Crede mihi, plus est, quam quod videatur imago.
Believe me, the image is more than it appears.
Introduction
In this chapter, I examine a textual description of a ritual event of the late fourth century. While the document provides many details, it also lacks information on some elements which interest modern scholars. The text mentions people ritually interacting with objects. It is evident that these objects have a highly symbolic value for the participants, whether they were actual relics from the past or recent constructs. I find that Ovid’s saying (above) supports the approach I will be using. Erwin Goodenough comments on Ovid’s saying:
a symbol is an image or design with a significance, to the one who uses it, quite beyond its manifest content … we may say that a symbol is an object or a pattern which, whatever the reason may be, operates on men [people] and causes effect in them, beyond mere recognition of what is literally presented in the given form.Footnote 2
I apply this insight to the ritual objects discussed below. I argue that beneath their surface appearance the objects have layers of significance which become apparent when we consider them as props used in a ritual drama by a community of actor-participants. I agree with Iafrate’s comments on Solomon’s ring: ‘Since … the Bible [does not make] explicit mention of the object, there was ample room to craft a powerful device. I shall therefore try to highlight not the reality of the thing itself but its symbolic ontology.’Footnote 3 I argue that the symbolic ontology of these crafted artifacts – that is, the importance or reality ascribed to them – is best understood in the synergistic relationship between objects (props) in the ritual drama and through the group experience and physical sensations of the pilgrims as they encounter the object in ritual.
A fourth-century pilgrim, Egeria, describes a dramatic moment in Easter worship in Jerusalem. She says that her fellow pilgrims interacted with several objects: the wood of the true cross, the inscription which had been over Jesus’s head at crucifixion, a ring of Solomon and the horn used to anoint the kings of ancient Israel. As a historian, I estimate the following. Any piece of wood found in the vicinity could be identified as a fragment of the cross. However, to have an artifact with specific writing on it suggests a constructed object. It is extremely unlikely that the actual inscription – assuming there had been one – would have survived. Further, to assert that a ring of Solomon or the anointing horn of the kings of Israel had survived the Babylonian invasion of almost a thousand years prior to Egeria strains modern credulity. It is for these reasons that these objects have not been discussed at length in scholarship – they have not been taken seriously.Footnote 4
I take the objects seriously – as the props used in a ritual drama. Props in a play take on a heightened reality – that is, they function as and become the things they represent – for the actors and audience of the drama. Thus, the title of this chapter is a deliberate pun. I analyse artifacts in this ritual as props – objects used in a drama. For the pilgrim/actor, these things also are props (i.e. supports) for their faith. Here, I am guided by the observation of the anthropologist Clifford Geertz: ‘it is out of the context of concrete acts of religious observance that religious conviction emerges on the human plane … Ritual provides not only models OF what people believe, but models FOR the believing of it. In these plasticFootnote 5 dramas [people] attain their faith as they portray it.’Footnote 6
The props are key elements in the ritual drama, helping to enliven and enrich the experience for the pilgrim/actors.Footnote 7 Through touch and intense gaze in a small and communal setting, the pilgrims vividly experience key historical events valued in their community. The past becomes the present in the ritual moment.
Cognitive Theories: Ritual, Theatricality, Performance, and Place
In this section, I review several theories from ritual studies, archaeology, place theory, and theatre studies. These concepts give a useful analytical framework to apply to the primary data. While distinctions could be made between secular theatre and sacred ritual, the points of comparison and similarity between the two realms provide worthwhile areas to investigate and gave me new ways to see and understand the ancient material.
In the section ‘Staging and Theatricality in Cult’ in his chapter ‘Emotion and Theatricality in Religious Celebrations,’ Chaniotis observes:
Exactly as there is no ritual without an emotional background and an emotional impact, there is no ritual without a form of staging. The staging of rituals takes aesthetics, order, and performance into consideration. Theatricality is a particular aspect of staging. As theatricality I understand the effort of individuals or groups to construct an image which is at least in part deceiving, because it either is in contrast to reality or because it exaggerates or partly distorts reality.Footnote 8
To the issue of so-called deception (I prefer ‘theatrical emphasis’) I add the construction and use of props, which in Egeria’s veneration of the cross ritual represent historical objects. Chaniotis alludes to this element, in his comment that ‘images and other devices that appeal to the senses (statues, torches, incense, colours)’ help to ‘construct an illusion and control the emotions and thoughts of others’.Footnote 9
For my reconstruction of the specific ritual space mentioned by Egeria, I was informed by the work of Anne Marie Yasin.Footnote 10 Yasin notes that in Christian usage, relics and sacred objects framed the worship space. They typically were placed in sight-lines to the altar (either at the entrance to the room or behind the altar) and functioned in part to legitimate the EucharistFootnote 11 offered at the altar. Thus, I speculate that, even in Egeria’s early pilgrimage, the objects would have mostly likely been housed at the ante-room or entrance to the chapel.Footnote 12
In Geography Studies, some scholars investigate the phenomenology of space from a humanistic framework. They analyse how space is experienced and shaped by participants within it. The following comments by Cresswell provide useful insights for my analysis of the ritual space in Egeria’s description: ‘When humans invest meaning in a portion of space and then become attached to it in some way … it becomes a place.’Footnote 13 ‘Places are never finished but always the result of processes and practices … Place, then, needs to be understood as embodied relationship with the world. Places are constructed by people doing things and in this sense are never “finished” but are constantly being performed.’Footnote 14
Cresswell suggests that it is helpful to distinguish between undifferentiated and un-purposed space, and place which is used by humans for one or more purposes. Understood in this way, place is a social construct. Place does not simply exist intrinsically or in an a priori way. It arises through things which happen there as performed by a particular group. Here are some examples. When people go into a building to deposit or withdraw their money and receive financial advice, that building is a bank. When the building manager of that bank takes his young son there on a Sunday (off-hours), the same building becomes a castle/playground for the boy. A building where worshippers enact sacred rituals is a church, but the same building is repurposed and with modifications becomes a restaurant. It is then used by diners to enjoy a fine meal (a different sort of nutrition from that provided by the simple bread and wine of communion). When a building no longer has people in it doing things, we call it derelict or abandoned. A human settlement which no longer has occupants yet still has buildings and streets is called a ghost town. The house of a public figure may be preserved as a historical site or tourist attraction. Cresswell’s comment on embodiment is valuable. The transformation of space into place is more than conceptual/cognitive (existing in the minds of people). The transformation is not because people think a space is X; rather, it is achieved by persons through the physical actions their bodies perform in the space – as we will see in Egeria’s case walking in and out of a room, standing in line, kissing and touching physical objects, interacting with officiants and other participants in the ritual all make a room into a sacred or socially valued place.Footnote 15
We are confronted by the fluid nature of space into place as social construct. What had been a store-room or treasure vault is transformed by virtue of the acts of worship and veneration which take place there into a place for a special communion service and the veneration of sacred relics. Cresswell’s theory allows us to see the place not as a given or static location, but as a dynamic, shifting process. Then, we can also ask: what connects each of the moments enacted within the place?Footnote 16
Cresswell’s comment on the performance of place leads to the next theoretical area which informs this chapter, the Performance Theory developed by Schechner.Footnote 17 Schechner’s analysis is insightful, suggesting a close relation between ritual and theatre. The following chart summarises and adapts Schechner’s model (Figure 5.1). The categories on the right and left of the chart are polarised, but Schechner notes ‘whether one calls a specific performance ritual or theatre depends mostly on context and function … No performance is pure efficacy or pure entertainment.’Footnote 18
Diagram of Performance Theory based on Reference SchechnerSchechner 1988: 106–52, made by the author
Here, the first category of Theatre is equated with conventional, Western, mainstream, aesthetic theatre. The second category, variously called avant-garde, experimental, guerrilla, or street theatre, exists in a grey or transition zone between the polarised extremes of Theatre and Ritual. Avant-garde drama moves performance out of the theatre and into the street or community – towards the issues of efficacy and active audience participation which are the hallmarks of ritual. Avant-garde drama seeks to make a political and social statement, to effect change. This is an extremely important point. It suggests that there need not be a strict polarisation between theatre and ritual. Certain types of theatre deliberately engage the efficacy that is thought to happen in ritual by participants. We can take theatre seriously – as more than entertainment.
Schechner’s theory is helpful in analysing the ritual moment of the veneration of the cross as described by Egeria. I argue that Egeria, the other pilgrims and worshippers, and the bishop and deacons are actors in a ritual drama. What they do together as an ensemble in their small space creates a sacred reality for them – it has efficacy as they experience it. The veneration of historical relics experientially links the participants to a cherished, sacred past. Schechner’s observation that avant-garde theatre blurs the distinction between actor and audience is consistent with my proposal that Egeria and her fellow pilgrims are actors and audience in their ritual drama.
Finally, the focal point of Egeria’s ritual drama, indeed the raison d’être for the moment, is the wood of the so-called true cross and assorted other objects which play a supporting role in its veneration. I consider these to be props in a sacred drama. Sofer offers a number of valuable points for my analysis: ‘On the mostly bare stage of an Elizabethan playhouse, props are both searing visual emblems and vital participants in the stage action. A production of Richard II without the crown, or Othello without the handkerchief, or Hamlet without Yorick’s skull, is unthinkable.’Footnote 19
‘[Props can be] … more than just three-dimensional symbols; they are part of the material fabric of the play in performance. Enlivened by the actor’s touch, charged by the playwright’s dialogue, and quickened in the spectator’s imagination, they take on a life of their own as they weave in and out of the stage action.’Footnote 20 ‘[A prop can be defined as] … a discrete, material, inanimate object that is visibly manipulated by an actor in the course of a performance … a stage object must be ‘triggered’ by an actor in order to be a prop.’Footnote 21 Sofer notes that props can serve as aids to the actor. Interaction with an appropriate object grounds the performance and enlivens the characterization of an actor.Footnote 22
Here is an important point for the present analysis – it is in the actor’s physical engagement (typically touch) that an object in a play becomes a prop. Egeria describes kissing objects, gazing intently at them (‘touching’ with the eyes). She describes how the bishop firmly grasps the wood of the cross, and that deacons hold other objects. I argue that these objects are functional focal-points for the devotional aspects of the ritual experience. Handling these physical objects and interacting with them intensified the emotional experience of the pilgrims and establishes them as actors in the drama.Footnote 23 Egeria may have had a richer experience with these objects than others, due to her apparent level of education. However, the professional actor in London’s West End and the amateur performer in a community playhouse both use props to enrich and vivify their performance. The point of my analysis is this: any pilgrim would have had a special experience as she/he made use of the ritual objects (props) in the Good Friday service.
There is one other significant point to be gleaned from Sofer’s analysis. A stage object, used as a prop in many productions or through convention, may take on a symbolic value larger than itself or the dramatic moment.Footnote 24 Sofer notes that Polish semioticians have explored the symbolic layers of props. A material object in a play absorbs the abstract connotations associated with the object it represents. A simple chair becomes a magnificent throne and signifies ‘royalty’. Costume jewellery becomes real jewellery and signifies ‘wealth’. In Chekov’s play The Seagull, a stuffed seagull (the prop) is a sign of a recently killed seagull, which is a sign of an abstract idea (failed hopes), which is a sign of the hero’s mood in the play.Footnote 25 In Part II, I show how the artifacts in Egeria’s ritual have such layers of meaning. Thus, we see that a lack of historicity or the constructed nature of objects does not impede their ritual use as signs of the sacred in a ritual drama, and is certainly no excuse for our underestimating their value or role in ritual drama. A scrap of wood, venerated by pilgrims over many years, became a social fact – for those people, it was the true cross.
Part I Egeria’s Good Friday Ritual Experience
Who Was Egeria?
Egeria has received some good studies in recent years.Footnote 26 Egeria’s text is a late fourth-century CE travel account (Itinerarium) written in Latin. It is a pilgrimage narrative, a diary and travelogue written as an extended letter addressed to the author’s sisters in faith back home. It is written in the first person, and purports to be an eyewitness account. The text was discovered in 1884, in a copy preserved in an eleventh-century codex. There is only one copy. The text is a substantial but incomplete (having some lacunae) narrative of a three-year journey of a devout Christian woman to various places in Egypt, Palestine, and Syria on pilgrimage at a time when pilgrimage was still a recent phenomenon in Christianity and women rarely wrote ‘public’ documents. The author is not named in the manuscript; her identity is suggested by inference from the content and style of the text, and how the text lines up with other traditions. She is called by different names in scholarly analysis. Formerly identified as Silvia of Aquitaine, now she is seen as Eutheria or Egeria of Galicia. These inferences are based on references in various manuscripts from the seventh to ninth centuries which refer to a female pilgrim and her writings.Footnote 27
We assume that Egeria was a woman from Northwestern Spain (the region of Galicia), writing an account for her sisters in a religious community there. She probably visited the Holy Land around 381–384 CE. Wilkinson notes, ‘She went to great trouble to record everything with which her sisters might visualize what they read in the Bible.’Footnote 28 The text reveals a diligent traveller with enthusiasm and lively interest sustained through what would have been an arduous journey. All the places are beautiful in her description; all the people she meets have great piety. Her account is more than a catalogue of places she saw – we get a sense of the physical sensations and emotional impact of the experiences she and her fellow pilgrims share. Two examples illustrate this issue: ‘There are a great many people and they have been crowded together, tired by their vigil, and weakened by their daily fasting, and they have had a very big hill to go down – so they go very slowly on their way to Gethsemane.’Footnote 29 ‘When everyone arrives at Gethsemane, they have an appropriate prayer, a hymn, and then a reading from the Gospel about the Lord’s arrest. By the time it has been read everyone is groaning and lamenting and weeping so loud that people even across the city can probably hear it all.’Footnote 30
As is typical of pilgrims, Egeria wants to experience proof of historical episodes of her faith by directly seeing and experiencing sites associated with episodes in sacred texts (both Old and New Testaments). Pilgrimage in Christianity was a recent development. The Churches of the Nativity, Annunciation, and Holy Sepulchre were built and sacralised through efforts of the emperor Constantine and his mother Helen in early fourth century CE. Egeria’s text reflects the first-hand observations of a pilgrim to what would have been a relatively new site.
The Good Friday Event As Reported by Egeria
Egeria’s account is from sometime in the early 380s CE. The overall text is wide-ranging in its descriptions of locations visited. In this chapter I am examining one micro-moment: the veneration of objects during a portion of the Good Friday service in Jerusalem. By the fourth century, Christianity had developed an extended series of worship services commemorating and ritually enacting the dramatic events of the last week of Jesus’s life. In particular, the sequence of events leading from the Last Supper (Thursday) to arrest and crucifixion (Good Friday) to entombment (Holy Saturday) culminating in resurrection (Easter Sunday) were marked by intense prayers, scripture readings, and vigils. In Jerusalem, pilgrims experienced what they considered to be the very sites where the sacred events took place, and Egeria reports many processions from place to place.
In Egeria’s account of the Good Friday morning service, the pilgrims encounter the wood of Jesus’s cross and the inscription which had been at the head of the cross. These they ‘touch’ with their eyes and kiss, under the supervision of the bishop of Jerusalem and attendants. They then move to a second station, where they kiss the anointing horn of the kings of Israel and ‘attend to’ (venerate or gaze at) the ring of Solomon.Footnote 31 In assessing the event as reported by Egeria, we face the constraint that we are reliant upon her memory and description. Perhaps other pilgrims did things differently or had different impressions: this issue is true of Egeria’s report generally but arguably is most noticeable here, when we are paying particularly close scrutiny to a small but significant ritual. Thus, in a later section (‘Larger Context’) I consult other reports which corroborate Egeria’s report. Here is Egeria’s account of this episode. We note how the objects are handled ritually:
(37.1) A throne is set up for the bishop on Golgotha behind the Cross, which now stands there. The bishop sits on his throne, a table covered with linen cloth is set before him, and the deacons stand around the table. The gilded silver casket containing the sacred wood of the cross is brought in and opened. Both the wood of the cross and the inscription are taken out and placed on the table. (37.2) As soon as they have been placed on the table, the bishop, remaining seated, grips the ends of the sacred wood with his hands, while the deacons, who are standing about, keep watch over it. There is a reason why it is guarded in this manner. It is the practice here for all the people to come forth one by one, the faithful as well as the catechumens, to bow down before the table, kiss the holy wood, and then move on. It is said that someone (I do not know when) took a bite and stole a piece of the holy cross. Therefore, it is now guarded by the deacons standing around, lest there be anyone who would dare come and do that again.Footnote 32 (37.3) All the people pass through one by one; all of them bow down, touching the cross and the inscription, first with their foreheads, then with their eyes; and, after kissing the cross, they move on. No one, however, puts out his hand to touch the cross. As soon as they have kissed the cross and passed on through, a deacon, who is standing, holds out the ring of Solomon and the phial [horn] with which the kings were anointed. They kiss the phial and venerate the ring from more or less the second hour; and thus until the sixth hour all the people pass through, entering through one door, exiting through another. All this occurs in the place where the day before, on Thursday, the sacrifice [Eucharist] was offered.Footnote 33
Thoughts on the Ritual Moment As Described by Egeria
Scholars and archaeologists have offered many reconstructions of the fourth- and fifth-century sites of Constantine’s basilica church (the Martyrium) and the Anastasis (Resurrection) shrine (Figure 5.2). There are obstacles to achieving a full and accurate reconstruction of the area, including the destruction and reconstruction of the site and the ongoing use of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre by Christian pilgrims of several denominations into the present day. Some scholars of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre appear not to have consulted Egeria’s account. It was discovered in the late nineteenth century, and by then some archaeologists had drawn up their plans. Also, her text is ambiguous in some of its terms. The writer does not refer to locations in a rigorous and exclusive manner, giving some places more than one name. Perhaps nomenclature had not been fully standardised at her time. My own reading of her text has led me to estimate that, in addition to the large basilica and the important Anastasis (site of the supposed tomb and resurrection), there was a small church or chapel in the immediate vicinity of Golgotha (Figure 5.2). The reasons for this estimation are technical, based on a close reading of Egeria’s text, and I mention them briefly here.
Reconstruction of the Constantinian Church of the Holy Sepulchre reworked by the author after Reference CorboCorbo (1983), Il Santo Sepolcro di Gerusalemme, pl.3
Egeria states that only two events happen in the space. First, there is a Holy Thursday Eucharist. Egeria is explicit on this point: it was only said here once, at that time. Second, there is the Good Friday veneration of the cross and relics. Scholars disagree whether the space in question is a small chapel which was part of the Basilica, or whether it was a separate room. Egeria’s comments about people proceeding in and out of a room through doors suggest to me and some French archaeologists a small room, distinct from the main worship sites in the vicinity (Figure 5.2).Footnote 34 Gingras described it thus: ‘[a] small, roofed-in chapel behind the Cross at the SE angle of the great atrium’.Footnote 35
Chapels within a basilica typically do not have doors, but rather have an open entrance or pierced screen between themselves and the main worship space. At this early stage of church architecture, variations are certainly possible – but again it seems most reasonable to read Egeria in a straightforward way and assume that the space was a free-standing building and accessed – as she says – by various doors.Footnote 36 The ritual would have been small-scale, intimate, and therefore emotionally intense.Footnote 37 I assume that the room is not large, the best-case scenario (following Coüasnon) being 8 metres x 8 metres (Figure 5.3). Such a space could hold the bishop and deacons, and perhaps ten to fifteen people at a time. Others would have to line up to enter. Lining-up creates feelings of curiosity, anticipation, and excitement. The service took place from 8:00 am to noon – four hours in duration. So, we can speculate on a large crowd wanting to venerate the objects, which are apparently housed in a small space – adding to the intensity of the experience. The closed-room atmosphere would be different from Egeria (or any pilgrim) visiting a site in the open air.Footnote 38
The veneration ritual structurally resembles the ritual of receiving holy communion. In both cases the bishop officiates, assisted by deacons. People process to and from a table, and interact one by one with sacred objects.Footnote 39 We may suppose that there were practical considerations of how to manage a large number of people wishing to participate in the ritual.
Procession is a ritual act to symbolise a group acting in unison.Footnote 40 It is a visible sign of the group. So, as with the case of the Eucharist ritual, procession and interaction in the veneration of relics is a group-creating and -maintaining enterprise. We are told that people interact ‘one by one’ – but in the procession they could be grouped as friends, couples, or family units. This would facilitate conversation and could increase the engagement of participants.
While there are similarities between the ritual of Eucharist and that of veneration of the relics, there also are differences. These differences suggest that the officiants of the veneration ritual recognised and wanted to create an awareness of those differences. The principal difference is that the altar is not used for the veneration ritual. We suspect there was an altar in the room (given Egeria’s reference to Eucharist being performed there), and the altar probably would have been a permanent fixture – not moveable. For the veneration ritual, a throne (cathedra) is brought in for the bishop, as is a special table. It is a portable table covered with a linen cloth, which conveyed a sign of purity. Another difference is that the baptised and catechumens may participate – unlike at communion. So, here there were children in the procession as well as adults. Thus, we suppose that Eucharist was felt to be the more sacred of the two rituals, and the veneration ritual both drew from it and yet distinguished itself in subtle ways.
Two or more deacons are the security detail: enforcing order, doing crowd control. One or two deacons hold other objects for veneration. The objects were housed in a gilded silver casket. Use of the precious metal silver suggests the value and respect given to the objects inside. In addition, we can consider the pleasant sensory aspects of silver: it shines, it reflects light and colour, and it absorbs the warmth of those who touch it.Footnote 41 Further, the objects are brought in to the space from some undisclosed area. Influenced by Yasin’s observation of the importance of sightlines, I suppose that the artifacts were stored in an arca (locked box) which in Roman homes held domestic valuables and often was displayed in the atrium or assembly area. Such a position in the chapel at Jerusalem would be in a direct line to the altar, and also the temporary table.Footnote 42 The bringing-in of the objects adds to the sense of mystery and importance.
Material culture is essential in any pilgrimage. The general theme in Egeria’s pilgrimage account is ‘proofs of faith’ – often involving seeing the physical locations she has heard about or read about in Biblical accounts.Footnote 43 But in the veneration rituals, we learn of touch of physical objects. We note the intimacy which touch provides – there are elements of proximity, sensuality, connectedness, and contact. Through touch, the people ritually engage with the objects, transforming them into their own personal sacred relics. We also note carefully defined forms of touch: looking intently with the eyes, touching with the forehead (bowing), and then with lips (kissing). To touch with hands would be too secular an action – and we suspect there is a prohibition against touching with the hands.Footnote 44 Here, we are informed by Cyril’s comments how to touch the bread and wine of the Eucharist, discussed in the next section.
From the perspective of ritual drama, the actions in the room draw on the associations of the location (Golgotha, the supposed site of Jesus’s crucifixion). And the element of time is evoked through the structured liturgical calendar. The Thursday mass anticipates Jesus’s crucifixion, and the Friday veneration commemorates it. Time (calendar) and space (location) are brought together in these rituals.
My other points concerning the space are conjectural but reasonable. Lacking any description from Egeria, we imagine what the room might have been like. If the room was a small chapel and store room, it might not have had either clerestory or street-level windows. Thus, light coming into the room would primarily have been through the doors when and as they opened, plus that provided by lamps. The room might have been simply or minimally decorated. Perhaps most attention was intended to be on the objects and the officials. We conjecture the presence of some frescoes with cross shapes on them. Post-Constantine periods see the emergence of the cross as a popular symbol, and its appearance here in a relics room would be particularly appropriate.Footnote 45 The Bishop and deacons would have gowns with decoration. Perhaps incense was burning. These features would add to the sensory landscape in the small room. Each pilgrim would perhaps have had only a moment to look intently at the objects before moving on. Yet, the moment would have been unforgettable, as it was for Egeria.
Cyril of Jerusalem’s Description of the Eucharist: A Prototype for Egeria’s Ritual?
In assessing Egeria’s account, we are limited by the amount and kind of information she provides: her report is impressionistic and subjective. We wish for other testimony, or at least other evidence. The material noted in the next section by later pilgrims provides confirmation of what Egeria has said.Footnote 46 And, there may be another source we can consult. The bishop of Jerusalem at the time of Egeria was Cyril. He had served in this capacity since 350 CE. A series of depositions and exiles ensued (not untypical for bishops in the early post-Constantine period), but Cyril had a knack for returning from each set-back, and he served as bishop of Jerusalem intermittently until his death in 386 CE. We have Cyril’s catechetical and sacramental lectures, a detailed set of baptismal instructions and comments given to candidates for baptism and the newly baptised. These were first delivered in 350 CE, almost forty years before Egeria’s visit, and it appears that the text was read aloud every year. Although Cyril’s authorship of these texts has been questioned by some scholars, I side with the many who affirm Cyril as author and who see him as an innovative theologian and liturgist.Footnote 47
Wilkinson draws attention to the similarity of ritual action and concepts between Cyril’s comments on the celebration of the Eucharist in Jerusalem and the veneration of relics described by Egeria.Footnote 48 Cyril appears to have designed both of these rituals, and he may have modelled the later ritual of the veneration of cross and other objects on the Eucharist ritual which he had established earlier.Footnote 49 Cyril speaks of ‘hallowing the senses’ in looking at the communion bread and tasting the wine, and that sort of concept may have also informed the intent gaze and kissing gestures we see in Egeria’s account. We also see similarities in procession, administration by bishop, and one-on-one engagement by the worshippers. We gain insights into the veneration ritual by examining Cyril’s comments on receiving the Eucharist. I summarise Wilkinson’s findings in Figure 5.4.
Comparison of Cyril and Egeria’s Ritual Experience, based on Reference WilkinsonWilkinson 2006
Here are Cyril’s comments:
Coming up to receive [the Bread], therefore, do not approach with your wrists extended or your fingers splayed, but making your left hand a throne (for it is about to receive a King)Footnote 50 and cupping your palm, so receive the Body of Christ … Carefully hallow your eyes by the touch of the sacred Body [look carefully at the Bread] and then partake.
… approach also the chalice of His Blood. Do not stretch out your hands … sanctify yourself by receiving also the Blood of Christ. While it is still warm upon your lips, moisten your fingers with it and so sanctify your eyes, your forehead, and other organs of sense.
Cyril suggests anointingFootnote 53 the various sense organs with sanctified wine – a dramatic and novel gesture. He has also spoken about sanctifying the eyes through careful and attentive gaze. These features may give us clues into concepts behind the ritual in which Egeria participates. To be sure, her ritual is veneration of objects rather than participation in the sacrament of Eucharist, but we may suppose a similar if perhaps slightly diminished reverence at work.Footnote 54
Placing Egeria’s Report in a Larger Context
As noted above, Egeria’s report is full of detail but it is based on what interests her. Other things may have been present, but she may not write of them. What follows is all the data on early pilgrimage to Jerusalem, and the objects and rituals of the Good Friday morning service. We use this material to supplement Egeria’s text, and to provide a contextual background. The anonymous Pilgrim of Bordeaux (circa 333 CE)Footnote 55 offers our first glimpse into pilgrimage to Jerusalem. The text is pre-Constantine, and in particular it is prior to the construction and dedication of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Relevant for this study, the Pilgrim mentions visiting a crypt of Solomon, where it was thought the king had exorcized demons. The fact that there was a site at such an early date indicates interest in the figure of Solomon as an exorcist. I develop my argument about the symbolic function of Solomon’s ring in Egeria’s ritual in Part II.
The church of the Holy Sepulchre was built 326–335 CE, both the basilica (some sources refer to it as the Martyrion or Martyrium) and rotunda (the Anastasis) (Figures 5.2 and 5.3). It was consecrated in 335 CE. Cyril served as bishop of Jerusalem from 350–386 CE. In texts attributed to him, there is no mention of the objects or ritual described by Egeria’s account of the veneration of relics, though his baptismal liturgy may have shaped the ritual of veneration (see the discussion above). Cyril provides evidence of episcopal exorcism during the baptismal liturgy in Jerusalem, a point I develop in a later section in relation to the symbolism of Solomon’s ring.Footnote 56 Egeria’s account is sometime in the early 380s CE. Her text is the focal point of this investigation, and the texts below confirm some of the details she mentions. An anonymous document called the Brevarius de HierosolymaFootnote 57 offers several points which either confirm Egeria or expand our knowledge of the situation. The text notes that the cross is kept in a chamber.Footnote 58 There is no mention of the inscription. However, we do see mention of the horn (cornu) which was used to anoint David and Solomon. Here, specific kings are mentioned. Also, there is mention of the ring which Solomon used to seal or imprison demons.Footnote 59 There is no mention of a ritual of veneration of these objects. It may be that the objects were brought out and venerated: however, this text is only concerned to describe their location.
We also may consult a text often attributed to Anthony of Piacenza.Footnote 60 The text appears to be the account of a sixth-century pilgrim, and it is the last to report on Christian pilgrimage prior to the Sasanian conquest of Jerusalem. The text mentions the cross and the inscription. It notes that the wood of the cross is venerated (not touched) and kissed.Footnote 61 The inscription was heldFootnote 62 and kissed. Thus, the text corroborates Egeria on pilgrims’ engagement with objects but says that pilgrims also touched and kissed the inscription.Footnote 63 In this text, there is information about the inscription, described as saying Hic est rex Iudaeorum – here is king of the Jews.Footnote 64 These objects are in a small chamber (cubiculum),Footnote 65 and this matches what Egeria says and is the same term that Brev. Hier. uses. Other objects in the chamber are the sponge and reed,Footnote 66 the cup of the Last Supper, and images and objects associated with Mary. It appears that the other objects mentioned by Egeria have now been moved to the Basilica. In that location, the text mentions the horn (cornu) which anointed the kings, including David.Footnote 67 There is no mention of Solomon’s ring. We also get a sense that the horn is on display in the basilica, apparently incorporated into a large collection of various relics: including the crown of thorns and lance associated with Jesus’s crucifixion, and the stones used to stone Saint Stephen.Footnote 68
So far, I have established the ritual objects. We can follow with confidence Egeria’s description of encountering and interacting with artifacts she and her fellow pilgrims understood to be the wood of the cross, the inscription, the anointing horn of the kings of Israel and a ring of Solomon.Footnote 69 What remains is to establish what these objects would have meant to the pilgrims. In Part II, I first provide assessments of the symbolic meanings of individual objects. Then, I analyse how the four objects worked together in a network of meaning for participants in the Good Friday morning ritual.
Part II Objects of Faith
Notes on the Individual Objects
The cross or crucifix is such a familiar object in modern Christianity that it may be surprising to hear that it was not a significant visual image in Christian art prior to Constantine. When Constantine outlawed the practice of crucifixion, then we see cross symbols and crucifixes within Christian art, as well as the veneration of scraps of wood said to be from the cross. Catacomb art of the earlier third century typically consisted of scenes of Jesus healing or resurrecting – comforting images of rescue and deliverance to Christians who were themselves facing persecution, including crucifixion.Footnote 70 And yet, the cross has always been a powerful literary motif in Christian theology, at least in the mainstream or orthodox groups who were responsible for the first-century New Testament texts and eventually the canonical collection which emerged in the fourth century CE. The attitude seems to be that it is permissible to talk about it but not depict it. The apostle Paul (died circa 64 CE) stated that Jesus’s crucifixion was the central theme of his preaching.Footnote 71 Paul and the writer of Luke’s Gospel share the understanding that Jesus’s death was the necessary element in God’s plan to institute a new covenant with humanity,Footnote 72 one modelled on the earlier Jewish covenant at Passover – itself instigated with the blood of sacrificial lambs.Footnote 73 The writer of the epistle to the Hebrews boldly proclaims that Jesus served as priest and sacrifice for the new covenant.Footnote 74 By the late second century, Justin Martyr states what was probably a widespread view in Christianity, that the cross ‘is the greatest symbol of his [Christ’s] power and rule’.Footnote 75 Tertullian notes that Christians make the sign of the cross regularly, inscribing on their bodies the symbol of Christ’s crucifixion.Footnote 76
What emerges in mainstream Christian thought is an understanding that Jesus’s crucifixion and death restored a broken relationship between humanity and God. Jesus’s death is seen as a noble self-sacrifice for the good of others,Footnote 77 and thus the cross became a symbol of forgiveness, hope, and salvation for Jesus’s followers. What should also be kept in mind is there was a sacramental interpretation of this process. Until the Protestant Reformation, the usual understanding was that God’s forgiveness and reconciliation was mediated through the Church and its officers, the bishops. Thus, manipulating symbols of God’s forgiveness also served to assert the authority of the bishop. This is not different from Graeco-Roman polytheistic religion. There, rulers claimed to act with divine authority and displayed images of themselves alongside the gods (on coins for example), or priests displayed the insignia of the gods in ritualized settings. Honouring the gods entailed obeying those humans in authority and acting on their behalf.
The wood of the ‘true cross’ is an immense topic, both the discovery of the cross and dissemination of its fragments. Here, I do not work through in detail the various legends, primary texts, and theories concerning the discovery of the cross.Footnote 78 I assume that some scraps of wood may have been found during the excavations in Jerusalem orchestrated by Helena, the mother of Constantine, around 325 CE. Cyril of Jerusalem mentions fragments of the cross in dispersal (348–50 CE). By the time of Egeria’s pilgrimage in the 380s, the cross on which Jesus was crucified was a well-established item linked to the site of Golgotha. As Egeria notes, a fragment of it was stored on site and brought out for veneration during Holy Week. In fact, Egeria’s account is the first of a person who saw the fragment and interacted with it as an object in a ritual drama.
We now turn to the inscription. This must have been a constructed object in Egeria’s time, something more contrived than simple scraps of wood.Footnote 79 All four Gospels agree that there had been some sort of inscription on the cross of Jesus’s crucifixion.Footnote 80 The gospel writers present this as recording the charge levelled by the Romans against Jesus, and its core element is that of kingship, or claiming to be a king.Footnote 81 Its discovery along with the cross is mentioned in the following early Christian sources: John Chrysostom (390 CE), Ambrose (395 CE), Rufinus (402 CE), Socrates (post 439 CE).Footnote 82 Like Egeria, the pilgrim known as Antonius of Piacenza encountered such an object during veneration of the cross.Footnote 83 I estimate that the symbolic value of the inscription artifact in the Good Friday ritual was not only its link to the cross but its theme of kingship. Kingship in a Jewish context would have had connotations of messiah or appointed agent of God’s rule. The Hebrew meshiach ‘anointed person’ has its linguistic equivalent in the term ό Χρίστος, Christ.Footnote 84 The term ‘messiah’ may have been associated with Jesus during his lifetime.Footnote 85 While Jesus’s career was not the political success that a conventional king would have had, his followers spiritualised the term and understood him to be a king of peace who brought in a new age or kingdom of God. Within the first century, members of the Jesus-movement were starting to be identified as ‘Christians’, followers of the anointed one.Footnote 86 There is evidence of anointing with oil during the baptismal process, in other words Christians were being anointed in the name of the anointed one, the Christ.Footnote 87 This issue of anointing relates to the next one, that of the horn used to anoint the kings of Israel.
The anointing of the Israelite king from a horn is mentioned in the Old Testament.Footnote 88 I estimate that the horn as it is used in the veneration ritual symbolised both kingship and messiahship. The king/messiah issues mentioned in the previous paragraph apply here as well. In the various statements on the horn, king David is not always mentioned, but there is always a generic statement about the kings of Israel. In early Christianity, a connection between king David and Jesus is taken to prove the status of Jesus as messiah.Footnote 89 If the issue is royal authority, then that matches the sort of authority the bishops are exercising. Further, the king motif is connected in the inscription (if we consider Anthony’s testimony) and the horn for the kings of Israel. The Anthony of Piacenza text mentions the horn, as does Egeria. So far, we have seen objects with complex symbolism yet a clear reference point to things within the Old Testament. The next object takes the level of complexity further, and its symbolism appears to be the result of traditions outside the Old Testament – ideas closer to the time of Egeria.
The Ring of Solomon: An Evolving Tradition
The ring of Solomon in Egeria’s ritual is an unusual object. A signet ring was a typical artifact of kings and rulers in the Ancient Near East. Such a ring would have been a symbol of their political authority and could be used to seal or stamp documents. Unlike the anointing horn, such an object is not mentioned in the Old Testament as being something of Solomon. Assuming it once existed, it is extremely unlikely that such a small object would have survived until the time of Egeria. I estimate that this constructed artifact in the ritual not only symbolised the authority of a king of Israel which Jesus’s followers felt he inherited, but also another sort of power – that of control over demons. The development of traditions about Solomon as a magician and exorcist, and the role of a ring in these activities, are complex issues and there is no need to work through all their features here.Footnote 90 However, I do need to take some discussion to profile this lesser-known issue and make a case for its relevance in assessing Egeria’s evidence. The foundational element behind the ring is the motif of Solomon as a wise king. This is a well-established theme, but within the Old Testament, Solomon’s wisdom appears primarily in the context of being a capable ruler.Footnote 91 It is not until the first century CE and later that we have clear evidence of a new understanding of Solomon’s wisdom, one which included astrology, magic, and power over demons.
The late first-century Jewish historian Josephus’s discussion of SolomonFootnote 92 expands the list of Solomon’s areas of expertise to include the art used against demons and the healing of men, the composition of incantations by which illnesses are relieved, and the development of ritual forms of exorcism.Footnote 93 In proof of Solomon’s power, Josephus then relatesFootnote 94 a recent caseFootnote 95 of exorcism which he himself witnessed by a Jewish exorcist Eleazar who used a ring which had under its seal a root ‘prescribed by Solomon’. Eleazar exorcised ‘speaking Solomon’s name and reciting the incantations which he [Solomon] had composed’.Footnote 96 Josephus gives evidence of a tradition within Judaism of Solomon as a magician and exorcist, and those contemporary practitioners drew on traditions, objects, and practices attributed to Solomon.Footnote 97 This is our first reference to a ring relating to Solomon, though not yet a ring used by and belonging to Solomon. For that development, we turn to a document known as the Testament of Solomon.
Testament of Solomon (T. Sol.) is a somewhat obscure text found in the modern collection known as The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha.Footnote 98 The manuscripts are in Greek. The text has an abundant demonology, discussion of magic, and (with Egeria) a clear reference to a ring belonging to Solomon. In T. Sol., the ring is used exclusively to exorcise and control demons.Footnote 99 The text’s provenance, author, and specific time period are the matter of scholarly debate. Many estimate that somewhere in the second or third century CE is likely, and that earlier (possibly Jewish) traditions have been redacted by Christians.Footnote 100 Alongside T. Sol. we place Egeria’s testimony from the same time period concerning the ring of Solomon. Now, we hear of an object not of the past alone, but in contemporary usage. Egeria only mentions the ring and does not reveal what she thought of it or what it may have suggested to the ritual participants. We have seen that the Pilgrim of Bordeaux visited a cave where it was thought Solomon exorcised demons, and that the Brevarius says that Solomon’s ring was used to exorcise demons. Is there any other way to bring in the element of exorcism? Perhaps.
An answer might lie in attention to a motif within New Testament traditions – something being greater than Solomon.Footnote 101 We see that motif applied with respect to Jesus’s wisdom.Footnote 102 We see such a comparison reflected in the lilies of the valley parableFootnote 103 and implicitly in the prophetic words of Stephen.Footnote 104 A case can be made for exorcism as another point of comparison.Footnote 105 Jesus had fame as an exorcist, and the claim that Jesus had greater abilities than Solomon may have arisen at an early period among Jesus’s followers. In support of this argument, we consider the phrase ‘finger of God’ attributed to Jesus in one of his statements about the source of his exorcistic power.Footnote 106 According to T. Sol., Solomon’s exorcistic power was derivative, being activated or channelled through the active agency of a finger ring which was a divine gift to Solomon. If this was a widespread understanding regarding Solomon as an exorcist, the Gospel’s portrayal of Jesus’s exorcistic power as being direct, unmediated, and authoritative gains rhetorical power. The Jewish anthropomorphism ‘finger of God’ preserved in Luke works well as a witty foil for a ring motif – ring versus finger!Footnote 107 Let us explore the issue of exorcism within early Christianity and see how that might relate to the ring of Solomon and also the authority of bishops.
Evidence of exorcism within the early Church speaks of two settings: first, the general or ad hoc exorcism done by specialists and second, one or more exorcisms done on candidates for baptism by the bishop and/or other officiants.Footnote 108 It is the second category which is relevant here. Cyril, Myst. Cat. II.3 notes that the baptismal candidates have been anointed with exorcized oil by the bishop. Egeria mentions that the candidates were exorcised by clergy (1970: 46.1), though she does not mention the bishop specifically. The Bishop’s ring was a symbol or focal-point of his episcopal authority. Thus, Solomon’s ring could have both a Christological function and an episcopal one.Footnote 109 Boustan and Beshay estimate:
The ecclesiastical leaders who were in the process of developing the architectural space and liturgy of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre not only cultivated traditions regarding the anti-demonic powers of Solomon’s ring [T. Sol.] but also produced concrete objects … that would serve to materialize for the faithful the historical path that led from the Israelite kings and the sacrificial cult they had promoted to the imperially-sponsored veneration of Christ and his cross.Footnote 110
All of this might explain why, at least at Egeria’s time, there is a different type of interaction by the pilgrims with the horn, and with the ring. Remember that Egeria has said: ‘Holding the ring of Solomon and the horn, kiss the horn and attend to the ring.’Footnote 111 If the ring had exorcistic connotations, pilgrims might have had reservations about kissing something which had had contact with demons. Better to look attentively at it – respectful of its power but cautious of it at the same time.Footnote 112 So far, we have considered the individual artifacts. In the next section, I demonstrate how they are like the tiles in a mosaic – together, they created a powerful composite image for the ritual participants.
The Objects in a Network of Symbolic Meaning
In this section, I consider how the four objects worked together synergistically in a networkFootnote 113 of meaning and experience for the pilgrims. Why and how do they work together? First, they are small objects, handled together in a small space by a small group, and second, each element has Christological symbolism, either directly or indirectly through typology.Footnote 114 Encountered together, they present a multi-faceted experience of Christological teachings.Footnote 115 While I do not want to limit our understanding of the function of the ritual objects as cognitive or pedagogical, we can explore this as one of the purposes of the objects. I imagine how the objects would have been understood by the pilgrims. The following chart summarises my assessment (Figure 5.5).
Reconstruction of the Network of Ritual Objects, by the author
While the elements are distinct in that each tells a story and has a historical background, it is important to consider them together in a network. They work together in a complex ritual action.Footnote 117 Here, we need to consider typology – a mode of theological analysis peculiar to Christianity. The use of typology, its kinds and rationales, is a large topic within Christian studies, and I need not engage in an extended discussion. I offer a few observations. By the time of Egeria, the anti-Old Testament sentiment of Marcion’s supporters had largely faded away,Footnote 118 and the use of the Old Testament in Christian circles was an established norm. Christian understanding of the Old Testament in a typological way was in a prophetic sense: that is, while events of the Israelite past were understood as having some historical value in themselves, their primary significance was thought to be established (or revealed) when they served as symbolic pointers to Christ. In Christian understanding, Old Testament persons and episodes have an indirect Christological function, teaching or offering commentary on the Christ-event. Therefore, when we see a combination of Israelite and New Testament objects in ritual, we suspect a typological rationale. Further, I estimate that the typology is of a particular kind: comparative (‘greater than’). Christ is not just another king; he is the King of Kings … Christ’s exorcisms were superior to or more powerful and authoritative than those of Solomon. Here we see a rhetorical function, one designed to persuade.
Thus, when ritual objects have an historical or New Testament connection, the person experiences two aspects: the object itself (the cross, the inscription) and its referent point (Christ). When ritual objects have an Old Testament typological function in the ritual, the person experiences three aspects: the object itself (the anointing horn, the ring), its Old Testament event (kings of Israel or Solomon), and the Christological referent.Footnote 119 Together, the various objects have a synergistic relationship: they compliment and reinforce each other.Footnote 120 For example, the ‘king’ theme is found both in the inscription and in the anointing horn, and is a minor motif in the ring. Since all the objects have a Christological component, either directly or indirectly through typology, the elements would have interacted synergistically to produce an effect larger and more complex than the sum of their individual parts. In support of there being a typological understanding at work in this setting, we note the suggestive comments by Cyril of Jerusalem in his address to candidates for baptism at Jerusalem, in Myst. Cat 1.3. Cyril contrasts ‘type’ with realityFootnote 121 in a rhetorically rich passage in which he compares the blood of the Passover lamb which is a ‘spell against the destroyer’ with Jesus’s blood which is a ‘charm against demons’.Footnote 122 The theme of exorcism and demons is accented here, adding credence to the exorcism symbolism I find in the ring. And we remember that Cyril was responsible for constructing both rituals.
Each of the ritual artifacts is associated with history and theology. Christianity developed a particular emphasis on the intersection between the two realms – God is thought to reveal himself in historical episodes, especially key (biblical) ones.Footnote 123 Thus, Egeria and the other pilgrims are participating in archetypal (biblical) history through the relics or ritual objects of those long-ago times. Interacting with them helps people experience and live in the past; or brings the past into the present. This is necessary because of the gap between the past and the present. Spanning time (we are back then) or a continuous present within the ritual (then is now). Such efforts are thought necessary because of the gap between then and now. The pilgrims are already in the space where the crucifixion happened, and in ritual they participate in the time when it happened.
In the veneration ritual, it is important to note the shift from the usual pilgrim activity which consisted of viewing an open-air site. Throughout her overall account, Egeria repeatedly speaks of going to a location of biblical import and seeing it. Here are a few examples from Egeria’s attentive travelogue: The Valley of the Golden Calf mentioned in Exodus (1.2), a large stone which Elijah used for sacrifice (4.1), a round rock where Moses received the law (4.4), a bush which had burned in the sight of Moses but was now sprouting (4.7), a rock where Moses broke the first tablets of the law (5.4), a well associated with Jacob (21.2). These are pre-existent geographical features which have been identified or labelled in such a way as to suit the pilgrim’s desire to see ancient sites. But in this micro-moment in the small room, although the element of sight is still involved, it is joined with the element of touch. In this moment, we have objects which have been preserved (so Egeria) or constructed (so the modern historian) to be used as objects by actors in a ritual drama. When we keep in mind that that actor’s performance is enlivened or realised through the use of props, we get an insight into this process. Kissing is involved, and lips are very sensitive sense organs. Interacting this way creates a personal, intimate, and emotional connection to the object. The objects are different from a sermon, which contains only words, even when they are ardent and descriptive ones. Here, the pilgrims have embodied experience, physical sensation. I have established that the individual elements had a complex set of associations and symbols. When combined together in a focused setting, the effect must have been a powerful experience for the pilgrims.
Conclusion
In Egeria’s account, we encounter dramatic artifacts which are ritually venerated by pilgrims. It is unlikely that they are actual historical objects – much more likely that they were constructed for the edification of the pilgrims. There is no need to be cynical or dismissive in our observation – such things often happen in ritual dramas (shamanic rituals in particular). Objects are brought in and manipulated in a powerful and dramatic way to create a powerful emotional effect. In the performance of the ritual, the actor transforms a simple object into a powerful and symbolically-enriched relic of their faith. All of the participants in Egeria’s account work as an ensemble of actors in a ritual drama which sacralises the objects. This study has taken seriously Ovid’s observation that there is more to an image or symbol than its outward content. I propose that the symbolic ontology of these objects is more significant than their literal reality. Informed by theories from Geography and Performance Theory, I have found many layers of meaning in these objects. Clearly, they work together in a synergistic manner, intensified by the group experience in a small space and enlivened by the touch of each pilgrim.
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