2018 Editor’s Selection Vol. 2: Five Articles from The Ancient Near East Today

A PUBLICATION OF FRIENDS OF ASOR TABLE OF CONTENTS

1 “The World’s Oldest Torah Scrolls” by Gary A. Rendsburg

2 “Alchemy Between the Two Rivers?” by Maddalena Rumor

3 “Getting Old in Ancient Egypt” by Grigorios I. Kontopoulos

“The Cross: History, Art and Controversy” by Robin M. Jensen 4

5 “Sinai’s Unfinished 150-year Survey” by Ahmed Shams Chapter One The World’s Oldest Torah Scrolls The World’s Oldest Torah Scrolls

By: Gary A. Rendsburg

A recent announcement by the Library of Congress regarding the purchase of a single Torah scroll sheet dating from approximately 1000 C.E. has generated great interest in the topic of old Torah scrolls. Just what are the world’s oldest Torah scrolls and where does the Library of Congress scroll fit in?

The Library of Congress scroll sheet contains five columns of text, comprising Exodus 10:10-16:15, a portion extending from the Plague of Locusts to the appearance of Manna in the desert. Included within the text is the Song of the Sea (Exodus 15:1‒19).

According to an inscription in both Hebrew and Russian on the back of the scroll, the sheet was presented by Shelomo Beim (1817- Torah Scroll Sheet dated ca. 1000 C.E., containing Exodus 10:10- 1867 C.E.), Karaite hazzan in 16:15. Courtesy of the Hebraic Section of the African and Middle East Chufut-Kale, Crimea, to Grand Division, Library of Congress. Duke Constantine, brother of Czar Alexander II, in the year 1863. One may assume that the scroll sheet emanates from the Near East, based on considerations of text, handwriting, section divisions, and layout of the Song of the Sea. At some point, the scroll sheet was taken to England , where in 2001 it was offered for sale by Christie’s Auction House. Fortunately, before the sale, Jordan Penkower of Bar-Ilan University was able to study the document closely and described it in a very detailed article in the journal Textus.

In 2017, the sheet was again offered for sale, this time by the 2001 buyer, the noted rare book dealer Stephan Loewenthiel. The Library of Congress purchased the sheet, and the Hebraic Section of the African and Middle Eastern Division now serves as the custodian of this exceedingly important document. I had the opportunity to inspect the scroll sheet at the Library of Congress in October 2017, courtesy of Dr. Ann Brener, head of the Hebraic Section, in advance of the Library’s public announcement in January 2018.

But is this document unique? How many truly old Torah scrolls are there? How many survive from approximately 1000 years ago or more? Readers of The Ancient Near East Today are like aware of the approximately 220 biblical manuscripts from amongst the Dead Sea Scrolls, dating from 3rd century B.C.E. to 1st century C.E., along with the related documents from Masada, Naḥal Ḥever, Wadi Murabba‘at, and other sites, which date from the 1st-2nd centuries C.E. But what about the ensuing centuries, until we reach the date of the Library of Congress portion at approximately 1000 C.E.? What scrolls, or portions of scrolls, do we possess?

The Ein Gedi scroll, containing Leviticus 1-2, digitally ‘unrolled’ and revealed through micro-CT-scanning. The oldest document is the Ein Gedi scroll, which was recently digitally ‘unrolled’ through remarkable micro-CT scanning, revealing the text of Leviticus 1-2. Archaeological evidence suggests the date of the Ein Gedi synagogue is approximately 500 C.E., but carbon-14 testing reveals that the scroll itself is much older, dating to ca. 300 C.E. The scroll was found in the Torah niche of the Ein Gedi synagogue during excavations in 1970, so we may conclude that it was used for the liturgical reading of the Torah. Then, as now, Torah scrolls were sometimes used for centuries.

The Ein Gedi Synagogue, with the Torah niche indicated by sign no. 8 near the top of the photo. Photo courtesy of Gary A. Rendsburg.

But the Ein Gedi scroll commences with a blank sheet, so we can be certain that this was not a complete Torah scroll, but rather contained one, two, or three books only (that is, Leviticus only, or Leviticus and Numbers, or at most Leviticus-Numbers- Deuteronomy). I mention this because it relates to a parallel question: at what point did Torah scrolls come to contain all five books of the Pentateuch? There is no definitive answer to this question, but the blank sheet offers a clue.

A blank sheet at the beginning of a scroll is known as a ‘protocol’, from medieval Latin protocollum (Greek πρωτόκολλον), literally ‘glued (or attached) before’. Typically, this introductory sheet was not completely blank but contained notes concerning the contents of the document to follow; hence the derived meaning of the English word ‘protocol’. Presumably there was no need for any such writing, and/or there was a halakhic prohibition against it, for a scroll of Torah or a Pentateuchal book. The Ein Gedi scroll shows that by the fourth century C.E. there was not yet a requirement or custom that all five books of the Pentateuch be united into a single scroll. The London sheet, now in the private collection of Stephan Loewenthiel, containing Exodus 9:18–13:2.

Next in age come the London and Ashkar-Gilson sheets, which derive from the same scroll, dated ca. 700 C.E. Moreover, to our good fortune the surviving sheets contain Exodus 9:18–13:2 and 13:19– 16:1, which once again includes the Song of the Sea. But these sheets have a complicated history.

The first is also held in the private collection of Stephan Loewenthiel, though for many years it belonged to the collection of Jews’ College, London, hence, its designation as the London scroll sheet. Its origins and how it came to London are unknown. The second sheet is named for the two individuals Ashkar-Gilson no. 2, spanning Exodus 13:19–16:1 including who purchased the document, along the Song of the Sea. with others, in Beirut and eventually donated them to the Duke University Library in 1979, where they now reside. This donation, and the size of the resulting charitable tax deductions, however, attracted the attention of the Internal Revenue Service, which litigated the matter for over a decade.

The Ashkar-Gilson sheet, known technically as Ashkar-Gilson 2, can be read only with great difficulty, but with modern photographic technology, namely multi-spectral imaging, the text now has been revealed. Using these new data Edna Engel and Mordechay Mishor concluded that the two Exodus sheets derive from the same scroll.

But the Ashkar-Gilson collection includes other old Torah scroll sheets, including one that contains the Deuteronomy version of the Decalogue in Deuteronomy 5. This document, Ashkar-Gilson 14, was previously totally unreadable, although once again multi-spectral imaging has allowed scholars to read the text.

Askhar-Gilson no. 14, to the naked eye (left) and as revealed through multi-spectral imaging (right).

Does Ashkar-Gilson belong to the same scroll as Ashkar-Gilson 2 and the London sheet? Working only from photos, Paul Sanders of the Protestant Theological Seminary in Amsterdam informs me that Ashkar-Gilson 14 most likely derives from a different manuscript. A task that still lies ahead is a full analysis of all the Ashkar-Gilson documents, to determine their dates, texts, layouts, handwritings, and possible origins.

Amongst the Cairo Geniza documents are portions of two very old Torah scrolls. We know that these fragments originate from scrolls (and not from codices), because the verso of each document is blank. All the documents are to be found in the Taylor- Schechter (T-S) Collection of the Cambridge University Library (C.U.L.). The older scroll is comprised of two sections of the book of Genesis: C.U.L. T-S NS 3.21 – ca. 800 C.E. – containing portions of Genesis 13-17 C.U.L. T-S NS 4.3 – ca. 800 C.E. – containing portions of Genesis 4-6

Cambridge University Library, T-S NS 3.21 (ca. 800 C.E.), fragment of a Torah scroll (or at least Genesis scroll) containing portions of Genesis 13-17, found in the Cairo Geniza. Used by kind permission of the Syndics of Cambridge University.

Now, whether this was a complete Torah scroll or a scroll of the book of Genesis only cannot be determined. And while I have provided the date of ca. 800 C.E. for these two documents, some handwriting experts would date them centuries earlier, ca. 500 C.E. The second scroll is dated to c. 900 C.E., and may comprise as many as 19 different fragments, stretching from Genesis through Deuteronomy, assuming that all derive from the same original Torah scroll. Such is the opinion, for example, of Colette Sirat, a renowned expert in the field of Hebrew paleography and codicology. The first extant portion is this one: Cambridge University Library, T-S NS 4.3 (ca. 800 C.E.), fragment of a Torah scroll (or at least Genesis scroll) containing portions of Genesis 4-6, found in the Cairo Geniza. Used by kind permission of the Syndics of Cambridge University.

C.U.L. T-S NS 4.8 – ca. 900 C.E. – containing portions of Genesis 25-26

Next in age comes the fascinating MS Florence, Biblioteca Medicea Laurenziana pluteo 74,17, a palimpsest. The overtext is a Greek manuscript, dated to the 13th century C.E., but much of the undertext in the second half of the manuscript is comprised of sections of six old Torah scroll sheets, dated to the 10th century C.E., cut up and reused for the production of the overtext. The undertext, the scribal hands, the direction of writing, and more, have been studied in great detail by Colette Sirat and her collaborators.

[I am grateful to Jordan Penkower (Bar-Ilan University) for calling this unique manuscript to my attention and more generally for his valuable comments to an earlier version of this article.] At this point, as we proceed chronologically, the Library of Congress Torah scroll sheet, dated to c. 1000 C.E., with which we began this essay, may be mentioned again.

Finally, I must note two items, our oldest complete Torah scrolls, both from Italy. The oldest complete Torah scroll known is in the Biblioteca universitaria di Bologna, dated via radiocarbon to ca. 1190 C.E. In a library catalogue dated to 1889, this scroll was mistakenly dated to the 17th century. Mauro Perani (Bologna) “rediscovered” the scroll in 2011, realized that the document was much older, and arranged for the radiocarbon testing. The complete scroll reaches 36 meters (120 feet) and is written on sheepskin.

The oldest complete Torah scroll that is still in use is in Biella, Italy, and is dated via radiocarbon to ca. 1250 C.E. Credit for the recognition of the age and importance of this Torah scroll goes to Rabbi Amedeo Spagnoletto, recently appointed rabbi in Florence.

Long after the Christians had adopted the codex form for Scripture and for other writings, as early as the 2nd century C.E., Jews continued to write biblical texts on scrolls. Eventually, the codex was adopted Cambridge University Library, T-S NS 4.8 (ca. 900 C.E.), fragment of a by the Jews as well, Torah scroll containing portions of Genesis 4-6, found in the Cairo Geniza. though not until the 8th or Used by kind permission of the Syndics of Cambridge University. 9th century. The famous MS Florence, Biblioteca Medicea Laurenziana pluteo 74,17, a palimpsest, with Greek overtext and Hebrew undertext, in this image, portions of Genesis, chs. 5 and 7.

Biblioteca universitaria di Bologna Torah (National Geographic). Aleppo Codex dates to ca. 920 C.E., while the St. Petersburg (Leningrad) Codex dates to 1009-1010 C.E. But such codices were for study. For liturgical purposes, Jews continued to use the scroll form of the biblical book, a practice that continues until the present day.

Were the Library of Congress’s scroll sheet part of a complete Torah scroll, it would be at home at any synagogue in the world today. In the meantime, though, this precious document will be on display in the Great Hall of the Library of Congress, right next to the Gutenberg Bible from March 27 to April 17.

Biella Torah scroll, with the one column shown here including the Song of the Sea (Exodus 15).

Gary A. Rendsburg serves as Blanche and Irving Laurie Chair in Jewish History at Rutgers University. Chapter Two Alchemy Between the Two Rivers? Alchemy Between the Two Rivers?

By Maddalena Rumor

Was there “alchemy” in ancient Mesopotamia, and if so, with what was this “art” concerned? Should we even take the trouble of investigating these questions?

Interior of a laboratory with an Alchemist. David Teniers the Younger, 1610-1690.

Recent scholarship has identified elements that point us in the direction of Mesopotamia, and that help us reconstruct the first stages from which alchemy, with its discovery of substances, development of processes and invention of instruments, grew. In order to do this, however, it is essential to understand what alchemy was in antiquity.

When we mention “alchemy” today, we invariably think of secret experiments with metals and stones heated in ovens, cauldrons and glimmering flasks, perhaps even surrounded by smelling clouds of sulphur spiced up by a pinch of magic formulae (the older the better). This charming image is undoubtedly indebted to past practitioners, but the reality was more mundane. In general terms the goal has always been the same through the centuries: to transform matter in order to improve, or to unravel, its nature, with motives ranging from the philosophical to the purely materialistic. Alchemical instruments.

While the classical etymology of the name of most scientific disciplines, such as “biology,” “astronomy” and “physics” is usually well understood, that of “chemistry” is still shrouded in mystery. All we know is that the word “chemistry” developed from medieval “alchemy” (alchemia), a term that derives from Arabic al-kīmiyā and ultimately from Greek chēmeia, but even the origins of the Greek term are not known. It thus appears that this very old art of tinkering with nature, together with its name – be it “chemistry,” “alchemy”, or the “holy and divine art” (hē hiera kai theia technē as it was called by the ancient Greeks) – may be even older than Greek civilization.

The long medieval tradition of Latin alchemical treatises and recipe-books derives from early Greek texts. For the 1st century CE scholar Pseudo-Democritus, the art consisted of investigating the affinities between different substances, and the dyeing of raw matter through liquid tinctures to forge products that resembled gold, silver, precious stones and purple wool. The earliest examples of alchemical texts, two Greek papyri written in the late 3rd century BCE, contain recipes for dyeing of precious metals, stones and purple. The incentive was clearly to obtain something of seemingly greater value out of cheaper materials. Early accounts narrate how the predecessors of these Greek alchemists had learned their skills in Egypt, probably in Alexandria (the main intellectual center of the Hellenistic period, at the crossroad between ancient eastern and western civilizations). They also claimed that this knowledge ultimately derived from the Near East, whence Persian magi (learned priests) would have brought it to Egypt. Some of the alchemical procedures were indeed described as “Persian” by Hellenistic authors, a designation that pointed to the land of the Persians/Chaldeans, thus to Perfume burner from Assyrian civilization, 13th c. BCE. Mesopotamia. DEA / A. Dagli Orti, Getty Images.

Can these stories be confirmed in any way? And do Near Eastern sources include any practices that could be labeled as “alchemical”? The archaeological record shows that the chemical apparatus, derived from the kitchen and elaborated to suit different needs, remained mostly the same from the time of the Babylonians on to the Arab periods. But the cuneiform corpus of al/chemical texts is rather fragmentary. It consists mainly in a series of instructions on the manufacture of colored Double-rimmed pot for distillation, Tepe Gawra, Iraq, Uruk Period glass (presumably to counterfeit (ca. 3500 BCE). precious stones), and a handful Tepe Gawra pot for distillation – Reconstruction of other tablets, all dated between the 12th and the 7th centuries BCE. These focus on various sorts of dyeing procedures, often involving the dipping of pebbles, base glass or a mix of minerals into a dying liquid, to make them resemble precious stones or metals.

An excerpt from one of these tablets, for instance, describes how to obtain an imitation dušû-stone (a precious or semi-precious stone that was normally mentioned together with lapis lazuli and gold):

“(...) You boil alum and ... in vinegar. You steep (the stone) in lapis lazuli-colored liquid and place it in the fire and (then you have) a dušû-colored stone. (Colophon:) An original from Babylon. Property of Nebuchadnezzar Blue glass ingot from LBA Palace at Tell Brak, (I), king of Babylon.” northern Syria. Another text presents instructions for forging silver:

“Into two minas of refined (washed) copper [one-half mina of…] 10 shekels of tin, 2 shekels of [xxx]. It melts; it will be cast [and made it “run”] in oil and the “flour” will be fired; it will be wiped off, cleaned up (lit. purified). (These objects are) silver zībtu; this (kind of) silver [cannot be detected].”

Recently, one more tablet has been recognized as “alchemical”. It contains instructions for dyeing white wool to “Alchemical” tablet K 7942+. ©Trustees of the British a hue similar to the precious purple Museum. of antiquity, but using much cheaper colorants:

“You take white wool and alum, spread (them) out evenly in water, (and) simmer over coals. Pound ḫatḫurētu (insects similar to the red Kermes worms) together with spring water and take up the white wool, spread them out evenly. Simmer in (plain) water and water from (potter’s) clay over coals. (You will obtain) argamannu-purple-colored

Shell of Murex sea snails. wool (normally obtained from the secretions of the much more expensive Murex sea snails).”

Alchemical knowledge was surely not available to everyone. Both the Babylonian tablets and the Greek papyri are clearly concerned with secrecy and with the quality of the resulting counterfeits that, in their words, will “deceive even the artisans” or that “cannot be

Purple wool obtained from the secretions of the Murex snail. detected.”

In some ways, however, such knowledge seems to have travelled farther than was initially intended. The chemical instructions and writing style in the cuneiform tablets are very similar to those in the later Greek alchemical papyri. Both tablets and papyri deal with the dyeing of metals, stones and purple wool, a core division that

Zosimos’ distillation equipment from Codex Parisinus 2327, 15th century. Distillation process in an Arabic treatise of chemistry. © The British Library. matches the one later established by Pseudo-Democritus and other Greek alchemists. Finally, they both share the same worries.

Mesopotamian records on alchemy do not contain philosophical discussions on the nature of matter as later alchemy did, but at the same time they had a spiritual and mystical nature: it the chemical production was often accompanied by ritual actions, and colors were associated with “magical” meanings. Additionally, the Greek use of obscure, esoteric terminology has been shown to occasionally originate from misunderstandings of Babylonian chemical ingredients. It is thus likely that a further comparative analysis of such terminology could lead to a better understanding of some cryptic Greek alchemical terms.

Finally, to go back to the name of the “art” itself, its origins might also be found in Mesopotamia. While the etymology of the Greek term chēmeia (χημεία) remains problematic, I have recently suggested that it may derive from the Akkadian term kamû/ kawû, the secondary meaning of which is “to bake, to roast” (root *√kmy/kwy, surviving in Aramaic √kwy, “to burn”). Cuneiform “alchemy” is a still underexplored, and yet potentially vital, source of information on the earliest technical procedures from which the Hellenistic alchemical tradition and eventually medieval alchemy arose. Indeed, the very name “chemistry” may show us the Mesopotamian roots of what became a true science.

Maddalena Rumor is Assistant Professor in the History Department at Case Western Reserve University. For Further Reading Martelli M. & M. Rumor. “Near Eastern Origins of Graeco-Egyptian Alchemy.” In Esoteric Knowledge in Ancient Sciences. K. Geus and M. J. Geller eds. (Berlin: Max Planck-Institut für Wissenschaftsgeschichte, 2014): 37–62. Oppenheim, L. “Mesopotamia in the Early History of Alchemy,” RA 60 (1966): 29–45. Chapter Three Getting Old in Ancient Egypt Getting Old in Ancient Egypt

By: Grigorios I. Kontopoulos

The lifespan of the ancient Egyptians Old age was a situation that included only a very small portion of the Egyptian population. The study of the anthropological evidence from several cemeteries as well as the census declarations from Roman Egypt defined the average life expectancy for males at 22.5-25 years and for females at 35-37 years. Under these considerations, an individual in his mid-thirties was considered an old person in ancient Egypt.

The ideal lifetime Although the evidence suggests a quite low life expectancy, there were exceptions of individuals who reached substantial old age. These fortunate ones were usually members of the Egyptian elite. Several cases of individuals who reached - or who Head of a statue of an older man, ca. 2550–2460 BCE (The wished to reach - a long lifespan Met Museum) were attested in ancient Egyptian literature. Although the majority of texts reflected the experiences of the literate male elite, several examples dated during the Dynastic period (such as the famous Papyrus Westcar from the Middle Kingdom, ca. 2000 BCE) indicate that 110 years seemed to be the ideal lifespan. Papyrus Westcar (Wikimedia Commons) Perceptions of the older generation While the perception of who is old is certainly changeable, today due to the constant rise of our standard of living, ‘old age’ is a stage in human life that declared by the symptoms of ageing. The ancient Egyptian perception for the process of ageing was not very different than the picture we have today. In texts from the Dynastic period, a pessimistic picture of the process was given:

“O king, my Lord! Age is here, old age arrived, Feebleness came, weakness grows, [childlike] one sleeps all day. Eyes are dim, ears deaf, strength is waning through weariness (Instructions of Ptahotep). Head of an old man, ca. 200-1 BCE (The Met Museum)

“Would that my body were young again! For old age has come; feebleness has overtaken me. My eyes are heavy, my arms weak; my legs fail to follow. The heart is weary; death is near” (The Story of Sinuhe). Papyrus Westcar (Wikimedia Commons)

But pessimism regarding physical decline was not the only description of the aged individuals. In the story of the “Three Tales of Wonder” from Papyrus Westcar, Prince Hardedef describes the magician Djedi as someone who:

“Is of a 110 years, who eats hundred loaves of bread, half an ox for meat and drinks one hundred jugs of beer to this very date.”

As the story continues, the young Prince greets the magician, and his words strongly contrast with the descriptions of old age given in other texts:

“Your condition is like that of one who lives above age-for old age is the time of death, enwrapping, and burial- one who sleeps till daytime, free of illness, without a hacking cough.”

On the one hand being old perceived as the last stage of life, as a time of agony and misery, but on the other hand it could be perceived as a watershed between adolescence and maturity, especially for the wealthier portions of population. Differences in social strata defined the way that the elderly was regarded.

The care for the elderly The textual evidence regarding care for the elderly in ancient Egypt makes it becomes obvious that this was a matter for the family, especially for the lower and middle classes of society. Various census lists from Kahun and Deir-el-Medina suggested that the elderly, especially women, remained significant participants in their domestic group until death. Apart from being members of their children’s households, the elderly also received a regular stipend from their offspring, as an ostracon from the working class village of Deir el-Medina revealed:

“And I gave to him emmer amounting to 2 ½ sacks as rations every month from year 1 until year 2, second month of the inundation season to third month of the summer season, making 10 months, each 2 ½ sacks. Total 27 ½ sacks.”

In the same spirit, one of the four documents related to the property of Lady Naunakhte records an agreement between Khaemnun and his son Kenherkhepeshef:

“After the workman Khenherkhepeshef said, ‘I will give him 2 ¾ sacks’, and while he will swear an oath of the Lord, saying, ‘As Amon endures, as the ruler endures, if I take away this grain ration of my father, my reward (the washing bowl) shall be taken away.’

The agreement reveals another aspect of the relationship between parents and children, the enforcement of the care for the elderly through inheritance. The inheritance was used to ensure children would look after their elderly parents. The will of Naunakhte is representative:

“But see, I am grown old, and see, they are not looking after me in my turn. Whoever of them has aided me, to him I will give (of) my property, (but) he who has not given to me, to him I will not give of my property.”

Although care for the elderly inside the family context seemed to be the only solution for the lower and middle classes of the Egyptian society, the situation was quite different for the elderly members of the Egyptian elite. The elderly who belonged in the upper class were allowed to keep their titles and their official income until the end of their lifetime. This is demonstrated in the institution of the “staff of old age” in documents such as the Instructions of Ptahotep, autobiographies such as that of Amenemhat, or the text that describes the installation of the vizier Weser-Amun. From these it becomes prominent that the “staff of old age” was an assistant to officials who belonged to the highest levels of the Egyptian administration. That duty was usually given by Pharaoh to one of the sons of the official. Under the appointment of his son, the father remained financially independent and at the same time the succession of the son was guaranteed.

Apart from the institution of the “staff of old age”, elderly members of the Egyptian elite had extra sources of income to secure their financial independency after retirement. Founding a statue cult through a donation to a temple allowed officials to drawn a supplementary income after retirement. By donating property, including slaves, to a royal statue, a citizen, with the King’s permission, could found a cult and become its prophet. With this appointment as a prophet, he could then receive a share of the cult income, untaxed and protected from state demands. Senwosret III (ca. 1874 – 1855 BCE) (Civilization.org)

Similarly, the donation of an individual’s property to a temple allowed him to receive an annual income from the harvest. By donating his property to a temple, the individual secured protection from state demands and avoided family disagreements. The inscriptions from the tomb of the Theban scribe Sanmut describe that practice:

“I give all my property together with all my acquisitions to Mut, into the temple of Mut, The Great Mistress of Ishru. Behold, I am establishing it as a stipend from my old age because of my contract. The Egyptian approach to old age is thus closer to our own than we might have expected. The poor and the middle class took in their elderly and struggled, while the wealthiest schemed to avoid taxes.

Grigorios I. Kontopoulos is a Ph.D. candidate in Egyptology at the University of the Aegean. Chapter Four The Cross: History, Art and Controversy The Cross: History, Art and Controversy

By: Robin M. Jensen

Despite its almost ubiquitous appearance on everything from towering highway billboards to small key fobs, the figure of the Christian cross elicits a wide variety of feelings. Many viewers regard it merely as a commonplace, but essentially harmless symbol that identifies a building or individual with some sect of the Christian faith

The Ground Zero Cross, photo: Wikimedia Creative Commons, author Diether (https://commons.wikimedia. org/wiki/File:Ground_Zero_Cross_%C2%B405.jpg).

Others have stronger reactions, often of disapproval, fear, or hostility. This was the case with the cross found at New York’s Ground Zero, particularly after it put on permanent display in the September 11 National Memorial and Museum. While many visitors consider it to be an almost sacred symbol of consolation, hope, and healing, others judge it an inappropriate advertisement of a particular religious outlook and a violation of the separation of church and state.

This is not a modern problem, however. The image of the Christian cross has been at the center of controversy from the very first years of the church’s existence. From the Apostle Paul onward, Christian theologians and church leaders had to explain – even justify – the fact that their proclaimed Messiah was executed in a humiliating and brutal fashion, a form of capital punishment allotted to thieves, insurrectionists, Fyodor Bronnikov, The Damned Box. Place of Execution in ancient Rome. runaway slaves, and The Crucified Slaves, 1878. Now in the Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow. Photo: army deserters. The Wikimedia Creative Commons (https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Fedor_ condemned suffered Bronnikov_002.jpg). an especially gruesome, degrading, and public death. Many who witnessed or heard about Jesus’s crucifixion found it unintelligible that his followers could find anything positive or validating in it. Citing the law as recorded in the Book of Deuteronomy (21.22-23), many considered it a disqualifying curse. Others believed Christ either escaped death in the final moments or that another victim, possibly Simon of Cyrene, took his place.

Confronting these attitudes, early followers of Christ, nevertheless perceived something in this event that they judged to be salvific and triumphant and ultimately reconceived the image of the cross, transforming it into a victory sign. In the early centuries, they argued that its vertical and horizontal dimensions were perceptible everywhere in the world: in ships’ masts, farmers’ ploughs, pick Severan era capital with Roman trophy. Now in the Basilica axes, anchors, or even the human of San Lorenzo fuori le mura, Rome. Photo: author. body itself. It was a sign of its cosmic significance stretching in all four cardinal directions and symbolically encompassing the height, depth, and breadth of the cosmos. Some even saw the image of a crucified figure in the trophies of defeated enemies erected on the battlefield.

What many do not know, however, is that surviving evidence demonstrates the image of an actual image of the cross did not appear with any regularity in Christian iconography before the mid-fourth century. Depictions of Jesus’s crucifixion took even longer to emerge and cannot be clearly identified before the early fifth century and not in any numbers before the sixth. The lack of earlier examples is difficult to explain, particularly given the fact that early Christian documents do not shy away from discussing, defending, Detail from mid-fourth century Passion and describing the mode of Jesus’s death. Sarcophagus, Museo Pio Cristiano, Vatican. Photo: While reasons for the apparent absence Wikimedia Creative Commons, author Jastrow (https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Anastasis_ of cross and crucifix are unclear (it may be Pio_Christiano_Inv31525.jpg). that the image was either too graphically gruesome or too sacred), many scholars connect its first appearance with a vision of the cross ascribed to the Emperor Constantine just prior to his battle with his rival

Christ with cross, giving the New Law to Peter and Paul, ca. 340. Now in the Museo Pio Cristiano, Vatican. Photo: author. Maxentius in 312. However, the figure most associated with Constantine was, in fact, the christogram (or chi rho) rather than the cross. Additionally, many of the earliest images of Jesus’s cross render it more as a slender, gemmed scepter than a rough- hewn and rugged instrument of execution.

Constantine may have had Crucifixion panel from Maskell ivory casket. Now in the British something to do with the Museum. Photo courtesy of the British Museum, Creative appearance of the cross, however. Commons license for non-commercial use. Chronologically, these eventual appearances of images of the cross and crucifix in the material record correspond closely with the rise of pilgrimage to Jerusalem and the swift dissemination of slivers of the True Cross – an object that was reportedly discovered by the Emperor Constantine’s mother, Helena, around the third decade of the fourth century. These relics, perhaps the holiest of all Christendom, found their way into churches across the world and many of the faithful still venerate them on Good Friday. Their initial discovery, then Emperor Heraclius’s restoration and return of the relics after the Persians captured them in Crucifixion from Rabbula Gospels, f ol. 13a, ca. 586. Manuscript now the early seventh century, are in the Biblioteca Medicea Laurenziana, Florence. Photo: Wikimedia Creative Commons (https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Meister_ also the basis of the Feast of des_Rabula-Evangeliums_002.jpg). the Cross, celebrated every September 14th.

Although most readers will have seen with portrayals of a suffering and dying Christ, nailed and bleeding, they may not realize that the earliest depictions more typically showed Jesus as alert and alive—even wearing a purple robe—on the cross. These depictions reflect the early emphasis on Jesus’s victorious defeat of sin and Satan rather than on his vicarious suffering for human iniquity. Many early images of the cross even show it as gilded and studded with gems. Hymns and legends also linked it with the Tree of Life in the Garden of Eden. As a verdant symbol of reconciliation and restoration, the cross was augmented with leafy branches and The Reliquary Cross of Justin II (the Crux Vaticana), flowering plants. Sometimes the cross Constantinople, 568-74. A gift to the people of Rome and even spoke in the first person, relating its Pope John III. Now in the treasury of St. Peter’s Basilica, part in the work of human redemption. It Rome. Photo: Wikimedia Creative Commons, author Gfawkes05 (https://en.wikipediorg/wiki/Cross_of_Justin_II#/ was only later that crucifixes stressed the media/File:The_Cross_of_Justin_II.jpg).

physical agony of Jesus’s death, with bleeding wounds and painfully sagging torso. This development can be related to contemporary theories of atonement and to meditations on and visions of the cross associated with religious orders of the eleventh through the fifteenth centuries.

Tree of life with crucified Christ, apse mosaic, Basilica of San Clemente, Rome, ca. 1130. Photo: author. During the sixteenth century, depictions of the cross and crucifix were again controversial. Although certain Protestant reformers determinedly destroyed what they regarded as idols, some spared the cross, as a single, acceptable holy image. Others, however, found crosses and particularly crucifixes offensive and carried them out of churches out to be smashed, burned, melted down, and variously abused or defiled. Civic monuments with crosses were attacked and demolished. Despite this, the cross survived in Protestant hymns, sermons, and prayers. Evidently verbal depictions and praise of the cross were acceptable while the physical images were deemed idolatrous. The story was not challenged, but the images, which had come to be the center of medieval devotional practices Reliquary Crucifix, found in Winchester, but probably were denounced. Countering Protestant made in Germany, ca. 900-1000. Now in the Victoria iconophobes, Roman Catholic artists set and Albert Museum, London. Photo: Wikimedia Creative about producing crosses and crucifixion Commons (https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/ scenes that were especially vivid and File:Reliquary_cross_VandA_7943-1862.jpg). Klaus Hottinger and Party Take Down the Stadelhofen Crucifix. Attributed to Henrich Tomann (1748-94). From a copy of Heinrich Bullinger’s Reformationgeschicht Photo: Wikimedia Creative Commons, author Roland zh (https:// commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/ File:Carolinum_Z%C3%BCrich _-_Stadelhofen_-_ Reformationschronik_ von_1605_Heinrich_ Bullinger_2015-11-06_17-09-52. JPG) Diego Velázquez, Christ Crucified, oil on canvas, 1632. Now in the Museo del Prado, Madrid. Photo: Wikimedia Creative Commons (https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Cristo_crucificado.jpg). deliberately designed to provoke strong emotional responses from viewers.

Through all the centuries, the cross has been—and remains—a complicated image that arouses terror and revulsion, piety or devotion in Christians as well as non- Christians. It is especially troubling to Jews who associate it with crusades that targeted them as Christ killers. Many contemporary theologians object to the cross and crucifix as they regard it as validating or even valorizing suffering, particularly among women and racially oppressed communities. Others, however, find it a symbol of divine solidarity with their plight. The story of the cross is, in its way, the story of religious rejection, self-assertion, and compromise.

Robin M. Jensen is The Patrick O’Brien Professor of Theology at the University of Notre Dame. Chapter Five Sinai’s Unfinished 150-year Survey Sinai’s Unfinished 150-year Survey

By: Ahmed Shams

The year 1868-1869 CE was an important one for the study of the Sinai Peninsula. That year two British Royal Engineers, Captains Charles W. Wilson and Henry S. Palmer, several non-commissioned officers, in addition to an Arabic linguist and orientalist, an Egyptologist, photographer, natural historian, and others, conducted the first Ordnance Survey for Sinai Peninsula. Although pilgrims, travelers and scholars had visited the vicinity of Mount Sinai since the 4th century CE, this was the first-ever scientific party to undertake the cartographic mapping of Biblical Sinai. But the job of mapping the Sinai is still unfinished.

The map of “The Peninsula of Mount Sinai: A Sketch from the Observations on Ground” by Frederick Holland in 1868 CE. The British survey followed in the footsteps of Europe’s cartographic bias towards Southern Sinai – the presumed location of Biblical Mount Sinai –that had existed since at least 16th century CE. But it also marked an important transition, from what might be called individuality to institutionalization in mapping and mapmaking of the peninsula. Prior to the Ordnance Survey, all the maps for the Sinai were non-survey sketch maps, whether based on armchair cartography, ground observations, or both. One such sketch map in particular laid the foundation for the Ordnance Survey, namely, the 1868 CE “The Peninsula of Mount Sinai: A Sketch from the Observations on Ground” map by Frederick Holland, who later joined the British Royal Engineers.

International geopolitics was the driver of 19th and 20th century mapping. A standoff between the British, who effectively controlled Egypt from 1882 onward, and the Ottoman Empire, ended with the Taba border crisis in 1906 and created the eastern border of the Sinai. The events of World War I led to a transformation in mapping

Sheet III of “Sinai Peninsula” map (1:250,000) by the War Office in 1915 CE (reduced from a survey carried out in 1908-1914 CE). and mapmaking bias from the historic south to the geo- political north, which remained a battlefield throughout the century. Two aspects of mapping in that era are outstanding. One is the contribution of Leonard Woolley and T.E. Lawrence (Lawrence of Arabia), who did a survey of the northeastern Sinai and Negev on behalf of British Military Intelligence just prior to the war under the guise of searching for the Biblical ‘Wilderness of Zin.’ The other is the growing role of aerial photography in creating and checking topographic maps.

Authorities from different countries, including Egypt, Israel, the former Soviet Union and United States, as well as scholars, assumed Sinai’s survey is a finished project. This was partially true when it came to place names, which Sheet V of Tur Sina Map ‘TSM’ by Sinai Peninsula Research (2000- were mostly compiled from 2017), published in 2011 CE the Anglo-Egyptian 1:100,000 Sinai Peninsula topographic map-series produced in mid 1930s-1940s. That map- series remained the definitive source for Sinai’s Gazetteer until 1980s and beyond. Compiling new maps from aerial photography and satellite imagery and older British maps reinforced that perception. The new maps showed more detailed topographic features (contours), while the level of details of the cartographic features (data) did not necessarily improve, with exception of specific areas of high military or economic interest, such as minerals, oil and gas. But is this perception true? Is the mapping of the Sinai essentially complete?

To challenge this the Sinai Peninsula Research (SPR) was founded in 2000 as a private field survey to study the mapping and mapmaking patterns and cartographic knowledge of the peninsula. The results were dramatic. The SPR discovered significant loss of cartographic knowledge on the historic and contemporary maps – information, especially place names, were being removed and lost to scholars. In its field work the SPR survey also reintroduced 19th century practices as the only means to recover the loss of cartographic data, place names plus points of interest. For example, none of the recent large or small scale maps by different survey authorities assigned more than 100 place names in the High Mountains of Sinai Peninsula, while the SPR maps assigned 475 place names.

There has been a 150-years gap in mapping and mapmaking in Sinai Peninsula. This has had a considerable impact on understanding tribal territories, development projects, administrative boundaries and governance, and archaeological surveys. Paradoxically, the institutional resources invested by different survey authorities over this period did not lead to a significant improvement in cartographic data in the second half of 20th century; instead, it led to the deterioration in The map of “Tribal Status” - an attempt to map the tribal territories several areas. These losses in Sinai Peninsula by Abdou Mubasher and Islam Tawfiq in 1978 CE. have unique impacts across the peninsula and beyond.

For cultural geographers like Doreen Massey, place is “the meeting up of histories in space.” It is through place names that Bedouins claim their tribal territories and identify their boundaries. These might reflect traditional mutually recognized ownership of orchards, water wells, conduits, cisterns and reservoirs by an individual or a family, or shared tribal utilisztion of water resources, pasture, temporary campsites or quarries. The young semi-urbanized 21st century Bedouin do not traverse the land extensively like their ancestors to learn about place names and tribal claims to local resources through a long-standing oral tradition. Moreover, those places are not assigned on maps as names or points of interest. That loss has resulted questions about place names which were lost or altered, and will cause counter tribal claims and local disputes in the future.

Cartographers do not transliterate or transcribe place names on maps in their tribal dialect of origin. Cartography standardizes how place names are written on maps as an institutional practice governed by international organizations (such as the United Nations Group of Experts on Geographical Names) and national survey authorities. Sinai has eight Bedouin dialect groups; institutional mapping and mapmaking

The “Sub-regions Strategy” maps of Sinai Development Study by USAID in 1979-85 CE. neglected the importance of transcribing place names in their dialect of origin, or to assign Bedouin land use and resources utilization to identify tribal territories. To do so would have required different Bedouin guides originated from each surveyed tribal territory.

For development planners, place is “where resources exist in landscapes,” and place names and/or points of interest are how development organizations realize the distribution pattern of resources. But only strategic resources are assigned on the large or small-scale maps of the Sinai Peninsula. In addition, only land tenure inside urban boundaries are registered and/or assigned on maps, with some exceptions in remote valleys and mountains. The limited availability of inland cartographic data and the concentration of projects on the coasts of the peninsula helped cause the depopulation of inland Bedouin localities and multilevel development deficiencies.

Place names and points of interest have direct impact on both Bedouins and planners in the peninsula and on the functionality of administrative boundaries. Essentially, a map is the tool to communicate places between parties. A map in this sense informs the realities on ground through cartographic data. The division of Sinai’s administrative map into polygon-shaped municipalities complies with neither local patterns of place names and points of interest, nor with physical geography, or even with local development policy. Sinai’s maps need to be brought back into a working relationship with reality.

For archaeologists, the data provided by cultural geographers and Bedouins serves to locate ancient sites on the landscape and to contextualize ethnoarchaeology, while for planners these data are necessary for site management. Overlooking place names or their meanings contributes to the misinterpretation of local histories or overlooking entire sites. For example, the SPR survey re-discovered the only ‘Qanat’ water system in the Sinai, providing a key link for understanding the diffusion of tunnel-well irrigation systems between the Near East and North Africa.

The site name Deir Fukarra clearly refers to an existing fuqara (called foggara in North Africa). And despite the fact that the name was given to the neighboring excavated site, previous archaeological or cartographic surveys did not mention an existing tunnel- wells system in the vicinity with exception to several conduits. Indirectly, the foggara The underground tunnel-wells of the Sinai’s Foggara in Farsh Abu A’lwan, photograph by Sinai Peninsula Research (SPR) in September 2013 CE. was identified by place name on survey maps before being investigated and assigned on the SPR maps.

Ground truthing a place name revealed an entirely new aspect of cultural history.

Filling the 150-year gap in mapping and mapmaking in Sinai Peninsula and the Middle East by the SPR survey reveals how the peninsula’s maps and history were not well- defined by cartographic data, and did not fully reflecting the local realities on ground. Ultimately, is time for “A New Sinai Map.”

Ahmed Shams teaches International Cultural Heritage Management at Durham University. He is the founder of Sinai Peninsula Research (SPR). ARTICLES EDITED BY ALEX JOFFE

@DrAlexJoffe • [email protected]

Alex Joffe is the editor of the Ancient Near East Today. The publication features contributions from diverse academics, a forum featuring debates of current developments from the field, and links to news and resources. The ANE Today covers the entire Near East, and each issue presents discussions ranging from the state of biblical archaeology to archaeology after the Arab Spring.

MANAGING EDITOR CYNTHIA RUFO [email protected]

Cynthia Rufo is ASOR’s Archivist and Website Manager.

E-BOOK COMPILED BY WILLIAM BERKERY [email protected] INTERESTED IN AN ASOR Membership? ASOR memberships help foster original research and exploration, encourage scholarship in different cultures, uphold the highest academic standards in interdisciplinary research and teaching, and support efforts to protect, preserve, and present to the public the historic and cultural heritage of the Near East and the wider Mediterranean.

LEARN MORE