.19 The north nave provides the oldest and most complete surviving cycle comparable to one of the columns of the ciborium of St.

Wolfgang Fritz Volbach, Elfenbeinarbeiten der Spätantike und des frühen Mittelalters (Mainz: Römisch-Germanisches Zentralmuseum, 1976); Elliot, Cartlidge, Art, 38-40. Other apocryphal motifs in canonical scenes show Mary spinning purple thread at the moment of the Annunciation or the son of Joseph depicted in the Journey to Bethlehem. 17 It is an extended cycle with 19 scenes. J. Lafontaine-Dosogne, “Le rappresentazioni della vita della vergine e dell’infanzia di Cristo nelle scultore e nei moisici di San Marco,” in San Marco – spetti storici e agiografici, ed. Antonio Niero (Venice: Giardini, 1996), 343-369; Thomas Weigel, Le colonne del ciborio dell’altare maggiore di San Marco a Venezia (Venice: Centro Tedesco di Studi Veneziani, 2000). 18 For the different scenes and their inspiration from the Protevangelium of James, see the list in: Elliot, Cartlidge, Art, 29-32. 19 For a discussion of the dating, see: Jolivet-Lévy, Les Églises, 49-50. For the architecture with an accurate plan: Robert G. Ousterhout, Visualizing Community. Art, Material Culture, and Settlement in Byzantine Cappadocia (Washington: Dumbarton Oaks Studies 46, 2017), 65-67, fig. 1.50, 1.51. A date to the ninth century seems most likely. 16

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Mark of Venice.20 It remains the only one entirely devoted to the life of the Virgin Mary. At the eastern tympanum, the Virgin appears in the mandorla, carrying a seated child who blesses and holds a scroll.21 The cycle of 13 scenes starts in the east part of the south vault of the naos. The richness and precision of the episodes depicted are clearly and directly dependent on the oldest version of the Protevangelium of James.22 For this unique narrative program, it has been suggested that a miniature cycle like an illustrated book of James served as a model.23 The N. and M. Thierry, “Église de Kizil-Tchoukour, chapelle iconoclaste, chapelle de Joachim et Anne,” Monuments et Mémoires. Fondation Eugène Piot 50 (1958): 105146; N. Thierry, “Iconographie inédite en Cappadoce. Le cycle de la Conception et l’enfance de la Vierge à Kizil Tshoukour,” in Akten des XI. Byzantinistenkongresses, ed. Franz Dölger, Hans Georg Beck (München: C. H. Beck, 1960), 620-623; Marcell Restle, Die byzantinische Wandmalerei in Kleinasien, IIII (Recklinghausen: Aurel Bongers, 1967), 344-354; Lafontaine-Dosogne L’Iconographie, 70, 187; Jolivet-Lévy, La Cappadoce médiévale, 36, 304-306; Nicole Thierry, Haut Moyen-Âge en Cappadoce. Les églises de la région de Çavuşin, II (Paris: Geuthner, 1994), 203-237; Nicole Thierry, La Cappadoce de l’Antiquité au MoyenÂge (Turnhout: Brepols 2002), 122-123, 145; Jolivet-Lévy, Les Églises, 47-50; Skhirtzladze, “Apocryphal Cycle,” 107-108; Jolivet-Lévy, La Cappadoce, 150-152. Its early dedication – perhaps to the Virgin – is not certain and its current name was given because of its iconographic program. 21 The parallel for this extraordinarily rare representation is in the apse of Panagia Kanakaria in Lythrankomi (second quarter of the sixth century). Marina Sacopoulo, La Theotokos à la mandorle de Lythrankomi (Paris: G.-P. Maisonneuve & Larose, 1975); Arthur Hubert Stanley Megaw, Ernst J. Hawkins, The Church of the Panagia Kanakariá Lythrankomi in Cyprus. Its Mosaics and Frescoes (Washington: Dumbarton Oaks, 1977). Jolivet-Lévy, Les Églises, 49, n. 14, gives as a further parallel the stele in the museum of Tbilisi, sixth-seventh centuries. Kiti Mačabeli, Early Medieval Georgian Stone Crosses (T’bilisi: G. Č’ubinašvilis Center, 2008), 30, 118, fig. 20. 22 Kostof, Caves of God, 184-185; Nicole Thierry, Haut Moyen-Âge en Cappadoce. Les églises de la région de Çavuşin, I (Paris: Geuthner, 1983), 316-332; Thierry, “L’Illustration”: 219-221; Thierry, La Cappadoce, 145. 23 Kostof, Caves of God, 184-185; Lafontaine-Dosogne, L’Iconographie, 187. The scenes of the cycle: 1: An affront to Joachim, old and barren, whose offerings are refused. 2: An angel announces to Joachim that he will be a father, which he reads in the Book of the twelve tribes. 3: An affront to Anne, old and barren, to whom her servant offers a royal band of which she is unworthy. 4: An angel announces Anne’s future pregnancy to her. 5: Meeting of Joachim and Anne. 6: 20

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two scenes of the Annunciation, in which the birth of their daughter Mary is announced to Joachim and Anne (Prot. Jas. 4: 1-3) are based on earlier depictions of the Annunciation to Mary. The scene of Rubin’s reproaches to Joachim for his childlessness (Prot. Jas. 1: 1-2) had not occurred until now. However, scenes depicting Anne being reproached for the same reason (Prot. Jas. 2: 1-4) appeared earlier on ivory tablets from the sixth century.24 Illustrations depicting the confrontation between Anne and her servant Judith are rare.25 Judith offers a royal headband to Anne of which she is unworthy. In the different versions of the Protevangelium, the headband disappears or is forgotten.26 The headband is a symbol of royalty, especially in the oriental areas of the Greco-Roman world. In Kızıl Çukur, pictures of the birth of Mary show Anne richly endowed with this headband. The scene where Anne welcomes Joachim at the city gate (Prot. Jas. 4: 4) could be seen formally and as an imitation of the Visitation scene with Mary and Elizabeth in an intimate embrace. The cycle offers the unique feature of representing, among purely narrative scenes, Anne conceived without a man’s seed in a symbolic form. This concept is linked to an ancient textual tradition, which was condemned very early on, but which nonetheless continued in some original texts.27 The depiction of Mary’s Nativity with Anne standing and supported by two midwives is unique (Prot. Jas. 5: 2). The subject is repeated only Nativity of Mary. 7: Presentation of Mary. 8: The first steps of Mary. 9: Mary led to the temple. 10: Mary presented to the High Priest. 11: Mary settled on the altar. 12: Mary fed by the angel. 13: The advice of the priests (or the marriage of the Virgin Mary). 24 St. Petersburg, The Hermitage, Omega 300, 301. Paris, Bibliothèque nationale, ms. Lat. 9384. Other examples of the scene are found on the ciborium column A in St. Mark, Venice. N. Thierry, “Identification de deux ivoires paléochrétiens,” Journal des Savants (1978): 185-194. Later examples from the fifteenth century: Lafontaine-Dosogne, L’Iconographie, 69, 72, fig. 24-25; Elliot, Cartlidge, Art, 38-40. 25 N. Thierry, “L’Iconographie cappadocienne de l’affront fait à Anne d’après le Protévangile de Jacques,” Apocrypha 2 (1996): 261-272. In Cappadocia, this image in Kızıl Çukur is unique. 26 Thierry, “L’Iconographie cappadocienne”: 261. Only the Syriac and Greek versions retain the scene in its basic form. 27 Lafontaine-Dosogne, L’Iconographie, 68, 82 89

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once in Cappadocia, in the eleventh century at Sarıca Kilise in Ürgüp.28 In the next depiction, Anne rests semi-seated on a decorative mattress, and little Mary is shown to her (Prot. Jas. 5: 2).29 The next six scenes tell the story of Mary’s Childhood until her marriage to Joseph (Prot. Jas. 69). Jolivet-Lévy suggested that the triumphant image of Mary in the mandorla at the eastern tympanum and the cycle exalting the miraculous nature of her conception on the vault of the naos – both exceptional – were created in a context of religious controversy.30 The cycle in the churches of the tenth century in Cappadocia Although rich in narration, image cycles in the so-called “archaic” churches (primarily of the tenth century) are not simply textual illustrations or retellings.31 The variants linked to the spatial framework of the architecture show the great flexibility of this decorative program.32 The placement of the scenes and the way they occupy the space provide clues about the liturgical functioning of the place and provide a visual J. Lafontaine-Dosogne, “Sarıca kilise en Cappadoce,” Cahiers Archéologiques 12 (1962), 263-284; Thierry, “Iconographie inédite”, 621; H. Wiemer-Enis, “Die Sarıca Kilise. Eine Kirche der spätbyzantinischen Zeit in Kappadokien,” Istanbuler Mitteilungen 47 (1997): 415-429; Thierry, La Cappadoce, 123; Ursula Weissbrod, “Hier liegt der Knecht Gottes…”: Gräber in byzantinischen Kirchen und ihr Dekor (11. bis 15. Jahrhundert): unter besonderer Berücksichtigung der Höhlenkirchen Kappadokiens (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2003), 58-60, 229-230; Jolivet-Lévy, La Cappadoce, 173-174. This iconography was possibly deliberately chosen to avoid confusion of this scene with the scene of the Nativity of Christ. For the Nativity in Sarıca Kilise, composed like the Nativity of Christ: Lafontaine-Dosogne, L’Iconographie, 270. 29 Thierry, “Iconographie inédite,” 620-623; Thierry, Haut Moyen-Âge, I, 316-332; Thierry, “L’Illustration”: 219-221. 30 Jolivet-Lévy, La Cappadoce médiévale, 305. 31 Guillaume de Jerphanion, Les églises rupestres de Cappadoce, I, 1 (Paris: Geuthner, 1925-1942), 67-94 ; Rainer Warland, Byzantinisches Kappadokien (Darmstadt: Ph. von Zabern, 2013), 69. For these churches, see: R. Cormack, “The Archaic Group of Wall Paintings,” JBAA 30 (1967): 19-36. For the cycles in churches of the tenth century see: Kostof, Caves of God, 169-193; Jolivet-Lévy, La Cappadoce médiévale, 179-184; Thierry, La Cappadoce, 144-148; Jolivet-Lévy, La Cappadoce, 19-38. 32 Ousterhout, Visualizing Community, 242-256. 28

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commentary to the rite.33 The representations are always paired with associated inscriptions that present the title of the scene, the names of the characters, and often some liturgical quotes.34 In most cases they are not necessary for understanding the scenes, but they authenticate the image and engage in a dialogue with the viewer rather than clarifying the iconography.35 The permanent use of apocrypha together with canonical, liturgical and theological writings can explain the formation of these scenes. While the program and development of the apocrypha vary from one church to another, the considerable repertories occupy a privileged position.36 In one-aisled churches, the narrative cycles are placed on the vault in chronological sequence in uninterrupted bands and in the adjoining tympanum. The extended program in Tokalı Kilise I (Göreme n. 7a, first quarter of the tenth century) starts off at the southeast corner of the topmost band with the Annunciation, continues to the west end of the nave and then passes to the other side of the row of medallions until it reaches the northeast corner with the murder of Zachariah.37 Further on, such detailed cycles with multiple scenes from Childhood can be found in the eastern part in the Church of St. John in Güllü Dere (913-920)38 Ousterhout, Visualizing Community, 217. Ousterhout, Visualizing Community, 256-269; C. Jolivet-Lévy, “Inscriptions et images dans les églises byzantines de Cappadoce. Visibilité/lisibilité, interactions et fonctions,” in Visibilité et Présence de l’Image dans l’Espace ecclésial. Byzance et Moyen Âge occidental, ed. Sulamith Brodbeck, Anne-Orange Poilpré (Paris: Éditions de la Sorbonne, 2019), 377-408. 35 Jolivet-Lévy, “Inscriptions et images,” 408. 36 Kostof, Caves of God, 183-184. 37 De Jerphanion, Les églises rupestres, I, 2, 262-294; Restle, Die byzantinische Wandmalerei I, 23-26, 111-116; Rodley, Cave monasteries, 213-222; Ann Wharton Epstein, Tokalı Kilise. Tenth-Century Metropolitan Art in Byzantine Cappadocia (Washington: Dumbarton Oaks, 1986); Jolivet-Lévy, Les Églises, 94-96; JolivetLévy, La Cappadoce médiévale, 181-183, 187-188, 281; Thierry, La Cappadoce, 1456, n. 26; Catherine Jolivet-Lévy, Ahmet Ertuğ, Sacred Art of Cappadocia. Byzantine Murals from the 6th to 13th Centuries (Istanbul: Ertuğ & Kocabiyit 2006), 45-47; Pl. 28-30; Jolivet-Lévy, La Cappadoce, 70-73; Ousterhout, Visualizing Community, 217218. 38 Thierry, La Cappadoce, 140-148, n. 24; Restle, Die byzantinische Wandmalerei I, 140-141; Rodley, Cave monasteries, 207-213; Jolivet-Lévy, La Cappadoce médiévale, 187-188; Weissbrod, “Hier liegt der Knecht Gottes…”, 61-64, 218-220; Jolivet-Lévy, 33 34

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or on the vault of Bahattin Samanliğı Kilisesi in Peristrema (end of tenth century).39 Thus, the Annunciation and the Visitation are confronted with the Nativity.40 Despite the succession of episodes in continuous friezes, these programs show the concern to establish a hierarchy between scenes and to highlight certain scenes in the adjoining west tympanum. This is the case with the Nativity in the Pigeon House Church in Çavuşin (963-969; Fig. 1)41 or in Bahattin Samanliğı Kilisesi in Peristrema or in Pürenli Seki Kilisesi in the valley of İhlara (first quarter of the tenth century; Fig. 2).42 Depending on the size, some churches had to reduce the Christological cycle. The Infancy sequence was hardly affected. If the space for an extended cycle was lacking, the Childhood cycle was presented alone, like in St. Eusthathios (Göreme n. 11, first quarter of the tenth century).43 On the contrary, the miracles cycle may be reduced to the single scene of the Baptism of Christ, and the Passion to just the Crucifixion. Scenes from the story of Mary and Christ’s Infancy are often juxtaposed with the scenes of the Passion and Resurrection on the vault, like in Pürenli Seki Kilisesi in the valley of

Les Églises, 37-44; Jolivet-Lévy, Ertuğ, Sacred Art, 10-17; Jolivet-Lévy, La Cappadoce, 147-156. 39 Michel and Nicole Thierry, Nouvelles églises rupestres de Cappadoce. Région du Hasan Daği (Paris: C. Klincksieck, 1963), 155-173; Thierry, La Cappadoce, 148-149, n. 36; Restle, Die byzantinische Wandmalerei I, 41, 177-178; Jolivet-Lévy, La Cappadoce, 127-133. 40 This is also the case for example in Tokalı Kilise II (Göreme n. 7) and in Göreme n. 6 (first quarter of the tenth century). 41 De Jerphanion, Les églises rupestres, I, 2, 520-550, Restle, Die byzantinische Wandmalerei I, 30-36, 135-138; L. Rodley, “The Pigeon House Church, Çavuşin,” JÖB 33 (1983): 301-339; Thierry, Haut Moyen-Âge, I, 42-57; Kostof, Caves of God, 160-161, 210; Jolivet-Lévy, Les Églises, 15-26; Jolivet-Lévy, Ertuğ, Sacred Art, 8695, Pl. 60-66; Jolivet-Lévy, La Cappadoce, 130-133; Ousterhout, Visualizing Community, 255. 42 Thierry, Nouvelles églises, 135-153; Jolivet-Lévy, Les Églises, 303-305. There are other examples of this. The scene that is highlighted in the tympanum, however, is usually the Nativity of Christ or the Journey to Bethlehem or the Transfiguration. 43 De Jerphanion, Les églises rupestres, I, 1, 147-170; Jolivet-Lévy, Les Églises, 112116; Jolivet-Lévy, La Cappadoce médiévale, 284; Jolivet-Lévy, La Cappadoce, 39-44; For other examples: Jolivet-Lévy, La Cappadoce médiévale, 182. 92

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İhlara (first quarter of the tenth century; Fig. 2)44 or in Karabaş Kilise in Soğanlı (first half of the tenth century).45 Episodes of the Passion and Resurrection could be depicted just below the Childhood scenes on the wall, like in St. John in Güllü Dere and in the Pigeon House Church in Çavuşin (Fig. 1).46

Fig. 1. Childhood of Christ, Church of the Pigeon House, Çavuşin (963-969). Photo: Author.

Concerning the iconography, the first scenes from the cycle are indicative of the narrative system of the apocryphal text. According to the Gospels of James, the Virgin witnessed a double Annunciation; one

Thierry, Nouvelles églises, 135-153; Jolivet-Lévy, Les Églises, 303-305. Rodley, Cave monasteries, 193-202; Restle, Die byzantinische Wandmalerei I, 46-48, 162-164; Jolivet-Lévy, Les Églises, 266-270; Jolivet-Lévy, La Cappadoce médiévale, 297; Thierry, La Cappadoce, n. 47; Jolivet-Lévy, Ertuğ, Sacred Art, 118-123, Pl. 8589; Jolivet-Lévy, La Cappadoce, 272-277. This date is for the first layer. 46 Other examples: SS. Apostles in Mustafapaşa, Bahattin Samanliğı Kilisesi in Peristrema. 44 45

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takes place by a well (Prot. Jas. 11, 1-2).47 A pictorial correlation can be found in Eğri Taş Kilisesi in the valley of İhlara (921-944; Fig. 3).48

Fig. 2. Childhood of Christ, Pürenli Seki Kilisesi, Valley of İhlara (first quarter of the tenth century). Photo: Author.

Another apocryphal detail featured is the spinning of purple threads for the temple curtains just before Gabriel approaches Mary in Joseph’s house (Prot. Jas. 11: 1; Fig. 4, 13). Mary’s visit to her cousin Elizabeth, reported by both Luke 1: 39-56 and the Gospel of James 12: 2-3, shows the two women embracing. Not mentioned in the texts is the presence of a small servant, standing in the frame of an archway (Fig. 1, 2, 3, 4). She serves as a witness confirming the reality of the event and the human nature of Christ.49 In Bahattin Samanliğı Kilisesi in Peristrema she points conspicuously at the two women with a raised hand (Fig. 5). The sequence of Joseph confronting De Jerphanion, Les églises rupestres, I, 1, 73-74. Thierry, Nouvelles églises, 47, 50-54; Jolivet-Lévy, Les Églises, 300-302; JolivetLévy, La Cappadoce médiévale, 194, 290; Thierry, La Cappadoce, n. 31. 49 De Jerphanion, Les églises rupestres, I, 1, 74-75; Jolivet-Lévy, La Cappadoce médiévale, 189. 47 48

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Mary (Prot. Jas. 13: 2) is seldom portrayed, as in Barbara Kilisesi in Soğanlı, with a painting that may be dated by its inscription to either 1006 or 1021.50

Fig. 3. Childhood of Christ, Eğri Taş Kilisesi, Valley of İhlara (921-944). Photo: Author.

The Trial by Water, a purely apocryphal episode, is hardly ever missing in the churches of the tenth and eleventh centuries (Prot. Jas. 16: 1-2).51 The proof of perpetual virginity is a main theme that certainly De Jerphanion, Les églises rupestres, II, 1, 307-332; Restle, Die byzantinische Wandmalerei II, 42-45, 160-161; Rodley, Cave monasteries, 203-207; Weissbrod, “Hier liegt der Knecht Gottes…”, 16-17, 234-235; Jolivet-Lévy, Les Églises, 258-262; Jolivet-Lévy, Ertuğ, Sacred Art, 114-117, Pl. 81-84; Jolivet-Lévy, La Cappadoce, 267-271; Ousterhout, Visualizing Community, 229. 51 De Jerphanion, Les églises rupestres, I, 1, 75; S. Y. Arsal, “A Scene from Asia Minor: The Trial by Water,” Synergies 2 (2009): 51-57. Contrary to Arsal’s assertion, the scene is not absent in Western art. The oldest fresco in Italy depicting Mary at the Trial of Water is probably that of the Church of S. Maria di Castelseprio, sometimes dated as early as the seventh century. M. Schapiro, “The Frescoes of Castelseprio,” in Late Antique, Early Christian and Mediaeval Art: 50

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played a significant role in the progress of the Marian cult.52 A reference to this can be found in apocryphal texts when they mention an Old Testament woman who is accused of having deceived her husband (Numbers 5: 11-31). The High Priest, identified as Zachariah, is shown putting a goblet to Mary’s mouth while Joseph is drinking water from the vessel in his hands (Fig. 1, 6).53 The depiction of Mary and Joseph after the Trial is very rare, such as in Barbara Kilisesi in Soğanlı (Fig. 6).

Fig. 4. Annunciation and Visitation, Barbara Kilisesi, Soğanlı (eleventh century). Photo: Author. Selected Papers (New York: George Braziller, 1979), 67-114, figs. 1, 15, 17; Kurt Weitzmann, The Fresco Cycle of S. Maria Di Castelseprio (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1951), 48-50, fig 9. 52 Arsal, “A Scene”: 55. 53 One of the earliest examples of this representation is the ivory from the fifth and sixth centuries. The High Priest is sometimes missing and instead replaced by an angel, for example on one plate of the Cathedra of Maximian in Ravenna. 96

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Fig. 5. Visitation, Bahattin Samanliğı Kilisesi, Peristrema (tenth century). Photo: Author.

The apocryphal motif in the Journey to Bethlehem (Luke 2: 1-5) is James, the son of Joseph, dressed in a traveling outfit and leading the donkey towards the right (Prot. Jas: 17, 1-3; Fig. 2, 7).54 This scene, the first manifestation of the human life of Christ, is especially highlighted in the Pigeon House Church in Çavuşin, where it is placed on the same tympanum as the Nativity (Fig. 1).55 It is interesting to draw attention to one small detail; the donkey is wearing silk ribbons above its hooves such as those worn by the imperial steed in ceremonial processions at Constantinople (Fig. 7).56 These scenes preceding the Nativity illustrate the inception of the realization of God’s plan.

De Jerphanion, Les églises rupestres, I, 1, 76; Jolivet-Lévy, La Cappadoce médiévale, 190. 55 The depiction was damaged by the installation of a later window. 56 Kostof, Caves of God, 176. The donkey which Mary and Christ ride on the journey to Egypt also wears silk ribbons above its hooves. 54

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Fig. 6. Trial by Water and Mary and Joseph after the Trial, Barbara Kilisesi, Soğanlı (eleventh century). Photo: Author.

Fig. 7. Journey to Bethlehem, Pürenli Seki Kilisesi, Valley of İhlara (first quarter of the tenth century). Photo: Author. 98

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The most important episode in the cycle, the large scene of the Nativity (Luke 2: 5-7; Prot. Jas. 18-20), includes the bathing of the Infant and the Annunciation to the shepherds (Fig. 1, 2, 3, 8).57 The apocryphal text has been the source of inspiration for many details of the scene; thus, Salome and another midwife are bathing the Christ Child. An iconographic exception is when the child performs the gesture of orans as seen in St. John in Gülle Dere or in the Pigeon House Church in Çavuşin.58 The text of the Protevangelium stresses the presence of light shining on Mary and Christ (Prot. Jas. 19: 2; 21: 2), a feature which occurs prominently in the visual evidence. This is the case in Eğri Taş Kilisesi (Fig. 3) or in Kokar Kilise (Fig. 8), both in the valley of İhlara.59

Fig. 8. Nativity of Christ with Adoration of the Magi and the shepherds, Kokar Kilise, Valley of İhlara (eleventh century). Photo: Author.

The shepherds also show remarkable details. There are three of them, typically representing the three ages of man. The youngest plays the flute (Fig. 10). The caption is drawn from a liturgical text in the orthros of December 24.60 The three shepherds have names which are derived from Jolivet-Lévy, La Cappadoce médiévale, 190-192. Thierry, La Cappadoce, 120, 145. 59 Thierry, “L’Illustration,” 235. 60 De Jerphanion, Les églises rupestres, I, 1, 77-8; Kostof, Caves of God, 176, 183; Jolivet-Lévy, La Cappadoce médiévale, 191: “Case your dwelling in the fields ye leader of the flock.” This indication is dependent upon a mural painting in the monastery of the Poimnion near Bethlehem. 57 58

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the five words of the famous magic square and apotropaic palindrome.61 In Churches of the tenth and eleventh centuries there are usually three, but in Eğri Taş Kilisesi (Fig. 3) or also later in Kokar Kilise (eleventh century; Fig. 8)62 there are five shepherds, each bearing one of the five words of the magic square SATOR/AREPO for name.63 In the iconography prior to the eleventh century, as in Early Christian art, the Adoration of the Magi (Prot. Jas. 21: 1-4) is an independent subject of the Nativity (Fig. 1, 3, 8).64 In Tokalı Kilise II in Göreme, even their journey is depicted. The eastern apocrypha, written in Syria, Armenia, or close to Persia, from where the Magi had come, have added clarifications to the account of the Gospel which the iconographers have taken up on their own.65 The scene of the Adoration of the Magi is often assigned a special placement in the programs. At the Pigeon House Church in Çavuşin it occupies a large area (Fig. 1). Like the shepherds, the Magi also represent the three ages of man and their names are mostly indicated. Often, the Magi are also led by an angel analogous to the specification in the text (Prot. Jas. 21: 4), as for example in the Pigeon House Church in Çavuşin (Fig. 1), in Eğri Taş Kilisesi (Fig. 3) or in Kokar Kilise (Fig 8),66 both in the valley of İhlara. The narrative at the Eğri Taş Kostof, Caves of God, 177. In the third century the formula was adopted by the Christians. Thierry, La Cappadoce, 160. For the use of magic in the inscriptions: Jolivet-Lévy, “Inscriptions et images,” 380-382. 62 Thierry, Nouvelles églises, 115-136; Kostof, Caves of God, 176-177; Jolivet-Lévy, Les Églises, 304; Thierry, La Cappadoce, 160-161, sch. 64, n. 33; Ousterhout, Visualizing Community, 219-220, fig. 2.50. 63 G. de Jerphanion, “La formule magique Sator Arepo ou Rotas Opera,” La Voix des Monuments : Études d’archéologie, nouvelle série (1938): 38-94; N. Thierry, “Le devenir du carré magique “sator” en Cappadoce dite archaïque,” Res Orientales 14 (2002): 267-273. 64 Jolivet-Lévy, La Cappadoce médiévale, 192-194. 65 De Jerphanion, Les églises rupestres, I, 1, 78; Thierry, Nouvelles églises, 47, 50-54; Kostof, Caves of God, 198; Thierry, “L’Illustration”: 232-234; Jolivet-Lévy, La Cappadoce médiévale, 192 ; Ousterhout, Visualizing Community, 244-246. These writings may, for example, be associated with the Maguseans from Babylon. We know from Basil of Caesarea’s letter 208 that they were still living in Cappadocia at the end of the fourth century. Benoît Gain, L’Église de Cappadoce au IVe siècle d’après la correspondance de Basile de Césarée (330-379), (Rome: Pontificium Institutum Studiorum Orientalium, 1985), 160-161, 362-374, 380. 66 The Magi were warned by the angel that they should not got into Judea. 61

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Kilisesi includes a number of unusual features that have been attributed to the presence of Coptic or Syrian refugees in the region.67 In addition to the standard representation of the Adoration of the Magi, a remarkable sequence on the other side of the vault deals with the different visions of the Magi, which is a unique iconography drawn from the Armenian Book of Childhood (17: 11-21; Fig. 9).68

Fig. 9. Adoration of the Magi and the different visions of the Magi, Eğri Taş Kilisesi, Valley of İhlara (921-944). Photo: Author.

Fig. 10. Nativity of Christ, Saklı Kilise, Göreme n. 2 (middle of the eleventh century). Photo: Author. N. Thierry, “Notes critiques à propos des peintures rupestres de Cappadoce,” REB 26 (1968) : 350-351. 68 Thierry, Nouvelles églises, 50-54; Kostof, Caves of God, 198-199; Thierry, “L’Illustration”: 233-234, fig. 14; Jolivet-Lévy, La Cappadoce médiévale, 192; Thierry, La Cappadoce, 155; Ousterhout, Visualizing Community, 219-220, fig. 2.50. 67

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Fig. 11. Nativity of Christ, Eski Gümüs, Niğde (eleventh century). Photo: Author.

According to this apocryphal text, the three kings, Melchior, Gaspar, and Balthazar, individually approached Christ in adoration, and their vision of him was different each time. They saw him as the Son of God incarnate seated on a throne of glory, as the son of an earthly king, and finally as the infant in the manger.69 In churches from the eleventh century onwards, the Adoration of the Magi is mostly integrated in the depiction of the Nativity of Christ, as in Saklı Kilise (Göreme n. 2a, middle of the eleventh century; Fig. 10)70 or in Eski Gümüs in Niğde (eleventh century; Fig. 11).71 In the scene of the Massacre of the Innocents (Prot. Jas 22: 1-3) a woman is shown opposite Herod, tearing her hair in anguish, though she is not mentioned in the text. She is identified in the words of Matthew 2: G. Dagron, “Holy Images and Likeness,” DOP 45 (1991): 28, n. 42; J. Lafontaine-Dosogne, “L’Illustration du cycle des Mages suivant l’homélie sur la Nativité attribuée à Jean Damascène,” Le Muséon 100 (1987): 220-221. 70 Restle, Die byzantinische Wandmalerei I, 50-52, 103-105; Thierry, La Cappadoce, 195-196, n. 40; Jolivet-Lévy, Les Églises, 85-87; Jolivet-Lévy, La Cappadoce, 51 ; Ousterhout, Visualizing Community, 220-221, 244. The upper left register of the left aisle is devoted to scenes form the life of John the Baptist. 71 Rodley, Cave monasteries, 103-117; Weissbrod, “Hier liegt der Knecht Gottes…”, 230-231; Jolivet-Lévy, Les Églises, 278-281. 69

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18: “Rachel weeping for her children.” The representations in the Pigeon House Church in Çavuşin (Fig. 1) or in Bahattin Samanliğı Kilisesi in Peristrema (Fig. 12) are striking because the child held upside down by the leg is the size of an adult.72 Highlighting these victims emphasizes the brutality of the dramatic killing.

Fig. 12. Massacre of the Innocents, Bahattin Samanliğı Kilisesi, Peristrema (tenth century). Photo: Author.

The scene of the Flight into Egypt is constructed very much like the Journey to Bethlehem.73 The picture is closed off at the right by an architectural motif symbolizing a city gate in which the allegorical figure of Egypt stands holding a torch to illuminate the night. She is the symbol recognizing Christ as the son of God.74 In Eğri Taş Kilisesi in the valley of İhlara, the illustration of the Flight into Egypt is based on the oldest form of the Protevanglium, Joseph accompanied by two of his sons and not just one (Fig. 3).75

Thierry, La Cappadoce, sch. 53; Rodley 1983, 333-334, 336. A parallel to the representation in Çavuşin can be found in the Tavşanlı Kilise in Mustafapaşa (913-920). Ousterhout, Visualizing Community, 218. 73 De Jerphanion, Les églises rupestres, I, 1, 79; Jolivet-Lévy, La Cappadoce médiévale, 196-197. 74 Warland, Byzantinisches Kappadokien, 69-70. 75 Thierry, Nouvelles églises, 55-56. 72

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In extended versions of the cycle the Childhood sequence goes on with three more scenes, the murder of Zachariah and the Flight of Elizabeth, both based faithfully on the account of the Gospels of James (Prot. Jas. 22, 3-24, 4) and the Presentation of Jesus in the Temple that illustrates Luke 2: 22-39. The murder of Zachariah (Fig. 12) and the Flight of Elizabeth form part of a cycle of St. John which is sometimes composed as a continuation of the Childhood cycle.76 The best example is found in the Pigeon House Church in Çavuşin (Fig. 1).77

Fig. 13. Annunciation, Tokalı Kilise II, Göreme n. 7 (tenth century). Photo: Author.

Rodley 1983, 333-334; Jolivet-Lévy, La Cappadoce médiévale, 200-201; Warland, Byzantinisches Kappadokien, 70-71. This is a further indication of the importance of the cult of St. John in Cappadocia. 77 Other examples are in Bahattin Samanliğı Kilisesi in Peristrema or in St. Eustahios. 76

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If the Church has a cross-domed plan, most of the Infancy depictions are in the southeast of the building. So, in El Nazar (Göreme n. 1; tenth century), the central dome features the Ascension, but the barrel-vaulted arms of the cruciform church are decorated with bands of continuous narrative. The Childhood sequences with the Annunciation, the Visitation, the Nativity and the Adoration of the Magi are all illustrated in the southern part juxtaposing to the scenes of the Passion.78 The architecture allows certain significant scenes to be singled out, so that the south lunate contains the Nativity, set opposite the north lunette with the Crucifixion. While the presentation of the episodes in a continuous frieze is also partially maintained in Tokalı Kilise II (Göreme n. 7; middle of the tenth century), the meaning of reading is more complex, due to the elaborate architectural type. Above all, the most important themes, corresponding to the major liturgical feasts, benefit from a very obvious location; this is the case for the Annunciation (Fig. 13) and the Nativity.79 The emphasis on the episodes of Christ’s Infancy in the decorations of the tenth and eleventh centuries can be compared to the primordial role of the doctrine of the Incarnation in the theological discussions of the period following the end of Iconoclasm. Although the question of the two natures was no longer at the centre of theological controversies De Jerphanion, Les églises rupestres, I, 1, 177-198; Restle, Die byzantinische Wandmalerei II, 101-103; Jolivet-Lévy, Les Églises, 83-85; Jolivet-Lévy, La Cappadoce médiévale, 183, 288; Jolivet-Lévy, La Cappadoce, 45-56. With other examples. Thierry, La Cappadoce, n. 29; Ousterhout, Visualizing Community, 222-223. 79 Restle, Die byzantinische Wandmalerei I, 35-37, 111-116; Rodley, Cave monasteries, 213-222; Wharton Epstein, Tokalı Kilise; Jolivet-Lévy, Les Églises, 94-108; JolivetLévy, La Cappadoce médiévale, 184-185; H. Wiemer-Enis, “Zur Datierung der Malerei der Neuen Tokalı in Göreme,” Byzantinische Zeitschrift 91 (1998), 92-102; R. Warland, “Das Templon der Neuen Tokalı Kilise in Göreme, Kappadokien,” in Λιθόστρωτον. Studien zur Byzantinischen Kunst und Geschichte. Festschrift für Marcell Restle, ed. Brigitt Borkopp, Thomas Steppan (Stuttgart: A. Hiersemann, 2000), 325-332; M. Parani, “The Romanos Ivory and the New Tokalı Kilise: Imperial Costume as a Tool for Dating Byzantine Art,” Cahiers Archéologiques 49 (2001): 15-28; Jolivet-Lévy, Ertuğ, Sacred Art, 40-51, 55-85, Pl. 27, 31-59; C. JolivetLévy, “Tokalı kilise Revisited: New Considerations on Christ’s Ministry in the New Church,” in Uluslarası Nevşehir Tarih ve Kültür Sempozyumu, ed. Adem Öger (Ankara: 2012), 131-141; Jolivet-Lévy, La Cappadoce, 73-85; Ousterhout, Visualizing Community, 226. The same constellation can be observed in Göreme 6 (first quarter of the tenth century). Jolivet-Lévy, La Cappadoce médiévale, 286. 78

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in the tenth century, the decoration of the Churches nevertheless proclaims Orthodox doctrine with all the more force as Cappadocia was certainly not spared the consequences of the great heresies and the sectarian deviations which resumed with force in Asia Minor after the end of the Iconoclasm. The dogmatic value attributed to the images reveals an apologetic aim.80 A further explanation for the narrative reproduction is related to the interplay between image, text and liturgy. During the Eucharistic celebration, the community commemorates the events of Christ’s life. The Anaphora, the culminating point of the Eucharist, explains Germain de Constantinople (death 733) in his Historica Ecclesiastica, is the commemoration of the life, death and resurrection of Christ, so that we may be purified from our sins and sanctified.81 The Eucharist is above all the memorial of the Passion and death of Christ, made possible by the Incarnation. The pictures in the churches accentuate Christ’s Infancy and the Passion as well as the Resurrection. The setting functions as one of the elements of the ritual illustrating the episodes of Christ’s life. The connection between the apocryphal episodes and the liturgy is guaranteed by the Protevangelium of James, which from the eighth century onwards provides the source of inspiration for the liturgical hymns and sermons associated with important feasts.82 In Cappadocia, the continuous bands of narrations are specific, preferring the Childhood cycle and scenes of Mary. These sequences are permanently and significantly influenced by apocryphal sources. This, in turn, can be related to the Protevangelium respectively to the liturgy. With regard to the specificity of Cappadocia, however, it must be noted that Cappadocia has a wealth of evidence for periods, so for the ninth to the eleventh centuries, which are not so well represented in Constantinople and other centres.83

Jolivet-Lévy, La Cappadoce médiévale, 186. St. Germanus of Constantinople on the Divine Liturgy, ed. Paul Meyendorff (Crestwood: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1984), 96-99. Jolivet-Lévy, Les Églises, 338; Jolivet-Lévy, La Cappadoce médiévale, 180. 82 Cunningham, “The Use,” 174. 83 Ousterhout, Visualizing Community, 177. 80 81

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The sequence of Mary’s life and the early episodes of Christ’s life in the Church decoration from the eleventh century onwards The program of the churches from the eleventh century onwards is more selective, consisting of specified series of liturgical pictures designed to illustrate the major feast of the Orthodox calendar.84 The very abbreviated Christological cycle insists on the Incarnation and the Resurrection. The north nave of the Karabaş Kilisesi in Soğanlı, dated by an inscription to 1060-61, for example, offers a cycle limited to the Annunciation, the Visitation, and the Presentation of Christ in the Temple; the character is liturgical and no longer narrative.85 The different system with individual scenes isolated and framed fits within the new architectural setting of the cross-in-square type Church.86 Indeed, as the new Church type entered the architectural vocabulary, a relatively standardized program of interior decoration came with it.87 The program is characterized by the suppression of purely apocryphal episodes (Joseph’s reproaches and the Trial of Water) and by the abandonment of the strict chronological succession of episodes in favour of a hierarchical distribution of images.88 The Mariological cycle is limited to the images of the Nativity of the Virgin and the Presentation of the Virgin in the Temple.89 Already in the Church of the Theotokos (Göreme n. 9, first half of the tenth century), the Virgin’s Presentation in the Temple is the only one that symbolizes the Virgin’s Childhood, Koroff, 168, 223-227; Jolivet-Lévy, La Cappadoce médiévale, 185-186. Rodley, Cave monasteries, 193-202; Restle, Die byzantinische Wandmalerei I, 46-48, 162-164; Jolivet-Lévy, Les Églises, 266-270; Jolivet-Lévy, La Cappadoce médiévale, 297; Thierry, La Cappadoce, n. 47; Jolivet-Lévy, Ertuğ, Sacred Art, 118-123, Pl. 8589; Jolivet-Lévy, La Cappadoce, 272-277 ; Ousterhout, Visualizing Community, 229-232. 86 Ousterhout, Visualizing Community, 221. 87 H. Maguire, “The Cycle of Images in the Church,” in Heaven on Earth: Art and the Church in Byzantium, ed. Linda Safran (University Park: The Pennsylvania State University Press, 1998), 121-151. 88 Jolivet-Lévy, La Cappadoce médiévale, 199-200. 89 Jolivet-Lévy, La Cappadoce médiévale, 199, 306; Skhirtzladze, “Apocryphal Cycle,” 111. For the Presentation of the Virgin in the Temple: Jolivet-Lévy, La Cappadoce médiévale, 308-310; Cunningham, “The Use,” 174. However, this scene is relatively seldom shown. 84 85

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occupying the complete northern band of the vault.90 The unique iconography emphasizes the episode of the angel’s nourishment, which is depicted next to the Prothesis. Thus, the Eucharistic connotation is evident. The feast of the Presentation of the Virgin in the Temple was probably introduced in Constantinople in the eighth century and its increasing importance in the liturgical calendar contributed to the success of the image of the Virgin.91 In Saklı Kilise (Göreme n. 2, middle of the eleventh century) the Nativity scene (Fig. 10) unfolds on the top of the south wall and on the adjoining wall, to the west, the Dormition of the Virgin Mary.92 The two scenes are related to each other by making visual parallels. In Sarıca Kilise in Ürgüp for example the three episodes of the life of Mary, the Nativity, the Presentation in the Temple and the Koimesis, composing a little cycle of the Virgin, correspond to the three main feasts of the Virgin. The Presentation in the Temple is shown in the Prothesis.93 The distribution of the scenes is an echo of the rhetorical and liturgical texts which underline the antithesis between the Nativity of Christ and his Passion and Resurrection.94 Christ’s Childhood and Passion/Resurrection illustrate the fundamental dogmas of the Incarnation and Redemption. Often the Nativity and Crucifixion express the two main dogmas and summarize the economy of salvation are confronted, occupying prominent places, as in Saklı Kilise, in Elmalıet or in Karanlık Kilise (Göreme n. 2, 19, 23; all three Churches from the middle of the eleventh century).95

Restle, Die byzantinische Wandmalerei I, 38, 117-119, II, 124-133; Jolivet-Lévy, Les Églises, 109-111; Jolivet-Lévy, La Cappadoce médiévale, 287, 308-309; JolivetLévy, La Cappadoce, 23-25. 91 Cunningham, “The Use,” 167. 92 Jolivet-Lévy, Les Églises, 85-87; Henry Maguire, Art and Eloquence in Byzantium (Princeton: University Press, 19942), 65-66. 93 Lafontaine-Dosogne, L’Iconographie, 206. 94 Lafontaine-Dosogne, L’Iconographie, 261-284; Wiemer-Enis, “Die Sarıca Kilise”: 415-429. For the antithesis: Maguire, Art and Eloquence, 91-108. 95 Jolivet-Lévy, La Cappadoce médiévale, 185, 294-295; Ousterhout, Visualizing Community, 244-255. 90

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Conclusions The recognition of Mary’s title as “Theotokos” at the Council of Ephesus (431) was a response to the Christological dispute over the two natures of Christ. Then, from that period on, we see the multiplication of hymns and homilies in honour of the Virgin Mary as well as the organization of feasts dedicated to various important events in her life.96 The liturgical hymns and sermons underline the Virgin’s essential role in the Incarnation of Christ. To understand the popularity of the apocryphal scenes in the paintings of Cappadocia from the ninth century on, it is important to know that the Protevangelium of James features prominently in the eighth-century sermons honouring feasts that the apocryphal text itself inspired; since the middle of the sixth century, liturgical writers began to refer to the Protevangelium for inspiration.97 Cunningham showed that after centuries in which the text was widely known, preachers and hymnographers appear to have accepted it wholeheartedly as a part of holy tradition.98 For Cappadocia, the resultant conclusion is that the apocrypha enjoyed particular popularity because of the cult of Mary.99 The growing interest in the cult of Mary from the sixth century on correlates with the liturgical use of the Protevangelium.100 This is the main argument why the apocryphal images of the Virgin and the Infancy of Christ were so widely and narratively present in the Church programs in Cappadocia, contemporary to the use of the text in liturgy. The Protevangelium has been the source of inspiration for many narrative I. Kalavrezou, “Images of the Mother of God: When the Virgin Mary became Meter Theou,” DOP 44 (1990): 165-172; M. Fassler, “The first Marian Feast in Constantinople and Jerusalem. Chant Texts, Readings, and Homiletic Literature,” in The Study of Medieval Chant, ed. Peter Jeffery (Woodbridge: The Boydell Press, 2001), 25-87; A. Cameron, “The Cult of the Virgin in Late Antiquity: Religious Development and Myth-Making,” in The Church and Mary, ed. Robert Norman Swanson (Woodbridge: The Boydell Press, 2004), 1-21; D. F. Wright, “From ‘God-Bearer’ to ‘Mother of God’ in Later Fathers,” in ed. Robert Norman Swanson, The Church and Mary (Woodbridge: The Boydell Press, 2004), 22-30. 97 Cunningham, “The Use,” 166; Horn, “The Protevangelium”: 225-226. 98 Cunningham, “The Use,” 177. 99 Elliot, Cartlidge, Art, 21-23. 100 Cunningham, “The Use,” 165; Horn, “The Protevangelium”: 225-226. 96

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details in the depictions. Furthermore, the pictures occupy important placement in the Churches in connection with their liturgical function.101 The placements as well as the associated inscriptions refer to the liturgy, the inspiration of which comes from the Protevangelium and which was based on the cult of the Theotokos. The images visualizing the Marian feast benefit from a very obvious location. Due to the important role of the Protevangelium of James in the formation of the continuous picture cycle, Kostof’s argument that an illustrated Gospel book served as a model when the murals were designed can be supported.102 From the ninth century on, the use of the apocrypha as a source for the Mariological and Christological scenes in the programs in Cappadocia is striking and parallels are only found in Georgian murals.103 The development of these themes reflects the desire to insist on the role of Mary which was known from the liturgy. In Georgia as well, the literary works recounting the life of the Theotokos had been translated in the early stage of development of local ecclesiastical literature.104 According to the literary tradition the country was falling by lot to the Mother of God.105 Georgia’s interest in the sources reflecting the life of the Virgin and Infancy of Christ is also attested by the local artistic tradition in the form of separate scenes or complete cycles.106 As illustrated by Skhirtladze, the place held by the Virgin in Georgian medieval culture

Ousterhout, Visualizing Community, 217. Kostof, Caves of God, 183-184. 103 Skhirtzladze, “Apocryphal Cycle,” 103-117. To the early early representations of the Mother of God in Georgia: K. Sabashvili, “Early Images of the Mother of God in Georgian Art (5th – 10th centuries),” Ikon 10 (2017), 63-72. 104 For the Georgian evidence of the Protevangelium of James: Horn, “The Protevangelium”: 232-237. 105 For the literary works recounting her life and their translations: Korneli Kekelidze, Dzveli kartuli literaturis istoria (T’bilisi: G. Č’ubinašvilis Center, 1980), 441-443. The Life of the Virgin of St. Maximos was translated into Georgian by St. Euthymios the Athonite at the turn of the tenth and eleventh centuries. 106 Skhirtzladze, “Apocryphal Cycle,” 103. With Georgian examples. In earliest Georgian murals containing life story subjects of the Virgin are found in Otkhta Eklesia (turn of the 970-80s): Zaza Skhirtzladze, The Frescoes of Otkhta Eklesia (Tbilisi: Sakartvelos Sapatriarkos Saeklesio Xelovnebis Kvelvis Centri, 2009). In the mural paintings the depictions of the life of the Virgin are encountered more frequently beginning from the first half of the thirteenth century onwards. 101 102

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conforms to her exceptional representations in wall paintings of the medieval Georgian churches.107 The analysis of the programs in Cappadocia shows that the narration was a concern, but the selection of topics of the life of Mary and the Childhood of Christ and their relation to the whole program of the murals display semantic accents connected to specific realities, linked to the relevant liturgy and the rite. Having selected mainly episodes of the Infancy of Christ and Mariological cycle scenes, the specific theological idea of the murals was accentuated. The concept of the Coming of the Lord is pushed to the forefront.108 From this it can be concluded that the intention of these images came from the liturgical changes of Constantinople in connection with the institution of the Mariological feasts. In Cappadocia there was not only lively artistic activity due to the cult of Mary, but also, when compared to other regions, one very wellpreserved. References Primary sources Elliot, James Keith. The Apocryphal New Testament, A Collection of Apocryphal Christian Literature in an English Translation based on M. R. James. Oxford: The Clarendon Press, 1993. Hennecke, Edgar , Schneemelcher, Wilhelm, Markschies, Christoph ed. Antike christliche Apokryphen in deutscher Übersetzung. 1: Evangelien und Verwandtes . Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2012. St. Germanus of Constantinople on the Divine Liturgy. ed. Paul Meyendorff. Crestwood: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1984. Zevros, George T. The Protevangelium of James. Greek Text, English Translation, Critical Introduction. London: Bloomsburry, 2019.

Secondary literature Arsal, S. Y. “A Scene from Asia Minor: The Trial by Water.” Synergies 2 (2009): 51-57. Cameron, A. “The Cult of the Virgin in Late Antiquity: Religious Development and Myth-Making.” In The Church and Mary. ed. Robert Norman Swanson. 1-21. Woodbridge: The Boydell Press, 2004. 107 108

Skhirtzladze, “Apocryphal Cycle,” 103-117. Ibid., 108. 111

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Cormack, R. “The Archaic Group of Wall Paintings.” JBAA 30 (1967): 19-36. Cunningham, M.. “The Use of the Protevangelion of James in 8 th-Century Homilies on the Mother of God.” In The Cult of the Mother of God in Byzantium. Text and Images, ed. Leslie Brubaker, Mary Cunningham, 163-178 .London: Ashgate Publishing, 2011. Dagron, G. “Holy Images and Likeness.” DOP 45 (1991): 23-33. Jerphanion, Guillaume de. “La formule magique Sator Arepo ou Rotas Opera.” La Voix des Monuments : Études d’archéologie, nouvelle série (1938): 38-94. _____. Les églises rupestres de Cappadoce, I, 1 .Paris: Geuthner, 1925-1942. Elliot, James Keith, Cartlidge, David. Art and the Christian Apocrypha .London: Routledge, 2001. Fassler, M. “The first Marian Feast in Constantinople and Jerusalem. Chant Texts, Readings, and Homiletic Literature.” In The Study of Medieval Chant. ed. Peter Jeffery, 25-87 .Woodbridge: The Boydell Press, 2001.. Gain, Benoît. L’Église de Cappadoce au IVe siècle d’après la correspondance de Basile de Césarée (330-379). Rome: Pontificium Institutum Studiorum Orientalium, 1985. Jastrzębowska, Elżbieta. Bild und Wort: Das Marienleben und die Kindheit Jesu in der christlichen Kunst vom 4. bis 8. Jh. und ihre apokryphen Quellen . Warsaw: Uniwersytet Warszawski, 1992. Horn, C. “The Protevangelium of James and Its Reception in the Caucasus.” Scrinium 14 (2018): 223-238. Jolivet-Lévy, Catherine , Ertuğ, Ahmet. Sacred Art of Cappadocia. Byzantine Murals from the 6th to 13th Centuries. Istanbul: Ertuğ & Kocabiyit 2006. Jolivet-Lévy, Catherine. Les Églises byzantines de Cappadoce. Le programme iconographique de l’abside et de ses abords.Paris: CNRS, 1991. _____. La Cappadoce médiévale: Images et Spiritualité. Paris: Zodiaque, 2001. _____.“Tokalı kilise Revisited: New Considerations on Christ’s Ministry in the New Church.” In Uluslarası Nevşehir Tarih ve Kültür Sempozyumu. ed. Adem Öger, 131-141 .Ankara: 2012. _____. La Cappadoce. Un siècle après G. de Jerphanion. Paris: Geuthner, 2015. _____. “Inscriptions et images dans les églises byzantines de Cappadoce. Visibilité/lisibilité, interactions et fonctions.” In Visibilité et Présence de l’Image dans l’Espace ecclésial. Byzance et Moyen Âge occidental, ed. Sulamith Brodbeck, Anne-Orange Poilpré, 377-408. Paris: Éditions de la Sorbonne, 2019. Kalavrezou, I. “Images of the Mother of God: When the Virgin Mary became Meter Theou.” DOP 44 (1990): 165-172. Kekelidze, Korneli Dzveli kartuli literaturis istoria . T’bilisi: G. Č’ubinašvilis Center, 1980. Kostof, Spiro. Caves of God. The Monastic Environment of Byzantine Cappadocia. Cambridge: MIT Press, 1972. 112

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Lafontaine-Dosogne, J. “Sarıca kilise en Cappadoce.” Cahiers Archéologiques 12 (1962), 263-284. _____. “L’Illustration du cycle des Mages suivant l’homélie sur la Nativité attribuée à Jean Damascène.” Le Muséon 100 (1987): 211-224. _____. L’Iconographie de l’Enfance de la Vierge dans l’Empire byzantin. Bruxelles: Académie royale de Belgique, 1992. _____. “Le rappresentazioni della vita della vergine e dell’infanzia di Cristo nelle scultore e nei moisici di San Marco.” In San Marco – spetti storici e agiografici, ed. Antonio Niero.343-369, Venice: Giardini, 1996.. Ledit, Joseph. Marie dans la liturgie de Byzance. Paris: Beauchesne, 1976. Mačabeli, Kiti. Early Medieval Georgian Stone Crosses. T’bilisi: G. Č’ubinašvilis Center, 2008. Maguire, Henry. Art and Eloquence in Byzantium. Princeton: University Press, 1994. _____. “The Cycle of Images in the Church.” In Heaven on Earth: Art and the Church in Byzantium. ed. Linda Safran, 121-151. University Park: The Pennsylvania State University Press, 1998. Megaw, Arthur Hubert Stanley, Hawkins, J., Ernst. The Church of the Panagia Kanakariá Lythrankomi in Cyprus. Its Mosaics and Frescoes. Washington: Dumbarton Oaks, 1977. Ousterhout, Robert G. Visualizing Community. Art, Material Culture, and Settlement in Byzantine Cappadocia. Washington: Dumbarton Oaks Studies 46, 2017. Parani, M. “The Romanos Ivory and the New Tokalı Kilise: Imperial Costume as a Tool for Dating Byzantine Art.” Cahiers Archéologiques 49 (2001): 15-28. Patlagean, É. “Remarques sur la Diffusion et la Production des Apocryphes dans le Monde Byzantin.” Apocrypha 2 (1991), 155-163. Restle, Marcell. Die byzantinische Wandmalerei in Kleinasien, I-III. Recklinghausen: Aurel Bongers, 1967. Rodley, Lyn. “The Pigeon House Church, Çavuşin.” JÖB 33 (1983): 301-339. _____. Cave monasteries of Byzantine Cappadocia. Cambridge: University Press, 1985. Sabashvili, K. “Early Images of the Mother of God in Georgian Art (5 th – 10th centuries).” Ikon 10 (2017), 63-72. Sacopoulo, Marina. La Theotokos à la mandorle de Lythrankomi. Paris: G.-P. Maisonneuve & Larose, 1975. Schapiro, M. “The Frescoes of Castelseprio.” In Late Antique, Early Christian and Mediaeval Art: Selected Papers. New York: George Braziller, 1979. 67-114. Skhirtzladze, Zaza. The Frescoes of Otkhta Eklesia. Tbilisi: Sakartvelos Sapatriarkos Saeklesio Xelovnebis Kvelvis Centri, 2009. _____. “Apocryphal Cycle of the Virgin in Medieval Georgian Murals.” In Σύμμεικτα. ed. Ivan Stevović, 103-117. Belgrade: University of Belgrade, 2012. 113

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Strycker, Émile de. La forme la plus ancienne du Protévangile de Jacques. Bruxelles: Société des Bollandistes, 1961. Thierry, Michel and Nicole. Nouvelles églises rupestres de Cappadoce. Région du Hasan Daği. Paris: C. Klincksieck, 1963. _____. “Église de Kizil-Tchoukour, chapelle iconoclaste, chapelle de Joachim et Anne.” Monuments et Mémoires. Fondation Eugène Piot 50 (1958): 105-146. Thierry, Nicole. “Iconographie inédite en Cappadoce. Le cycle de la Conception et l’enfance de la Vierge à Kizil Tshoukour.” In Akten des XI. Byzantinistenkongresses, ed. Franz Dölger, Hans Georg Beck.620-623. München: C. H. Beck, 1960. _____. “Notes critiques à propos des peintures rupestres de Cappadoce.” REB 26 (1968) : 337-366. _____. “Identification de deux ivoires paléochrétiens.” Journal des Savants (1978): 185-194. _____. Haut Moyen-Âge en Cappadoce. Les églises de la région de Çavuşin, I .Paris: Geuthner, 1983. _____. “L’Illustration des Apocryphes dans les Églises de Cappadoce.” Apocrypha 2 (1991): 217-247. _____. Haut Moyen-Âge en Cappadoce. Les églises de la région de Çavuşin, II .Paris: Geuthner, 1994. _____. “L’Iconographie cappadocienne de l’affront fait à Anne d’après le Protévangile de Jacques.” Apocrypha 2 (1996): 261-272. Thierry, Nicole. La Cappadoce de l’Antiquité au Moyen-Âge. Turnhout: Brepols 2002. _____. “Le devenir du carré magique “sator” en Cappadoce dite archaïque.” Res Orientales 14 (2002): 267-273. Uyar, T. “L’église de l’Archangélos à Cemil; le décor de la nef sud et le renouveau de la peinture byzantine en Cappadoce au début du XIII e siècle.” Δελτίον της χριστιανικής αρχαιολογικής εταιρείας 29 (2008): 119-129. _____. “Thirteenth-Century Byzantine Painting in Cappadocia: New Evidence.” In Change in the Byzantine World in the Twelfth and Thirteenth Century. First International Sevgi Gönül Byzantine Studies Symposium, ed. Ayla Ödekan, Engin Akyürek, Nevra Necipoğlu, 617-625. Istanbul: Anamed, 2010. Warland, Rainer.“Das Templon der Neuen Tokalı Kilise in Göreme, Kappadokien.” In Λιθόστρωτον. Studien zur Byzantinischen Kunst und Geschichte. Festschrift für Marcell Restle, ed. Brigitt Borkopp, Thomas Steppan, 325-332. Stuttgart: A. Hiersemann, 2000. _____. Byzantinisches Kappadokien. Darmstadt: Ph. von Zabern, 2013. Epstein, Ann Wharton. Tokalı Kilise. Tenth-Century Metropolitan Art in Byzantine Cappadocia. Washington: Dumbarton Oaks, 1986.

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Weigel, Thomas. Le colonne del ciborio dell’altare maggiore di San Marco a Venezia.Venice: Centro Tedesco di Studi Veneziani, 2000. Weissbrod, Ursula. “Hier liegt der Knecht Gottes…”: Gräber in byzantinischen Kirchen und ihr Dekor (11. bis 15. Jahrhundert): unter besonderer Berücksichtigung der Höhlenkirchen Kappadokiens. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2003. Weitzmann, Kurt. The Fresco Cycle of S. Maria Di Castelseprio. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1951. Wiemer-Enis, H. “Die Sarıca Kilise. Eine Kirche der spätbyzantinischen Zeit in Kappadokien.” Istanbuler Mitteilungen 47 (1997): 415-429. ______. “Zur Datierung der Malerei der Neuen Tokalı in Göreme.” Byzantinische Zeitschrift 91 (1998), 92-102. Wright, D. F. “From ‘God-Bearer’ to ‘Mother of God’ in Later Fathers.” In The Church and Mary, ed. Robert Norman Swanson, 22-30. Woodbridge: The Boydell Press, 2004.

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The Impact of Apocryphal Sources on the Annunciation in Medieval Art Marilyn Gasparini Independent Researcher, USA

Apocryphal sources on the Annunciation in medieval art The Virgin Mary was an essential medieval figure, and depictions of her are ubiquitous in art. Because she is mentioned only briefly in the Bible, apocryphal sources, early writings not selected for inclusion in the Bible, generate many of the details of her life. This paper presents apocryphal and other non-canonical sources as significant contributors to the depiction and interpretation of the Annunciation in medieval art. In order to appreciate what a medieval viewer might have in mind on seeing an image of the Annunciation, this paper begins by reviewing some of the contributions of non-canonical writings to the understanding of Mary, especially as she figures in the Annunciation. Following this, the paper examines how certain elements and concepts drawn from noncanonical writings help to position the image of the Annunciation as an interactive image.1

Church tradition: This chapter is based on a PowerPoint presentation for the session: “Apocryphal Iconography: Integration, Adaptation and Church Tradition” (International Medieval Congress 2019, University of Leeds). This study will not dwell specifically on the adaptation of apocryphal motifs and concepts to church tradition, still, it is evident that the stories were accepted into Church Tradition because they were illustrated in Church-sponsored art in all media in all periods. Dates of writings included: Later stories about Mary, such as those found in the Meditations on the Life of Christ or the Golden Legend, as well as earlier apocryphal stories and non-canonical writings form part of this chapter. Images selected: Images were selected to illustrate a point and are not in chronological order. 1

The Impact of Apocryphal Sources on the Annunciation in Medieval Art

Fig. 1. Simone Martini, Lippo Memmi, The Annunciation, dated 1333, Uffizi Gallery (Inv. 1890, 451, 452, 453).

Confirming the importance of apocryphal texts, the Marian Institute at Dayton considers that apocryphal writings have documentary value as they witness contemporary feeling and reverence about Mary.2 The discussion of non-canonical sources’ impact on the depiction of Mary at the Annunciation must begin with a look at the Biblical canon from which the artist drew the outlines of the scene. The Gospel of Luke provides the only canonical record of the Annunciation to Mary.3 The Annunciation is Mary’s first appearance in the New Testament, and the Biblical account of the scene does not describe her in detail. Further, she Marian Institute at Dayton, https://udayton.edu/imri/mary/a/apocryphalwritings-on-life-of-mary.php. 3 In the canonical Bible, only Luke 1:26-38 describes the Annunciation to Mary. Mathew 1:18-25 contains an annunciation to Joseph- he is told that Mary is pregnant with the Son of God. 2

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is not often seen or heard about later in the Bible, so there is little ‘official’ information with which to flesh out her persona. So, who is Mary? Is there something special about her? Who was her family? Why should she merit to bear the Christ? Early ecclesiastics puzzled over these and other questions and promptly developed logical explanations. They created an entire backstory for Mary, elements of which were taken up by artists in depictions of Mary. For example, by the second-century, the Proto-evangelism of James4 details Mary’s miraculous birth to childless parents, that she is of David’s royal blood, and that this virtuous child spent her youth in contemplation and study in the sanctuary of the temple fed by angels (Figs. 2, 3). The Proto- Evangelism of James (also known as the Infancy Gospel of James) is thought to have been written around the year 140-170 AD. See Peter Kirby, “Infancy Gospel of James,” Early Christian writings. (Placentia, Calif, 2001) for a thorough analysis of literature on history, dating and derivation of the document. He says, “According to Hock, a major development found in the Protevangelium of James is this: ‘Mary, the central character, is no longer a virgin in the ordinary sense of a young woman of marriageable age, but a virgin of extraordinary purity and unending duration… Indeed, Mary’s purity is so emphasized that it becomes thematic and thus answers the fundamental question which guides the narrative: why Mary, of all the virgins in Israel, was chosen to be the mother of the son of God. The answer: no one could have been any purer. Thus, Anna transforms Mary’s bedroom into a sanctuary where she receives no impure food and is amused by the undefiled daughters of the Hebrews (6:5). When she turns three years of age, these young women escort her to the temple in Jerusalem where she spends the next nine years in absolute purity and is even fed by the hand of an angel (7:4-8:2). When, at age twelve, she is made the ward of Joseph, she spends her time spinning thread for the temple with the other virgins from Israel (10:1-12:1).).’” Mary Clayton, The Cult of the Virgin Mary in Anglo-Saxon England (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002), Introduction, 3, credits the Proto-evangelism of James as giving rise, “either directly or indirectly, to all other legendary treatments of the topic.” I note that though the Protoevangelism of James provides a great deal of information about Mary in general that finds its way into the depiction of the Annunciation in art, the Annunciation story itself as told by the Protoevangelism of James (cited here from https://www.asu.edu/courses/rel376/totalreadings /james.pdf) differs little from the Gospel story except for adding that Mary was working the purple thread for the veil of the temple and paused to go to the well for water when Gabriel spoke to her. 4

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Fig. 2. Don Silvestro de’ Gherarducci, Manuscript Illumination with the Birth of the Virgin in an Initial G, from a Gradual, c. 1375 Metropolitan Museum of Art, (21.168). Note: this is an illustration of the non-canonical story in a liturgical book.

The seventh-century Gospel of Pseudo-Mathew revealed more of what made Mary so worthy of her role- even a virtuous example for others. He explained that as a young girl dwelling with other virgins in the temple, there was: no one more learned in the wisdom of the law of God, more lowly in humility, more elegant in singing, more perfect in all virtue. She was indeed steadfast, immovable, unchangeable, and daily advancing to perfection. No one saw her angry, nor heard her speaking evil. …She was always engaged in prayer and in searching the law… 5 Gospel of Pseudo Mathew, Chapter 6 (see entire document on URL www.newadvent.org/fathers/0848.htm). Pseudo Mathew (c 700-800) seems to be a merging of the Protoevangelism of James (140-170) and the Infancy Gospel of Thomas (c. 140-170) and was made popular in the west in the later middle ages partly through the Dominican Archbishop of Genoa, Jacob Voragine, who compiled the Golden Legend. Like the Protoevangelism of James, Pseudo Mathew provides background information about Mary not found in the Bible. The Annunciation 5

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Fig. 3. Robinet Testard, Annunciation, Book of Hours, c. 1475, France, Poitiers, Morgan Library, (MS M.1001 fol. 18r). The illustrations include apocryphal stories: Mary entering temple, an angel serving Mary a tray of food, Mary weaving.

Later, following earlier models, non-canonical stories, such as the following account explaining God’s intentions from the Meditations on the Life of Christ helped medieval Christians further understand why Mary was selected to bear Christ: Almighty God called to him the angel Gabriel, and said to him: Go to our best-beloved daughter, espoused to Joseph, the dearest to us of all our creatures, and tell her that my son story, according to Pseudo Mathew, adds to the Gospel account several concepts that inform depictions of the Annunciation: a first encounter with the angel which takes place at the well, her work as a weaver, the concept that Christ is light and that she is the means for spreading his light into the world, and the idea that her son is King. 121

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delights in her form, and hath chosen her for his mother…for I have decreed to save mankind by her means, and to blot out of my memory the injury they have done me.6 It is beyond the scope of this paper to discuss the development of the cult of Mary including the many names given her and associated roles, such as advocate, mother of mercy, or mediatrix; the hundreds of miracle legends; how she featured in liturgy, music, poetry, art, and theater; her place in the use of Books of Hours; or, in short, the growing intensity of devotion to her before and through the medieval period from the fifth to the fifteenth century. However, it is clear that much or most information about her derives from non-Biblical sources. The paragraphs below will point out several reasons behind the multifaceted awe and adoration a late medieval viewer, likely a supplicant, might have felt as he or she viewed an image of the Annunciation.7 In 431 the Church declared Mary the Theotokos, the Mother of God, to clarify that Jesus, born of a human mother, was not only divine but both human and divine.8 Before the fifth century, apocryphal stories,

St. Bonaventure, Meditations on the Life of Christ, Ch. 3, v 23, edited. (See URL for the entire document. https://archive.org/stream/stbonaventuresli00 bonauoft/stbonaventuresli00bonauoft_djvu.txt.). See note 29 below. 7 Good sources for general information about the Virgin Mary include: Marina Warner, Alone of All Her Sex the Myth and the Cult of the Virgin Mary (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016); Miri Rubin, Mother of God: a history of the Virgin Mary, (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2009); Hilda Graef, Mary: A History of Doctrine and Devotion (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1963); and Jaraslov Pelikan, Mary Through the Centuries: Her Place in the History of Culture (Yale University Press, 1996). 8 Council of Ephesus, 431. For texts of the proceedings see www.papal encyclicals.net/councils/ecum03.htm. This paper refers to the commonly accepted confluence of thought which culminated in the events surrounding the 431 Council of Ephesus officially acknowledging Mary’s title as Theotokos as an essential aspect relating to Christ's human nature. For further information see Graaf, Mary: A History of Doctrine and Devotion, 1963),101-111; The Origins of the Cult of the Virgin Mary, Chris Maunder, ed. (Burns and Oates, 2008); and Sarah Jane Boss, ed, Mary: the complete resource, (Oxford University Press, 2009), which includes two in depth articles: Sara Jane Boss, “The Title Theotokos,” 50-55; Richard Price, “Theotokos: The Title and its Significance in Doctrine and Devotion,” 56-74. 6

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such as the Transitus Mariae,9 describe her Assumption to heaven. Her Assumption, along with her motherhood of the King of Heaven, showed that she was Queen of Heaven. Indeed, in images such as in this early fifth-century Annunciation, she sits in regal splendor in a significant church mosaic commissioned by a pope (Fig. 4).10 Thus, Mary, though not divine, was seen as a powerful intimate of the heavenly hierarchy, part of the ‘family’ as Jesus’s mother. Medieval thinkers imagined the heavenly kingdom, like earthly kingdoms, as ruled by an all-powerful figure with those closest to the King having the most power and influence. In art, Mary is almost always on the right of God and is often shown the same size. She was mother and queen and logically had the proximity and power to advocate for a petitioner. Moreover, because she was fully human, she understood the foibles of humankind and would take a supplicant’s part. One of her most Transitus Mariae- see full text with comments in introduction https://archive.org/stream/apocryphasyriac00goog/apocryphasyriac00goog_ djvu.txt. See: Mary Clayton, Cult of the Virgin Mary, introduction, 8, for a summary and bibliography of transitus texts. Additionally, Clayton, Cult of the Virgin Mary, introduction,11, n. 42, quotes a late 11th c. transitus manuscript from H. Barre, Les homeliares carolingiens, 22, “…Today the virgin of virgins, who deserved to bear in her womb the king of glory, ascended to heaven. Rejoice, for she reigns with Christ forever. And let her intercede for us to the Lord Jesus Christ, so that we may deserve to possess eternal life forever and ever.” See Stephen Shoemaker, “The Ancient Dormition Apocrypha and the Origins of Marian Piety: Early Evidence of Marian Intercession from Late Ancient Palestine,” in Presbeia Theotokou: the intercessory role of Mary across times and places in Byzantium (4th-9th century). Ed. Leen Mari Peltomaa, Pauline Allen, and Andreas Külzer. (Wien: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 2015), 23-40. 10 This image prominently decorates the triumphal arch of one of the first major churches in Rome dedicated to Mary. Built a few years after the Council of Ephesus and dedicated by Pope Sixtus III (430-40), the image shows Mary enthroned and dressed as a Byzantine princess. She is working the silk or wool as described by the Proto- evangelism of James and other non-canonical texts where Mary is considered a queen, with the power of advocacy that position entails. In an early example, St. Athanasius, in Prayer to the Mother of God, 2, c. 373, says, “It becomes you to be mindful of us, as you stand near to Him who granted you all graces, for you are the Mother of God and our Queen. Help us for the sake of the King, the Lord God Master who was born of you.” 9

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prominent and earliest roles was that of an advocate. Also, she was credited by early thinkers with an active role in the redemption of humankind.

Fig. 4. Annunciation, Triumphal Arch, Santa Maria Maggiore, Rome, c. 432. Early image of the Annunciation showing Mary enthroned, dressed as royalty, and in the act of working the silk as described in non-canonical texts.

Early writers drew from the short Biblical description of the Annunciation the conclusion that it was Mary’s free decision to agree to God’s will that enabled the salvation of humankind. The rationale for this was as follows: God requested through the angel Gabriel that Mary bear the Christ child. She agreed- and by this obedience to God’s will reversed the action of Eve who through disobedience to God’s will had brought on man’s eviction from the garden of Eden- opening up the possibility of damnation. From as early as the second century, Mary was already described by St. Irenaeus of Lyons as the new Eve.11 The fourthcentury Saint Augustine wrote- “…a poison was handed to mankind through a woman [Eve], by the Redemption man was given salvation also through a woman [Mary].”12 This was celebrated by saying she changed the letters of E-V-A, Latin name of Eve, to A-V-E, the honoring salutation given to Mary at the Annunciation. From as early as the ninth century, the popular hymn Ave 11 12

St. Irenaeus of Lyon, Against Heresies, Book 3, Ch. 22. St. Augustine of Hippo, Christian Combat, 22.24. 124

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Maris Stella,13 points out that by her obedience at the Annunciation, Mary rectified the deeds of Eve. In this hymn and elsewhere she is beseeched as an advocate and praised as a paragon of virtue. (Fig. 5, 6) The importance of the Annunciation in the story of salvation means that the Annunciation scene figures in medieval Church-sponsored art in all media including stone lintels, baptismal fonts, lecterns, panel paintings, manuscripts, ivories, jewelry, textiles, wooden carvings, frescos and mosaics. From the fourteenth century, painted altarpieces might feature a central narrative scene of the Annunciation (Fig. 1). But those are not the only instances of its appearance because often when one sees the Madonna enthroned with the Christ Child in her lap, or, perhaps a Coronation of the Virgin as she is received into heaven, an Annunciation scene is present in the predella beneath or in roundels or cusps above (Figs. 7, 8). As an indication of its importance, because the Annunciation and Mary's acceptance began a new era, the new year was calculated from March 25, nine months before Christmas, from the seventh century throughout the medieval period.14

Ave Maris Stella was a traditional plainsong chant. It would be hard to overestimate its pervasiveness in medieval use. I am not aware of any study of the hymn, but my notes find it mentioned in passing in many circumstances. For example, Denis Vincent Wiseman in Wiseman, Denis Vincent “The Marian Spirituality of the Medieval Religious Orders: Devotion to Mary Among the Dominicans in the Thirteenth Century,” Marian Studies 52, Article 13, 3 (2001) quotes Brother Bonvisus who indicates it was a favorite hymn of Dominic, founder of the Dominican Order of Preachers. It figures in many Marian Legends, for example, sailors caught in a deadly storm try everything, including praying to God but to no avail. Someone suggests they sing the Ave Maris Stella and as soon as they began the storm abated. As Robert Greenberg describes the development of polyphonic music in How to Listen to and Understand Great Music: the Greenberg Lectures (Springfield, VA: Teaching Company, 1996), he mentions that to form polyphony a melody must overlay a base melody, one very familiar to the listener. He says the first base melody was Ave Maris Stella as it was known to all. 14 In some countries, March 25 began the new year officially (there was parallel dating) until quite late, for example, until 1752 for Britain and its colonies. For background see Malcolm Freiberg, “Going Gregorian, 1582-1752: A Summary View,” The Catholic Historical Review 86, no. 1 (2000): 1-19. 13

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Fig. 5. Giovanni di Paolo, The Annunciation and Expulsion from Paradise, National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C., (1939.1.223), c. 1435. Note: Adam and Eve at left. Mary as the New Eve, overturns by her obedience to God’s request, the evil brought to humankind by Eve’s disobedience of God’s will.

Fig. 6. Olivuccio di Ciccarello (Carlo da Camerino), Madonna of Humility with the Temptation of Eve, c. 1400, Cleveland Museum of Art (1916.795). 126

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Fig 7. Sienese Dyptych, Enthroned Madonna, Crucifixion, c. 1405, Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1975.1.22c. Note Annunciation in roundels at top.

Fig. 8. Giusto de’ Menabuoi, The Coronation of the Virgin, 1367, National Gallery, London, (NG701). The Annunciation is depicted above to the right and left. 127

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In summary, to gain an understanding of what a medieval viewer might have had in mind upon seeing the depiction of the Annunciation, one of the key events of Christianity, we have very briefly reviewed the story of the Annunciation from the Bible canon followed by some examples of non-canonical texts’ explanations of what made Mary worthy. We saw that in addition to the Church’s designation Mother of God, non- canonical texts establish Mary as a powerful advocate in her role as Queen of Heaven, as a paragon of virtue to be emulated and add to the Annunciation’s significance by pointing out Mary’s role as the enabler of salvation. The Annunciation in art as an aid to personal worship There are many ways to approach the depiction of the Annunciation in art. Here we will select a few of the subject’s many early to high medieval motifs enhanced by non-canonical writing and will focus on those noncanonical concepts leading to the use of the image of the Annunciation as an aid to personal worship. It was meaningful as a devotional image for both laypersons and the growing number of monastics. Each of the three participants will be considered along with a key motif or two: the Virgin’s pose and book, Gabriel's scroll or banner, and the Holy Spirit’s direction. Mary: her poses and the motif of the book Artists generally depict Mary in one of three sequential attitudes each informed by non-canonical writings. First, as Gabriel came to Mary, she was troubled; second-she asks how all this is to come about, and third, after the angel told her the Holy Spirit would overshadow her, she agrees. First, though in some images, Mary does look perturbed at the appearance of the angel, as the Meditations on the Life of Christ explains, she was not troubled because of the presence of an angel because an angel had fed her all during her childhood. It was the message that was alarming. Her hands are in a gesture of protective surprise (Figs. 1, 9).15 “…She was disturbed at the angel’s speech, To hear herself commended- for that she was full of grace, that the Lord was with her, that she was blessed above the rest of her sex was more than one so rich in humility could hear without a 15

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Fig. 9. Duccio, Annunciation, c. 1308-11, National Gallery of Art, London, from Maestà Predella Panels, (NG 1139).

In the second action, Mary of the apocryphal story did not just accept what was puzzling but asked a pertinent question, “How can this be as I know not a man?” Her hands gesture her awe and even a pause for questioning. (Figs. 10, 11, 19, 20). The meaning of gestures, such as those used by orators, priests, or by monks bound to a vow of silence, is likely to have been familiar to most people from earliest tradition. As drama with religious theme grew from at least the tenth century, by the fourteenth century, liturgical drama and medieval mystery plays of the Annunciation event, largely based on apocryphal writings, would have blush of concern. Her discomposure then was wholly the effect of a virtuous and becoming bashfulness…” St. Bonaventure, Meditations on the Life of Christ, Ch III, 25-25. Full-text URL: https://archive.org/stream/stbonaventuresli00bonauoft/stbonaventuresli00b onauoft_djvu.tx. 129

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been familiar to all viewers. There seems to be a significant relationship between these dramatic productions and poses and gestures seen in depictions of the Annunciation.16

Fig. 10. Annunciation, c. 1190, San Piero Scheraggio Pulpit Relief, Florence, Metropolitan Museum of Art, (60.140). For a discussion of liturgical and popular dramas, See Karl Young, The Drama of the Medieval Church, two vols. (Oxford, 1933), 2:246. 47; Reinhard Strohm, Music in Late Medieval Bruges, rev. Ed., Oxford Monographs on Music (Oxford, 1990), 34, 46, 52, 53, 57, 58; and, Theresa Coletti, “Devotional Iconography in the N-Town Marian Plays,” Speculum Comparative Drama, 11, no. 1 (1977): 22-44. For importance and use of gesture, see Clifford Davidson, Gesture in Medieval Drama and Art. Kalamazoo (Michigan: Medieval Institute, Western Michigan University, 2001); Debby Banham, Monasteriales Indicia: The Anglo-Saxon Monastic Sign Language (Norfolk: Anglo-Saxon Books, 2003); Jon Hall, “Cicero and Quintilian on the Oratorial Use of Hand gestures,” The Classical Quarterly 2, Vol. 54. No. 1, 143-160 (Cambridge University Press, 2004). (FROM N-TOWN PLAYS OF C 1460’S) The character MARY speaks: “Angel, I say to you, In what manner of wise shall this be? For knowing of man, I have none now; I have evermore kept, and shall, my virginity. 16

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Fig. 11. Unknown English artist, Annunciation, c. 1460 Alabaster Panel, Victoria & Albert Museum, (A.54-1946) © Victoria and Albert Museum, London.

In the third action of the Annunciation, Mary obediently declares, arms crossed in her lap or across her chest in submission, “I am the handmaid of the Lord” (Figs. 3, 5, 12, 13, 18a). According to noncanonical sources, as earlier seen, Mary's total acceptance of the will of God enables the salvation of humankind. Both laypersons and monastics were urged to consider Mary a paragon of virtue and to imitate her.17 As medieval viewers beheld an image of the obedient Virgin at the Annunciation; her example could have inspired them to submit themselves to Divine will. 17Among

those urging Mary as a paragon of virtue was St. Bede the Venerable, 8th c., “Now a most excellent and salutary custom has arisen in the holy Church: daily Mary’s hymn is sung by all, together with the psalms of evening praise, so that a renewed remembrance of the Lord’s incarnation enkindles the hearts of the faithful to feelings of devotion and a more frequent meditation on the example of the Lord’s Mother makes them strong, firmly established in the virtues” (In Visitatione B.M. – PL 94, 22A, cited by Luigi Gambero, Mary in the Middle Ages: the Blessed Virgin Mary in the Thought of Medieval Latin Theologians, (San Francisco, CA: Ignatius Press, 2005). 131

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Fig. 12. Servite monk assisted by an angel, Annunciation, 1252, Basilica della Santissima Annunziata, Florence. Note: Mary’s response is written backwards so God can read the words.

Fig. 13. Andrea Cavalcanti, Annunciation, 1445, from the pulpit of Santa Maria Novella, Florence.

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Laura Miles describes that from about the ninth century, artists depict Mary with a book18 in keeping with apocryphal accounts of her learning and studiousness. A significant motif, a book was a precious, special object, something essential to a pious layperson or a monastic, as reading the scripture was considered a necessary act of meditative prayer19 (Figs. 1, 3, 9, 13, 14, 15a, 17). The Meditations on the Life of Christ, avidly read by the lay public but written as a handbook for Franciscan novitiate nuns, describes Saint Cecile’s pious reading of Bible passages. This advice gives us an insight into what was current thinking within monasteries and abbeys, and, also furnishes a model for laypeople wishing to achieve sanctity: On these she meditated day and night, and such was the fervor of her heart, and the ardor of her affections, that she did not content herself with a single perusal, but was accustomed to read the most striking parts many times over, and carefully deposit them in the sanctuary of her heart. The like practice I recommend to you, as I look upon it to be the most material branch of spiritual study, and even the most beneficial of all devout exercises, and that which is most capable of leading you to the summit of Christian perfection.20 Miles remarks that while “…representations of Mary’s solitary reading were a memetic devotional moment for enclosed religious women,”21 the reading Virgin encouraged growing numbers of lay literate men and women.

Laura Saetveit Miles, “The Origins and Development of the Virgin Mary’s Book at the Annunciation,” Speculum 89:3 (2014): 632-669. 19 For reading by monastics see Holly Flora, The Devout Belief of the Imagination: The Paris Meditationes Vitae Christi and Female Franciscan Spirituality in Trecento Italy, (Turnhout: Brepols, 2009), 83. 20 Bonaventure, Meditations on the Life of Christ, the preface. See URL: https://archive.org/stream/stbonaventuresli00bonauoft/stbonaventuresli00b onauoft_djvu.txt. 21 Laura Miles, “The Origins and Development of the Virgin Mary’s Book at the Annunciation,” 632-634. 18

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Fig. 14. Attributed to Robert Campin, Annunciation, c. 1425, Merode Altarpiece, Metropolitan Museum of Art, (1956-56.70a-c).

So, the motif of the book, the Word of God, seen at the Annunciation where the Word was made flesh, becomes a stimulus as it reminds viewers to participate in meditative reading thereby bringing Christ into their hearts. In quite a few cases, the artist emphasizes the high level of Mary’s studiousness by mimicking the pose of Biblical writers and saints (Figs. 15a, 15b).

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Fig. 15a. Olivuccio di Ciccarello (Carlo da Camerino), Annunciation, Palazzo Ducale, Urbino, c. 1395. Gabriel approaches Mary in her study. Su autorizzazione della Galleria Nazionale delle Marche/Palazzo Ducale di Urbino

Fig. 15b. Saint John in his study, Leaf from a French Book of Hours, c.1430 National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C., (1948.11.5, NGA Miniatures 1975, no. 40, State A, Rosenwald Collection).

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Gabriel bearing a scroll The second participant, the angel Gabriel, arrives bearing a staff or rod, as God’s messenger or offering a lily honoring Mary’s purity. By the fourteenth century, Gabriel often carries a scroll or banner with the words of the angelic salutation, AVE MARIA.22 The banner is another significant motif for engaging the viewer. It encouraged the viewer to copy the Angel Gabriel and to say an AVE (Figs. 16, 17).

Fig. 16. Archangel Gabriel from a French Annunciation Group, c. 1350, Cleveland Museum, (1954.387).

After the twelfth century, as the cult of Mary increased in importance, a daily Marian liturgy was not unusual, and prayers to Mary for intercession and guidance formed part of every Christian’s day. One of the most important prayers commemorates Gabriel's salutation at the Annunciation, AVE MARIA, which was said by many literally “morning, noon and night” and which, with the Lord’s prayer and the Creed, from 1215 was one of three mandated prayers to be learned by For a full discussion of this motif, see Ann Van Dijk, “The Angelic Salutation in Early Byzantine and Medieval Annunciation Imagery,” The Art Bulletin 81:3 (1999): 420-436. 22

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every Christian.23 Indeed, many dozens of Marian legends describe the efficacy of praying an AVE to Mary at least once per day.24 The Bible originated the AVE, but it was non-canonical writing which amplified the meaning of the simple greeting making it a powerful prayer. Ann Van Dijk suggests that the image of Gabriel at the Annunciation bearing an inscribed scroll becomes a powerful stimulus for active viewing. She says, “...the angel’s kneeling posture and the words emanating from his mouth become a model of devotional practice for viewers to imitate.”25As the beholder repeated the Ave Maria prayer seen on the banner, speech made visible, he or she would imagine personally entering the scene, as Mary Carruthers explains, “calling on 23See

a concise summary of the history of the development of the Ave prayer http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/07110b.htm: “Not long after this (c. 1196) we meet a synodal decree, of Eudes de Sully, Bishop of Paris, enjoining upon the clergy to see that the “Salutation of the Blessed Virgin” was familiarly known to their flocks as well as the Creed and the Lord’s Prayer; and after this date similar enactments become frequent in every part of the world, beginning in England with the Synod of Durham in 1217.” 24 I have shortened this legend: A naughty monk prayed to Mary every morning as he passed a painting of the Madonna, but, every night, he snuck out to visit his mistress. One night as he was crossing the bridge to her lodgings, he fell into the river and drowned. The devils and angels were fighting over his soul when Mary intervened. Although he had greatly sinned against his vows, because he had faithfully recited his prayers to Mary every day, Mary brought him back to life long enough to confess his sins and be saved. “The Drowned Sacristan” (Stella Maris, no. 36) MS Bibliothkque Nationale 12593, fols.vi2i-i2iv,” condensed by this author from “The Stella Maris of John Garland: Together With a Study of Certain Collections of Mary Made in Northern France in the Twelfth and Thirteenth Centuries,” ed. Evelyn Faye Wilson, Medieval Academy of America, Publication 45 (Cambridge: Harvard University Printing Office, 1946), 175. Marian Legends were pervasive in medieval culture. Collections of lives of the saints incorporated legends for easy use by preachers, one of the most famous, the Golden Legend, includes many Marian legends. Another famous collection of legends is the Spanish Cantiagos de Santa Maria. The legends were also printed in small books for private use. Wilson's edition of The Stella Maris of John of Garland includes a basic summary of medieval sources for the legends. Vanessa R. Corcoran, “The Voice of Mary: Later Medieval Representations of Marian Communication,” published PhD dissertation, (The Catholic University of America, 2017), cites useful sources on p. 25, notes 30-36. 25 Van Dijk, “The Angelic Salutation in Early Byzantine and Medieval Annunciation Imagery,” 421. 137

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memory to experience the events as though they were happening before one’s very eyes and ears.” Caruthers further describes the function of memory as one enters into affective devotion, “looking at pictures is analogous to reading...,” and continues, “...for the author is a painter ... in that his words paint pictures in the minds of his reader... By the same token graphic forms (painted in) a book talk.”26

Fig. 17. Dunois Master, Annunciation, c. 1436. (Folio 025r from the Book of Hours of Simon de Varie - KB 74 G3), National Library of the Netherlands.

This approach of interactively viewing the Annunciation, or other artwork, cannot be overestimated. Holly Flora describes that “...a reader would be prompted to use her mind’s eye and quotes the Meditation on the Life of Christ, ‘now give heed to understand everything that was said and done, as though you had been present.’”27 Mary Carruthers, The Cult of the Virgin Mary in Anglo-Saxon England, 275-276. Holly Flora, The Devout Belief of the Imagination: the Paris Meditationes Vitae Christi and Female Franciscan Spirituality in Trecento Italy, 100. Flora notes that the quote is from her version of Meditations of the Life of Christ, 16. Flora presents a translation with illustrations and a full analysis. 26 27

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Fig. 18a. Fra Angelico, Annunciation, c. 1440, Monastery, San Marco, Florence.

Fig. 18b. Cloister of Monastery, San Marco, Florence. 139

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Using one’s imagination to connect with the Divine seems to have been especially helpful for those men and women living a monastic life. Laura Miles says that “Mary at the Annunciation represented a model of the solitude that best preserves chastity and facilitated reading and prayer.” The Meditation on the Life of Christ,28 quotes Jerome who describes the Virgin almost as if she were a nun required to keep a vigil of hours. Jerome says: “The Blessed Virgin established this rule, that in the morning she prayed until the third hour, from the third to the ninth hour she was busy spinning, and from the ninth hour she again prayed continually...” The growing numbers of monastics likely found resonance in an image of the Annunciation. The quiet, studious, cloistered life of Mary described in the apocrypha could seem to be similar to their own, and her example could be genuinely inspiring. In some paintings of the Annunciation, especially in Italy, Gabriel approaches in a loggia, not unlike the monastic cloister (Fig. 18a, 18b). The Holy Spirit and conception through the ear The final participant to be discussed is the Holy Spirit, which was often represented as a beam of light, usually bearing a dove, issuing from the hand of God. Because Mary's purity was essential to the rationale of her selection to be the Mother of God, ecclesiastical writers considered the impregnation of the Virgin in great detail. Sometimes the light seems to 28St.

Bonaventure, Meditations on the Life of Christ, Bonaventure, Book II, 20. Lawrence F. Hundersmarck provides a complete and thoughtful overview of the purpose and significance of the Meditations on the Life of Christ which he attributes to Caulibus in Lawrence F. Hundersmarck, “The Use of Imagination, Emotion, and the Will in a Medieval Classic: The Meditaciones Vite Christi.” See complete article at URL: https://www.stthomas.edu/media/catholicstudies/ center/logosjournal/archives/2003vol06/62/6-2Article.pdf, page 46, “To meet her needs, Caulibus created what would prove to be an immensely popular and influential book that had the capacity to make the Gospel account of the past dynamically alive in the present. In Meditations on the Life of Christ, the scenes of salvation are presented as eyewitness accounts. Caulibus sketches scenes with words and images that creatively fill in the details of the life of Christ and that are calculated to touch the nun’s emotions and move her will. The text seeks to make the nun see and feel, and to prompt the reform of her life by conforming it to the life of Christ.” 140

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flow broadly toward her, but interestingly quite often it heads to her ear. This concept is immensely important since it implies that Mary conceived by hearing the word of God (Figs. 1, 3, 11, 15a, 17, 19, 20).

Fig. 19. Jacopo Torriti, Annunciation, 1296, Santa Maria Maggiore, Rome.

Fig. 20. Attributed to Dominican nuns at Sankt Katharinenthal, The Annunciation in an initial R, c. 1300, Rhenish, Metropolitan Museum of Art, (1982.175). 141

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This concept explains why Mary often does not seem to look at or see the angel but only listens to him. Saint Ephrem the Syrian said: “… through her ear, the Divine Word of the Father entered and dwelt secretly in her womb.”29 The understanding that Mary conceived Christ by faith by hearing the word of God was an empowering concept for the devout Christian.30 Saint Thomas Aquinas wrote, “just as the Blessed Virgin conceived Christ in her body, so every pious soul can conceive Him spiritually.”31 We could conclude that the devout medieval Christian meditating and devotedly entering the scene of the Annunciation in his or her imagination might hope to do just that. The placing of an image of the Annunciation to the Virgin Mary over an altar, in a monastic cell, or on a private devotional triptych could help to focus the viewer’s prayers leading to a much more profound experience. Conclusion The Bible canon explained the Virgin Mary’s function as bearer of the Christ Child which led to her later title, ‘Mother of God.’ Through an extensive elaboration of that title’s significance, non-canonical sources developed an expanded view of her role so that she was seen, and represented in art, as Queen of Heaven, Advocate, and, very importantly,

St. Ephrem the Syrian, De virginitate 23, quoted in Jose Maria Salvador Gonzalez, “Per aurem intrat Christus in Mariam: An iconographic approach to the conception per aurem in Italian Trecento painting from patristic and theological sources” (De Medio Avevo 9 2016/1) 105, n. 86 and ibid. note 87 Hymni de Ecclesia, 35. 30 St. Augustine, Sermon 72/A, 7. See Vatican website URL: www.vatican.va/ spirit/documents/spirit_20001208_agostino_en.html “... Didn’t the Virgin Mary do the will of the Father? I mean, she believed by faith, she conceived by faith, she was chosen to be the one from whom salvation in the very midst of the human race would be born for us, she was created by Christ before Christ was created in her. Yes, of course, holy Mary did the will of the Father. And therefore, it means more for Mary to have been a disciple of Christ than to have been the mother of Christ.” 31 St. Thomas Aquinas, The Summa Theologiæ, Part 3, Question 30. His “question and answer” format includes this statement. Second and Revised Edition, 1920. http://www.newadvent.org/summa/4030.htm. 29

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commemorated in the many images of the Annunciation, as consenting Enabler of Salvation. Especially later in the middle ages, depictions of this key Christian event, the Annunciation, may have become a model for proper Christian action as well as an aid to interactive prayer as they reflected common non-canonical understandings: namely that her troubled stance was likely because of her maidenly modesty; her questioning pose was due to her erudition, keen intellect and wisdom; and, that her consenting acceptance of God’s will enabled the bringing of Christ into the world, thereby bringing about the salvation of humankind. We saw that by adopting a book as a Marian attribute, artists reflected non-canonical stories of her wisdom and habit of reading the Bible, presenting the reading of the Bible as a model action. Gabriel’s later attribute, the scroll bearing his greeting, the AVE, which non-canonical texts transformed into a powerful prayer, encouraged viewers to repeat that greeting and to identify personally by repeating the same phrase in praise and supplication. Finally, we saw that depictions of the Holy Spirit entering through Mary’s ear, a non-canonical concept, implied that she conceived Christ through hearing the Word of God, that is, through faith, and thus Mary portrayed a model of right action for every Christian. In short, the depiction of the Annunciation, an event of essential importance to the Christian story, was based on the Biblical canon but was amplified, clarified and given enhanced significance from the earliest apocryphal and non-canonical writings throughout the medieval period. Viewing, and through imagination entering, the Annunciation scene provided the devout Christian with a locus to engage in a meaningful prayerful interaction. References Primary sources Aquinas, Thomas (13th c). The Summa Theologiæ of St. Thomas Aquinas. Trans. Fathers of the English Dominican Province. Second and Revised Edition, 1920. Online Edition Copyright © 2017 by Kevin Knight (Part 3, question 30, objection 3). Augustine of Hippo, (4th c.), and John J. Gavigan. Christian instruction; Admonition and grace; The Christian Combat; Faith, Hope and Charity. 143

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Washington: Catholic University of America Press, 2002. (Christian Combat 22.24). Bede the Venerable, (8th c.) Visitatione B.M. – PL 94, 22A. Cited by Luigi Gambero, Mary in the Middle Ages: the Blessed Virgin Mary in the Thought of Medieval Latin Theologians. San Francisco, CA: Ignatius Press, 2005. Bonaventura, Meditations on the Life of Christ, (13/14th c). Ch III, 25-25. Full-text URL: https://archive.org/stream/stbonaventuresli00bonauoft/stbonaventuresli 00bonauoft_djvu.tx. Buono, Anthony M. The Greatest Marian Prayers: Their History, Meaning, and Usage, New York: Alba House, c1999, BX2160.2.B86, 1999, 111 (Athanasius, (4th c.), Prayer to Mary, Mother of God, 2). Cantalamessa, R., O.F.M. Cap. MARY Mirror of the Church. Trans. Frances Lonergan Villa, Collegeville. Minnesota: The Liturgical Press, 1992. (citing St. Augustine, Sermons, 72A [Denis 25], 7 [Miscellanea Agostiniana 1, 162]). Ephrem the Syrian (4th c.). De virginitate 23. Quoted from Jose Maria Salvador Gonzalez. “Per aurem intrat Christus in Mariam: An iconographic approach to the conception per aurem in Italian Trecento painting from patristic and theological sources.” De Medio Avevo 9:1 (2016). Hawk, Brandon W. The Gospel of Pseudo-Mathew and the Nativity of Mary. Eugene, Oregon: Cascade Books, 2019. Luke. Gospel of Luke (1st c., included in Canon c 4th c.). Douay-Rheims Challoner Revision, 1752. 1:26-38. Roberts, Alexander and William Rambaut. Trans. Irenaeus of Lyon (2nd c.), Against Heresies, Book 3, Ch. 22. From Ante-Nicene Fathers, Vol. 1, ed. Alexander Roberts, James Donaldson, and A. Cleveland Coxe. Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1885. Revised and edited for New Advent by Kevin Knight. http://www.newadvent.org/fathers/0103322.htm. Voragine, Jacob (13th c.). The Golden Legend: Readings on the Saints. Trans. William Granger Ryan. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2012. Walker, Alexander. Trans. Protoevangelism of James (2nd c.). In Ante-Nicene Fathers, Vol. 8, ed. Alexander Roberts, James Donaldson, and A. Cleveland Coxe (Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1886). Revised and edited for New Advent by Kevin Knight. http://www.newadvent.org/fathers/0847.htm.

Secondary literature Clayton, Mary. The Cult of the Virgin Mary in Anglo-Saxon England. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002. Coletti, Theresa. “Devotional Iconography in the N-Town Marian Plays.” Speculum Comparative Drama 11:1 (1977).

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Corcoran, Vanessa R. The Voice of Mary: Later Medieval Representations of Marian Communication. PhD dissertation. The Catholic University of America, 2017. Flora, Holly. The Devout Belief of the Imagination: the Paris ‘Meditationes Vitae Christi’ and Female Franciscan Spirituality in Trecento Italy. Turnhout: Brepols, 2009. Gambero, Luigi. Mary in the Middle Ages: the Blessed Virgin Mary in the Thought of Medieval Latin Theologians. San Francisco, CA: Ignatius Press, 2005. Graef, Hilda. Mary: A History of Doctrine and Devotion. New York: Sheed and Ward, 1963. Greenberg, Robert. How to Understand and Listen to Great Music: the Greenberg Lectures. Springfield, VA: Teaching Co., 1996. Hundersmarck, Lawrence F. “The Use of Imagination, Emotion, and the Will in a Medieval Classic: The Meditaciones Vita Christi.” Logos: A Journal of Catholic Thought and Culture 6:2 (2003): 46-62. Kirby, Peter. “Infancy Gospel of James.” The Early Christian Writings: New Testament, Apocrypha, Gnostics, Church Fathers. Site is copyright © Peter Kirby. Placentia, California, 2001. http://www.earlychristianwritings.com/infancyjames.html. Maunder, Chris, ed. Origins of the cult of the Virgin Mary. Tunbridge Wells: Burns & Oates, 2008. McInerny, Ralph. Dante and the Blessed Virgin. Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 2010. Miles, Laura Saetveit. “The Origins and Development of the Virgin Mary’s Book at the Annunciation.” Speculum 89:3 (2014): 632-69. Pelikan, Jaraslov. Mary through the Centuries: Her Place in the History of Culture. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1996. Rubin, Miri. Mother of God: a history of the Virgin Mary. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2009. Shoemaker, Stephen. “The Ancient Dormition Apocrypha and the Origins of Marian Piety: Early Evidence of Marian Intercession from Late Ancient Palestine.” In Presbeia Theotokou: the intercessory role of Mary across times and places in Byzantium (4th-9th century), 23-40, ed. Leen Mari Peltomaa, Pauline Allen, and Andreas Külzer. Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 2015. Southern, Richard William. The Making of the Middle Ages. London: Hutchinson’s University Library, 1953. Van Dijk, Ann. “The Angelic Salutation in Early Byzantine and Medieval Annunciation Imagery.” The Art Bulletin 81:3 (1999): 420-36. Warner, Marina. Alone of All Her Sex- the Myth and the Cult of the Virgin Mary. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016. Wilson, Evelyn Faye, ed. The Stella Maris of John of Garland: Together With a Study of Certain Collections of Mary Made in Northern France in the Twelfth and Thirteenth

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Centuries. Cambridge, Massachusetts: The Mediaeval Academy of America, 1946. Wiseman, Denis Vincent. “The Marian Spirituality of the Medieval Religious Orders: Devotion to Mary Among the Dominicans in the Thirteenth Century.” Marian Studies 52:3 (2001).

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Part II THE APOSTLES AND THE LAST JUDGMENT

Pseudepigrapha and Last Judgment Iconography: Examples from the Church of the Ascension in Luzhany Daria Coșcodan Institute of Byzantine Studies, History of Byzantine Art and Modern Greek Studies, Ludwig-Maximilians-Universität München

The “death of the righteous” versus the “death of the sinner” Situated in Northern Bukovina (today in Ukraine), the Church of the Ascension in Luzhany (in Romanian, “Lujeni”) represents the oldest extant witness of monumental art preceding the famous examples of medieval Moldavian art from the time of Stephan the Great1. Erected between 1453 and 1456 and painted in the subsequent years, the church houses a valuable depiction of the Last Judgment cycle,2 which will constitute the focus of the following study. The recent restoration works of the narthex have made it possible to reconstruct the iconographical program3 and to reassess the place that the church of Luzhany has in 1 Vasile Drăguţ, Pictura murală din Moldova sec. XV-XVI [Mural Painting in Moldavia, 15th and 16th centuries] (Bucharest: Meridiane, 1982), 53; see also Gheorghe Balş, Biserica din Lujeni II. Introducerea pridvorului în planul bisericilor moldoveneşti [The Church of Lujeni II] (Bucharest: Cultura Naţională, 1930). For an overview of the history of scholarship see Constantin Ciobanu, “Biserica din Lujeni: istoria cercetării monumentului și specificul programului iconografic” [The Church of Lujeni: the history of its research and the specificity of its iconographic programme], Ars Transsilvaniae XXI (2011). 2 For an analysis of the iconography of the Last Judgment program at Lujeni see Mirosłav Piotr Kruk, “Biserica ortodoxă din Lujeni” [The Orthodox Church of Lujeni], in Schola. Ars. Historia: in honorem Tereza Sinigalia, la 45 deani de activitate ştiinţifică, eds. Janina Maria Hahula, Stanislawa Jakimowska, Emil Dragnev, Gabriel Herea, Cristian Antonescu (Pătrăuţi: Heruvim, 2014), 129-152. 3 The iconography of the narthex is analysed in Emil Dragnev, “Programul iconografic al pronaosului bisericii Înălțării de la Lujeni,” in Schola. Ars. Historia:

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relation to a tradition that uninterruptedly absorbed and continued the late Byzantine iconography of Last Judgment scenes with more scope.4

Fig. 1. The death of the Sinner. Church of the Ascension in Luzhany, Ukraine, fifteenth century (Photo by author).

One of the indicators for the enhanced role of the Last Judgment iconography at Luzhany is the spatial arrangement in the narthex: the in honorem Tereza Sinigalia, la 45 de ani de activitate ştiinţifică, eds. Janina Maria Hahula, Stanislawa Jakimowska, Emil Dragnev, Gabriel Herea, Cristian Antonescu (Pătrăuţi: Heruvim, 2014), 87-128. 4 For a general introduction to this topic, see Paul Henry, “De l’originalité des peintures bucoviennes,” Byzantion I (1924): 291-303 (“Mais je ne craindrai pas d'avancer que les fresques de Bucovine marquent un progrès, ou, si l'on veut, que ce sont celles qui dégagent l'idée byzantine avec le plus de force.” 297). For the most recent discussion and connection to the Macedonian monuments of the 15th century, see Emil Dragnev, “Contribuții privind portretul funerar al lui Teodor Vitolt și chipul Sf. Nedelia în picturile de la Lujeni (mijlocul sec. al XVlea)” [Contributions regarding the funerary portrait of Teodor Vitolt and the face of St. Nedelia in the paintings of Lujeni (mid 15th century)], Revista de istorie a Moldovei 3-4 (Chișinău: Ştiinţa 1994): 26-34. 150

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vast Eastern wall of the narthex is covered with a monumental depiction of the entire cycle, with the exception of the scenes depicting the “death of the righteous” (Fig. 1) versus the “death of the sinner” (Fig. 2). These are here represented independently, on the adjacent southern wall, separated by a window with a cryptogram cross underneath it. The opposite northern wall contains the votive portrait of the donor, whose depiction and identification (an inscription identifies him with the boyar Teodor Vitold) has led to the assumption that the donor was buried in the interior of the church.5 Within this context, the representation of the two death scenes on a separate level on the southern wall acts as an extension of the pictorial surface occupied by the Last Judgment program and probably reflects the funerary function of the narthex.

Fig. 2. The death of the Righteous. Church of the Ascension in Luzhany, Ukraine, Fifteenth century (Photo by author). 5 C.

Apetrei, “Câteva consideraţii cu privire la specificul funcţional al bisericii din Lujeni (r. Chiţmani, Ucraina)” [Several considerations regarding the functional specificity of the Church of Lujeni] Istros XV (2009): 281-288. For an extensive analysis of the funerary portrait of the donor see also Dragnev, “Contribuții privind portretul funerar al lui Teodor Vitolt…,” 27-30. 151

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On the left side of the small window of the southern wall, the sinner is depicted lying on a bed and dressed in a green robe, gesticulating with his hands in a moment of agony. An angel is standing with both feet on the dying man’s body, while piercing his face with a trident. Another angel stands to the left holding a vessel above the man’s head, while little black demons approach the bed from the front side. In the background we see architectural constructions and a group of women, one of which is pulling her hair in a gesture of intense mourning.6 The Slavonic inscription reads “death of a sinner” - [съмрьть грешнаго]. On the right side of the window, the dying righteous man is depicted lying on the ground, attended by the figures of David and Solomon playing musical instruments. Against a mountainous background, two angels reach their hands towards the body of the lying man. This scene is accompanied by two inscriptions: “Death of a righteous” [съмрьть праведнаго] and “the poor man on the dung heap” [убогї на гнойщи], as well as by the (now faded) designations for David and Solomon. Death and the separation of the soul from the body Despite the complexity of Orthodox thought pertaining to death and the separation of the soul from the body and how these events were understood by painters and artists,7 such representations were often included in the beginning of illuminated Psalters, where the reader is expected to identify with the dying person and contemplate on the ephemerality of life. The Tomić Psalter and the so-called Serbian Psalter are probably the most famous examples, the first pages of which show a person’s moment of death by being handed the “chalice of death” while mourners gather around his bed.8 Unlike these depictions, the representations in the narthex of the church of Luzhany invite the visitor to contemplate the two opposite experiences of death, contingent on the For the motif of hair-pulling as a gesture of grief see Henry Maguire, “The Asymmetry of Text and Image in Byzantium,” Perspectives médiévales 38 (2017): 4-5. 7 See Vasileios Marinis, Death and the Afterlife in Byzantium: The Fate of the Soul in Theology, Liturgy, and Art (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016), 49. 8 See Rainer Stichel, Studien zum Verhältnis von Text und Bild spät- und nachbyzantinischer Vergänglichkeitsdarstellungen. Die Anfangsminiaturen von Psalterhandschriften des 14. Jahrhunderts, ihre Herkunft, Bedeutung und ihr Weiterleben in der griechischen und russischen Kunst und Literatur (Vienna: Byzantina Vindobonensia 1971), 7-8. 6

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individual ethical responsibility in the life-at-hand. The agonizing gestures of the sinner in the left image indicate a violent death, while the stillness represented in the right scene alludes to a serene death. This dualistic representation in conjunction with the Last Judgment cycle seems to be an adaptation originating in Moldavian art, culminating with the famous frescoes of the Voroneţ monastery9. For even the eighteenth-century Painter’s Manual of Dionysius of Fourna does not include these scenes in the instructions concerning the Last Judgment – they are found instead in the section on martyrdoms: The death of the just man: A man with an incipient beard lying on his back on a poor mat, solemnly and decently; his eyes are shut, and his hands are folded on his breast. Above him an angel looks at him joyfully and kindly, and receives his soul with honour and reverence. The death of a sinner: An old man, lying naked on his back on a bed, he is covered from waist down by a magnificent quilt. His eyes are distorted with fear, and he agitates his feet and stretches out his hands to either side. Above him a demon thrusts a fiery trident into his heart, tormenting him inhumanly and dragging his soul from him by main force.10 Although this description corresponds somewhat closer to the iconography at Voroneţ (Fig. 3), nowhere does the Painter’s Manual mention that King David is present at the poor man’s death. In fact, his presence has been explained as a reference, or even a representation, of the psalms, particularly the Psalm 36 (37).11 Andjela Gavrilovich’s analysis of the thirteenth-century depiction of the “death of the righteous” from the refectory of the Holy Monastery of Saint John the Theologian in Patmos indicates, however, that the motif of the Petru Comarnescu, Voroneţ (București: Meridiane, 1967), 31. See also the discussion in Juliana Nina Batali, “Aspetti dell’iconografia del Giudizio Finale nella Piturra esterna moldava dell’epoca di Pietro Rares (1527-1546)” Byzantion 55 (1985): 39-68. 10 English translation by Paul Hetherington, The Painter’s Manual: an English Translation, with Commentary, of cod. gr. 708 in the Saltykov-Shchedrin State Library, Leningrad (London: Sagittarius Press, 1981), 82. 11 Juliana Nina Batali, “Aspetti dell’iconografia del Giudizio Finale nella Piturra esterna moldava dell’epoca di Pietro Rares (1527-1546)” Byzantion 55 (1985): 49. 9

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accompanying music at a righteous man’s deathbed stems from medieval hagiographical literature.12

Fig. 3. The death of the Righteous and of the Sinner. The Katholikon of Saint George at Voroneț Monastery, Romania, sixteenth century (Photo by author).

Gavrilovich argues that the presence of King David follows a story from the Vitae Patrum, which recounts that a certain monk observed how the Archangels Michael and Gabriel were sent to collect the soul of a poor and righteous man; since the soul did not want to come out, God then sent King David and singers to make music, and only after hearing their beautiful music did the soul agree to exit the body. The separation of the soul from the body is thus, according to this interpretation, preceded by a moment of reluctance which is overcome by a sensorial experience. Andjela Gavrilovich, “O literaturnyх osnovaх iavleniia proroka Davida i pevchiх v stsene smertʹ pravednika v trapeznoi monastyria sviatogo Ioanna Bogoslova na Patmose” Mir Pravoslaviia 9 (2015): 138. See also Stichel, Studien zum Verhältnis …, 23-24. 12

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The fact that the image of the dying poor man from the fresco in Luzhany is accompanied by David and Solomon making music points to a similar interpretation. This scene represents the very last moment before the soul leaves the body and continues to its post-mortem journey that the Last Judgment cycle on the eastern wall represents. Within this interpretative framework, I would like to argue that this is the case for the left scene as well: since the exiting soul is not depicted at all, the image represents the moment just before the separation of the soul from the body. The peculiar vessel held by the angel at the head of the sinner is intended thus to force the soul out through an unpleasant sensorial experience. The chalice of death and pseudepigraphic literature Although the shape of the vessel held by the angel at the head of the sinner cannot be identified with certainty, it is probably meant to be part of the horror a person experiences at death if he or she led a wicked life. Since there is little consistency in how vessels are depicted in the lateByzantine period, it remains difficult to assert the function of the object or what it contains.13 In the Apocalypse of Baruch (3 Baruch), a late-antique apocalyptic work that circulated in Greek and Slavonic up to the modern era, the angels that leave the bodies of men are said to carry baskets (κανίσκια) and, depending on the deeds of the persons, are either full with virtues or empty.14 Perhaps the angel at the head of the sinner in Luzhany can thus be interpreted as the guardian angel of the dying person and the vessel that he holds as intended to collect the dying man’s good deeds, following the implications from 3 Baruch. After all, the demon at the head of the sinner in the Voroneţ scene is also holding a scroll on which all the sins are inscribed.15 However, even if the uncertainty regarding whether the angels of 3 Baruch are to be considered as the personal guardian angels of men16 is set aside, such an analogy would be hindered in our case by the fact that the vessel at the head of the sinner does not look empty but filled with a dark-coloured liquid. 13 Mirosłav

Piotr Kruk, “Biserica ortodoxă din Lujeni…,” 148. Alexander Kulik, 3 Baruch: Greek-Slavonic Apocalypse of Baruch (Berlin/New York: Walter de Gruyter, 2010), 343-360. 15 Comarnescu, Voroneţ, 31. 16 Alexander Kulik, 3 Baruch…, 350. 14

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On the other hand, if we admit that the vessel held by the angel can be interpreted as a cup, the array of possible literary sources increases considerably. Eschewing the well-known biblical metaphors related to “cup” in general, the more developed connotation relating to the moment of death in particular, that is, “to taste the cup of death” or “to taste the bitter cup of death” is indeed attested in a number of noncanonical texts related to the separation of the soul from the body. According to Roger Le Déaut, the oldest antique attestation of the “bitter cup of death” is found in the Testament of Abraham, a pseudepigraphic text of the Old Testament composed in the first or second century CE.17 Its longer redaction, which might have been subjected to a number of Christian interpolations18, recounts the meeting of Abraham and Archangel Michael and then of Abraham and Death itself. Abraham is so hospitable that even Michael cannot convince him that his time has come. God then orders Death to go and convince Abraham to give his soul voluntarily, but in order not to terrify Abraham too much, God instructs Death to go with a radiant robe and youthful glory - an appearance of a beautiful angel. As Abraham is being led into accepting his end, Death announces that he is the “bitter cup of death”, an expression which is repeated at various points in the story. However, the text that popularized the motif of the “bitter cup of death” in the late and post-Byzantine period was undoubtedly the Life of St. Basil the Younger. Composed in circa 950, the text recounts the saint’s vision of the afterlife journey of the soul of Theodora, his servant.19 At Theodora’s death, a multitude of demons and angels encircle her bed before Death herself arrives, who hands Theodora a cup filled with poison that causes her soul to exit. The popularity of these apocryphal texts secured the spread of the “bitter cup of death” motif also into the so-called “rewritten Bible” literature. The Palaea Historica, a tenth- or eleventh-century Greek paraphrase of the Old Testament, which became very popular especially via its Slavonic and, later, Romanian translations, recounts how Adam 17 Roger

Le Déaut, “Goûter le calice de la mort” Biblica 68:4 (1987): 568-576. See the discussion in Dale Allison, Testament of Abraham (Berlin/New York: Walter de Gruyter, 2003), 28. 19 The Life of Saint Basil the Younger: Critical Edition and Annotated Translation of the Moscow Version, eds. and trans. Denis F. Sullivan, Alice-Mary Talbot, and Stamatina McGrath (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2014). 18

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was lamenting the death of his son Abel. Upon seeing the decaying body, Adam understood that “the bitter cup of death” is meant for him to drink as well.20 Despite the scarcity of early patristic literature to comment on this motif, the dissemination by way of such “popular books” came a long way in the Eastern Orthodox world, not least into the eschatological iconography. In fact, in the imperial Psalters mentioned above, the offering of the cup of death is the very first image of the manuscript.21 Undoubtedly, the function of the first image is intended to induce the reader into the appropriate mood of fear before death, and contemplation over the ephemerality of life. Within this context, the phrase “the bitter cup of death” reflects the Hebrew etymology of the name Sammael, the angel of death, since the Hebrew etymology stems from the word “poison”.22 And indeed, the Psalter miniatures represent Death winged as an angel, yet dark and faceless. Moreover, Byzantine iconography related to death also includes, albeit rarely, cases where the “chalice of death” is offered by Archangel Michael himself. On the external wall of the Mauriotissa Church in Kastoria (1522), the archangel is depicted with a chalice in one hand, and with a sword in the other.23 He stands over the naked body of a person, while demons are extracting the soul from the dying person’s mouth. The inscription above reads “the common chalice of death” [τὸ κοινὸν τοῦ θανάτου ποτήριον]. Similar depictions are found in the refectories of the monasteries of Mount Athos24. This indicates that the antique concepts of the personification of Death and the concept of the angel of death Sammael combined with the figure of Archangel Michael continued to be represented synthetically in late and post-Byzantine art.

For the Greek text see A. Vassiliev, Anecdota graeco-byzantina (Moscow: Universitas Caesarea, 1893), 188-292. 21 Stichel, Studien zum Verhältnis…, 76-79. 22 Le Déaut, “Goûter le calice de la mort”, 569. 23 See Nikos K. Moutsopoulos, Kastoria Panagia e Mavriotissa (Athens: Ekdosis Somateiou Filoi Byzantinon Mnemeion kai Archaioteton Nomou Kastorias, 1967): 27. 24 Stichel, Studien zum Verhältnis…, 40. 20

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Conclusions The territory north of the Danube River appropriated the legacy of the apocryphal literature rooted in late-antique and medieval eschatological thought without circumventing a local re-interpretation. Hence, the metaphors of the (apocryphal) legends that elaborated on the moment of death and separation of the soul from the body have acquired a vast popularity in the Romanian speaking lands, a fact evidenced by the integration of the “bitter cup of death” motif into lamentations25 and early-modern iconography.26 This motif was thus associated with the scene of the “death of the sinner” and the exit of the soul from the body, a difficult theological concept for which the sensorial aspect added another interpretative layer. The scarcity of similar incorporations from before the middle of the fifteenth century as well as the prominent place of representation in the church of Luzhany point to the fact that these two scenes were perceived as a separate eschatological moment. While the soul of the righteous is “encouraged” to come out by the beautiful music of David and Solomon, the soul of the sinner is “forced out” by the bitter poison that is handed out at his death bed. Expanding on the illumination traditions, it seems that the depiction of the moment of death was here transformed into an ethical contingency regarding the afterlife. The inclusion of both the death of a sinner and of the righteous in the imminent imagery of the Second Coming of Christ represents both a punitive as well as a redemptive moment. Following the detailed elaborations from pseudepigrapha and hagiographical texts, the schemata of the Last Judgment are therefore complemented with a moralizing focus on the two opposed ways in which life ends. For this reason, the scenes of the “death of the righteous” versus the “death of the sinner” have come to be associated more generally with the parable of the rich man and Lazaros (Luke 16:19-31) and became an integral part of the imaginary of the Last Judgment cycles of Moldavian medieval art. 25 Émile

Turdeanu, Apocryphes slaves et roumains de l’Ancien Testament (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1981), 238; see also Nicolae Roddy, “Sociocultural Appropriation of the Testament of Abraham in Eighteenth-Century Romanian Lands” Journal of Religion & Society (1999): 1:8. 26 Cristina Bogdan, “The Cup of Death in the Apocryphal Literature and Its Iconographic Traces in the Romanian Area” Transylvanian Review 21:1 (2012). 158

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References Primary sources Allison, D. C. Jr. Testament of Abraham. Berlin/New York: Walter de Gruyter, 2003. Hetherington, P. The Painter's Manual: an English Translation, with Commentary, of cod. gr. 708 in the Saltykov-Shchedrin State Library, Leningrad. London: Sagittarius Press, 1981. Kulik, A. 3 Baruch: Greek-Slavonic Apocalypse of Baruch. Berlin/New York: Walter de Gruyter, 2010. Sullivan, D. F., A.-M. Talbot, and S. McGrath, eds. and trans. The Life of Saint Basil the Younger: Critical Edition and Annotated Translation of the Moscow Version. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2014. Vassiliev, A. Anecdota graeco-byzantina. Moscow: Universitas Caesarea, 1893.

Secondary literature Apetrei C. “Câteva consideraţii cu privire la specificul funcţional al bisericii din Lujeni (r. Chiţmani, Ucraina).” Istros XV (2009): 281-288. [Some Considerations regarding the Function of the Church in Lujeni (Chiţmani county, Ukraine)]. Balş, G. Biserica din Lujeni, II. Introducerea pridvorului în planul bisericilor moldoveneşti. Bucureşti: Cultura Naţională, 1930. [The Church of Lujeni, 2. The Introduction of the Threshold in the Design of Moldavian Churches]. Batali, N.J. “Aspetti dell’iconografia del Giudizio Finale nella Piturra esterna moldava dell’epoca di Pietro Rares (1527-1546).” Byzantion 55 (1985): 39-68. Bogdan, C. “The Cup of Death in the Apocryphal Literature and Its Iconographic Traces in the Romanian Area.” Transylvanian Review XXI (2012): 215-226. Ciobanu, C. “Biserica din Lujeni: istoria cercetării monumentului și specificul programului iconografic.” Ars Transsilvaniae XXI (2011): 5-14. [The Church of Lujeni: The History of Research on the Monument and the Particularity of the Program]. Comarnescu, P. Voroneţ. București: Meridiane, 1967. Dragnev, E. “Contribuții privind portretul funerar al lui Teodor Vitolt și chipul Sf. Nedelia în picturile de la Lujeni (mijlocul sec. al XV-lea).” In Revista de istorie a Moldovei, 3-4, Chișinău: Ştiinţa, 1994: 26-34. [Remarks on the Funerary Portrait of Teodor Vitolt and the Image of St. Nedelia in the Paintings from Lujeni (middle of 15th century)]. _____. “Programul iconografic al pronaosului bisericii Înălțării de la Lujeni.” In Schola. Ars. Historia: in honorem Tereza Sinigalia, la 45 deani de activitate ştiinţifică, 159

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eds. Janina Maria Hahula, Stanislawa Jakimowska, Emil Dragnev, Gabriel Herea, Cristian Antonescu, 87-128. Pătrăuţi: Heruvim, 2014. [The Iconographic Program of the Narthex in the Church of Ascension from Lujeni]. Drăguţ, V. Pictura murală din Moldova sec. XV-XVI. Bucureşti: Meridiane, 1982. [The Mural Painting from Moldavia in the 15th - 16th Centuries]. Gavrilovich, A. G. “O literaturnyх osnovaх iavleniia proroka Davida i pevchiх v stsene smertʹ pravednika v trapeznoi monastyria sviatogo Ioanna Bogoslova na Patmose.” Mir Pravoslaviia 9 (2015): 132-149. [On the Literary Sources for the Appearance of the Prophet David and Singers in the Scene Death of the Righteous from the Refectory of the St. John the Theologian Monastery in Patmos]. Henry, P. “De l’originalité des peintures bucoviennes.” Byzantion I (1924): 291-303. Kruk, M.P. “Biserica ortodoxă din Lujeni.” In Schola. Ars. Historia: in honorem Tereza Sinigalia, la 45 deani de activitate ştiinţifică, eds. Janina Maria Hahula, Stanislawa Jakimowska, Emil Dragnev, Gabriel Herea, Cristian Antonescu, 129-152. Pătrăuţi: Heruvim, 2014. Le Déaut, R. “Goûter le calice de la mort.” Biblica 68, 4 (1987): 568-576. Maguire, H. “The Asymmetry of Text and Image in Byzantium.” Perspectives médiévales 38 (2017): 1-17. Marinis, V. Death and the Afterlife in Byzantium: The Fate of the Soul in Theology, Liturgy, and Art. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016. Moutsopoulos, N. K. Kastoria Panagia e Mavriotissa. Athens: Ekdosis Somateiou Filoi Byzantinon Mnemeion kai Archaioteton Nomou Kastorias, 1967. Roddy, N. “Sociocultural Appropriation of the Testament of Abraham in Eighteenth-Century Romanian Lands.” Journal of Religion & Society (1999), 1-8. Ştefănescu, D.I. L’évolution de la peinture religieuse en Bucovine et en Moldavie depuis les origines jusqu’au XIXe siècle (Texte, Album). Paris, 1928. Stichel, R. Studien zum Verhältnis von Text und Bild spät- und nachbyzantinischer Vergänglichkeitsdarstellungen. Die Anfangsminiaturen von Psalterhandschriften des 14. Jahrhunderts, ihre Herkunft, Bedeutung und ihr Weiterleben in der griechischen und russischen Kunst und Literatur. Wien: Byzantina Vindobonensia 5: 1971. Turdeanu, É. Apocryphes slaves et roumains de l’Ancien Testament. Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1981.

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Apocryphal Sources and Their Importance in the Italian Iconography of Saint James the Greater Andrea D’Apruzzo Università Cattolica del Sacro Cuore, Milan, Italy

Introduction Saint James the Greater (along with his brother Saint John, and Saint Peter) is one the most important apostles and one of the most revered characters of Christianity. He is mentioned many times in the Gospels and in the Acts of the Apostles, and a number of different sources focused on him throughout the Middle Ages. A number of hagiographic texts has, over the centuries, contributed to a complex cult, with many different facets. Various iconographies related to St. James spread across time and space. In this context, apocryphal sources played an extraordinary role. In some cases, they provided more details to the episodes already mentioned in the New Testament; in other cases, they were the basis of different interpretations of the Scriptures, causing different figures to overlap; in still other ones, they described episodes not mentioned before that strongly influenced the medieval cult of St. James. Different depictions based on apocryphal sources represent the multi-faceted iconography of the saint. The varied iconography was manifested and disseminated in Italian territory. The cult of St. James had an important role especially along the entire Via Francigena, the route travelled by a multitude of pilgrims headed for Rome and the Holy Land. In the city of Pistoia, not far from the Via Francigena, St. James cult has been particularly significant since medieval period. In the mid-twelfth century, Pistoia received an important relic of the Apostle from Santiago de Compostela, becoming

Apocryphal Sources and Their Importance in the Italian Iconography of St. James the Greater

the most important Italian site for the worship of the saint.1 The iconography of St. James in Pistoia and its relation with the apocryphal sources is thus significant for representation of the apostle in Italy. The cult of Saint James the Greater: polymorphism and polyfunctionality Several medieval authors contributed to the formation of the cult of St. James the Greater from the first to the thirteenth centuries. Some years ago, Leardo Mascanzoni used the terms of “polymorphism” and “polyfunctionality” to investigate its complexity.2

Fig. 1. Michele Giambono, Polyptic of Saint James (detail), c. 1450. Venice, Gallerie dell'Accademia.

The concept of polymorphism arises from three different characters called “James” described in the New Testament: James the Greater (apostle), James the Less (apostle) and James the Just (also called “the brother of the Lord”). The confusion created by these homonymies and Andrea D’Apruzzo, “The influence of pilgrimage on local culture and imagination: the «Italian Compostela» as a case study,” Almatourism 8:16 (2017): 59-79. 2 Leardo Mascanzoni, San Giacomo: il guerriero e il pellegrino (Spoleto: Centro italiano di studi sull'alto medioevo, 2000). 1

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the will to glorify these characters one by one led to some overlaps of the three James.’ In this way, during Middle Ages, St. James the Greater acquired some different features to his physiognomy, originally owned by James the Less and James the Just.3 One of the most interesting examples of these overlaps is the attribution of the “Epistle of Jame,” one of the epistles included in the New Testament. During the Council of Trent this epistle was ascribed to St. James the Less,4 and nowadays scholars are discussing the attribution to James the Less or James the Just.5 During the Middle Ages, the identity of the epistle’s author was a more complicated story. Eusebius of Cesarea, at the beginning of the fourth century, attributed the epistle to James the Just;6 at the end of the same century, Saint Jerome confirmed that attribution,7 but according to him James the Just and James the Less were the same person,8 and so he ascribed the epistle to St. James the Less. However, from the fifth to the sixteenth century, various sources reported St. James the Greater as the author of the same epistle. For example, in the De ortu et obitu partum written by Isidore of Seville (d. 636), we can read: “Iacobus, filius Zebedei, frater Iohannis, quartus in ordine; duodecim tributus, quae sunt in dispersione gentium, scripsit,”9 an evident reference to the first lines of the Catholic epistle: “Iacobus, Dei et Domini Iesu Christi servus,

About the overlap of these characters: Mascanzoni, San Giacomo, 3-14; Claudio Gianotto, Giacomo, fratello di Gesù (Bologna: Il Mulino, 2013), 7-14; E. Morini, “Richiami alle tradizioni di apostolicità ed organizzazione ecclesiastica nelle sedi patriarcali d'Oriente”, Bullettino dell'Istituto Storico Italiano per il Medio Evo e Archivio Muratoriano 89 (1980-81): 18-23; Denise Péricard-Méa, Compostela e il culto di san Giacomo nel Medioevo (Bologna: Società editrice il Mulino, 2004), or Compostelle et cultes de saint Jacques au Moyen Age (Paris: Presses universitaires de France, 2000), 51-58. 4 Vv. Aa., Bibliotheca Sanctorum (Rome: Città Nuova Editrice, 1965), VI, 401. 5 Mascanzoni, San Giacomo, 8-9; Gianotto, Giacomo, 99-111. 6 Eusebius of Cesarea, Storia ecclesiastica, ed. Franco Migliore (Roma: Città Nuova, 2001), I, 130. 7 Saint Jerome, Gli uomini illustri, ed. Aldo Ceresa-Gastaldo (Bologna: EDB, 2014), 48. 8 Gianotto, Giacomo, 125-133. 9 “James, Zebedeo’s son, John’s brother, fourth in order; he wrote to the twelve tribes dispersed across gentiles”, Isidore of Seville, De ortu et obitu partum (Parigi: Les Belles Lettres, 1985), 203-205. 3

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duodecim tributus, quae sunt in dispersione, salute.”10 Another example of this comes from the Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri, when the poet addressed St. James the Greater in this way: Tu mi stillasti, con lo stillar tuo ne la pistola poi; sì ch'io son pieno, e in altrui vostra pioggia repluo11 mentioning a “pistola,” that is an epistle. This attribution also appears in some artworks. For example, in a panel in the Gallerie dell’Accademia in Venice painted by Michele Giambono (Fig. 1), St. James the Greater holds a book on which is written “estote factores verbi e no auditores tantum falentes vosmet ipsos”,12 one of the lines of the “Epistle of James” (1: 22). Despite the decision of the Council of Trent and other Church authorities, the tradition of James the Greater as the author of the Epistle is still alive. According to the Codex calixtinus13 (twelfth century), this epistle was read during the mass on the eve of St. James’ Feast;14 in 2016 believers in the city of Pistoia received a little book with the text of the Epistle during the same celebration. Polyfunctionality, the other important feature of the cult of St. James the Greater, is in some ways a direct consequence of its polymorphism. Over the centuries, some different faculties were added to the original apostolic nature of the saint, creating a stronger and multi-faced cult. For the purpose of this research, the most important faculties are two: his role as preferred intercessor and his role as pilgrim’s patron. He had the role of preferred intercessor with God under different circumstances, particularly on one’s deathbed. This is shown by his

“James, a slave of God and of the Lord Jesus Christ, to the twelve tribes in the dispersion, greetings” (James 1: 1). Translation by United States Conference of Catholic Bishops (http://www.vatican.va/archive/ENG0839/_INDEX. HTM#fonte). 11 “Then, thou with his instilling, didst so greatly/instil that hope in me with thine epistle,/that, filled with it, I pour your rain on others”, Paradise, 25th, 76-78. 12 “Be doers of the word and not hearers only, deluding yourselves” (James 1: 22). 13 As we will see, this is one of most important hagiographic works about St. James the Greater. 14 Péricard-Méa, Compostela, 52-53. 10

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presence in the last moments in the lives of Charlemagne15 and Saint Louis IX of France.16 This particular connotation came from his strong relationship with Christ (as explained in the New Testament) and from attributing of the “Epistle of James” to him. This work was strongly connected with the sacrament of the “Extreme Unction,”17 because of these lines: “Is anyone among you sick? He should summon the presbyters of the church, and they should pray over him and anoint (him) with oil in the name of the Lord, and the prayer of faith will save the sick person, and the Lord will raise him up. If he has committed any sins, he will be forgiven.”18 Thanks to the aforementioned overlap between James the Greater and James the Just (or the Less), our saint became one of the most important figures at the time of death. The other important aspect of St. James cult, perhaps the most widely known, is his role as pilgrim’s patron. Since the beginning of the ninth century, when his body was discovered in northern Spain, Santiago de Compostela has become one the most important sites of pilgrimage of the entire Christianity, and St. James has become the most relevant patron for pilgrims.19 For this reason, the most frequents attributes of the saint are related with pilgrimage: the scallop (also known as “pecten jacobaeus”) and the pilgrim’s hat and stick. In the following pages we will see how these two faculties of Saint James originate, both in hagiographic and iconographic terms, with the apocryphal sources. The written sources of Saint James the Greater’s iconography From the first to the thirteenth centuries many different sources represented St. James. They can be divided in three different categories: the New Testament, apocryphal sources and hagiographical texts. A short overview is essential to understand how important the apocryphal

Il codice callistino, ed. Vincenza Maria Berardi (Perugia – Pomigliano d’Arco: CISC – Edizioni Compostellane, 2008), 450. 16 Jean de Joinville, Vita di San Luigi, ed. Renato Arienta (Milano : Bompiani, 2004), CXLVI. 17 Péricard-Méa, Compostela, 61-63. 18 James 5: 14-15. 19 Mascanzoni, San Giacomo, 41-65. 15

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sources (gospels, acts, letters) were in defining the iconography of St. James the Greater during the Middle Ages. The New Testament St. James the Greater is one of three most important apostles, along with his brother John and Peter in the New Testament. Their significance is exemplified by the episode of the Transfiguration, one of the most relevant moments of Jesus’s life. Only James, John and Peter were witnesses of such an extraordinary event,20 as explained by three different Gospels:21 “After six days Jesus took Peter, James, and John and led them up a high mountain apart by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, and his clothes became dazzling white, such as no fuller on earth could bleach them.”22 The Transfiguration occupies a central role in Christian iconography, from the earliest Christian art to the late Renaissance. James and John were also protagonists of two other episodes, described in Gospels and represented during Middle Age. The first one is the calling of the two brothers: “He (Jesus) walked along a little farther and saw James, the son of Zebedee, and his brother John. They too were in a boat mending their nets. Then he called them. So, they left their father Zebedee in the boat along with the hired men and followed him”.23 This episode is represented in some decorative cycles dedicated to St. James, for example, on the silver altar of the Cathedral of Pistoia, realized between 1287 and 1453,24 in which the two brothers left their boat and their father to join Christ and the other apostles (Fig. 2).

James, John and Peter were the only witnesses of other episodes of Jesus’s life: the healing of Peter’s mother-in-law, also with Andrew (Mark 1: 29); the resurrection of Jairus’s daughter (Mark 5: 22); the prayer in the Gethsemane (Mark 14: 33; Matthew 26: 37). 21 Mark 9: 2; Matthew 17: 1; Luke 9: 28. 22 Mark 9: 2-3. 23 Mark 1: 19-20. This episode is described in a similar way also in: Matthew 4: 21-22; Luke 5: 10-11. 24 Lucia Gai, L' altare argenteo di San Iacopo nel duomo di Pistoia. Contributo alla storia dell'oreficeria gotica e rinascimentale italiana (Torino: Allemandi, 1984), 115. 20

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Fig. 2. Andrea di Jacopo d’Ognabene, Vocation of James and John, 1316, Pistoia, Cathedral of St. Zeno, silver altar (detail).

The other episode is described only in the Gospel of Matthew: Then the mother of the sons of Zebedee approached him with her sons and did him homage, wishing to ask him for something. He said to her, “What do you wish?” She answered him, “Command that these two sons of mine sit, one at your right and the other at your left, in your kingdom.” Jesus said in reply, “You do not know what you are asking. Can you drink the cup that I am going to drink?” They said to him, ‘We can’. He replied, “My cup you will indeed drink, but to sit at my right and at my left is not mine to give but is for those for whom it has been prepared by my Father.” When the ten heard this, they became indignant at the two brothers. But Jesus summoned them and said, “You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and the great ones make their authority over them felt. But it shall not be so among you. Rather, whoever wishes to be great among you shall be your servant; whoever wishes to be first among you shall be your slave. Just so, the Son of Man did not come 167

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to be served but to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many.”25 Only three representations of this episode are known at present, all related to the city of Pistoia: a fresco painted in the St. James Cchapel in the Cathedral of Pistoia by Bonaccorso di Cino and Alessio d’Andrea in 1347 (no longer exists);26 a relief in the silver altar already mentioned, realized by Leonardo di Ser Giovanni in 1367;27 a fresco realized under the portico of the Cathedral by Battista Naldini and Giovanni Battista Balducci in 1582.28 Considering that Pistoia, during Middle Ages, was the only “Italian city where a strong devotion to St. James was practiced”,29 we can consider this episode related only to places with an important connection with St. James. The episode represented on the silver altar by Leonardo di ser Giovanni shows Salome kneeling in front of Jesus, asking for her sons a place near him in his kingdom (Fig. 3).

Fig. 3. Leonardo di ser Giovanni, Salome in front of Jesus with her sons, 1367-1371Pistoia, Cathedral of St. Zeno, silver altar (detail). Matthew 20: 20-28. The fresco is known by a mention in Giorgio Vasari, Le vite de' più eccellenti pittori scultori e architettori, Giuntina ed. (1568) (Novara: Istituto geografico De Agostini, 1967), II, 357). 27 Gai, L’altare argenteo, 115-116. 28 Cristina Acidini Luchinat, La cattedrale di San Zeno a Pistoia (Milano: Silvana Editoriale, 2003), 41-42. 29 Mascanzoni, San Giacomo, 67. 25 26

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The last episode mentioned in the New Testament that recurred in some images is the martyrdom. St. James’ martyrdom is the only one mentioned in the Acts of the Apostles: “About that time King Herod laid hands upon some members of the church to harm them. He had James, the brother of John, killed by the sword.”30 This very concise description of the martyrdom was later enriched by other sources, most of all by apocryphal ones, giving the episode more details that are evident in various figurative sources. The apocryphal sources Some apocryphal sources (gospels, acts, letters, apocalypses) had an essential role in defining the iconography of St. James. It is important “to specify that the exclusion from the canonical scriptures did not mean a total denial: some Christian authors of the second half of the second century and of the beginning of the third, for example Justin, Clement of Alexandria or Origen, read and mentioned also works that would not join the Christian canon; other Church Fathers used these works, convinced that they contained memories and teachings useful for faith and mercy.”31 As such, the goal here is to analyse the most important apocryphal sources about St. James. The “Acts of the Apostles” attributed to Abdia, Bishop of Babylon, is probably the most important apocryphal source related to St. James the Greater.32 Written between the fifth and sixth centuries, the Acts tell stories about the twelve apostles, adding more details to descriptions contained in the New Testament. The author tells his story, from the calling of the two brothers to the martyrdom of James, which is given more attention here than in previous sources. 30

Acts 12: 1-2.

31 Claudio Gianotto, I vangeli apocrifi. Un’altra

immagine di Gesù (Bologna: Il Mulino, 2018), 49. 32 About these Acts: Gli Apocrifi del Nuovo Testamento, ed. Mario Erbetta (Torino: Marietti, 1966), II, 541-543; Apocrifi del Nuovo Testamento, ed. Luigi Moraldi (Casale Monferrato: Piemme, 1994), II, 511-515. On apocryphal literature see also: James Keith Elliot, The Apocryphal New Testament. A Collection of Apocryphal Christian Literature in an English Translation (Oxford: University Press, 2005); Bart D. Ehrman, Zlatko Pleše, The Apocryphal Gospels. Text and translations (New York: Oxford University Press, 2011). 169

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Other sources consulted here we will see in these lines are probably related to another James, St. James the Just. However, considering the overlap between the two figures that we have already seen, and considering some characterisations of St. James the Greater iconography that we will see below, we can affirm that these sources have been interpreted to refer to James to Greater, improving his cult and his iconography. The “Gospel of the Hebrews” was written before the end of the second century. It has been quoted by Clement of Alexandria and Origen and translated into Latin by Jerome.33 This Gospel had the same structure as the synoptics ones (it told the story of Christ from the baptism to the resurrection), but with some different contents, including the figure of James the Just. The “Protevangelium of James,” also known as the “Infancy Gospel of James,” was written at about the same time as the “Gospel of the Hebrews”, and it focuses on James the Just.34 This Gospel is divided in two parts: the first one tells the story of the Virgin from her birth to the marriage with Joseph; the focus of the second one is the birth of Jesus. The most important theme of this Gospel is the purity of the Virgin: “the text insists in a quite obsessive way on Mary’s purity from her birth, and on her virginity also after the childbirth”.35 In this way, the Protevangelium of James has a doctrinal value, aimed at “deny[ing] the charges of illegitimacy around Jesus.”36 The apocryphal “Epistle of James” was written between the end of the second century and the beginning of the third. It was attributed to James the Just.37 It contains revelations provided by Jesus to James the Just and Peter 150 days after the Resurrection of Christ; these revelations were put in writing by James, the main recipient of Jesus’ words. The main theme of this epistle is the accessibility for the apostles to the celestial kingdom; in order to reach their Lord, the apostles must achieve a “fullness […] through an effort and a study on the deepest meaning of His teachings.”38 Gianotto, I vangeli apocrifi, 95-97. About this Gospel: Gianotto, I vangeli apocrifi, 106-111. 35 Gianotto, I vangeli apocrifi, 109. 36 Ibid., 110. 37 About this Epistle: Gianotto, I vangeli apocrifi, 76-78. 38 Gianotto, I vangeli apocrifi, 78. 33 34

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The “First and the Second Apocalypses of James” were discovered in 1945 in the Egyptian town of Nag Hammadi, along with some other Christian texts. As the latest sources consulted thus far, they were attributed to James the Just, and dated to the beginning of the third century.39 The First Apocalypse is a dialogue between Jesus and James about the Passion and the Resurrection, in which James appears, like many other times, as an important recipient of Jesus’ teachings. The Second Apocalypse contains others dialogues and revelations between Jesus and James, and its final part contains the description of St. James’ martyrdom, already known from other sources: firstly, he was thrown down from the Temple, and then he was stoned.40 The last source is the pseudo-epigraphic “Epistle of Ignatius of Antioch to St. John the Evangelist”.41 This epistle, not really related to Ignatius, was mentioned by Jacobus de Varagine in his Golden Legend, in the pages dedicated to St. James the Less.42 In these pages the author perfectly merged the figures of James the Less and James the Just, improving the biography of the apostle with some aspects originally related to the “Brother of the Lord”. This epistle also referred to James the Just, particularly for resemblance between James and Jesus, and in the following pages it will be apparent how this theme is connected with St. James the Greater iconography. The hagiographic texts There are some hagiographic texts that supplement the information contained in the New Testament and in the apocryphal sources. Two different themes, very important for the iconography of St. James, were transmitted particularly by the hagiographic sources: miracles of St. James and the translation of his body to Spain after his martyrdom. The most important source about St. James’ miracles is the Codex calixtinus, written in Santiago de Compostela in the first half of the twelfth About these Apocalypses: Le Apocalissi gnostiche, ed. Luigi Moraldi (Milano: Adelphi, 1987), 151-218. 40 Le Apocalissi gnostiche, 60-61. 41 About this Epistle: Erbetta, Gli Apocrifi del Nuovo Testamento, III, 143-144. 42 Iacopo da Varazze, Legenda Aurea, ed. Alessandro and Lucetta Bovarone (Torino: Einaudi, 1995), 370-379. See also, Jacobus de Voragine, Legenda Aurea, ed. Giovanni Paolo Maggioni (Florence: Sismel-Edizioni Del Galluzzo 2007). 39

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century:43 the second of the five books in this codex describes twentytwo miracles made by the saint after his death. Hagiographic collections written between the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, such as the Liber epilogorum in gesta sanctorum by Bartolomeo of Trento, the Golden Legend by Jacobus de Varagine and the Liber legendarum by Pietro Calò, are other important sources for the miracles of St. James.44

Fig. 4. Girolamo di Benvenuto, Miracle of the hanged pilgrim, 1483, already in the Church of St. Dominic in Siena.

They mention some miracles already known from the Codex calixtinus, adding in some new stories. Some of these miracles had an iconographic tradition. The most representative one is the miracle of the resurrection of the hanged pilgrim, represented mostly along the Via Francigena (the most important Italian pilgrim route), in Siena and in the nearby town of Cuma, for example.45 The episode painted by Girolamo di Benvenuto About this source: Il codice callistino. E. Menestò, “Giacomo nei leggendari d'autore del XIII e XIV secolo”, in Santiago e l'Italia. Atti del Convegno Internazionale di Studi, Perugia, 23-26 Maggio 2002 (Perugia: Edizioni Compostellane, 2005), 473-499. 45 M. Piccat, “Il miracolo jacopeo del pellegrino impiccato: riscontri tra narrazione e figurazione”, in Il Pellegrinaggio a Santiago de Compostela e la Letteratura 43 44

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shows St. James who holds up the child, unfairly hanged, in front of his parents represented as pilgrims (Fig. 4).

Fig. 5. Jacopo Avanzi, The translation of St. James’ body to Galicia, c. 1376, Padua, Church of St. Anthony, Lupi Chapel.

The most important episode of St. James’ history included neither in the New Testament nor in apocryphal sources is the translation of his body from the Holy Land to the north of the Spain. The oldest source of this episode is the Martyrology by Florus of Lyon, written in the first half of the ninth century (some years after the legendary discovery of his body in Galicia).46 In the following centuries the story of this miraculous event had been taken over and improved upon in other sources, particularly the Codex calixtinus and the Golden Legend. The episode of the translation of the body of St. James enjoyed great iconographic fortune. In Italy, it was represented several times between the second half of the fourteenth and the first half of the fifteenth century, appearing in all of the biggest figurative cycles dedicated to the saint. It was represented in

Jacopea. Atti del Convegno Internazionale di Studi, Perugia, 23-25 Settembre 1983 (Perugia: Centro italiano studi compostellani, 1985), 287-310. 46 Mascanzoni, San Giacomo, 21. 173

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the silver altar of the Cathedral of Pistoia in 1367,47 in the Lupi Chapel in the Church of St. Anthony in Padua between 1376 and 1379,48 and in a wood reredos in Atri at the beginning of the fifteenth century.49 For example, in the Lupi Chapel, this episode was painted by Jacopo Avanzi:50 on the left, the angel that led the body of the Saint to Spain is looking at the disciples of James that lay down his body in front of the castle of the Queen Lupa, as described in the Codex calixtinus51 and in the Golden Legend52 (Fig. 5). The importance of apocryphal sources in the iconography of Saint James the Greater Previously, we have seen a short overview on the most important sources for St. James’ iconography. Here the extraordinary role of the apocryphal sources already mentioned will be further elucidated. Preaching, martyrdom, and pilgrimage in the Acts of Abdia The Acts of St. James written by Abdia is the only apocryphal source directly referring to the saint. This text offers some information not mentioned in other sources. Firstly, the preaching of St. James after Jesus’ death. After his vocation, he followed Christ “not only as one of His several disciples, but, called by Him on the apostolic peak on the mountain,53 he had [to preach in] Judea and in Samaria after the Passion of Christ and the apostolic split.”54 No sources of this information earlier than Abdia’s Acts are known at present. This episode of St. James’ life has been represented occasionally, for example in the silver altar of the Gai, L’altare argenteo, 120. Francesca Flores d’Arcais, Altichiero e Avanzo. La cappella di San Giacomo (Milano: Electa, 2001), 109. 49 G. Tamburili, “L’iconografia dell’ancona di San Giacomo in Atri,” Compostella – Rivista del Centro Italiano di Studi Compostellani 31 (2010): 18. 50 Flores d’Arcais, Altichiero e Avanzo, 109. 51 G. Arlotta, “Il ‘Codice callistino’ negli affreschi della cappella padovana di San Giacomo e in altre opere figurative e letterarie dei secoli XIII-XIV,” Compostella – Rivista del Centro Italiano di Studi Compostellani 33 (2012): 16-30. 52 Iacopo da Varazze, Legenda Aurea, 536. 53 The reference is to the episode of the Transfiguration on Mount Tabor. 54 Erbetta, Gli Apocrifi del Nuovo Testamento, II, 544. 47 48

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Cathedral of Pistoia. In this case the episode was represented twice: the oldest one on the front side of the antependium in 131655 (Fig. 6) and the second on its left side between 1367 and 1371.56

Fig. 6. Andrea di Jacopo d’Ognabene, Preaching of James, 1316, Pistoia, Cathedral of St. Zeno, silver altar (detail).

Concerning his martyrdom, there are two sources older than these Acts. We have already mentioned the information in the New Testament;57 the first addition was given by Eusebius of Cesarea in his Ecclesiastical History: “Clement, in the seventh books of the Hypotyposes, reports a story about James worth to be remembering, such as he has learned from previously authors. He tells that the one who has led James to the court, touched seeing him preaching Jesus, confessed he was also Christian. Clement says: ‘Both were taken away and along the way the one who accused James begged the saint to forgive him. James, after a

Gai, L’altare argenteo, 84. Ibid., 116. 57 “About that time King Herod laid hands upon some members of the church to harm them. He had James, the brother of John, killed by the sword,” in Acts 12: 1-2. 55 56

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short thought, told him: ‘peace be with you,’ and he kissed him. So they were beheaded together.’”58 The description of the martyrdom contained in the Acts of Abdia provides more details to Eusebius’s words. During James’ preaching, two magicians, Ermogene and Fileto, tried to show how Jesus was not the real son of God; the saint, relying on the Scriptures, refuted their theories, convincing Fileto and making Ermogene angry. After he had also convinced Ermogene, the Jews, scared of James’ power of persuasion, paid two centurions to arrest him. On the way to the scaffold James made a speech to prove Christ’s greatness, healed a paralytic and, thanks to this miracle, he convinced the scribe called Giosia (the one who had helped arrest him) to convert to Christianity. As already mentioned by Eusebius, at the end of the Acts both James and Giosia were beheaded. On the basis of the sources we have seen, the iconography of this episode varies greatly. Most cases just depict the beheading of the saint, based on the biblical Acts of the Apostles. In other cases the representation of the martyrdom is improved by elements included in the Ecclesiastical History and, most of all, in the Acts of Abdia. For example, in the silver altar of the Cathedral of Pistoia the martyrdom is represented both on the front and on the left side of the antependium. On the front one, dating to 1316, after the scene with James’ preaching we can see the saint in front of Herod and, in the last relief, the martyrdom. In this case the baptism of Giosia and the decapitation of James and the scribe were represented in the same scene,59 in the highest part of that scene we see two angels that, as two personifications of Fame on the front of Roman sarcophagi, brought up a clypeus with the souls of the two martyrs (Fig.7). On the left side, dating between 1367 and 1371, the story is divided in four different scenes: the arrest of James, the saint in front of Herod, the conversion of Giosia and the beheading.60 In the case of Pistoia, therefore, some space in the two representations has been given to the figure of Giosia. In other cases, we can find visual representations of episodes related to the magician Ermogene. For example, in the Manassei Chapel in the Cathedral of Prato, a follower of Agnolo Gaddi depicted three different Eusebius of Cesarea, Storia ecclesiastica, 104-105. Gai, L’altare argenteo, 85-86. 60 Ibid., 117-120. 58 59

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scenes at the beginning of the fifteenth century: the quarrel between the saint and the magician, the conversion of Ermogene and the martyrdom of James (Fig. 8).61 The same episodes were also painted in the Lupi Chapel in the Church of St. Anthony in Padua by Jacopo Avanzi and Altichiero between 1376 and 1379, as a prologue to stories of the saint after his death.62

Fig. 7. Andrea di Jacopo d’Ognabene, Martyrium of James and Giosia, 1316, Pistoia, Cathedral of St. Zeno, silver altar (detail).

Probably the most important characterization of St. James’ cult and iconography has been as a patron of pilgrims. This iconographical connotation is very peculiar because it is “the only case in all of Christianity of the total identification of a saint with its faithful, [and] represented with their attributes.”63 The Jacobean pilgrimage and consequent iconography developed after the discovery of James’ body in Lucia Gai, Iconografia e agiografia iacopee a Pistoia (Pistoia: Comitato di S. Jacopo, 1999), 40. 62 Flores d’Arcais, Altichiero e Avanzo, 98-115. 63 Mascanzoni, San Giacomo, 52. 61

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Spain at the beginning of the ninth century. However, an initial mention of the saint as a protector of travellers is contained in the Acts of Abdia. After the quarrel between James and Ermogene this dialogue between the two occurs: “The Apostle told him: ‘You are free to go wherever you want. We do not want that anyone converts against his will.’ Ermogene answered him: ‘I know devilish wraths: if you do not give me something to bring with me, they would take and kill me.’ James replied: ‘Take my walking stick and go safety with it where you want.’ He took the stick of the apostle and came back home.”64 In this way St. James protected a traveller for the first time, using his walking stick, the most common attributes of his later characterization as pilgrim’s patron. Obviously, we cannot affirm that this connotation of James’ cult and iconography originated from this source; however, it is very interesting to notice that the most important characterization of James’ iconography had its first mention in an apocryphal source.

Fig. 8. Master of Manassei Chapel, Baptism of Ermogene, early fifteenth century, Prato, Cathedral of St. Stephen, Manassei Chapel.

64

Erbetta, Gli Apocrifi del Nuovo Testamento, II, 545. 178

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The resemblance between Saint James the Greater and Christ

St. James the Greater has been a polymorphic figure, able to take on different connotations originally related to James the Just or James the Less, creating “a single and great St. James on which the characteristics of the three were added to and overlapped.”65 The physical resemblance between Jesus and James was originally related to St. James the Just. In the New Testament and in some other following sources he is called “the brother of the Lord,”66 and this was often interpreted as a relationship between James and Jesus.67 The “Epistle of Ignatius of Antioch to St. John the Evangelist,” one of the apocryphal sources already mentioned, states: “I would like to see also James, called “the Just,” who they say is very similar to Jesus Christ about life and behaviour. He would seem His twin. People said: ‘If I will see him, I will see Jesus in all the features of his body.’”68 As we have already seen, this apocryphal epistle was mentioned by Jacobus de Varagine in his Golden Legend,69 in the pages dedicated to St. James the Less. In the same chapter the author said that James “was also called ‘brother of the Lord’ because he looked a lot like Him, so that many people confused them.”70 There were therefore different sources about the resemblance between James (originally James the Just, then James the Less) and Jesus, and the apocryphal “Epistle of Ignatius of Antioch to St. John the Evangelist” was the more explicit of them. However, in medieval iconography, the only James that often shows an evident resemblance with Christ is St. James the Greater. This aspect of his iconography shows in the best possible way how the three saints overlap in favour of James the Greater. This is the reason why, in some artworks representing the saint in Compostela, “his image could be mistaken for the one of Mascanzoni, San Giacomo, 57. For example, in the epistle to Galatians Paul said: “But I did not see any other of the apostles, only James the brother of the Lord”, in Galatians 1: 19. 67 For example, in the Ecclesiastical History: “James, called the brother of the Lord – he was considered Joseph’s son too, and Joseph was Christ’s father,” in Eusebius of Cesarea, Storia ecclesiastica, 92. 68 Erbetta, Gli Apocrifi del Nuovo Testamento, III, 144. 69 Iacopo da Varazze, Legenda Aurea, 370-371. 70 Iacopo da Varazze, Legenda Aurea, 370. 65 66

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Christ.”71 For the same reason, in a fresco painted at the beginning of the fifteenth century in the Church of S. Maria di Giano in Bisceglie (Bari), James is represented “intentionally like Christ.”72 Finally, in some images representing the Last Supper the resemblance between James and Jesus is very clear, for example, in the one painted by Taddeo Gaddi in the refectory of Santa Croce in Florence in 1355 (Fig. 9).

Fig. 9. Taddeo Gaddi, The Last Supper (detail with Jesus on the left and James the Greater on the right), c. 1355, Florence, Church of Santa Croce, refectory.

S. Moralejo, “San Giacomo e i cammini della sua iconografia”, in Santiago: L’Europa del pellegrinaggio, ed. Paolo Caucci von Saucken (Milano: Jaca Book, 1998), 80. 72 R. Bianco, “Circolazione di modelli iconografici lungo i percorsi di pellegrinaggio. San Giacomo di Compostella in Puglia”, in Medioevo: i modelli, ed. Arturo Carlo Quintavalle, (Parma: Electa, 2002), 205. 71

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The proximity between Saint James the Greater and Christ The strong relationship between Jesus and James in the New Testament, and the great importance of the saint within the apostolic group has already been emphasised. At the same time, five different apocryphal sources show James (in these cases, James the Just) as a favourite intermediary between the celestial kingdom and the worshippers. Both James’ hagiography and iconography show his proximity to Christ, improved by the overlaps between the different figures called James. One of the most frequent themes in the hagiography of St. James is his strong relationship with the resurrection and the death.73 According to the canonical sources, James had the almost exclusive privilege to assist at the resurrection of Jarius’s daughter,74 and his epistle, as aforementioned, has been often related with the sacrament of the “Extreme Unction.” The apocryphal sources emphasize this relationship even more. Both the “Gospel of the Hebrews” and the apocryphal “Epistle of James” mention an apparition of the risen Christ to James. In the Gospel we can read that “James has promised that, since he has drunk from Lord’s cup, he would not eat bread until he will not see His resurrection,”75 and thanks to his faith Jesus appeared to him first. All these aspects had a great influence on the most important hagiographic text dedicated to St. James the Greater, the Codex calixtinus. Three different post mortem miracle accounts in its second book talk about the resurrection of children and pilgrims. Pope Callixtus II, the apocryphal author of these miracles, explained in this way the extraordinary nature of these events: “A dead man who raised another dead man is an extraordinary and an event never heard of before. If St. Martin and Jesus Christ, when they were still alive, raised three dead men, St. James did the same thing also after his death. […] If no one, unless he was still alive, can raise a dead man, then St. James really lives with God.”76 Both the representations of the saint as the author of the Catholic Epistle and the depictions of the miracle of the resurrection of the About this theme: Péricard-Méa, Compostela, 61-82. Mark 5: 22. 75 Gianotto, I vangeli apocrifi, 95. 76 Il codice callistino, 2008, 348. 73 74

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hanged pilgrim show the strong relationship between James and the themes of the resurrection and the death. This is therefore another case in which apocryphal sources emphasize a characterization of James’ hagiography that appears in many visual representations. In other sources, James has an important role from a doctrinal point of view. Since the first centuries of Christianity, James the Just was considered the first bishop of Jerusalem and the author of the Catholic Epistle, interpreted to be the basis of the “Extreme Unction”. After St. Jerome these aspects were related to James the Less and, over time, also to James the Greater. Apocryphal sources provide other important elements on this characterization. Talking about the “Gospel of the Hebrews” and the apocryphal “Epistle of James” we have already seen the strong relationship between James and Jesus after his death. The “First and the Second Apocalypses of James” show other revelations made by Christ to James, as if he was considered his favourite means to the worshippers, as confirmed by the apocryphal “Gospel of Thomas”: “[The] Disciples told Jesus: ‘We know you will leave us: who will be great over us?’. Jesus answered them: ‘Wherever you will go you will follow James the Just, for whom the sky and the earth has been made.’”77 In addition to this, the “Protevangelium of James has an important doctrinal value: the insistence on Mary’s virginity needed to disprove some “Jewish objections that circulate at that time about the virginal birth of Jesus,”78 giving more space to the Virgin Mary for the first time. In Compostela, in particular in the Codex calixtinus, all of these “juridical” properties originally related to James the Just were connected with the Greater, in order to “effectively make him a man of law.”79 About the several overlaps between the three James’ it is necessary to report some lines written by Moralejo, because they explain the status quaestionis in the best possible way: “The confusion between the two saints called James – or between the three ones, if we distinguish Alfeo’s son from St. James the Just – is very ancient, and in Compostela, as expected, benefited the Greater. The old gloss of the name “Jacob” – “Jacobus supplantator” – mentioned in the Codex calixtinus, is related to our Apostle more than its opponents would be inclined to admit. So, in the same way that Jacob supplanted his brother Esau in the birthright I vangeli apocrifi, ed. Marcello Craveri (Torino: Einaudi, 2014), 486. Gianotto, I vangeli apocrifi, 110. 79 Mascanzoni, San Giacomo, 64. 77 78

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and in the messianic linage, in that text (the Codex calixtinus, ed.) St. James the Greater systematically supplants the Less as “brother of the Lord”, as the author of the Epistle to the twelve tribes and as episcopus par excellence between apostles.”80 These are the reasons some representations of St. James the Greater depict him as a bishop, for example in the cloister of the abbey of Moissac, in which James is “the only apostle wearing liturgical clothes, and his full beard and hair seem more suitable for Samson, who also was a nazir, just like St. James the Just.”81 Conclusion In this chapter, we have seen the polymorphism and the polyfunctionality of St. James the Greater in his hagiography and iconography. In addition, we tried to explain the important role played by apocryphal sources in the definition of such a complex cult and the related iconography. This role was played by a lot of different sources, written in different moments and in various countries, often mentioned by historical authors such as Eusebius of Cesarea, St. Jerome or Jacobus of Varagine. These sources were mixed with the canonical ones and with the works of the Church Fathers, creating an extraordinary ensemble used by commissioners and artists to build an exceptionally various collection of representations of St. James the Greater. References Primary sources Apocrifi del Nuovo Testamento. Ed. Luigi Moraldi. Casale Monferrato: Piemme, 1994. Eusebius of Cesarea. Storia ecclesiastica. Ed. Franco Migliore. Roma: Città Nuova, 2001. Gli Apocrifi del Nuovo Testamento. ed. Mario Erbetta. Torino: Marietti, 1966. I vangeli apocrifi. ed. Marcello Craveri. Torino: Einaudi, 2014. Iacopo da Varazze. Legenda Aurea, Ed. Alessandro and Lucetta Bovarone, Torino: Einaudi, 1995.

80 81

Moralejo, San Giacomo, 80. Ibidem. 183

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Jacobus de Voragine. Legenda Aurea. Ed. Giovanni Paolo Maggioni. Florence: Sismel-Edizioni Del Galluzzo, 2007. Il codice callistino. ed. Vincenza Maria Berardi, Perugia – Pomigliano d’Arco: CISC – Edizioni Compostellane, 2008. Isidore of Seville. De ortu et obitu partum. Parigi: Les Belles Lettres, 1985. Jean de Joinville. Vita di San Luigi. Ed. Renato Arienta. Milano: Bompiani, 2004. James Keith Elliot, The Apocryphal New Testament. A Collection of Apocryphal Christian Literature in an English Translation (Oxford: University Press, 2005) Bart D. Ehrman, Zlatko Pleše, The Apocryphal Gospels. Text and translations (New York: Oxford University Press, 2011). Le Apocalissi gnostiche. ed. Luigi Moraldi. Milano: Adelphi, 1987. Saint Jerome. Gli uomini illustri. Ed. Aldo Ceresa-Gastaldo. Bologna: EDB, 2014. Vasari, Giorgio. Le vite de' più eccellenti pittori scultori e architettori. Giuntina ed. (1568). Novara: Istituto geografico De Agostini, 1967.

Secondary literature Acidini, Luchinat. Cristina. La cattedrale di San Zeno a Pistoia. Milano: Silvana Editoriale, 2003. Arlotta, G.. “Il ‘Codice callistino’ negli affreschi della cappella padovana di San Giacomo e in altre opere figurative e letterarie dei secoli XIII-XIV.” Compostella – Rivista del Centro Italiano di Studi Compostellani 33 (2012): 16-30. Bianco, R. “Circolazione di modelli iconografici lungo i percorsi di pellegrinaggio. San Giacomo di Compostella in PugliaIn Medioevo: i modelli. ed. Arturo Carlo Quintavalle, 201-210. Parma: Electa, 2002. D’Apruzzo, A. “The influence of pilgrimage on local culture and imagination: the «Italian Compostela» as a case study.” Almatourism vol. 8, n. 16 (2017): 59-79. Flores d’Arcais, Francesca. Altichiero e Avanzo. La cappella di San Giacomo. Milano: Electa, 2001. Gai, Lucia. L' altare argenteo di San Iacopo nel duomo di Pistoia. Contributo alla storia dell'oreficeria gotica e rinascimentale italiana. Torino: Allemandi, 1984. _____. Iconografia e agiografia iacopee a Pistoia. Pistoia: Comitato di S. Jacopo, 1999. Gianotto, Claudio. Giacomo, fratello di Gesù. Bologna: Il Mulino, 2013. _____. I vangeli apocrifi. Un’altra immagine di Gesù. Bologna: Il Mulino, 2018. Mascanzoni, Leardo. San Giacomo: il guerriero e il pellegrino. Spoleto: Centro italiano di studi sull'alto medioevo, 2000. Menestò, E. “Giacomo nei leggendari d'autore del XIII e XIV secolo.” In Santiago e l'Italia. Atti del Convegno Internazionale di Studi, Perugia, 23-26 Maggio 2002, 473-499. Perugia: Edizioni Compostellane, 2005.

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Moralejo, S. “San Giacomo e i cammini della sua iconografia.” In Santiago: L’Europa del pellegrinaggio. ed. Paolo Caucci von Saucken, 75-86. Milano: Jaca Book, 1998. Morini, E. “Richiami alle tradizioni di apostolicità ed organizzazione ecclesiastica nelle sedi patriarcali d'Oriente.” Bullettino dell'Istituto Storico Italiano per il Medio Evo e Archivio Muratoriano 89 (1980-81): 17-40. Péricard-Méa, Denise. Compostela e il culto di san Giacomo nel Medioevo. Bologna: Società editrice il Mulino, 2004 (or. Compostelle et cultes de saint Jacques au Moyen Age (Paris: Presses universitaires de France, 2000). Piccat M. “Il miracolo jacopeo del pellegrino impiccato: riscontri tra narrazione e figurazione.” In Il Pellegrinaggio a Santiago de Compostela e la Letteratura Jacopea. Atti del Convegno Internazionale di Studi, Perugia, 23-25 Settembre 1983, 287-310. Perugia: Centro italiano studi compostellani, 1985. Tamburili, G., “L’iconografia dell’ancona di San Giacomo in Atri.” Compostella – Rivista del Centro Italiano di Studi Compostellani 31 (2010): 18. Vv. Aa. Bibliotheca Sanctorum. Roma: Città Nuova Editrice, 1965.

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Apostolorum Gloriosissimus Princeps. Saint Peter Healing the Sick with His Shadow in Late Medieval Painting between the Acts and the Golden Legend Gerd Mathias Micheluzzi University of Vienna, Austria

Introduction Painted by Masolino and Masaccio in the years between c. 1424-1427, the frescoes of the Florentine Cappella Brancacci in Santa Maria del Carmine, at least since Giorgio Vasari (1511-1574), are regarded a landmark in the rise of the maniera moderna.1 Besides discussing dating, attribution, patrons, original concept and meaning of the Life of St. Peter cycle, research continuously emphasized artistic innovations: the implementation of central perspective, the increased sense for mobility and interaction of figures in space, their responsiveness for pictorial illumination, and, as a result, the consequent and consistent reintegration Giorgio Vasari, Das Leben des Masolino, des Masaccio, des Gentile da Fabriano und des Pisanello, ed. Christina Posselt, trans. Victoria Lorini (Berlin: Klaus Wagenbach, 2011), 17-21, and 39-43. Regarding the importance of the Cappella Brancacci in general, see Shirley Neilsen Blum, The new art of the fifteenth century: Faith and art in Florence and the Netherlands (New York: Abbeville Press, 2015), chap. 3; Alessandro Salucci, Masaccio e la Cappella Brancacci: Note storiche e teologiche (Florence: Edizioni Polistampa, 2014), 39-40; Nicholas A. Eckstein, “The Brancacci Chapel: new questions, hypothesis and interpretations,” in The Brancacci Chapel: Form, Function and Setting, ed. by Nicholas A. Eckstein (Florence: Leo S. Olschki, 2007), 1; Diana Cole Ahl, “Masaccio in the Brancacci Chapel,” in The Cambridge Companion to Masaccio, ed, Diana Cole Ahl (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002), 138-140; or Roberto Longhi, Masolino und Masaccio: Zwei Maler zwischen Spätgotik und Renaissance (Berlin: Wagenbach, 1992), 205-212. 1

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of cast shadows.2 As in no other scene, all these features coincide in Masaccio’s St. Peter Healing the Sick with his Shadow (Fig. 1).

Fig. 1. Masaccio, St. Peter Healing the Sick with his Shadow, fresco, c. 1424-1427, Cappella Brancacci, Santa Maria del Carmine, Florence.

According to Acts 5:12-15,3 Masaccio illustrates St. Peter as coming from Salomon’s temple. Followed by St. John and an unknown person,

See William Chapman Sharpe, Grasping Shadows. The Dark Side of Literature, Painting, Photography, and Film (New York: Oxford University Press, 2017), 20-22; Jennifer Bleek, Apparition, Körper, Bild: Das Helldunkel in Malerei und Film (Paderborn: Wilhelm Fink, 2016), 79-81; Victor I. Stoichita, A Short History of the Shadow (London: Reaktion Books, 1997), 54-60; and Ernst H. Gombrich, Shadows: The Depiction of Cast Shadows in Western Art (London: National Gallery Publications, 1995), 21-22. 3 Acts 5:12-15: “Now many signs and wonders were regularly done among the people by the hands of the apostles. And they were all together in Solomon’s Portico. None of the rest dared join them, but the people held them in high esteem. And more than ever believers were added to the Lord, multitudes of both men and women, So that they even carried out the sick into the streets and 2

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he traverses the pictorial space as to approach the foreground, where several sick are lined up in front of a coeval Palazzo, so that at least St. Peter’s miraculous shadow will fall upon them. To this end, Masaccio not only arranged the scene next to the actual source of light (to the left of the gothic lancet window),4 but also simultaneously accentuates the particular power of St. Peter’s shadow by skilfully synchronizing spatial progress and state of recovery: while the shadow strikes the front-most sick,5 the second is about to rise, just like the upright man before, who now gratefully folds his hands in front of his chest – a step by step process, observed by another person, only supported by a wooden walking stick. Referring to Gregory the Great (c. 540-604) and Nicolaus de Lyra (c. 1270-1349), former studies rightly observed that St. Peter was the only amongst the apostles, who was able to cure by means of his shadow.6 Thus, his shadow was interpreted a crucial manifestation of the apostle’s primacy. Given the fact that scholars repeatedly stressed the pro-papal tendency of the Carmine-cycle,7 St. Peter’s shadow was regarded an

laid them on cots and mats, that as Peter came by at least his shadow might fall on some of them.” 4 The technique of matching the pictorial light and the on-site illumination is already described in chapter VIIII of Cennino Cennini’s, libro dell’arte, ed. Fabio Frezzato (Vicenza: Neri Pozza Editore, 2012), 67-68 and seems to go back to Giotto. See Frank Büttner, Giotto und die Ursprünge der neuzeitlichen Bildauffassung. Die Malerei und die Wissenschaft vom Sehen in Italien um 1300 (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 2013), 75-78 and Paul Hills, The light of early Italian painting (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1987), 41-63. 5 As Sharpe, Grasping Shadows, 21 observed, the shadow rather “slips under and around” the crippled than actually striking them. 6 See Stoichita, A Short History, 54-56; Luba Freedman, “Masaccio’s St. Peter Healing with his Shadow: a study in iconography,” Notizie da Palazzo Albani 19:2 (1990): 21; and Astrid Debold-Kritter, Studien zum Petruszyklus in der Brancaccikapelle (Berlin: Zentrale Universitätsdruckerei der Freien Universität Berlin, 1975), 219-220nn259-260. 7 For a brief summary see Marco Rizzi, “Cultura agiografica e rappresentazione teologica nel Rinascimento italiano: Il caso della Cappella Brancacci,” Iconographica 4 (2005): 110-111; and recently Salucci, Masaccio e la Cappella Brancacci, 48. 189

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iconographical necessity,8 the realization of which was considered as being “…heavily reliant on recent achievements in perspective.”9 Thus, the mimetic approach, capable of illustrating the shadow as a major feature, was considered an indispensable precondition. As a result, shadowless medieval examples were mostly neglected, ignored, misjudged or assessed as dysfunctional. By focusing rather on deficiencies than qualities, such as the extraordinary depiction of some rays of light,10 former research failed to recognize both possible literary sources as well as significant functional aspects. This is especially true regarding the only preserved monumental forerunners for Masaccio’s St. Peter Healing with his Shadow in the Basilica of San Piero a Grado (c. 1300) and the Upper Church of San Francesco in Assisi (c. 1279).11 The aim of this paper is to address this research gap by focusing on iconographical details, their sources as well as the respective local contexts. Based on the assumption that both works rely on a passage of the apocryphal Pseudo-Clementine Writings, transmitted most probably via the Golden Legend, I will show that the Healing with the Shadow in San Piero and Assisi were by no means dysfunctional. Instead, they follow a locally specific double function, a dualism, since both not only propagate the Petrine primacy, but moreover were intended as a means of increasing the attractiveness as a pilgrim’s site in San Piero, and as a church- and order political statement in Assisi. After an introduction to San Piero and its Healing with the Shadow (II), the underlying sources as See Roberto Casati, “Methodological Issues in the Study of the Depiction of Cast Shadows: A Case Study in the Relationships between Art and Cognition,” The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism 62, no. 2 (Spring 2004): 165. 9 Stoichita, A Short History, 55: “The visualization of the account was heavily reliant on recent achievements in perspective.” 10 Although occasionally recognized, these rays of light were never subject of investigations. See Pietro d’Achiardi, Gli affreschi di S. Piero a Grado presso Pisa e quelli già esistenti nel portico della Basilica Vaticana (Rome: Tipografia della R. Accademia dei Lincei, 1905), 16; Millard Meiss, “Masaccio and the early Renaissance. The circular plan,” in The Painters Choice. Problems in the Interpretation of Renaissance Art, ed. Millard Meiss (New York: Harper & Row, 1976), 76; Debold-Kritter, Petruszyklus, 60; Freedman, “Masaccio’s St. Peter Healing,” 24; and Gerhard Ruf, Die Fresken der Oberkirche von San Francesco in Assisi. Ikonographie und Theologie (Regensburg: Schnell & Steiner, 2004), 80. 11 See Freedman, “Masaccio’s St. Peter Healing,” 23, although she was not aware of the example in Assisi. 8

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well as the local context will be deduced along the sermons of the Pisan archbishop Federico Visconti. Based on these results, a comparison with the situation in Assisi is made (III) before a final conclusion follows (IV). San Piero a Grado The Basilica of San Piero a Grado is located about halfway between the city of Pisa and today’s coastline. Presumably as early as the fourth century, the former villa suburbana has been repurposed for cultic use.12 Various phases of amplifications and reconstructions in the Middle Ages resulted in the three-aisled and double-choired Basilica of the thirteenth century, which largely constitutes the actual fabric. Slightly displaced from the central axis, the stone altar in the western part of the main nave marks its centrepiece. According to local legends, this altar was erected in 42-44 AD by the apostle St. Peter himself.13 Due to a storm on his passage from Antioch to Rome, he was forced to first disembark “ad gradus Arnenses”, the Italian shore next to the mouth of the river Arno. Only six months later, it is said, St. Peter continued his journey to finally arrive at the eternal city. This legend is also part of the partially preserved murals, executed around 1300 by Deodato Orlandi (c. 1287-1337) on the Basilica’s clerestory walls (Fig. 2).14 See Fabio Redi, “Le strutture edilizie della Basilica di San Piero a Grado dalle origini al secolo XV,” in Nel segno di Pietro: La basilica di San Piero a Grado da luogo della prima evangelizzazione a meta di pellegrinaggio medievale, ed. Maria Luisa Ceccarelli Lemut and Stefano Sodi (Ospedaletto: Felici, 2003), 99-116; Fabio Redi, “La Basilica di S. Piero a Grado: gli scavi e la cronologia,” in Terre e paduli: reperti, documenti, immagini per la storia di Coltano, ed. Renzo Mazzanti (Pontedera: Bandecchi & Vivaldi, 1986), 221-228; and Piero Sanpaolesi, Il duomo di Pisa e l'architettura romanica toscana delle origini (Pisa: Nistri-Lischi, 1975), 59-119. The altar’s gothic-style baldachin, made of pierta serena, is most likely an addition of the fifteenth century. See Fabio Redi, “Le strutture edilizie,” 103. 13 See Stefano Bruni, “La prima christianizzazione della regione di Pisa: Il contributo delle testimonianze archeologiche,” in Collareta, Nel solco di Pietro, 23; Michele Bacci, “The Pisan Relic in Saint Peter of Vyšehrad and the Medieval Disputes about the Earliest Consecrated Altar,” Umění/Art 64:3-4 (2016): 215217; and Stefano Sodi, “S. Piero a Grado e la via maritima del’Evangelizzazione della Tuscia costiera,” in Ceccarelli Lemut, and Sodi, Nel segno di Pietro, 12. 14 The murals were restored in the years between 1997 and 2000, supervised by Dott.ssa Mariagiulia Burresi (Soprintendenza Pisana) and funded by the Cassa di 12

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Fig. 2. Deodato Orlandi, Life and Afterlife of SS. Peter and Paul, fresco, c. 1300, central nave, Basilica of San Piero a Grado.

Framed by a gallery of papal portraits and an allegory of the Heavenly Jerusalem, the frescoed Life and Afterlife of SS. Peter and Paul comprises a total of thirty-one scenes,15 each accompanied by corresponding Risparmio di Pisa. Various documents regarding the internal communication of the responsible persons and institutions are preserved in some folders in the archives of the Pisan Palazzo Blu, labeled with N° 43/96, 80/99, 86/99, 8/00. Unfortunately, detailed records regarding the previous state of conservation, works carried out, applied techniques, the map of the Giornate or likewise are currently not available. A few general results are published in Mariagiulia Burresi, “L’edificio,” in La Basilica di San Piero a Grado, ed. Stefano Sodi and Mariagiulia Burresi (Pisa: Edizioni ETS, 2010), 51-67; and Mariagiulia Burresi, Antonio Caleca, and Chiara Bozzoli, Affreschi medievali a Pisa (Pisa: Cassa di Risparmio di Pisa, 2003), 78. However, I would like to thank the staff at Pisan Palazzo Blu and the Soprintendenza for their kind support, especially Dott.ssa Maria Chiara Favilla and Dott.ssa Mariagiulia Burresi. 15 There has been some confusion regarding the exact number. While Pietro d’Achiardi as well as Mariagiulia Burresi mention thirty-one, Wollesen, Pinkus and Ozeri suggest a total of thirty scenes. See d’Achiardi, Gli affreschi, 12; Burresi, “L’edificio,” 61-64; Jens T. Wollesen, Die Fresken von San Piero a Grado (Bad Oeynhausen: Bad-Druckerei Adalbert Theine, 1977), 47; and Assaf Pinkus and 192

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inscriptions. In order to structure the programme, research proposed different solutions. Within his stylistic and iconographic analysis, Jens Wollesen, for example, divided the cycle by means of its sources. He identified a New Testamentary-Petrine section (scenes 1-5), a canonicalapostolic part (6-10), and the local legend (11-15)16 in the south, and an uncanonical sequence in the north, further divided into apocryphal Petrine scenes (16-26) and the legend of St. Sylvester (27-31).17 Assaf Pinkus and Michal Ozeri, by contrast, split the scenes on a thematic level, suggesting a tripartite order: the God-given miraculous power of S. Peter’s body (1-18), its transition from body to icon by means of imprinting (19-26), and its visual affirmation (27-31).18 This approach, however, was recently criticised, for it underestimates the murals’ memorial and cultic qualities.19 Moreover, the visual reproduction of a true icon, proposed as a replacement for the supposedly missing relics, considers neither the existence of the Petrine altar nor the northern murals’ Roman origin.20 Nevertheless, Pinkus and Ozeri offer interesting Michal Ozeri, “From Body to Icon: The Life of Sts Peter and Paul in the Murals of S. Piero a Grado (Pisa),” Convivium 1:2 (2014): 119. This seems to be a result of d’Achiardi, Gli affreschi, 20-22, in which he referred to a frame that once divided the Pisan Notables on Pilgrimage. As Pinkus and Ozeri, “From Body to Icon,” 119n2 rightly observed, Burresi, “L’edificio,” 61-64, also mentions thirtyone scenes. However, it was not Sylvester defeating the Dragon, which was added, but the same subdivision of the Pisan Notables, formerly suggested by d’Achiardi. See also Burresi, Caleca, and Bozzoli, Affreschi medievali, 18. In fact, after the last restoration this subdivision is again visible, but nonetheless unreadable. 16 The following numeration is adapted to the current state of the murals. See note 15. 17 See Wollesen, Die Fresken, 11. In his catalogue, the proposed structure is further divided into a New Testamentary-Petrine section (scenes 1-5), a canonical-apostolic part (6-10), local legends (11-14), apocryphal scenes (15-25), and the legend of St. Sylvester (26-30), which is here simplified for the sake of clarity. 18 See Pinkus and Ozeri, “From Body to Icon,” 126-140. 19 See Bacci, “The Pisan Relic,” 217. 20 Although Pinkus and Ozeri, “From Body to Icon,” 119-126, mention both the altar and the Roman origin, they were mostly omitted within their hypothesis. Even the argument of emphasizing the dead body by terra verde (or verdaccio), to which Pinkus and Ozeri, “From Body to Icon,” 136-137 refer, has to be seriously questioned, since this coloring, according to Mariagiulia Burresi 193

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insights into medieval practices of making, using, and worshipping relics, and, thus, emphasize their relevance. To this end, the thematic separation, especially the subdivision of a miracle-section, which will be more narrowly defined in the further course of this chapter, is of considerable value. Referring to some seventeenth-century drawings by Jacopo Grimaldi, in 1905 already Pietro d’Achiardi observed that the northern scenes were closely fashioned after the Petrine cycle that once adorned the quadriporticus of Old St. Peter’s Basilica.21 For the southern murals such models can only be assumed, since neither the drawings nor written sources prove their actual appearance. As likely as such a dependence may be, it is also true that rather than strictly copying an already existent cycle, the southern frescoes, especially the scenes of local cult (11-15), were adapted appropriately to the needs of San Piero a Grado. Consequently, these are executed more individually and accentuate the site’s commemorative function.22 In this respect, however, former studies did not consider the preceding miracle-sequence (scenes 6-9), including St. Peter Healing the Lame (Acts 3:1-9), St. Peter Healing the Sick (email to the author, July 21, 2018) was given exclusively to central protagonists within the cycle. Thus, the head of the living bishop on the right in the Rescue of Peter and Paul’s Bodies shows the same green preparation as the dead SS. Peter and Paul’s heads. 21 See d’Achiardi, Gli affreschi, 51-68. He was able to relate the northern frescoes in San Piero to some seventeenth-century drawings by Jacopo Grimaldi, who was told to record the remains of the old fabric, before torn down in 1609/10. They are now preserved within MS Barb. lat. 2733, fol. 135r-143r, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, Vatican City. For further discussion see Valerio Ascani, “La Basilica di San Piero a Grado: la memoria dell’apostolo Pietro alla foce dell’Arno,” in Collareta, Nel solco di Pietro, 60; Wollesen, Die Fresken, 101-116; Irene Hueck, “Der Maler der Apostelszenen im Atrium von Alt-St. Peter,” Mitteilungen des Kunsthistorischen Institutes in Florenz 14, no. 2 (1969/70): 115-144; Adolf Weiss, “Ein Petruszyklus des 7. Jahrhunderts im Querschiff der Vatikanischen Basilika,“ Römische Quartalschrift 58 (1968): 254-260; and Stephan Waetzoldt, Die Kopien des 17. Jahrhunderts nach Mosaiken und Wandmalereien in Rom (Vienna: Schroll-Verlag, 1964), 66-67. 22 While Bacci, “The Pisan Relic,” 217-218 accentuates the scenes of local cult, Jens Wollesen, Die Fresken, 101-116 more generally observed stylistic discrepancies between the southern and the northern murals, especially regarding the miracle-sequence. 194

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with his Shadow (Acts 5:14-16), The Death of Ananias and Sapphira (Acts 5:110), and The Raising of Tabitha (Acts 9:40-41). This is especially true regarding the Healing with the Shadow (Fig. 3).

Fig. 3. Deodato Orlandi, St. Peter Healing the Sick with his Shadow, c. 1300, fresco, 340 x 275 cm, central nave, southern wall, Basilica of San Piero a Grado.

Situated on the outer left, St. Peter is illustrated in accordance with representational traditions as a bearded man holding the keys, dressed in a blue tunic and a yellowish coat. Performing a gesture of blessing, the apostle approaches the sick who are placed on mats in the streets, awaiting their recovery. Simultaneously, the exorcism of a demon takes place behind, showing a small, winged creature, heading towards some rays of light that enter from the upper left. These rays of light not only seem to cause the expulsion of the evil spirit, but also, by subtly touching St. Peter’s halo and fingers, remind the beholder of how a cast shadow factually emerges. This notional cast shadow, thus, fictively falls onto the sick, whose mat St. Peter touches with his left foot. Accentuated by the orientation of the right foot, however, this refined conceptual process is only revealed by the fragmented inscription below: UMBRA PETRI

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SUSCI…[TAVIT?] (St. Peter’s shadow healed).23 Judging by the Book of Acts, the ascending demon does not belong to the Healing with the Shadow, neither is it mentioned in the remaining titulus. Thus, it rather seems as if Orlandi intended a visualized summarium24 by adding the healing of the possessed (Acts 5:16), which is described right after.25 Regarding the rays of light, however, the Book of Acts remains silent. So far, the scene has been considered a relatively insignificant, individual part of the programme.26 Hence, former research paid little attention to these iconographic peculiarities. As repeatedly observed, the scene was given chronological priority with respect to the Death of Ananias and Sapphira, representing an ascending hierarchy of St. Peter’s God-given thaumaturgic abilities, initiating with the power to heal by means of his voice (Acts 3:1-9), his shadow (Acts 5:12-15), to sentence to death (Acts 5:1-10) and to resurrect (Acts 9:40-41).27 In this respect, the un-chronologic arrangement appears plausible and likewise ordinary. Considering the arthistorical general narrative, even the absence of the painting’s actual subject – St. Peter’s shadow – must have seemed unsuspicious, since it is usually argued that cast shadows were ignored by medieval artists.28 As a

In the early twentieth century, Igino Benvenuto Supino, Arte pisana (Florence: Alinari, 1904), 260 was still able to read: “Umbra Petri susci.... ....mortuorum.” See also Wollesen, Die Fresken, 30n75. 24 The St. Peter Healing with his Shadow is considered an outstanding example of summarizing notes within the apostolic miracles. See Bernd Kollmann, “Hinführung zu den Wundererzählungen in der Apostelgeschichte,” in Die Wunder der Apostel, ed. Ruben Zimmermann (Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus, 2017), 2:123. 25 See Acts 5:16: “concurrebat autem et multitudo vicinarum civitatum Hierusalem adferentes aegros et vexatos ab spiritibus inmundis qui curabantur omnes.” (The people also gathered from the towns around Jerusalem, bringing the sick and those afflicted with unclean spirits, and they were all healed.) 26 See, however, Pinkus and Ozeri, “From Body to Icon,” 131n43, who point out the scene’s significant role, but did not discuss the iconographic details. 27 The irregular location was already mentioned by d’Achiardi, Gli affreschi, 14; Wollesen, Die Fresken, 32; and most recently by Pinkus and Ozeri, “From Body to Icon,” 130. 28 See Sharpe, Grasping Shadows, 20-21; Büttner, Giotto und die Ursprünge, 80-81; Stoichita, A Short History, 44; Gombrich, Shadows, 19-23. A contrasting view to 23

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result, the mysterious rays of light, inexplicable by means of the Book of Acts, were simply thought as to replace the missing shadow.29 Nevertheless, in terms of the local cult and traditions these exceptional features are growing increasingly significant. The Healing with the Shadow, Federico Visconti’s Sermons and their Sources In order to explain these peculiarities, the Pisan archbishop Federico Visconti’s Sermones have an outstanding role to play. Delivered on Ascension Day sometime between 1253-1277 at the Basilica of San Piero a Grado in the vernacular, his sermons are generally considered the most elaborate and trustworthy source for the Petrine founding.30 However, even before the archbishop comes up with the Petrine itinerary, he describes a significant event, which, according to Visconti, took place prior to the apostle’s embarkment (Visconti, Sermones, 36.4): Thus, St. Peter was in Antioch, from where the followers of Simon Magus expelled him, but in the end, with the help of certain good people, he returned to Antioch, on the condition that he and Simon Magus would engage in a “magical duel” and the defeated would be expelled from the city. Therefore, after the sick had been placed in the squares this persistent art-historical commonplace will be presented in the author’s forthcoming dissertation, expected 2020. 29 See d’Achiardi, Gli affreschi, 16: “Un raggio di luce dorata scende dall’alto, a sinistra, sul capo dell’Apostolo, ad indicare la luce proiettante l’ombra miracolosa.” (A ray of golden light descends from above, to the left, on the head of the Apostle, indicating the light projecting the miraculous shadow.) See also Freedman, “Masaccio’s St. Peter Healing,” 24; and Meiss, “The circular plan,” 76n3. 30 Although presumably not the oldest (see Bacci, “The Pisan Relic,” 220-222 and Mauro Ronzani, “San Piero a Grado nelle vicende della chiesa Pisana dei secoli XIII e XIV,” in Ceccarelli Lemut, and Stefano Sodi, Nel segno di Pietro, 2729), Visconti’s Sermones are assumed the most trustworthy and systematic source concerning the local cult. See Mauro Ronzani, “Pisa, Roma e san Pietro in età medieval,” in Collareta, Nel solco di Pietro, 37; Sodi, “S. Piero a Grado e la via maritima,” 12; and Maria Luisa Ceccarelli Lemut, “San Piero a Grado e il culto Petrino nella Diocesi di Pisa Maria Luisa,” in Ceccarelli Lemut, and Stefano Sodi, Nel segno di Pietro, 21-22. 197

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to be cured by the shadow of the passing Peter [ad umbram eius], as he had already done in Jerusalem (Acts 5:15), according to the words of the Lord, John 14:12: and greater works than these will he do, since no one was healed by the shadow of Christ. And so the prince of Antioch gave his palace to St. Peter so that he might consecrate it as a church, where he was raised up to the cathedra, as one reads in detail and explicitly in the legend of the cathedra [sicut legitur plene et expressius in Legende Cathedre].”31 Although St. Peter’s primacy is usually illustrated solely or in combination with his Calling, the Walking on the Water, the Delivery of the Keys, or the Feed my Sheep, Federico Visconti exclusively refers to St. Peter Healing with his Shadow, a deed that even Christ has not accomplished, as stated by quoting John 14:12. A similar focus, emphasizing St. Peter’s unique ability to heal by means of his shadow, can already be found in the writings of Gregory the Great, Arator or Beda Venerabilis.32 However, it seems as if Visconti’s primary source for the Healing with the Shadow was not so much the Book of Acts as Jacobus de Voragine’s Legende sanctorum, a popular hagiographic compilation, written from 1260/63 onwards and better known as Legenda Aurea or Golden Legend.33 This is apparent because of the Pisan archbishop’s reference to the “Legende Cathedre”, and the fact that both Federico Visconti and Jacobus de Voragine, as we will see below, did not localize the healing in Jerusalem but in Antioch. Moreover, the Legenda Aurea, like parts of Visconti’s Sermones, is organized according to the liturgical calendar, including three feasts dedicated to St. Peter.34 Stressing its relevance, the Healing with the Shadow appears twice: within the paragraph assigned to My own translation of Visconti, Sermones, ed. Bériou, 36.4, p. 601. See Anthony Molho, “The Brancacci Chapel: Studies in its iconography and history,” Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes 40 (1977): 52-53; and Freedman, “Masaccio’s St. Peter Healing,” 20-21. 33 See Visconti, Sermones, ed. Bériou, 198-207, 601n2. For a detailed discussion regarding the Golden Legend’s dating and its spread see Jacobus de Voragine, Legenda Aurea, ed. Giovanni Paolo Maggioni, 2nd ed. vol. 1 (Florence: SISMEL Edizioni del Galluzzo, 1998), 1:XIII; and Jacobus de Voragine, Legenda Aurea, ed. Bruno W. Häuptli (Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder, 2014), 1:44. 34 See Voragine, Legenda Aurea, ed. Maggioni, 5-10; and Visconti, Sermones, ed. Bériou, 76-77. 31 32

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the feast of St. Peter (§ 89), and, as the quoted sermon by Visconti revealed, the legend of the Cathedra Petri (§ 44). While in the first it is only said that Peter “umbra sui corporis infirmos sanavit” (with the shadow of his body cured the sick),35 the Cathedra Petri-paragraph is more enlightening. Besides including parts of the fresco’s original inscription,36 it also comprises various reasons for St. Peter’s primacy, again pointing out the apostle’s unique virtue to heal with his shadow.37 The rather popular reference to St. Peter’s shadow is closely followed by an essential, but hitherto neglected sequence (Voragine, The Golden Legend, transl. by W. G. Ryan, 164): A second reason for the institution of today’s feast is one that is taken from the Itinerarium of Saint Clement [de itinerario Clementis]. There we read that Peter was going about, preaching the Gospel, and when he approached Antioch, all the people of that city came barefoot, clothed in sackcloth, and sprinkling ashes on their heads, to meet him. They did this by way of penance, because they had taken sides against him with Simon the Magician. Seeing their repentance, Peter thanked God. Then they brought to him all the people who were sickly [vexatos languoribus] or were possessed by demons [daemonibus fatigatos]. Peter had them laid out in front of him and called down God’s blessing upon them, and an immense light appeared [immensum lumen ibidem apparuit] and all were cured, whereupon they ran after Peter and kissed his footprints [vestigia sancti Petri].”38

Voragine, Legenda Aurea, ed. Häuptli, 2:1132. For an English translation see Jacobus de Voragine, The Golden Legend: Readings on the Saints, transl. by William Granger Ryan (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2012), where also the following translations were taken from. 36 See Voragine, Legenda Aurea, ed. Häuptli 2014, 1:578: “Et talem decet te in carcere ponere? Potius, si libertate solita frueretur, posset tibi in aliquo utilis esse. Nam sicut de illo homines quidam aiunt, infirmos sanat, mortuos suscitat.” Perhaps not simply by chance the words “suscitat” as well as “mortuos”, to which Supino, Arte pisana, 260 in 1904 may have referred as “mortuorum” (see note 23), appear within this paragraph. 37 See Voragine, Legenda Aurea, ed. Häuptli 2014, 1:580. 38 For the Latin version see Voragine, Legenda Aurea, ed. Häuptli 2014, 1:582. 35

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By means of the Acts hardly explicable, this paragraph of the Legenda Aurea offers a comprehensible textual foundation for Orlandi’s peculiar iconographic details: it includes both the miraculous rays of light, to which Voragine refers as “immensum lumen”, as well as the exorcism of the sick, which Voragine describes as “vexatos languoribus” and “daemonibus fatigatos”. Furthermore, the Healing with the Shadow in the Book of Acts and the Healing with the Light in Voragine’s Legenda Aurea both mention sick as well as possessed people, laid into the streets. This fact, besides the mutual dependency of light and shadow, might have made it easy to combine the otherwise divergent, yet closely related events. Like Federico Visconti in his Sermones, Jacobus de Voragine draws on readily available materials. To this end, the author not only includes canonical sources, but also apocryphal writings, either to strengthen the narrative character or to accentuate the “Christian time”, as Jacques Le Goff suggested.39 In this particular case, as Voragine tells his readers straightaway, he used the apocryphal early Christian “itinerario Clementis“.40 Even more explicitly than in the Legenda Aurea, the PseudoClementine Recognitiones connect the apparition of an “immensum lumen gratia dei” (immense light of the grace of God) with St. Peter’s ability to cure “sine sensu” (without touch) and “sine voce” (without voice), but “solo flatu viventes” (only by the breeze of life).41 Using almost the same words, Nicolaus de Lyra in his Postilla super totam Bibliam of c. 1309 directly linked this to St. Peter’s miraculous shadow (“sed etiam per umbram, quod est maius”), and, as did Federico Visconti before, See Jacques Le Goff, In search of sacred time. Jacobus de Voragine and the "Golden legend" (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2014), 9-13. 40 The Pseudo-Clementine Recognitiones were most likely written around 350 AD. See Wilhelm Schneemelcher, Apostolisches, Apokalypsen und Verwandtes (Tübingen: J. C. B. Mohr, 1997), 441. 41 See Pseudo-Clementine, Rekognitionen in Rufins Übersetzung, Vol. 2 of Die Pseudoklementinen, ed. Bernhard Rehm, 2nd rev. ed. (Berlin: Akademie Verlag, 1994), X.70.4-5, p. 370: „cumque omnis multitudo infirmantium una voce clamaret hunc verum deum quem Petrus adnuntiat, subito immensum lumen gratiae dei in medio plebis apparuit, et coeperunt paralytici currere ad pedes Petri sani, caeci recepto visu clamare, claudi restaurato gressu gratias agere, languentes recepta sanitate gaudere, nonnulli etiam solo flatu viventes iam sine sensu et sine voce recuperati sunt, omnes quoque lunatici et pleni daemoniis liberati sunt.“ 39

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reinforced the apostle’s unique ability by quoting John 14:12.42 The apocryphal core is therefore of crucial importance for the understanding of this relationship. As the example of the San Piero Healing with the Shadow reveals, whether artists, patrons, or theological advisors were familiar with the Legenda Aurea or the Pseudo-Clementines, the establishment of a connection between the Healing with the Shadow and the apparition of a divine light might have been obvious – both in terms of topographic (Antioch vs. Jerusalem) and thematic relations (shadow vs. light). In this regard Nicolaus de Lyra likewise argues that the shadow has no existence of its own, but rather represents an absence of light caused by an interposed physical body.43 Hence, this particular combination allowed artists to replace the (at that time) unusual depiction of a cast shadow by the more common illustration of light, which undoubtedly was also more appropriate regarding coeval theological imagery.44 Even if not visualized, the notion of a shadow implicitly remained traceable, as the comments by d’Achiardi, Meiss or Freedman demonstrate.45 See Nicolaus de Lyra, Postilla super totam Bibliam (1492; repr., Frankfurt am Main: Minerva, 1971), 4:299v. See also Stoichita, A Short History, 55-56; Freedman, “Masaccio’s St. Peter Healing,” 21; and Debold-Kritter, Petruszyklus, 219-220n260. As we know that Nicolaus de Lyra not only refers to Jerome’s Vulgate but also to older comments, it seems not unlikely that the author knew the apocryphal Pseudo-Clementine Recogitiones. See Henning Graf Reventlow, ed., Epochen der Bibelauslegung, vol. 2, Von der Spätantike bis zum Ausgang des Mittelalters (München: C.H. Beck, 1994), 259-263. 43 See Nicolaus de Lyra, Postilla super totam Bibliam, 4:299v: “Sed umbra nihil est ipsius sed tantum privation lucis ex interposition corporis.” 44 Ever since the early days of Christianity, especially in the writings of the thirteenth-century natural philosophy, light has been equated with God or the divine. See Gerd Mathias Micheluzzi, “Der Schlagschatten im Trecento am Beispiel von Taddeo Gaddis Verkündigung an die Hirten,” Zeitschrift für Literaturwissenschaft und Linguistik 180 (December 2015): 117-119; Mira Mocan, “Lucem demonstrat umbra: ombra e immagine fra letteratura e arte nel Medioevo,“ in Manipolare la luce in epoca premoderna, ed. Daniela Mondini and Vladimir Ivanovici (Mendrisio: Mendrisio Acad. Press, 2014), 185-199; Graziella Federici Vescovini, “Luce e influenza celeste nel Medioevo,” in Scritti e immagini in onore di Corrado Maltese, ed. Stefano Marconi (Rome: Ed. Quasar, 1997), 121126; and Hills, The light, 64-74. 45 See note 10. 42

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Nevertheless, beyond serving as an expression of St. Peter’s primacy, the rather circuitous and complicated artistic realization of the St. Peter Healing with his Shadow raises the question of the scene’s specific functional intentions. This issue, first of all, brings us back to Visconti’s sermons. Altars, Relics, and other Attractions Right after the description of St. Peter’s stay in Antioch, Visconti continues with the narration of the apostle’s embarkment, his stormy itinerary, and his unexpected landing “ad Gradus Arnenses,” equal with today’s San Piero a Grado (Visconti, Sermones, 36.4): And sailing from there [Antioch] to Rome, for where the capital of disfavor was, should be the capital of sanctity, it pleased God and holy Mary, our Lady, that he [St. Peter] should first land at this place, which was called Gradus Arnenses. And because it was winter, he was kept there for the whole winter, namely six months, during which he and his saintly companions, namely Dionysius and Eleutherius and others, with their own hands built this altar and humble church [fecerunt istud altare et ecclesiam parvulam].”46 Upon the feast of the Ascension, on which this sermon was delivered, the Petrine altar received special veneration, because – according to Visconti – at the very same day the altar was consecrated by St. Peter’s successor Clement I (c. 35-99 AD).47 During this consecration two drops My own translation of Visconti, Sermones, ed. Bériou, 36.4, p. 601-602. See Bacci, “The Pisan Relic,” 218-219 and Visconti, Sermones, ed. Bériou, 36.4, p. 602: „Sed beatus Petrus ivit Romam, et ante mortem suam recommendavit beato Clementi istam ecclesiam, dicens ei: «Tu eris successor meus, visita ecclesiam meam Pisanam ad Gradus Arnenses, et consecra eam; et etiam fratres tui visitent eam». Qui veniens cum cardinalibus et cum omnibus prelatis existentibus in curia, consecravit eam; et dum consecraret altare, fractus est sive fluxit sanguis de naribus eius, et ceciderunt due gutte super marmor quod erat iuxta altare ibi in terra, que numquam inde potuerunt deleri, et ideo elevatum est de terra et appositum iuxta lapidem altaris, sicut videtis et videre potestis, ut pro miraculo in perpetuam memoriam remaneret. Qui cum omnibuspredictis cardinalibus et prelatis fecerunt ob reverentiam beati Petri indulgentiam valde magnam.” 46 47

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of blood ran out of the bishop’s nose and fell onto the nearby marble floor, where they were found to be miraculously indelible. Hence, Clement and the present cardinals immediately issued a generous indulgence in honour of St. Peter. The “pietra di san Clemente”48 became a venerated relic, as we know from Godfrey of Viterbo’s Pantheon, who may have witnessed the cult himself, when he travelled in 1178 as Frederick Barbarossa’s chaplain to Lucca and Pisa.49 Consequently, as Visconti further explains, today’s mass is celebrated not only by the local community, but also by a multitude of foreign pilgrims, who came together in saintly veneration from Genoa, Parma, Bologna, Arezzo, Siena, and the whole Tuscany.50 As Mauro Ronzani emphasizes, Federico Visconti can be assumed the spearhead of those who propagated the local cult of San Piero a Grado.51 Considering the historical circumstances, however, this seems to be anything but a coincidence. A hundred years before, at the same time when Godfrey of Viterbo visited Pisa, Archbishop Ubaldo (1176-1207) pushed ahead the revival of the cult in San Piero a Grado.52 As we know from a letter, Ubaldo directly commanded over the San Piero’s earnings. This only changed in 1201, when the first permanent provost was appointed, endowed with the right to retain the donations of Saturdays, the offerings for the building, and the revenues for the litany. Usually installed by the cathedral chapter, in 1245 Pope Innocent IV appointed Goffredo da Porcari provost of San Piero, which caused serious conflicts with the Reliquary of Saint Clement, marble casket 14th-, nielli 15th-, and silver works of the 16th century, Museo dell’Opera dell’ Duomo, Pisa. See Ronzani, “Pisa, Roma e san Pietro,” 37; and Sonia Giannella, “Il reliquiario di S. Clemente nel Museo dell’Opera,” Bolletino storico pisano 83 (2014): 273-283. 49 See Ronzani, 37; Ronzani, “Vicende della chiesa Pisana,” 28-29, and Bacci, “The Pisan Relic,” 222-224, who also analysed the writer’s motivation in detail, stating that the integration of the Pisan local cult can be seen as a political statement against the Roman Church. 50 See Visconti, Sermones, ed. Bériou, 36.3, p. 601: “Quod festum est hodie? Et dicetis quod est Ascensio Domini, quod dicitur in vulgari a Pisanis «Sansidomino», etsi aliud festum non est; quare non solum tota civitas nostra et comitatus, sed etiam de Ianua, de Parma, de Bononia, de Aritio et de Senis et de tota Tuscia concurrunt cum devotione maxima ad ecclesiam istam beati Petri apostoli.” 51 See Ronzani, “Pisa, Roma e san Pietro,” 38. 52 See Ronzani, 37; and Ronzani, “Vicende della chiesa Pisana,” 28-34. 48

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local clergy. In 1252 the conflict was finally brought to an end by promising the archbishop specified incomes from San Piero: namely those from the feast of SS. Peter and Paul, the day of the Basilica’s consecration, the first day of Lent, St. Peter in Antioch, the Saturday before the last Sunday of Lent, and Ascension Day. Thus, the conflict and its results not only confirm San Piero’s importance, but also show that the church in the middle of the thirteenth century already received a constant income, apparently worth fighting for. Now, if Federico Visconti proclaims the local cult on Ascension Day – one of those days on which the archbishop received San Piero’s incomes – it seems quite obvious that his sermons in a dualistic manner, besides the function of strengthening the connection to the Roman Church, were also meant to attract pilgrims.53 Situated somewhat off the regular route of the Via Francigena, which crossed the Cisa-pass to Lucca, and from there via Altopascio into the Valdelsa to Siena,54 Pisa and San Piero had to compete especially with Lucca and his famous Volto Santo for the passing pilgrims.55 Confirmed by the Legenda Aurea, the reference to the Antioch’s Healing with the Shadow not only enabled Federico Visconti to directly link this particular event to the local cult, but also to emphasize St. Peter’s primacy, his unique thaumaturgical abilities, and, as a result, the potency of his relics – in San Piero present as the stone altar. This actually might have been of some appeal for pilgrims, who were striving for salvation. As the sources suggest, the promotion campaign was quite successful: Processions such as on Ascension Day or on July 6 are documented beginning with the

See also Ceccarelli Lemut, “San Piero a Grado e il culto Petrino,” 23-24, who mentioned different motives for Visconti’s sermons, including the intention to emphasize the apostolic foundation of the Pisan church, its binding to Rome and the stimulation of the pilgrimage. 54 For the different routes of the Via Francigena to Rome, on which cities like Pavia, Piacenza, Fidenza, Lucca, Siena or Viterbo were stable checkpoints, see Paolo Caucci von Saucken, “Die Via Francigena und die Pilgerstraßen nach Rom,” in Pilgerziele der Christenheit: Jerusalem, Rom, Santiago de Compostela, ed. Paolo Caucci von Saucken (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1999), 141. 55 See Caucci von Saucken, “Die Via Francigena,” 141, 177; and Ceccarelli Lemut, “San Piero a Grado e il culto Petrino,” 23-24. 53

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thirteenth century.56 Apparently, the pilgrims’ fascination for San Piero a Grado was anything but locally restricted. Beyond Godfrey’s Pantheon, this is confirmed by the existence of supportive facilities, such as the portico, which originally surrounded the Basilica,57 the nearby hospital (Casa dell’Opera della via di San Piero a Grado), giving shelter to the faithful and the poor, the various hermitages, which were situated along the track, or the visits by Emperors Henry VII of Luxembourg and his grandson Charles IV.58 Although executed about thirty years later (c. 1300), the internal logic of the southern murals follows a similar structure as Visconti’s sermons. After introducing St. Peter as Christ’s chosen successor, his God-given power is illustrated in the miracle-sequence – especially in the Healing with the Shadow. Within this extraordinary scene, the divine power appears in form of light, which, moreover, by slightly touching the apostle’s halo and his fingers, indicates St. Peter’s curing shadow. The miracle-scenes are followed by a local sequence, comprising St. Peter Performing the Mass in Antioch and the Navicella (Fig. 4), The Basilica of San Piero a Grado (partially preserved), an unreadable scene, and The Pisan Notables on

See Bacci, “The Pisan Relic,” 217; Emilio Tolaini, Lo sposalizio del mare e altri saggi su San Piero a Grado (Pisa: Edizioni ETS, 2004), 13-21; and Ronzani, “Vicende della chiesa Pisana,” 34-39. 57 See Tolaini, Lo sposalizio del mare, 51-53; and Ronzani, “Vicende della chiesa Pisana,” 68, who brings up a document from 1418 that confirms the portico’s existence in the fifteenth century, but presumably, as he states, dates back to earlier times. In 1787 the structure was finally dismantled. See Tolaini, Lo sposalizio del mare, 30, Fig. 6. 58 See Ronzani, “Vicende della chiesa Pisana,” 39-41; and Maria Luisa Ceccarelli Lemut, “Assetto del territorio, insediamento ed economia nel medioevo,” in Tombolo: Territorio della Basilica di San Piero a Grado, ed. Sergio Paglialunga (Ospedaletto: Felici Editore, 2001), 107. Moreover, it is documented that in 1355 Charles IV, as did his ancestor Henry VII of Luxembourg in 1312, in pious devotion visited the Basilica of San Piero a Grado twice. Officially permitted but secretly separated, a cut-off marble fragment was brought to the residential city of Prague, where it was placed in a special altar in the western part of St. Peter’s Church of Vyšehrad. The relic’s dislocation was first and foremost, as accentuated by Michele Bacci, intended to transform the church into a pilgrimage site. See Bacci, “The Pisan Relic,” 214-220, 224. 56

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Pilgrimage at San Piero a Grado (Fig. 5).59 As Michele Bacci rightly observed, this skilful combination with the apostle’s life was intended as a visual landmark, guiding the pilgrims to the sacral site’s cultic focus.60

Fig. 4. Deodato Orlandi, The Mass in Antioch and The Navicella, fresco, c. 1300, central nave, southern wall, Basilica of San Piero a Grado.

The hypothesis of the Healing with the Shadow’s locally specific functional dualism, fostering both San Piero as a pilgrimage site and the idea of St. Peter’s primacy, gets increasingly evident when we consider the murals’ origin. Although no direct family relationship to the supposed patron Benedetto di Oddone Gaetani existed, Pope Boniface VIII (Benedetto Caetani) on December 1, 1295, appointed his namesake as provost of San Piero.61 Nevertheless, it took him until 1300 to finally assert his position, which can be considered as terminus post quem for the A similar pilgrimage is visible on one of the nielli on the reliquary of Saint Clement. See Gianella, “Il reliquiario“, 279. 60 See Bacci, “The Pisan Relic,” 219, who conclusively refers to the Mass in Antioch as means of a “topographical indicator.” 61 Ever since Pietro d’Achiardi in 1905 was able to identify the coat of arms within the The Rescue of SS. Peter and Paul’s Bodies, the Pisan de Gaetani family, especially Benedetto di Oddone and his brother Jacopo, were assumed as patrons of the clerestory wall murals. See d’Achiardi, Gli affreschi, 78-79. 59

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frescoes. However, contrary to the above-described tradition, Boniface VIII promised Benedetto di Oddone Gaetani the sole disposition of San Piero’s benefice. As technical analyses have revealed, the giornate were executed remarkably large and summarily.62 This suggests that the frescoes were realized at great haste, presumably on the occasion of the first Holy Year, proclaimed in 1300 by Boniface. Considering the number of pilgrims, this was undoubtedly a highly lucrative concession.63

Fig. 5. Deodato Orlandi, The Pisan Notables on Pilgrimage, fresco, central nave, southern wall, c. 1300, Basilica of San Piero a Grado.

See Burresi, Caleca, and Bozzoli, Affreschi medievali, 78; and Burresi, “L’edificio,” 58-61. 63 See Ronzani, “Pisa, Roma e san Pietro,” 39-40; Ronzani, “Vicende della chiesa Pisana,” 45-54; and Stefano Sodi, “Benedetto Gaetani e gli affreschi di Deodato Orlandi nella Basilica di San Piero a Grado presso Pisa: I motivi storico-politici di una pubblica committenza,” in Girate per Pisa: Schede 1985-1991 (Pisa: Edizioni Offset Grafica, 1993), 157-169. For Boniface VIII and the Holy Year in see Klaus Herbers, Geschichte des Papsttums im Mittelalter (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 2012), 217-219, who also remarks that Boniface VIII was notorious for favouring his family and friends. 62

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Therefore, Federico Visconti’s written- and Benedetto di Oddone Gaetani’s visual legacies are not only connected by the Legenda Aurea as a source, but also by the common economic interest to attract as many pilgrims as possible. Although not as vigorously, in both cases the Healing with the Shadow was of particular significance: for the pilgrims who were listening to the sermons, as well as for those who observed the murals while ritually walking around the Basilica’s aisles.64 San Francesco in Assisi Although in his last will St. Francis ordered that his followers should enter their churches and convents only as strangers and pilgrims (“advenae et peregrini [1 Petr. 2, 11]”),65 the functional context in the Upper Church of San Francesco in Assisi was completely different. Concentrating on a few significant scenes of the Lives of SS. Peter and Paul, the lower parts of the northern transept murals were executed around 1279 and are traditionally attributed to the Florentine artist Cimabue (c. 1240-1302).66 Again, it seems to have been a deliberate recourse to the Roman quadriporticus in accordance with the motto ubi papa ibi Roma (Where the Pope is, is also Rome).67 Illustrated are St. Peter Healing the Such a rite, in which the exterior of the church was circumambulated four times and the interior three times, is handed down from the year 1593. See Tolaini, Lo sposalizio del mare, 54. 65 See Nick Havely, Dante and the Franciscans: Poverty and the Papacy in the Commedia (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 26; and Georg Traska, Die Gesellschaft der Räume: Laikale und bürgerliche Handlungsräume in der italienischen Malerei und Literatur um 1300 (Weimar: VDG, 2009), 47: “Caveant sibi fratres, ut ecclesias, habitacula paupercula et omnia, quae pro ipsis construuntur, penitus non recipiant, nisi essent, sicut decet sanctam paupertatem, quam in regula promisimus, semper ibi hospitantes sicut advenae et peregrini (1Petr. 2, 11).” 66 See Holly Flora, Cimabue and the Franciscans (London/Turnhout: Harvey Miller Publishers, 2018), 55; Chiara Frugoni, Quale Francesco? Il messaggio nascosto negli affreschi della Basilica superiore ad Assisi (Turin: Giulio Einaudi editore, 2015), 77; Donal Cooper and Janet Robson, The making of Assisi: the Pope, the Franciscans and the painting of the Basilica (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2013), 82-87; or Michael Viktor Schwarz and Pia Theis, Giottos Werke (Vienna: Böhlau, 2008), 228. 67 See Frugoni, 76; Schwarz and Theis, Giottos Werke, 228; and Pia Theis, “S. Francesco in Assisi: Eine Palastkirche des Papstes zwischen Rom und Avignon” (PhD diss., University of Vienna, 2001), 158-160. 64

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Lame, St. Peter Healing with the Shadow, The Fall of Simon Magus, The Crucifixion of St. Peter, and The Beheading of St. Paul. Although basic structures are executed quite similar, as compared to San Piero a Grado in Assisi it is much more evident that the individual scenes were not simply adopted, but specifically chosen, compositionally varied and programmatically arranged.68

Fig. 6. Cimabue, St. Peter Healing the Sick with his Shadow, fresco, western wall, northern transept, c. 1279, Basilica superiore, San Francesco, Assisi. Although they offered different interpretations, Flora, 55; Frugoni, 76; and Irene Hueck, “Cimabue und das Bildprogramm der Oberkirche von San Francesco in Assisi,” Mitteilungen des Kunsthistorischen Institutes in Florenz 25, no. 3 (1981): 308-310 all agree on the idea of a specific choice by Cimabue. A compositional comparison, especially of those scenes for which we have evidence in Assisi, San Piero and Grimaldi’s drawings of the Roman quadriporticus (i.e. The Fall of Simon Magus, The Crucifixion of St. Peter, and The Beheading of St. Paul), reveals that Cimabue changed the scale, number and density of the figures, as well as the architectural backdrops, while Deodato Orlandi (at least in the northern scenes) worked closer to the Roman forerunner. 68

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In Cimabue’s composition the light ends far above the apostle’s head, which may be one of the reasons why former research often reduced the scene’s content to St. Peter Heals the Sick and the Possessed.69 The partially preserved inscription underneath, in this respect, is not very helpful either: APOSTOLORUM GLORIOSISSIMVS PRINCEPS PETRVS: NOVA XII VESTIGIA SEQUENS: NOVITATIS GENEROSO MIRACVLO HIC RELVCE…OV…VM EIVS.70 “Most glorious prince of the apostles Peter: anew you follow the traces of the twelve: enlightened by the noble miracle of this novelty…”71 More striking and likewise unmistakable, the tip of St. Peter’s foot not only points to the inscription, but rather extends into it, precisely into the middle of the word “NOVA.” Purely coincidental or deliberately accentuated, the inscription apparently does not refer to the aboveillustrated St. Peter, who, after all, is himself an essential part of the mentioned twelve – the Twelve Apostles. So to which “PRINCEPS” does “NOVA” then refer? Despite liturgical traditions, in Assisi the pope did not enter the cappella papalis through the sacristy.72 Coming from the papal chambers, according to Wolfgang Schenkluhn, he rather used the small entrance See Flora, Cimabue, 65; Gianfranco Malafarina, La Basilica di San Francesco ad Assisi (Modena: Panini, 2005), 264; Giorgio Bonsanti, Schede, Vol. 2 of La Basilica di San Francesco ad Assisi (Modena: Panini, 2002), 596-597; Joachim Poeschke, Die Kirche San Francesco in Assisi und ihre Wandmalereien (Munich: Hirmer, 1985), 74; Hans Belting, Die Oberkirche von San Francesco in Assisi: Ihre Dekoration als Aufgabe und die Genese einer neuen Wandmalerei (Berlin: Mann, 1977), 55; Frugoni, Quale Francesco?, 92; and most explicitly Ruf, Die Fresken der Oberkirche, 80: “Was aber auffallen muss, ist, dass vom Turm in der linken oberen Bildhälfte viele Strahlen auf Petrus gerichtet sind. Dafür konnte ich bislang eine Bibelerklärung nicht finden.” (What must be noticed, however, is that from the tower in the upper left half of the picture many rays are directed at Peter. So far I was not able to find a biblical explanation for this.) 70 See also Bonsanti, Schede, 587. 71 My own translation. I would like to thank Florian Feldhofer (University of Vienna) for his advice regarding possible interpretations of the inscription. 72 Regarding the traditions of the papal liturgy and the particular situation in the Basilica superiore of San Francesco see Theis, “S. Francesco in Assisi,” 169-171. 69

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below the Healing of the Lame (Fig. 7).73 Skilfully integrated in the composition, St. Peter strides over the pointed arch, while answering the lame beggar (Acts 3:6): “I have no silver and gold, but what I do have I give to you. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, rise up and walk!” If the abbreviated inscription underneath actually stands for “Christi vestigia sectantes” (constantly following Christ’s tracks),74 it seems likely that, given the context, the combination of entrance, murals and the following of Christ refers to the role of the papacy.

Fig. 7. Cimabue, St. Peter Healing the Lame (left) and St. Peter Healing with his Shadow (right), fresco, northern transept, c. 1279, Basilica superiore, San Francesco, Assisi.

However, this might point either to a very specific “PRINCEPS” or to the institution itself. The particular structural situation of San See Wolfgang Schenkluhn, San Francesco in Assisi: Ecclesia specialis. Die Vision Papst Gregors IX. von einer Erneuerung der Kirche (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1991), 42-44. 74 See Frugoni, Quale Francesco?, 90-91. 73

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Francesco and its use as a memorial site, convent church, papal palace as well as a cappella papalis, together with internal conflicts and decisions on church policy, open up at least three options: The Pope (individual level) The hypothesis of the individual level is supported by the fact that the coat of arms of the Orsini family is preserved in the Evangelist’s Vault (crossing vault). Besides Giovanni Gaetano Orsini, later Pope Nicholas III (1277-80), who was active as the Order’s cardinal protector from 1261-79, also those popes who held office during the 1279-1305 lasting protectorate of his nephew Matteo Rosso Orsini have to be considered as patrons.75 However, as Chiara Frugoni recently remarked, much points to Nicholas III. During his temporary office both as the Order’s cardinal protector and Pontifex Maximus (1277-79), Nicholas III on August 12, 1279, issued the bull Exiit qui seminat. Thereby he intervened in the Franciscan controversies on poverty, demanding a stricter observance, which showed a tendency towards the Spirituals, but also should be in accordance with instructions of the Regula bullata.76 Prominently placed above the (supposed) papal entrance, the Healing of the Lame may reflect this event. However, unlike the bull, the depiction is formulated open to interpretation and in itself by no means to be understood as a polemical doctrine.77 Rather, it is, first of all, a neutral exemplum of the apostolic succession. Only by considering the juxtaposed Healing with the Shadow the semantics shifts towards a possible expression of authority. This approach is reinforced if, according to Michael Viktor Schwarz and Pia Theis, one assumes that not the left but the right door, located directly underneath the Healing with the Shadow, corresponded with the papal entrance.78

See Frugoni, 76; Cooper and Robson, The making of Assisi, 82-87; Schwarz and Theis, Giottos Werke, 228-229; Theis, “S. Francesco in Assisi,” 158-160; Hueck, “Cimabue,” 279-280; and Belting, Die Oberkirche, 91. 76 See Frugoni, 77-78; and Joseph de Guibert, Dokumente des Lehramtes zum geistlichen Leben, transl. and ed. Stephan Haering and Andreas Wollbold (Freiburg: Herder, 2012), 175. 77 See Traska, Die Gesellschaft der Räume, 155, who considers the open visual rhetoric as the strength of these murals. 78 See Theis, “S. Francesco in Assisi,” 170. 75

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The Papacy (institutional level) By contrast, the preceding efforts for a union of the Eastern and Western Churches speak in favour of a representation of the Roman primacy and its self-image as an institution. Thus, it is to be mentioned that in 1274 at the Second Council of Lyon, at least until the death of Michael VIII in 1282, an agreement could be reached on the question of primacy in favour of Rome.79 Moreover, the persistent conflict between the Holy See and the Crown may have played an important role as well. This controversy culminated in Boniface VIII’s bull Unam sanctam, denominating the Church’s supremacy over the empire, which finally led to the pope’s arrest.80 Saint Francis (local level) Furthermore, this can be considered a reference to St. Francis (c. 11811226), the founder of the Franciscan Order, which is especially honoured in the Basilica of San Francesco. St. Francis saw himself as well as his followers committed to the vita apostolica, which is why it is no surprise that in his testament he mentions the First Epistle of Peter (1 Pet. 2:21):81 “For to this you have been called, because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, so that you might follow in his steps [sequamini vestigia eius].”82 By including different forms, both the inscriptions of the Healing of the Lame (“Christi vestigia sectantes”) as well as the Healing with the Shadow (“nova XII vestigia sequens“) remind the beholder of the Petrine Epistle, which might even explain the kneeling St. Francis in the opposite Crucifixion, recalling Christ’s sufferings. However, at least the cantiere which was responsible for the later executed Expulsion of the Demons from Arezzo was aware of the connection between St. Francis and the vita apostolica, when they adapt Cimabue’s passively

See Christian Lange, Einführung in die allgemeinen Konzilien (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 2012), 73-74. 80 See Herbers, Geschichte des Papsttums, 180-224; and August Franzen, Kleine Kirchengeschichte, 2nd rev. ed. by Bruno Steimer, and Roland Fröhlich (Freiburg: Herder, 2011), 220-222. 81 See note 65 above. 82 See also Frugoni, Quale Francesco?, 89-91. 79

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praying St. Paul and the actively expelling St. Peter from the Flight of Simon Magus.83 Conclusions This study identified the Golden Legend and its apocryphal PseudoClementine core as sources for both the San Piero and the Assisi Healing with the Shadow. This was accomplished by reconsidering locally specific features in San Piero a Grado as actual qualities, such as the rays of light, the inscription, and Federico Visconti’s sermons. In this respect, the apocryphal writings as handed down by Jacobus de Voragine’s hagiographic compilation were of crucial importance, since they enabled artists and/or advisers (probably in Rome, but certainly in Assisi or San Piero) to link the apparition of an immense light (immensum lumen) with St. Peter’s shadow, curing the sick without touch (sine sensu) and without voice (sine voce). These findings also allowed a more precise interpretation of its forerunner in Assisi, hitherto only vaguely denominated as St. Peter Heals the Sick and the Possessed. The uniqueness of St. Peter’s power to heal by means of his shadow was also decisive for functional considerations. As the findings show, historical context and site-specific circumstances caused a functional dualism, in which the idea of primacy constantly resonates because of the murals dedication. Whether or not adopted from the Roman quadriporticus, both in Assisi and San Piero the Healing with the Shadow was consciously chosen and positioned according to the particular situation. Therefore, each example also constitutes an extended, individual function: as a potential pilgrim-magnet in San Piero a Grado and as a church- and order political statement in Assisi. An interesting side result of this study is the possibility to further limit the period for the delivery of Federico Visconti’s sermons at San Piero. Previously dated roughly between 1253 and 1277, the Pisan archbishop’s reference to the “Legende Cathedre” suggests that the sermons were held only after 1260/63, the years when Jacobus de Voragine started to write the Golden Legend. Consequently, Visconti gave his sermons in San Piero most probably between 1260/63 and 1277. Overall, the present study not only expands the knowledge on a famous medieval and early Renaissance iconography as well as its 83

See Frugoni, 99, 286; as well as Schwarz and Theis, Giottos Werke, 337-338. 214

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sources, but also shows how the fortuna critica of works of art may be dominated under the premise of famous successors, forerunners or familiar sources. Especially in the case of the St. Peter Healing with his Shadow in San Piero a Grado such approaches substantially affected its interpretation. Seen against the background of Masaccio’s later Brancacci frescos or the Book of Acts, it was regarded as dysfunctional, for Deodato Orlandi apparently cannot help but replace the crucial feature of the shadow by the depiction of some rays of light. Given the (assumed) example in the quadriporticus of Old St. Peter or the (existent) fresco in the Upper Church of San Francesco in Assisi, it was assessed as a mere copy. Although such compositional dependencies are in fact highly probable and, as Jens Wollesen suggested, most likely mediated via detailed “iconographic guides”,84 both approaches tend to disqualify examples like the one in San Piero a Grado as subordinate minor works. Therefore, important iconographical and functional implications may get lost. This also applies to the content of authentic inscriptions, which in the case of Cimabue’s St. Peter Healing with his Shadow were previously omitted, but offered new insights to functional aspects of the Assisi “Apostolorum Gloriosissimus Princeps Petrus.”85 References Primary sources Cennini, Cennino. Il libro dell’arte. Edited by Fabio Frezzato. 7th ed. Vicenza: Neri Pozza Editore, 2012. Nicolaus de Lyra. Postilla super totam Bibliam. Straßburg: 1492 Edition. 4 Vols. Reprinted Frankfurt am Main: Minerva, 1971. Pseudo-Clementine. Rekognitionen in Rufins Übersetzung. Vol. 2 of Die Pseudoklementinen, edited by Bernhard Rehm. 2nd rev. Berlin: Akademie Verlag, 1994. Vasari, Giorgio. Das Leben des Masolino, des Masaccio, des Gentile da Fabriano und des Pisanello. ed. Christina Posselt, trans. Victoria Lorini. Berlin: Klaus Wagenbach, 2011.

See Wollesen, Die Fresken, 113-116. Finally I want to thank Mag.a Esther Greussing for her constant support, the advisory board and fellows of the Vienna Doctoral Academy – Medieval Academy, and Prof. Dr. Michael Viktor Schwarz for his constructive criticism and advice. 84 85

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Visconti, Federico. Les sermons et la visite pastorale de Federico Visconti archevêque de Pise (1253-1277). Edited by Nicole Bériou and Isabelle le Masne de Chermont. Rome: École Française de Rome, 2001. Voragine, Jacobus de. Legenda Aurea. Edited by Giovanni Paolo Maggioni. 2nd ed. 2 vols. Florence: SISMEL Edizioni del Galluzzo, 1998. _____. The Golden Legend: Readings on the Saints. Translated by William Granger Ryan. Introduced by Eamon Duffy. Princeton (NJ): Princeton University Press, 2012. ____. Legenda Aurea. Edited by Bruno W. Häuptli. 2 vols. Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder, 2014.

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_____. “Benedetto Gaetani e gli affreschi di Deodato Orlandi nella Basilica di San Piero a Grado presso Pisa: I motivi storico-politici di una pubblica committenza.” In Girate per Pisa: Schede 1985-1991, 157-170. Pisa: Edizioni Offset Grafica, 1993. Stoichita, Victor I. A Short History of the Shadow. London: Reaktion Books, 1997. Supino, Igino Benvenuto. Arte pisana. Florence: Alinari, 1904. Theis, Pia, “S. Francesco in Assisi: Eine Palastkirche des Papstes zwischen Rom und Avignon,” PhD diss., University of Vienna, 2001. Tolaini, Emilio. Lo sposalizio del mare e altri saggi su San Piero a Grado. Pisa: Edizioni ETS, 2004. Traska, Georg. Die Gesellschaft der Räume: Laikale und bürgerliche Handlungsräume in der italienischen Malerei und Literatur um 1300. Weimar: VDG, 2009. Waetzoldt, Stephan. Die Kopien des 17. Jahrhunderts nach Mosaiken und Wandmalereien in Rom. Vienna: Schroll-Verlag, 1964. Weiss, Adolf. “Ein Petruszyklus des 7. Jahrhunderts im Querschiff der Vatikanischen Basilika.“ Römische Quartalschrift 58 (1968): 230-270. Wollesen, Jens T. Die Fresken von San Piero a Grado. Bad Oeynhausen: BadDruckerei Adalbert Theine, 1977.

Photo credits Fig. 1. The author’s archive, with kind permission of the Prefettura di Firenze. Figs. 2, 3, 4: The author’s archive. Fig. 5. Bacci, “The Pisan Relic,” , p. 219, Fig. 7, with kind permission of the photographer Prof. Michele Bacci. Figs. 6, 7. Bonsanti, La Basilica di San Francesco. 2nd Vol. Atlante: Basilica Superiore, p. 1031, 1035, Figs. 2044, 2040, with kind permission of the photographer Gabriele Roli.

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