The notion that curse tablets were used to cause harm whereas amulets were used to provide protection is a misleading oversimplification. Curse tablets have often been removed from the category of religion and consigned to the illusive one of magic. However, the existence of those tablets designated as prayers for justice illustrates that the desires which drove curse tablet creation were varied. To ascertain to what extent the use of curse tablets and amulets fitted in with polis religion, different aspects of them are examined, such as the ritualistic nature of their creation, their use of formulaic inscriptions and evidence for their use, or lack of use, of reciprocity. Examples of amulets and curse tablets are presented from the fourth century BCE through to the second century CE and from a large geographical scope. Examples from across the Greek world illustrate a paradoxical unity and sense of religious community amongst those who engaged in these practices. The incredibly personal nature of the inscriptions on curse tablets and the wearing of amulets provides an insight into Greek religious practice at an individual level.

This chapter explores personal religion in some of Plato’s dialogues. First, focusing on the Apology and Euthyphro, it considers Socrates’ daimonic sign and how far Socrates expresses religious attitudes independent from, in line with, or opposed to those foregrounded or sanctioned in Athens. Second, it turns to Plato’s Laws and examines the Stranger’s vision for civic religion in the imagined city of Magnesia and his prohibitions of private worship. Finally, it considers how philosophical inquiry can itself constitute personal religion. Overall, it argues that Plato does not evince a single attitude towards all the phenomena we might classify as personal religion. That the Stranger outlaws some central aspects of personal religion does not mean that he proscribes all others; we should resist the old idea that Socrates would have fallen afoul of Magnesia’s laws. While the Stranger excludes a culture of free speech of which the Socrates of the early dialogues avails himself, Magnesia is not Athens. For Plato, how far expressions of personal religion should be countenanced, regulated, or proscribed by the city turns on the nature of the city in which that question is raised.

The first set of chapters operates at the level of patrons and their communities—imperial and local—to grapple with architectural rebuilding as a mechanism through which shared pasts, presents, and futures were articulated and substantiated. Chapter 1 examines architectural rebuilding as an ideological virtue. In particular, it looks to evidence from Roman and late antique histories, coins, and inscribed statue bases to chart the place and shape of architectural rebuilding (in comparison with and juxtaposition to new construction projects) within the broader commemorative landscape of honor and virtue in cities across the Mediterranean.

Chapter 1 examines the law’s role in defining status – free and unfree, male and female, citizen and non-citizen, including the acquisition, proof, and nature of citizenship, the position of Latins, the rights and responsibilities of citizens. Important routes to citizenship were grants by the emperor to individuals including soldiers in the auxiliary regiments, and groups or communities, and by manumission of slaves. This was a long-standing trend until Caracalla granted universal citizenship. The main social groups were senators and equites, but their status was hedged in by legal restrictions since Augustus placed great emphasis on social responsibility and the integrity of the upper classes. Outside this group the plebs and ex-slaves had a role to play, and the latter had a complicated position within the social hierarchy; often wealthy and successful (especially imperial freedmen) they were resented by the freeborn.

Chapter 8: In constitutional terms the emperor operated under the law and Tiberius noted the importance of the law in imperial actions, though it came to be accepted that emperors were also free from the constraint of the laws. The emperor, receiving his power by statute, could himself make law or change administrative procedures, which he did by edict or letter or suggestion or speech in the senate or by instructions to governors. The emperor was deeply involved in the process of the law by holding judicial hearings, dealing with appeals from Roman citizens on a capital charge, and responding to individual petitions from all over the empire on a wide range of issues both personal and legal; it was part of the emperor’s role to be accessible.

This chapter highlights the dual function of theōria– the practice of travelling to witness extraordinary spectacles – as a communal activity and a deeply personal religious experience. Using the festival of the Theoxenia as a case study, this chapter explores the personal and shared experiences of the performers of Pindar’s Sixth Paean; these include awe, belonging, and cooperation – emotions vital to the festival’s success and born of rigorous training in complex choreographic routines. Furthermore, this chapter posits that choral poetry and performance are intrinsically linked, as the structure of poetry supports dancers’ coordination and learning. The resulting profound awe among performers and spectators is not only a testament to human collaboration but also prepares participants for divine encounters. Ultimately, the personal experiences in these festivals underscore the importance of individual emotional journeys in achieving successful communal rites. These individual accounts reveal how personal examination and preparation for divine interaction enhance the collective experience and highlight the transformative power of theōria on those who learn to dance together.

Moving from revised buildings’ monumental texts to their material surfaces and spatial arrangements, the book’s final section expands our investigation into "unmarked" ways in which new contexts reframed old elements. Chapter 7 argues that change over time was regularly characterized and symbolized in terms of vividly contrasting architectural substances, in which marble (especially) was used to chart (and critique) urban progress and to modulate a balance between tradition and innovation.

The suite of chapters comprising Part II homes in on monumental building inscriptions as central means through which individual buildings shaped perceptions of their own architectural histories and of temporal change more broadly. The first of these, Chapter 4, investigates assemblages of epigraphic records of architectural interventions that accumulated on buildings over their long ancient lives. The chapter’s analysis of these encrusted epigraphic environments charts a range of strategies that benefactors adopted in setting up their own commemorative texts vis à vis those of earlier patrons and considers the effects of those decisions on the inscriptions’ reception by contemporary audiences.

This opening chapter sets out the framework for a more systematic discussion of ancient Greek personal religion in the subsequent chapters. It starts from a working definition of personal religion by clarifying its relationship to the much better documented civic dimension of ancient Greek religion. Its core consists of a substantial historiographic section that grounds the study of personal religion in the larger trends that have shaped and continue to shape the study of the religions of the ancient world – including parallel developments in the study of Roman religion. Taking stock of where we stand helps us to sketch out what is at stake in foregrounding individual religious beliefs and practices and how they fit into our understanding of ancient Greek religion more broadly conceived.

This chapter explores the personal dimension of Greek religion through the archaeological evidence for votives in Archaic and Classical Greece. Dedications serve as a prime example of how ancient worship could simultaneously be personal, civic, individual and collective. They point to how these aspects can and should be studied together to achieve a more comprehensive understanding of how people communicated with the gods. Traditionally, small dedications have been more closely associated with the individual, while large dedications (e.g. statues) are frequently studied as civic monuments. Through two case studies – textile dedications at Brauron and korai on the Acropolis – the chapter breaks down these divides. We consider the varying ways in which we can define ‘personal’ in relation to different types of dedications and in relation to different aspects of the dedicatory act. Using a combination of embodied, sensorial, emotional, theological and experiential perspectives, the chapter shows how worshippers used dedications to negotiate the relationship between personal engagement with the divine and their understanding of the communal aspects of religion.