I from the Mandylion of Edessa to the Shroud of Turin

Home , Acheiropoieta, Barbara Frale, Camuliana, Cubicularius, Guernsey (clothing), Image of Edessa

From the Mandylion of Edessa to the Shroud of Turin

Edited by

Sarah Blick Laura D. Gelfand

VOLUME 1

The titles published in this series are listed at brill.com/amce iii From the Mandylion of Edessa to the Shroud of Turin

The Metamorphosis and Manipulation of a Legend

Andrea Nicolotti

LEIDEN | BOSTON iv

Cover illustration: Lluís Borrassà, Retaule d’advocació franciscana. © Museu Episcopal de Vic, Spain. Photo: Josep Giribet.

Brill and the author have made all reasonable efforts to trace all rights holders to any copyrighted material used in this work. In cases where these efforts have not been successful the publisher welcomes communications from copyright holders, so that the appropriate acknowledgements can be made in future editions, and to settle other permission matters.

Work translated by Hiara Olivera. Editing and additional revisions by Sarah Blick and Laura Gelfand.

Originally published in 2011 in Italian by Edizioni dell’Orso: Dal Mandylion di Edessa alla Sindone di Torino. Metamorfosi di una leggenda. (ISBN: 978-88-6274-307-5)

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Nicolotti, Andrea. [Dal Mandylion di Edessa alla Sindone di Torino. English] From the Mandylion of Edessa to the Shroud of Turin : the metamorphosis and manipulation of a legend / by Andrea Nicolotti ; edited by Sarah Blick and Laura D. Gelfand. pages cm. -- (Art and material culture in medieval and Renaissance Europe, ISSN 2212-4187 ; VOLUME 1) ISBN 978-90-04-26919-4 (hardback : alk. paper) -- ISBN 978-90-04-27852-3 (e-book) 1. Holy Face of Edessa. 2. Holy Shroud. 3. Jesus Christ--Relics. I. Title.

BT587.M3N5313 2014 232.9’66--dc23

2014023664

This publication has been typeset in the multilingual ‘Brill’ typeface. With over 5,100 characters covering Latin, ipa, Greek, and Cyrillic, this typeface is especially suitable for use in the humanities. For more information, please see brill.com/brill-typeface. issn 2212-4187 isbn 978-90-04-26919-4 (hardback) isbn 978-90-04-27852-3 (e-book)

Copyright 2014 by Koninklijke Brill nv, Leiden, The Netherlands. Koninklijke Brill NV incorporates the imprints Brill, Brill Nijhoff, Global Oriental, Hotei Publishing. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher. Authorization to photocopy items for internal or personal use is granted by Koninklijke Brill nv provided that the appropriate fees are paid directly to The Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Suite 910, Danvers, ma 01923, usa. Fees are subject to change.

This book is printed on acid-free paper. v

To Gian Marco

∵ vi Contents Contents vii Contents

Acknowledgements ix List of Illustrations xi

1 Introduction 1

2 Origins and Traditions 7 King Abgar and the Origins of the Legend 7 The Apparition of the Image in Edessa 9 The Development of Traditions about the Image 12 The Siege of Edessa 14 A Later Genesis? 17 An Older Genesis? 18 Silence in Syria and Traditions in Armenia 22 The Iconoclastic Era 26

3 Shifting Perspectives? 29 Acts of Thaddaeus 29 The Term tetrádiplon and the Reliquary of the Image 34 The Question of the Folds 39 The Letter of the Three Patriarchs and Jesus’ Height 47

4 The Translation of the Image of Edessa 53 Gregory Referendarius and the Translation of the Image 53 The Narratio de Imagine Edessena 66 The Keramion 72 The Edessean Cult of the Image 77 The Synaxarium 80 The Liturgical Odes 84

5 The Mandylion in Constantinople 89 The Name “Mandylion” 89 Persistence of Converging and Different Traditions 91 An Elusive Vision 96 The Preservation of the Mandylion in Byzantium 99 The Revolt of the Palace 106 viii Contents

Robert de Clari 109 Latin Sermon 112

6 An Overview of Iconography 120 The Holy Face of Lucca 120 Orderic Vitalis 126 Iconography of the Mandylion 128 Flowers or Holes? 148 Miniatures of the Mandylion 152 The Georgian Icon of Ancha 159 The Madrid’s Skylitzes 162 A Russian Icon 170 Byzantine Coins 173 Two Copies of the Mandylion of Edessa 182

The End 188 The Sainte-Chapelle in Paris and the Disappearance of the Mandylion 188 Conclusions 202

Index of Names 205

Contents Contents vii Contents vii Acknowledgements ix Acknowledgements ix List of illustrations xi List of Illustrations xi Chapter 1 1 Introduction 1 Chapter 2 7 Origins and Traditions 7 King Abgar and the Origins of the Legend 7 The Apparition of the Image in Edessa 9 The Development of Traditions about the Image 12 The Siege of Edessa 14 A Later Genesis? 17 An Older Genesis? 18 Silence in Syria and Traditions in Armenia 22 The Iconoclastic Era 26 Chapter 3 29 Shifting Perspectives? 29 Acts of Thaddaeus 29 The Term tetrádiplon and the Reliquary of the Image 34 The Question of the Folds 39 The Letter of the Three Patriarchs and Jesus’ Height 47 Chapter 4 53 The Translation of the Image of Edessa 53 Gregory Referendarius and the Translation of the Image 53 The Narratio de imagine Edessena 66 The Keramion 72 The Edessean Cult of the Image 77 The Synaxarium 80 The Liturgical Odes 84 Chapter 5 89 The Mandylion in Constantinople 89 The Name “Mandylion” 89 Persistence of Converging and Different Traditions 91 An Elusive Vision 96 The Preservation of the Mandylion in Byzantium 99 The Revolt of the Palace 106 Robert de Clari 109 Latin Sermon 112 Chapter 6 120 An Overview of Iconography 120 The Holy Face of Lucca 120 Orderic Vitalis 126 Iconography of the Mandylion 128 Flowers or Holes? 149 Miniatures of the Mandylion 153 The Georgian Icon of Ancha 160 The Madrid’s Skylitzes 162 A Russian Icon 170 Byzantine Coins 173 Two Copies of the Mandylion of Edessa 182 Chapter 7 188 The End 188 The Sainte-Chapelle in Paris and the Disappearance of the Mandylion 188 Conclusions 202 Index of Names 205 AcknowledgementsAcknowledgements ix Acknowledgements

Between April 10th and May 23. 2010, the city of Turin witnessed the passage of more than two million people who came on pilgrimage to the exhibition of the Holy Shroud.1 At the same time, between the 18th and the 20th of May, an international conference was held at the University of Turin, called Sacred Im- prints and “Objects not Made by Human Hands” in Religions, organized by the University’s Center of Religious Sciences. I was involved in the organization of the conference and because I had been researching the Shroud of Turin since 2009, I was invited to lecture on the relationship between the Shroud and the so-called “Mandylion of Edessa.”2 This was an opportunity to focus on other aspects of the history of the Turinese relic, namely, the invisible ancient writings identified on the sheet,3 the alleged presence of the Shroud in the city of Constantinople – claimed by the crusader Robert de Clari4 – and, most recently, the historiographical theories regarding the Shroud’s supposed journey from Constantinople to fourteenth-century France.5 This book – a significant expansion of the topics covered at the conference – is therefore the fourth part of a series of studies about a millennium of alleged history of the Shroud of Turin covering the fifth through the fourteenth centuries. The parallel study of the two acheiropoieta images led me to review the entire dossier of sources referring to the Mandylion of Edessa and its iconographic tradition; many testimonies are gathered here in the original texts – Greek, Latin, Arabic, Armenian and Syriac, some of them unpublished before – and translated with strict fidelity to the text. Readers should note that I have chosen to sacrifice the smoothness and elegance of English for the sake of

1 The volume Icona del Sabato Santo. Ricordi dell’ostensione della Sindone, Cantalupa, Effatà, 2011, was published to commemorate the exhibition of the Shroud in 2010. 2 A. Nicolotti, “Forme e vicende del Mandilio di Edessa secondo alcune moderne interpretazio- ni,” in A. Monaci Castagno (ed.), Sacre impronte e oggetti «non fatti da mano d’uomo» nelle religioni. Atti del Convegno Internazionale – Torino, 18–20 maggio 2010, Alessandria, Edizioni dell’Orso, 2011, pp. 279–307. The entire volume of the proceedings of the Congress can be downloaded for free from the website www.unito.it/csr, or from Google Books. 3 A. Nicolotti, “I cavalieri Templari, la Sindone di Torino e le sue presunte iscrizioni,” Humanitas 65/2 (2010), pp. 328–339; Id., “La leggenda delle scritte sulla Sindone,” MicroMega 4 (2010), pp. 67–79. 4 A. Nicolotti, “Una reliquia costantinopolitana dei panni sepolcrali di Gesù secondo la Cronaca del crociato Robert de Clari,” Medioevo greco 11 (2011), pp. 151–196. 5 A. Nicolotti, I Templari e la Sindone. Storia di un falso, Rome, Salerno, 2011. x Acknowledgements faithfulness to the original texts.6 Thus, I have provided the reader with an up- dated and comprehensive presentation of the historical and legendary events of the Edessean image, with particular attention to its alleged contacts with the Turinese relic. This book was published in 2011 in Italian, in the Collana di studi del Centro di scienze religiose dell'Università di Torino. The original Italian edition was well received in academic circles,7 so I have not made any substantial changes to the English edition. However, I have taken the opportunity to correct some minor mistakes,8 and to make some adjustments as well as several additions, updates, and adaptations for English-speaking readers. This volume, therefore, can be considered a revised and augmented edition. I thank Prof. Adele Monaci and all the Fellows, colleagues and friends of the Department of Historical Studies of the University of Turin, who work at the Center of Religious Sciences and at the Erik Peterson Library. I would like to express my gratitude to my colleagues and friends Roberto Alciati (Torino) and Luciano Bossina (Padova), and to Livio Cavallo for help with some image processing. I also thank the editors of this series, who have given me the opportunity to publish an English translation of the book, and Edizioni Dell'Orso, which kindly granted free translation rights.

6 All translations from Greek and Latin are mine. Those from Arabic and Syriac have been revised and sometimes entirely done by Alessandro Mengozzi. Anna Sirinian translated all the Armenian texts. 7 V. Kontouma, in Revue des études byzantines 70 (2012), pp. 308–309; V. Poggi, in Orientalia christiana periodica 78/1 (2012), pp. 239–240; V. Polidori, in Medioevo greco 12 (2012), pp. 375– 376; A. Rossi, in Vetera Christianorum 48 (2011), pp. 391–392; P. George, in Revue d'histoire ec- clésiastique 107 (2012), pp. 673–674; K. Toomaspoeg, in Rivista di storia del cristianesimo 10/2 (2013), pp. 508–511; G. Aragione, in Revue d'Histoire et de Philosophie Religieuses 93 (2013), p. 568; A. N. Palmer, in The Catholic Historical Review 100/2 (2014), pp. 319-320. This book of mine, along with the one entitled I Templari e la Sindone, had deserved the attention of L. Canetti – who published his deep reflections on the issue in “Dai Templari a Bisanzio o la falsa preistoria della Sindone di Torino,” in G. Vespignani (ed.), Polidoro. Studi offerti ad Antonio Carile, Spoleto, Fondazione CISAM, 2013, pp. 827–847 – and of F. Pieri, “La Sindone fra nuove e antiche leggende,” Rivista di storia e letteratura religiosa 48 (2012), pp. 167–178. 8 An errata corrige of the Italian version can be found in my personal webpage at www.academia.edu. List Of Illustrations xi List of illustrations List of Illustrations

Figure caption 1 The Shroud folded as a tetrádiplon 35 2 The face of the man of the Shroud (color contrast has been digitally enhanced) 37 3 Alleged folding creases of the Shroud 40 4 Maiorina of Vetranio featuring two Roman labarum, Sisak, Croatia 41 5 Alleged traces of the folding of the Shroud, according to John Jack- son 42 6 Surface of the Shroud 43 8 Walls of the Partian palace of Hatra, Turkey (third century) 75 7 A head of Medusa, Sagalassos, Turkey, Antonine Nymphaeum (161– 180 ce) 75 9 A representation of the Edessean niche according to Ian Wilson 76 10 The Holy Face of Lucca, St. Martin’s Cathedral 121 11 Fragment of an Edessean mosaic, Şanlıurfa Museum (sixth century) 129 12 Face of Christ. Telovani, Georgia, Church of the Holy Cross (from the turn of the eighth century and the beginnings of the ninth ce) 129 13 King Abgar with the Edessean image, detail. Dayr al-Suryân, Egypt (tenth century ce) 130 14 King Abgar. Detail from a diptych. Monastery of St. Catherine on Mount Sinai, Egypt (tenth century ce) 131 15 Mandylion. Lagoudera, Cyprus, Church of the Panagia tou Arakou (1192 ce) 133 16 Mandylion. Kato Lefkara, Cyprus, Church of Archangel Michael (end of twelfth century ce) 133 17 Mandylion. Pskov, Russia, Transfiguration Church of the Mirozh Monas- tery (c. 1140 ce) 134 18 Precious linen textile in the Museo Sacro Vaticano, inv. 1256 (eighth-tenth centuries ce) 135 20 Mandylion. Spas-Nereditsa, Russia, Church of the Savior (1199 ce) 136 21 Pattern of the folding of the Shroud and distribution of the nails that fixed it to the board, according to Ian Wilson (1978) 137 22 Lamentation over the Dead Christ. Gorno Nerezi, Macedonia, Church of St. Panteleimon (1164 ce) 138 23 Last Supper fresco. Göreme, Turkey, Karanlık kilise (eleventh century ce) 138 xii List Of Illustrations

24 Mandylion and Keramion. Codex of John Climacus’ Scala Paradisi, Vatican Library, codex Ross. 251, f. 12v (eleventh-early twelfth century ce) 139 25 Statue of Uthal, king of Hatra (from Temple III). Mosul Museum, Iraq (second century ce) 141 26 Cosmas Indicopleustes, pattern of the universe. Monastery of St. Catherine on Mount Sinai, Egypt, codex Sin. gr. 1186, f. 69r. (eleventh century ce) 143 27 Cosmas Indicopleustes, Heavens with enthroned Christ. Vatican Library, codex Vat. gr. 699, f. 89r (ninth century ce) 144 28 Cosmas Indicopleustes, the curtains of the Mosaic Tabernacle. Florence, Italy, Biblioteca Medicea Laurenziana, cod. Laur. Med. Pl. 9.28, f. 109r (eleventh century ce) 144 29 Sainte Face, Laon Cathedral, France (first half of the thirteenth century ce) 145 30 Apse of Hagia Sophia, Istanbul, Turkey (between 867 and 1356 ce), in an engraving by Guillaume Grelot, Relation nouvelle d’un voyage de Constantinople, Paris, Rocolet, 1680, p. 148 147 31 Apse of Hagia Sophia, Istanbul, Turkey (between 867 and 1356 ce) 147 32 Apse of Hagia Sophia, Istanbul, Turkey (between 867 and 1356 ce), in an engraving by Cornelius Loos (1710 ce) 148 33 Burnt holes on the Shroud 149 34 Mandylion. Göreme, Turkey, Saklı kilise (eleventh century ce) 150 35 Mandylion. Göreme, Turkey, Karanlık kilise (eleventh century ce) 150 36 Alleged reliquary of the Shroud (reconstruction by Mario Moroni) 152 37 Mandylion. Alaverdi Tetraevangelion, Tbilisi, Georgia, National Centre of Manuscripts, ms. A484, f. 320v (1054 ce) 153 38 Christ Writing Letter. Alaverdi Tetraevangelion, Tbilisi, Georgia, National Centre of Manuscripts, ms. A484, f. 318r (1054 ce) 154 39 Ananias with the Mandylion and Abgar 155 40 Ananias with the Mandylion. Amulet-roll of New York, U.S.A., Pierpont Morgan Library, cod. M499, section 12 (1374 ce) 156 41 Triumph of the Mandylion. Lobkov’s Prologue, Moscow, Russia, State Historical Museum, cod. Chludov 187, f. 1 (1282 ce) 157 43 Miniature featuring the Mandylion being retrieved from a well. Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale de France, cod. Par. Lat. 2688, f. 82r (c. 1270 ce) 158 42 Mandylion. Manuscript of Michael Glycas’ Chronicle, Venice, Italy, Biblioteca Nazionale Marciana, cod. Marc. gr. Z402, f. 208r (1289 ce) 158 44 Miniature featuring Abgar receiving the Mandylion. Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale de France, cod. Par. fr. 2810, fol. 230r (1410–1412 ce) 159 List Of Illustrations xiii

45 Painting by Lluís Borrassà, Abgar receives the Mandylion and the letter from Jesus. Retaule d’advocació franciscana, Museu Episcopal de Vic, Spain (1414–1415 ce) 160 46 Anchiskhati, detail. Tbilisi, Georgia, Shalva Amiranashvili Museum of Fine Arts, inv. Tb331 (sixth-seventh century ce) 161 47 Madrid Skylitzes, reception of the Mandylion. Madrid, Spain, Biblioteca Nacional, cod. Vitr/26/2, f. 131r (late eleventh century ce) 163 48 Madrid Skylitzes, Constantine Phagitzes receives and delivers the relics. Madrid, Spain, Biblioteca Nacional, cod. Vitr/26/2, f. 207v (late eleventh century ce) 165 49 Madrid Skylitzes, translation of Jesus’ epistle. Madrid, Spain, Biblioteca Nacional, cod. Vitr/26/2, f. 205r (late eleventh century ce) 166 50 Madrid Skylitzes, procession to the Blachernae carrying the relics 169 51 Stefan Arefʾev, Savior acheiropoieton and “Weep not for me, oh mother” 171 52 Moscow School, Savior acheiropoieton and “Weep not for me, oh mother” 172 53 Popov Petr Ivanov Kostromitin, Icon of the Savior acheiropoieton with scenes of the cycle of Abgar 174 54 Solidus of Justinian II (first reign), Constantinople (692–695 ce) 176 55 Icon of the Christ Pantokrator, Monastery of St. Catherine on Mount Sinai, Egypt (sixth century ce) 177 56 Solidus of Basil I, Constantinople (868–879 ce) 178 57 Copy of the face of Zeus of Olympia 180 58 Solidus of Justinian II (second reign), Constantinople (705–711 ce) 181 59 Mandylion of Genoa, detail. San Bartolomeo degli Armeni, Genoa, Italy (second half of the thirteenth century ce) 183 60 Mandylion of Genoa, detail of the frame. San Bartolomeo degli Armeni, Genoa, Italy (second half of the thirteenth century ce) 184 61 Mandylion of Rome. Vatican City, Pontifical Sacristy (second half of the thirteenth century ce) 185 62 Miniature of Giovanni Todeschino, Book of Hours of the Sainte-Chapelle of Paris, f. 137v, detail 95 63 Grande chasse of the Sainte-Chapelle, engraving dating from 1649 197 64 Sainte-Chapelle of Paris, France. Upper chapel, apse 199 65 Sainte-Chapelle of Paris, France. Grande Chasse, engraving of Sauveur- Jérôme Morand, Histoire de la Ste-Chapelle Royale du Palais, Paris, Clousier – Prault, 1790, p. 40 200 66 Sainte-Chapelle of Paris, France. Detail of the Grande Chasse, engraving of Sauveur-Jérôme Morand, Histoire de la Ste-Chapelle Royale du Palais, cit., ibidem 201 xiv List Of Illustrations Introduction 1

Chapter 1 Introduction

A face alone, as it was that of Abgar and of the Veronica, should not be called so absolutely image of Christ […] inasmuch as the head of a man is not the man, so the image of a head or of a face should not be called absolutely and straightforwardly the image of a man.1

Until the last two decades of the last century there was a substantial agreement on what was the acheiropoieton image (that is, the image “not made by [human] hands”) of the Christ of Edessa; on its history, its characteristics and, to some extent, its fate.2 One of the legends about this image – the most

1 Agaffino Solaro de Moretta, Sindone evangelica, historica e theologica, Turin, Cavalleris, 1627, p. 79: “Un volto solo, qual era quello di Abagaro e della Veronica, non si dovria dire così assolutamente imagine di Cristo […] perché sì come testa d’un’huomo non è huomo, così l’imagine della testa ò del volto non si deve dire assoluta & semplicemente imagine d’huomo.” 2 These are the works that I deem essential: R.A. Lipsius, Die edessenische Abgarsage kri- tisch untersucht, Braunschweig, Schwetschke, 1880, pp. 52–62; L.J. Tixeront, Les origines de l’Église d’Édesse et la légende d’Abgar, Paris, Maisonneuve, 1888, pp. 20–159; E. von Dob- schütz, Christusbilder. Untersuchungen zur christlichen Legende, Leipzig, Hinrichs, 1899, pp. 102–196; H. Leclercq, “Abgar,” in Id. – F. Cabrol, Dictionnaire d’archéologie chrétienne et de liturgie, vol. 1, Paris, Letouzey et Ané, 1924, coll. 87–97; S. Runciman, “Some Remarks on the Image of Edessa,” Cambridge Historical Journal 3/3 (1931), pp. 238–252; C. Bertelli, “Sto- ria e vicende dell’immagine edessena,” Paragone. Rivista mensile di arte figurativa n.s. 37 (1968), pp. 3–33; A. Cameron, “The History of the Image of Edessa: The Telling of a Story,” Harvard Ukrainian Studies 7 (1983), pp. 80–94; Ead., “The Mandylion and Byzantine Icon- oclasm,” in H.L. Kessler – G. Wolf (eds.), The Holy Face and the Paradox of Representation, Bologna, Nuova Alfa, 1998, pp. 33–54; E.N. Meshherskaja, Легенда об Авгаре, раннеси рийский литературный памятик, Moscow, Nauka, 1984; H. Belting, Likeness and Pres- ence. A History of the Image before the Era of Art, Chicago, University of Chicago Press, 1994, pp. 208–224; H.L. Kessler, “Il mandylion,” in G. Morello – G. Wolf (eds.), Il volto di Cristo, Milan, Electa, 2000, pp. 67–76; E. Fernández González, “Del santo Mandilyon a la Verónica: sobre la vera icona de Cristo en la edad media,” in M.L. Melero Moneo (ed.), Imágenes y promotores en el arte medieval: miscelánea Joaquín Yarza Luaces, Barcelona, Universidat Autònoma de Barcelona, 2001, pp. 353–371; A.M. Lidov, “Святой Мандилион. История реликвии,” in L. Evseeva – A.M. Lidov – N.N. Chugreeva (eds.), Спас Нерукотво рный в русской иконе, Moscow, Moskovskie uchebniki i kartolitografija, 2005, pp. 12–39; P. Hetherington, “The Image of Edessa: Some Notes on its Later Fortunes,” in E.M. Jeffreys (ed.), Byzantine Style, Religion and Civilization. In Honour of Sir Steven Runciman,

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2014 | doi 10.1163/9789004278523_002 2 Chapter 1 widely known, which in some respects overcame that of another acheiropoieton image, so-called “of Camuliana”3 – states that, first in Edessa and later in Constantinople a cloth was preserved and venerated for a long time. Jesus wiped his face with this cloth, miraculously imprinting the image of his own face on it. All traces of the alleged original of this image have been long lost, but it is still known to the Christian East of Byzantine tradition thanks to many later reproductions. A liturgical commemoration takes place on August 16 every year, in memory of the cloth’s translation from Edessa to Constantinople in the year 944. The situation changed in 1978 when the British writer Ian Wilson, a prolific author with a tendency to investigate “mysterious” issues,4 published a book that, among other things, discussed the Edessean image and turned out to be

Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 2006, pp. 192–205; M. Illert, Die Abgarlegende. Das Christusbild von Edessa, Turnhout, Brepols, 2007; A.N. Palmer, “The Logos of the Man- dylion: Folktale, or Sacred Narrative?” in L. Greisiger – C. Rammelt – J. Tubach (eds.), Edessa in hellenistisch-römischer Zeit, Beirut, Orient-Institut, 2009, pp. 117–208; S. Ionescu Berechet, “Τὸ ἅγιον μανδήλιον: istoria unei tradiţii,” Studii Teologice 2 (2010), pp. 109–185 (I do not agree with all the conclusions); E. Fogliadini, Il volto di Cristo: gli acheropiti del Salvatore nella tradizione dell’oriente cristiano, Milan, Jaca Book, 2011. About the latter, including general observations on the relation between history and theology of the sacred image, see A. Nicolotti, “Storia, leggenda e teologia delle immagini non fatte da mano d’uomo: osservazioni metodologiche in margine ad una recente pubblicazione,” Rivista di storia del cristianesimo 11/1 (2014), pp. 189–202, and E. Brunet, “Alle radici dell’immagine cristiana. Considerazioni sulla supposta antinomia tra arte sacra orientale e occidentale,” Marcianum 9 (2013), pp. 139–165. 3 Cf. E. von Dobschütz, Christusbilder, cit., pp. 40–60. Camuliana or Camulia was a town in Cappadocia, located northwest of Caesarea, today in Turkey. The oldest story about this image is that of the Pseudo-Zachariah of Mytilene, Historia ecclesiastica, 12,4; translation in F.J. Hamilton – E.W. Brooks, The Syriac Chronicle Known as that of Zachariah of Mity- lene, London, Methuen, 1899, pp. 320–321. 4 This is how the author introduces himself in his last book: “Ian Wilson is a prolific, inter- nationally published author specialising in historical and religious mysteries. Born in south London, he graduated in Modern History with honours, from Magdalen College, Oxford University, in 1963.” (I. Wilson, The Shroud. The 2000-Year-Old Mystery Solved, Lon- don, Bantam, 2010, p. 370). An incomplete list of his publications: Mind out of Time? Rein- carnation Claims Investigated, 1981; The Exodus Enigma, 1985; Worlds Beyond: From the Files of the Society for Psychical Research, 1986; Undiscovered: The Fascinating World of Undiscovered Places, 1987; The Bleeding Mind: An Investigation into the Mysterious Phe- nomenon of Stigmata, 1988; The After Death Experience: The Physics of the Non-Physical, 1989; Superself: The Hidden Powers Within Us, 1989; The Columbus Myth: Did Men of Bristol Reach America Before Columbus?, 1992; In Search of Ghosts, 1996; The Bible is History, 2000; Life after Death: The Evidence, 2001; Past Lives: Unlocking the Secrets of Our Ancestors, 2001; Introduction 3 a popular success.5 It had the effect of concentrating the attention of a large audience on this lost relic, almost unknown to the West, and igniting a debate that, up to this point, had been conducted exclusively by historians and iconographers. Thirty years later, this debate continues to rage. Wilson’s book primarily focused on the Shroud of Turin, analyzing it from historical, exegetical, archaeological, medical and scientific points of view. Un- like many other previous publications with similar themes and settings, it soon became a point of reference for all those interested in the early history of the Turinese relic due to two revolutionary interpretative hypotheses. The first hypothesis states that the Shroud arrived in the West through the mediation of the Knights Templar, who secretly preserved it until the suppression of their Order. I have already considered this issue elsewhere,6 so here I devote myself to the examination of the second hypothesis, which states that the Shroud and the Edessean acheiropoieton image were one and the same object.7 In the years after 1978, Wilson’s identification between the Shroud and the portrait of Edessa received quite a bit of attention, especially from the press and non-academic publishing houses. Some of the many authors who followed this trend, all of them staunch supporters of the authenticity of the Shroud of Turin, include: Pierluigi Baima Bollone, Daniel Raffard de Brienne, Werner Bulst, Massimo Centini, Karlheinz Dietz, Robert Drews, André-Marie Dubarle, Barbara Frale, Maurus Green, Mark Guscin, Emanuela Marinelli, Heinrich Pfeiffer, Ilaria Ramelli, Daniel Scavone, Maria Grazia Siliato, and Gino Zani notto. Important opposing voices have been raised too; expert scholars including Steven Runciman, Averil Cameron, Sebastian Brock, Gerhard Wolf, Bernard Flusin, Pierre du Bourguet and Ewa Kuryluk, have claimed that “the Edessean image has nothing to do with the Turin Shroud,”8 thus rejecting what they

Before the Flood: The Biblical Flood as a Real Event and How it Changed the Course of Civili- sation, 2001; Nostradamus: The Man Behind the Prophecies, 2003. 5 I. Wilson, The Turin Shroud, London, Gollancz, 1978, hastily translated: Id., Le Suaire de Turin. Linceul du Christ?, Paris, Albin Michel, 1978. His theories were already well-known in the sindonological field: for instance, Id., The Shroud’s History before the 14th Century, in K. Stevenson (ed.), Proceedings of the 1977 U.S. Conference of Research on the Shroud of Turin, New York, Holy Shroud Guild, 1977, pp. 31–49. 6 A. Nicolotti, I Templari e la Sindone. Storia di un falso, Rome, Salerno, 2011 (on the history of the relic between the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries). 7 Theodora Bates Cogswell seems to have had the same idea in the 1930s. Her unpublished lectures are kept in the Atlanta International Center for the Continuing Study of the Shroud of Turin. 8 A. Cameron, “The Mandylion and Byzantine Iconoclasm,” cit., p. 33, note 3. Wilson answered to this article by Averil Cameron, concluding: “Perhaps there will be a day, 4 Chapter 1 deem to be an “improbable theory” supported by “very unsatisfactory” evidence.9 Also some representatives of the authenticist trend of the Shroud experts, it must be said, have adopted quite a skeptical or radically opposite view based on the examination of the sources.10 Some have spoken of “inferences

maybe as a result of radiocarbon dating, when the Shroud will be proved to be a fourteenth century forgery. If that comes, then I will gracefully concede that Professor Cam- eron was right all the time.” In 1988, a radiocarbon dating test was performed, and three laboratories concurred with the dates obtained; the tested samples dated from the Middle Ages, between the years 1260 and 1390. Wilson, however, did not change his mind (“The Shroud and the Mandylion. A Reply to Professor Averil Cameron,” in W. Meacham [ed.], Turin Shroud – Image of Christ? Proceedings of a Symposium Held in Hong Kong, Hong Kong, Cosmos Printing, 1987, p. 26). 9 I quote from S. Brock’s review of I. Ramelli’s “Atti di Mar Mari,” Brescia, Paideia, 2008, in Ancient Narrative 7 (2009), p. 126; Id., “Transformations of the Edessa Portrait of Christ,” Journal of Assyrian Academic Studies 18/1 (2004), p. 56. See also G. Wolf, Schleier und Spie- gel, Schleier und Spiegel. Traditionen des Christusbildes und die Bildkonzepte der Renais- sance, Munchen, Fink, 2002, p. 29; P. du Bourguet, review of A.M. Dubarle, “Histoire ancienne du Linceul de Turin,” Paris, OEIL, 1985, in Études 365 (1986), pp. 138–139. Accord- ing to Ewa Kuryluk “Wilson wants so badly to prove that the Turin shroud is the burial cloth of Christ that he jumps to many unjustified conclusions” (Veronica and Her Cloth, Cambridge, Blackwell, 1991, p. 225, note 3). Similar words are used by B. Flusin in his review of A.M. Dubarle – H. Leynen, “Histoire ancienne du Linceul de Turin,” Guibert, Paris, 1998, in Revue des études byzantines 58 (2000), p. 289: “The identity between the shroud of Turin and the Mandylion is not at all proved. All the Byzantine documents available lead, on the contrary, to deny it.” Sir Steven Runciman: “I cannot think it helps the Shroud to force its identification with the Image” (in H.D. Sox, File on the Shroud, Seveno- aks, Coronet, 1978, p. 55). Some publications dedicated to the iconography of Christ record the sindonological hypothesis too, but point out that “its supporters do not provide any documentary confirmation” (N.I. Korneeva, Иконография Христа, Moscow, Junyj hudozhnik, 2002, p. 5). Last but not least, Franco Cardini deems the identification between the Mandylion and the Shroud inacceptable and “quite fictional” (“La Sindone. Note storiche,” Vita e pensiero 72 [1989], pp. 194–198). 10 For example E. Poulle, “Les sources de l’histoire du Linceul de Turin. Revue critique,” Revue d’Histoire Ecclésiastique 104/3–4 (2009), pp. 747–782. Giulio Ricci has originally considered it “at least reasonable” to keep the “two objects quite distinct” (L’uomo della Sin- done è Gesù, Milan, Cammino, 1985, p. 334), to then recover part of the argument saying that the cloth of Edessa was not the Shroud but a copy of the sole face of the Shroud (Id., La Sindone contestata, difesa, spiegata, Rome, Emmaus, 1992, pp. 346–349). David Sox, who was once General Secretary of the British Society for the Turin Shroud, is also against Wilson’s thesis (File on the Shroud, cit., pp. 55–57). Some of the Turinese sindonologists greeted Wilson’s hypothesis with skepticism: “They are all conjectures based on no precise evidence, that cannot even be presented as hypotheses because, to be such, they should possess a scientific dimension that they lack, and that cannot be provided by the Introduction 5 which do not take into account the principles that underlie the methodology of history.”11 Sometimes, the negative judgment is expressed in harsh words: for Alain Desreumaux, for example, the identification of the two relics “is only due to the ignorance of the American Ian Wilson, and it was repeated with the complacent lightness typical of some journalists.”12 Pier Angelo Gramaglia also believes that the Shroud is a relic “irreconcilable with the cloth of Edessa,” despite the opposition of certain “scandalous, pseudoscientific publications.”13 Historians are due to respond to the Shroud experts who accept the theory of Wilson, claims Andrew Palmer, “not for any academic merit (they have none), but for their widespread diffusion, which means that scholars who aspire to communicate with the general public need to know what distortions have been presented to that public, under some of the outward trappings of scholarship.”14 A theory like this, so widespread and at the same time rejected with such unusual harshness, rarely occurs in academic publications and this is why I felt compelled to conduct a thorough review of the matter. In this book I provide, for the first time, a focused critical examination of the arguments put forward by those who believe that the identification of the Shroud of Turin with the Edessean image is proven beyond doubt.15 The analysis of a number of

different editions in several languages, because the interests of the publishing industry are very different from those that seek after the historical truth” (L. Fossati – G. Donna d’Oldenico, “Rassegna della celebrazione del IV centenario del trasferimento della Sin- done da Chambéry a Torino e guida bibliografica,” Studi piemontesi 8/1 [1979], p. 221). A few years later, Fossati changed his mind radically. 11 G. Donna d’Oldenico, “La Sindone nella politica dei Duchi di Savoia e nella considera- zione di S. Carlo Borromeo zelatore della prima ricerca critico esegetica,” Verbanus 5 (1984), p. 250. The author has been President of the Royal Confraternity of the Holy Shroud and of the International Center of Sindonology (Turin). 12 A. Desreumaux, Histoire du roi Abgar et de Jésus, Turnhout, Brepols, 1993, p. 38, note 27. Desreumaux believes that Wilson is from the United States, while he is instead British. He now lives in Australia. 13 P.A. Gramaglia, “La Sindone di Torino: alcuni problemi storici,” Rivista di storia e letteratura religiosa 24 (1988), pp. 567–568. 14 A.N. Palmer, “The Logos of the Mandylion,” cit., p. 121, note 15. 15 David W. Rolfe has been the most active film producer in support of Wilson’s theory. He produced a documentary in 1978, entitled The Silent Witness. An Investigation into the Holy Shroud of Turin, which was released along with a book: P. Brent – D. Rolfe, The Silent Wit- ness, London, Futura Publications, 1978. Together with Wilson, Rolfe was in charge of making the official documentary for the exhibition of the Shroud in 2010 (Shroud – Passio Christi Passio Hominis). The film was widely distributed and translated into seven languages. In 2010, on the occasion of the exhibition, an animated cartoon for children was 6 Chapter 1 historical, literary and iconographic sources allows for verification of the possibility that the characteristics of the Shroud of Turin are compatible and comparable to those handed down about the image of Edessa. Such characteristics are at first sight contradictory: the Shroud is a burial linen nearly 4.50 meters long and more than 1.10 meters wide, with a total weight of just over 1.100 kg. It bears the double monochromatic image, front and back, of a complete, bloodied corpse of a man, his eyes closed, bearing the marks of many wounds. The Edessean relic, instead, was a small piece of cloth, the size of a hand towel, on which there are printed only the features of the face of Jesus in color: Jesus is alive, his eyes are open, his face shows no wound.

made and translated into seven languages, in which the journey of the Shroud to Edessa is narrated: M. Durando, Mystery after Mystery, Milan, San Paolo, 2010. There are also several novels based on the theory, such as, J. Navarro, La hermandad de la Sábana Santa, Barcelona, Plaza & Janés, 2004 (English translation: The Brotherhood of the Holy Shroud, New York, Bantam Dell, 2006), and M. Guscin, All the Diamonds in the World, Las Vegas, ArcheBooks, 2011. Origins And Traditions 7

Chapter 2 Origins and Traditions

King Abgar and the Origins of the Legend

It is important to start from a preliminary fact: the legend of the image of Edes- sa which has prevailed in the tradition is only the culmination of a gradual reworking of previous legends, sometimes very different from each other, of which the genesis and development can be reconstructed to some extent. All, however, agree on the figure of Abgar V Ukkāmā, who, in the same years in which Jesus of Nazareth was alive, ruled over Osroene from the city of Edessa. The first evidence of the legendary story about him is contained in the Eccle- siastical History of Eusebius of Caesarea, written between 311 and 325:

King Abgar, who most outstandingly ruled over the peoples beyond the Euphrates, being his body consumed by a disease that was dreadful and incurable by human power, having heard of the great name of Jesus and of his powers, unanimously attested by all, became His suppliant, send- ing a letter-bearer entreating a deliverance from his disease. But, though He did not heed the suppliant at the time, He at least deemed him worthy of a personal letter, promising him that He would have sent one of his disciples for the cure of his disease and, at the same time, for the salvation of himself and all his kin […]. You have also, of this things, written testimony taken from the archives of Edessa, which was at that time a royal city; there indeed, in the public documents, are contained the antiquities and the deeds of Abgar, and these things are found preserved from that time to this day.1

1 Eusebius Caesariensis, Historia ecclesiastica, I,13,2–5: βασιλεὺς Ἄβγαρος, τῶν ὑπὲρ Εὐφράτην ἐθνῶν ἐπισημότατα δυναστεύων, πάθει τὸ σῶμα δεινῷ καὶ οὐ θεραπευτῷ ὅσον ἐπ’ ἀνθρωπείᾳ δυνάμει καταφθειρόμενος, ὡς καὶ τοὔνομα τοῦ Ἰησοῦ πολὺ καὶ τὰς δυνάμεις συμφώνως πρὸς ἁπάντων μαρτυρουμένας ἐπύθετο, ἱκέτης αὐτοῦ πέμψας δι’ ἐπιστοληφόρου γίνεται, τῆς νόσου τυχεῖν ἀπαλλαγῆς ἀξιῶν. Ὁ δὲ μὴ τότε καλοῦντι ὑπακούσας, ἐπιστολῆς γοῦν αὐτὸν ἰδίας καταξιοῖ, ἕνα τῶν αὐτοῦ μαθητῶν ἀποστέλλειν ἐπὶ θεραπείᾳ τῆς νόσου ὁμοῦ τε αὐτοῦ σωτηρίᾳ καὶ τῶν προσηκόντων ἁπάντων ὑπισχνούμενος […]. Ἔχεις καὶ τούτων ἀνάγραπτον τὴν μαρτυρίαν, ἐκ τῶν κατὰ Ἔδεσσαν τὸ τηνικάδε βασιλευομένην πόλιν γραμματοφυλακείων ληφθεῖσαν· ἐν γοῦν τοῖς αὐτόθι δημοσίοις χάρταις, τοῖς τὰ παλαιὰ καὶ τὰ ἀμφὶ τὸν Ἄβγαρον πραχθέντα περιέχουσι, καὶ ταῦτα εἰς ἔτι νῦν ἐξ ἐκείνου πεφυλαγμένα εὕρηται (ed. E. Schwartz, Eusebius Kirchengeschichte, Leipzig, Hinrichs, 1932).

Eusebius reports a Greek translation of both the letter of Abgar to Jesus and of the answer; both delivered by a courier (ταχυδρόμος) named Ananias. The letters are followed by the story, translated from Syriac, of what happened next: Judas Thomas the apostle sent to Abgar one of the Seventy, Thaddaeus, who healed the king and brought Christianity to Osroene. It is difficult to determine Eusebius’ source: a Syriac text that he actually had in his hands? Or perhaps, as Eduard Schwartz hypothesized, a fraudulent Greek translation of a supposed original Syriac, a “sketchy political-ecclesiastical fake that makes up a direct relationship between Jesus and Edessa in order to claim an independent status for the Edessean Church?”2 A more important quest is to establish, as a starting point, the source that dates from the beginning of the fourth century and refers to a legend regarding an alleged correspondence between Abgar and Jesus. In this legend, however, there is no mention whatsoever of any image of Christ.3 When the pilgrim Egeria arrived in Edessa from the West, probably in April 384, she could see the aforementioned letters and received, as a gift, a copy of their contents; the allegedly original letters, at that time, were still preserved, not in the archives of the city of which Eusebius spoke, but in the tomb of the Apostle Thomas. Egeria noticed that the text of Jesus’ letter was different from the one she knew: in Edessa there was in fact a newer and more verbose version. In this new version there was a part, absent in the text known by Eusebi- us, in which Jesus promised that the city of Edessa was to be unconquerable. The letter had therefore gained a prophylactic value: to prove this, Egeria recalls an occasion in which simply exhibiting the relic at the city gate caused the Persians to flee and saved the city from invasion. The apotropaic function of the letter explains the existence and the discovery, in the modern era, of in- scriptions and epigraphs that reproduced the text, which were displayed as amulets.4 The legendary role assumed by the relic is similar, in some respects, to that of the ancient pagan “Ancile of Numa,” a bronze shield said to have

2 E. Schwartz, “Zu Eusebius Kirchengeschichte,” Zeitschrift für die neutestamentliche Wis- senschaft 4 (1903), p. 65. A recent hypothesis about Eusebius’ sources can be found in A. Mirkovic, Prelude to Constantine. The Abgar Tradition in Early Christianity, Frankfurt am Main, Peter Lang, 2004, pp. 89–115. 3 It is utterly false that “Eusebius reported in his history of the early church that an object, presumably a cloth with an image, was taken to king Abgar by one of Jesus’ disciples in ad 30” (M. and A. Whanger, The Shroud Of Turin. An Adventure of Discovery, Franklin, Provi- dence, 1998, p. 5. The same mistake is found in R. Hoare, The Turin Shroud is Genuine, Channel Islands, Guernsey, 1994, p. 34). 4 Collected and translated in M. Illert, Die Abgarlegende, cit., pp. 44–48 and 178–197. Origins And Traditions 9 fallen from heaven that, according to an oracle of the Muses, would have en- sured Rome’s greatness for as long as it remained in the city.5 The legend of Abgar’s correspondence had increased with the addition of new details, but there is still no mention of any images:6 Egeria knew of only two portraits of Abgar and his son Magnus, exhibited at the royal palace.7 The comes Darius, in his letter addressed to Augustine of Hippo, circa 428, shows knowledge of both the letter and the promise of impregnability that by then was a part of it, but nothing else.8 It is not until a later time that we see the appearance of the Edessean image of Christ in the legend.9

The Apparition of the Image in Edessa

In the Syriac Doctrine of Addai,10 the role of the courier Ananias (here Ḥanān) is considerably strengthened: Eusebius’ ταχυδρόμος, in fact, becomes the king’s secretary (designated with a name corresponding to the Greek ταβουλάριος) and painter. He does not return home with a letter written by Jesus, but with a

5 In this regard, L. Cracco Ruggini, “Oggetti ‘caduti dal cielo’ nel mondo antico: valenze religiose e politiche,” in A. Monaci Castagno (ed.), Sacre impronte e oggetti “non fatti da mano d’uomo,” cit., pp. 95–111. 6 Regarding the possible different drafts of the correspondence, P.A. Gramaglia, “I cimeli cristiani di Edessa,” Approfondimento sindone 3/1 (1999), pp. 1–51. It is false that Egeria talks of an “acheiropoieton image” in Edessa (M. Centini, La reliquia del Gran Maestro, Milan, Piemme, 2010, p. 169). 7 Egeria, Peregrinatio, 17,1; 19,6–19 (ed. P. Maraval, Égérie. Journal de voyage, Paris, Cerf, 1982). 8 Darius, Epistula ad Augustinum, 5 (ed. A. Goldbacher, Sancti Aurelii Augustini opera 2.4, Vienna, Tempsky, 1911). 9 From the silence of the ancient sources Emanuela Marinelli derives a completely opposite conclusion: “In the time of Eusebius and Egeria it was no longer possible to display the image.” On what grounds does she believe that it can be said that such an image existed is beyond my understanding, since no one had ever talked about it. The only argument is the author’s conviction that such an image is the Shroud, and that the Shroud is authentic. This she deems sufficient to qualify the fruit of her own illogical deduction as “undeniable” (E. Marinelli, La Sindone. Testimone di una presenza, Cinisello Balsamo, San Paolo, 2010, pp. 34–35). 10 About this see A. Desreumaux, Histoire du roi Abgar et de Jésus, cit., and J. González Núñez, La leyenda del rey Abgar y Jesús, Madrid, Ciudad Nueva, 1995. A presentation that cares for the literary integrity of the text in S.H. Griffith, “The Doctrina Addai as a Para- digm of Christian Thought in Edessa in the Fifth Century,” Hugoye 6/2 (2003), pp. 269–292 (available at www.bethmardutho.org/images/hugoye/volume6/hv6n2griffith.pdf). 10 Chapter 2 transcription of his words: for Jesus had spoken his answer to Abgar’s letter without writing anything. However, there is further innovation in the story of what happened in Jerusalem on that occasion:

When Ḥanān the secretary saw that Jesus had spoken to him in this manner, being the royal painter, took and painted a likeness of Jesus with choice pigments and brought it with him to Abgar the king, his master. And when king Abgar saw the likeness, he received it with great joy and placed it with great honor in one of the rooms of his palace.11

The text of the Doctrine is related to that of Eusebius, but does not depend on it and it differs significantly from the Syriac translations of the Ecclesiastical History circulating at the time. While they are independent from each other, both texts probably draw from a common tradition.12 The Doctrine is dated by scholars mainly to the fifth century, but some propose to date the text back to the fourth century, or at least to seek, among later additions, elements of venerable antiquity that might be historically reliable.13 This optimistic reading is also the basis of an attempt to secure a historical background for the legend of the painting of Jesus, in which some would like to see, in fact, an early witness to the presence in Edessa of what is now called the Shroud of Turin. The object described by the Doctrine, though, is a portrait (ܐܡܠ�ܨܲ [ṣalmā]) ̈ ̈ of a living Jesus, executed in color, with “choice pigments” (ܐܝܼ ܒܓ ܐܢܡܡܣ [sammānē gḇayā]): none of these characteristics match those of the burial cloth of Turin, which bears the image of a deceased person, monochromatic

ܿ 11 Doctrina Addai, pp. 4–5: ܗܠ ܐܘܗ ܪܡܐܼ ܐܢܟܗܕ ܃ܐܪܠܘܒܛ ܢܢܚ ܐܘܗ ܐܙܚܼ ܢܝܕ ܕܟ ̈ ܐܢܡܡܣܒ ܥܘܫܝܕ ܗܡܠܨ ܪܨܘ ܐܘܗ ܠܩܫܼ ܂ܐܟܠܡܕܼ ܐܘܗ ܐܪܝܨܕܿ ܕܝܒܘ ܂ܥܘܫܝ ܐܟܠܡ ܪܓܒܐ ܐܘܗ ܝܗܝܙܚ ܕܟܘ ܂ܗܪܡ ܐܟܠܡ ܪܓܒܐܠ ܗܡܥ ܐܘܗ ܝܬܝܐܘܼ ܂ܐܝܼ ܒܓ̈ ܢܡ ܕܚܒ ܂ܐܒܪܿ ܐܪܩܝܐܒ ܐܘܗ ܗܡܣܘ ܂ܐܬܒܪ ܐܬܘܕܚܒ ܐܘܗ ܗܠܒܩܿ ܘܼ ܗܿ ܐܡܠܨܠ ̈ ̈ ܗܠܝܕ ܐܢܕܦܐܕ ܐܬܒ (ed. G. Phillips, The Doctrine of Addai, the Apostle, London, Trübner & Co., 1876). Cf. H.J.W. Drijvers, “The Image of Edessa in the Syriac Tradition,” in H.L. Kess ler – G. Wolf (eds.), The Holy Face and the Paradox of Representation, cit., pp. 13–31. 12 A comparison of the two recensions in S. Brock, “Eusebius and Syriac Christianity,” in H.W. Attridge – G. Hata (eds.), Eusebius, Christianity, and Judaism, Detroit, Wayne State University Press, 1992, pp. 212–234. Cf. M. Erbetta, Gli Apocrifi del Nuovo Testamento, vol. 3: Lettere e apocalissi, Casale, Marietti, 1969, pp. 79–82. 13 I. Ramelli, “Possible Historical Traces in the Doctrina Addai,” Hugoye 9/1 (2006), pp. 51–127 (available www.bethmardutho.org/images/hugoye/volume9/hv9n1ramelli.pdf). It is ab- surd to think that Addai is Tatian the Assyrian, as suggested by M.G. Siliato, Il mistero della Sindone, Casale, Piemme, 1989, p. 217. Origins And Traditions 11 and – at least to this day – free of pigments.14 Yet precisely on the grounds of this legendary tale, Ilaria Ramelli – all discrepancies notwithstanding – reckons it possible to relate the two objects: the Shroud of Christ traveled from Je- rusalem to Edessa in the third decade of the first century. Behind the most legendary elements of the Doctrine of Addai, she says is concealed the historical core of the translation of a specific relic, which still exists.15 Instead, I believe that the absence of any similarities between these two very different relics is an insurmountable obstacle and I do not believe that it is feasible to connect the legendary Edessean painting with a burial cloth that is unknown before the fourteenth century. Even trying to retrieve an ancient tradition, from which both Eusebius and the Doctrine would have drawn – that

14 Daniel Scavone posits that “choice pigments” “may hint at the very faint dilute appearance of the image of the Turin Shroud; otherwise, ‘choice pigments’ would be an entirely gratuitous and virtually meaningless expression.” (“Edessan Sources for the Legend of the Holy Grail,” in P. Di Lazzaro [ed.], Proceedings of the International Workshop on the Scien- tific Approach to the Acheiropoietos Images, in www.acheiropoietos.info/proceedings/proceedings.php, p. 2). This argument is to be rejected, because the picture of Ananias is a colored painting, while the image of the Shroud is a monochromatic, blurry imprint. The expression “choice pigments” is not gratuitous and virtually meaningless, but means that Ananias chose the best existing colors to paint Jesus’ portrait. Whether there are traces of pigments on the Shroud is a highly controversial issue: what is certain is that the image of the man of the Shroud, as it can be seen today, is not due to a pigment but rather to a yellow-brownish discoloration of the fibers of the linen, attributed to an oxidation or degradation of the cellulose. One of the explanations provided by those who believe that the Shroud image has been colored, at least originally, is that that assumes that the sheet, lying on a bas-relief or on a real human body, has been rubbed with a pad impregnated with color (such as powdered ocher): this technique – called frottage – was initially proposed by Joe Nickell (Inquest on the Shroud of Turin, Amherst, Prometheus, 1998) and tested on a full-length figure by some Italian researchers (L. Garlaschelli, “Life-size Repro- duction of the Shroud of Turin and its Image,” The Journal of Imaging Science and Techno- logy 54/4 [2010], pp. 1–14). Over the centuries the color would have detached from the sheet, leaving only the faint residual image visible today. That image would have been produced by the action exerted on the fabric by chemicals (e.g. acids) that were contained in the initial pigment. Thus is explained the presence of the residual image, even in the absence of the pigment. The submicron sized particles of pigment (especially red ocher) found on the Shroud’s material by the microscopist Walter McCrone may support this theory. Sindonologists have rejected McCrone’s findings, or have attributed the presence of the ocher to other factors. They have not reached an agreement regarding the formation of the image on the linen, but generally they resort to a miraculous cause (for example, a radiation energy given off during the resurrection of Jesus). 15 I. Ramelli, “Dal Mandilion di Edessa alla Sindone: alcune note sulle testimonianze antiche,” Ilu. Revista de ciencias de las religiones 4 (1999), p. 191. 12 Chapter 2 very tradition that Sebastian Brock has described as a “product of tendentious propaganda”16 – Ramelli herself has insisted on the “absolutely unhistorical” nature of the story of the written correspondence between Abgar and Jesus.17 Therefore, it seems inconsistent that this scholar, after having declared the non-historicity of the legend of the correspondence, should want to attribute value to the tale of the picture painted by Ananias: if the core of the legend is anti-historical, even more ahistorical is the addition of an appendix regarding the image, the description of which has nothing to do with that of a burial shroud.

The Development of Traditions about the Image

The story of the Doctrine of Addai reappears in the sixth century in the Acts of Mar Mari.18 Still with a Syriac background, and still a reworking of the legend:

Then, what did king Abgar do? He found skilled painters and ordered them to escort his ambassadors, depict and bring back, in a picture, the face of our Lord, to rejoice with his image as if he encountered him. The painters arrived with the ambassadors of the king, but they were not able to depict the depiction of our Lord’s admirable human appearance. Therefore, when our Lord realized, through his divine understanding, the love of Abgar for him, having seen that the painters endeavored to depict his image as he was, but they failed, he took a cloth and laid it upon his face – the life-giver of the world – and it turned out as he was.19

16 S. Brock, “Eusebius and Syriac Christianity,” cit., p. 228. 17 I. Ramelli, “Possible Historical Traces,” cit., p. 70. 18 Cf. C. and F. Jullien, Les Actes de Mār Māri, Lovanii, Peeters, 2003. Sad to say, Ilaria Ramel- li’s newest introduction and Italian translation, Atti di Mar Mari, Brescia, Paideia, 2008, is a disgraceful plagiarism of the French work by Christelle and Florence Jullien, as it has been demonstrated by M. Tardieu, “Ingeniosa coqua? À propos d’un livre récent d’Ilaria Ramelli,” Apocrypha 19 (2008), pp. 292–303, and by C. Jullien, “À propos de Ilaria Ramelli (a cura di), Atti di Mar Mari,” Le Muséon 122 (2009), pp. 219–229. ܵ ܵ 19 Acta Mar Maris, 3: :ܢܘܢܐ ܕܩܦܘ ܐܡܝܟܚ ܐܖܝܨ ܐܙܚ .ܪܓܒܐ ܐܟܠܡ ܕܒܥ ܪܝܓ ܐܢܡ ܗܡܠܨܒܕ .ܢܪܡܕ ܗܦܘܨܪܦ :ܐܢܩܘܝܒ ܢܘܬܝܢܘ ܢܘܪܘܨܢܘ ܝܗܘܕܓܙܝܐܵ ܡܥ ܢܘܠܙܐܢܕ ܗܬܘܫܢܐܕ ܐܬܪܘܨܘ .ܐܟܠܡܕ ܐܕܓܙܝܐܵ ܡܥ ܐܖܝܨܵ ܢܝܕ ܘܝܛܡ .ܗܥܓܦܒܕ ܟܝܐ ܐܕܚܢ ܆ܗܬܘܗܠܐܕ ܐܬܥܕܝܒ ܢܘܗܒ ܪܚ ܕܟ ܆ܢܝܕ ܢܪܡ .ܘܚܟܫܐ ܐܠ ܢܘܪܘܨܢܕ :ܢܪܡܕ ܐܬܕܝܓܣ ܢܘܪܘܨܢܕ ܐܡܠܨ ܢܘܚܟܫܢܕ ܘܝܐܠܕ ܐܖܝܨܠܵ ܢܘܢܐ ܐܙܚܕ ܢܡ .ܗܬܘܠܕ ܪܓܒܐܕ ܗܒܘܚܒ :ܐܡܠܥܕ ܐܢܝܚܡ ܗܦܘܨܪܦܒ ܗܥܒܛܘ ܐܢܘܕܣܠ ܗܠܩܫ ܆ܘܚܟܫܐ ܐܠܘ ܝܗܘܬܝܐܕ ܟܝܐ Origins And Traditions 13

Ananias the archivist-painter, who in the Doctrine of Addai had spontaneously decided to portray the face of Jesus, has given way to an imprecise number of painters who, instead, act on direct orders of Abgar, but unlike their predecessor, are not able to make the portrait, because the model goes beyond their human capacity.20 We are thus presented with a new version of the story that will influence all the subsequent tradition: the Edessean portrait is no longer a beautiful painting, but has turned into a miraculous image not made by human hands, but made by Christ himself through the contact of the cloth with his face. It is important to dwell on a significant element: the painters were commissioned to depict the face of Jesus, and it is precisely the face, the part of his body that he himself, in order to fulfill their desire, wants to imprint upon the cloth. The dimensions of the cloth are obvious: they are those of a towel, the size of which would roughly correspond with the size of a human face or head, i.e. the size of the portrait that the painters had not been able to accomplish. One must not be deceived by the use of the word ܐܢܘܕܣ [sedonā], a Syriac version of the Greek word σινδών that the modern reader could easily associate, as a cognate, with the word “sindone,” which is Italian for “shroud”: in ancient times, this word simply indicated a fine cloth, usually linen, or anything made of such cloth, without any further specification regarding size. There- fore, there are no implicit references to a burial cloth: while in the New Testa- ment σινδών designates one of the pieces of fabric – its precise shape remains unknown – in which the body of Jesus was buried, elsewhere it generally means cloth, clothes, clothing, pieces of fabric of various kinds, uses and sizes.21

ܝܗܘܬܝܐܕ ܟܝܐ ܐܘܗܘ (ed. A. Harrak, The Acts of Mār Mārī the Apostle, Atlanta, Society of Biblical Literature, 2005). I thank Eliana Stori for the help with the Syriac texts. 20 “The craftsman fails to complete the work, which can be completed only by the intervention of divine power. It is a topos that we find throughout all Christian history, from the etiological palimpsest of the Mandylion of Edessa to the Latin substitutes of the Veronica, from the angelic velum of Augustinian Africa recorded in the Miracles of St. Stephen, to the sculpture of Nuestra Señora de los Desamparados, patron of the Valencian region ever since the fifteenth century.” (L. Canetti, Impronte di gloria. Effigie e ornamento nell’Euro pa cristiana, Rome, Carocci, 2012, p. 321). 21 The occurrences of σινδών in the Greek language between the fifth century BCE and the beginning of the fourth century CE, that I had personally checked, one by one, have disparate meanings and forms, ranging from tiny handkerchief to the sails of a ship. Cf. also G. Ghiberti, La sepoltura di Gesù, Rome, Marietti, 1982, pp. 35–38; P.A. Gramaglia, “La Sin- done di Torino: alcuni problemi storici,” cit., pp. 550–558; Id., “Ancora la Sindone di Torino,” Rivista di storia and letteratura religiosa 27 (1991), pp. 101–109. Is it not true that the use of σινδών in The New Testament is unequivocally referred to a “large body wrap” (D.C. Scavone, “A Review of Recent Scholarly Literature on the Historical 14 Chapter 2

The Siege of Edessa

The Antiochean writer Evagrius Scholasticus, in the last years of the sixth century, bears testimony to the new tradition about the acheiropoieton image. In the year 544, the miraculous icon was efficacious in protecting the Edesseans from the assault of the Persian King Chosroes:

When they arrived to utter helplessness, they took the God-wrought image, not made by the hands of men, that Christ [our] God had sent to Abgar, since the latter desired to see him.22

And thanks to the image (εἰκών), says Evagrius, the inhabitants of the city could burn and destroy the enemy’s siege machines.23 This is the final version of the legend in which the original protective function of a letter from Jesus to Abgar containing a promise of inviolability of the city was transferred onto the image, which visibly represented the face of He who had made the pledge. “The apotropaic moment of the writing, the ideological residue of the old writ-

Documents Pertaining to the Turin Shroud and the Edessa Icon,” in E. Marinelli – A. Russi [ed.], Sindone 2000. Congresso mondiale, vol. 2, San Severo, Gerni, 2002, p. 430). Therefore, it is not true that when the Mandylion is called σινδών, we have to think about an “inevitably large” piece of fabric (I. Wilson, “The Shroud and the Mandylion,” in W. Meacham [ed.], Turin Shroud – Image of Christ?, cit., p. 23; the same thing in M. Antonacci, The Res- urrection of the Shroud, New York, Evans, 2000, p. 131). It is also incorrect to claim that the term “cannot induce errors” and proves that it refers to “a sheet and not to a handkerchief or a towel” (M. Centini, I volti di Cristo, Turin, Ananke, 2010, p. 62). The same can be said regarding the term πέπλος, that Leo the Deacon uses to name the Edessean cloth (Leo Diaconus, Historia, 4,10; ed. C.B. Hase, Leonis diaconi Caloënsis historiae, Bonn, Weber, 1828): it is true that πέπλος can mean a mantle, but it is no less true that it is also used to refer to any woven cloth used as a cover, including those of small size, for instance, the veil with which the chalice is covered during the liturgy (cf. F.E. Brightman, Liturgies Eastern and Western, Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1896, p. 348, l. 24). 22 Evagrius scholasticus, Historia ecclesiastica, IV,27: ὡς δ’ οὖν ἐς πᾶσαν ἀμηχανίαν ἦλθον, φέρουσι τὴν θεότευκτον εἰκόνα ἣν ἀνθρώπων μὲν χεῖρες οὐκ εἰργάσαντο, Ἀγβάρῳ δὲ Χριστὸς ὁ θεός, ἐπεὶ αὐτὸν ἰδεῖν ἐπόθει, πέπομφε (ed. J. Bidez – L. Parmentier, The Ecclesiastical History of Evagrius, London, Methuen, 1898). 23 The story continues as follows: “Then, when they brought the all-holy image into the channel they had created and sprinkled it with water, they applied some to the pyre and the timbers. And at once the divine power made a visitation to the faith of those who had done this, and accomplished what had previously been impossible for them: for at once the timbers caught fire and, being reduced to ashes quicker than word, they imparted it to what was above as the ﬁre took over everywhere.” Translated by Michael Whitby. Origins And Traditions 15 ing, is sanctified by the ideology of the image.”24 Evagrius at this point can say that the appendix to the text of the letter, that is the written promise, is apocryphal:25 in a society ever more inclined to give importance to images rather than to words, the icon is ideally suited to replace the written promise that in the past was engraved on the gates of the city of Edessa as a defensive measure.26

Abgar’s case helps us understand a society that changes its own world- view in the passage from the overpowering value of the written word to the sacralized value of the image. If the classic civilization has been dubbed “stone civilization” – understood as epigraphic civilization – due to the tradition of entrusting the historical memory, both official and private (monimentum), to the written word, one can see how the historical path determines a cultural change that goes from the value of the written word to the iconic perception of the text, onwards to the image. In the fourth century, in a society that still expressed and understood a written culture and in which the authority of the written word was unquestionable, this passage is being prepared and slowly matures.27

Slowly but steadily, the icon, which initially constituted a secondary element in the legend, overcomes and supersedes the whole tradition of written correspondence.

24 M. Amerise, “La scrittura e l’immagine nella cultura tardoantica: il caso di Abgar di Edessa,” Orientalia Christiana Periodica 67/2 (2001), p. 443. 25 Evagrius scholasticus, Historia ecclesiastica, IV,27: “This prophecy, actually, is not included in what was written to Agbar by Christ our God, as the conscientious can grasp from the narratives of Eusebius of Pamphilus, who knew the letter verbatim; but thus it is recited and believed by the faithful.” 26 Regarding the close relationship that linked – at least initially – the image and the written promise, and about their location over the city gates, see A.M. Lidov, “Святой Лик – Святое Письмо – Святые Врата. Образ-парадигма «благословенного града» в хри стианской иеротопии,” in Иеротопия. Сравнительные исследования сакральных пространств, Moscow, Indrik, 2009, pp. 105–138; Id., “Holy Face, Holy Script, Holy Gate: Revealing the Edessa Paradigm in Christian Imagery,” in G. Wolf – C. Dufour Bozzo – A.R. Calderoni Masetti (eds.), Intorno al Sacro Volto. Genova, Bisanzio e il Mediterraneo (secoli XI-XIV), Venice, Marsilio, 2007, pp. 145–162. About the fate of Abgar’s apotropaic letter in the Middle Ages: D.C. Skemer, Binding Words. Textual Amulets in the Middle Ages, University Park, The Pennsylvania State University Press, 2006, pp. 96–115. 27 M. Amerise, “La scrittura e l’immagine,” cit., p. 445. G. Cavallo provides eloquent examples in “Testo e immagine: una frontiera ambigua,” in Testo e immagine nell’alto medioevo, Spo- leto, Centro Italiano di Studi sull’Alto Medioevo, 1994, pp. 31–64. 16 Chapter 2

Although it is not possible to establish this with absolute certainty, it is likely that Evagrius wrote this after the redaction of the Acts of Mar Mari; in any case, these two texts are the first to present the Edessean image as an acheiropoieton, that is, as an image not made by human hands. However, it is possible to establish a terminus post quem: in 550, historian Procopius of Caesarea wrote his report on the Persian Wars, which Evagrius used as a direct source for his Historia. Procopius too writes about the correspondence between Jesus and Abgar, and about the promise of impregnability of the city: he does not believe the former, and regarding the latter, he reports that it is unknown to historians, but he mentions them both. He makes no mention of the healing image, nor does he attribute Chosroes’ retreat to the miraculous image. It is not a case of justifying this silence with an alleged “skepticism” of the historian about the supernatural,28 or an alleged reliance on Eusebius, who did not know this detail: in other passages of his work, the author was shown to lack this skepticism, and it is well-known that he had at his disposal a variety of sources, some of them more recent than Eusebius.29 Had he known the Edessean image, Pro- copius would have mentioned it, as he did the correspondence between Abgar and Jesus. That he didn’t mention it “is not because he disapproved of it, but most probably because the story of its ‘finding’ was not yet known to him, writing as he was, only a few years after the event.”30 The time interval within which the painting of Ananias the painter was transformed into a powerful ἀχειροποίητος, a healing object not made by human hands, should therefore be placed between 550 (Procopius) and the end of the century (Evagrius).31 Therefore, Ernst von Dobschütz was most probably correct in stating that the established worship of the miraculous icon dates from the aftermath of Chosroes’ siege – the second half of the sixth century –

28 Something like that is also the opinion of S. Runciman, “Some Remarks on the Image of Edessa,” cit., p. 244. 29 Procopius Caesariensis, De bellis (Bellum Persicum), II,12,20–30. When talking about Apa- mea, he does not hesitate to attribute the salvation of the city to the relic of Christ’s cross (II,11,14–30); further examples in A. Cameron, “The Sceptic and the Shroud,” in Ead., Con- tinuity and Change in Sixth-Century Byzantium, London, Variorum Reprints, 1981, doc. v, p. 18, note 9. 30 A. Cameron, Procopius and the Sixth Century, Berkeley, University of California Press, 1985, p. 116. It is also useful to read A. Palmer’s “Procopius and Edessa,” Antiquité tardive 8 (2000), pp. 127–136. 31 The conclusion is not that different from what Edward Gibbon had said more or less two centuries before: “This fable was invented between the years 521 and 594, most probably after the siege of Edessa in 540.” (The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, vol. 13, Basil, Tourneisen, 1789, p. 145, note 10). Origins And Traditions 17 a period in which the first evidence of other objects of this type appear. This is the precise moment in which the news about the legendary acheiropoieta images and their copies (beginning with those of Camuliana and Memphis)32 spread throughout the Byzantine world. The anthropological, religious, political and theological reasons for this diffusion have already been investigated.33 It is likely that someone in Edessa, after the events, attributed to the image the miraculous rescue of the city. The study of the origin of the texts that insist on the power of the image, and that successive sources attribute the use of the icon against the Persians to a bishop named Eulalios, has led many scholars to believe that the origin of this belief should be ascribed to the Greek-Chalcedo- nian community – who were particularly sensitive to the issue of sacred images – rather than to the Syro-Jacobite one, which showed interest in the written letter for much longer.34 This analysis of the origins reveals the gradual metamorphosis and the contradictions of the Edessean legend, and prove, in an unquestionable manner, that it is not true that since the first century there is a reliable documented record of the presence of a miraculous image of Christ in Edessa. Even less credible is the attempt to identify this image with the Shroud of Turin.

A Later Genesis?

There are also those who, in contrast to the predominant historiographical opinion, have argued that the legendary creation of the apotropaic image occurred much later. According to Julian Chrysostomides and Han Drijvers, the “variant” of the Edessean legend that indicates the existence of an acheiropoieton image did not develop before the iconoclastic crisis: Evagrius’ passage would be one of many late interpolations (i.e. spurious insertions) due to

32 Regarding this, see J. Trilling, “The Image not Made by Hands and the Byzantine Way of Seeing,” in H. Kessler – G. Wolf (eds.), The Holy Face and the Paradox of Representation, cit., pp. 109–127. 33 Basic guidance is found in G. Lingua, “Le acheropite e i fondamenti della teoria dell’imma gine cristiana,” in A. Monaci Castagno (ed.), Sacre impronte e oggetti “non fatti da mano d’uomo,” cit., pp. 113–128. 34 E. von Dobschütz, Christusbilder, cit., pp. 113–115, 120; see also E. Kitzinger, “The Cult of Images in the Age before Iconoclasm,” Dumbarton Oaks Papers 8 (1954), p. 120. About the Edessean portrait and its growing fame to the detriment of that of Abgar’s letter, see also J.B. Segal, Edessa. The Blessed City, Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1970, pp. 71–78. 18 Chapter 2 iconodulist circles following the Second Council of Nicaea of 787.35 One must bear in mind that during the conflict between iconodulists and iconoclasts, the image of Edessa, which was said to have been created by Christ himself, was an effective exemplum of which extensive use was made in theological debates because it legitimized the veneration of icons and left no room for dispute.36 The argument of the interpolation, however, has been challenged by Michael Whitby among others.37 The Acts of Mar Mari, which like Evagrius date from the sixth century, mention the acheiropoieton image. We know that in 723, at the brink of the outbreak of the iconoclastic crisis, a church building specially designed to store the image of Christ in Edessa existed. Unfortunate- ly, it is not clear if this image was thought to be a portrait painted by man or a miraculous acheiropoieton image.38

An Older Genesis?

More numerous are proposals by authors who, on the contrary, have wanted to anticipate the birth of the legend. Steven Runciman, Ilaria Ramelli, and Mark Guscin, for example,39 have argued that even Eusebius, in the early fourth century, would have been aware of the existence of the icon, but he would not

35 J. Chrysostomides, “An Investigation Concerning the Authenticity of the Letter of the Three Patriarchs,” in J.A. Munitiz (ed.), The Letter of the Three Patriarchs to Emperor Theophilos, Camberley, Porphyrogenitus, 1997, pp. xxv-xxvii; H.J.W. Drijvers, “The Image of Edessa in the Syriac Tradition,” cit., pp. 19 and 30. This would not be the only case of a manipulated text: an iconodulist writing by George the Monk attributes all kind of anach- ronistic arguments to Germanus of Constantinople, in which there is even a mention of the soudarion of Edessa (ed. C. De Boor, Georgii monachi chronicon, Leipzig, Teubner, 1978, p. 740); the same thing happens in the so-called Epistula trium patriarcharum (J.A. Munitiz, The Letter of the Three Patriarchs, cit.). Cf. A. Cameron, “The Mandylion and Byzantine Iconoclasm,” in H.L. Kessler – G. Wolf (eds.), The Holy Face, cit., pp. 47–48. 36 About this, see A. Cameron, “The Mandylion and Byzantine Iconoclasm,” cit., pp. 33–54. 37 M. Whitby, The Ecclesiastical History of Evagrius Scholasticus, Liverpool, Liverpool Uni- versity Press, 2000, pp. 323–326; see also note 73 in p. 227; E. Brunet, “Le icone acheropite a Nicea II e nei ‘Libri Carolini’,” in A. Monaci Castagno (ed.), Sacre impronte e oggetti “non fatti da mano d’uomo” nelle religioni, cit., pp. 206–207. 38 R.W. Thomson, “An Eighth-century Melkite Colophon from Edessa,” Journal of Theological Studies 13/2 (1962), pp. 253 and 256, where there is mention of a “House of the Image of the Lord” headed by a priest bearing the dignity of hegumenos. 39 S. Runciman, “Some Remarks on the Image of Edessa,” cit., pp. 241–242; I. Ramelli, “Edessa e i Romani fra Augusto e i Severi: aspetti del regno di Abgar V e di Abgar IX,” Aevum 73/1 (1999), p. 125, note 38; M. Guscin, The Image of Edessa, Leiden, Brill, 2009, p. 143. Origins And Traditions 19 have mentioned it on purpose, because of his disapproval of the worship of images. A similar explanation was put forth four centuries ago by Agostino Calcagnino.40 This hypothesis has been rejected – rightly so, in my opinion – by Sebastian Brock and Averil Cameron; the latter author also mentions the existence of some independent, Greek papyrological evidence of the Doctrina Addai, dating from the sixth-seventh centuries, in which the image is not mentioned, as in Eusebius: the omission, then, cannot have been caused by the inclination of a single individual.41 Moreover, it must be said that Eusebius himself recorded the existence of sacred images on other occasions; why would he censor only the Edessean?42 This has to be added to the testimony of Egeria and of the comes Darius who, like Eusebius, remain silent about the presence of what would have been an important image.43 Some controversial testimonies exist from later periods: Andrew Palmer drew attention to two passages of a still unpublished Life of Daniel of Galaš, attributed to Jacob of Sarug (circa 450–520).44 The text’s author writes:

40 A. Calcagnino, Dell’imagine edessena osservazioni storiche, Genoa, Farroni, 1639, p. 147: “Eusebius was a heretic, one of those that adamantly stated that they could not represent the image of the Word’s human nature; that is why he maliciously kept quiet about this image that He himself had imprinted upon a cloth.” Calcagnino was a canonic at the cathedral of Genoa, a city which houses a copy of the image of Edessa that he, in his book, defended as authentic. 41 S. Brock, “Eusebius and Syriac Christianity,” cit., pp. 229–230, note 6; A. Cameron, “The History of the Image of Edessa,” cit., p. 82, referring to R. Peppermüller, “Griechische Papy- rusfragmente der ‘Doctrina Addai’,” in Vigiliae christianae 25 (1971), pp. 289–301. The two papyri published by Peppermüller bear testimony to a recension independent from Euse- bius. 42 It is the case of the statue of Jesus in Paneas and of the images of Christ and the apostles painted on wooden boards: Eusebius Caesariensis, Historia ecclesiastica, VII,18. 43 Ilaria Ramelli (“Dal Mandilion di Edessa alla Sindone,” cit., p. 186) believes that the fact that in the story of Egeria there is mention of “king Abgar, who before he saw the Lord (antequam videret Dominum) believed that he was in truth the Son of God” amounts to an “indirect mention” of the image of Christ that the king would have seen after his conversion (Peregrinatio, 19,6). It seems to me that the deduction is a bit forced. According to sindonologist Maria Grazia Siliato – but, alas, not according to the sources – in 388 Egeria would have seen, in Edessa, “even the gate in the city walls through which the missing cloth had entered the city”: the cloth would be – it goes without saying – that of the Shroud (Sindone: mistero dell’impronta di duemila anni fa, Casale, Piemme, 1997, p. 167). 44 Andrew Palmer plans to edit this work (“The Logos of the Mandylion,” cit., p. 186, note 218). Summary of the work in F. Nau, “Hagiographie syriaque,” Revue de l’Orient chrétien 15 (1910), pp. 60–62, based on ms. 235 of the National Library of Paris. Mario Moroni claims that this Parisian manuscript – of which he provides the photograph of a detail (f. 165a, 20 Chapter 2

And then, after this, they set out to journey towards the city of Edessa, most of all, then, to be blessed by the image of Christ which is there and to visit the solitaries who are in the mountain of Edessa […]. They went and were blessed by the image of Christ. They also paid a visit to the solitaries of the mount of the poor, and gave them money.45

Han Drijvers believes that this is clearly a “later interpolation.”46 This would be confirmed because elsewhere, the same Jacob of Sarug, when speaking about Edessa and the story of Abgar, never mentions the image. Andrew Palmer, instead, deems the text credible and states that Drijvers’ argument is “circular.” In his opinion, the ease with which the author speaks suggests that readers had a perfect knowledge of the existence of an image of Christ in Edessa, which is why there was no need to dwell on its features. But what features would these be? Since in the Life of Daniel there is mention of a generic image of Christ without any specifics, it is not possible to know whether the author (or the interpolator) had in mind the normal painting of Ananias or the miraculous acheiropoieton. In addition, although the visit of Daniel is ascribed to around the year 410, here we are dealing with a text written almost a century afterwards. One cannot assume that Jacob of Sarug was able to report with accuracy anything that happened forty years before his birth. Even if the authenticity of this passage was confirmed, a substantial modification of what is already known would not follow automatically: in the second half of the fifth century it was well known that an image of Christ was kept in Edessa. A text that is sometimes invoked as the first evidence of the existence of a proper acheiropoieton image in Edessa is an acrostic Syriac hymn, discovered in 1925, dedicated to the reconstruction of the cathedral of the city that took place a few years after the flood of 525 (that is, twenty years before the siege of

col. 2) – would date from the fifth century (“L’icona di Cristo nelle monete bizantine,” in L. Coppini – F. Cavazzuti [eds.], Le icone di Cristo e la Sindone, Cinisello Balsamo, San Paolo, 2000, p. 126); in reality, the manuscript dates from the thirteenth century (cf. Cata- logues des manuscrits syriaques et sabéens [mandaïtes] de la Bibliothèque Nationale, Paris, Imprimerie nationale, 1874, p. 187). 45 Manuscript 8.273 of the Church of the Forty Martyrs in Mardin, written by Hanna Dola- ܲ bani, p. 290, ll. 7–10, and p. 292, ll. 6–8: ܐܬܢܝܕܡ ܠܒܩܘܠ ܢܘܕܪܢܕ ܘܝܪܼ ܫ� ܢܝܠܗ ܪܬܒ ܢܝܕܝܗܘ ܲ ܿ .ܝܗܪܘܐܕ ܐܪܘܛܒܕ ܐܝܕ̈ ܝܚܼ ܝܼ ܢܘܪܥܣܢܕܘܼ .ܢܡܬܕ ܐܚܝܫܡܕܼ ܐܡܠ� ܨܲ ܢܡ ܢܘܟܪܒܬܢܕ� ܢܝܕ ܢܘܠܠܐܡ .ܝܗܪܘܐ ܲ ̈ ܲ ܘܓܠܦܘ� .ܐܢܟܣܡܕ ܐܪܘܛܒܕ ܐܝܕ̈ ܝܚܼ ܝܼ ܘܘܗ ܘܪܥܣܼ ܦܐܘ .ܐܚܝܫܡܕ ܐܡܠ� ܨܲ ܢܡܼ ܘܟܪܒܬܐܘ� ܢܝܕ ܘܠܙܐܼ ]…[ ܐܦܣܟ ܢܘܗܠ This text was transcribed from photographs of the manuscript that Andrew Palmer has kindly put at my disposal; I thank also Alessandro Mengozzi for the transcription and the translation of the text. 46 H.J.W. Drijvers, “The Image of Edessa in the Syriac Tradition,” cit., p. 18. Origins And Traditions 21

Chosroes). The hymn was composed probably by mid-century, so even if the hymn had the meaning that is assigned to it, it would not change the terminus post quem of 550; the date after which the idea of the existence of a acheiropoieton image in Edessa was consolidated. The ninth verse of the hymn, which describes the church as a microcosmos, a kind of heavenly sanctuary, says:

Its marble imprinted with an image made without hands, and its walls fittingly overlaid; and by its brightness, polished and white, light gathers in it like the sun.47

André Grabar, André-Marie Dubarle, Andrew Palmer, and Mark Guscin read in this verse a veiled or even explicit reference to Edessa’s acheiropoieton,48 while Kathleen E. McVey, Han Drijvers, Michael Whitby, and Irma Karaulashvili tend to doubt it or rule it out altogether.49 A close reading of the text does not allow us to conclude that this generic reference to an “image made without hands,” is

̈ ̈ ̈ 47 Hymnus edessenus, 9: ܝܗܘܣܐ ܢܡܝܖܩܘ ܇ܢܝܕܝܐܒ ܐܠܕ ܐܬܪܘܨܒ ܗܫܝܫ ܥܝܒܛ ܿ ܐܫܡܫ ܟܝܐ ܐܪܗܘܢ ܗܘܓܒ ܐܒܩ ܇ܪܘܚܡܘ ܠܝܩܣ ܗܪܝܪܗܙ ܢܡܘ .ܬܝܐܡܚܠܡ Trans- lated by Alessandro Mengozzi. Edition and comments: H. Goussen, “Über eine ‘Sugitha’ auf die Kathedrale von Edessa,” Le Muséon 38 (1925), pp. 117–136; A. Dupont-Sommer, “Une hymne syriaque sur la cathédrale d’Édesse,” Cahiers archéologiques 2 (1947), pp. 29–39; K.E. McVey, “The Domed Church as Microcosm,” Dumbarton Oaks Papers 37 (1983), pp. 91–121; A. Palmer, “The Inauguration Anthem of Hagia Sophia in Edessa,” Byzantine and Modern Greek Studies 12 (1988), pp. 117–167; K.E. McVey, “The Sogitha on the Church of Edessa in the Context of Other Early Greek and Syriac Hymns for the Consecra- tion of Church Buildings,” Aram 5 (1993), pp. 329–370. 48 A. Grabar, “Le témoignage d’une hymne syriaque sur l’architecture de la Cathédrale d’Édesse,” Cahiers archéologiques 2 (1947), pp. 51–52; A.M. Dubarle, Historie ancienne du Linceul de Turin jusqu’au XIIIe siècle, Paris, OEIL, 1985, pp. 99–100; A. Palmer, “The Inaugu- ration,” cit., pp. 128–129; M. Guscin, The Image of Edessa, cit., pp. 169–170. Barbara Frale goes as far as to claim that “a hymn was composed that celebrated the splendor of that singular image” which is totally out of line. It is equally inadequate to state, as does Emanuela Marinelli, that the Syriac hymn “considers the existence of the miraculous image of Christ already known and acquired,” because there is no mention whatsoever of any image of Christ in it (B. Frale, La sindone e il ritratto di Cristo, Vatican City, Libreria Editrice Vaticana, 2010, p. 86; E. Marinelli, La Sindone. Testimone di una presenza, cit., p. 35). 49 K.E. McVey, “The Domed Church,” cit., pp. 100–101; Ead., “The Sogitha,” cit., p. 331; H.J.W. Drijvers, “The Image of Edessa,” cit., pp. 19–21; M. Whitby, The Ecclesiastical History of Evagrius Scholasticus, Liverpool, Liverpool University Press, 2000, p. 325; I. Karaulash- vili, “The Date of the Epistula Abgari,” Apocrypha 13 (2002), pp. 102–104. 22 Chapter 2 a reference to the acheiropoieton image of the legend. In fact, the Scriptures provide sufficient parallels to justify the use of such language in a context that intended to draw a comparison between the Cathedral of Edessa and a heavenly sanctuary. The issue of objects not made by human hands is entirely neo- testamentary, and reminiscent of the new Temple that Jesus promised to build, of the new circumcision and of the heavenly abode; the exact opposite of the idea of objects or material actions.50 Nevertheless, it is mainly the context, in my opinion, that prevents us from relating this text to the Edessean acheiropoieton: here we are talking about marble, not paintings or icons. How can the theme of beauty and splendor of a building’s marble be reconciled with a mention of a painting not made by human hands? The explanation resides in the marble veins, which form wonder- ful alternations of colors on the walls, impossible for contemporary viewers to explain and not made by human hands. The hymn is dedicated to the beauty of the marble of the walls and it has nothing to do with an acheiropoieton image of Christ. Instead, it reveals the extent to which the Edessean environment was sensitive to the idea of objects “not made by human hands.” It was the ideal place for the legend of Abgar – which referred to a painting – to turn into a story about the miraculous origin of an acheiropoieton image.

Silence in Syria and Traditions in Armenia

While investigating the birth of the legend, not just the recorded testimony should be taken into account, but also the silence of the authors of Syriac language.51 Most of the oldest Syriac literature and the first testimonies referring to the city of Edessa do not make any mention of the legend of Abgar. More- over, when the topic is first dealt with, reference is made to the letters of Abgar and Jesus, but not to the image. In 503, Jacob bishop of Sarug, in a letter to the Edesseans makes several references to the promise made by Jesus to Abgar regarding the inviolability of the city, but there is no mention of images or icons.52

50 Mark 14,58: “I will destroy this temple made with hands, and in three days I will build another made without hands”; 2 Cor 5,1: “If the earthly tent which is our house is torn down, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands”; Col 2,11: “In Him you were also circumcised with a circumcision made without hands”; Heb 9,11: “The greater and more perfect tabernacle, not made with hands.” 51 Regarding the value of these silences, see P.A. Gramaglia, “La Sindone di Torino: alcuni problemi storici,” cit., pp. 525–531; H.J.W. Drijvers, “The Image of Edessa,” cit., pp. 13–31. 52 Ed. G. Olinder, Iacobi Sarugensis epistulae, Paris 1937 (CSCO 110), pp. 129–134. Translation of the significant excerpts in J.P.P. Martin, Les origines de l’Église d’Édesse et des Églises Origins And Traditions 23

The same applies to the probably-Edessean author, a Jacobite too, of the so- called Chronicle of Pseudo-Joshua the Stylite, written towards the end of the second decade of the sixth century: when he recalls the resistance of the Edesseans against the Persians in the war of 502–506, he refers to Jesus’ promise, but nothing else.53 The same goes for the very thorough Edessenian Chronicle, which instead describes all the important relics of the city and the siege of Chosroes in 544.54 The famous Cave of Treasures – of which a recension has reached us that does not seem to go back earlier than the sixth century, but is based on the earliest sources, perhaps datable to the fourth or third centuries – relates several legends of Syrian origin and makes mention of some relationship between Abgar and Christ, but does not include anything about the image.55 Sometimes, the silence of the sources extends past the sixth century: there is nothing in the Nestorian “Guidi” Chronicle of 670–680,56 only references to the letter and the promise of inviolability of the city in the Chronicle of Zuqnīn (late eighth century),57 and nothing in the Jacobite Chronicle of 819.58 Similarly, the Nestorian Chronicon anonymum ad a. D. 846 pertinens cites Ab- gar, but not the image.59 These silences would seem to support the hypothesis of a legend born in an Edessean circle leaning towards the Greek-Chalcedo- nian side. The Edessean legend seems to have spread from Syria, but not to

syriennes, Paris, Maisonneuve, 1889, pp. 112–115, and in M. Illert, Die Abgarlegende, cit., pp. 206–208. 53 Ed. within I.B. Chabot, Chronicon anonymum pseudo-Dionysianum I, Parisiis, and Typog- rapheo Reipublicae, 1927 (CSCO 91), pp. 240, 284, 288. Translation in F.R. Trombley – J.W. Watt, The Chronicle of Pseudo-Joshua the Stylite, Liverpool, Liverpool University Press, 2000, pp. 6, 71, 78, and in M. Illert, Die Abgarlegende, cit., pp. 212–215. 54 Ed. I. Guidi, Chronica minora, Paris, e Typographeo Reipublicae, 1903 (CSCO 1–2), pp. 1–13 (text) and 3–11 (translation). 55 Ed. and translation A. Su-Min Ri, La caverne des trésors, Leuven, Peeters, 1987 (CSCO 486– 487); the reference to Abgar is in §53,26–27. English translation in E.A. Wallis Budge, The Book of the Cave of Treasures, London, Religious Tract Society, 1927. Cf. P.A. Gramaglia, “La Sindone di Torino: alcuni problemi storici,” cit., pp. 525–527. 56 Ed. I. Guidi, Chronica minora, cit. (CSCO 1–2), pp. 15–38 (text) and 15–32 (translation). 57 Ed. I.B. Chabot, Chronicon anonymum pseudo-Dionysianum I, Paris, e Typographeo Reipu- blicae, 1927, and Leuven, Peeters, 1949 (CSCO 91 and 121), pp. 95, 240, 284, 288–290 (text); 73, 178, 209, 212–213 (translation). 58 Ed. A. Barsaum – I.B. Chabot, Chronicon ad a. C. 1234 pertinens, Paris, e Typographeo Reipublicae, 1920, and Leuven, ex Officina Orientali et Scientifica, 1937 (CSCO 81 and 109), pp. 1–22 (text) and 1–16 (translation). 59 Ed. E.W. Brooks – I.B. Chabot, Chronica minora, Paris, e Typographeo Reipublicae, 1904 (CSCO 3 and 4), pp. 157–238 (text) and 121–180 (translation). 24 Chapter 2 have undergone the transformations attested to by the sources we have examined. In Armenia, an environment characterized by the same kind of monophysite Christology, we have the testimony of Moses of Chorene. He is supposed to have been active towards the end of the fifth century, but the final version of his work, according to the modern scholars, dates from the eighth or ninth centuries.60 He relates the story of Ananias and Abgar in a form similar to that of the Doctrina Addai (of which an accurate Armenian translation existed):61

Anan, Abgar’s courier, brought this letter, along which [he brought] also the portrait of the likeness of the Savior, that to this day remains in the city of the Edesseans.62

The compound term կենդանագրութիւն [kendanagrowtʻiwn] corresponds exactly to the etymology of the Greek word ζωγραφία (“live-portrait” from ζωός and γράφω): in this way the author indicates a non-supernatural drawing or a painting that depicts a պատկեր [patker] that is, an “image,” “likeness,” “resemblance,” but also “face” of the living Christ.63 Ilaria Ramelli stresses the im

60 See status quaestiones in R.W. Thomson, Moses of Khoren. History of the Armenians, Har- vard, Harvard University Press, 1978, pp. 1–61; G. Traina, Il complesso di Trimalcione. Movsēs Xorenac‘i e le origini del pensiero storico armeno, Venice, Dipartimento di studi Eurasiatici, 1991; A. Topchyan, The Problem of the Greek Sources of Movsēs Xorenac‘i’s “His- tory of Armenia,” Leuven, Peeters, 2006. On this passage also A. Lombatti, “L’immagine di Edessa e le sue fonti,” in E. Marinelli – A. Russi (eds.), Sindone 2000. Congresso mondiale, vol. 2, San Severo, Gerni, 2002, pp. 389–406. 61 French translation of the passage on Abgar in Laboubnia, Lettre d’Abgar ou Histoire de la conversion des Édesséens, Venice, Imprimerie mekhitariste de S. Lazare, 1868, p. 14. 62 Movsēs Xorenacʻi, Hayocʻ patmowtʻiwn (Հայոց պատմութիւն – History of the Armenians), II,32: Զայս թուղթ եբեր Անան սուրհանդակ Աբգարու, ընդ որում եւ զկենդ անագրութիւն փրկչական պատկերին, որ կայ յԵդեսացւոց քաղաքին մինչեւ ցայսօր ժամանակի (ed. M. Abełean – S. Yarowtʻiwnean, Tbilisi, Aragatip Mnacʻakan Martiro seancʻi, 1913). Translation by Anna Sirinian. See the English version of the complete work in R.W. Thomson, Moses of Khoren, cit. Still useful is A. Carrière, “La Légende d’Abgar dans l’Histoire d’Arménie de Moïse de Khoren,” in Centenaire de l’École des langues orien- tales vivantes, Paris, Imprimerie Nationale, 1895, pp. 357–414. 63 According to Anna Sirinian, the most specific Armenian word to indicate the face is դէմ(ք) [dēm(kʻ)]. This allows for a confirmation of Giuseppe Cappelletti’s statement: “The Chorenese does not say anything about the unlikely particularities that the stories about this image say […]. Just this word, ‘live-portrait’ […] denies the Greek’s ascetic narration […] of the origins of this image that they call ‘the holy handkerchief’“ (Mosè Core nese, storico armeno del quinto secolo, Venice, Antonelli, 1841, p. 116, note 1). Origins And Traditions 25 portance of Moses of Chorene as a re-user of Bardaisan’s ancient information (circa 154–222), which would have been one of his sources on Abgar.64 Since Ramelli herself excludes that the apocryphal correspondence between Jesus and Abgar was part of the work of Bardaisan, this is all the more reason to believe that there could not be any mention of the accompanying image in this ancient source. An Armenian apology of the cult of images, dating from the beginnings of the seventh century, also contains references to an image that Abgar had commissioned.65 And again, centuries later, the Armenian historian Stephen of Tarōn († 1015) still bears witness to this archaic tradition that does not reveal any acheiropoieta images, but just a painting:

The Savior, moreover, orders Apostle Thomas to write the answer to him [i.e. to Abgar]. And Anan, Abgar’s courier, brought this letter, along which [he brought] also the portrait of the likeness of the Savior, that remained in the city of Urha of the Edesseans until the days of Nikephoros emperor of the Greeks, that had it taken to Constantinople by the metropolitan Abraham.66

The description of the image is clearly compatible and depends – also in regard to its wording – on that of Moses of Chorene. There is the addition, though, of the inaccurate mention of Nikephoros: he was responsible for the translation to Byzantium of another relic, the Keramion (which I will discuss below), a terracotta copy of the Edessean cloth.

64 I. Ramelli, “Bardesane e la sua scuola, l’Apologia siriaca ascritta a Melitone e la Doctrina Addai,” Aevum 83/1 (2009), pp. 153–159. 65 S. Der Nersessian, “Une apologie des images du septième siècle,” Byzantion 17 (1944–1945), p. 60. 66 Stepʻanos Tarōnecʻi Asołik, Tiezerakan patmowtʻiwn (Տիեզերական պատմութիւն – Uni- versal History), I,5: Որում եւ պատասխանի հրամայէ Փրկիչն գրել Թովմայի Առաքելոյն։ Եւ եբեր զայս թուղթ Անան սուրհանդակ Աբգարու‚ ընդ որում եւ զկենդանագրութիւն փրկչական պատկերին‚ որ կայր յԵդեսացւոց Ուրհայ քաղաքին մինչեւ յաւուրս Նիկիֆօռայ Յունաց արքայի‚ զոր նա ի ձեռն Աբրահամու մետրապօ լտի տարաւ ի Կոստանդնուպօլիս (ed. S. Malxasean, S. Peterburg, I Tparani I.N. Skoroxo dovi, 18852). Translation by Anna Sirinian. Versions of this work: E. Dulaurier, Histoire universelle par Étienne Açogh‘ig de Daron, Paris, Leroux, 1883–1917; H. Gelzer – A. Burck- hardt, Des Stephanos von Taron armenische Geschichte, Leipzig, Teubner, 1907. A later translation that accepts the miraculous version of the legend in B. Outtier, “Une forme enrichie de la Légende d’Abgar en arménien,” in V. Calzolari-Bouvier et alii (eds.), Apocry- phes arméniens: transmission – traduction – création – iconographie, Lausanne, Éditions du Zèbre, 1999, pp. 129–145. 26 Chapter 2

To summarize the arguments thus far: originally, the Edessean legend concerned an epistolary correspondence between Jesus and King Abgar. The story of the image was created as an appendix to that legend, but it gradually superseded it. There are no records of the existence of an image of Christ in Edessa before the fifth century. The oldest source that mentions it refers to a hand- made image, painted with colors (Doctrine of Addai). The first news of an acheiropoieton dates to the sixth century (Acts of Mar Mari and Evagrius). It is more likely that the appearance of this acheiropoieton took place after the siege of Chosroes in 544, not before. There are traditions that, even after the sixth century, ignore the existence of any kind of Edessean image, or know it only as a painting and ignore the transformation into an acheiropoieton, which took place elsewhere.

The Iconoclastic Era

As might be expected, during the controversy over the legitimacy of image worship, the Edessean tradition played a significant role. The champion of the iconodulist fight, John Damascene, includes two references to the legend of Abgar in two works from the years 728–731:67

A tale is also told that for Abgar, who reigned over the city of the Edesse- ans, who had sent a painter to portray an image of the Lord – but the painter failed to do so due to the shining brightness of his face – the Lord himself laid a cloth upon his own, life-giving face, so as to imprint his image on the cloth, thus to send it to the longing Abgar.68

A narrative has come down to us from farther back that Abgar, master of Edessa, burning with godly love by virtue of the fame of the Lord, sent ambassadors requesting His visit; should He refuse to do so, he commanded a painter to model His likeness. When the all-knowing and all-

67 Some scholars, however, consider them to be a later interpolation: J. Chrysostomides, “An Investigation Concerning the Authenticity of the Letter of the Three Patriarchs,” cit., pp. xxviii-xxxii; A. Lombatti, “L’immagine di Edessa e le sue fonti,” cit., p. 400. 68 Ioannes Damascenus, Expositio fidei, 89: φέρεται δὲ καί τις ἱστορία, ὡς ὁ κύριος τῷ Αὐγάρῳ τῆς Ἐδεσσηνῶν πόλεως βασιλεύοντι ζωγράφον ἀποστείλαντι τὴν τοῦ κυρίου ὁμοιογραφῆσαι εἰκόνα μὴ δυνηθέντος τοῦ ζωγράφου διὰ τὴν ἀποστίλβουσαν τοῦ προσώπου λαμπρότητα αὐτὸς ἱμάτιον τῷ οἰκείῳ καὶ ζωοποιῷ προσώπῳ ἐπιθεὶς ἐναπομάξασθαι τῷ ἱματίῳ τὸ ἑαυτοῦ ἀπεικόνισμα καὶ οὕτως ἀποστεῖλαι ποθοῦντι τῷ Αὐγάρῳ (ed. B. Kotter, Die Schriften des Johannes von Damaskos, vol. 2, Berlin, De Gruyter, 1973). Origins And Traditions 27

powerful came to know this, took a rag and, having drawn it near his face, he imprinted in it his features, which have been preserved to this day.69

Regarding these stories, John Damascene – or whoever did it on his behalf – provides more precise information about the image: in the first case an ἱμάτιον is mentioned, which can be either a “garment,” a “mantle,” or more generally a “cloth.” Further specification is provided by the word ῥάκος, that is, “rag,” “patch,” or “piece of cloth.” The cloth-mantle in question had to be large enough to contain the glorious face (πρόσωπον) of Christ; unlike the ἱμάτιον, the ῥάκος suggests a type of cloth of a poor quality. A few years later, a treatise (the Νουθεσία γέροντος) attributed to George of Cyprus, iconoclastic writer, tells a similar story in which there is mention of ambassadors of King Abgar, in the plural, as in the Acts of Mar Mari:

All their efforts notwithstanding, they were not able to portray His holy form. Seeing their faith, Christ our savior took a cloth and with his own hands put it on his undefiled face, and without matter or colors his undefiled image came to be.70

Andrew of Crete (c. 660–740), who lived during the first phase of the iconoclastic controversy, wrote a treatise On the veneration of the holy images in which he makes a brief reference to the

venerable image of our Lord Jesus Christ on a rag sent to Abgar the toparch, which is an imprint of his bodily features, and in nothing falls short of a painting made with colors.71

69 Ioannes Damascenus, Orationes de imaginibus tres, I,33: λόγος ἄνωθεν εἰς ἡμᾶς παραδεδο μένος κάτεισιν, Αὔγαρον, τὸν Ἐδέσσης ἄνακτα, φήμῃ τῇ τοῦ κυρίου πρὸς θεῖον ἐκπυρσευθέντα ἔρωτα ἀπεσταλκέναι πρέσβεις τὴν αὐτοῦ ἐπίσκεψιν ἐξαιτοῦντας. Εἰ δὲ ἀρνηθείη τοῦτο δράσειν, τὸ τούτου κελεύει ὁμοίωμα ζωγράφῳ ἐκμάξασθαι· ὃ γνόντα τὸν πάντα εἰδότα καὶ πάντα δυνάμενον τὸ ῥάκος εἰληφέναι καὶ τῷ προσώπῳ προσενεγκάμενον ἐν τούτῳ τὸν οἰκεῖον ἐναπομάξασθαι χαρακτῆρα, ὃ καὶ μέχρι τοῦ νῦν σῴζεται (ed. B. Kotter, Die Schriften des Johannes von Damaskos, vol. 3, Berlin, De Gruyter, 1975). 70 Ps. Georgius Cypriensis, Admonitio senis: πολλὰ κοπιάσαντες, οὐκ ἴσχυον τὴν ἁγίαν αὐτοῦ ἐξεικονίσαι μορφήν. Ἰδὼν δὲ τὴν πίστιν αὐτῶν Χριστός, ὁ σωτὴρ ἡμῶν, καὶ ἐπιλαβόμενος σινδόνι καὶ ταῖς οἰκείαις χερσὶν ἐπιθεὶς ἐν τῷ ἀχράντῳ αὐτοῦ προσώπῳ, καὶ ἄνευ ὕλης καὶ χρωμάτων ἐγένετο ἡ ἄχραντος αὐτοῦ εἰκών (ed. B.M. Melioranskij, Георгий Кипрянин и Иоанн Иерусалимлянин, два малоизвестных борца за православие в VIII веке, Saint Peters- burg, Skorokhodova, 1901; quoted in M. Guscin, The Image of Edessa, cit., pp. 153–154). 71 Andreas Cretensis, De sanctarum imaginum veneratione, 1: […] τὴν Αὐγάρῳ τῷ τοπάρχῳ πεμφθεῖσαν ἐν ῥάκει σεβασμίαν εἰκόνα τοῦ κυρίου ἡμῶν Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ, ἐκμαγεῖον οὖσαν τοῦ 28 Chapter 2

Barbara Frale attributes to Andrew of Crete the “description of an image that contains not only the imprint of the face of Jesus, but that of the whole body, left without the use of colors.”72 In reality, Andrew of Crete uses a generic expression that in no way refers to “the whole body.” Moreover, by stating that the image “in nothing falls short of a painting made with colors” he is not saying what Frale wants him to say.

σωματικοῦ αὐτοῦ χαρακτῆρος, καὶ μηδὲν ἀποδέουσαν τῆς ἐκ τῶν χρωμάτων γραφῆς (ed. J.P. Migne, Patrologia Graeca, vol. 97, col. 1301d). 72 B. Frale, La sindone e il ritratto di Cristo, cit., p. 96. Shifting Perspectives? 29

Chapter 3 Shifting Perspectives?

Acts of Thaddaeus

A Greek recension of the Edessean legend adds several details to the story of the letter sent by Abgar to Jesus:1 known as the Acts of Thaddaeus, it is dated between 609 and 944 (Andrew Palmer proposes the years 629–630).2 The text

1 I will not dwell on the examination of the Epistula Abgari, a version of the Edessean story recorded in manuscripts of the twelfth century (Codex Vindobonensis bybl. Caesar. theol. gr. 315; Codex Batopedianus 704), since it does not add any relevant detail to the issue at hand. This version is deemed to be a late reelaboration. Dobschütz reckons it to be a text drawn from the Syriac version in 1032 on orders of emperor Romanos III Argyros (“Der Briefwechsel zwischen Abgar und Jesus,” Zeitschrift für wissenschaftliche Theologie 43 [1900], p. 463); according to Alain Desreumaux, it corresponds to a period in which it was important to reinvigorate the legend of the miraculous letter of Christ, a talisman against any aggression from the enemy: the thought reminds of the deed of the Byzantine general George Maniakes, who in 1031 re- conquered Edessa from the Arabs (Histoire du roi Abgar et de Jésus, cit., pp. 145–146); Irma Karaulashvili proposed the existence of an older recension, dating from the sixth century (“The Date of the Epistula Abgari,” cit., pp. 85–111). The text can be found in R.A. Lipsius – M. Bonnet, Acta Apostolorum apocrypha, vol. 1, Leipzig, Mendelssohn, 1903, pp. 279–283, and – with the addition of a broad critical apparatus – in E. von Dobschütz, “Der Briefwechsel zwischen Abgar und Jesus,” cit., pp. 438–443; translation in M. Erbetta, Gli Apocrifi del Nuovo Testamento, vol. 3: Lettere e apocalissi, Casale, Marietti, 1969, pp. 83–84. According to C. Walter, “The Abgar Cycle at Mateič,” in B. Borkopp et alii (eds.), Studien zur byzantinischen Kunst geschichte. Festschrift für Horst Hallensleben, Amsterdam, Hakkert, 1995, p. 224, here we have the earlier use of the word σινδών in the Abgar legend. 2 A. Palmer, “Les Actes de Thaddée,” Apocrypha 13 (2002), pp. 63–84. Against this hypothesis see P.A. Gramaglia, “I cimeli cristiani di Edessa,” cit., p. 49. Ernst von Dobschütz thought it possible for the Acts to date from shortly after 544, because he believed that they were an elaboration of the Doctrina Addai carried out after the siege of the city (Christusbilder, cit., p. 120), but this is no longer sustainable. For an introduction and English translation of the text, see A.N. Palmer, “The Logos of the Mandylion,” cit. Barbara Frale systematically confuses these Acts (in Greek) with the Doctrine of Addai (in Syriac) and ascribes to the latter phrases and expressions taken from the former (La sindone e il ritratto di Cristo, cit., pp. 79–81, 95, 98, 112). Andrea Tornielli follows in her steps and claims that “already in the Doctrine of Addai the Mandylion was defined with the rather unusual adjective tetrádiplon”; which is not true and in any case impossible, because tetrádiplon is a Greek word, while the Doctrine is written in Syriac (Sindone. Inchiesta sul mistero, Milano, Gribaudi, 2010, p. 49). Anna Benvenuti seems to believe that the Acts and the Doctrine are the same thing (Il mistero della Sindone, Florence, Giunti, 1998, p. 41).

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2014 | doi 10.1163/9789004278523_004 30 Chapter 3 is reported in a manuscript of the tenth century (Parisinus graecus 548) which in its turn derives from an archetype of the ninth century. The part devoted to the legend of Abgar’s image is clear and fairly faithful to the tradition, but supporters of the sindonological hypothesis, on the grounds of alternative meanings of some Greek terms, imagine a change in perspective: the Acts of Thaddaeus, they say, describe the image of Edessa as a portrait of the whole body of Jesus, not only of his face. This is my translation of the passage; see between brackets the translations suggested by the sindonologists:

Abgar ordered Ananias to accurately observe the Christ, what was his appearance, his age [or: his height], his hair and, in a word, everything. Then Ananias, having gone and given the letter, was carefully gazing at Christ, but was not able to grasp him. But as He who knows the heart noticed, He asked to wash himself. He was given a tetrádiplon and, having washed himself, He wiped [or: took an impression of] His face [or: aspect]. Having His image remained imprinted on the cloth, He gave it to Ananias […]. Abgar, having received Ananias, cast himself down and worshipped the image […], was cured of his disease.3

According to some sindonologists, this story shows that Jesus would have imprinted on the cloth the whole image of his body, thus fulfilling the desire of King Abgar.4 This statement, in my opinion, is based on far-fetched assumptions. Let us put aside for a moment the question of the tetrádiplon. Some sindonologists insist that the expression ὄψις (or πρόσοψις), normally translated as

3 Acta Thaddaei, 2–4: παραγγείλας τῷ Ἀνανίᾳ ὁ Ἄβγαρος ἱστορῆσαι τὸν Χριστὸν ἀκριβῶς, ποίας εἰδέας ἐστίν, τήν τε ἡλικίαν καὶ τρίχα καὶ ἁπλῶς πάντα. Ὁ δὲ Ἀνανίας ἀπελθὼν καὶ δοὺς τὴν ἐπιστολὴν ἦν ἐπιμελῶς ἀτενίζων τῷ Χριστῷ, καὶ οὐκ ἠδύνατο καταλαβέσθαι αὐτόν. Ὁ δὲ ὡς καρδιογνώστης γνοὺς ᾔτησε νίψασθαι· καὶ ἐπεδόθη αὐτῷ τετράδιπλον· καὶ νιψάμενος ἀπεμάξατο τὴν ὄψιν αὐτοῦ. Ἐντυπωθείσης δὲ τῆς εἰκόνος αὐτοῦ ἐν τῇ σινδόνι ἐπέδωκεν τῷ Ἀνανίᾳ […]. Ὁ δὲ δεξάμενος τὸν Ἀνανίαν καὶ πεσὼν καὶ προσκυνήσας τὴν εἰκόνα […] ὁ Ἄβγαρος ἰάθη ἀπὸ τῆς νόσου αὐτοῦ (ed. R.A. Lipsius – M. Bonnet, Acta Apostolorum apocrypha, cit., p. 274; olim C. Tischendorf, Acta Apostolorum apocrypha, Leipzig, Avenarius et Mendelssohn, 1851, p. 262. New edition, along different lines, in A.N. Palmer, “The Logos of the Mandylion,” cit., pp. 171–175). 4 For example, K. Dietz, “Some Hypotheses Concerning the Early History of the Turin Shroud,” Sindon n.s. 16 (2001), p. 22: “An open-minded reading of this narrative leaves little doubt, considering its context, that he ‘who knows the ways of the heart’ […] has only then fulfilled Ananias’ task and Abgar’s desire, when the ever-changing ópsis, the fluctuating, strongly su- pernal theoría, the theía morphé, and the prósopsis in the sindón have actually shown Christ’s entire constitution, his stature, his hair, and virtually all parts of his body.” Shifting Perspectives? 31

“face,” has another meaning: the more generic “aspect.”5 But this does not necessarily mean that the usual translation – which seems more sensible and is clearly used in that sense when making reference to the Edessean image elsewhere – is to be rejected.6 In the middle of the crowd, Jesus asks for water, washes his face and dries it; it is difficult to believe that he took a bath (in what source of water?) and dried his whole body. Moreover, even if one can imagine that the formation of the impression of the face on the fabric may have occurred due to the simple touch of a towel held in the hands and laid upon the face, the creation of an impression of the whole body would lead us to think of a much less plausible operation: Jesus would have had to have bathed his entire body, then laid down on the fabric after it was spread on the ground. It seems most unlikely, that the compiler of the Acts wanted to tell his readers about an imprinting process that took place by mere contact with a long cloth: one can cleanse one’s own face by pressing a cloth against it, but this will not do for the whole body; the inevitable chafing and rubbing of cloth against the skin would not allow for the body moisture to be transferred to the cloth in a manner consistent with the surface of the limbs with which it makes contact. We are dealing with a legendary text, of course, but this does not mean that it is telling an entirely improbable story. That is why “face” seems more appropriate than “aspect,” and not only from the etymological point of view. Surely, the compiler wanted to play on the am- biguity of the verb ἀπομάσσω, “wipe,” but also “take an impression.” Even if ὄψις were to be understood in a broader sense, this still would not allow us to conclude that the word necessarily indicates the entire body: the appearance of the face remains an issue. Moreover, the list of Jesus’ body parts that Ananias was asked to witness refers quite clearly to the latter’s face: “appearance” (εἰδέα), “age” (ἡλικία) and “hair” (θρίξ). Some would like, quite legitimately, to interpret ἡλικία as “height” rather than as “age,” but in my opinion this interpretation is at odds with the context: if the author had wanted to indicate the general appearance of Jesus, why, after appearance and age, would he have chosen to mention hair, rather than any other important part of the body, even a more significant one? The insistence on the features of the head (the hair)

5 Gino Zaninotto, with obvious bias, induces to believe that ὄψις is “a word that indicates the figure of a person” without adding anything else (“La Sindone di Torino e l’immagine di Edessa. Nuovi contributi,” Sindon n.s. 9–10 [1996], p. 120). 6 For example, Constantinus VII Porphyrogenitus, Narratio de imagine Edessena, 19 (12): to Abgar, who watched Thaddaeus approaching him with the cloth laid upon his face, “it seemed to see a shining light which no eye could stand coming out of his face (ὄψις), produced by the likeness laid upon it.” 32 Chapter 3 makes us think that εἰδέα and ἡλικία are two elements that Ananias would have gathered from the observation of the face: the appearance of a man and his age, in fact, can be inferred from the observation of his face and hair color. The Acts of Thaddaeus, in short, do not stray from the tradition: a facial image. There is nothing in this story that indicates that the image represented a bloodied corpse like that seen on the Turinese Shroud. A codex of the Acts dating to the eleventh century (Vindobonensis historicus graecus 45) bears the marks of a later extension of the text – written when the relic was no longer in Edessa – and contains numerous additions. One of them concerns what Ananias would have observed: “What was his appearance, his age, his hair and, in a word, all his limbs.”7 The “everything” (πάντα) of the oldest recension is thus transformed into “all his limbs” (πάντα αὐτοῦ τὰ μέλη), which, according to some, weighs in favor of the thesis of the entire body. When compared with the original text, however, the addition of the limbs is at odds with the original wording that speaks only of “appearance,” “age,” and “hair.” According to Mark Guscin, this means that King Abgar “is telling his artist to bring back a painting of the whole body of Christ.”8 However, this statement is not correct: in contrast with the Doctrina Addai, the Acts of Thaddaeus never describe Ananias as an artist, but as a courier (ταχυδρόμος), nor do they indicate that Abgar ever ordered Ananias to paint a portrait of Jesus. The only thing that Ananias was supposed to do, once the letter was delivered, was to “observe” (ἱστορέω) with the utmost attention the physical appearance of Christ so that he could later describe him to his sovereign. The decision to give to Ananias his own portrait – which represented only the face – was made by Jesus alone. In both recensions one must bear in mind the difference between what Abgar asks from Ananias and what Jesus decides to do out of his own free will, without having been asked: hypothetically, he could have chosen to satisfy Abgar’s desire, providing a portrait of his entire body, just as he could simply have given him the portrait of his face. In any case, he would have exceeded the king’s expectations since he had only hoped for a verbal description from his courier and had not asked for any painting at all. The story continues in the Viennese codex, where it is said that the messenger could not grasp his features

because the face (ὄψις) appeared in one way or another, and the vision was ever-changing and awesome. But the Lord, as He who knows the secrets and scrutinizes the hearts and the marrows, noticing his desire

7 Acta Thaddaei, 2 (in apparatus). 8 M. Guscin, The Image of Edessa, cit., p. 146. Shifting Perspectives? 33

asked to wash himself. When this was done, He was given a tetrádiplon rag and, having washed himself, with it He wiped [or: took an impression of] His undefiled and holy face. Then, having His divine form and appearance been imprinted on the cloth, as He only knows, He gave it to Ana- nias […]. Abgar the toparch, having joyfully received Ananias, cast himself down and worshipped the image […], was cured of his disease. […] He raised this divine and not hand-made image of our Lord Jesus Christ, after having glued it onto a board; he embellished it with gold, now visible, inscribing in the gold these words: “O Christ God, he who hopes in you does not fail.”9

This late recension does not add anything to the substance of the original narrative, but raises the issue of Christ’s theological polymorphism. On the one hand, Christ’s figure is elusive and cannot be represented; on the other hand “the artist’s difficulty in capturing the real features of a holy character, and the account of the consequent divine intervention that overcomes such difficulties […] is a topos in the Lives of Byzantine saints”,10 revealing the fundamental impossibility of men to portray the human-divine features of Christ.11 This phenomenon is hardly exclusive to this story; it is also found, for example, in the legend of the acheiropoieton of Memphis, mentioned around 570 by the Anonymous Pilgrim of Piacenza: this acheiropoieton was formed in the same manner as that in Edessa.12

9 Acta Thaddaei, 3–5: […] διὰ τὸ ἑτέρᾳ καὶ ἑτέρᾳ ὄψει φαίνεσθαι καὶ παρηλλαγμένῃ θεωρίᾳ καὶ ὑπερφυσιοτάτῃ. Ὁ δὲ κύριος, ὡς ἅτε κρυφίων γνώστης καὶ καρδιῶν καὶ μυελῶν ἐξεταστής, γνοὺς τὴν ἐπιθύμησιν αὐτοῦ ᾔτησε νίψασθαι· καὶ τούτου γενομένου ἐπεδόθη αὐτῷ ῥάκκος τετράδιπλον· καὶ νιψάμενος ἀπεμάξατο τὴν ἄχραντον καὶ ἁγίαν αὐτοῦ ὄψιν ἐν αὐτῷ. Ὅθεν ἐκτυπωθείσης τῆς θείας αὐτοῦ μορφῆς καὶ προσόψεως ἐν τῇ σινδόνι, ὡς αὐτὸς μόνος οἶδεν, ἐπέδωκεν τῷ Ἀνανίᾳ […]. Ὁ δὲ τοπάρχης Ἄγβαρος δεξάμενος περιχαρῶς τὸν Ἀνανίαν καὶ πεσὼν καὶ προσκυνήσας τὴν εἰκόνα […] ἰάθη ἀπὸ τῆς νόσου αὐτοῦ. […] Τὴν θείαν καὶ ἀχειροποίητον ταύτην εἰκόνα τοῦ κυρίου ἡμῶν Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ ἐπὶ σανίδος κολλήσας, καὶ διὰ τοῦ νῦν φαινομένου χρυσοῦ καλλωπίσας ἀνέστησεν, ἐπιγράψας ἐν τῷ χρυσῷ ταῦτα τὰ ῥήματα· Χριστὲ ὁ θεός, ὁ εἰς σὲ ἐλπίζων οὐκ ἀποτυγχάνει (in apparatus). 10 A. Eastmond, “Un’eco della leggenda del Mandylion nell’Islam,” in G. Wolf – C. Dufour Bozzo – A.R. Calderoni Masetti (eds.), Intorno al Sacro Volto. Genova, Bisanzio e il Mediter- raneo (secoli XI-XIV), cit., p. 175. 11 Cf. E. Brunet, “L’immagine dell’Uomo non fatta da mani d’uomo. Statuto dell’immagine e dell’arte nei racconti d’origine delle acheropite,” Marcianum 6 (2010), pp. 221–226. 12 Anonymus Placentinus, De locis sanctis, 44: “There we saw a linen cloth, upon which is a portrait of the Savior, who they say wiped his face upon it, and his image remained there […]. Because of its brightness we were not able to look fixedly upon it, because the more earnestly you fixed your gaze upon it the more it changes before your eyes” (ed. P. Geyer, 34 Chapter 3

What interests us most, however, is the addition of a description of the image of Edessa as it was – or was thought to be – at the time when the text was expanded: a picture glued onto a table decorated with gold. Also in two Byzan- tine imitations of the Edessean image, namely the “Mandylion” of Genoa and that of Rome, the image of Christ’s face is painted on linen canvas that has been glued to a wooden board: (Figure 59, 61) this is a customary method in tempera technique, documented since the Hellenistic period. This involves the use of a small pictorial support – a canvas stretched on a table – certainly not a four-meter long sheet. The Genoese and Roman icons also correspond to the story in regard to the presence of gold, which covers the entire surface of the painting leaving room only for the outline of the face.

The Term tetrádiplon and the Reliquary of the Image

In the Acts of Thaddaeus, therefore, as well as in later texts that depend on them, Jesus’ towel is called τετράδιπλον. In 1978, while reading an English version of the Acts, Ian Wilson noticed that the translator had reported in a foot- note the literal meaning of the word τετράδιπλον: “folded in four.”13 Wanting to advance the hypothesis that the Edessean image and the Shroud of Turin are the same object, he resorted to the Greek word to argue that folding the Shroud four times could get this result: a piece of fabric folded in layers, leaving visible on top only the head and part of the torso of the portrayed man. (Figure 1) Wilson thus asserts that viewers of the Shroud, when folded in this fashion and attached to a wooden board, and then hidden inside a gold reliquary would have thought they were seeing only a small cloth bearing the image of Jesus’ face, oblivious to the fact that, hidden between the folds, lurked the complete image of a corpse. Can the narrative of the Acts of Thaddaeus constitute sufficient grounds for such a conjecture? No, because the τετράδιπλον has nothing to do with the burial cloths of Christ, to which the compiler of the Acts refers afterwards, using another name, that is ἐντάφια:

Itinera Hierosolymitana saeculi III-VIII, Vindobonae, Tempsky, 1898, p. 189). Translation by Aubrey Stewart. 13 A. Roberts – J. Donaldson – A.C. Coxe, The Ante-Nicene Fathers. The Writings of the Fathers Down to ad 325, vol. 8, Buffalo, Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1886, p. 558. Shifting Perspectives? 35

Figure 1 The Shroud folded as a tetrádiplon. Drawing by Claudio Votta.

And on the third day before dawn [Jesus Christ] rose, leaving his burial- clothes (ἐντάφια) in the tomb.14

“So here, in the very same text, we have a clear reference to the burial cloths having been left in the tomb, immediately invalidating Wilson’s argument. The

14 Acta Thaddaei, 6: καὶ τῇ τρίτῃ ἡμέρᾳ πρὸ τοῦ αὔγους ἠγέρθη, καταλείψας τῷ τάφῳ τὰ ἐντάφια. 36 Chapter 3

Acts have already made it clear that the image of the living Christ has arrived in Edessa and here are the burial cloths described independently of it.”15 Not only the names of the two objects are different, but also the story as told in the Acts of Thaddaeus. In addition, we must ask ourselves why, if the compiler of the Acts had really wanted to talk about the image of an entire body folded in four, he did not refer to it more clearly? Why would he use such a cryptic term to describe an object completely different from that mentioned by sources before him? Why would he choose a word that none of his contemporaries could understand? The very idea of having to wait until 1978 to finally understand what the word meant is preposterous. The text of the Acts states that Jesus was given a cloth τετράδιπλον. If it had really been a long and cumbersome sheet folded in several layers, Jesus would have had to unfold it, apply it to his entire body, impress his figure on it (front and back, as in the Shroud) and hand it to Ananias. But at this point, once Jesus had deployed it and used it to dry himself, it could no longer be considered a tetrádiplon: is one to assume that Jesus wanted to fold the fabric again, in order to restore it to the form in which it had been given to him? Since the towel would be more than four meters long, such an operation would have required the help of some of those present. It seems clear that in the Acts of Thaddaeus, the use of the term τετράδιπλον does not imply a long sheet, with or without an image. Moreover, the word τετράδιπλον appears the moment that Jesus wipes his face and not afterwards, not even in the passage that mentions the reliquary in which, according to Wilson, the folded sheet would have been stored. Moreover, in the oldest recension of the text there is no mention of any reliquary. It is therefore unjustifiable to compare the shape of the towel in the moment in which it was given to Jesus with the folded shape that it would have acquired much later when it was no longer in Jerusalem but in Edessa where it had been affixed onto a gilded board. This misunderstanding, for which there is no textual evidence, is promoted to buttress the sindonologists’s arguments. Wilson is determined to circumvent the greatest difficulties: beyond the complicated conjecture of the folding, how could a burial cloth bearing the image of a bloodied corpse be reconciled with what the sources describe as the portrait of the face of a very much alive Jesus, in the prime of his preaching activity? Wilson argues that the Shroud’s face, unless observed on the photographic negatives – available only since 1898 – can give the impression of having his eyes open, and that the large spots formed by deposits of clotted blood

15 C. Freeman, Tetradiplon Revisited, on the website http://freeinquiry.com/skeptic/shroud/ articles/freeman_tetradiplon_revisited/index.htm. Shifting Perspectives? 37

Figure 2 The face of the man of the Shroud (color contrast has been digitally enhanced). could easily be misunderstood, or confused with the image of the body.16 (Fig- ure 2) This explanation is also accepted by Werner Bulst and Heinrich Pfeiffer:

No one could infer that the folded cloth, lying on a table placed in a golden casket, is a burial cloth. On the photographic negatives of the Shroud in circulation today, the eyes certainly appear as closed, but on

16 I. Wilson, The Turin Shroud, London, Gollancz, 1978, pp. 99–102. 38 Chapter 3

the sheet itself they look as if they were open. Therefore, the trace on the face that strikes the eye as the shape of an inverted 3, was not recognized as blood, but as a lock of hair or some other similar distinguishing feature.17

The first problem arises from this alleged possibility of confusing the bloodstains with the image of the body: on the Shroud, the diversity of color, inten- sity and characteristics of the blood spots can be perceived to this day, and probably more so in the past, when the stains were fresher and thicker with the presence of a greater amount of coloring material that has disintegrated over the centuries.18 I find questionable the assertion that the eyes of the man in the Shroud are open. The whole theory seems unlikely: why would anyone, in possession of a sheet with the miraculous image of the dead Christ, fold it, seal it in a reliquary that concealed almost the entire image between the folds and distorted it, and allow the false legend of a living Jesus who imprints his image by wiping his face on a towel to circulate? Why would these people also have inserted within the sources allusions that were meant to be kept secret? And how come these allusions, completely ignored by their contemporaries, are so readily identifiable today? The only explanation provided to justify this curious “conspiracy of silence” goes as follows: the overt exhibition of the Shroud could have scandalized the faithful, because of the presence of blood and wounds on the dead body of Je- sus. In the Edessean context, where “monophysite” ideas prevailed, Christians would have been willing to recognize in Christ his divine nature only, but not his true and full humanity.19 Thus, the owners of the Shroud – convinced of the authenticity of the relic and therefore aware of the true human nature of the Lord – would have deliberately and shamefully disguised, for the purpose of deceiving the other faithful, proof that negated their own theology. We should

17 W. Bulst – H. Pfeiffer, Das Turiner Grabtuch und das Christusbild, vol. 1: Das Grabtuch. Forschungsberichte und Untersuchungen, Knecht, Frankfurt am Main, 1987, p. 124. 18 I use the expression “blood” for the sake of simplicity, without this implying that I am taking sides regarding this issue. Some authors have claimed that the presence of real blood – human blood – on the Turin Shroud is undeniable (e.g., P. Baima Bollone, Sindone, storia e scienza, Ivrea, Priuli and Verlucca, 2010, pp. 227–242). Some other tests, however, yielded a negative result. Against the hypothesis of the blood, for instance, L. Garlaschelli, Processo alla Sindone, Roma, Avverbi, 1998, pp. 76–78, and J. Nickell, Inquest on the Shroud of Turin, cit., pp. 155–158, 149–150. 19 Among many, B. Frale, The Templars and the Shroud of Christ, Dunboyne, Maverick House, 2011, p. 136. Shifting Perspectives? 39 think that they have inexplicably wanted to persist in a theological error that was blatantly refuted by the very object that they venerated. In truth, this proposed “Monophysitism” simply reveals the sindolonogists’ lack of knowledge of “Jacobite” theology. The so-called Edessean “Monophy- sites” professed a Christology without any conflict in declaring openly the true humanity of Christ, and they did not deny in any way the reality of his bloody death on the cross.20 Quite simply, there is no reasonable explanation for why they would have hidden in plain sight his alleged burial cloth, bearing the marks of his bleeding wounds. Without this supposed motivation, it is impossible to justify the possession and voluntary concealment of such an important relic. It should be mentioned, for the sake of completeness, a hypothesis presented in the proceedings of the International Congress of Sindonology, in 1978. Its creator explains that the violent death of Jesus on the cross would, according to him, have caused an erection of the penis and emission of sperm, and the fluid would then also have been deposited on the Shroud.

Because of the visibility of the male member, which was perhaps semi- erect, the relic would have never been put on display, and there is every chance that for this reason it would have been destroyed or reduced to the Holy Face. It could even be argued that this has been the cause of the appearance of the reduced image of Edessa and, throughout it, of the whole of its Byzantine iconography.21

The Question of the Folds

The system of folds of the τετράδιπλον, as it has been proposed, (Figure 1) is inconsistent because it involves three processes of folding rather than four.22 In any case the desired result, regardless of the procedure followed, consists of

20 J. Lebon’s works are still a valid reference: Le monophysisme sévérien, Louvain, J. van Linthout, 1909; Id., “La christologie du monophysisme syrien,” in A. Grillmeier – H. Batch (eds.), Das Konzil von Chalkedon. Geschichte und Gegenwart, vol. 1, Würzburg, Echter, 1962, pp. 425–580. 21 R.P. Come (F. Tanazacq), “Le detail le plus atroce de la passion du Christ,” in P. Coero- Borga (ed.), La Sindone e la scienza: bilanci e programmi. Atti del ii Congresso internazionale di Sindonologia, Torino, Edizioni Paoline, 1979, p. 425. 22 See also P.É. Blanrue, Le secret du Suaire. Autopsie d’une escroquerie, Paris, Pygmalion, 2006, p. 124. 40 Chapter 3

Figure 3 Alleged folding creases of the Shroud. a series of folds that generate a subdivision into eight parts, (Figure 3) thus the folded sheet would consist of eight layers. A further development of this theory was proposed by two Jesuits, Werner Bulst and Heinrich Pfeiffer, who, among other things, suggest that, in the fourth century, the Shroud was affixed to the labarum, the military standard of emperor Constantine the Great, covered by a precious piece of fabric:

The image of Edessa showed only the face, the Shroud of Turin shows the double image of the entire body. The road to the solution is suggested by the particular name of the image of Edessa: tetrádiplon (“four times double”) […]. “Four times double” can be said of a cloth only if it is folded into 4x2 = 8 layers. It should be noted that this word does not appear anywhere else in Greek. There is a word that would indicate quite simply the same thing: oktaploun (“eightfold” or “folded in eight”). This awkward for- mulation is understood only if both the “four” and the “double” mean something. Perhaps we need to assume that the cloth was originally folded in four layers, and only on a subsequent occasion folded again so that it would become “double four.” This brings us back to Constantine’s labarum: if the fine fabric placed on the crossbar of the labarum really covered the Shroud of Christ (which, for the time being, we assume only hypothetically), then the Shroud was dangling from the crossbar in four layers. Making reference to the dimensions of the Shroud (which are precisely 4:1), only in this way the result of the square shape specified by Eusebius would have been obtained. Evidently, in the golden casket of Edessa, the Shroud, laid on a table, was yet again folded in two. Otherwise, the “four times double” would make no sense whatsoever. Per- haps the unusual name – which in the mentioned passages worked even as a proper name – was originally a secret word that goes back to the days in which the cloth had to be defended from Julian the Apostate. John P. Jackson, a professor of theoretical physics at Colorado Springs, identified with the most modern procedures the traces of the old folds on the Shifting Perspectives? 41

Figure 4 Maiorina of Vetranio featuring two Roman labarum, Sisak, Croatia (350 ce). Photo: www. wildwinds.com.

Shroud of Turin. If the Shroud of Turin is folded in this way, the face is to be right in the middle of one of the eight folded surfaces. The folded surfaces have that crosswise shape so unusual for a portrait, just like the ancient copies of the image of Edessa. It is essential to point out that in this case, the face appears completely isolated, nothing can be seen of the neck and shoulders.23

The explanation given by Bulst and Pfeiffer is really very complex: first, the Shroud would have been folded twice to form four overlapping layers. In this manner it would probably have been hung, dangling from the labarum, (Figure 4) covered on the outside by a princely protection fabric (and thus, once again, hidden!).24 Later, when it was placed in the casket at Edessa because of the alleged persecution of Julian, it would have been folded once more in the middle, thus creating a series of eight layers. This special fabric folded into “four times two layers” would have then been hidden in a box, safe from the persecu- tions against the Christians.

23 W. Bulst – H. Pfeiffer, Das Turiner Grabtuch und das Christusbild, vol. 1, cit., p. 124. 24 For an introduction to the labarum, including bibliography, see H.W. Singor, “The labarum, Shield Blazons, and Constantine’s caeleste signum,” in L. De Blois et alii (eds.), The Representation and Perception of Roman Imperial Power, Amsterdam, Gieben, 2003, pp. 481–500. 42 Chapter 3

Figure 5 Alleged traces of the folding of the Shroud, according to John Jackson. Photo: J. Jackson, “Foldmarks as a Historical Record of the Turin Shroud,” Shroud Spectrum International 11 (1984).

We are given remarkably imaginative reconstructions, which have not got the slightest documentary support. The only objective element is the study of the Shroud’s folds by the sindonologist John Jackson,25 (Figure 5) but his attempt to reconstruct the ancient folding system by observing the remaining signs on the fabric is quite uncertain. The last study on the fabric of the Shroud encourages scholars to “be careful not to give inappropriate weight to the

25 Cf. J.P. Jackson, “Foldmarks as a Historical Record of the Turin Shroud,” Shroud Spectrum International 11 (1984), pp. 6–29; Id., “New Evidence that the Turin Shroud was the Man- dylion,” in A.A. Upinsky (ed.), L’identification scientifique de l’homme du Linceul, Paris, Guibert, 1995, pp. 301–303. Shifting Perspectives? 43

Figure 6 Surface of the Shroud (before the last restoration). existence of these creases,” most of which have been formed recently, in Chambéry and Turin, where the Shroud has been stored wrapped around a cylinder for nearly five centuries.26 (Figure 6) The theories on the Shroud’s folding are so many and so varied that they allow for a wide variety of interpretations.27 It is verifiable, however, that the Shroud cloth – like any linen fabric

26 It is possible that the Shroud was already stored rolled up, as from 1534, following the restoration works carried out in the aftermath of the fire that burnt portions of the relic at Chambéry, on December 4th, 1532 (cf. G.M. Zaccone – B. Barberis, La Sindone e il suo museo, Turin, UTET, 2010, p. 66). The precious shrine where the Shroud was kept, rolled up, roughly from the end of the sixteenth century to 1998, is preserved at the Museum of the Shroud of Turin. Only since 1998 has the relic been placed horizontally inside a case. 27 M. Flury-Lemberg, Sindone 2002. L’intervento conservativo, Turin, ODPF, 2003, p. 42: “If one looks at the image and leaves the Shroud in a relaxed state, without smoothing it out, a multitude of folds and creases show up immediately. Their existence demonstrates almost every possible way to fold a textile. The majority of these creases or folds have been caused by compressing the fabric in the process of rolling it inappropriately, with the side carrying the image facing in. Recently since the Shroud has been kept in a relatively small shrine in Turin, this was the procedure. […]. The lengthwise folding can be proved to have also been the basis for the other folding systems which can be reconstructed with the aid of the symmetry of various stains. The different ways in which the Shroud has been folded throughout its history are the quadruple folding at the time of the origin of the so-called ‘poker-holes’ or L-shaped holes, and of the circular water stains near them; the folding at the time of Chambéry and the folding at the time of the origin 44 Chapter 3

– is susceptible to the formation of creases, so it would be risky to attribute to any precise historical moment the foldmarks that may have formed at any time during its existence (certainly, as from the fourteenth century, and even more so if the textile was really woven in the first century).28 Only some symmetrical stains and burns visible on the Shroud to this day make it possible to reconstruct with certainty some traces of older folding systems, such as that used at the time of the fire in Chambéry (1532), or when the large water spots that are visible today on the fabric formed. But these systems are incompatible with the one proposed by Wilson, because they take for granted that the first fold was made in the longitudinal direction.29 In fact, the Shroud, and photographs of it show a deeply marked furrow across the center of the sheet perpendicularly, lengthwise. Lengthwise folding systems allowed the image of the corpse to be protected inside. It was preferable to avoid exposure, so that the image could be protected from handling, and the accumulation of dirt could be prevented. This is confirmed by the absence, on the fabric, of dirt and discoloration that one would expect to find on a long sheet folded so as to leave exposed only one side, and perhaps locked in a frame. Both the different folding systems that left the image locked inside and the autopsic examination of the relic, therefore, go against Wilson’s theory: it is not possible that the sheet had remained folded widthwise for a long period, with the image facing the outside, stored in a box with an opening so that only the face could be seen.30 While the folding of the

of the large water stains. The oldest folding system, resembling that of a concertina, can be traced back to the pre-Christian era.” 28 Anyone could verify this by trying to fold a cloth with the same characteristics of the Shroud: a sample similar to the Shroud, with the same weave pattern (herringbone twill), is attached to P. Vercelli’s book, La Sindone nella sua struttura tessile. Studio e riproduzione del tessuto con campione allegato, Cantalupa, Effatà, 2010. Gian Marco Rinaldi has rightly questioned some of the statements put forth in this book, on the website http://sindone. weebly.com/vercelli.html. 29 See the graphic reconstructions by M. Flury-Lemberg, “The Linen Cloth of the Turin Shroud: Some Technical Observations on its Technical Aspects,” Sindon 12/16 (2001), pp. 66–74, modified by A. Guerreschi – M. Salcito, Further Studies on the Scorches and the Watermarks, at www.shroud.com/pdfs/aldo4.pdf. While the technical reconstruction of the folds proposed by these authors is to be taken into consideration, I disagree with many of the comments of historical nature that accompany it. 30 M. Flury-Lemberg, Sindone 2002, cit., p. 42: “All along the centre line of the Shroud the trace of a fold is clearly identifiable, as a V-shaped groove […]. Its existence points to the fact that, in order to protect its precious contents, the cloth was folded lengthwise with the image facing in, apparently from a very early point in time. In this way, the face of the Shroud was always protected, while the reverse was exposed to all kinds of manipulations and to the impact of the environment in the form of staining. The side with the picture is Shifting Perspectives? 45

Shroud is interesting in theory, it cannot be used to establish a definitive connection between the Shroud and the Edessean relic. At this point, we return to the word τετράδιπλον, of which there seems to be no record prior to its link to the Edessean image. Certainly, the adjective διπλός (“double,” “twofold,” “doubled,” “folded in two,” “consisting of two”) has a coun- terpart in the verb διπλόω (“repeat,” “double,” “multiply by two,” “fold in two”) and opposes ἁπλός (“simple,” “single”) and ἁπλόω (“make single,” “make plain,” “unfold,” “spread out”).31 The ascending numerical scale that one might expect is διπλός, τριπλός, τετραπλός (“double,” “triple,” “quadruple”), etc. This word could be compared, as done by Karlheinz Dietz, to the adjective δίπτυχος which means “double-folded,” “doubled” (from πτύσσω) and continues with τρίπτυχος and τετράπτυχος (“threefold” and “fourfold”).32 But in our case, instead, we have to deal with the sequence διπλός, τρίδιπλος, τετράδιπλος, πεντάδιπλος, etc. And this is what has led Bulst, Pfeiffer and others to state that if διπλός indicated a cloth folded in two, τετρά-δι-πλος must certainly be a cloth folded “in two” “four times.” The presence of the particle δι should duplicate each numerical indication that precedes it. But this, in my opinion, is not the meaning that the word apparently has in the Greek language. According to Dēmētrios Dēmētrakos’s great dictionary, τετράδιπλος is “that which is folded four times, that which has four creases, folds” or that which is “fourfold or quadruple (τετραπλόος or τετραπλάσιος).”33 Even Paulos Dranda kēs’s encyclopedia defines it as “fourfold or quadruple,” and using the example of παννὶ τετράδιπλο means “that which is made up of four layers, or that which is four times larger than something else.”34 The Modern Dictionary of the Insti- tute of Neo-Hellenist Studies in Athens follows the same direction: “That

free of such stripes of dust as they develop inevitably along the folding lines of a cloth that has been folded for quite some time. Nor are there any dirty areas on the inner side of the Shroud which would indicate that a particular part of the cloth had been shown temporarily, framed in some way. On the contrary, the front looks, on the whole, astonishingly clean […]. This leads to the conclusion that, as a rule, the face of the Shroud carrying the image was hidden in the lengthwise fold and was only rarely visible.” Suffice it to look at the lining that protected the Shroud from 1534 to 2002: the points left uncovered by the Shroud show a darker fabric, because it has collected dirt, and this occurred even though the relic remained almost always closed in a reliquary! 31 F.R. Adrados (ed.), Diccionario Griego-Español, vol. 5, Madrid, Instituto de filología, 1997, pp. 1120–1121; P. Chantraine, Dictionnaire étymologique de la langue grecque, Paris, Klinck sieck, 19992, p. 286. 32 K. Dietz, Some Hypotheses Concerning the Early History of the Turin Shroud, cit., p. 17. 33 D. Dēmētrakos, Μέγα λεξικόν όλης της ελληνικής γλώσσης, vol. 14, Athens, Domē, 1964, p. 7169. 34 P. Drandakēs (ed.), Μεγάλη Ελληνική Εγκυκλοπαίδεια, vol. 22, Athens, Pyrsos, 1929, p. 901. 46 Chapter 3 which has been folded or wrapped four times, in four,” making it clear that the suffix – διπλος in compound adjectives “declares that the specific thing is folded in so many parts as it expresses the cardinal numeral that acts as a prefix.”35 Ultimately, a τετράδιπλος fabric is “folded in four,” or is “composed of four layers,” or “has four folds.” It is not “folded four times double,” as the δι does not have the function of doubling the preceding numeral. The number should rather indicate how many folds there are, the parts into which something is folded, or the layers resulting from said folding. It is therefore more correctly translated as “quadrupled” or “folded in four,” that is, with four overlapping layers of fabric, as in τετραπλόος.36 According to Martin Illert, there are two possible different translations of the description of the cloth τετράδιπλον: “cloth folded four times” or “cloth with four corners,”37 while Pier Angelo Gramaglia prefers “quadruple” or even “square.”38 It is interesting to note that even the modern Greek religious tradition confirms this interpretation: for the scholar Nicodemus the Hagiorite (1749–1809), whose paraphrase of the Synaxarium is known all over the Greek- Orthodox world, Jesus “was given a cloth folded in four folds, and with it he wiped his own divine and fearless face.”39 It should be noted that in the text of the Acts of Thaddaeus included in the Parisian codex, the term τετράδιπλον is used alone, as a neuter adjective used as noun; in the later recension of the Vindobonensis and its derivate texts, instead, τετράδιπλον is always an adjective accompanied by ῥάκ(κ)ος. If the original version was the first one, we should infer that the term, originally independent, has lost its meaning over time and needed the support of a noun to explain it. Andrew Palmer believes that the absence of ῥάκ(κ)ος is not a feature in the original text and resulted from an omission by the copyist of the Parisian codex.40 Palmer himself strengthens the translation of τετράδιπλον as “with four layers” providing further arguments, such as an emphasis on the scriptural refer-

35 Institouto Neoellēnikōn Spoudōn (ed.), Λεξικό της κοινής νεοελληνικής, Athens, Aristoteleio Panepistēmio, 1998, sub vocibus. 36 Also A. Thumb, Handbuch der neugriechischen Volkssprache, Strassburg, Trübner, 1910, p. 78: “vierfach.” 37 M. Illert, Die Abgarlegende, cit., p. 68, note 286. 38 P.A. Gramaglia, “Giovanni Skylitzes, il Panno di Edessa e le ‘sindoni’,” Approfondimento sindone 1/2 (1997), p. 8. 39 Nikodēmos Agioreitēs, Συναξαριστὴς τῶν δώδεκα μηνῶν, vol. 3, Venice, Tipografia Demetrio di Teodosio da Giannina, 1819, p. 265: ἐδόθη εἰς αὐτὸν ἕνα πανίον διπλωμένον μὲ τέσσαρας δίπλας, καὶ μὲ αὐτὸ ἀπεσπόγγισε τὸ θεῖον καὶ ἄχραντον αὐτοῦ πρόσωπον. 40 A.N. Palmer, “The Logos of the Mandylion: Folktale, or Sacred Narrative?,” cit., p. 176. Shifting Perspectives? 47 ence: a link to the Gospel in quadruple form, which does not portray Christ with pictures and colors, but with words. We must not forget that we are in the same Syrian environment that gave rise to Tatian’s fourfold harmony of the Gospels, called the Diatessaron (διὰ τεσσάρων, that is “out of four”). Further reference is made to the Book of Exodus (28,16 and 39,9) where the linen breast τετράγωνον for the ,רָבּועַ ) ”piece worn by the High Priest is described as “square διπλοῦν): a sacred square ,ּכָ פּול) ”Greek translation of the LXX) and “doubled pouch, containing within the folds the mysterious Urim and Thummim.41 The Greek τετράδιπλον would thus betray its Syrian origins, perhaps from the Old Testament, which would explain why in the Greek language the term was unknown and then generally abandoned and replaced by something else.42 Another hypothesis, put forth by Charles Freeman, is that the adjective tetrádiplon referred to some form of ceremonial folding of a fine cloth to give it additional status, before Jesus applied his face to it. In order to verify this hypothesis, it would be necessary to carry out a deep study of the use, be it Chris- tian or Pagan, of folding objects made of fabric in a ritual context. I find Robert Dutra’s suggestion quite interesting: he claims that the word tetrádiplon could be an attempt at explaining the origins of the many copies of the Edessean image that circulated at the time: a cloth folded four times would have created four miraculous images, imprinted one on top of the other. An easy way to make them all “authentic,” almost automatically.43

The Letter of the Three Patriarchs and Jesus’ Height

The Letter of the Three Patriarchs appear to be the minutes of a synod held in Jerusalem shortly before April 836 when they were sent to the iconoclast emperor Theophilos (829–842) by bishops Christopher of Alexandria, Job of An- tioch and Basil of Jerusalem, to inform him of decisions made under their presidency. The authenticity of the document has been called into question for several reasons. First, it is unlikely that the three patriarchs were all gathered in Jerusalem that year; the document lists an incredible number of participants

41 A.N. Palmer, “The Logos of the Mandylion,” cit., p. 205. 42 I dismiss translations that are entirely fantasy, such as the one mentioned by Alessandro Piana, according to which tetrádiplon means “four times two cubits,” that is, in his opinion, “355,20 cm long,” which would be “a measurement quite close to the 442 centimeters of the Shroud of Turin” (Sindone. Gli anni perduti, Milano, Sugarco, 2007, p. 30). 43 Cf. C. Freeman, Tetradiplon Revisited, on the website http://freeinquiry.com/skeptic/ shroud/articles/freeman_tetradiplon_revisited/index.htm. 48 Chapter 3 in the Council (185 bishops, 17 abbots and 1153 monks) at a time when, among other things, the Holy City was under the control of the Arabs; the unusual way of naming the attending patriarchs and bishops, and the strange formula with which the basileus is addressed. On the other hand, nothing compelling exists to deny that the text, despite some possible interpolation or exaggeration, could have a core of authenticity. The work contains some theological considerations in defense of images, an exhibition of the likeness of Christ, a series of short narratives referring to sacred images and a description of the image of the Theotokos which was originally represented graphically on the letter itself. A version of the tale of the Edessean image is linked precisely to the description of the features of Christ. Julian Chrysostomides considers that the part on the veil of Edessa constitutes an interpolation and puts forth the hypothesis that it was forged after the iconoclast reaction of 843, or even after the translation of the image to Constanti- nople in 944. Enrico Maltese, however, finds it difficult to believe that this part was added at a later time: in his opinion, it is theologically and thematically related to the description of the physical appearance of Jesus.44 The terminus ante quem is certainly the oldest manuscript that reproduces the text of the epistle, the Patmensis 48, dated arguably between the ninth and the mid-tenth century. The document states:

And the Lord himself and savior of all, while he still lived on earth, [left] the imprint of his holy form impressed on a handkerchief with his own holy hands. Having wiped off with it the sweat of his undefiled face, here- after he imprinted in it the features of his holy form; by means of his divine power, all his characteristic traits were shown as [if they had been made] with colors, as it ought to be said, preserving unaltered his divine features on the handkerchief by a miracle. Thus indeed happened by the good will of our savior Jesus Christ, who was seen upon earth and lived together with men. And our Lord and Savior himself sent this venerable handkerchief which bore his image with Thaddaeus, divine apostle, to a certain Abgar, toparch of the great city of the Edesseans; due to it, as if he

44 J. Chrysostomides, “An Investigation Concerning the Authenticity of the Letter of the Three Patriarchs,” cit., pp. xvii-xxxviii; Enrico Maltese’s opinion has been expressed in a text read and recorded, but not published, at the Turinese Congress Sacre impronte e oggetti “non fatti da mano d’uomo” nelle religioni on the morning of May 19, 2010. Shifting Perspectives? 49

was actually seeing the sender in a mirror, stunned by amazement and wonder, he received the sacred baptism with unwavering faith.45

The text continues for a few lines, recalling the saving presence of the cloth in the city of Edessa and the role that it played during the siege of Chosroes in 544.46 In this case, there is no element of innovation; the possibility is once again excluded that the Edessean image described in this Letter, which contains the imprint of the face of Jesus “as with colors,” could be compatible with the monochrome imprint of the Shroud. Not even the term σουδάριον (here translated as “handkerchief”) is necessarily related to a burial cloth: as the Lat- in sudarium – from which the Greek term derives – it indicates any type of cloth for wiping off perspiration; handkerchief or towel. In the Gospel of Luke, for instance, σουδάριον is the name given to the handkerchief that the servant buries with a coin wrapped in it (19,20), and in the Acts of the Apostles there is mention of handkerchiefs (σουδάρια) that were made to touch the apostle Paul. It is therefore impossible to argue for an identification with the shroud that

45 Epistula trium patriarcharum, 7.1a-b: καὶ αὐτὸς δὲ ὁ κύριος καὶ σωτὴρ τῶν ὅλων, ἔτι ἐπὶ γῆς πολιτευόμενος, τὸ ἐκμαγεῖον τῆς ἁγίας μορφῆς αὐτοῦ ἐν σουδαρίῳ τινὶ ἁγίαις χερσὶν αὐτοῦ ἰδίαις, τὸν ἱδρῶτα τοῦ ἀχράντου προσώπου αὐτοῦ ἀπομαξάμενος ἐν αὐτῷ, αὖθις ὁ χαρακτὴρ ἐν αὐτῷ τῆς ἁγίας μορφῆς αὐτοῦ ἐναπομάττεται, τὰ χαρακτηριστικὰ αὐτοῦ πάντα ἰδιώματα, ὡς ἐν χρώμασι τισὶ θείᾳ αὐτοῦ ἐνεργείᾳ ἀναδείκνυται, ὡς δέον εἰπεῖν, ἀπαράλλακτον αὐτὸν τὸν ἔνθεον χαρακτῆρα ἀποσώζων τῷ ἐν τῷ σουδαρίῳ θαυματουργήματι· οὕτως γὰρ ἐγένετο εὐδοκίᾳ τοῦ σωτῆρος ἡμῶν Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ, ὃς ἐπὶ γῆς ὤφθη καὶ τοῖς ἀνθρώποις συνανεστράφη. Καὶ δὴ τοῦτο τὸ σεβάσμιον καὶ ἐξεικονισμένον σουδάριον αὐτὸς ὁ κύριος καὶ σωτὴρ ἡμῶν πέπομφε διὰ Θαδδαίου τοῦ θεσπεσίου ἀποστόλου Αὐγάρῳ τινὶ τοπάρχῃ τῆς Ἐδεσηνῶν μεγαλοπόλεως, δι’ οὗ ὡς ἤδη ἐνοπτριζόμενος τὸν πεπομφότα θάμβει καὶ ἐκστάσει συσχεθείς, πίστει ἀδιστάκτῳ τὸ ἱερὸν δέχεται φώτισμα (ed. J.A. Munitiz, The Letter of the Three Patriarchs, cit., pp. 33–35). Find an Italian translation of the same treaty – not entirely faithful to the original – in L. Duchesne, “L’iconographie byzantine dans un document grec du IXe siècle,” Roma e l’Oriente 5 (1912–1913), pp. 222–239; 273–285; 349–366. 46 Epistula trium patriarcharum, 7.1b-7.2: “This holy imprint the illustrious and famous metropolis of Edessa holds fast like an imperial sceptre to this day, and prides itself and boasts of the miracles and wonders performed among the people by Christ our true God, who granted this favour to the city. In this same city, once upon a time, Chosroes the king of the Persians set the walls on fire with a blaze of olive wood placed all around them and burnt these to ashes. When Eulalios, the holy metropolitan at the time, saw that the people were just about to die as a result of the great blaze, and raised aloft this revered image, the God-imprinted towel, proceeding in a circle around the walls, a divine force issuing forth in a wind and violent blast turned the direction of the blaze against the enemy; it ran through setting on fire the surrounding Assyrians, as did the furnace of the children long ago with the Chaldaeans.” Translation by Joseph A. Munitiz. 50 Chapter 3 was used to bury the dead: the cloth used on this occasion is obviously a towel or handkerchief upon which Jesus leaves his own imprint “with his holy hands.”47 A Letter to Theophilos, found within the works of John Damascene, is a reworking of the Letter of the Three Patriarchs that does not offer anything new:48

And the Savior himself and Lord of all, while he still lived on earth, having impressed on a handkerchief the imprint of his holy form, sent it to a certain Abgar, toparch of the great city of the Edesseans, with Thaddaeus, divine apostle; and He had wiped off the divine sweat of his face, preserving on it all his characteristic traits.49

There is, however, a particularly interesting detail in the description of Christ that precedes these accounts of the Edessean image: The Letter of the Three Patriarchs states that Christ was three cubits tall (ἐν τριπηχαίῳ μέτρῳ or τρίπηχυς), and the same datum is provided in the Letter to Theophilos (τρίπηχυς).50 However, the probable source of these two works, the monk Epiphanius, a Constantinopolitan priest who lived by the end of the eighth and the beginning of the ninth centuries, talks about a height of six feet.51 Are these two measurements compatible? Apparently not, unless, one knows that all Greek units of measurement keep a proportional ratio amongst themselves: a foot (πούς), for instance, corresponds always to sixteen fingers (δάκτυλοι). What about the cubit? There are two types of cubit (πῆχυς), a “short” one – the oldest – that corresponds to twenty-four fingers, and a “long” one that corre-

47 Michele Loconsole, in his book Sulle tracce della Sindone. Un itinerario storico-esegetico, Bari, Ladisa, 1999, p. 33, uses the following (fabricated) datum: “The description of the image as if it were in a mirror, that is, as we would say nowadays, imprinted like a photographic negative” to justify the link between the Shroud’s image in negative and the Edes- sean handkerchief. 48 Cf. H.G. Thümmel, “Das Schreiben der drei Patriarchen, der Brief an Theophilos und die Synode von 836,” Annuarium historiae conciliorum 27/28 (1995–1996), pp. 109–127. 49 Ps. Ioannes Damascenus, Epistula ad Theophilum imperatorem de sanctis et venerandis imaginibus, 5a: καὶ αὐτὸς δὲ ὁ τῶν ὅλων σωτὴρ καὶ κύριος ἐπὶ γῆς ἔτι πολιτευόμενος, τὸ ἐκμαγεῖον τῆς ἁγίας μορφῆς αὐτοῦ ἐν σουδαρίῳ ἀπομαξάμενος, Αὐγάρῳ τινὶ τοπάρχῃ τῆς Ἐδεσηνῶν μεγαλοπόλεως διὰ Θαδδαίου τοῦ θεσπεσίου ἀποστόλου ἐκπέμψας, καὶ τὸν θεῖον ἱδρῶτα τοῦ προσώπου ἐναπομάττεται, τὰ χαρακτηριστικὰ ἰδιώματα αὐτοῦ πάντα ἀποσώζων ἐν τούτῳ (ed. J.A. Munitiz, The Letter of the Three Patriarchs, cit., pp. 151–153). 50 Epistula trium patriarcharum, 7c-d (p. 31); Ps. Ioannes Damascenus, Epistula ad Theophi- lum, 3d (p. 149). 51 Epiphanius Monachus, Sermo de vita sanctissimae Deiparae, 15 (ed. E. von Dobschütz, Christusbilder, cit., p. 302**; cf. J.P. Migne, Patrologia graeca, vol. 120, col. 204c). Shifting Perspectives? 51 sponds to thirty-two fingers: assuming that our two Letters have used the “long” cubit – widespread in Roman-Byzantine times – the measurements of “three cubits” and “six feet” would be equal to each other, because to three “long” cubits correspond six feet, and the total amount in both cases amounts to ninety- six fingers. The height of Jesus, then, would have been 1.77 to 1.87 mt,52 perfectly compatible with the symbolic Byzantine tradition, which attributed the same height to Our Lady too.53 We also know that at the Basilica of St. So- phia in Constantinople was kept the so-called crux mensuralis, a miraculous cross that Justinian had embellished with silver, gold and precious stones and which was said to have been fashioned according to the exact height of Jesus, based on eye witnesses who had traveled to the city of Jerusalem. According to them, the cross measured 1.80 to 1.85 meters. A miniature in a Florentine codex dating from the years 1291–1300, depicts a mensura of 15 centimeters, that mul- tiplied by 12 is precisely 1.80 meters.54 Some sindonologists have used the argument of the measurement to corroborate the cause of the authenticity of the Turinese relic since the height of the man on the Shroud would be compatible with that of the crux mensuralis.55 The argument, however, is ambivalent: that the traditional measure coincides with that of the Shroud’s image could very well mean that the latter has been manufactured according to the canon established by tradition, and not vice versa. It should be noted that the height of Jesus according to the crux mensuralis was well known not only in the East, but also in the West. In the Lateran

52 The oscillation depends on the value of conversion between the Greek measures and the metric system. The minimum and maximum were taken respectively from A. Stazio, “Metrologia greca,” in C. Del Grande (ed.), Enciclopedia classica, section I, vol. 3: Antichità greche, Turin, Società Editrice Internazionale, 1959, p. 550, and from E. Schilbach, Byzan- tinische Metrologie, Münich, Beck, 1970, pp. 266–267. 53 Cf. Andreas Cretensis, De sanctarum imaginum veneratione, 1: “[…] an acheiropoieton image, clearly depicting on a surface the body of the Mother of God, three cubits tall” (ed. J.P. Migne, Patrologia Graeca, vol. 97, col. 1304a). 54 Adding this explanation: “Hec linea bis sexties [sic] ducta mensuram dominici corporis monstrat. Sumpta est autem de Constantinopoli ex aurea cruce facta ad formam corporis Christi.” Biblioteca Medicea Laurenziana, ms. Plut.25.03, f15v, available at http://teca. bmlonline.it. Reproduced and discussed also by G. Ricci, L’uomo della Sindone è Gesù, Rome, Studium, 1969, pp. 236–237. 55 For example, P. Savio, Ricerche storiche sulla Santa Sindone, cit., pp. 172–174; P. Baima Bol- lone – S. Zacà, “La Sindone al microscopio,” in Sindone. Vangelo, storia, scienza, Turin, Elledici, 2010, pp. 50–52; G. Baldacchini et alii, “Crux mensuralis of Grottaferrata and Shroud of Turin,” in P. Di Lazzaro (ed.), Proceedings of the International Workshop on the Scientific Approach to the Acheiropoietos Images, in www.acheiropoietos.info/proceedings/proceedings.php. 52 Chapter 3 in Rome the columns that established the mensura Christi can be seen to this day: this attests to the dissemination and replication of the “holy measure” of Christ derived precisely from the cross in Constantinople, to which prayers were dedicated.56 It seems that certain samples of Western linear measurements can be put in proportional relationship with this alleged height of Jesus; even a “Christian” metric system based on the Byzantine mensura Christi is said to have existed.57 No wonder all the literary, iconographic and monumental sources agree with one another.

56 About the crux mensuralis and its fate in the West, M. Bacci, “Vera croce, vero ritratto e vera misura,” in J. Durand – B. Flusin (eds.), Byzance et les reliques du Christ, Paris, Centre de recherche d’Histoire et Civilisation de Byzance, 2004, pp. 235–238. 57 Cf. G. Uzielli, Le misure lineari medioevali e l’effigie di Cristo, Florence, Seeber, 1899. The Translation Of The Image Of Edessa 53

Chapter 4 The Translation of the Image of Edessa

Gregory Referendarius and the Translation of the Image

In 639 the city of Edessa was conquered by the caliph ʿUmar ibn al-Khaṭṭāb, with whom the domination of the Muslim Arabs began. In 944, the Byzantine general John Kourkouas, at the service of emperor Romanos I Lekapenos, convinced the Arab authorities to exchange the Edessean image for the release of two hundred prisoners, the payment of twelve thousand pieces of silver and a promise not to attack the city.1 Solemnly transported to Constantinople, the portrait entered the emperor’s personal collection of relics. The first Byzantine text written on the occasion of the translation is probably the Gregory Referen- darius’ sermon. It has long been known that a certain Gregory, “archdeacon and referendarius of the great church of Constantinople”2 had written a sermon about the translation of the acheiropoieton image, and that the Vatican Library had a manuscript copy,3 but only in 1988 did Gino Zaninotto publish a partial transcription and translation of the text – for which an unidentified palaeographer

1 About this translation, M. Canard, Histoire de la Dynastie des H’amdanides de Jazîra et de Syrie, tome premier, Alger, La typo-litho et Jules Carbonel reunies, 1951, pp. 747–753; A.A. Vasiliev, Byzance et les Arabes, tome 2/1: La dynastie macédonienne, Brussels, Fonda- tion byzantine, 1968, pp. 297–303; É. Patlagean, “L’entrée de la Sainte Face d’Édesse à Constantinople en 944,” in A. Vauchez (ed.), La religion civique à l’époque médiévale et moderne (Chrétienté et Islam), Rome, École française de Rome, 1995, pp. 21–35. 2 He was an “archdeacon,” although Maria Grazia Siliato promoted him to “archbishop” (Sin- done: mistero dell’impronta di duemila anni fa, cit., pp. 187 and 192). 3 Codex Vaticanus graecus 511, ff. 143–150; the codex consists of 204 sheets, and contains other writings too. Cf. “Ad catalogum codicum hagiographicorum Bibliothecae Vaticanae supplementum,” Analecta Bollandiana 21 (1902), p. 7; R. Devreesse, Codices Vaticani Graeci, vol. 2, Vatican city, Bibliotheca Vaticana, 1937, n° 511; B. Rainò, Giovanni Onorio da Maglie, trascrittore di codici greci, Bari, Edizioni del Centro librario, 1973, p. 181. Therefore, it is incorrect to say – as it has been stated sometimes – that the manuscript was “discovered” by Zaninotto in 1988. According to I. Wilson, The Blood and the Shroud, London, Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1998, p. 154, the work of the Referendarius “had largely escaped even the encyclopedic German von Dobschütz”; but in reality, Dobschütz was acquainted with the work since 1899 (Christusbilder, cit., p. 212*), he knew the contents of the Vatican codex 511 since 1905, and intended to publish it (see his review to H. Delehaye, “Synaxa rium ecclesiae Constantinopolitanae,” Göttingische gelehrte Anzeigen 167 [1905], p. 573).

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2014 | doi 10.1163/9789004278523_005 54 Chapter 4 was commissioned – asserting that the work contained information that en- abled the positive identification of the Edessean image with the Shroud of Tu- rin.4 Subsequently, André-Marie Dubarle, with the help of Joseph Paramelle, oversaw in 1997 an edition of the entire sermon.5 This is an important document as its author was an authoritative contemporary whose title (Referenda- rius) indicates that he was the liaison between the patriarch and the emperor. Zaninotto assumed that the sermon was delivered on the evening of August 16, 944 by a person who took part – perhaps even played a leading role – in the events related to the solemn translation of the relics from Edessa to Constanti- nople. That evening, the image finally arrived at the imperial palace, and was solemnly enthroned in the chrysotriklinos, the large octagonal room in which the throne of the sovereign was located. In his sermon, Gregory addressed his listeners and narrated the ancient tales of the Edessean image, repeating, paraphrasing and comparing the traditions. He referred to the legend of the exchange of letters between Abgar and Jesus and quoted text from both letters in the form handed down by Eusebius of Caesarea; but since Eusebius knew no Edessean image of Christ, Gregory found himself in the need of additional information from different sources:

But since there is no mention of any form in either [letter] […], we were driven to Edessa, our souls kindled with zeal, hoping to find the deeds concerning Abgar in the codices therein. And, upon our insistent petition, we found [them], written in Syrian letters and language. Having taken from them what [the emperor] had required, it was translated into the Greek language.6

According to Gregory, then, these unknown Syriac books reported what was missing in Eusebius: Christ had dried his face to imprint his image, and the

4 G. Zaninotto, “Orazione di Gregorio il Referendario in occasione della traslazione a Costantinopoli dell’immagine edessena nell’anno 944,” in S. Rodante (ed.), La Sindone. Indagini scientifiche, Cinisello Balsamo, Paoline, 1988, pp. 344–351; see also Id., “Il codice Vat. Gr. 511, ff. 143–150v: una conferma dell’identità tra l’immagine edessena e la Sindone di Torino?” Collegamento pro Sindone March-April 1988, pp. 14–25. 5 A.M. Dubarle, “L’homélie de Grégoire le Référendaire pour la réception de l’image d’Édesse,” Revue des études byzantines 55 (1997), pp. 5–51. 6 Gregorius Referendarius, Homilia, 9: ἐπεὶ δὲ μνήμη μορφῆς ἐν ἑκατέραις αὐτῶν σεσιώπηται […] τὰ Αἴδεσσα ζήλῳ καιόμενοι τὰς ψυχὰς συνηλάθημεν, τὰ ἀμφὶ τὸν Ἄβγαρον πραχθέντα εὑρεῖν ἐν τοῖς ἐκεῖσε οὐκ ἀπελπίζοντες κώδιξι. Καὶ ἀνεύρομεν ἐντεύξει πολλῇ σύρᾳ γεγραμμένους συλλαβῇ καὶ φωνῇ, ἀφ’ ὧν ἅπερ ἀπῄτει ἀναλαβόμενοι, πρὸς τὴν ἑλλάδα διάλεκτον μετεφράσθη. The Translation Of The Image Of Edessa 55

Apostle Thaddaeus had gone to Abgar with that towel, holding it upon his own face. Here is the supposed dialogue between the two:

King Abgar said to Thaddaeus: “[…] Explain this to me: how the holy form that healed me has been imprinted on the cloth – indeed I see that it is not made with ordinary colors – and which is its exceeding mighty, since as soon as I have seen it spread out upon your face I was delivered from my disease” […]. And to this Thaddaeus [answered]: “When Ananias, to whom you entrusted the letters, said with lively voice that you, apart from your cure, wished also to see the likeness of his visible face, [Jesus] urged him to hasten towards you with his letter, in which he promised that he would have sent you one of his disciples – that is, me – after his own ascension. When he was in an agony because of his voluntary passion […], taking this cloth he wiped off the sweats7 that, being in an agony, his face had shed as drops of blood. And suddenly, miraculously, as he had brought everything to existence from nothing with the might of his divinity, he represented on the cloth the effulgence of his form. And when he came down the mountain of [his] prayer, he gave it to Thomas, one of my fellow-disciples, because I was absent; and ordered him to give it to me […]. And I have placed it upon my face, showing, even before speaking, that this is the effulgence of the face of He whom you were seeking, and that this [effulgence] – rather than me – is what appears to you; [this I do] honoring it as much as I can with the upper part of my body – the most beautiful things, indeed, are not under the armpit, but on the forehead – [showing] at the same time that the light that shines is not to be attributed to my [face], but to that placed on top [of my face].”8

7 “Sweats” in plural does not sound right in English, but the Greek version stresses the difference between “sweat” and “sweats,” so I wanted to keep the word as it is in the original. 8 Gregorius Referendarius, Homilia, 10–13: ἔφη πρὸς Θαδδαῖον ὁ βασιλεὺς Ἄβγαρος· […] Ἐκεῖνο δὲ δίδαξον, πῶς ἡ ἐν τῇ ὀνῃ ἀναστή σασά με ἁγία ἐνετυπώθη μορφή, οὐ γὰρ ὁρῶ αὐτὴν γεγονυῖαν συνήθεσι χρώμασι, καὶ τίς ἡ ταύτης ἰσχὺς ὑπερβάλλουσα, ὅτι ἅμα εἶδον ἡπλωμένην αὐτὴν ἐν τῇ ὄψει σου ἀπηλλάγην τῆς νόσου μου […]. Καὶ ὁ Θαδδαῖος πρὸς ταῦτα· Ἀνανίου ᾧ τὰς ἐπιστολὰς ἐπιστεύσατε ζώσῃ φονῇ εἰπόντος μετὰ τῆς ὑγείας γλίχεσθαί σε ἰδεῖν καὶ τοῦ ὁρωμένου προσώπου αὐτοῦ τὴν ἐμφέρειαν, τὸν μὲν φθάσαι πρὸς σὲ προετρέψατο μετὰ τῆς ἐπιστολῆς αὐτοῦ, ἐν ᾗ σοι ἕνα τῶν αὐτοῦ μαθητῶν ἐπηγγείλατο πέμψαι μετὰ τὴν αὐτοῦ ἀνάληψιν, ὅστις εἰμὶ ἐγώ· ὁ δέ, ἡνίκα πρὸς τὸ ἑκούσιον πάθος αὐτοῦ ἀγωνιῶν […] ταύτης τῆς ὀνης λαβόμενος ἀνεμάξατο οὕς ἀγωνιῶντος ὡσεὶ θρόμβους αἵματος ἱδρῶτας τὸ πρόσωπον αὐτοῦ ἐπεστάλασσεν. Καὶ παραδόξως εὐθύς, ὥσπερ ἐκ τοῦ μὴ ὄντος οὐσίωσε θεότητος ἰσχύϊ τὸ πᾶν, οὕτως ἀνετυπώσατο ἐν τῇ ὀνῃ τὸ ἀπαύγασμα τῆ ς μορφῆς αὐτοῦ. Καὶ καταβὰς ἀπὸ τοῦ ὄρους τῆς προσευχῆς, ἑνὶ τῶν συμμαθητῶν μου παρέθετο ταύτην Θωμᾷ, ὅτι μὴ παρὼν ἤμην ἐγώ· παρήγγειλε δὲ αὐτῷ 56 Chapter 4

The story of the encounter between the Edessean messenger Ananias and Je- sus has experienced a change of setting: Jesus has given the image of his own face, not after having washed with water, but after wiping off the sweat mixed with blood that streamed down his face the night of his arrest in the Garden of Gethsemane (Luke 22,44).9 Other than this variation (the Letter of the Three Patriarchs also speaks of “sweat”), the story is the same and there is no Shroud whatsoever; likewise – contrary to what Ilaria Ramelli states – the explicit reference to the “funeral nature of the sheet”10 is nowhere to be found. The sacred imprint, however, is not brought to Abgar by Ananias, but by Thaddaeus. He presents himself before the king of Edessa with the cloth lying on his face, so that Abgar can admire the splendor of Christ’s face and direct his worship to him, without being distracted by the sight of Thaddaeus’ face. The story makes unmistakable reference to a towel used to clean the face in order to please King Abgar who wished to see the likeness of the face of Christ. The cloth, Gregory repeats, contained a portrait that “by means of the mere contact with the face of Christ has been fashioned after His form.”11 Almost all the names that Gregory Referendarius uses to identify the relic are generic and not related to the support, but to what was depicted on it: what is imprinted on the “cloth” he calls “image,” “acheiropoieton image,” “figure,” “imprint,” “form,” “features,” “effulgence.”12 This miraculous towel, with the face of Jesus, had to be of such dimensions as to be laid upon the face of Thaddaeus. Later, when Gregory’s sermon narrates how the bishop of Edessa used it to drive away the enemies who were besieging the city, he speaks of an object that could be comfortably held between the palms of the hands:

μεταθεῖναι ταύτην ἐμοί […]. Ἐγὼ δὲ τοῦτο ἐθέμην ἐν τῇ ὄψει μου καὶ πρὸ ῥημάτων δεικνὺς οὗ ἐπεζήτεις προσώπου εἶναι ἀπαύγασμα, καὶ ὅτι μᾶλλον αὐτό σοι ὀπτάνεται ἤπερ ἐγώ, καὶ ὡς μέγιστον ὑπερῴῳ τῷ τοῦ σώματός μου τιμῶν – οὐ γὰρ ἐπὶ μασχάλης ἀλλ’ ἐπὶ μετώπῳ τὰ κάλλιστα – καὶ ἅμα μὴ τῷ ἐμῷ, τῷ δὲ ἐπικειμένῳ λογίσασθαι τὸ ἐκπεμπόμενον φῶς. 9 It is absolutely impossible that this was the original environment of the legend, and that instead, the tradition of Abgar was “maybe a later addition”: what is true is the exact opposite (see M. Centini, I volti di Cristo, cit., p. 66). 10 I. Ramelli, “Dal Mandilion di Edessa alla Sindone,” cit., p. 180; Ead., “Il Mandylion di Edessa, cioè la Sindone,” Il Timone. Bimestrale di formazione and informazione apologetica 85 (July/August 2009), p. 29: “Gregory Referendarius […] in a sermon of the year 944 declared that it was a burial cloth.” 11 Gregorius Referendarius, Homilia, 3: τῇ ἁπλῶς πρὸς πρόσωπον προσψαύσει Χριστοῦ εἰδοποίηται εἰς μορφὴν αὐτοῦ. 12 Gregorius Referendarius, Homilia, 10, 11, 12 and 14: ὀνη; 27 and 28: εἰκών; 14: ἀχειροποίητος εἰκών; 27: εἶδος; 16, 17, 26 and 28: ἐκμαγεῖον; 3, 9, 10, 14, 20, 25, 26 and 28: μορφή; 3 and 25: χαρακτήρ; 11, 13, 18, 24, 25 and 28: ἀπαύγασμα. The Translation Of The Image Of Edessa 57

Eulalios, then the metropolitan, holding in his palms the cloth wherein the image not made by hands had formed, marched on top of the city- wall while the citizens watched.13

In Gregory, as in the other sources, there is nothing else to suggest that we are dealing with a long shroud. There is a passage, though, that according to the proponents of the sindonological theory, constitutes “striking evidence that the Mandylion and the Shroud were one and the same object.”14 It is placed in the context of a complex allegorical discourse, which finds its natural place within a text rich in biblical references, theological considerations and patristic reminiscences (above all, Gregory Nazianzen and Gregory of Nysse). Shortly before this passage, Gregory Referendarius compared the translation of the holy image with the Jews leaving Egypt with all their cattle, and called into question the story of the Ark of the Covenant rescued from the hands of the Philistines and carried in triumph to Jerusalem. The author himself uses the technical term θεωρία to qualify his own exegetical process of spiritual contemplation in which the reading of the Scriptures goes beyond the literal and immediate sense of the texts.15 As the eye cannot withstand the rays of the sun, says Gregory, so the intellectual eye of the soul is not able to see what is useful, if it does not resort to the help of the Scriptures:

This is why He who is good by nature commands to scrutinize the Scrip- tures. Let us be persuaded to incline our thought and hearing toward him, and let us not stray away from the abyss of the Scripture, with divine inspired zeal; so that, as the hagiographer says, the abyss – thus he calls

13 Gregorius Referendarius, Homilia, 14: ὁ δὲ τότε μητροπολίτης Εὐλάλιος, ἐπιθεὶς ταῖς παλάμαις ἑαυτοῦ τὴν ἐν ᾗ ὀνην ἡ ἀχειροποίητος εἰκὼν ἐμεμόρφωτο, ὁρώντων τῶν πολιτῶν, ἄνω τὰ τείχη διώδευεν. 14 D.C. Scavone, The Shroud of Turin. Opposing Viewpoints, San Diego, Greenhaven Press, 1989, p. 86. 15 Cf. A. Vaccari, “La ‘teoria’ esegetica della scuola antiochena,” Biblica 1 (1920), pp. 3–36; Id., “La ‘teoria’ esegetica antiochena,” Biblica 15 (1934), pp. 94–101 (repr. in Id., Scritti di erudizione e di filologia, vol. 1, Rome, Edizioni di Storia e Letteratura, 1952, pp. 101–142); P. Ternant, “La θεωρία d’Antioche dans le cadre des sens de l’Écriture,” Biblica 34 (1953), pp. 135–158; 354–383; 354–383; 456–486. According to Diodorus of Tarsus, the founder of the so-called Antiochene School, “while allegory weakens and abuses the letter of the text, theoria recognises a higher level of meaning which overlies the literal, without delet- ing or weakening it” (M. Simonetti, Biblical Interpretation in the Early Church, Edinburgh, T&T Clark, 1994, p. 67). 58 Chapter 4

the Scripture – calls unto the abyss, that is to say that we draw on the [abyss] of meditations [to fill] the reservoirs of the soul, and from deep within may we run rivers of living water.16

The Scriptures are seen as an abyss that calls unto the abyss (Ps 42,8), that is, as a repository of teachings from which to draw all those spiritual meditations and contemplations, the “theories,” that will fill the reservoir of the soul; and from the belly, once it is filled with understanding, can flow rivers of living water, according to the words of Jesus: “He who believes in me, as the Scripture has said, streams of living water will flow from his belly” (John 7,38). Gregory continues:

But [the acheiropoieton image] – may everyone be inspired by the tale – has been imprinted by means of the sole sweats of agony of the life-giving face, shed like drops of blood, and by means of the finger of God. These are the beauties that have colored the actual imprint of Christ, because also that from which they were shed was embellished by the droplets from his own side. Both are laden with doctrine: there, blood and water, here, sweat and form. Oh, such equality of deeds! These things, in fact, [come] from one and the same. But also the source of living water has been contemplated, and it gives water, teaching that – since the sweats that the side of each person’s nature pours are the makers of the form – it [i.e. the source] is the maker of his form, as well as a fountain that gushes out streams like from springs that irrigate the tree of life, splitting up into two branches: the one that draws the man and God himself, marvelously creating, on the one hand, an extraordinary superhuman reality, and composing, on the other hand, a circumscribed shape fit for a man; and the other [branch] that prescribes, with an inner word, with what colors what [has been made] in the image and likeness [of God] should be adorned. And indeed, for the archetype to be transferred to the likeness, he makes it with the sweats of the form that he deigned to bear.17

16 Gregorius Referendarius, Homilia, 24: διά τοι καὶ αὐτὸς ἐντέλλεται ὁ φύσει χρηστὸς τὰς γραφὰς ἐρευνᾶν, ᾧ κλῖναι πεισθῶμεν μετὰ τῆς ἀκοῆς τὴν διάνοιαν, καὶ τῇ τῆς γραφῆς ἀβύσσῳ θεοφορουμένῃ σπουδῇ παραμείνωμεν ὅπως, ὡς ὁ ἱερολογῶν φησίν, ἄβυσσος – τὴν γραφὴν οὕτω καλῶν – ἄβυσσον ἐπικαλεῖται, τὴν τῶν θεωριῶν δηλονότι, ταῖς τῆς ψυχῆς ἐπαντλῶμεν δεξαμεναῖς καὶ ποταμοὺς ζῶντος ὕδατος ἐκ τῆς κοιλίας ὑδροῤῥοήσωμεν. 17 Gregorius Referendarius, Homilia, 26–27: τὸ δέ, πᾶς ἐνθεασθήτω τῷ διηγήματι μόνοις ἐναγωνίοις ἱδρῶσι προσώπου ζωαρχικοῦ, τοῖς ὡσεὶ θρόμβοι κατασταλάξασιν αἵματος ἐντετύπωται, καὶ δακτύλῳ θεοῦ. Αὗται τὸ ἐκμαγεῖον ὄντως Χριστοῦ αἱ χρωματουργήσασαι The Translation Of The Image Of Edessa 59

The passage is complex and allusive, where the practical application of meditation and spiritual contemplation typical of the θεωρία is made explicit by the use of the verb θεωρέω when it appeals to the issue of the previously mentioned fountain of living waters. And the mention of the side that makes rain seems to be related to what was said before, that is, to the reference to the belly full of understanding (fruit of spiritual contemplation) that gushes out streams of living water. The sweat mixed with blood that the suffering Christ in Gethsemane wiped with the cloth has miraculously produced the Edessean image, by means of the intervention of the finger of God, that is, of his power.18 Likewise, also the body of Christ on the cross, as the cloth of Abgar, was adorned by water mixed with blood coming from the wound of his own side. Both objects – the body of Christ and the cloth – have been embellished by the blood, in both cases coming “from one and the same” Lord; but in the former case it happened thanks to a supernatural intervention, while in the latter it was a natural phenomenon. Gregory invites us to contemplate the two distinct effusions of blood, originating during two different moments of the Passion.

ὡραιότητες, ὅτι καὶ τὸ ἀφ’ οὗ κατεσταλάχθησαν, ῥανίσι πλευρᾶς ἰδίας ἐγκεκαλλώπισται. Ἄμφω δογμάτων μεστά· αἷμα καὶ ὕδωρ ἐκεῖ ἐνταῦθα ἱδρὼς καὶ μορφή. Ὢ πραγμάτων ἰσότητος, ἐκ τοῦ ἑνὸς γὰρ ταῦτα καὶ τοῦ αὐτοῦ· ἀλλὰ καὶ πηγὴ ζῶντος ὕδατος τεθεώρηται, καὶ ποτίζει, μορφουργῶν διδάσκουσα ἱδρώτων, ὧν ἡ ἑκάστου τῆς φύσεως ὑετίζει ὀσφύς, εἶναι τὸν αὐτοῦ μορφουργόν, ὥσπερ καὶ κρήνη νάματα βλύζουσα ὡς ἀπὸ προχοῶν, αἳ τὸ ξύλον ἀρδεύουσι τῆς ζωῆς, εἰς δύο μεριζομένη ἀρχάς, εἰς τὴν ἀναγράφουσαν θεὸν καὶ ἄνθρωπον τὸν αὐτόν, τὸ μὲν ἐν τῷ παραδόξως δημιουργῆσαι πρᾶγμα ἐξαίσιον ὑπὲρ ἄνθρωπον, τὸ δὲ ἐν τῷ συστῆσαι εἶδος περιγραπτὸν κατὰ ἄνθρωπον, καὶ εἰς τὴν λόγῳ ἐνδιαθέτῳ θεσπίζουσαν, οἵοις κοσμεῖν χρώμασι δεῖ τὸ κατ’ εἰκόνα καὶ καθ’ ὁμοίωσιν. Καὶ γὰρ ἵνα μετάγοιτο πρὸς τὸ ὁμοίωμα τὸ ἀρχέτυπον, ἐκ τῶν ἱδρώτων τοῦτο ἧς φορέσαι μορφῆς ἠξίωσεν αὐτουργεῖ. I have aligned the punctuation with that of the manuscript (I thank Gino Zaninotto and Valerio Polidori for the two photographs). The understanding of the sentence ἀλλὰ καὶ πηγὴ ζῶντος […] μορφουργόν is extremely complex. The phrase μορφουργῶν ἱδρώτων can be understood not only as a genitive absolute, but also as a genitive of limitation («regarding the sweats that make the form») followed by ὧν for attraction of the relative. The Referendarius is saying that the source of living water that exists in each of us, which springs from the reservoirs of the soul, filled with the fruits of meditation on the Scriptures (a theme addressed just before), can also produce the image of God, an image that is colored thanks to the prescriptions of the “inner word” which is discussed next. Or, referring the μορφουργόν to Christ, it would yield: “It is Him the maker of his own form,” where αὐτοῦ is to be understood as ἑαυτοῦ. Or, more simply, “the maker of the form is the same person,” which, however, requires – as suggested by Dubarle – the correction of αὐτοῦ as αὐτόν. 18 “The finger of God” is a biblical expression that indicates the power of God (Exodus 8,15; Luke 11,20) and definitely has nothing to do – contrarily to what Daniel Scavone imagines – with the shape of the bloodstain on the forehead of the man of the Shroud (“A Review of Recent Scholarly Literature,” cit., p. 454). 60 Chapter 4

Christ is the source of both, his face drips sweat mixed with blood, his side blood mixed with water. The concept, which borrows words from the book of Genesis, refers to the ramifications of two different springs that gush from the same source: Christ is, in the same manner, the origin of both the miraculous impression of blood and sweat on the Edessean cloth and the salvific effusion of blood and water on the cross. The miraculous imprint of Edessa is simultaneously human and divine because it is both “extraordinary superhuman reality” and “circumscribed, fit for a man,” and can be perceived with the senses. With this example, the orator continues, Christ has taught us to create in ourselves the image of God, not with colors from the outside but with those from within: purity, abandonment of all evil, freedom from sin (quoting Gregory of Nyssa). As a matter of fact, in order to leave the imprint of his face, Jesus too has used his own sweat, the by-product of human nature that he had assumed: thus he has transferred the archetype (his face) onto the likeness (the image on the cloth). Underlying the recurrent reference to the “imprint” there is a deep reflection on the concept of miraculous replication of a divine original which goes beyond the concept of perfect physical correspondence with the model.19 In this passage – Gregory clearly states – the image is described as the result of “the sole sweat of agony of the face” of Christ, and nothing else. But a different interpretation of some words provided the opportunity for Gino Zaninotto and André-Marie Dubarle to claim the shared identity between the Edessean cloth and the Shroud of Turin. When translating the expression αὗται τὸ ἐκμαγεῖον ὄντως Χριστοῦ αἱ χρωματουργήσασαι ὡραιότητες, ὅτι καὶ τὸ ἀφ’ οὗ κατεσταλάχθησαν ῥανίσι πλευρᾶς ἰδίας ἐγκεκαλλώπισται – that I have translated as “these are the beauties that have colored the actual imprint of Christ, because also that from which they were shed was embellished by the droplets from his own side” – both authors have interpreted ἀφ’ οὗ as “after,” and have referred the τό to the cloth (ἐκμαγεῖον), translating as follows: “these are the beauties that have colored the actual imprint of Christ, because it too (that is, the imprint), after they were shed, was embellished by the droplets from his own side.”20

19 E. Brunet, “L’immagine dell’Uomo non fatta da mani d’uomo,” cit., pp. 226–231. 20 Cf. G. Zaninotto, “Orazione di Gregorio,” cit., p. 349; A.M. Dubarle, “L’homélie de Grégoire le Référendaire,” cit., p. 28. The same translation used by M. Centini, I volti di Cristo, cit., p. 66, by E. Marinelli, La Sindone. Testimone di una presenza, cit., p. 51, and by M. Oxley, The Challenge of the Shroud, Central Milton Keynes, AuthorHouse, 2010, p. 36. John C. Ian- none proposes an utterly made up translation: “Blood and water from the side wound of the cloth” (The Mystery of the Shroud of Turin, New York, Alba House, 1998, p. 115). The Translation Of The Image Of Edessa 61

In this manner, they introduce the idea that it was not the body of Christ but the imprint on the linen cloth that was embellished by the blood shed from the side. A further quantum leap – not supported by textual evidence – allows them to deduce that the Referendarius had delivered his sermon while having before his eyes a sheet – the Shroud of Turin – on which Jesus’ face and the bloody wound of the side could be seen at the same time! The opposite terms ἐκεῖ and ἐνταῦθα (“there” and “here”) would refer to two different areas of the long fabric of the shroud: there – that is, in the area of the side – blood and water; here – around the face – sweat and image. One could even imagine Gregory delivering his speech while he points to the spots on the Shroud, that are a few centimeters away from each other. This translation, however, does not stand up to examination: instead of τό there should be τοῦτο, τόδε or αὐτό, and also the expression ἀφ’ οὗ (“from which”) in this context and position does not suggest an “after.” Pier Angelo Gramaglia has challenged this reading, focusing on Gregory’s “contemplative association of two different episodes and images,”21 on the one hand, that is, “there,” on the Golgotha, the body of Christ covered in blood and water gushed out of his side, on the other, meaning “here,” in the imperial palace, the cloth that features his likeness, with its mixture of blood and sweat and the image created by the contact with his face. Thus, these are not two extremes of the same cloth, but two different objects. Additionally, “blood and water” versus “sweat and form,” when applied to the Turinese Shroud, is meaningless. The Greek text says: “there [i.e. on the body of Jesus] blood and water, here [i.e. on the Edessean cloth] sweat and form.” Christ’s crucified body was covered with blood and water, but his sweat and his image were captured and displayed on the Edessean cloth. When sindonologists twist this text to claim that it in dicated two different parts of the image on the Shroud – the side and around the face – they conflate the terms “there” and “here.” The Shroud shows a face stained with blood but also a side pouring blood. Were we to follow their reasoning, the distinction made by Gregorius would be pointless, because in both the parts of the Shroud (face and side) there are large stains of blood. Bernard Flusin correctly surmised that the argument “lacks grounds” because “neither the words in the text nor the logic of the tale favor it.”22 In fact, even

21 P.A. Gramaglia, “Ancora la Sindone di Torino,” cit., p. 112; challenged – albeit with rather weak arguments, in my opinion – by A.M. Dubarle, “L’omelia di Gregorio il Referendario e il Lenzuolo di Torino,” Collegamento pro Sindone March-April 1992, pp. 40–54. 22 B. Flusin, “Didascalie de Constantin Stilbès sur le mandylion et la sainte tuile (BHG 796m),” Revue des études byzantines 55 (1997), p. 58. Flusin’s article appears immediately after the edition of Referendarius’ text published by Dubarle, in the same journal. 62 Chapter 4 the sindonologist Mark Guscin, who accepted it at first, has now rejected this translation.23 One additional and insurmountable obstacle remains: in his sermon, Greg- ory repeatedly reported that the image of Edessa was imprinted on a towel with which Jesus had wiped his face: what has the Shroud got to do with this? In an attempt to settle the matter, Dubarle resorts to an entirely fanciful explanation: the cloth used in the Garden of Olives to wipe the sweat of Jesus would first have been delivered to Thomas so he could give it to Thaddaeus and at a later point in time it was reused by Joseph of Arimathea as a sheet to wipe the blood of the dead body of Jesus himself, and, finally, it was brought to Edessa.24 Gregory Referendarius would have had to believe that the same sheet included a double impression: the first, only of the face of the living Christ in the Garden of Olives, while a second impression showed the whole body after the deposition. However, in his sermon there is no mention of the use of the same fabric on two different occasions, and all of this is just a figment of Dubarle’s imagination. Why someone would bring a four-meter long sheet to the Garden of Olives in order to wipe the sweat off a face, then set it aside and reuse it the next day as a shroud, and how could the archdeacon have ascertained the existence of an impression on the same cloth that took place at two different times (there is just one image on the Shroud of Turin, not two!). Finally, if the face of Jesus, after having been impressed on the cloth for the first time, was also impressed a second time, we should see not one but two images of the face of Christ, alive and dead, on the Shroud. All these are legitimate but ultimately unnecessary objections since Gregory, throughout his entire sermon, makes no reference whatsoever to anything that could justify this farfetched conjecture. One would like to understand why Gregory would not have emphasized this unexpected and remarkable discovery: a relic that had always been described as a hand towel bearing the imprint of the face of the living Christ was actually a shroud bearing the bloodied image of his entire corpse! If Gregory Referen- darius and all the bystanders had noticed this strange variation they would not have failed to point it out, and not using cryptic allusions, but in the clearest of terms. The orator would also have changed the whole meaning of the sermon, which does not deviate in the slightest from the traditional description of the

23 M. Guscin, The Image of Edessa, cit., p. 208: “The thrust of the text is that the sweat of agony (like drops of blood) adorned the Image, just like blood from its side adorned the body from which the sweat had dripped.” 24 A.M. Dubarle, “L’homélie de Grégoire le Référendaire,” cit., p. 12. The Translation Of The Image Of Edessa 63

Edessean image as an imprint of the face of Christ.25 In the sindonological field this is dealt with by resorting to the “deliberate silence argument,” which asserts that Gregory was unable to inform the inhabitants of Constantinople of his extraordinary discovery. Dubarle claims that Gregory “could not insist” on the subject because he was “in part bonded by the traditional data, which did not know anything other than the impression of the face,” attributing a very unusual reluctance to the Byzantine world. Moreover, according to Gino Za- ninotto, “the Christian community was not able to understand and welcome the news.”26 But if so, providing that this makes any sense, Gregory would also have had to avoid mentioning the existence of a stain that – at least according to Dubarle– had been made by the blood of the side wound that nobody could see and about which it was much better that nobody should and could know nothing! Dubarle continues with even more contradictory statements. In his opinion, Gregory himself “had not understood that the cloth had wrapped the entire body of Christ in the tomb,”27 and because he “did not have the knowledge […] that would result from a full deployment of the sheet,” he “did not recognize in the image of Edessa a funeral shroud.” How could one imagine that someone may have had in his hands a linen like the Shroud of Turin, four-meters long and bearing the double representation of a bloodied, crucified man, being able to admire “the trace of the bloodied face and of the pierced and bleeding side”28 without unfolding the sheet and without realizing what it was that he held in his hands? If Gregory had not deployed the sheet and had not understood its fu- nerial function, he would not have seen the image of the whole body of Christ

25 One of the explanations proposed to remedy that this evidence occurs in all the texts, is that “as new details of the Image were discovered, they were added to the story, but not once during this process an attempt was made at eliminating the inner contradictions that resulted from the addition of such new details”; details that would consist of the alleged new information about the “wholeness” of the Edessean image. In short, all the texts dedicated to the acheiropoieton would have contained contradictory elements, without any attempt being made to change what appeared outdated and wrong in the light of the new acquisitions. The explanation seems too simplistic, and inadmissible, given the dynamic nature of these legends, and also because these “new details” are not such (I quote from M. Guscin, “Análisis comparativo del estudio de la historia del Sudario de Oviedo y la Síndone de Turín,” in J.M. Rodríguez Almenar – J. Chirivella Garrido [eds.], El sudario del Señor, Oviedo, Cabildo de la Catedral de Oviedo, 1996, p. 481). 26 G. Zaninotto, “La Sindone/Mandylion nel silenzio di Costantinopoli,” in E. Marinelli – A. Russi (eds.), Sindone 2000. Congresso mondiale, vol. 2, San Severo, Gerni, 2002, p. 471. 27 A.M. Dubarle, “L’homélie de Grégoire le Référendaire,” cit., ibidem. 28 A.M. Dubarle, “L’omelia di Gregorio il Referendario e il lenzuolo di Torino,” cit., pp. 45, 49 and 51. 64 Chapter 4 nor the imprint of the side wound, let alone referred in his sermon to two distinct areas of the cloth, unless he had first opened it before the eyes of all those who had come to hear the sermon. At this point it would be easier to speculate, as Gaetano Ciccone and Carmela Sturmann do, that the cloth has been sprinkled with some drops of the blood of Jesus preserved as a relic in a phial in the Chapel of the Pharos in Constantinople; but I do not think it necessary to ac- commodate such a provocative reading – although it makes more sense than the sindonological one – since the meaning of the text is clearly another.29 Dubarle rules out that Gregory had seen the Shroud unfolded. However, Gino Zaninotto considers it likely that during the ceremony of the solemn enthronement of the relic in the Imperial Hall of the chrysotriklinos, an investigation of the image was carried out, during which those in attendancewere “invited to observe the pierced side.”30 Ilaria Ramelli has no doubts: “the ῥάκος τετράδιπλον had been deployed in all its length, to be laid upon the imperial throne.”31 Maria Grazia Siliato even manages to describe with poetic imagination the emotions that Gregory felt when he saw the fully unfolded sheet, first in solitude “in the gloom of a cell in an Anatolian convent,” then in the imperial palace.32 But this just strengthens the weight of the counterarguments that Dubarle tried to circumvent by denying that Gregory had understood properly the “sindonic” nature of Edessa’s cloth. The whole argument clashes irremedi- ably with the sermon, which speaks consistently and exclusively about a face imprinted on a cloth: it would have taken some nerve for Gregory to deliver a sermon about an object and describe it in a way that had nothing to do with the object that was exhibited right before everyone’s eyes! A sermon that, among other things, addresses Christ himself and ends with the mention of the “crown which the most religious zeal of the emperor places on the effulgence of your face”33: he is referring explicitly to the enthronement and coro- nation of the face of Jesus depicted on the cloth, which took place the evening

29 G. Ciccone – C. Sturmann Ciccone, La sindone svelata e i quaranta sudari, Livorno, Don- nino, 2006, p. 185. According to X. Lequeux, review of M. Guscin’s, The Image of Edessa, in Analecta bollandiana 127/1 (2009), p. 220, the τὸ ἀφ’ οὗ κατεσταλάχθησαν is not referred to the body of Christ but to his face; but it is not clear why the face would be embellished by the drops from the side. 30 G. Zaninotto, “Orazione di Gregorio,” cit., p. 345; see also Id., “La Sindone/Mandylion nel silenzio di Costantinopoli,” cit., p. 469. 31 I. Ramelli, “Dal Mandilion di Edessa alla Sindone,” cit., p. 181. 32 M.G. Siliato, Sindone: mistero dell’impronta di duemila anni fa, cit., pp. 188–194. 33 Gregorius Referendarius, Homilia, 28: τὸν στέφανον ὃν ἡ βασιλέως ἀνατίθησιν εὐσεβεστάτη σπουδὴ τῷ τοῦ προσώπου σου ἀπαυγάσματι. The Translation Of The Image Of Edessa 65 of August 16, 944. There was no recognition of a sheet or deployment of a whole body covered with blood, with a visibly pierced side. In an earlier portion of his sermon, Gregory Referendarius contrasted the unique characteristics of the acheiropoieton image with other man-made pictorial representations; in doing so he described the colors that icon painters use to represent various parts of the face (cheeks, lips, beard, eyebrow, eyes, ears, nose, chin and hair) without making reference to any other part of the human body.34 This is because he wanted to establish a parallelism between two similar objects: the Edessean icon and another icon that, like the first one, bore only the image of a face. It would have been useless to mention any other body part. Emmanuel Poulle recently expressed an opinion that seems to resolve some difficulties. Poulle, while sharing certain positions expressed by some sindonologists, rejects the possibility that the Shroud and the cloth of Edessa are the same object. According to his theory, Gregory wanted to draw a comparison between two different objects: the Edessean image on the one hand, and the Shroud on the other. “There are two distinct relics; one that Gregory Referen- darius has, actually or virtually, before his eyes (“here”), on which the image is produced by the sweat; and another (“there”) on which the image is produced by the blood […]. He posits that there is another cloth, which also bears an image, this time produced by blood.” Gregory, in essence, would be referring to the Shroud, which according to Poulle was already present elsewhere in Con- stantinople. But the text never states that the second object bears an image, nor is there any “allusion to a second imprint of the image of Christ, this time embellished by the drops of the blood of his own side.”35 Gregory merely says (I quote Poulle’s translation) “that from which they were shed was embellished by the droplets from his own side” and that it contains “blood and water.” The blood is not dripping from the imprint of the image but from the martyred body. It seems to me that this is yet another attempt to see a Shroud present

34 Gregorius Referendarius, Homilia, 25: “Painting establishes a complete form with various beautiful colors, representing the cheeks with a blooming red, the encircling of the lips with red, it paints the beard with flowery gold, the eyebrow with shining black, the whole eye in beautiful colors, the ears and nose in a different way, overshadowing the flanks of the imprint with a compound of qualities, and showing the chin with hair.” Translation by Mark Guscin. 35 E. Poulle, “Les sources de l’histoire du linceul de Turin,” cit., pp. 765 and 754–755. I do not share his view that the Shroud was in Constantinople between the tenth-eleventh centuries and the year 1204. About this see A. Nicolotti, “Una reliquia costantinopolitana dei panni sepolcrali di Gesù secondo la Cronaca del crociato Robert de Clari,” Medioevo greco 11 (2011), pp. 151–196. 66 Chapter 4 somewhere, to the extent of imagining that Gregory Referendarius had wanted to allude, as he spoke of the Edessean image, to another relic kept in the same city, but without naming it, thus forcing his listeners into a leap of logic toward an object that is never mentioned in the sermon. At the end of this in-depth examination, it is possible to assess the value of statements such as the following:

The sermon of Gregory Referendarius proves, beyond reasonable doubt, that at the time of his arrival in Constantinople, it was common knowledge that the image of Edessa not only bore the image of the face visible through the opening of the container, but that within it were folded the other parts of a sheet on which the imprint of the entire corpse was to be found.36

In the sermon of Gregory […] it was stated […] that not only the face of Christ was visible, but also the chest with the sign of the spear and the blood gushed out of that wound.37

The Narratio de imagine Edessena

Roughly contemporary to Gregory Referendarius’ sermon is the Narratio de imagine Edessena, a long “Story of the Image of Edessa” composed on the occasion of its translation to Constantinople (944) and ascribed to emperor Con- stantine VII Porphyrogennetos.38 Surviving manuscripts show that the treaty

36 P. Baima Bollone, Sindone, storia e scienza, cit., p. 53. 37 A. Tornielli, Sindone. Inchiesta sul mistero, cit., p. 51. 38 It is wrong to attribute this text to Symeon the Metaphrast, as Emanuela Marinelli proposes, and it is also wrong her general description of the Synaxarium (La Sindone. Testim- one di una presenza, cit., p. 46). In any case, all of Marinelli’s piece on the Synaxarium (pp. 46–48) is in fact mere literal plagiarism of a text published by Mark Guscin (Análisis comparativo, cit., pp. 486–488; most of this text had been, in its turn, published in a sindonological journal, under the title “La Síndone y la Imagen de Edesa. Investigaciones en los monasterios del Monte Athos,” Línteum. Revista del Centro Español de Sindonología 34 [2003], pp. 5–16). Oddly, Guscin is not even mentioned, and his name is also missing from the bibliography. Marinelli is a famous sindonologist, with a degree in Natural Sciences, who has written about ten books on the Shroud and a large number of articles. Apart from plagiarizing others, she is also prone to repeat herself constantly. I have examined four of her books: La Sindone. Storia di un enigma, Milan, Rizzoli, 19983 (first edition 1990, with Orazio Petrosillo); Sindone. Un’immagine “impossibile,” Cinisello Balsamo, San Paolo, The Translation Of The Image Of Edessa 67 was altered over the course of several drafts.39 The edition published by Ernst von Dobschütz, with its rich critical apparatus, allows us to trace, to some extent, the different layers of composition. The more recent edition of Mark Gus- cin is also useful because it is based on a larger number of manuscripts, but unfortunately it is less reliable than that of Dobschütz, because it does not allow for discrimination among the textual layers.40 Bernard Flusin has proposed a reconstruction of the history of the textual tradition of the Narratio:41 from an initial form – probably the work of Con- stantine – now lost (A1), a revised and shortened version was derived, that coincides with the Synaxarium of Constantinople (A2, which Dobschütz identifies

19982 (first edition 1996); La Sindone. Analisi di un mistero, Milan, Sugarco, 2009; La Sin- done. Testimone di una presenza, Cinisello Balsamo, San Paolo, 2010. I have noticed that the pages dedicated to the Edessean image are exactly the same in all four books, word by word, with some minimal variation or inversion of the paragraphs. Pages 45–48 of the first book contain the same words found in pages 79–81 of the second, with the sole exception of one paragraph that has been omitted (this paragraph, in its turn, in what regards the information about Agapius of Manbij and Michael the Syrian, plagiarizes A.M. Dubarle, Historie ancienne du Linceul de Turin jusqu’au XIIIe siècle, cit., pp. 109–110); the third book contains the very same words than the previous ones (pp.33–35) with the addition of some lines of an Italian translation of an excerpt taken from Eusebius of Caesarea, and the last book (pp. 33–36) is all the same, yet again, plus eleven “new” lines that are, alas, a quotation of Ilaria Ramelli’s text, exactly as it had been published on a newspaper, including some words of the comment (“Dal Mandylion alla Sindone, il percorso è storico,” Avve- nire, October 13th, 2009, p. 31). Also the part on the Synaxarium translated by Guscin can be found, word by word, in the book of 2009 (pp. 42–43). Further pages of this book (45– 53) are repeated with exactitude in the book of 2010 (49–58), with some relocation of paragraphs and the addition of 21 lines informing about the new (and false) discoveries of Barbara Frale regarding the Knights Templar. And this can be extended to all of Marinel- li’s books and their chapters. Being the texts always the same I have decided to simplify the footnotes by making reference only to the last book. 39 The overlapping of several compositions of this work make it difficult to establish accurately its authorship, being this, in the past, the main cause of the uncertainties regarding the Constantinean attribution; see, for example, A. Rambaud, L’empire grec au dixième siècle: Constantin Porphyrogénète, Paris, Franck, 1870, pp. 105–111. 40 E. von Dobschütz, Christusbilder. Untersuchungen zur christlichen Legende, Leipzig, Hin- richs, 1899, pp. 38**-85**; 110**-114**; M. Guscin, The Image of Edessa, cit., pp. 7–69. I agree with the criticism of Guscin’s edition expressed by B. Flusin, “L’image d’Édesse, Romain et Constantin,” in A. Monaci Castagno (ed.), Sacre impronte, cit., p. 254, and by V. Kontouma, review of M. Guscin’s The Image of Edessa, in Revue des études byzantines 69 (2011), p. 291. 41 B. Flusin, “L’image d’Édesse, Romain et Constantin,” cit., pp. 253–277. Brief notes also in É. Patlagean, “L’entrée de la Sainte Face d’Édesse à Constantinople en 944,” cit., pp. 22–23. 68 Chapter 4 with the letter 프 and takes from the book of Menaion), which I discuss below. An enrichment of A1 on the basis of other sources, probably a work of Con- stantine’s circle dating between August 16, 945 and March 22, 946, would have started the text that was then merged into the Menologium (B1, as found in Dobschütz’s apparatus), a liturgical book containing a large number of saints’ lives, arranged according to the Church calendar. This menological recension of the Narratio has the additional distinction of containing a Liturgical tractate which describes the worship made to the relic when it was still in Edessa, and a concluding prayer addressed to Constantine and pronounced on August 16, 945. Between 976 and 1004, Symeon the Metaphrast carried out a revision of the Menologium which also altered the section dedicated to the Edessean image:42 the result was the so-called Metaphrastic Menologium (B2, Dobschütz 픅) which in our case, that is, in what regards the events of August 16, coincides with B1, with the sole exception of the Liturgical tractate, which, being considered superfluous, was excised. The “archaeological” story of the miraculous birth of the acheiropoieton image is the traditional one:

The Savior washed his face with water; then wiped the liquid from it with the towel that had been given to him, and divinely caused his own features to be imprinted upon it.43

The compiler of document B was well aware that the majority of sources were faithful to this version of the story, but he includes another version – missing in A, but known to Gregory Referendarius – in order to provide as complete an account as possible. He claims not to be surprised that throughout its history the story has been altered, but he highlights that the two versions, while differ- ing in certain details, basically agree.44 In his own words:

They say that when Christ was about to face his voluntary passion, while showing his human weakness he felt anguished and prayed, when also the Gospel’s tale indicates that he shed his sweats like drops of blood, at that time, they say, after having taken from one of the disciples this bit of

42 Regarding Symeon’s work, C. Høgel, Symeon Metaphrastes. Rewriting the Canonization, Copenhagen, Museum Tusculanum Press, 2002, p. 63. 43 Constantinus VII Porphyrogenitus, Narratio de imagine Edessena, 13, p. 51**, ll. 1–4 (Gus- cin 8, p. 20, ll. 16–18): νιψάμενος ὕδατι τὸ πρόσωπον ὁ σωτήρ, εἶτα τὴν ἀπὸ τούτου ἰκμάδα ἐν τῷ ἐπιδοθέντι αὐτῷ χειρομάκτρῳ ἀπομαξάμενος ἐντυπωθῆναι τὸν αὐτοῦ χαρακτῆρα ἐν αὐτῷ ᾠκονόμησε θείως. 44 Constantinus VII Porphyrogenitus, Narratio de imagine Edessena, 16, p. 53** (Guscin 10, p. 24). The Translation Of The Image Of Edessa 69

fabric that can now be seen, he wiped off with it the streams of sweats; and suddenly this visible impression of that godlike figure was impressed.45

The difference lies neither in the shape of the cloth (a “bit of fabric”) nor in the nature of the image (the representation of the face), but only the occasion and the type of liquid that was involved (the sweat of the face that drips as blood, not the water from a wash). The compiler of the Narratio is keen to stress that the two stories do not differ in substance: in both cases the effect is that “from the Lord’s face the form was miraculously shaped on the fabric.”46 I fail to see how these elements might cause Ilaria Ramelli to say that the Porphyrogen- netos has attributed to the image “the sepulchral character that the Edessean tradition seemed to ignore.”47 Echoing Gregory Referendarius’ sermon, the relic is brought to Abgar by Thaddaeus, not by Ananias:

When [Thaddaeus] was about to appear before him, having placed that portrait on his own forehead, he thus came before Abgar. To the latter, who saw him coming from afar, it seemed to see a shining light which no eye could stand coming out of his face, produced by the likeness laid upon it.48

He admires that light, “feeling the same emotion, although in a different way, as those who saw the gleaming form on Mount Tabor”49 when Jesus was

45 Constantinus VII Porphyrogenitus, Narratio de imagine Edessena, 17, p. 53**, ll. 17–25 (Guscin 11, p. 24, ll. 16–22): ἐν τῷ μέλλειν, φασί, τὸν Χριστὸν ἐπὶ τὸ ἑκούσιον πάθος ἐλθεῖν, ἡνίκα τὴν ἀνθρωπίνην ἀσθένειαν ἐνδεικνύμενος ἀγωνιῶν ὡρᾶτο καὶ προσευχόμενος, ὅτε καὶ τοὺς ἱδρῶτας αὐτοῦ ὡσεὶ θρόμβους σταλάσσειν αἵματος ὁ τοῦ εὐαγγελίου λόγος ὑποσημαίνεται, τηνικαῦτα, φησίν, ἀπό τινος τῶν μαθητῶν λαβόντα τὸ νῦν βλεπόμενον τοῦτο τεμάχιον τοῦ ὑφάσματος τὰς τῶν ἱδρώτων λιβάδας ἐν αὐτῷ ἀπομάξασθαι καὶ εὐθέως ἐντυπωθῆναι τὴν ὁρωμένην ταύτην τοῦ θεοειδοῦς ἐκείνου εἴδους ἐκτύπωσιν. 46 Constantinus VII Porphyrogenitus, Narratio de imagine Edessena, 16, p. 53**, ll. 12–13 (Guscin 10, p. 24, ll. 12–13): ἀπὸ τοῦ κυριακοῦ προσώπου τὴν ἐν τῷ ὑφάσματι ἐκτυπωθῆναι παραδόξως μορφήν. 47 I. Ramelli, “Dal Mandilion di Edessa alla Sindone,” cit., p. 180. 48 Constantinus VII Porphyrogenitus, Narratio de imagine Edessena, 19, p. 55**, ll. 19–24 (Guscin 12, p. 26, ll. 18–22): ἐν δὲ τῷ μέλλειν κατὰ πρόσωπον αὐτῷ ἐμφανίζεσθαι, ἐπὶ τοῦ ἰδίου μετώπου οἷον ἀναστηλώσας τὴν τοιαύτην ἐμφέρειαν, οὕτως εἰσῄει πρὸς Αὔγαρον. Ὁ δὲ πόῤῥωθεν αὐτὸν προσιόντα ἰδὼν κρεῖττον ὄψεως φῶς ἀκτινοβολοῦν ἀπὸ τῆς ὄψεως αὐτοῦ ἐξαλλόμενον ἐδόκει ὁρᾷν, ὃ τὸ ἐπικείμενον ἠφίει ὁμοίωμα. 49 Constantinus VII Porphyrogenitus, Narratio de imagine Edessena, 19, p. 55**, ll. 28–30 (Guscin 12, p. 26, ll. 26–27): ταὐτὸ πάθος παθὼν τρόπον ἕτερον τοῖς ἐν τῷ ὄρει Θαβὼρ τὴν ἀστράψασαν μορφὴν θεασαμένοις. 70 Chapter 4 transfigured and his face was shining like the sun.50 The theme of the shining splendor of the image that emanates from the fabric resting on the face of Thaddaeus is perhaps a reminiscence of the datum regarding Eusebius, that “a great vision (ὅραμα) appeared to Abgarus in the face of the apostle Thaddeus,” invisible to all other bystanders;51 Eusebius, however, on that occasion, referred to the face and not to the Edessean image, which legend had not yet developed. Thus continues the story in the Narratio:

Then [Abgar] took that likeness from the apostle, he placed it reverently on his head, eyes and lips and did not deprive any other part of his body of such a touch. He realized immediately that all his limbs had been miraculously healed, that they had taken a turn for the better and that the leprosy had been cleansed and gone.52

Obviously, the small towel, certainly not a long sheet, could not be lying on the diseased sovereign, but had to be put in contact with the different parts of the body, one at a time. Therefore, this leaves no room for doubt concerning the form and content of the Edessean cloth: elsewhere the text is clearer, as there is a reference to the “semblance of the Lord’s face, not written by hand,”53 where “by a moist secre- tion, with no colors or painting craft, the figure of the face formed onto the linen fabric.”54 Only recension A of the Narratio uses the expression ῥάκος τετράδιπλον to describe the cloth, because it copies directly from the Acts of Thaddaeus; in all other cases it is referred to, generically, as “rag,” “fabric,”

50 Cf. Matt 17,2: “He was transfigured before them; and his face shone like the sun, and his garments became as white as light”; Luke 9,29: “While he was praying, the appearance of his face became different, and his clothing became white and gleaming.” 51 Eusebius Caesariensis, Historia ecclesiastica, I,13,14. 52 Constantinus VII Porphyrogenitus, Narratio de imagine Edessena, 20, p. 55**, l. 31 – p. 57**, l. 6 (Guscin 13, p. 28, ll. 1–6): λαβὼν τοίνυν ἀπὸ τοῦ ἀποστόλου τὸ τοιοῦτον ὁμοίωμα καὶ σεβασμίως αὐτὸ τῇ κεφαλῇ περιθεὶς καὶ τοῖς ὄμμασι καὶ τοῖς χείλεσι καὶ οὐδὲ τ’ ἄλλα τῶν τοῦ σώματος μερῶν στερήσας τῆς τοιαύτης προσψαύσεως, ἔγνω παρευθὺ τὰ μέλη πάντα θαυμασίως ἀναῤῥωννύμενα καὶ τὴν εἰς τὸ κρεῖττον μεταβολὴν εἰσδεχόμενα καὶ τὴν λέπραν ἐκκαθαιρομένην καὶ ὑποφεύγουσαν. 53 Constantinus VII Porphyrogenitus, Narratio de imagine Edessena, 18, p. 55**, l. 2 (Guscin 11, p. 26, ll. 3–4): ἀχειρόγραφον τοῦ κυριακοῦ προσώπου ἐκμόρφωσιν. 54 Constantinus VII Porphyrogenitus, Narratio de imagine Edessena, 2, p. 41**, ll. 8–10 (Guscin 1, p. 10, ll. 5–6): ἐξ ἰκμάδος ὑγρᾶς δίχα χρωμάτων καὶ τέχνης τῆς γραφικῆς ἐναπεμορφώθη τὸ τοῦ προσώπου εἶδος ἐν τῷ ἐκ λίνου ὑφάσματι. The Translation Of The Image Of Edessa 71

“cloth” or “linen.” But the references “bit of fabric” or “towel” definitively describe the modest size of the object.55 When emperor Constantine refers to Jesus’ burial linen, he uses a distinct terminology and does not link this in any way with the Edessean cloth. In the year 958, fourteen years after the translation had taken place, he wrote an epistle to his officers in which he promised to send to the troops a container with water that had been blessed by contact with the relics of Christ preserved in the capital: “the honored woods, the undefiled spear, the honored inscription, the thaumaturgic reed, the life-giving blood flowed from his honored side, the most holy tunic, the sacred bands, the theophoric cloth and the remaining marks of his undefiled Passion.”56 This demonstrates that emperor Constan- tine believed that he had in his possession a series of bands and burial “cloth” or “linen” (σινδών) of Jesus. These objects are entirely distinct from the Edes- sean cloth that was in the same city. Needless to say, it is impossible to know what fabrics these were: in the absence of any sign of recognition, there is no possibility to connect this sindón to the Turinese one, because there is no single mention either of an imprinted image of the corpse or a description of the shape (σινδών, as already said, can mean either a fine cloth, usually linen, or anything made of such cloth). The adjective “theophoric” (that is, “bearing God”) does not at all indicate a fabric featuring an image; rather, this is a traditional epithet of the funeral cloth that “bore” in itself the body of Jesus.57 It is therefore one of many burial cloths that several cities simultaneously claimed to possess. But we know that the Byzantines believed that Jesus was laid in the tomb wrapped in bands: therefore, on Easter Day, in memory of this, the imperial

55 Constantinus VII Porphyrogenitus, Narratio de imagine Edessena, 5 (A), p. 48**, l. 2: ῥάκος τετράδιπλον; 14, p. 51**, l. 11 (Guscin 8, p. 22, ll. 2–3): ῥάκος; 2, p. 39**, l. 20 (Guscin 1, p. 8, l. 16); 2, p. 41**, l. 10 (Guscin 1, p. 10, l. 6); 14, p. 51**, l. 27 (Guscin 9, p. 22, l. 16); 16, p. 53**, ll. 5 and 12–13 (Guscin 10, p. 24, ll. 5–6 and 12); 28, p. 63**, ll. 7–8 (Guscin 15, p. 34, l. 3): ὕφασμα; 21, p. 57**, l. 12 (Guscin 13, p. 28, ll. 10–11): ὀνη; 5 (A), p. 48**, l. 5: σινδών; 17, p. 53**, l. 22 (Guscin 11, p. 24, l. 20): τεμάχιον τοῦ ὑφάσματος; 13, p. 51**, l. 2 (Guscin 8, p. 20, l. 17): χειρόμακτρον. 56 Constantinus VII Porphyrogenitus, De contionibus militaribus, 8: […] τῶν τε τιμίων ξύλων καὶ τῆς ἀχράντου λόγχης, καὶ τοῦ τιμίου τίτλου, καὶ τοῦ θαυματουργοῦ καλάμου, καὶ τοῦ ἐκ τῆς τιμίας αὐτοῦ πλευρᾶς ἀποῤῥεύσαντος ζωοποιοῦ αἵματος, τοῦ τε πανσέπτου χιτῶνος, καὶ τῶν ἱερῶν σπαργάνων, καὶ τῆς θεοφόρου σινδόνος καὶ τῶν λοιπῶν τοῦ ἀχράντου πάθους αὐτοῦ συμβόλων (ed. R. Vári, “Zum historischen Exzerptenwerke des Konstantinos Porphyrogen- netos,” Byzantinische Zeitschrift 17 [1908], p. 83). 57 See also C.M. Mazzucchi, “La testimonianza più antica dell’esistenza di una sindone a Costantinopoli,” Aevum 57/2 (1983), p. 228. 72 Chapter 4 dignitaries would “wrap themselves with splendid loroi, in imitation of the burial bands of Christ.”58 The λῶρος was a long and narrow scarf, adorned with precious stones, which was worn wrapped around the body by the emperor and certain dignitaries.59 This quotation is noteworthy: evidently, in Constan- tinople at the time of Constantine, it was believed that Jesus’ body had been wrapped with long and narrow bands (σπάργανα), and this rules out the possibility of them knowing of a burial cloth bearing an impressed image like the one of the Shroud of Turin, which looks like an imprint left by a naked body that was not wrapped in bands either inside or out of the sheet.60 It is equally interesting to see how four hundred years earlier, also in Constantinople, Ro- manos the Melodist had stated the exact opposite, namely, that Jesus “was not wrapped in bands, but in a shroud.”61 This proves that the assumptions regarding the form of the burial cloth of Jesus were rather varied, and that the arrival in Constantinople of the Edessean cloth had no influence on them.

The Keramion

The Narratio de imagine Edessena dwells on a few episodes of the miraculous reproduction of the image. In one of them, on his way back to Edessa, Ananias stopped to spend the night near the city of Hierapolis Bambyce (today Manbij) where he hid the acheiropoieton image within a stack of tiles that had just been manufactured there. During the night, a fire coming from the tiles alarmed many residents from the city, who rushed to the place and restrained Ananias, who was beginning to search among the tiles.

They found not only what Ananias had put there, but also, on one of the tiles nearby, another impression of the divine copy, the unpainted form

58 Constantinus VII Porphyrogenitus, De cerimoniis aulae Byzantinae, II,52: λαμπροφοροῦσι τοῖς λώροις, εἰς τύπον τῶν ἐνταφίων Χριστοῦ σπαργάνων ἑαυτοὺς ἐνειλίττοντες (ed. J.J. Reiske, vol. 1, Bonn, Weber, 1829, p. 766). Text indicated by P.A. Gramaglia, L’uomo della Sindone non è Gesù Cristo, Turin, Claudiana, 1978, p. 69. 59 Cf. The Oxford Dictionary of Byzantium, vol. 2, New York, Oxford University Press, 1991, pp. 1251–1252. 60 For Constantine, σπάργανα is therefore understood as a synonym of the ὀνια mentioned in the Gospel of John (19,40). 61 Romanus Melodus, Cantica, 40,1: τῷ μὴ ἐν σπαργάνοις, ἀλλ’ ἐν σινδόνι ἐνειλημένῳ (ed. J. Gros- didier de Matons, Romanos le Mélode. Hymnes, Paris, Éditions du Cerf, 1964–1981). The Translation Of The Image Of Edessa 73

having been transferred from the fabric onto the earthenware in a miraculous manner, beyond the [human] mind.62

This is the origin of one of the many other relics venerated in the ancient world: the κεράμιον or κεραμίδιον worshipped at Hierapolis, a miraculous replication of the acheiropoieton image of Edessa which remained in that city until January 24, 967, when it was transferred to Constantinople by emperor Nike- phoros II Phokas.63 But this is not the only Keramion mentioned by the author of the Narratio: he also recalls how, after the death of Abgar, one of his descendants, a successor to the throne of Edessa, had abandoned the Christian faith and returned to a pagan cult. This apostate ruler wanted to destroy the Edessean image made of cloth that had been on display in front of the main gate of the city – the very place where once, before the conversion of Abgar, stood the statue of an idol – so that it was visible to anyone who wanted to enter, but

the bishop of the place, foreseeing this, took the possible precaution; and since the place within which the image was kept had a shape like a cylin- drical hemisphere, he lit a wick in front of the image and placed a tile above. Then, blocking the outer surface with lime and baked bricks, he straightened the wall until [it became] a uniform surface.64

The acheiropoieton image, according to the compiler of the Narratio, after having been exposed to the elements for so many years, was hidden for centuries inside a wall (or in a column or an aedicula at the gate of the city, as it is often depicted). It thus survived, we should add, all the disastrous floods that swamped the city and its inhabitants, tearing down the walls (in the years 201,

62 Constantinus VII Porphyrogenitus, Narratio de imagine Edessena, 14, p. 51**, ll. 24–28 (Guscin 9, p. 22, ll. 13–16): εὗρον οὐ μόνον τὸ ὑπὸ τοῦ Ἀνανίου ἐκεῖσε ἀποτεθέν, ἀλλὰ καὶ ἐν τῷ πλησιάζοντι τῶν κεράμων ἑνὶ ἕτερον ἐκτύπωμα τοῦ θείου ἀπεικονίσματος παραδόξως καὶ ὑπὲρ νοῦν ἐπὶ τὸ ὄστρακον ἀπὸ τοῦ ὑφάσματος τῆς ἀγράφου μεταγραφείσης μορφῆς. 63 Cf. F. Halkin, “Translation par Nicéphore Phocas de la brique miraculeuse d’Hiérapolis,” in Id., Inédits byzantins d’Ochrida, Candie et Moscou, Brussels, Société des Bollandistes, 1963, pp. 253–260. 64 Constantinus VII Porphyrogenitus, Narratio de imagine Edessena, 28, p. 61**, l. 20 – p. 63**, l. 2 (Guscin 15, p. 32, ll. 19–23): ὁ γὰρ ἐπίσκοπος τοῦ τόπου τοῦτο προγνοὺς τὴν ἐνδεχομένην ἔθετο πρόνοιαν. Καὶ ἐπεὶ ὁ τόπος, καθ’ ὃν ἀνέκειτο ἡ εἰκών, κυλινδροειδοῦς ἡμισφαιρίου σχῆμα διέσωζεν, θρυαλίδα πρὸ τῆς εἰκόνος ἅψας καὶ κέραμον ἐπιθεὶς εἶτα ἔξωθεν τιτάνῳ καὶ πλίνθοις ὀπταῖς ἀποφράξας τὸ ἐμβαδὸν εἰς ὁμαλὴν ἐπιφάνειαν τὸ τεῖχος ἀπηύθυνε. 74 Chapter 4

203, 413, and 525)65 and all this time the people would have completely forgotten about its existence! At this point, the story must be reconnected with the tradition started by Evagrius Scholasticus, who established that it was thanks to the relic in 544 that Edessa was saved from the siege of the Persians. But in Edessa, nobody remembered the powerful talisman anymore. It was necessary to stage, during the siege, the intervention of a night vision that appeared to the bishop of the city in a dream, to remind him of the existence of the object and to show him where it was hidden so that he could fetch it. Once he arrived at the door and had the bricks pulled down, the bishop

found that divine image unharmed, the wick that had not gone out after so many years and another likeness of the likeness imprinted on the tile that had been placed in front of the lamp for protection, which is still today kept safe in Edessa. Then, having taken in his hands that divine representation of the God-man Christ, encouraged by a sounder hope, he made his way towards that place where the Persians that were digging had been detected by the noise of the bronze utensils.66

Thus the image, miraculously rediscovered after centuries, was able to defeat Chosroes and his army. In this way, the author of the Narratio managed to justify, with two separate stories, the existence of more than one terracotta tile on which, it was said, the miraculous image of Christ was imprinted. As already noted, an analysis of every description of the acheiropoieton image in the Narratio de imagine Edessena excludes the notion that the towel on which it was depicted could have any element in common with the Shroud of Turin; yet Ian Wilson, who is convinced of a shared identity between the two objects, has managed to conjure sindonologic meaning from this story. Rather than acknowledging the legendary nature of the episode, he formulated a highly implausible explanation: the miraculous tile found by the bishop in the

65 The effects of the many floods are described by A. Palmer, “Procopius and Edessa,” Anti quité tardive 8 (2000), pp. 129–133; cf. P.A. Gramaglia, L’uomo della Sindone non è Gesù Cristo, cit., p. 26. 66 Constantinus VII Porphyrogenitus, Narratio de imagine Edessena, 32–33, p. 65**, l. 16 – p. 67**, l. 5 (Guscin 17, p. 36, 11–18): εὗρε τὴν θείαν ταύτην εἰκόνα ἀδιαλώβητον καὶ τὴν θρυαλίδα ἐν τοῖς τοσούτοις μὴ ἀποσβεσθεῖσαν ἔτεσιν καὶ ἐν τῷ πρὸς φυλακὴν ἐπιτεθέντι πρὸ τοῦ λύχνου κεράμῳ ἐπεκτυπωθὲν ἕτερον ὁμοίωμα τοῦ ὁμοιώματος, ὃ καὶ μέχρι τοῦ νῦν ἐν Ἐδέσῃ τυγχάνει σωζόμενον. Λαβὼν οὖν μετὰ χεῖρας τὸ θεῖον τοῦτο τοῦ θεανθρώπου Χριστοῦ ἀπεικόνισμα καὶ ἐπὶ κρείττονος ἐλπίδος γενόμενος ἔρχεται κατ’ ἐκεῖνον τὸν τόπον, καθ’ ὃν οἱ Πέρσαι διορύττοντες ἀπὸ τοῦ τῶν χαλκωμάτων ἤχου κατάφωροι καθεστήκεσαν. The Translation Of The Image Of Edessa 75

Figure 7 A head of Medusa, Sagalassos, Turkey, Antonine Nymphaeum (161–180 ce). Author’s photo archive.

Figure 8 Walls of the Partian palace of Hatra, Turkey (third century). Author’s photo archive. niche was actually a copy of the face of the Shroud commissioned by King Abgar and walled in front of the city gates. As proof he argues that a parallel can be established with the custom – borrowed from pagan tradition and widespread in the East – of carving or affixing anthropomorphic faces on buildings.67 (Figures 7–8) Wilson also attempts to exploit the story of the

67 Wilson uses as examples a head of Medusa found in the Antonine Nymphaeum in Saga- lassos, Turkey, and the mythological heads on the walls of the Partian palace of Hatra, also in Turkey, all carved in high relief. 76 Chapter 4

Figure 9 A representation of the Edessean niche according to Ian Wilson. Photo: Ian Wilson. unextinguished lamp, denying the clearly supernatural character of the miracle, and conjecturing an explanation he deems more feasible: the story of the lamp became part of the story because, under orders of the apostate sovereign, someone detached the terracotta piece bearing the face of the Shroud from the wall and then replaced it in the same place, but flipped upside down with the face turned inwards. This sacrilegious operation would have taken place during the night, and by force of circumstances, in the light of an ordinary lamp that someone, over time, would have begun to describe as a miraculous, ever- lasting light. Alternatively, Wilson also produced a representation showing the Keramion as a ceramic reproduction of the face of the Shroud, which was placed on top of the folded Shroud to protect it when it was closed within the niche.68 (Figure 9) It is obvious that all of these figments of imagination constitute an attempt to modify the meaning of a legendary text in order to make it acceptable to a modern reader who is not prejudiced against the sindonologic theory, even at the cost of believing fantasies, anachronisms, and forceful adaptations.

68 I. Wilson, The Shroud. The 2000-Year-Old Mystery Solved, London, Bantam, 2010, pp. 132– 134. I thank the author for his permission to use some of his drawings and photographs. The Translation Of The Image Of Edessa 77

The Edessean Cult of the Image

It has been already said that one of the recensions of the Narratio de imagine Edessena – the one that Bernard Flusin calls B1 (the non-metaphrastic Menolo- gion) – contains a part added by someone belonging to the emperor’s circle, who described the worship made to the relic when it was at Edessa. This part, which was probably composed between 945 and 946, was evidently the work not of Constantine Porphyrogennetos, but of someone very close to him. Ernst von Dobschütz intended to publish this text separately from the Narratio, giving it the title of Tractatus liturgicus (Beilage II ℭ), while Guscin, more correctly, put it back within the work in his edition. This so-called Liturgical tractate contains very interesting material, as it describes the way in which, according to the information gathered by the emperor, the Lenten liturgy dedicated to the image was performed in Edessa, before the image was translated to Constantinople. The narration could be authentic, although in retrospect, but also it is not inconceivable that the Byzan- tine compiler made an attempt to validate a contemporary custom by giving it a patina of antiquity. This, however, does not diminish the significance of the information about the object that can be drawn from the text. Having told how the procession and the enthronement of the image were conducted during the first Saturday of Lent, the story dwells on some interesting details:

During the central week of the Holy Lent, on Wednesday, it had been permitted only to the bishop to go and open the chest where it was laid, wipe it with an untouched sponge soaked in water and distribute to all the people what was squeezed out of the sponge, anointing their faces with it; in that manner, they were filled with sanctification. […] And since the ancient chest of the divine form was covered by shutters, so as not to be visible by all whenever they desired, on two days of the week, namely Wednesday and Friday, it could be seen by all the gathering crowd through very fine, studded irons – that among them were called “scepters” – when the windows were opened [or: when the windows were pulled open by very fine, studded irons that among them were called “scepters”]; and everyone, with prayers, propitiated its incomprehensible power, although it was not permitted to anyone to approach, let alone to touch, the holy image with the lips or the eyes.69

69 Constantinus VII Porphyrogenitus, Narratio de imagine Edessena – Tractatus liturgicus, 4, p. 112**, ll. 3–9; 18–27 (Guscin 34, p. 64, ll. 11–15; 23–31): τῇ μέσῃ ἑβδομάδι τῶν ἁγίων νηστειῶν 78 Chapter 4

This story has been repeatedly interpreted through a sindonological lens, to support the argument that the precious relic was inaccessible and therefore no one could see what was actually housed within the chest (supposedly the Shroud folded in eight). The crowd could not see the object directly because the chest was behind closed windows. If the preposition διὰ is understood as “through” or “in the midst of”, it means that the faithful looked through the bars of a grating, but it is unclear whether these were part of the chest or perhaps located in a window inside the church. Instead, if διὰ means “by”, then it can be understood that these irons were held with the hand as scepters and used to open up the doors of the chest. These irons could be “fine” in terms of their size (or “thin”), but also in terms of man- ufacturing, that is, “finely crafted.” Probably they were finely “pierced” or “studded” with gems or nails made of precious metals.70 The opening of the windows took place twice a week, on fasting days, but once a year the bishop not only opened the windows, but also the chest that was in direct contact with the fabric. It is therefore incorrect to say that there was no opportunity for anybody to see the Edessean image: every year the bishop engaged in a close inspection of the relic during which, by completely opening the chest, he could ascertain the condition of the sacred object. Only the repeated sindonologic reliance on a “wanted silence” – a sort of “pious fraud” or “devout conspiracy” – could account for the apparent contradiction between this story and the sindonological hypothesis: why would the bishop, despite being perfectly aware of the presence of a folded sheet in that casket, keep it to himself rather than telling everybody? One should, however, keep in mind that the characteristics of the fabric on which the image was imprinted were well known to the author of the Tracta- tus, who inserted his story within that Narratio in which the relic is described

ἐν τῇ τετάρτῃ τῶν ἡμερῶν συγκεχώρητο μόνῳ τῷ ἀρχιερεῖ εἰσιέναι τε καὶ τὴν θήκην ἐν ᾗπερ ἐπέκειτο διανοίγειν. Καὶ σπόγγῳ ἀνεπάφῳ διαβρόχῳ ὕδατι ταύτην ἐναπομάττειν καὶ τὸ ἐκ τοῦ σπόγγου ἀποθλιβόμενον διαδιδόναι παντὶ τῷ λαῷ, ἐξ οὗπερ τὰς ὄψεις ἐπιχριόμενοι τοῦ ἐκεῖθεν ἁγιασμοῦ ἐνεπίμπλαντο. […] Καὶ ἐπειδὴ θυρίσιν ἡ παλαιὰ τῆς θείας μορφῆς περιεστέλλετο θήκη, ὡς μὴ θεατὴν εἶναι πᾶσιν ὅτε καὶ ἡνίκα βούλοιντο, ἐν δυσὶ ταύταις τῆς ἑβδομάδος ἡμέραις, τετράδι τέ φημι καὶ παρασκευῇ, διὰ τῶν πεπερονημένων λεπτοτάτων σιδήρων ἃ παρ’ ἐκείνοις σκῆπτρα ὠνόμαστο τῶν τοιούτων θυρίδων ἀναπεπετασμένων, ἐβλέπετο μὲν παρὰ παντὸς τοῦ συνεληλυθότος πλήθους καὶ ταῖς εὐχαῖς ἕκαστος ἐξιλεοῦτο τὴν ἐκείνης ἀκατάληπτον δύναμιν, οὐ μὴν δὲ ἠφίετό τινι προσεγγίσαι ἀλλ’ οὐδὲ χείλεσιν ἢ ὄμμασι τοῦ ἱεροῦ προσψαῦσαι μορφώματος. 70 Cf. Ilias, 1,245: Ὣς φάτο Πηλεΐδης, ποτὶ δὲ σκῆπτρον βάλε γαίῃ χρυσείοις ἥλοισι πεπαρμένον (“Thus the son of Peleus spoke, and he cast upon the earth his scepter pierced [or studded] with golden nails”). The scholiasts explain that πεπαρμένον is a synonym of our πεπερονημένον. The Translation Of The Image Of Edessa 79 repeatedly as a small piece of cloth or a towel. At the beginning of the Tracta- tus itself71 it is clearly stated that the person who collected the information on the Edessean cult of the image was emperor Constantine, that is, the very monarch who had participated in the writing of the Narratio and under whose control had operated those who subsequently reworked it: it is impossible to imagine that different interpretations regarding the nature of the fabric could exist within the same text. Most certainly, both the emperor and those to whom he entrusted the completion of his writings were able to closely observe and appreciate the characteristics of the relic: had they found any discrepancy with the tradition, they would not have failed to report it. The Tractatus mentions an “ancient chest” in which the image was preserved in Edessa. The adjective “ancient” led Bernard Flusin to propose that during the translation to Byzantium, or immediately after, the acheiropoieton was located in a “new” casket and had thus been removed from its previous container.72 This would have been yet another occasion in which the object was removed from its casket. The Narratio provides another account of direct observation and close examination of the object, in 944, when the Byzantines went to Syria to translate the relic to Constantinople. At that time, we are told, there were at least three acheiropoieta in Edessa (there was another one, which some have said was in Egypt):73 these were the “original” relic and two copies, all three equally miraculous. The last copy had been made to heal the daughter of King Chosroes. Moreover, all three Christian groups in the city (Nestorians, Jacobites and Melchites) were in possession of their own miraculous image, thus demonstrating how the fake relics were already in competition with each other (a similar thing had occurred with the pagan acheiropoieta).74 Abramios,

71 Constantinus VII Porphyrogenitus, Narratio de imagine Edessena – Tractatus liturgicus, 1, p. 112**, l. 9 – p. 113**, l. 3 (Guscin 31, p. 62, ll. 5–13). 72 B. Flusin, “L’image d’Édesse, Romain et Constantin,” cit., p. 267. 73 Between the end of the seventh and the beginning of the eighth century, Bishop John of Nikiû said that in the first half of the sixth century, the Mandylion was in Alexandria of Egypt: “A Jew, named Aubaruns, had a chest in which were the Mandylion and the towel of our Lord Jesus Christ wherewith he girded himself when he washed the feet of his disciples” (ed. H. Zotenberg, Chronique de Jean, évêque de Nikiou, Paris, Imprimerie nationale, 1883, cap. 91). 74 Eleven copies existed of the legendary Ancile of Numa, said to have fallen from the sky. The copies, it was believed, had been ordered by Numa himself, with the intention of misleading eventual thieves. Due to the abundance of copies of the Palladium, an ancient statue of Pallas Athena – also fallen from the sky in the city of Troy – many Greek cities claimed to be in possession of the real one. Cf. L. Cracco Ruggini, “Oggetti ‘caduti dal cielo’ nel mondo antico,” cit. 80 Chapter 4 bishop of Samosata, was entrusted with the task of examining all three relics, to identify the original and send the other two copies back to Edessa.75 To do so he must surely have opened all three caskets and examined the fabrics closely. If at any of these stages (the examination of the three relics, their trans- portation to Constantinople, their reception by the emperor and the replacement of the casket) the image of Edessa had revealed itself in all its purportedly “awesome nature” as a long funeral cloth, rather than a small towel, the Greeks would have been severely embarrassed. There would have been an irreconcilable contrast between descriptions of the object in sources known in Byzan- tium and the object that they held in their hands. They would certainly have had doubts about its authenticity, or at least they would have had great difficulty in reconciling the identity of this object with the one they expected to receive. And once they arrived in Constantinople, they would not have been able to describe this object using the traditional terms found in the Narratio, including the Tractatus.

The Synaxarium

The other recension of the text (A) of the Narratio de imagine Edessena – always thought to be the work of emperor Constantine and his circle – had more widespread diffusion than the versions examined thus far. This recension ended up in the account of the holiday liturgy of August 16, featured in the Synaxarium of Constantinople.76 A version of this Synaxarium, promoted by Porphyrogennetos and completed between 945 and 959 by the deacon Evaris- tus – his Court Librarian – is attested to by the manuscripts Hierosolymitanus S. Crucis 40 (code H), dating from the turn of the eleventh century, and the Sinaiticus Graecus 548 (code HS) of the eleventh century. Neither of them, though, contains the commemoration of the translation of the image of Edes- sa. References to this translation can be found, however, in the subsequent “mixed” recension contained in the Parisinus Graecus 1587 (code D) of the eleventh or twelfth centuries, and in the Sirmondian Codex, now Berolinensis

75 Constantinus VII Porphyrogenitus, Narratio de imagine Edessena, 40, p. 71** (Guscin 20, p. 42) and 46–47, p. 75** (Guscin 23, p. 46). 76 I follow M. Guscin’s edition, The Image of Edessa, cit., pp. 88–123, to be compared with the editions by E. von Dobschütz, Christusbilder, cit., pp. 38**-84** (Beilage II 프), and by H. Delehaye, Synaxarium Ecclesiae Constantinopolitanae, Brussels, apud Socios Bollan dianos, 1902, pp. 893–904. For the textus receptus, as it is read in the liturgy, see any modern liturgical edition, such as Μηναῖον τοῦ αὐγούστου, Athens, Apostolikē Diakonia tēs Ellados, 1973, pp. 94–95. The Translation Of The Image Of Edessa 81

Phillippicus 1622 (gr. 219) of the twelfth or thirteenth centuries, which is the basis for the edition of the Synaxarium prepared by Hippolyte Delehaye.77 The Byzantine Synaxarium is a collection of explanatory texts, arranged according to the order of the liturgical calendar, to be read daily during the service of the fixed holidays, in order to provide the faithful with information about the festivity that was celebrated on that day.78 In the Church of Byzan- tine rite, the reading of the Synaxarium takes place during Matins, after the sixth ode of the Canon.79 The first part, which is very short, is in iambic verse and consists of four verses that introduce the theme of the festivities of the day: in this case, the holy acheiropoieton image and its copy, the holy Kerami- on.

Onto a linen, while alive, you imprinted your likeness, You, who in death have entered the ultimate linen. A man-made tile bears your non man-made imprint, Oh my Christ, creator of everything.80

77 Cf. A. Luzzi, “Note sulla recensione del Sinassario di Costantinopoli patrocinata da Costantino VII Porfirogenito,” Rivista di studi bizantini e neoellenici 26 (1989), pp. 139–186; Id., Studi sul Sinassario di Costantinopoli, Rome, Dipartimento di filologia greca e latina, 1995, pp. 5–13 and 34; Id., “Precisazioni sull’epoca di formazione del Sinassario di Costan- tinopoli,” Rivista di studi bizantini e neoellenici 36 (1999), pp. 75–91. 78 The Synaxarium contains shorter texts than those of the Menologium. However, the two words are often confused: cf. J. Noret, “Ménologes, Synaxaires, Ménées. Essai de clarifica- tion d’une terminologie,” Analecta bollandiana 86 (1968), pp. 21–24. 79 A diagram of the structure of the byzantine Matins in R.F. Taft, The Liturgy of the Hours in East and West, Collegeville, Liturgical Press, 1993, pp. 277–283. 80 Synaxarium Ecclesiae Constantinopolitanae, stíchoi, p. 90, ll. 1–4 (Dobschütz p. 38**, ll. 6–11): ἐν σινδόνι ζῶν ἐξεμάξω σὴν θέαν · ὁ νεκρὸς εἰσδὺς ἔσχατον τὴν σινδόνα. Ἀχειρότευκτον χειρότευκτος σὸν τύπον · φέρει κέραμος, παντοτεῦκτα Χριστέ μου. Emanuela Marinelli’s translation is as incomplete as it is enigmatic: “Being alive, you wiped your face in a cloth, being dead, you bore a burial sheet” (La Sindone. Testimone di una presenza, cit., p. 47: “Da vivo ti pulisti il volto in un telo, da morto un lenzuolo funerario portasti»). It can be better understood if one takes into account that this part of her book has been plagiarized from a Spanish text by Mark Guscin, which translation from Greek is, precisely: “Vivo limpiaste tu rostro en una tela, un lienzo funerario llevaste de muerto” (Análisis comparativo, cit., p. 487). Further proof of this is that both of them have omitted the adjective ἔσχατον. But what is the meaning of “being dead, you bore a burial sheet?” Knowing that, in Spanish, llevar means “to bear” but also, colloquially, “to wear,” the expression «un lienzo llevaste» can easily be explained: Guscin had chosen to translate the verb εἰσδύ(ν)ω (“to enter,” “to get into”) into “to get into the clothes,” therefore, “to put on” – a better meaning for the simple δύ(ν)ω. Marinelli’s Italian translation of Guscin’s Spanish translation makes it 82 Chapter 4

The poet thus establishes an imaginary contrast between the linen on which the Edessean image was imprinted when Jesus was alive, and the “last” linen – the burial cloth – in which he was deposed. In the following passage, a contrast is made between the man-made tile and the image miraculously imprinted on it by God. An overt contrast between two pairs of different objects is intended, not an identification between them. What follows is the longest narrative, in prose, which has many points of contact with the menological text of the Narratio (B) but also contains material from other sources, especially from the recension in the Codex Vindobo- nensis of the Acts of Thaddaeus: this is the usual story of the legend of Abgar of Edessa and the epistle he sent to Jesus:81

During the days of the venerable Passion of our Lord Jesus Christ [Abgar] having written a letter, sent it with Ananias, ordering him to observe with all accuracy his age, his hair, his face and, in a word, his somatic features, and to report to him such form of Christ: Ananias in fact knew the art of painting perfectly.82

Regarding his somatic features, the expression chosen by the author can be understood both as “in a word” or as “generally, overall”. Whatever the case, it does not suggest “the image of the whole body of Jesus, not only of the face.”83 What Ananias would have had to portray, but could not, was the face, not the body.

harder to understand. In the meantime, Guscin had changed his version: “In life you wiped your form onto a linen cloth, in death you were placed in the final linen shroud” (The Image of Edessa, cit., p. 91). 81 I omit the quotation of the Compendium historiarum of George Kedrenos, who by mid- eleventh century proposed, for this part, a text which is almost entirely similar to that of the Synaxarium. An Italian translation of his account, along with the Greek text, in P.C. Remondini, “Le iscrizioni bisantine del Santo Sudario,” Atti della Società ligure di storia patria 11 (1875), pp. 361–369. R. Van Haelst, Het gelaat van Christus. De lijkwade van Turijn, Antwerp, De Vlijt, 1986, pp. 36–37, makes up a version of Abgar’s legend that does not exist in any of the sources: Abgar arrives to Jerusalem and finds out that Jesus has died, so he takes the Shroud, which the Jewish law forbad to touch, and carries it with him. 82 Synaxarium Ecclesiae Constantinopolitanae, 2, p. 90, ll. 15–20 (Dobschütz p. 42**, ll. 3–9): κατὰ δὲ τὰς ἡμέρας τοῦ σεπτοῦ πάθους τοῦ κυρίου ἡμῶν Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ ἐπιστολὴν γράψας ἀπέστειλεν αὐτὴν δι’ Ἀνανίου, ἐντειλάμενος αὐτῷ τήν τε ἡλικίαν καὶ τρίχα καὶ πρόσωπον καὶ ἁπλῶς τὸν σωματικὸν αὐτοῦ χαρακτῆρα μετὰ πάσης ἀκριβείας ἱστορῆσαι καὶ ἀγαγεῖν αὐτῷ τὴν τοιαύτην τοῦ Χριστοῦ μορφήν· ἠπίστατο γὰρ ἄκρως τὴν ζωγραφικὴν ἐπιστήμην ὁ Ἀνανίας. 83 This is what Marinelli believes, La Sindone. Testimone di una presenza, cit., p. 48. The Translation Of The Image Of Edessa 83

And at once he fixed his eyes on Him, the papyrus in his hand, and copied the likeness of what was shown, but he was not able to grasp His form in any manner, because it manifested itself now with one appearance, now with another, and with a changing view. But the Lord, as he who knows the secrets and scrutinizes the hearts, noticing his desire, asked to wash himself. When this was done, he was given a tetrádiplon rag and, having washed himself, with it he wiped [or: took an impression of] his undefiled and divine face. Then, having his divine form and appearance been imprinted on the cloth, he gave it to Ananias.84

The story is clearly dependent on the Acts of Thaddaeus also in its use of the terminology of the ῥάκος τετράδιπλον, which was later deleted from the menological text (B) of the Narratio. It is clear that Ananias is trying to portray the face of Christ, but cannot do so because the divine face is constantly changing its appearance: this phenomenon can be understood only if it is attributed to the face. The rest of the story is faithful to tradition as well: the healing of the king, his conversion, the destruction of the pagan statue that was located in front of the gate of the city and its replacement with the handkerchief attached to an embellished panel. The ancient shrine of the relic is the same, as well as the inscription that it bears; compared with the Acts of Thaddaeus and the menological text, the only thing missing is the statement that the panel was embellished “with gold,” and that it was “now visible.”85 The stories of the apos- tasy of Abgar’s grandson and of the image hidden by the bishop and discovered –five centuries later – with the lamp still burning and the replicated Keramion, are essentially identical in both the Synaxarium (Narratio A) and

84 Synaxarium Ecclesiae Constantinopolitanae, 4–5, p. 92, l. 16 – p. 93, l. 5 (Dobschütz p. 46**, l. 19 – p. 48**, l. 5): καὶ εὐθὺς ἐκείνῳ μὲν τοὺς ὀφθαλμούς, τῷ δὲ χάρτῃ τὴν χεῖρα προσήρειδε καὶ τὴν τοῦ φαινομένου μετέγραφεν ὁμοιότητα καὶ οὐδαμῶς ἠδύνατο τὴν μορφὴν αὐτοῦ καταλαβεῖν διὰ τὸ ἑτέρᾳ καὶ ἑτέρᾳ ὄψει φαίνεσθαι καὶ παρηλλαγμένῃ θεωρίᾳ. Ὁ δὲ κύριος, ὡς ἅτε κρυφίων γνώστης καὶ καρδιῶν ἐξεταστής, τὴν ἐνθύμησιν αὐτοῦ γνούς, ᾔτησε νίψασθαι καὶ τούτου γενομένου ἐπεδόθη αὐτῷ ῥάκος τετράδιπλον καὶ ἀπεμάξατο νιψάμενος τὴν ἄχραντον αὐτοῦ καὶ θείαν ἐν αὐτῷ ὄψιν. Ὅθεν ἐντυπωθείσης αὐτοῦ τῆς θείας μορφῆς καὶ προσόψεως ἐν τῇ σινδόνι ἐπέδωκε τῷ Ἀνανίᾳ. 85 Synaxarium Ecclesiae Constantinopolitanae, 11, p. 100, ll. 6–10 (Dobschütz p. 58**, l. 9 – p. 60**, l. 2): “Abgar then had this impure and demonic statue torn down and he destined it to utter destruction; in its stead, he raised this divine non hand-made image of our Savior and God, after having glued it onto a board and embellished it, inscribing this on it: ‘Oh Christ God, he who hopes in you does not fail, ever’.” 84 Chapter 4 the Menologium (Narratio B).86 No variation is found in this description of the Edessean relic.

The Liturgical Odes

There are many liturgical texts with which the Churches of the Byzantine rite celebrate the commemoration of the translation of the Edessean image to Constantinople on August 16 annually. So far I have referred to those – mainly in prose – contained in the Menologium and the Synaxarium, both dating for the most part to Constantine VII Porphyrogennetos’ Narratio de imagine Edes- sena. But a series of poems also exist that describe the entire liturgical development of the festivity, and most are now collected in the book of Menaion (μηναῖον).87 A poetic Canon dedicated to the Edessean acheiropoieton, was still in use in 1092, but was discarded and replaced because of the use that Leo of Chalcedon made of it in connection with the dispute over the worship of images:88 in it, however, there is not a single passage that sheds any light on the

86 See, for example, Synaxarium Ecclesiae Constantinopolitanae, 14, p. 102, ll. 5–8 (Dobschütz p. 60**, l. 21 – p. 62**, l. 2); 17, p. 104, ll. 6–9 (Dobschütz p. 64**, ll. 16–19): “Since the place was indeed similar to a cylinder, he lit a wick in front of the divine image and placed a tile above. Then, blocking the outer surface with lime and baked bricks, he straightened the wall until [it became] a uniform surface. […] He found the divine image unharmed, and the wick that had not gone out after such a long time, but also the tile that had been placed in front of the lamp for protection imprinted with another identical likeness of the original.” 87 The text currently in use can be found in any printed modern liturgical edition, for example, Μηναῖον τοῦ αὐγούστου, Athens, Apostolikē Diakonia tēs Ellados, 1973, pp. 90–97. All these texts were presented and translated (not always perfectly) by the archimandrite G. Gharib, “La festa del santo mandylion nella Chiesa bizantina,” in P. Coero-Borga (ed.), La Sindone e la scienza: bilanci e programmi. Atti del II Congresso internazionale di Sindo- nologia, Turin, Edizioni Paoline, 1979, pp. 31–50. Gharib’s approach to the text is sindonological, so I cannot agree with his commentary. It must be said, however, that the author, in a subsequent publication, has changed his mind, clearly excluding the possibility that the acheiropoieton and the Shroud are the same object (in Id., Le icone. Storia e culto, Rome, Città Nuova, 1993, p. 85). 88 Incipit: Ταγμάτων ἀγγελικῶν; edition and comment by V. Grumel, “Léon de Chalcédoine et le Canon de la fête du Saint Mandilion,” Analecta Bollandiana 68 (1950), pp. 135–152. Regarding the dating, G. Schirò disagrees with Grumel, Analecta hymnica Graeca e codicibus eruta Italiae inferioris, vol. 12: Canones Augusti, Rome, Istituto di studi bizantini e neoellenici, 1980, p. 468. This Canon, as those indicated in the following note, is missing in Mark Guscin’s edition. The Translation Of The Image Of Edessa 85 current discussion. The same can be said about other surviving Canons that are no longer in use in the liturgy.89 More useful for our purposes are two Troparia that are part of the long Canon of Matins still in use,90 and probably composed on the occasion of the translation in 944 or shortly afterwards:91

Long ago, a small city prepared for you a reception, Oh Christ; the arrival of Thaddaeus, the writing of your hand and the impression of your face set it free from illnesses.92

Deprived from their strength, the crowd of the Hagarenes has now surrendered to the new Israelite the imprint of your face – as the Ark [was

89 1) Incipit Ἀγάλλεσθε σήμερον οἱ οὐρανοί, ed. A. Proiou – G. Schirò, Analecta hymnica graeca e codicibus eruta Italiae inferioris, vol. 12, Rome, Istituto di Studi Bizantini e Neoellenici, 1980, pp. 163–171. 2) Incipit Ἄνοθεν ἡ χάρις ἡ θεία τὸν κόσμον, P. Plank – C. Lutzka (eds.), Das byzantinische Eigengut der neuzeitlichen slavischen Menäen und seine griechischen Origi- nale, vol. 2: Incipitarium und Edition der Monate März bis August, Paderborn, Schöningh, 2006, pp. 1115–1120. 3) A Canon still unedited, with the incipit Ἀποῤῥήτῳ σου συγκαταβάσει, indicated by E. Papaēliopoulou-Phōtopoulou, Ταμείον ανεκδότων βυζαντινών ασματικών κανόνων seu analecta hymnica Graeca e codicibus eruta orientis christiani, Athens, Sullogos pros diadosin ōphelimōn bibliōn, 1996, p. 262, §838. 4) Incipit Ἀνοίξωμεν στόματα βροτοί, ed. by P. Plank – C. Lutzka, Das byzantinische Eigengut, cit., pp. 1112–1115, and also R. Krivko, “Rekonstruktion der griechischen Akrostichis im Kanon auf das hl. Mandylion,” Wiener slavistisches Jahrbuch 52 (2006), pp. 78–80; it contains this reference to the face imprinted on the cloth (ode 5): “Most great mystery, the present festivity; indeed a light from the face of the Lord shines in the world throughout the God-made form” (Μυστήριον μέγιστον · ἡ παροῦσα πανήγυρις · φῶς γὰρ ἐκ προσώπου τοῦ κυρίου · κόσμῳ προλάμπει · τῇ θεοτεύκτῳ μορφῇ). 90 By rule, the Canon consists of nine odes, but that of the 16th of August has only eight, the second one is missing. This is not surprising: the second ode is often omitted because it is reserved exclusively for Lent, this is the reason why many Canons do not have it. Cf. R. Cantarella, Poeti bizantini, vol. 2, Milan, Vita e Pensiero, 1948, pp. 34–35; E. Follieri, “L’innografia bizantina dal contacio al canone,” in G. Cattin (ed.), Da Bisanzio a San Marco. Musica e liturgia, Bologna, Il Mulino, 1997, pp. 1–32. About the omission of the second ode, L. Bernhard, “Der Ausfall der II Ode im Byzantinischen Neunodenkanon,” in T. Michelis (ed.), Heuresis. Festschrift für A. Rohracher, Salzburg, Müller, 1969, pp. 91–101; T. Kollyropoulou, Περὶ τοῦ προβλήματος τῆς β´ ᾠδῆς τῶν κανόνων, diss., Athens, 1997. 91 Here I follow E. von Dobschütz’s critical edition, Christusbilder, cit., pp. 120**-126**. Dob- schütz publishes only the part of the Canon dedicated to the icon, and not that about the martyr Diomedes, celebrated on the same day. 92 Canon matutini, ode 5 (Dobschütz p. 122**, ll. 7–11): μικρά σοι πόλις ὑποδοχὴν πρώην κατηυτρέπιζε, Χριστέ, ἣν ἡ Θαδδαίου ἐπέλευσις νόσων ἀπαλλάττει καὶ τῆς χειρός σου γραφὴ καὶ θεῖον ἀποσφράγισμα τοῦ προσώπου σου. 86 Chapter 4

once upon a time surrendered] by the foreigners –, Oh Christ, and the glory that it gained; indeed it is not fit for holy things to be thrown to the dogs.93

In both these passages it is clear that the fabric bears the imprint of the “face” (πρόσωπον) of Jesus. Therefore, Ilaria Ramelli’s assertion that this Canon refers to the relic “demonstrating knowledge that it was an image of the Passion of Jesus”94 is entirely incorrect. All other terminology in the rest of the Canon and in the remaining poems are the usual ones: “rag,” “image,” “form,” “figure,” “copy,” “imprint,” “likeness,” etc.95 In 2003, Mark Guscin presented the results of his research on unpublished manuscripts of the Menaion preserved at Mount Athos, some of which contain a passage, unknown in current liturgical texts, that, according to Guscin, stated that the image of Edessa is actually the image of the entire body of Jesus. Gus- cin provided this translation, albeit without including the original Greek text:

Oh Christ, you sent a mystery of wisdom to Abgar. Oh word and wisdom of the almighty Father, untouchable from the eternity, at the sight of the image of your entire body, the king was amazed and acknowledged you as God who had taken on flesh, blood and soul.

According to Guscin, the meaning is “obvious”: “Abgar was looking at the image of Edessa, an image of a whole body.” In addition, since Abgar sees the image and remembers that Jesus had “flesh and blood,” it seems reasonable to Guscin to assume that the author of the hymn “knew that there was blood on the cloth.” He asserts that this must be a reference to the cloth of the Shroud.96

93 Canon matutini, ode 6 (Dobschütz p. 123**, ll. 1–8): τῆς ἰσχύος προσαφαιρεθεῖσα τῶν Ἀγαρηνῶν ἡ πληθὺς ὥσπερ ἐξ ἀλλοφύλων κιβωτὸν Ἰσραηλίτῃ νέῳ τὸ τοῦ προσώπου νῦν προσέτι δέδωκεν ἐκμαγεῖον σοῦ, Χριστέ, καὶ δόξαν ἣν προσεκτήσατο· οὐδὲ γὰρ θεμιτόν, ἅγια κυσὶ προσεπιῤῥίπτεσθαι. 94 I. Ramelli, “Dal Mandilion di Edessa alla Sindone,” cit., p. 180. 95 Canon matutini, Dobschütz p. 122**, l. 30: ῥάκος; p. 125**, ll. 14, 22 and 32; p. 126**, l. 8: εἰκών; p. 120**, l. 17; p. 124, l. 17; p. 125**, l. 28: μορφή; p. 120**, ll. 9 and 17; p. 121**, l. 13; p. 123**, l. 22: ἐκτύπωμα; p. 121**, ll. 5 and 26: ἀφομοίωμα; p. 121**, l. 22; p. 123**, l. 6; p. 126**, l. 23: ἐκμαγεῖον; p. 122**, l. 30: ὁμοίωμα; p. 123**, l. 28: ἐκσφράγισμα; p. 122**, l. 11: ἀποσφράγισμα. 96 M. Guscin, Análisis comparativo, cit., p. 489. This is the original Spanish translation of the text: “Cristo, enviaste un misterio de sabiduría a Abgar. Oh verbo y sabiduría del Padre Todopoderoso, intocable desde la eternidad, al contemplar la imagen de todo tu cuerpo, The Translation Of The Image Of Edessa 87

But direct examination of the manuscript of which Guscin provided a photographic reproduction, immediately challenges his translation. According to my reading, the text says:

Oh Christ, you sent your apostle, a mystery that instructs, to Abgar. Beholding the whole human form of [your] image – Oh word and wisdom of the almighty Father, the unseen God, untouchable before the ages – the toparch was amazed, acknowledging you as God who had taken on flesh, blood and rational soul.97

It is clear that translating τὸ τῆς εἰκόνος ὅλον ἀνθρωπόμορφον directly as “the image of your entire body” is absolutely incorrect (mostly because the word “body” is not found in the text). What the author of the hymn means is that Abgar could see on the handkerchief of Edessa the full anthropomorphic image of Christ, the full human character of his figure, recognizing that Jesus, though he existed in the form of God, had assumed an entirely human nature. Equally far-fetched is the supposed link between the mention of the blood in the hymn and the presence of blood on the Shroud: the poet is making reference to the human characteristics of Christ, whom, as can be read in many ancient and medieval sources, assumed a human form made of flesh, blood and soul. “Flesh” and “blood” are corporeal elements that have always been used in the Judaeo-Christian tradition as synonyms for “mankind/human nature.”98 Here, however, the author calls into question not two, but three elements, because he refers also to the soul: Jesus assumed the flesh, the blood and the rational soul of mankind. If we follow Guscin’s logic we would have to

el rey quedó asombrado y te reconoció como Dios que había asumido carne, sangre y alma.” 97 Codex Iveron 1684, f.85r: τὸν σὸν ἀπόστολον τῷ Αὐγάρῳ Χριστέ, ἔπεμψας μυστήριον σοφίζοντα. Κατιδών σου, λόγε καὶ σοφία, τοῦ παντοδυνάμου πατρός, θεοῦ τοῦ ἀοράτου, ἀναφέστατε πρὸ τῶν αἰώνων, τὸ τῆς εἰκόνος ὅλον ἀνθρωπόμορφον, κατεπλήττετο θεὸν γινώσκων, σαρκὸς καὶ αἵματος, καὶ ψυχῆς νοερᾶς, προσεπηλημένον ὁ τοπάρχης σε (my transcription, from a photograph of the manuscript that Guscin sent to me). Following, Guscin edits the text collating six manuscripts from the twelfth through the eighteenth century (The Image of Edessa, cit., p. 128), where, regarding the spelling of Iveron 1684, he uses παντοδυναμένου rather than παντοδυνάμου, and προσεπιλημμένον instead of προσεπηλημένον. The essence, in any case, does not change. 98 Jesus himself says to Peter: “Blessed are you, Simon Barjona, because flesh and blood did not reveal this to you, but my father who is in heaven” (Matthew 16,17). Certainly, Peter was not stained with blood at that moment! Cf. John 1,13: “They were born not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God.” 88 Chapter 4 believe that the hymn’s author mentions the soul of Christ because he actually saw it on the Shroud. Guscin edited the Greek text and corrected his translation in 2009, replacing and correcting, among other things, his translation of the “image of your entire body” with “the whole human form of your image.” 99 In the meantime, though, the old translation and the incorrect interpretation have met with an enthusi- astic reception among sindonologists who rarely check their sources, especially when they are ancient.

As this discussion has shown, we may safely conclude that none of the Byz- antine texts composed on the occasion of the arrival in Constantinople of the Edessean image, written by emperor Constantine Porphyrogennetos, and reworked under his control, or created and subsequently disseminated all over the whole East – especially for liturgical services – contains any element that might be used to corroborate the hypothesis that the acheiropoieton cloth contained the entire image of a corpse or that it was the burial cloth of Jesus.

99 This is Guscin’s new translation (The Image of Edessa, cit., p. 129): “O Christ, you sent your apostle, a mystery of wisdom, to Abgar. Looking upon the whole human form of your image, Word and wisdom of the Almighty Father, the unseen God, untouchable before the ages, the ruler was amazed, contemplating you as God who had taken on flesh, blood and soul.” The expression “you sent your apostle, a mystery of wisdom” is more accurate, with respect to the earlier “you sent a mystery of wisdom” (previously, I had translated “your apostle, who instructs a mystery” in an attempt to clarify the sense, attributing to μυστήριον the value of direct object); “blood and soul” should be completed into “blood and rational soul.” The Mandylion In Constantinople 89

Chapter 5 The Mandylion in Constantinople

The Name “Mandylion”

So far I have intentionally refrained from employing, in reference to the Edes- sean image, the name by which it has entered history and by which it is mentioned in the vast majority of modern publications: this is because, unlike some erroneous claims for its antiquity, the name “Mandylion” appears relatively late. It does not appear, in fact, in any of the documents prior to or contemporary with its translation into Constantinople in 944.1 In Byzantine Greek, μαντίλιον, μανδύλιον or μανδήλιον (along with many other alternative spellings)2 means precisely “towel,” “napkin” or “handkerchief,” and over time it has come to indicate a small to medium-sized piece of cloth for various uses.3 The origin of the term is the Latin term mantele (mantile) or mantelum (mantelium) which indicated the “manuterge,” which in turn derives etymologically from man-terg-s-lis (manus tergeo).4 The word is also manṭīlīn] or] מַ נְטִ ילִ ין known in Jewish Aramaic, Syriac and Arabic, in the forms

1 B. Frale, The Templars and the Shroud of Christ, cit., p. 112, is incorrect in stating, “In the ancient town of Edessa, present-day Urfa in Turkey, there was worshipped an image of Jesus on a cloth that was said not to have been made by human hands (acheropita); the portrait, always called mandylion (in Greek, ‘hand towel’ or ‘handkerchief’) was the holi- est of objects to the local Christian community.” It is not true that the tradition has “always” called it Mandylion, and it would be wise to remember that before the sixth century there is not a single source that refers to the image as “acheiropoieton.” 2 Μανδίλιον, μαντήλιον, ματτίλιον, μανδέλλιον, μαντήλι, μανδήλι, μανδίλι, μανδύλιν, μαντίλιν. 3 Cf. E. Trapp (ed.), Lexikon zur byzantinischen Gräzität, fasc. 5, Wien, Österreichische Akademie der Wissenschaften, 2005, p. 969: “Cloth (towel, handkerchief, headscarf, pocket-handkerchief)”; E. Kriaras, Λεξικό της μεσαιωνικής ελληνικής δημώδους γραμματείας 1100–1669, vol. 9, Thessaloniki, Sfakianakes, 1985, pp. 333–334: “Napkin (for the hands, for the food); piece of cloth of various sizes, constitutions and uses”; D. Dēmētrakos, Μέγα λεξικόν όλης της ελληνικής γλώσσης, vol. 9, Athens, Domē, 1964, p. 4465: “Regular-shaped piece of fabric that is used in several ways as a clothing accessory for men and women; tissue, handkerchief to blow the nose.” 4 A. Ernout – A. Meillet, Dictionnaire étymologique de la langue latine, Paris, Klincksieck, 1985, p. 385; A. Walde, Lateinisches etymologisches Wörterbuch, Heilderberg, Winter, 1906, p. 366. A. Steiger – H.E. Keller, “Lat. Mantēlum: ein Beitrag zur Geschichte des mediter- ranen Kulturlehngutes,” Vox Romanica 15 (1956), pp. 103–154, follow the history of the term, from Latin to other languages.

ِ ܰܡ ܺܢܕܝܠ .mandīl],7 of similar meanings] َمْنديل manṭūlīn],5 [mandīl]6 and] מַ נְטּולִ ין Despite the geographical origins of the legend, it is unlikely that the first use of this term to indicate the Edessean icon could be attributed to Syriac language authors because the first recorded uses of the term are Greek. The use of this word confirms – as if additional confirmation was needed – the shape of the object in question: this was a handkerchief, a small towel that Jesus would have used to wipe his face. The Souda lexikon of the tenth century bears testimony that μανδήλιον was a term interchangeable with χειρόμακτρον (“cloth for wiping the hands”),8 and toward the end of the eleventh century, George Kedrenos – taking up a passage of John the Lydian dating from mid- sixth century – states that μανδύλιον and ἐκμαγεῖον are both Greek words that describe the handkerchief held in the hands of the Roman mapparius;9 also our sources about the acheiropoieton image play upon the double meaning of the word ἐκμαγεῖον – which means “imprint” (the image) but also “napkin” and “towel” (the support). The function – not only practical, but also liturgical – of the Mandylion was well known to the Greeks: it was used as a ceremonial object during the ordination of subdeacons. The Byzantine ritual, in fact, states that the ordainee places a towel on his left shoulder and holds a ewer and a basin in his hand, all of which serve to wash and dry the hands of the bishop. This towel, in the liturgical books, is called μαντήλιον.10 All proof notwithstanding, sindonologists have endeavored to argue against this unambiguous definition. For example, an attempt has been made to claim that the word Mandylion does not indicate a handkerchief, but a large piece of

5 M. Jastrow, A Dictionary of the Targumim, the Talmud Babli and Yerushalmi, and the Midrashic Literature, New York, Pardes Publishing House, 1950, vol. 2, p. 799; S. Krauss, Griechische und lateinische Lehnwörter im Talmud, Midrasch und Targum, Berlin, S. Cal- vary, 1899, p. 343. 6 R. Payne Smith et alii, Thesaurus syriacus, vol. 2, Oxford, Clarendon, 1901, coll. 2170–2171. 7 Cf. F. Rosenthal, A Note on the Mandīl, in Id., Four Essays on Art and Literature in Islam, Leiden, Brill, 1971, pp. 63–108; Id., “Mandīl,” in P. Bearman – T. Bianquis et alii (eds.), Ency- clopaedia of Islam, vol. 6, Leiden Brill, 1991, p. 402. 8 A. Adler, Suidae lexicon, vol. 4, Leipzig, Teubner, 1935, sub voce: Χειρόμακτρον· ὃ παρὰ Ῥωμαίοις καλεῖται μανδήλιον. 9 Georgius Cedrenus, Compendium historiarum (ed. I. Bekker, Georgius Cedrenus Ioannis Scylitzae ope, vol. 1, Bonn 1838, p. 297, ll. 15–18); Ioannes Lydus, Liber de mensibus, I,12 (ed. R. Wuensch, Leipzig, Teubner, 1898, p.6, ll. 2–7). In Roman antiquity, the mapparius was the officer who, by throwing a handkerchief, gave the signal to begin the public games. 10 See the dispositions of the Codex Parisinus Coislin gr. 213 edited in M. Arranz, L’eucologio costantinopolitano agli inizi del secolo XI, Rome, Editrice Pontificia Università Gregoriana, 1996, pp. 161–162. The Mandylion In Constantinople 91 fabric.11 More often than not, however, explanations dependent on concealment, misunderstanding and ignorance are usually preferred. They posit that the relic was kept folded in a reliquary that was opened infrequently, thus the long shroud would have deceived even those who owned it and its devotees, who, unaware of its true nature, would have mistaken it for a small handkerchief. Some must have seen it, otherwise, sindonologists could not explain the existence of the texts that they believe speak about the Mandylion and allude to its burial cloth form. But those who had seen it in its entirety were few, and they all mysteriously wanted to maintain strict silence on the matter: “deployed in its entirety, the impression had been contemplated both in Edessa and in Constantinople, with silent and maybe indignant emotion. It was certainly shown to a chosen few, in utmost secrecy, since Byzantine art would not show the human body” (sic!).12 According to sindonologic theory, in short, the true identity of the burial cloth would have been kept hidden on purpose from monophysite Edesseans, for theological reasons. What about the dyophysite Greeks? They would also have been kept in the dark, not for theological reasons, but for reasons of artistic nature. Those few in possession of the truth would not have disclosed it. Instead they hid the truth behind mysteriously veiled allusions that, only centuries later, sindonologists would be able to identify within the sources. It seems to me that these explanations are indefensible both from the theological and the iconographic points of view, and they insult the intelligence of ancient Byzantines and Greeks as well as scholars and others from our own time.

Persistence of Converging and Different Traditions

In Byzantine sources written in Greek, the tradition of the Mandylion reached a coded stabilization, but this was not the case in Arabic and Syriac language environments. In 942–943, shortly before the translation of the relic to Con- stantinople, Agapius, Melkite bishop of Hierapolis Bambyce (Manbij) in Syria, described the Edessean image as a colored painting on wood. He thus confirms the persistence of the oldest tradition, corresponding to what is stated in the Doctrine of Addai, ignoring or refusing further developments:

11 Thus, for example, Wilson himself, when he incorrectly states that “the root of both Greek and Arabic terms seems to be the Latin mantile, or mantle, which immediately denotes the size of a coat” (“Icone ispirate alla Sindone,” in L. Coppini – F. Cavazzuti [eds.], Le icone di Cristo e la Sindone, cit., p. 80). 12 M.G. Siliato, Sindone: mistero dell’impronta di duemila anni fa, cit., p. 203. 92 Chapter 5

Ḥannān, who was a painter, after having received the answer of our Lord the Christ – glory be upon him – to his own letter, took a square table and painted our Lord the Christ – glory be upon him – with vivid and beautiful colors; he set out to look at him and to paint his image on that table.13

The testimony of a historian, the so-called “Herodotus of the Arabs” Al-Masʿūdī (†956) is instead rather confusing:

In this church, a Mandylion was kept which was most revered by the Christians, because Jesus the Nazarene had dried himself with it when he got out of the Baptism’s waters.14

No other source refers to this version of the legend. Evidently, Al-Masʿūdī was aware that the fabric of the Mandylion was used by Jesus to dry himself; but it is also likely that, not being a Christian, he was not in possession of any earlier versions of the legend of Abgar. Therefore, as he was not in a position to know the details of the story (namely, that Jesus had washed and dried his face) he may have used the more familiar Gospel episode of Jesus’ baptism when Christ would have needed to dry himself. It is hard to imagine that he would consider setting the story during the Passion primarily because of the traditional Islam- ic rejection of the meaning of Jesus’ death. It should be noted, moreover, that this text does not refer to any human image imprinted on the fabric, be it complete or partial. Perhaps, as Dobschütz suggests, the setting could have been inspired by the observation of some decorative cycle of Jesus’ baptism that involved the presence of the towel. It may also have something to do with the idea that the rich Jacobite Athanasius bar Gumoyē (c. 685–705) had construct- ed a baptistery in Edessa to honor the relic: this might have led someone to believe that the fabric had been used during a baptism.

ت ن ن ,(Book of the Heading – �ك�ا � ا �ل�ع�� ا�) Maḥbūb ibn-Quṣṭanṭīn al-Manbijī, Kitāb al-ʿunwān 13 أ َ ت ب و أ ّ ف� خ ذ نّ ن � ن ّ ن ن خ ذ ً ف� ��ل�م�ا �� ح��ا � ج�وا ب� �ك�اب��ه �م�� سي��د ��ا ا لم��س��ي�� ل�ه ا لم��ج �د وك�ا� �م��صور ا �� لوح�ا �مرب��ع�ا و�صور �ي��ه :pp. 473–474 ّ ح غ ة ة ظ ف ذ ��س��د ن��ا ا لم��س�� ل�ه ا لم�� د ��ا �ص��ا ا ن��ق�� ح��سن�� ع� ��ن�� ا ��ل��ه ��ص �ص ت��ه � � �ل� ا �ل��ل ,ed. A. Vasiliev) ي يح ج ب � ب� ي و ج ل ي ر ي وي�ور ور ى ك وح “Histoire universelle écrite par Agapius,” in Patrologia orientalis 7/4 [1911]). ذ ن � Meadows of – �مر و ج ا �ل�� ه� ب� و�م�ع�ا د � ا جل�و�هر) Al-Masʿūdī, Murūj al-d̠ahab wa maʿādin al-jawhar 14 ق ن ف ذ ن� ة ن ت ظ ن ن ة ن و�� دك�ا� �� ه�� ه ا �ل��ك ��ي��س�� م��دي�� ع��م�ه ا�ه� ا ��ل��صرا��ي�� و�هو ا� :(Gold and Mines of Gems), 29 (p. 331 ي ل ل آ ن ف ا � ش�� ا ��لن��ا ص � ح�� ن خ� �م�ن �م�� ء ا ل�م�ع�� م د �ة ت��ش�� ه ,ed. C. Barbier de Meynard, Les prairies d’or) ي� وع � ر ى ي� ر ج� � � �و ي�� ب�� vol. 2, Paris, Imprimerie impériale, 1863). The Mandylion In Constantinople 93

The Nestorian bishop Elias of Nisibis (†1049), mentions a mandīl that bears the image of Christ.15 More revealing is the account by Melkite historian Yaḥyā ibn Saʿīd al-Anṭākī (†1066 circa), who narrates the deal between Byzantines and Edesseans in 944 and provides a traditional description of the cloth:

They asked the dwellers of Edessa to surrender the icon of the Mandyl- ion, kept in the church of Edessa, with which our Lord Jesus Christ had dried his face and on which the image of his face had remained imprinted.16

Between 1195 and 1199, the Chronicle of the Jacobite Patriarch Michael the Syr- ian bears testimony that the different versions of the legend of Abgar’s image that corresponded to distinct traditions had not always merged in a consistent manner. When Michael narrates the legend of the correspondence between Jesus and Abgar, the image of Edessa is unequivocally described as a portrait made by Ananias; later on he again recalls the image as a painting, of which Athanasius bar Gumoyē had ordered a copy in color from a painter.17 Instead, when he proceeds to narrate the events of 944, he says that the Byzantines were presented with the cloth that Christ had sent to Abgar, and it does seem indeed that this cloth and the previously mentioned painting were two quite different things.18 The discrepancy can be explained by the use made of heterogeneous sources, but is indicative of an overlap of different legends that are

15 Elias bar Šīnāyā, Chronographia, a. 331, ed. E.W. Brooks, Eliae metropolitae Nisibeni opus chronologicum, Paris, e Typographeo Reipublicae, 1910 (CSCO 62* and 63*), pp. 211 (text) and 101 (translation). ت ن ت ذ ا �ل��م��سوا �م�� ا�ه�ل :Book of the Sequel), p. 730 – �ك�ا ب� ا �ل��ي��ل) Yaḥyā ibn Saʿīd al-Anṭākī, Kitāb al-ḏayl 16 ن ف ّذ ف ن ذ ن ا�ل �ه�ا ا د ��ع ا ا ��ل�ه�� ال ��ق� ن�ة ا �ل�� نم��د ا �� ك�� س��ة ا�ل �ه�ا ا �� سّ��د نا ا � �س ا �ل�� م � � �م ه �ه�ه ر � ي�� و ي ��م اي و�� ي��ل ل� ى ى ي� ر ل� ىك�ا� ي �� ي� وع ��س�ي�� س�� ب�� و ج � ف ت ح ةح ف ed. I. Kratchkovsky – A. Vasiliev, “Histoire de Yahya-Ibn-Saʿïd) ��ص�ار� �صور� و ج��ه�ه �ي��ه d’Antioche,” Patrologia orientalis 18/5 [1924]). Cf. B. Pirone’s translation, Cronache dell’Egitto faṭimide e dell’impero bizantino, Rome, Jaca Book, 1998, p. 48. 17 Michael claims to be drawing this information from the Patriarch Dionysius of Tell-Maḥrē (†845), who, in his turn, learnt all this from Daniel bar Moses of Tur Abdin. 18 The Chronicle is translated in J.B. Chabot, Chronique de Michel le Syrien, Paris, Leroux, 1899–1905, tome 1, p. 145 (V,10 [91]): “Letter that the king of Edessa sent to Christ in the 19th year of Tiberius. The man who was sent was a painter, named Ananias, the courier. He fulfilled his mission well and he painted the portrait of Jesus our Lord, which he took to Abgar”; tome 2, pp. 476–477 (XI,16 [448–449]): the Edessean image obtained by Abgar is referred to as a painting, of which Athanasius bar Gumoyē orders a copy in colors; tome 3, p. 123 (XII,3 [553]): “While Edessa was sieged by the Romans, the Edesseans sent ambassadors to the Roman emperor, to tell him that if the army that was sieging them were to go away, they would have given them the precious cloth that Christ our Savior had sent to the faithful king Abgar. The emperor agreed. They gave it to him, and he had the Romans 94 Chapter 5 not always well assimilated: the Edessean object taken to Constantinople seems to have had different characteristics than the ancient picture painted by Ananias. About forty years later, the Kurdish Muslim historian Ibn al-At̠īr (†1233) lim- its himself to a brief description of the traditional Mandylion:

That year the emperor of the Romans demanded from the caliph Muttaqī a Mandylion on which, it is claimed, the features of the Christ had remained impressed when he had wiped his face, and that was in the church of Edessa.19

A few years previously the Damascene historian Sibṭ ibn al-Jawzī (†1257) recalls the Mandylion as a towel for the face of Jesus.20 A much more detailed report is found in the Chronicon ad annum Christi 1234 pertinens, written by an anonymous Edessean around 1240. Thus he narrates the legend of Abgar:

And he, as that who knows the hidden things, asked for water and washed his face, and took a cloth with which to wipe his face; and suddenly, as a great prodigy, the image of his face remained painted in that cloth, as he was, in his own likeness. And he gave the cloth with the answer to the letter to the ambassadors of Abgar.21

As mentioned in the Pseudo-George of Cyprus and in the Acts of Mar Mari, the ambassadors are many. Probably, the presence of the phrase “He, as that who knows the hidden things” means that the Chronicon also knew of the texts in Greek language. What is entirely new is the inclusion of an incident that took place at an unspecified date, while the relic was still in Edessa, before 944:

withdrawn from Edessa and from the city district. It is thought that the emperor himself أ ”.had attacked the Edesseans due to the cloth, and that he seized it ف� ف� ت �خ و��ي��ه�ا �ر��س�ل �م��ل�ك :The Complete History), p. 176 – ا � �ل�ك�ا�م�ل �� ا ��ل��اري ) Ibn al-At̠īr, Al-kāmil fī al-tārīẖ 19 ق ً ز أ ن ي ف � ة ف أ ف ة ا�ل �م � ل ا �ل��تم�� ل��ل�ه ��ط��ل� � نم��د ��ا �ع�� ا �ل��م��س�� م��س�� ه ��ه�ه، ��ص�ا ت� �ص � ��ه�ه ��ه، �ن��ه � ��ع�� ا �ل �ه�ا رو إى ي� ي ب� يل � م � يح ح ب و ج � � ر ور و ج � ي و ي� بي ر .(vol. 7, Beirut, Dār al-kutub al-ʿilmiyyah, 1987 ,آed. Abū al-Fidāʾ ʿAbdallāh al-Qāḍī) ة ز ن Mirror of Time) is not yet entirely edited. A French – �مر� � ا�ل��م�ا �) His work Mirʾāt al-zamān 20 translation of the part that concerns us is reported in A.A. Vasiliev, Byzance et les Arabes, tome 2/1: La dynastie macédonienne, Brussels, Fondation byzantine, 1968, p. 174. ܵ ܿ 21 Chronicon ad annum Christi 1234 pertinens, vol. 1, p. 122: ܥܒܬܼ .ܐܬܼ ܝܣܟ ܥܕܝ ܟܝܐܘ ܐܢܕܥܒ ܗܒܘ .ܗܦܘܨܪܦ ܪܦܟܡ ܟܝܐ ܐܦܫܘܫ ܒܣܢܘ .ܝܗܘܦܐܵ ܓܝܫܐܘ ܐܝܡܵ .ܗܬܘܡܕܒܘ ܗܬܘܟܐ ܆ܘܗܿ ܐܦܫܘܫܒ ܗܦܘܨܪܦܕ ܐܢܩܘܝ ܪܝܨܬܬܐ ܐܬܒܪ ܐܬܪܘܡܕܬܒ ̈ ܿ ܀ܪܓܒܐܕ ܝܗܕܓܙܝܐܠ ܐܬܪܓܐܕ ܐܝܢܘܦ ܡܥ ܐܦܫܘܫܠ ܗܒܗܝܘ (ed. I.B. Chabot, Chro- nicon ad a. C. 1234 pertinens, Paris, e Typographeo Reipublicae, 1920 [CSCO 81]). The Mandylion In Constantinople 95

It happened that a man of the East22 was in Edessa. He cunningly waited some time until he found the opportunity to steal from a church that Mandylion that had been sent by our Lord to Abgar, so that it would be kept in a church in Edessa. Having taken it, in the evening he went out of the south gate of the city and spent the night in this monastery of St. Cosmas. But the Mandylion filled his chest as if it were [made] of fire and burned him. Then, when he was distressed, he pulled it out of his chest and, frightened, tossed it into this deep well that was in the monastery.23

Pier Angelo Gramaglia and Jean Maurice Fiey have closely examined this text, both coming to the conclusion that for this Chronicle, the Mandylion of Edessa was a relatively small cloth that only bore the image of Christ’s face: a handkerchief that could be easily hidden under garments.24 The terminology used is twofold: on the one hand, the term ܐܦܫܘܫ [šušeppā], “napkin” or “handkerchief,” which could be the original name of what in the Greek tradition was called ῥάκος. According to Drijvers, this was the name that the author of the Chronicle found in his sources, to which he added the other, that of mandīl, more prevalent in his time.25 According to Fiey, the use of the name of Jesus in the Syriac form Īšō‛ rather than in the Arabic form ‛Īšā, denotes a source of Syriac origin. Still, the data drawn from Syriac sources do not always agree on one essential point: for some of them, the Edessean image is a painting, for others, it is a non man-made object. An attempt to reconcile the two clashing views was

22 That is, in the West-Syrian language, a Jacobite of the Eastern province of the patriarchate of Antioch. 23 Chronicon ad annum Christi 1234 pertinens, vol. 2, p. 135: ܐܝܚܢܕܡ ܫܢܐ ܢܒܙܒ ܢܝܕ ܐܘܗ ܐܠܝܕܢܡܠ ܗܒܢܓܿ ܐܪܬܐ ܗܠ ܚܟܫܐܕ ܐܡܕܥ ܆ܐܢܒܙ ܢܟܛܬܐ ܕܟܘ .ܝܗܪܘܐܒ ܒܝܛܬܐ ܿ ܿ ܕܟܘ .ܝܗܪܘܐܕ ܐܬܕܥܒ ܬܘܗ ܐܪܝܛܢܕ ܇ܪܓܒܐܠ ܢܪܡ ܢܡ ܬܪܕܬܫܐܕ ܝܗܿ :ܐܬܕܥ ܢܡ ܝܪܡܕ ܐܕܗ ܐܪܝܕܒ ܬܒܘ .ܐܫܡܪ ܢܕܥܒ ܐܬܢܝܕܡܕ ܐܝܢܡܝܬ ܐܥܪܬܒ ܩܦܢ ܗܒܣܢܿ ܼ ܿ ܕܟܘ .ܗܠ ܬܘܗ ܐܕܩܘܡܘ ܐܪܘܢ ܟܝܐ ܗܒܘܥܒ ܐܠܝܕܢܡ ܝܗܿ ܬܘܗ ܐܝܠܡܘ .ܐܡܙܘܩ ܿ ܿ ܐܪܝܕܒܕ ܐܬܩܝܡܥ ܐܕܗ ܐܪܐܒܒ ܗܕܫ ܗܬܠܚܕ ܢܡܘ .ܗܒܘܥ ܢܡ ܗܩܦܐ ܨܠܬܐ (ed. I.B. Chabot, Anonymi auctoris Chronicon ad a. C. 1234 pertinens, Paris, e Typographeo Reipublicae, 1916 [CSCO 82]). The well here mentioned would still exist in Edessa: cf. F. Dell’Acqua, “L’acqua nella memoria sacra di Edessa attraverso la cornice del Mandylion di Genova,” in R. Morosini – C. Lee (eds.), Sindbad mediterraneo. Per una topografia della memoria, da Oriente a Occidente, Lecce, Pensa Multimedia, 2013, pp. 78–89. 24 P.A. Gramaglia, L’uomo della Sindone non è Gesù Cristo, cit., pp. 25–26; Id., “La Sindone di Torino: alcuni problemi storici,” cit., pp. 530–531; J.M. Fiey, “Image d’Édesse ou Linceul de Turin,” Revue d’histoire ecclésiastique 82/2 (1987), pp. 274–275. 25 H.J.W. Drijvers, “The Image of Edessa,” cit., pp. 23–24. 96 Chapter 5 made by the Syrian Bishop Gregory said Bar-ʿEbrāyā (Bar-Hebraeus), who in 1286 published a modified version of his Chronicle in Arabic:

When Ḥannān had got the answer from Christ, looking at him he painted his picture on the Mandylion – he was in fact a painter – took it to Edessa and handed it to Abgar the Black. It was said that Christ had used that Mandylion when he wiped his face, and his image remained imprinted.26

Gregory thus carries out a simplistic fusion of the two different traditions. This shows once again that, outside of the Byzantine tradition, the legend of the image of Edessa did not undergo a linear process of change. Instead, heterogeneous descriptions of the same relic continued to live together, both before and after the translation of the object to Constantinople. Some kept the older tradition, which described the image of Edessa as a color painting done by a painter, while others espoused the more recent tradition that spoke of an acheiropoieton. By the end of the thirteenth century, the need arose to reconcile the two versions. Since this evidence has often been overlooked, probably because scholars are more accustomed to dealing with the Greek sources, it is necessary to state this in the clearest manner: the oldest version of the legend, the one attested by the Doctrine of Addai, was never entirely superseded by the newer version of the Acts of Mar Mari. That, as already stated, in the city of Edessa there were at least three competing images, probably each different from the other, may in part explain these discrepancies. The only point on which the sources on the Edessean image agree is about the image on the cloth: this showed a portrait of the face of Jesus, either painted or imprinted. Not a single writer references the folded burial cloth mentioned by the sindonologists.

An Elusive Vision

On the festival of the Dormition of Mary, August 15, 944, the Mandylion, from Edessa, was received in the church of St. Mary of Blachernae, which stood near the imperial palace of the same name in the northwestern part of

ت��ا �خ م�خ�ت��ص ا �ل�د -Compendious History of Dynas – ري� � ر ول) Abū al-Faraj, Tārīẖ muh̠taṣar al-duwal 26 ف� خ ذ ن ن �ل ن ن ظ ّ ت ف� ن ن ُ ��ل�م�ا ا�� ح��ا �َ ا ج�وا ب� �م�� ا لم��س��ي�� ج��ع�ل �ي��ر ا ��لي��هِ و�ي��صور �صور��ه �� م��دي��ل لا ��ه :ties), pp. 112–113 ن ً أت ُّ فح ق ن ي ت ذ ً ك�ا �م��صّ � � ��ه ا ل ا�ل �ه�ا د ��ع�هُ ا ل ا� الا ��س د. �� ا ا لم��س�� من��د �� ل� ا لمن��د �� م�ا ��س�ح�ا ��ه � �ورﺍ و ى بِ ى ر و ى بج ر و و يل � يح ل ب ك يل بِ ُ ف نتق ش ت ف ت .(ed. A. Ṣālḥānī, Beirut, Catholic Press of the Jesuit Fathers, 1890) و ج��ه�ه ��ا �� ي��ه �صور��ه The Mandylion In Constantinople 97

Constantinople, overlooking the estuary known as the “Golden Horn.” For the occasion, emperor Romanos Lekapenos, his sons Constantine and Stephen, and his son-in-law Constantine the Porphyrogennetos – the future emperor – had gathered. The so-called Chronography of Pseudo-Simeon, a text dating from the late tenth century, describes the visit by all three men and the monk Sergios, great-grandson of Photios and advisor to Romanos. All had the opportunity to inspect the relic upon its arrival to the city:

While they all examined the undefiled features in the holy imprint of the Son of God, the sons of the emperor said not to see anything but a face; the son-in-law Constantine, instead, said to see the eyes and ears. The famous Sergios told them: “Both of you see well.” But they contradicted: “And what does it mean the difference between us and him?” He answered: “Not me, but David the prophet says: The Lord’s eyes are on the righteous, and his ears are toward their petition. But the Lord’s face is against evildoers, to destroy the remembrance of them from Earth.”27

As noted by Pier Angelo Gramaglia, “the discussion is always and only about the details of the face,” including the eyes and ears: there is no mention of other parts of the body imprinted on the cloth and, on the occasion of this inspection, “no one ever found a long sheet”: the verb καθιστορέω does “indicate that it was an inspection and no longer a simple act of worship.”28 It is impossible to imagine that the careful examination of the object would not have revealed that its appearance, size, or iconography differed from what was expected. It is striking that in the episode both brothers were unable to see all that Porphyrogennetos could. Steven Runciman wondered if it was possible that the two young men were drunk, as they usually were,29 but he concluded that

27 Pseudo Symeon Magister, Chronographia, 52: πάντων καθιστορούντων τὸν ἄχραντον χαρακτῆρα ἐν τῷ ἁγίῳ ἐκμαγείῳ τοῦ υἱοῦ τοῦ θεοῦ, ἔλεγον οἱ υἱοὶ τοῦ βασιλέως μὴ βλέπειν τι ἢ πρόσωπον μόνον, ὁ δὲ γαμβρὸς Κωνσταντῖνος ἔλεγεν βλέπειν ὀφθαλμοὺς καὶ ὦτα. Πρὸς οὓς καὶ εἶπεν ὁ ἀοίδιμος Σέργιος καλῶς ἀμφότεροι εἴδετε. Οἱ δὲ ἀντέφησαν καὶ τί σημαίνει ἑκάστου τούτου ἡ διαφορά; ἀπεκρίθη οὐκ ἐγὼ ἀλλὰ Δαβὶδ ὁ προφήτης λέγει, ὀφθαλμοὶ κυρίου ἐπὶ δικαίους, καὶ ὦτα αὐτοῦ εἰς δέησιν αὐτῶν, πρόσωπον δὲ κυρίου ἐπὶ ποιοῦντας κακὰ τοῦ ἐξολοθρεῦσαι ἐκ γῆς τὸ μνημόσυνον αὐτῶν (ed. I. Bekker, Theophanes Continuatus, Ioannes Cameniata, Symeon Magister, Georgius Monachus, Bonn, Weber, 1838, pp. 750–751). The biblical quotation is Ps 33 (34), 16–17. 28 P.A. Gramaglia, “La Sindone di Torino: alcuni problemi storici,” cit., p. 541 and note 77. 29 Remembered also by T. Humber, The Sacred Shroud, New York, Pocket Books, 1978, p. 87: “Lest I be accused of forcing a comparison with the Shroud Image here, it must be 98 Chapter 5

“more probably one needed the intense faith that characterized Constantine to decipher the divine features.”30 This explanation agrees with the monk Ser- gios’ reply, who – the story continues – because of his critical response was disliked by the brothers from that moment onward. Sindonologists have instead attempted to relate this episode to the Turin relic (a fruitless endeavor, if only because the image of the man on the Shroud has no ears). However, they have proposed a “curious optical property,” by which the image imprinted on the relic would be visible “only if one stands at least two meters away from it.”31 We should therefore imagine the surreal scene of Constantine who, in order to see the portrait, stood more than two meters away from it, while the sons of the emperor stubbornly insisted on observing it closely. This sindonologic reconstruction is both bizarre and misleading: the portrait could have faded or have blurred outlines, but – most importantly – it was accessible only spiritually and it was perceivable only by those who were worthy. A similar episode is also found in the Life of St Paul the Younger of Mount Latros (written between 969 and 975), where reference is made to a copy of the image of the Christ of Edessa, obtained by laying a piece of cloth over the original image: one of several “authentic” copies, one of those “imprints” in which “lives the paradox of the coexistence of uniqueness and imitation, of the matrix and its infinite generation, that does not diminish the authority of the model.”32 Paul was the only one able to distinguish the facial image that was created on the copy. Moreover, he had asked

that on the acheiropoieton image of Christ, which is usually called holy Mandylion, be laid on a piece of linen of exactly the same dimensions, and that it be sent to him afterwards. It happened what had been requested according to his intention, and it was sent there. Once opened, the image of Christ was clearly visible to the saint, modeled with accuracy, and the impression of the impression was perfectly executed; to the others, instead, absolutely nothing of the sort was visible.33

acknowledged that all of the young men were notorious drunks, and it might well have been their vision that was ‘extremely blurred’.” 30 S. Runciman, “Some Remarks on the Image of Edessa,” cit., p. 250. 31 B. Frale, The Templars and the Shroud of Christ, cit., p. 130. A similar explanation is found in I. Wilson, The Shroud. The 2000-Year-Old Mystery Solved, cit., p. 165. See also D.C. Scavone, The Shroud of Turin. Opposing Viewpoints, San Diego, Greenhaven Press, 1989, p. 86, and K. Dietz, “Das Turiner Grabtuch. Zum Bilderstreit in unserer Zeit,” Mut. Forum für Kultur, Politik und Geschichte 332 (1995), p. 84. 32 L. Canetti, “‘Vestigia Christi.’ Le orme di Gesù fra Terrasanta e Occidente latino,” in A. Monaci Castagno (ed.), “Sacre impronte e oggetti ‘non fatti da mano d’uomo,” cit., p. 155. 33 Vita S. Pauli Iunioris, 37: ὥστε τῇ ἀχειροποιήτῳ τοῦ Χριστοῦ εἰκόνι, ἣν σύνηθες μανδήλιον ὀνομάζειν ἅγιον, ἐπιτεθῆναι ταύτῃ μέρος ὀνης ἰσόμηκες ἀκριβῶς, εἶτα καὶ παρ’ αὐτὸν The Mandylion In Constantinople 99

What Paul could see and others could not, in this case, was not the image of Edessa, but its copy, miraculously manufactured (on an equally small “piece of linen”). This illustrates that in this type of story, what was tested was not the real and tangible visibility of the acheiropoieton image, but the spiritual quality of those who beheld it: that was what could make the face of Christ visible or invisible, be it the original or a copy.

The Preservation of the Mandylion in Byzantium

After spending a night in the sanctuary of Blachernae, the next day, August 16 – Festival of Martyr Diomedes and memory of the liberation of the Arab siege of 718 – the Mandylion was solemnly transferred to the great imperial palace on the opposite side of town (the Bucoleon). This was the occasion in which Gregory Referendarius delivered his sermon, when the relic was solemnly enthroned in the hall of the chrysotriklinos. For some time, the Mandylion was kept near the monumental gate of the grand palace of the city, in the church of the Savior at the Chalke, expressly built by Romanos Lekapenos to host the acheiropoieton.34 Later on, with the ascent to the throne of Constantine VII Porphyrogennetos, the translation into the Chapel of the Mother of God of the Pharos (the Θεοτόκος τοῦ Φάρου) took place inside the palace itself.35 The

ἐκπεμφθῆναι τοῦτο. Γίνεται οὖν τὸ αἰτηθὲν κατὰ γνώμην αὐτῷ, κἀκεῖσε πέμπεται· ὅπερ ὑφαπλωθὲν τῷ μὲν ἁγίῳ ἐβλέπετο καθαρῶς τὴν τοῦ Χριστοῦ εἰκόνα ἐπ’ ἀκριβείας ἀναμαξάμενον, καὶ τοῦ τύπου τύπος ἐπ’ ἄκρον γενόμενον· τοῖς δὲ ἄλλοις οὐδὲν τοιοῦτον οὐδαμῶς ὡρᾶτο (ed. H. Delehaye, in T. Wiegand [ed.], Der Latmos, Berlin, Reimer, 1913; also in E. von Dob- schütz, Christusbilder, cit., p. 216*). 34 Thus E. Baldwin Smith, Architectural Symbolism of Imperial Rome and the Middle Ages, Princeton, Princeton University Press, 1956, p. 138, and S.G. Engberg, Romanos Lekapenos and the Mandilion of Edessa, in J. Durand – B. Flusin (eds.), Byzance et les reliques du Christ, cit., pp. 123–142. 35 About the Chapel of the Pharos, J. Ebersolt, Le grand palais de Constantinople et le livre des ceremonies, Paris, Leroux, 1910, pp. 104–109; Id., Sanctuaires de Byzance. Recherches sur les anciens trésors des églises de Constantinople, Paris, Leroux, 1921, pp. 17–30; R. Guilland, “L’église de la Vierge du Phare,” Byzantinoslavica 12 (1951), pp. 232–234; S. Miranda, Les palais des empereurs byzantins, Mexico, Imprimerie du Journal Français, 1965, pp. 104–107; R. Janin, La géographie ecclésiastique de l’Empire byzantin, partie 1, t. 3: Les églises et les monastères, Paris, Institut français d’études byzantines, 1969, pp. 232–236; H. Maguire (ed.), Byzantine Court Culture from 829 to 1204, Washington, Dumbarton Oaks, 1997, pp. 55–57; A. Lidov, “A Byzantine Jerusalem.The Imperial Pharos Chapel as the Holy Sep- ulchre,” in A. Hoffmann – G. Wolf (eds.), Jerusalem as Narrative Space, Leiden, Brill, 2012, pp. 63–104. 100 Chapter 5

chapel was a small but exquisite building, probably built by mid-eighth century, located near the chrysotriklinos and the apartments of the king. Unlike other churches that contained relics from disparate origins, the treasure of the chapel of the Pharos did not result from a random accumulation of objects, rather, it was the result of deliberately acquiring a collection of Christ’s relics. Paul Magdalino dubbed this collection of relics of the Passion a “monopoly of the Church of Pharos,” an attempt to “conjure up, for the Byzantines of the twelfth century, the imperial momentum that belonged to the past, the nostal- gia of a Jerusalem that was a possession of the Western Christians.”36 The treatise De cerimoniis, which was intended to describe the regulation of the sacred functions as they were carried out (or ought to be carried out) in the tenth century, supplies important information regarding the use of the Chapel of the Pharos. Its function was to link the emperor to the commemoration of Christ’s Passion, and even before the arrival of the Mandylion, it was associated with the solemn exhibition of the relics of the cross and the holy spear. In this church, served by clergy employed by the emperor, the monarch attended numerous ceremonies and celebrated his own wedding, creating a strong and enduring connection between himself and the relics in the private chapel. In 1204 when the city was occupied by the Crusaders, the chapel passed into the hands of the Latin clergy and, as well as the church of Blachernae, it remained under the rule of the Holy See. It was probably in this church that Baldwin, Count of Flanders and Hainaut, was consecrated emperor. A number of witnesses listed the relics contained in the chapel, among which were those of the Passion and those from Edessa, including the Man- dylion, the Keramion and Christ’s letter to King Abgar. An anonymous West- erner (“of Tarragona”), probably between the years 1075 and 1099, who had the opportunity for an extended stay in Constantinople while attending a Greek language school at St. Sophia, describes the Mandylion in the following manner:

36 P. Magdalino, “L’église du Phare et les reliques de la Passion à Constantinople (VIIe/VIIIe- XIIIe siècles),” in J. Durand – B. Flusin (eds.), Byzance et les reliques du Christ, cit., p. 25. See also B. Flusin, “Construire une nouvelle Jérusalem: Constantinople et les reliques,” in M.A. Amir-Moezzi – J. Scheid (eds.), L’Orient dans l’histoire religieuse de l’Europe: l’invention des origines, Turnhout, Brepols, 2000, pp. 51–70; M. Bacci, “Relics of the Pharos Chapel: A Wiew from the Latin West,” in A. Lidov (ed.), Восточнохристианские рели квии – Eastern Christian Relics, Moscow, Progress-Traditsija, 2003, pp. 234–248; H.A. Klein, “Sacred Relics and Imperial Ceremonies at the Great Palace of Constantinople,” in F.A. Bauer (ed.), Visualisierungen von Herrschaft. Frühmittelalterliche Residenzen – Gestalt und Zeremoniell, Istambul, Yayinlari, 2006, pp. 79–99. The Mandylion In Constantinople 101

In the same glorious city there is the effigy of the visage of our Lord Jesus Christ on a small linen cloth, made by himself, as the Greeks tell, in this way. The above-mentioned king Abgar of the city of Edessa burned with unrestrainable desire of seeing the glorious face of the Lord. Jesus, coming to know of the desire of the king, took a linen cloth, wrapped his face with it, and the form and effigy of his face remained on the linen cloth. Therefore in that manner the Savior sent to king Abgar his own face depicted on the linen cloth, so that he could see how his visage was like. This most precious linen cloth, engraved by the visage and the touch of the Lord Jesus, is kept in the palace with higher reverence than the other relics, is preserved most diligently so as to keep it always closed in a gold vessel, and properly locked. And while all the other relics of the palace are shown to the faithful, each in its own time, this linen cloth, in which the depicted visage of our Redeemer is contained, is not shown to anyone, is not open to anyone, not even to the emperor of Constantinople himself. In fact, in the time when that vessel, where such a sacred object was [contained], was kept open, all the city started to be shaken by an endless earthquake and everyone started to be threatened with an immi- nent death. It was announced by a heavenly vision that such a great evil for that city would not have ceased, until that linen cloth that contained the effigy of the visage of the Lord was hidden, closed and taken away from the sight of men. And so it was done: once closed that holy cloth in a golden vessel, and diligently locked, also the earthquake ceased and all the badness of heaven was appeased. From that moment on, nobody dared to open that vessel or to look at what was inside, because everyone believed and feared that all things would be shaken by the earthquake if they thought of opening it.37

37 Anonymus Tarragonensis, De Constantinopoli civitate, 53–74: “Est in eadem civitate gloriosa figura [ms. figure] Domini nostri Ihesu Christi vultus ab eodem in linteolo, ut aiunt Greci, hoc modo compositus. Supradictus Abgarus rex Adesse civitatis [ms. civitati] nimio estuabat desiderio videndi preclaram faciem Domini. Cognito Ihesu desiderio regis accepit linteum et involuit faciem suam ex eo et remansit forma et figura vultus eius in linteo. Sic ergo figuratam faciem in linteo suam Salvator transmisit regi Abgaro, ut ibi conspiceret qualis eius vultus esset. Hoc linteum preciosissimum Domini Ihesu vultu et attactu insignitum maiori pre ceteris reliquiis in palatio veneracione observatur, maiori diligentia tenetur ita ut semper sit clausum aureo vase et obfirmatum diligentissime. Et cum cetere omnes reliquie palacii cunctis quibusque temporibus ostendantur fidelibus, istud linteum in quo continetur nostri Redemptoris vultus figuratus nulli demonstratur, nulli aperitur, nec ipsi Constantinopolitano imperatori. Quodam enim tempore apertum habebatur illud vas ubi tam sancta res erat et assiduo terremotu civitas omnis cepit 102 Chapter 5

The Mandylion is called linteolum, that is, “small linen cloth” or “handkerchief,” evidently a Latin translation of the word μανδύλιον. The author notes several times that it contained the image of the face of Jesus. The story of the earthquake is not recorded in any other source; could it be a variant of the event that occurred during the reign of Michael IV, when the Mandylion was brought out of the Chapel of the Pharos, provoking the arrival of a storm?38 An anonymous author who wrote in Latin (known as “Anonymous Mercati,” probably an Englishman), translated into Latin a Greek text of the second half of the eleventh century that described, among other things, the relics of the city:

Firstly, in the great palace, in the temple of Saint Mary, Mother of God, are these reliquaries and these relics: The holy towel, in which the face of Christ is depicted, that Jesus Christ sent to Abgar king of the city of Edessa; and king Abgar, having seen the holy face of Christ, was suddenly healed from his illness. He was in fact always lying in bed. The holy towel therefore contains the face of the Sav- ior without paint; The holy tile, in which the same face of Christ appeared too [transferred] from the holy towel. In them there is a great miracle, because they contain the face of Christ our Lord without paint; The letter that Christ wrote with his hand and sent to the above-mentioned Abgar. […] The very letter is in the palace, and also the holy towel and the holy tile.39

concuti mortemque propinquam omnibus minari. Intimatum est superna visione hoc tantum malum illi civitati non defuturum donec illud linteamen quod in se figuram Domini continebat vultus clausum occultaretur et ab humanis obtutibus absentaretur. Factumque est. Clauso in vase aureo et diligenter reserato sancto illo linteo, et terremotus cessavit et omnis malicia celi quievit. Ex illo tempore nullus fuit ausus illud vas aperire nec quid esset intus aspicere, credentibus omnibus atque timentibus terremotu omnia concuti si ceperit illud aperiri” (ed. K.N. Ciggaar, “Une description de Constantinople dans le Tarragonensis 55,” Revue des études byzantines 53 [1995], pp. 120–121). The codex (Tarragonensis 55) dates from the end of the twelfth or beginnings of the thirteenth century, being a copy of a more ancient original. 38 Ioannes Scilitzes, Synopsis historiarum, Life of Michael IV, §10. I will come back to this episode later on. 39 Anonymus (Mercati), De sanctuariis et reliquiis urbis Constantinopoleos, 1,1–12: “In primis quidem sunt in magno palacio in templo sanctae Mariae Dei genitricis haec sanctuaria et sacrae reliquiae: sanctum manutergium in quo est vultus Christi impictus quod misit Christus Ihesus ad Abgarum regem Edesse civitatis et cum vidisset sanctum vultum Christi Abgarus rex statim effectus est sanus ab infirmitate sua. Semper enim erat in lecto The Mandylion In Constantinople 103

Towel, acheiropoieton image, face of Christ, Keramion with the face: the use of these terms in the description of the Greek writer, who seems well informed, corresponds perfectly to the tradition. A chronicle of the reign of Baldwin I of Jerusalem from the first half of the twelfth century, repeats that “in his time, Christ sent, through the Apostle Thaddaeus, his own image depicted in a towel, after having sent a letter.”40 An- other anonymous English pilgrim, having visited Constantinople in 1150, narrates that in the “chapel of the emperor,” many relics of Christ are shown, including “the handkerchief that was on his head,” and “the Lord’s bag, and inside it, the letters that the Lord wrote; and the bag is sealed with the seal of the emperor in a chest of gold. And in another chest there is the towel which, when applied to the face of the Lord, held the image of his face.”41 An anonymous description dating from circa 1190, lists the following among the relics to be found in Constantinople’s imperial chapel:

Part of the linen cloths with which the aforementioned Joseph of Ari- mathea deserved to wrap the crucified body of Christ is kept in the abovementioned imperial chapel. In fact, the cloth (sindon) and part of the

iacens. Sanctum manutergium igitur habet vultum Salvatoris sine pictura. Sancta tegula in qua apparuit et ipse vultus Christi de sancto manutergio. Magnum enim miraculum est in eis quia sine pictura habent vultum Christi Domini nostri. Epistola quam scripsit Chris- tus sua manu et misit ad predictum Abgarum. […] Ipsa epistola est in palacio et sanctum manutergium et sancta tegula” (ed. K.N. Ciggaar, “Une description de Constantinople traduite par un pèlerin anglais,” Revue des études byzantines 34 [1976], p. 245). Ciggaar bases his work on the codex Digbeianus latinus 112 (beginnings of the twelfth century); the codex Ottobonianus latinus 169 (beginnings of the thirteenth century) had been edited by S.G. Mercati, “Santuari e reliquie costantinopolitane secondo il codice ottobo- niano latino 169 prima della conquista latina (1204),” Rendiconti della Pontificia Accademia Romana di Archeologia 12 (1936), p. 140; iterum A. Lombatti, “Impossibile identificare la Sindone con il mandylion: ulteriori conferme da tre codici latini. Con un’edizione inte- grale del Codex Vossianus latinus Q69, ff. 6r-6v,” Approfondimento sindone 2/2 (1998), pp. 3–4. 40 Petite chronique du règne de Baudouin I, ll. 36–38: “Christus tempore suo per Thadeum apostolum ipsius epistola premissa suam in manutergio figuratam misit imaginem” (ed. R.B.C. Huygens, Guibert de Nogent. Dei gesta per Francos et cinq autres textes, Turnhout, Brepols, 1996, p. 363). 41 Relliquiae Constantinopolitanae: “Sudarium quod fuit super caput eius […] pera dominica et littere quas in eadem scripsit Dominus, que pera cum litteris consignata est signo imperatoris in capsula aurea; et in alia capsula est mantile, quod, visui Domini applica- tum, imaginem vultus eius retinuit” (ed. P. Riant, Exuviae sacrae constantinopolitanae, vol. 2: Fasciculus documentorum ecclesiasticorum, Geneva, Fick, 1878, pp. 211–212). 104 Chapter 5

crown of Christ are in Gaul, in Compiègne, as a gift of Charles the Bald. Then the towel sent by the Lord to King Abgar in Edessa, through the Apostle Thaddaeus, in which, thanks to the Lord himself, his image was transfigured.42

Once again, the burial linen and the Edessean towel are clearly identified as two different objects. The author reveals that he knows the tradition in which the shroud of Christ was first taken to Aachen by Charlemagne, and later on to Compiègne by Charles the Bald.43 Sometime between 1194 and 1197, Constantine Stilbes, at the time “didas- kalos of the Apostle,” delivered a speech dedicated to the Mandylion and the Keramion, speaking of the way in which the acheiropoieton image came to be formed. The text conveys knowledge of the Synaxarium, but Constantine does not mention the alternative version of the story, known by Gregory Referenda- rius and present in one of the recensions of the Narratio de imagine Edessena, according to which the image had been formed with the sweat of the Passion. When the painter Ananias was preparing a wooden panel and his colors, he feels unable to reproduce the divine form of Jesus who:

summons the painter, asks for water and sprinkles his own face […]. Hav- ing taken a cloth to dry himself, immaterially represented on it – Oh miracle! – the non hand-made, inviolable, indistinguishable form, as an impression of seal on wax.44

42 Descriptio sanctuarii Constantinopolitani: “Pars linteaminum, quibus crucifixum Christi corpus meruit involvere iam dictus Arimathensis Ioseph, in supradicta capella imperiali continetur. Syndon enim, pars quoque Corone Christi, ex Karoli Calvi dono, habetur Car- ropoli Gallie. Item manutergium, regi Abgaro, a Domino, per Thadeum apostolum, Edesse missum, in quo ab ipso Domino sua ipsius transfigurata est ymago” (ed. P. Riant, Exuviae sacrae, vol. 2, cit., p. 217). The text is drawn from a manuscript of the thirteenth century (Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale de France, lat. 6186). Cf. J. Durand – M.P. Laffitte (eds.), Le trésor de la Sainte-Chapelle, Paris, Réunion des Musées Nationaux, 2001, p. 35. 43 G. Ciccone – C. Sturmann Ciccone, La sindone svelata e i quaranta sudari, cit., pp. 75–76 and 101–102. 44 Constantinus Stilbes, Didascalia de imaginibus Christi, 7: μετακαλεῖται τὸν γραφέα, ὕδωρ αἰτεῖται καὶ ῥαντίζει τὸ πρόσωπον […]. Ὀνην λαβὼν ἀπομά ξασθαι, ἀΰλως ταύτῃ τὴν μορφὴν ἐνετύπωσεν, ὢ τοῦ θαύματος, ἀχειρούργητον ἀπαρεγχείρητον ἀπαράλλακτον, ὁποῖον καὶ ἀπὸ σφραγίδος εἰς κηρὸν τὸ ἐκσφράγισμα (ed. B. Flusin, “Didascalie de Constantin Stilbès sur le mandylion et la sainte tuile,” cit., pp. 74–75). The Mandylion In Constantinople 105

The story is quite traditional and refers only to the image of the face.45 Just before the looting of Constantinople, between 1201 and 1204, Dobrynya Jadrejkovich – known as Anthony, archbishop of Novgorod46 – wrote his Pil- grim’s Book; among the objects treasured in the imperial palace, he lists “the handkerchief that represents the face of Christ and the two keramidia.”47 We can therefore state that, since the time of Porphyrogennetos, both the Mandylion and the Keramion remained in the Chapel of the Pharos, within the imperial palace, and that according to all sources, both contained the miraculous picture of the face of Christ, and nothing more than that.

45 Mark Guscin has quoted a passage, from which it would be deduced that “once again, a full-body image is brought into the story when talking about the depiction on the cloth” (The Image of Edessa, cit., p. 209): “As rays and glows of an exceedingly bright light bearer, [Abgar] sees the images sent to him from afar, which also recreates the good tempera- ment of the elements of the body and the spring-like condition [of life]. He considers the event a divine vision, and under the stone, (namely) the tile, he contemplates the face of God; one might say, in depth, [that he contemplates His] back, just the form [that He took] during the incarnation in the last time, or the image that came after the hypostasis, and that is posterior. [Abgar] thinks that Jesus came to him in person and that, by means of symbols, the God-man in his entirety has been brought to him; or that even the duality of his nature is admired, either through the tile of clay or through the fine and transparent linen” (Constantinus Stilbes, Didascalia de imaginibus Christi, 9). Abgar, therefore, talks about the two imprints of the face of Jesus on the Mandylion and on the Keramion, and he does not mention any “full-body image” whatsoever. The context is revealing: when he says “back” (ὀπίσθια) Constantine does not refer to the back of the man of the Shroud, but he opposes Christ’s “front” and “back,” that is, the different aspects that result from his being at the same time man and God, according to a lexical and metaphorical tradition present in Origen, Gregory Nazianzen, Gregory Nyssen and Theodoret of Cyrrhus: cf. G.W.H. Lampe, A Patristic Greek Lexicon, Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1961, col. 966. 46 Cf. O.A. Belobrova, “Книга Паломник» Антония Новгородского (К изучению текста),” Trudy Otdela drevnerusskoj literatury 29 (1974), pp. 178–185; J.P. Arrignon, “Un pèlerin russe à Constantinople: Antoine de Novgorod,” Médiévales 12 (1987), pp. 33–41; G.P. Majeska, “Russian Pilgrims in Constantinople,” Dumbarton Oaks Papers 56 (2002), pp. 93–108. Regarding the relics listed by Russian visitors, Id., “Russian Pilgrims and the Relics of Constantinople,” in A. Lidov (ed.), Восточнохристианские реликвии – Eastern Christian Relics, cit., pp. 387–397. 47 D. Jadrejkovich, Книга Паломник, p. 89: “и убрус, на немже образ Христов; и керемиде две” (ed. P. Savvaitov, Путешествие новгородского архиепископа Антония в Царьград в конце XII столетия, Saint Petersburg, Arheograficheskaja komissija, 1872). 106 Chapter 5

The Revolt of the Palace

On July 31, 1200, John Axouch Komnenos the Fat tried to usurp the throne of Constantinople, which rightfully belonged to Alexios III Angelos. After burst- ing into the basilica of Hagia Sophia, he had himself crowned emperor by a monk and marched toward the imperial palace. While he was taking possession of the hall of the throne, a rampaging crowd set out to loot the buildings and headed towards the Chapel of the Virgin of the Pharos, with the aim of plundering its relics. The skeuophylax, that is, the sacristan in charge of the sacred objects, Nicholas Mesarites, with the help of some soldiers, and despite being wounded, managed to repel the rebels. The next day, John Axouch was beheaded by Alexios’ guards, the revolt was put down, and the relics were safe. Nicholas Mesarites left a speech describing the events, in which he exalts the sanctity of the church that was in danger of being violated, comparing it to the Ark of the Covenant of Solomon’s Temple, and he lists ten relics that meta- phorically correspond to the Tables of the Law. According to Barbara Frale, the Shroud of Turin is included among them:

Nicholas describes the Shroud unmistakably, as a funeral sheet where the image of Jesus was outlined as a shape without borderlines. “It is made of linen, a humble and simple material, and still has the smell of myrrh. It cannot perish, because it covered the dead body, with ill defined borders, naked, covered with myrrh after the Passion” […]. That was the last description of the Shroud in the imperial chapel at Byzantium.48

As Gian Marco Rinaldi has already noted, Nicholas Mesarites’ description certainly cannot be “the last description of the Shroud in the imperial chapel at Byzantium,” because there were none that preceded it.49 But above all, this “unmistakable” evidence for a shroud where “the image of Jesus was outlined as a shape without border lines” is actually a manipulation of Nicholas’ text, which should be correctly translated as follows:

Burial cloths of Christ: they are of linen, of a cheap material readily accessible, still smelling of perfume, exempt from corruption, since they

48 B. Frale, The Templars and the Shroud of Christ, cit., pp. 254–255. 49 G.M. Rinaldi, Gli inganni di Barbara Frale, II part, in http://sindone.weebly.com/frale3b. html. The Mandylion In Constantinople 107

wrapped the uncircumscribed naked corpse spread with myrrh after the passion.50

Yet there are, among the sindonologists, those who had been able to manipu- late the text even more seriously, adding a completely made-up excerpt to the sentence: “[…] still smelling fragrant of perfume, defying corruption because they wrapped the mysterious naked dead body from head to feet.”51 Two unsuspecting supporters of the authenticity of the Shroud of Turin have correctly pointed out the mistakes of those who wanted to see in this text a reference to the human image imprinted on the Shroud of Turin. In 1938, Paul Vignon admitted that Mesarites “does not mention and therefore must not have discovered the images on the shroud,” yet he proceeds to imagine how the skeuophylax “raises a lid, smells an old scent and puts the lid back, without thinking about unfolding a cloth that was never exhibited.”52 A scent of myrrh that, far from being authentic, is only mentioned in the context of this highly imaginative “re-actualization of the events” and should be compared with other equally imaginative statements by Nicholas in which he describes the towel with which Christ wiped the feet of the apostles as if it were still wet, and the spear as if it were still soaked with blood and water.53 In 1983, Carlo Maria Mazzucchi stated bluntly that Nicholas Mesarites’ prayer “does not provide any serious reason to believe that he is talking about a shroud bearing an image.”54 In fact, the author does not speak of a single σινδών but of σινδόνες, that is, two or more cloths made of linen, of an unspecified form. The change from plural to singular in Frale’s translation alters the story to make it compatible with a single cloth, the Shroud of Turin. And this is not all: Nicholas speaks of cloths that “wrapped the uncircumscribed naked

50 Seditio Ioanni Comneni, 13: ἐντάφιοι σινδόνες Χριστοῦ· αὗται δ’ εἰσὶν ἀπὸ λίνου, ὕλης εὐώνου κατὰ τὸ πρόχειρον, ἔτι πνέουσαι μύρα, ὑπερτεροῦσαι φθορᾶς, ὅτι τὸν ἀπερίληπτον νεκρὸν γυμνὸν ἐσμυρνημένον μετὰ τὸ πάθος συνέστειλαν (ed. A. Heisenberg, Die Palastrevolution des Johannes Komnenos, Würzburg, Stürzt, 1907, p. 30). The Italian translation proposed by Gino Zaninotto is completely wrong (“La S. Sindone a S. Maria delle Blakerne nel 1204: un’ipotesi debole,” in D. Repice [ed.], Quattro percorsi accanto alla Sindone, Roma, Radice- quadrata, 2011, p. 91); the author, howewer, agrees with me in denying that the passage regards a shroud with the image. 51 J.C. Iannone, The Mystery of the Shroud of Turin, New York, Alba House, 1998, p. 123. 52 P. Vignon, Le Saint Suaire de Turin devant la science, l’archéologie, l’histoire, l’iconographie, la logique, Paris, Masson, 1938, p. 104. 53 P.A. Gramaglia, “La Sindone di Torino: alcuni problemi storici,” cit., p. 548. 54 C.M. Mazzucchi, “La testimonianza più antica dell’esistenza di una sindone a Costanti- nopoli,” cit., p. 228. 108 Chapter 5 corpse” of Christ, applying the adjective ἀπερίληπτος (“uncircumscribable,” “incomprehensible”, “not to be embraced or comprehended”) to the Lord’s body. But this is an honorific designation of the august body, not the description of the “shape without border lines” that would be visible on the fabric! Indeed, the text does not mention any shape whatsoever. Looking for other instances in which Mesarites uses this term, one comes across a passage in which the author describes a painting depicting the scene of the Nativity of Jesus, where it can be seen that “the infant is wrapped in swaddling-clothes, the uncircumscribable (ἀπερίληπτος) is tightly bound with bonds.”55 And again, when he describes the emotion of the women at the appearance of the risen Jesus, while they throw themselves at His feet: “They will not let them go, they desire to hold in bonds the uncircumscribable, they kiss the fair feet.”56 Those who turn to Mesarites as a witness to a shroud, fail to point out that Nicholas Mesarites himself, after describing not one shroud, but more than one burial cloth of Jesus on which there is no image, also refers to the Mandylion:

I will now show you also the Lawgiver himself, imprinted onto a towel, as in the original, and carved onto a fragile tile as with a graphic art not made by hands.57

Once again we find the Mandylion and the Keramion, the former being described, without any shadow of a doubt, as a “towel” (χειρόμακτρον). It is the same term that the author uses later on, in a work of 1207: when trying to compete with Jerusalem, he boasts of the presence in Constantinople of the burial cloths, the Mandylion and the Keramion:

Christ became known in Judaea, but he has not deserted us. The Lord’s sepulcher is there, but here with us are the cloths and the (burial) nap- kins. […] The uncircumscribed, appeared among us in the likeness of a

55 Nicolaus Mesarites, Descriptio ecclesiae SS. Apostolorum, 23,2: σπάργανα τὸ βρέφος περιελίσσεται, δεσμοῖς ὁ ἀπερίληπτος περισφίγγεται (ed. G. Downey, “Nikolaos Mesarites: Description of the Church of the Holy Apostles at Constantinople,” Transactions of the American Philosophical Society n.s. 47 [1957], p. 906). 56 Nicolaus Mesarites, Descriptio ecclesiae SS. Apostolorum, 29,4: οὐκ ἀπολῦσαι τούτους βεβούληνται, δεσμοῖς περιβαλεῖν διανοοῦνται τὸν ἀπερίληπτον, τοὺς ὡραίους πόδας καταφιλοῦσι (ed. G. Downey, Nikolaos Mesarites, cit., p. 910). 57 Nicolaus Mesarites, Seditio Ioanni Comneni, 14: παραστήσω δέ σοι κἀνταῦθα καὶ τὸν νομοδότην αὐτὸν ὡς ἐν πρωτοτύπῳ τετυπωμένον τῷ χειρομάκτρῳ καὶ τῇ εὐθρύπτῳ ἐγκεκολαμμένον κεράμῳ ὡς ἐν ἀχειροποιήτῳ τέχνῃ τινὶ γραφικῇ (ed. A. Heisenberg, Die Palastrevolution, cit., p. 31). The Mandylion In Constantinople 109

man, circumscribed as in the original, imprinted onto the towel and carved onto the fragile tile as with a graphic art not made by [human] hands.58

Nicholas Mesarites, ultimately, not only omits the existence of a long burial shroud – allegedly similar to that of Turin – which would have been kept in the imperial chapel of Constantinople: his description rules out the possibility of matching the burial cloth relics with the Mandylion, which he himself describes as an object distinct from the former.

Robert de Clari

Pope Innocent III, in 1198 – the year of his election to the papal throne – called for the Fourth Crusade. Rather than directing this against the Muslims in the Holy Land, it resulted in the conquest and disgraceful plundering of Constan- tinople by the crusader army, giving rise to the partition of the Byzantine Empire and the establishment of a Latin Empire in the East.59 Byzantium was assaulted twice: in July 1203, in order to depose the usurper Alexios III, and in April 1204, to take over the city. For a certain interval between the first and second assault “many of those in the host went to see Con- stantinople, and the rich palaces and great churches, of which there were many, and all the great wealth of the city, for never was there city that pos- sessed so much”;60 and what they did not see on that occasion they could admire later, during and after the looting. One of the participants in the crusade was Robert de Clari, a knight from Picardy in the service of Pierre d’Amiens, who took part in both assaults.61

58 Nicolaus Mesarites, Epitaphius in Ioannem, p. 27: γνωστὸς μὲν ἐν τῇ Ἰουδαίᾳ γέγονεν ὁ Χριστός, ἀλλ’ οὐκ ἀφ’ ἡμῶν ἀπολέλειπται. Ἐκεῖ τάφος κυριακός, ἀλλ’ ἐφ’ ἡμᾶς αἱ ὀναι καὶ τὰ σουδάρια. […] Ὁ ἀπερίγραπτος, ὁ ἐν ὁμοιώματι ἀνθρώπου φανεὶς καθ’ ἡμᾶς, περιγραπτὸς ὡς ἐν πρωτοτύπῳ, τετυπωμένος τῷ χειρομάκτρῳ καὶ τῇ εὐθρύπτῳ ἐγκεκολαμμένος κεράμῳ ὡς ἐν ἀχειροκμήτῳ τέχνῃ τινὶ γραφικῇ (ed. A. Heisenberg, Der Epitaphios des Nikolaos Mesarites, Münich, Bayerische Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1923). 59 See a complete narration of the events in M. Meschini, 1204. L’incompiuta. La quarta cro- ciata e le conquiste di Costantinopoli, Milan, Ancora, 2004; M. Angold, The Fourth Crusade. Event and Context, Harlow, Longman, 2003. 60 Geoffroy de Villehardouin, La conquête de Constantinople, 192. Translation by Frank T. Marzials. 61 About this author and his chronicle, see the long introduction by A.M. Nada Patrone, Roberto di Clari. La conquista di Costantinopoli, Genoa, Istituto di Paleografia e Storia 110 Chapter 5

Upon his return, Robert wrote a chronicle of his experience, known as The Conquest of Constantinople. In it, he lavishly describes the contents of the Cha- pel of the Pharos, and in particular, the two relics of the Mandylion and the Keramion:

Then there were yet other relics in that chapel, which we have forgotten to mention to you. For there were two rich vessels of gold which hung in the midst of the chapel by two thick silver chains. In one of these vessels there was a tile and in the other a cloth. We shall tell you from where these relics came. There was once a holy man in Constantinople. It happened that this holy man was mending a widow’s house with tiles, for the love of the Lord God. And while he was mending it, our Lord appeared to him and talked to him. Now this good man had a cloth [wrapped] around him: “Give me that cloth,” said our Lord. And the good man gave it to him, and our Lord wrapped his face with it, so that his features were imprinted on it; then he handed it back to him, and told him to carry it with him and touch the sick with it, and that whoever had faith in it would be cleansed of his sickness. And the good man took it and carried it with him; but before he carried it with him, after God had given the cloth back to him, the good man took it and hid it under a tile until evening. In the evening, when he was about to leave, he took the cloth; but as he lifted the tile, he saw the image imprinted on the tile just as it was on the cloth. He carried the tile and the cloth with him, and afterwards many sick healed by [touching] them. And these relics hung in the midst of the chapel, as Ι have told you.62

medievale, 1972. Edition and English translation: P. Noble (ed.), La conquête de Constanti- nople, Edinburgh, Société Rencevals British Branch, 2005. 62 R. de Clari, La conquête de Constantinople, 83: “Or avoit encore autres saintuaires en chele capele que nous vous aviemes evliés a dire, car il i avoit deus riches vaissiaus d’or qui pendoient en mi le capele a deus grosses caaines d’argent. En l’un de ches waissiaus, si i avoit une tuile, et en l’autre une touaile; si vous dirons dont chil saintuaire estoient venu. Il eut jadis un saint homme en Coustantinoble; si avint que chus sains hons recouvroit de tiule le maison a une veve femme pour l’amour de Damedieu. Si comme il le recouvroit, si s’aparut Nostre Sires a lui, si parla a lui; or avoit li boins hons une toaile entour lui: ‘Cha donne’ fist Nostre Sires, ‘chele toaile,’ et li boins hons li bailla, et Nostre Sires en envolepa sen visage, si que se forme i fu emprientee, puis se li rebailla; se li dist qu’il 1’emportast et qu’il la toucast as malades, et qui creanche i aroit si seroit netiés de se maladie. Et li boins [hons] le prist, si l’enporta; mais devant chou qu’il l’emportast, quant Dieus li eut rendue se toaile, si le prist le boins hons, si le mucha sous une tiule dusques au vespre. Au vespre, quant il s’en ala, si prist se touaile; si comme il leva le tiule, si vit le The Mandylion In Constantinople 111

I have previously published a detailed study of the link between Robert de Clari’s Chronicle and the Shroud of Turin63 Here it will suffice to note that the author is clearly speaking of the Mandylion and of the holy tile, but he reports an entirely new version of the legend, set in Constantinople and adapted to the new context in which the object was then located.64 It is interesting to see that also in an Arabic version of the legend (thought to date 1233 or from 1155–117565) it is said that the mandīl was a cloth worn by an envoy of the king of Edessa.66 It is evident, however, that for Robert the Mandylion was a miraculous image of the face of Christ only, imprinted on cloth by a living Jesus, and that it had nothing to do with a funeral shroud in the form of a long cloth. It will be of greater interest to examine Robert’s description of the location of the two shrines “which hung in the midst of the chapel.” Alexei Lidov has collected and examined the available evidence, from the eleventh century, of the tradition of painting the Mandylion and the Keramion inside churches, on the wall between the dome’s pendentives, above the central arch, one in front of the other, to imitate precisely the original location of the relics in the Chapel

forme emprientee en le tiule aussi comme en le toaile; si enporta le tiule et le toaile, puis en warirent maint malade; et chil saintuaire pendoient en mi le capele, si comme je vous ai dit” (ed. J. Dufournet, Robert de Clari. La conquête de Constantinople, Paris, Champion, 2004). 63 A. Nicolotti, “Una reliquia costantinopolitana dei panni sepolcrali di Gesù secondo la Cronaca del crociato Robert de Clari,” Medioevo greco 11 (2011), pp. 151–196. 64 All differences in the setting notwithstanding, there is no doubt that the background is that of the Edessean legend, barely known by the crusader. Mark Guscin, instead, reckons that this relic has nothing to do with the Edessean image: this allows him to agree with the other syndonologists, according to whom, in another passage of his work, Robert would be a witness of the presence of the Shroud of Turin in another church of Constantinople. But if the Shroud and the Mandylion are the same thing, how could they be in two different churches? The solution is that of not admitting – against tradition – that the Man- dylion located in the Chapel of the Pharos and described by Robert is the Mandylion of Edessa, kept along with its twin relic (M. Guscin, Análisis comparativo, cit., p. 484). 65 Cf. Y. Blau, “Über einige christlich-arabische Manuskripte aus dem 9. und 10. Jahrhun- dert,” Le muséon 75 (1962), p. 108. 66 J.P. Monferrer-Sala – A. Zomeño, “Abgari regis fabulae versio iuxta narrationem magnae ecclesiae Edessae aedificationis,” Collectanea christiana orientalia 5 (2008), p. 167 (cod. Sinaiticus Arabicus 455, f. 153r): «The Messiah said to him: “What do you carry on your shoulders?” Yūḥannā answered: “A mandīl, my Lord.” Then the Messiah said: “Give it to the image of the Lord, the أme.” The Lord took it, put it on his face and at that moment ف�ق ذ ذ ن ف� �نّ ن ّ ��ا ل ا لم��س��ي�� و�م�ا �ه�� ا ا �ل�� ي� ع��لى �م�� ك�ب�ي��ك �� ج��اب��ه �يوح��ا �م��دي��ل ي��ا ��سي��د �ي�) «Messiah, appeared on the mandīl ف ح أ فأ ذ ّ ض ق ة ّ ف ��ق�ا �ل�ه ا لم��س�� ع��ط��ن� ��ا ه �� خ�� ه ا �ل��س��د ��ع�ه ع�� ه�ه �ل��ل �� ت ط��ل�ع� ت �ص � ا �ل��س��د ا لم��س�� ا لمن��د �� .( ل يح يي� إي ي و و� لى و ج � و و � � ور ي يح ي� يل 112 Chapter 5 of the Pharos.67 Their symbolic position, arranged on two opposite sides, is reminiscent of the great miracle of the prodigious duplication of the image of the cloth on the tile, which took place in Edessa. In addition to demarcating a mystical space, it reminds those present of the miracle of the Eucharistic trans- mutation and of the sacramental presence of Christ among the faithful, which takes place on the altar below. From the niche of Edessa, where the first miracle of reproduction occurred, to the Chapel of the Pharos of Constantinople and every other Byzantine church, the arrangement of the two relics is repeated.

Latin Sermon

In 1969, in an article appeared on the Ampleforth Journal, Benedictine monk Maurus Green attempted to reconstruct the jigsaw puzzle of the Shroud of Tu- rin’s first millennium.68 This was the first time in the debate that a reference to three sources in Latin was made: the three sources were an interpolation of a sermon quoted by Pope Stephen III and writings by Orderic Vitalis and Ger- vase of Tilbury. These sources speak of the Mandylion of Edessa in a way that departs from tradition: for them, the cloth of Edessa would not have been a small cloth, but a large object containing an imprint of the whole body of Je- sus. This article represents the first attempt to develop a theory for connecting the long shroud with the image of the dead Jesus in Turin and the little Edes- sean handkerchief depicting the face of the living Christ. Green, however, attributed the insights to Ian Wilson – with whom the monk exchanged extensive correspondence – who was already collecting material for his book of 1978.69 In fact, there is only one medieval text – of which the oldest extant manuscript dates to the 10th-11th centuries70 – in which the Edessean image is

67 A. Lidov, “The Miracle of Reproduction. The Mandylion and Keramion as a Paradigm of the Sacred Space,” in C.L. Frommel – G. Wolf (eds.), L’immagine di Cristo dall’acheropita alla mano d’artista dal tardo medioevo all’età barocca, Vatican City, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, 2006, pp. 17–41. 68 M. Green, “Enshrouded in Silence. In Search of the First Millennium of the Holy Shroud,” The Ampleforth Journal 74/3 (1969), pp. 321–345. 69 Cf. R.K. Wilcox, Shroud, London, Corgi Book, 1978, pp. 81–90. In 1973, Wilson had published a summary of his hypotheses: “A Gift to our Proof-Demanding Era?,” Catholic Her- ald, November 16th, 1973, p. 4. 70 Codice Vossianus latinus Q69. The date is uncertain: cf. E. Poulle, “Les sources de l’histoire du linceul de Turin,” cit., pp. 766–767 and note 37. Editions (both contain points that leave room for improvement) by G. Zaninotto, “L’immagine edessena: impronta dell’intera The Mandylion In Constantinople 113

explicitly described as a fabric bearing the figure of the entire body of Jesus. The text is an anonymous Latin sermon called Tractatus ex libro Syrorum trans- latus in latinum (“Treatise translated into Latin from a book of the Syrians”). The treatise has evident Syrian origins but this does not rule out the possibility of it having been translated into Greek and then from Greek into Latin. This is the only example of the Epistle of Jesus to Abgar to attribute the following words to Christ:

“If you really want to see physically my face, I send you this linen cloth, on which you will be able to see not only the features of my face, but the divinely transferred state of my whole body.” […] For the same Mediator between God and men, that he might satisfy this king in all things and in every way, laid down with his whole body stretched on a linen cloth white as snow, on which – a marvelous thing to be said and heard – the glorious figure of the face of the Lord and the most noble length of the whole body was suddenly transferred by divine will, so that for those who have not physically seen the Lord [as He] came in the flesh would be enough, to see him, the transfiguration made on the linen cloth. This linen cloth, which still remains uncorrupted by the passing of time, is located in Mes- opotamia of Syria, in the city of Edessa, in the greatest church. Moreover, on the occasion of the major feasts of the Lord savior, celebrated throughout the year with hymns, psalms and special songs, it is taken out of a chest of gold and worshipped by all the people with great reverence of honor. Many authorities of the clergy who were worthy of seeing it, then stated that on the holy day of Easter it used to change according to the different aspects of the ages; the first hour of the day, therefore, it showed infancy, by the third it [showed] childhood, the sixth adolescence, the ninth then the fullness in which the Son of God, coming to the Passion, endured the cruel torture due to the weight of our sins71

persona di Cristo. Nuove conferme dal codex Vossianus Latinus Q 69 del sec. X,” in A.A. Upinsky (ed.), L’identification scientifique de l’homme du Linceul, Paris, Guibert, 1995, pp. 59–60, and by A. Lombatti, “Impossibile identificare la Sindone con il mandylion,” cit., pp. 10–13. 71 Tractatus ex libro syrorum, 4–8: “ ‘Si vero corporaliter faciem meam cernere desideras, hunc tibi dirigo linteum, in quo non solum faciei mee figuram, sed totius corporis mei cernere poteris statum divinitus transformatum.’ » […] Nam isdem mediator Dei et hom- inum, ut ipsi regi in omnibus et per omnia satisfaceret, supra quodam linteum ad instar nivis candidatum toto se corpore stravit, in quo, quod est dictu vel auditu mirabile, ita divinitus transformata repente est illius dominice faciei figura gloriosa, et totius corporis nobilissimus status, ut qui corporaliter in carne Dominum venientem minime viderunt, 114 Chapter 5

This story was picked up in 1212 by Gervase of Tilbury, almost verbatim, from a source that he calls Gesta Salvatoris.72 But the most ancient recension of the same story is found in a speech by Pope Stephen III from a Roman synod held in 769.73 In that case, however, instead of the phrase: “If you really want to see physically my face, I send you this linen cloth, on which you will be able to see not only the features of my face, but the divinely transferred state of my whole body” are these words: “If you want to see physically my face, behold, I send you the picture of my face divinely transferred onto a cloth, thanks to which you will cool down the fervor of your desire, and never reckon it impossible to be realized what you heard about me.” Stephen, then, was acquainted with a different version of the same story, in which there was no mention of the impression of the whole body and the emphasis was solely on the image of the

satis eis ad videndum sufficiat transfiguratio facta in linteo. Qui linteus adhuc vetustate temporis permanens incorruptus in Mesopotamia Syrie apud Aedissam civitatem in domo maioris ecclesie habetur repositus. In precipuis vero festivitatibus, que de Domino salvatore celebrantur, per anni tocius circulum cum hympnis et salmis ac specialibus can- ticis de scrinio producitur aureo atque adoratur ab omni populo cum magna honoris re verentia. Asserunt autem religiosi plerique viri, qui eum cernere meruerunt, quod in sancto die Pasce per diversas se mutare consueverat etatum species, id est ut prima hora diei infantiam, tercia vero puericiam, sexta quoque adolescenciam, nona autem etatis se premonstrat habere plenitudinem, in qua ad passionem Dei Filius veniens pro nostrorum pondere criminum dirum crucis pertulit supplicium” (I have collated the editions mentioned above with that conducted on manuscripts of the twelfth-fourteenth centuries by E. von Dobschütz, Christusbilder, cit., pp. 131**–135**). Barbara Frale (The Templars and the Shroud of Christ, cit., p. 142) wrongly attributes to Pietro Savio the indication of this text, while it had been reported and edited by Dobschütz more than fifty years earlier. 72 Gervasius Tilleberiensis, Otia imperialia, III,24: “Sed quia me corporaliter videre desi deras, en tibi dirigo lintheum in quo faciei mee figura et tocius mei corporis status continetur […]. Traditur autem ex archivis auctoritatis antique quod Dominus super lintheum candidissimum toto corpore se prostraverit, et ita virtute divina non tantum faciei sed etiam tocius corporis dominici speciosissima effigies lintheo impressa sit. Hec Domini ymago in lintheo aput Edissam, que caput est Mesopotamidis Sirie, sine aliquo corruptio- nis vestigio in maiori ecclesia reservata, in precipuis festivitatibus Domini Salvatoris de aureo scrinio producitur et cum hymnis, psalmis, et orationibus adoratur. De hac quoque naratur quod singulis annis, in die sancto Pasce, in omnium conspectu diversas accipit variationes: prima siquidem hora diei representat infanciam, tertia pueritiam, quinta adolescentiam, septima iuventutem, nona vero hora plenitudinem representat etatis in qua Dominus passionem pro nostra suscepit redemptione” (ed. S.E. Banks – J.W. Binns, Recreation for an Emperor, Oxford, Clarendon Press, 2002, p. 596). 73 An examination of this text by Stephen III in its historical context can be found in E. Bru- net, “Le icone acheropite a Nicea II e nei ‘Libri Carolini’,” cit., pp. 215–222. The Mandylion In Constantinople 115 face:74 it is hard to understand why sindonologists have quoted Stephen’s text to support their theory.75 In the light of the discrepancy between the quotation from Stephen and the text of the Tractatus in the form in which it has come down to us, it is possible to confirm the response of most modern commentators, that the addition of the detail of the impression of the whole body is the result of interpolation that occurred between 769 and the 10th-11th centuries, when we find the earliest manuscript of the Tractatus. Could this have been an attempt to adapt the story of the Edessean image to some other legend circulating at the time? Or was it the product of confusion between different stories? In any case, “whether this particular legend goes back to the legends of the impression of the body on the shroud, or it is due to external influences, it is clear that, despite the direct reference to pilgrim chronicles, it cannot have its origins in Edessa,” as Dobschütz rightly points out.76 Certainly, the evidence of the Shroud of Turin is not compatible with the impression of a living body on a sheet, without blood or wounds. And it is even harder to reconcile with the description of a miraculous image that, with the passing of the hours of the day, miraculously changes form and shows the features of Jesus in various moments of his earthly life, from childhood to maturity. Obviously, this fantastic description cannot have come from a witness

74 The text is reported by his successor, Pope Adrianus I, Epistola ad beatum Carolum regem de imaginibus, 18: “Predecessor noster sanctae recordationis dominus Stephanus quon- dam sanctissimus papa in supradicto concilio praesidente inter plurima veridica testimo- nia per semetipsum asserens docuit ita: «[…] Fertur ab asserentibus, quod redemptor humani generis, adpropinquante die passionis, cuidam regi Etessene civitatis, desideranti corporaliter illum cernere et ut persecutiones Iudaeorum aufugiens ad illum convolaret et auditas miraculorum oppiniones et sanitatum curationes illi et populo suo impertiret, respondisset: ‘Quod si faciem meam corporaliter cernere cupis, en tibi vultus mei speciem transformatam in linteo dirigo, per quam et desiderii tui fervorem refrigeres, et quod de me audisti impossibile nequaquam fieri existimes’“ (ed. Epistolae Karolini aevi, III, Berlin, apud Weidmannos, 1899, p. 23). 75 I. Ramelli, “Dal Mandilion di Edessa alla Sindone,” cit., pp. 179 and 181; J.C. Iannone, The Mystery of the Shroud of Turin, New York, Alba House, 1998, p. 110; S. Gaeta, L’altra Sindone. La vera storia del volto di Gesù, Milan, Mondadori, 2005, pp. 26–27; F.C. Tribbe, Portrait of Jesus?, St. Paul, Paragon, 2006, p. 23; E. Marinelli, La Sindone. Testimone di una presenza, cit., p. 43, all of them attribute to Stephen a text that does not belong to Stephen. Also R. Drews, In Search of the Shroud of Turin, Totowa, Rowman & Allanheld, 1984, p. 47, addresses the interpolation as if it were an original dating from around the year 800. 76 E. von Dobschütz, Christusbilder, cit., p. 182. Historical-philological observations about the style and the contents of the sermon ivi, pp. 130**–140**, and in A. Lombatti, “Impos- sibile identificare la Sindone,” cit., pp. 9–17. 116 Chapter 5 who had seen the impression of a corpse, rather, it fulfills a theological impera- tive: namely, to show that Christ fully assumed a human nature, becoming a man and undergoing the passage of time, something on which Irenaeus of Ly- ons had already insisted in the second century.77 It is interesting to see that also in an Arabic version of the legend the image of Christ is said to be ever changing; however, this describes Abgar’s painting, not the acheiropoieton.78 Sindonologists have concocted convoluted explanations to work around this text. Gino Zaninotto altered the story so that, according to him, the image “gained in precision as hours went by”: the author of the Latin sermon would have looked at the Shroud of Turin, which is characterized by a “difficulty to focus on the image, due both to the distance and the type of light.”79 The original source, however, refers to an entirely different phenomenon: not a fixed picture that becomes clear and better focused with the passage of time and changing observation points, but a figure of Christ that progressively changes and appears to age from infant to adult. It is equally difficult to reconcile the original description with the interpretation by Maria Grazia Siliato, according to whom “the exposure took place in sunlight, and the imprint, as time went by, became more intense and discernible, so as to seem to pass from the inde- terminacy of a childish shadow to the dramatic gravity of the corpse that we all know.”80 Elsewhere, Zaninotto posits an alternative explanation, this time of a theological nature, invoking a “curious tradition, probably due to a Docetan

77 Irenaeus Lugdunensis, Adversus haereses, II,22,4: “He came to save all through means of himself, I say, who through him are born again to God: infants, and children, and boys, and youths, and old men. He therefore passed through every age, becoming an infant for infants […] a child for children […] a youth for youths […] an old man for old men […]. Then, at last, he came on to death itself, that he might be the first-born from the dead.” Translation by Alexander Roberts. 78 J.P. Monferrer-Sala – A. Zomeño, “Abgari regis fabulae versio iuxta narrationem magnae ecclesiae Edessae aedificationis,” Collectanea christiana orientalia 5 (2008), p. 167 (cod. Sinaiticus Arabicus 455, f. 152v): “Nothing of the face of the Messiah was left without drawing, and assuming that the image was over, he left heading towards his master, searching for the city of Edessa. When he reached Tiberias he took the image to take a look at it, but found that it had changed and had become the image of a child. He went back to Jerusalem, perplexed and amazed by that, because heّ took the image repeated ل ��ع�د �م� ن ��ه ا لم��س�� ش�� ء �لا وم ي م � ّو ج أ يح ي� إ ) ”times and it kept changing both in quality and resemblance ة ظ ّ أن ق ة ثّ نّ خ ت ّ ّ ن ة ّ غ ة أ خ ة �ص ر� و � ن ��ه ��د � مك� ا �ل��ص ر� � ��ه � ج �م�� ه�ا � ل ��س��د ه ط�ا �ل�� م�د �ي� �� ا�ل �ه�ا و لم�ا ��ل � ل ط��ر �� ج ا �ل��ص ر� و � ل و م إ ر� و ج � إى ي ب ّر ب� إى بّ ي ر� وأ ن ظ ف� �ق تغ ّ ت ت ة ّ نّ ت ق � ت خ ّ ت ن ذ �ل�ي��ر �إ ��لي��ه�ا �و ج�د �ه�ا �د ��ي�ر� و�ص�ار� �صور� �ص�� و��ه ر ج�� إ لى ب��ي�� ا لم��د �س �م��ي��ر و�م��ع��ج�� ب� �م�� ل�ك ال��مر ّ أ ذ بي إ ع ث ت ف ن خ �ة � ّ ف� ت �ك� �ة �ه �خت ف ��ل � ��ل � ن �ت ش .(و�إ��ه �� صور ا ل��سي��د د ��ع�ا � �ي��ر و ي� ��ل� ع ي��ه ي� ا ب��لوي� وا ل��ب��ه 79 G. Zaninotto, “L’immagine edessena,” cit., p. 59. 80 M.G. Siliato, Sindone: mistero dell’impronta di duemila anni fa, cit., p. 171.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2014 | doi 10.1163/9789004278523_007 The Mandylion In Constantinople 117 influence” according to which it was not possible to determine Jesus’ physical traits clearly, so it was difficult to tell his age. This interpretive conjecture, which is completely unsupported, would make the testimony of the author of the Tractatus even less reliable: this theological re-reading completely dismiss- es the real object and provides instead a metaphorical interpretation, thus di- minishing the validity of the source. This would be in clear contradiction to the other interpretation put forth by Zaninotto himself.81 Daniel Scavone attempts to relate this miracle with the rite of the breaking of the Eucharistic bread in four pieces (melismós) that takes place during the Byzantine liturgy. From the twelfth century onward, frescoes represent this rite by depicting Christ as an infant on the altar over the paten or the chalice, instead of the Eucharist: Scavone deduces that “it was inspired by the polymor- phic or changing Jesus of the Shroud’s Easter display celebrated for centuries in Edessa.”82 But there is no documentary record of this, nor is there a convinc- ing connection. In such imagery, the presence of Christ on the altar is meant as a metaphor for three simultaneous theological truths: the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist, his incarnation, and his sacrifice on the cross. Previ- ously, this function was fulfilled by the image of the sacrificial lamb, but it was forbidden by the Quinisext Council in 692. Jesus is often depicted as a child, but images of Christ as an adult are also common. The child better represents the incarnated Jesus, destined from birth to be sacrificed; this childhood recalls the sacrifice of Isaac, and the innocence of the sacrificial lamb, and it is clearly expressed in the words the priest recites during the ritual.83 It is significant that in these paintings, the child Christ is frequently shown with his flesh being pierced with a “lance” or the liturgical knife that the celebrant priest uses to divide the bread. Moreover, Jesus’ limbs are often shown separated from the body, or amputated. The purpose is the realistic depiction of the Eucharistic sacrifice, as it happens also in some patristic texts; a particular example of a direct source of the iconography of the melismós is a story contained in the Miracles of St. George, a text of the eleventh century, where it is said that while attending the liturgy, a Saracen had a vision of the infant Jesus lying on the al-

81 G. Zaninotto, “Le ‘ostensioni’ dell’achiropita nella chiesa grande di Edessa,” Collegamento pro Sindone November-December 1988, pp. 29–30. 82 D.C. Scavone, “Joseph of Arimathea, the Holy Grail, and the Edessa Icon,” Arthuriana 9/4 (1999), pp. 11–12; Id., “Edessan Sources for the Legend of the Holy Grail,” in P. Di Lazzaro (ed.), Proceedings of the International Workshop on the Scientific Approach to the Achei- ropoietos Images, visible in www.acheiropoietos.info/proceedings/proceedings.php, p. 3. 83 “Broken and distributed is the Lamb of God; broken yet not divided; always eaten yet never consumed, but sanctifying those who partake thereof.” 118 Chapter 5 tar paten, dismembered in four pieces, such as the eucharistic bread.84 The Mandylion, in short, has nothing to do with this particular imagery at all.85 Scavone’s assumptions claim that Western legends about the Holy Grail were influenced by the Mandylion (that is, the Shroud). By allowing vague re- semblances to form the basis for broader assumptions and theories, all manner of pro-sindonic comparisons have been made, despite irreconcilable differences. André-Marie Dubarle has appealed to the Constantinopolitan Narratio de imagine edessena, which tells of the ancient liturgical celebrations in honor of the relic that used to be performed in the city of Edessa.86 The Narratio describes different ceremonial moments that were meant to commemorate aspects of the life of Jesus, especially the entrance of the Word into the world by the incarnation, the Passion and death, and finally the ascension. For Dubarle the changing appearance of the face imprinted on the Mandylion “could not be just a legend, but the naively embellished memory of a symbolic meaning attributed to the different stations in the church, during a procession.”87 The anonymous compiler of the Latin sermon would therefore have transformed the memory of these liturgical moments into the description of a face of Christ that changes shape on the fabric. This conjecture cannot be proven and it is grounded on a confused mix of heterogeneous elements. The symbolic interpretation of the Edessean liturgy is only a hypothesis proposed by the later Byzantine compiler of the text: after having described the external aspects, he confesses “not to know for which motive and reason” it happened that way, and therefore finds it “reasonable” to hypothesize an allegorical explanation. Fur- ther, hereckons, the throne on which the Mandylion was laid would represent the power of God, the scepters his royal grandeur, the flabella the angelic praise, the incense burner the diffusion of the scent of myrrh, the torches the

84 J.B. Aufhauser, Miracula S. Georgii, Leipzig, Teubner, 1913, pp. 68–69. 85 Information about the iconography, the liturgical history and the theology of the melismós in M. Garidis, “Approche ‘réaliste’ dans la représentation du Melismos,” Jahrbuch der Österreichischen Byzantinistik 32/5 (1982), pp. 495–502; Ch. Konstantinidi, “Το δογματικό υπόβαθρο στην αψίδα του Αγίου Παντελεήμονα Βελανιδιών,” Δελτίον της Χριστιανικής Αρχαιολογικής Εταιρίας 20 (1998), pp. 165–176; R.F. Taft, A History of the Liturgy of St John Chrysostom, vol. 5: The Precommunion Rites, Rome, Pontificio Istituto Orientale, 2000, pp. 319–379; M.H. Congordeau, “L’enfant immolé. Hyper-réalisme et symbolique sacrifici- elle à Byzance,” in Pratiques de l’eucharistie dans les Églises d’Orient et d’Occident, Paris, Institut d’Études Augustiniennes, 2009, pp. 291–307. 86 Constantinus VII Porphyrogenitus, Narratio de imagine Edessena – Tractatus liturgicus, 5 (Dobschütz, pp. 112**-114**; Guscin 35, p. 66). 87 A.M. Dubarle, Historie ancienne du Linceul de Turin jusqu’au XIIIe siècle, cit., pp. 60–61. The Mandylion In Constantinople 119 eternal light, the entrance of the relic in the church the coming of Jesus to Earth, its presence among the sacred objects Jesus’ surrender to death and his sacrifice for humanity. The priests represent the angelic hosts, the white and purple cloths that wrap the acheiropoieton image are the qualities of the person of Christ, and the processional march his ascension to heaven. Obviously, these are symbolic interpretations of objects and events that may be only mar- ginally related to various moments in the life of Jesus. They are not in any way related to the Mandylion, but to the symbolism of the liturgy that celebrated it, according to a mystagogical procedure – well known to connoisseurs of East- ern liturgies – that instructs those who are preparing for initiation into the mysteries with a “figurative interpretation of the rites.”88 An explicitly hypo- thetical liturgical allegory – far from specific – that focuses not on the relic but on the panoply of liturgical objects and people who worship it, cannot provide any justification to explain a statement that refers not to liturgies, but simply to the miraculous image of a face whose age changes with the passing of the hours of the day. Even the order of the face’s ages (infancy, childhood, adolescence, adulthood) does not match the alleged liturgical interpretation, which is not focused on the age or on the human aspect of Jesus, but rather on the Christology of the Word (his incarnation, Passion, ascension). Dubarle’s interpretation cannot and does not disprove all the evidence that there is a difference between the Shroud of Turin and the legendary Edessean sheet described in the text.

88 M. Bacci, Il pennello dell’evangelista, Pisa, GISEM-ETS, 1998, p. 102. 120 Chapter 6

Chapter 6 An Overview of Iconography

The Holy Face of Lucca

There is another tradition in the West that refers to a cloth bearing the entire image of Jesus, but it has nothing to do with the image of Edessa, nor is it related to the Shroud, although many sindonologists have repeatedly connected it with the Turinese relic: it is a legend about a large wooden crucifix that has, on its reverse, a compartment intended to contain relics. The crucifix is in St. Martin’s Cathedral in Lucca and is known as the “Volto Santo” (‘Holy Face’).1 (Figure 10) There is indeed a story, known as the Legend of Leboinus (or Leobinus), that originates in traditions regarding the icon of Beirut, specifically a sermon by Pseudo-Athanasius that appeared by the end of the eighth century in the hands of the iconodules at the time of the Second Council of Nicaea.2 The legend tells of a pilgrimage to Jerusalem by a bishop from northern Italy named Gualfredus: while in the Holy Land, an angel revealed to him in a dream the existence of a miraculous sculpture hidden in the basement of a Christian named Seleucius. The sculpture was the work of the Pharisee Nicodemus, the man who, according to the Gospel of John (3,1; 19,39), became a disciple of Jesus, and took part in Christ’s burial.

After the resurrection and the ascension of the Lord, Nicodemus was inflamed with such a passion due to the presence of Christ that he always carried Christ with himself, he always had him on his lips. Having the

1 Cf. E. von Dobschütz, Christusbilder, cit., pp. 283**–292**; G. Schnürer, “Sopra l’età e la prove- nienza del Volto Santo di Lucca,” Bollettino storico lucchese 1 (1929), pp. 17–24; 77–105; G. Schnürer – J.M. Ritz, Sankt Kümmernis und Volto santo, Düsseldorf, Schwann, 1934; C. Frugoni, “Una proposta per il Volto Santo,” in C. Baracchini – M.T. Filieri (eds.), Il Volto Santo, storia e culto, Lucca, Pacini Fazzi, 1983, pp. 15–48; R. Savigni, Episcopato e società cittadina a Lucca, Lucca, S. Marco, 1996, pp. 313–397; M.C. Ferrari, “Il Volto Santo di Lucca,” in G. Morello – G. Wolf (eds.), Il volto di Cristo, cit., pp. 253–275; M. Zingoni (ed.), La Santa Croce di Lucca. Il Volto Santo. Storia, tradizioni, immagini, Empoli, Editori dell’Acero, 2003; M.C. Ferrari – A. Meyer (eds.), Il Volto Santo in Europa, Lucca, Istituto storico lucchese, 2005; G. Concioni, Contributi alla storia del Volto Santo, Pisa, ETS, 2005. 2 Cf. P. Savio, Ricerche storiche sulla Santa Sindone, cit., pp. 351–355; M.C. Ferrari, Il Volto Santo di Lucca, cit., pp. 259–260.

Figure 10 The Holy Face of Lucca, St. Martin’s Cathedral. Photo: Valeria Pezzi.

quantity and the quality of the form of Christ’s body been thoroughly learnt and his features outlined in his mind, he sculpted the Most Holy Face, by virtue not of his art, but of the divine one.3

The work of Nicodemus is therefore a supernatural sculpture, made by divine inspiration. The bishop Gualfredus, the legend continues, bought the image from Seleucius and transported it to Italy on a ship guided by an invisible hand. After various adventures, the Holy Face was handed over to the bishop of Luc- ca in 742 (or 782, according to some).4

3 Relatio Leboini, 1: “Post resurrectionem vero et ascensionem dominicam tanto presentie Christi ardore flagrabat, ut semper gestaret Christum in pectore, semper haberet in ore. Forme igitur corporis Christi quantitate et qualitate diligentissime denotata, liniamentis etiam men- te descriptis, sacratissimum vultum non sua, sed divina arte desculpsit” (ed. G. Schnürer – J.M. Ritz, Sankt Kümmernis, cit., p. 128). Michele Camillo Ferrari is preparing a new edition of the text. 4 Cf. summary of the debate by P. Guidi, “La data nella leggenda di Leobino,” Archivio storico italiano 18/2 (1933), pp. 133–164. 122 Chapter 6

It is quite sure that the crucifix of Lucca is not one of the oldest: it probably dates to the second half of the eleventh century, and evidence attests to similar sculptures from the eighth and ninth centuries. The crucifix kept in Sansepol- cro, for example, is earlier.5 There are other “faces” similar to that of Lucca too: the Majestat Batlló in Barcelona, the Imervard-Kreuz in Braunschweig, the Väversunda crucifix in Östergötland, and that of Forsby in Västergötland. The legend had widespread circulation throughout Europe. The legend’s original text, dated from the ninth or tenth centuries, is lost, and our knowledge of it comes from manuscripts written after the twelfth century. The Relatio Leboini is a reworking of this original, dating from the late eleventh and early twelfth centuries. But there is a later addition, inserted by the canons of Lucca, which essentially consists of a slightly altered version of the pre-existing Relatio, along with the addition of the so-called Appendix of miracles.6 It is in this appendix – written between the late twelfth and early thirteenth centuries – that a Luccan cleric is first introduced. The text describes that during a pilgrimage to Jerusalem the cleric heard – from the mouth of the patriarch of the city – a new explanation of the genesis of the Volto Santo that partially contradicts the earlier narrative: the crucifix was carved by Nicodemus (a character probably absent in the first draft of the text) who modeled the figure of Christ on an imprinted a cloth that had been used to cover the naked body of Christ while he was hanging on the cross:

While the Savior of the world was hanging lifeless on the cross for our salvation, Mary mother of the Lord, Mary Magdalene, Mary of James and Salome were in tears before the cross. To them, almost rebuking them, said the noble decurion Joseph of Arimathea: “You have followed your

5 According to Anna Maria Maetzke it would be the original Volto Santo, discarded in medieval times by the city of Lucca, and substituted by the current one: A.M. Maetzke (ed.), Il Volto Santo di Sansepolcro, Cinisello Balsamo, Silvana, 1994; Ead., “Il Volto Santo di Sansepolcro. Documentata riscoperta del più antico Crocifisso monumentale dell’Occi dente,” in La bellezza del sacro: sculture medievali policrome, Arezzo, s.n., 2002, pp. 1–14. But the statement lacks grounds and the document that should justify it is unreliable: cf. R. Savigni, “Il culto della croce e del Santo Volto nel territorio lucchese (sec. XI-XIV),” in M. Zingoni, La Santa Croce di Lucca, cit., p. 147; A. Meyer, “Der Volto Santo in der Luccheser Gesellschaft des 13. Jahrhunderts,” in M.C. Ferrari – A. Meyer (eds.), Il Volto Santo in Europa, cit, pp. 295–297. See also G. Maggini, Il Volto Santo di Sansepolcro, Sansepolcro, Edizioni della Cattedrale, 2010. 6 Edited by G. Concioni, Contributi alla storia del Volto Santo, cit., pp. 25–39; another edition, albeit partial, in P. Savio, Ricerche storiche sulla Santa Sindone, cit., pp. 356–357; 378–381. An Overview Of Iconography 123

Lord when he lived, and now you mourn him, dead, with wails; but what love token you have for him if you bear his hanging dead, with his body naked on the cross in that manner?” At this voice, one of them, returning to Sion with a fast pace, brought a veil that, adapted with diligent care, could be stretched lengthwise from the head of the Savior to his feet. Then Joseph, after obtaining permission from Pilate, while he was depos- ing the Savior from the cross, gave the veil back to the women; looking at it, they found the image of the Savior imprinted [on it] and his truest representation and shape carved into it. Later in that year, Nicodemus, whom, bringing the mixture of myrrh and aloes had entered this [tomb], was blamed by an angelic vision, because when he had carried the body of the Lord had not bothered to leave to posterity some form and image of him. Then Nicodemus, awakened from sleep, was troubled by the night vision and depicted the most revered face not thanks to his art, but rather thanks to the divine one, in the likeness of the figure that had been found, divinely sculpted, on the women’s veil.7

According to Pietro Savio, this “veil” (velamen) “is an explicit reference to the Shroud and to the effigy that the Lord impressed on it with his very own bloodied body, when it was laid to rest in the tomb.”8 In truth, this interpretation boldly forges the text, which states that the long veil was used to cover Jesus

7 Relatio Leboini, appendix IV: “Tempore quo Salvator mundi pro salute nostra mortuus in cruce penderet, Maria mater Domini, Maria Magdalene, Iacobi et Salome flentes stabant ante crucem; ad quas, quasi improperando, Ioseph ab Arimathia, decurio ille nobilis, inquit: “Dominum vestrum vivum secute estis, et modo mortuum lamentantes plangitis, sed cuius amoris indicium in eum reservatis, cum ipsum mortuum sic nudo corpore in cruce pendere substinetis?” Ad cuius vocem una illarum, veloci gradu in Syon revertens, velamen attulit, quod diligenti cura adaptantes, a capite Salvatoris usque ad pedes, in longum protenderet. Ioseph vero postea, a Pylato licentia impetrata, cum de cruce Salvatorem deponeret, velamen mulieribus reddit; quod ille intuentes, expressam Salva toris ymaginem et per omnia liniamenta, verissimam eius similitudinem et formam in eo sculptam invenerunt. Post hec infra eundem annum, Nichodemus, qui mirce et aloes ferens misturam, ad ipsum intraverat, angelica visione correctus est, quare, cum domini- cum corpus ipse baiulasset, aliquam eius formam et ymaginem posteris relinquere non curasset. Nichodemus vero a sonno evigilans, de nocturna visione extitit sollicitus, et ad similitudinem illius figure, que in velamine mulierum inventa fuit divinitus sculpta reve- rendissimum Vultum non suo, sed potius divino composuit artificio” (ed. G. Concioni, Contributi alla storia del Volto Santo, cit., p. 30; cf. P. Savio, Ricerche storiche sulla Santa Sindone, cit., p. 356–357). 8 P. Savio, Ricerche storiche sulla Santa Sindone, cit., p. 357. 124 Chapter 6 while he was on the cross, and not to bury him.9 The veil was removed at the time of the deposition from the cross, and returned to the women: by then it already bore the form of the body of Jesus that it had held. It is clear that the author of this legend did not have the Shroud of Turin in mind, inasmuch as it shows the body of a man lying on his back, as if recumbent in a tomb, with his arms crossed over his body. This veil of Nicodemus, instead, was reportedly placed on Christ’s body while he was still on the cross, and therefore with his arms outstretched. It is noteworthy that the sindonologists overlooked the use of the terms exprimo and sculpo, which do not seem to indicate a simple imprint left on a sheet, like a drawing, but rather a sheet that has assumed a sculp- tural form and appears to be three-dimensional in the shape of the body that it had wrapped. The women of the story, on the other hand, had adhered the fabric to the body, adapting (adaptantes) it with care to the anatomy of the Savior (“from the head of the Savior to his feet”) therefore only on the front, and not on the back, as is seen in the image on the Shroud. That is why Nicode- mus was able to use the sheet as a model to carve his wooden crucifix: according to the legend, it precisely depicted Jesus on the cross and reproduced his features three-dimensionally, almost as if it were a sculpture. This legend, concerning the supernatural fabrication of a three-dimensional wooden crucifix, does not in any way suggest an object with the characteristics of the Shroud. It is of no use to refer to this passage of Gervase of Tilbury’s Otia imperialia that, like the anonymous Latin sermon, endorses the Luccan legend:

There is another figure of the Lord expressed on a linen cloth which, as one reads in the Gesta de Vultu Lucano, had this origin: when our Lord and redeemer was hanging from the cross, stripped of his clothes, Joseph of Arimathea, approaching Mary, the mother of the Lord, and the other women who had followed the Lord to his passion, said: “Alas, the love with which you were bonded to this righteous can be assessed by the results! For you have not covered He whom you have seen hanging naked on the cross.” Moved by this addressing of rebuke, His mother and the others who were with her, going quickly, bought the purest linen cloth, so large and long that it covered the whole body of the crucified; and when it, hanging from the cross, was taken down, the effigy of the whole body

9 Therefore, it is not true that: “the crucifix was carved using the Shroud as a model is claimed by several medieval ‘legendarists’“ (G.D. Guerra, “Il ‘Volto Santo di Lucca’ è una copia della Sindone?” in E. Marinelli – A. Russi [eds.], Sindone 2000. Congresso mondiale, San Severo, Gerni, 2002, p. 336). An Overview Of Iconography 125

appeared imprinted on the linen cloth.10 Nicodemus fashioned the Holy Face of Lucca after its likeness and shape, and in its midst he enclosed the linen cloth with a flask of the Lord’s blood.11

Although here the story is shorter and does not dwell on an accurate description of the nature of the image, the imprint is of Christ on the cross with open arms, not his deposed corpse in a tomb. Gervase adds that the linen cloth, along with a relic of the blood, would have been inserted in the crucifix, inside what is still visible as a groove in the wood, enclosed behind a little door. Gervase, who explicitly states that he was inspired by the legend of Lucca, reg- ularly saw one of these monumental crucifixes in Braunschweig where an impressive Holy Face was worshiped in the residence of Otto IV of Brunswick (for whom the Otia were written). The title Volto (“Face”) refers to the initial stage of the legend about the image of a face, not a crucifix. As it has been suggested, perhaps the worship of the crucifix replaced a pre-existing worship of a face icon like that of the Ve- ronica, assimilating the name.12 In any case, the legend of Lucca and its ante- cedents are incompatible with the history and nature of the Turinese relic. Despite this, there have been numerous attempts to associate the two objects and even to turn the wooden crucifix into a copy modeled after the image

10 Alternative translation: “and when it was taken down, the effigy of the whole body hanging from the cross appeared imprinted on the linen cloth.” This is because some editions feature pendentis de cruce apparuit instead of pendens de cruce apparuit (for example F. Liebrecht, Des Gervasius von Tilbury Otia imperialia, Hannover, Rümpler, 1856). 11 Gervasius Tilleberiensis, Otia imperialia, III,24: “Est alia in lintheo Domini figura expressa que, ut in Gestis de Vultu Lucano legitur, hoc suum habuit inicium. Cum Dominus ac Redemptor noster exutus vestimentis suis in cruce penderet, accedens Ioseph ab Arima- chia ad Mariam matrem Domini et ad alias mulieres que secute sunt Dominum ad passionem suam, ait: “O – inquit – quanto amore huic iusto tenebamini ex ipso rerum effectu perpendi potest! Quem enim nudum in cruce pendere vidistis, non operuistis.” Quo casti- gationis alloquio mota, mater eius et alie que cum ea erant, cito euntes, emerunt lintheum mundissimum, tam amplum et extensum quod totum crucifixi corpus operiebat; cumque deponeretur, pendens de cruce apparuit tocius corporis effigies in linteo expressa. Ad cuius similitudinem et exemplar, Nicodemus Vultum Lucanum effigiavit, in cuius medio lintheum inclusit, et ampullam sanguinis Domini” (ed. S.E. Banks – J.W. Binns, Recreation for an Emperor, cit., p. 598). Robert Drews reports this story as if it referred to the image of Edessa, without mentioning the statue of Lucca, which the text explicitly mentions. This is certainly not helpful (In Search of the Shroud of Turin, cit., p. 49). 12 Thus C. Frugoni, “Una proposta per il Volto Santo,” cit. 126 Chapter 6 of the Shroud13 (regardless of the obvious differences: the face of the Lucca sculpture has no signs of distress, no bleeding wounds either in the face, on the side or in the hands, it is clad in a tunic and has distinctive and very different facial features).

Orderic Vitalis

Orderic Vitalis’ Ecclesiastical History is the last of the three Latin texts brought in as evidence by supporters of the Shroud-Mandylion identity. In the 1130s, Orderic, the most important Norman historian, referred to the Edessean cloth as:

The toparch Abgar ruled over Edessa. To him the Lord Jesus sent a sacred letter and the precious linen cloth with which he had wiped the sweat of his face, and on which the miraculously imprinted image of the Savior himself shines, which shows the appearance and the volume of the body of the Lord to those who observe it.14

The value of the testimony is “a bit vague” even for André-Marie Dubarle.15 An- other sindonologist, Emmanuel Poulle, rightly notes that the corporis species is the generic “bodily appearance,” while the quantitas is the Vitruvian technical term indicating the “volume” of what is represented: the image of the sole face of Christ, seen almost as a three-dimensional relief as a result of the miraculous impression.16 It is most evident that these few words do not constitute valid grounds to state that “Orderic Vitalis clearly stated, in his Historia Ecclesi- astica, that the Mandylion of Edessa bore the image of Jesus’ whole body,”17

13 For example, E. Valentini, “Nuovi documenti sulla S. Sindone,” Salesianum 4 (1942), pp. 76–83; A.M. Dubarle, Historie ancienne du Linceul de Turin jusqu’au XIIIe siècle, cit., pp. 61–66; G.D. Guerra, Il Volto Santo e la Sindone: un confronto al computer, Lucca, Nuova Lucca Editrice, 2000. 14 Ordericus Vitalis, Historia ecclesiastica, IX,11: “Abgarus Toparcha Edessae regnavit; cui Dominus Iesus sacram epistolam destinavit, et pretiosum linteum, quo faciei suae sudo- rem extersit, et in quo eiusdem Salvatoris imago mirabiliter depicta refulget; quae dominici corporis speciem et quantitatem intuentibus exhibet” (ed. A. Le Prévost, Orderici Vitalis Historiae ecclesiasticae libri tredecim, vol. 3, Paris, Renouard, 1845, p. 564). 15 A.M. Dubarle, Historie ancienne du Linceul de Turin, cit., p. 58. 16 E. Poulle, “Les sources de l’histoire du linceul de Turin,” cit., pp. 767–768. 17 B. Frale, The Templars and the Shroud of Christ, cit., p. 141. See also D.C. Scavone, The Shroud of Turin. Opposing Viewpoints, San Diego, Greenhaven Press, 1989, p. 88: “This text An Overview Of Iconography 127 which is the polar opposite of the reference to the “sweat of his own face.” Yet again, it is not possible to claim that generic quotations of late Medieval Latin origin, whose authors had no contact whatsoever with the relic, constitute credible certification of its actual characteristics. The tradition of the Edessean cloth arrived in the West only through writings that were often altered, adapted to and merged with other local legends. But none of these changes prevailed: a famous work such as Jacobus de Voragine’s Legenda Aurea, written in the years after 1260, passes on the standard legend of Abgar without any major changes.18 Last but not least, there is the question: how is it possible to sustain two contradictory arguments by which, on the one hand it is said that the true identity of the Mandylion was so well known that it could be easily corrobo- rated by writings of the most disparate origins, while on the other hand, there is such insistence on the secrecy of the relic, and all descriptions conflicting with the sindonologic hypothesis are dismissed using the argument of the deliberate silence, prudence or lack of knowledge of the true nature of the cloth that was never shown outside of its reliquary?19

seems to be saying that more and more people thought that the object which had come to Constantinople from Edessa was a body image and not just a facial image on cloth.” 18 Iacopo da Varazze, Legenda aurea, §159: “Abgar thus realized that he was not to see Christ face to face. Therefore […] he sent a painter to Jesus to make a portrait of the Lord, so that even though he, Abgar, could not see him in the flesh, he could at least imagine him by looking at his portrait. But when the artist came to Jesus, the radiance of the Lord’s coun- tenance was so intense that he could not see his face clearly nor fix his eyes upon it, and so could not make the portrait as ordered. Seeing this, Jesus took a linen cloth that belonged to the artist and pressed it to his face, leaving his image imprinted on it, and sent this to the king. […] It showed the Lord as having fine eyes and a fine brow, and a long face slightly tilted forward, which is a sign of maturity.” Translation by William Granger Ryan. 19 See, for instance, R. Drews’ attempt to solve the problem: In Search of the Shroud of Turin, cit., p. 48: “We must suppose, then, that whoever (c. 800?) composed the document from which the ‘Latin Abgar Legend’ was translated had been told that the cloth bore an imprint of Jesus’ entire body. At the time, however, nobody thought of the cloth as a burial shroud. Those who had seen the larger imprint must have been able to believe the very strange story that, in order to satisfy king Abgar’s curiosity about his appearance, Jesus had placed his naked body on a large cloth and imprinted upon it his full image. It is not difficult to imagine that the custodians of the cloth might have been perplexed and embarrassed about that full image. In fact, we may be quite certain that if they had exhibited the entire cloth, and had had no explanation for it other than that it was Jesus’ gift to Abgar, the proprietors of the cloth would not only have encountered utter disbelief, but would have so outraged the public that the cloth would have been destroyed.” Drews’ book follows the lines of Wilson’s theory, but it was dismissed by sindonologists because, unlike them, Drews reckons that the Shroud of Turin is not the authentic burial linen of Jesus, but that it has been originated in a Gnostic environment. 128 Chapter 6

Iconography of the Mandylion

In addition to the literary descriptions of the Mandylion of Edessa, its iconographic representations are of great importance. In 2010, Ian Wilson announced that he had identified the oldest representation of the Edessean acheiropoieton image on a small fragment of a sixth-century mosaic found in Edessa (now Şanlıurfa), which depicts a face. (Figure 11) Philip Dayvault also discusses this fragment in an effort to align it with the face of the Shroud. Nei- ther author cites the other so it is difficult to understand who originated the idea. In any case, neither Dayvault nor Wilson demonstrates convincingly that the mosaic portrays the face of Christ in accordance with the iconography of the Mandylion. Because the mosaic is small, it contains only a face and bears no identification marks, it is not possible to see even what was around the face, nor to know if some other part of the body was depicted along with it, because it is in a fragmentary state.20 For some years, it was believed a Mandylion was included among the decorations of the apse of the Georgian church of Tsromi (Cromi, წრომი), but this turned out to be incorrect.21 Also in Georgia, among the frescoes in the church of Santa Croce in Telovani (თელოვანი), dating from the turn of the eighth century and the beginnings of the ninth, there is an image of the face of Christ in a medallion, surrounded by the Apostles, above the apse window. This is not a real Mandylion, but it is an image that may have been influenced by the legend of Abgar or have influenced Georgian representations of the Mandylion that became common in the following centuries. Unfortunately, the fresco is quite damaged and the outlines of the image can barely be distinguished.22 (Figure 12)

20 I. Wilson, The Shroud. The 2000-Year-Old Mystery Solved, cit., p. 2 and plate 19a; P.E. Day- vault, Face of the God-man, available at http://shrouduniversity.com/docs/FACEof the GOD-man-PDF-FINAL-LOC5-C1.pdf. Dayvault has announced the publication of a book. The advances that can be read on the Internet are well below the minimum standard of scientific acceptability. 21 Thus thought T. Velmans, “Les mosaïques pariétales en Géorgie et les problèmes qu’elles posent,” in Mosaïque. Recueil d’hommages à Henri Stern, Paris, Éditions recherches sur les civilisations, 1983, p. 341; it has later on been demonstrated that it was a fragment of the image of the Virgin surrounded by the apostles: Z. Sxirtʾlaʒe, “À propos du décor absidal de Cʾromi,” Revue des études géorgiennes et caucasiennes 6–7 (1990–1991), pp. 163–183. 22 Cf. Z. Skhirtladze, “Under the Sign of the Triumph of Holy Cross,” Cahiers archéologi- ques 47 (1999), pp. 101–118; Id., ადრეული შუა საუკუნეების ქართული კედლის მხატვრობა, Tbilisi, Sapʿatʿriarkos saekʿlesio khelovnebis kʿvlevis tsentʿri, 2008. An Overview Of Iconography 129

Figure 11 Fragment of an Edessean mosaic, Şanlıurfa Museum (sixth century ce). Author’s photo archive.

Figure 12 Face of Christ. Telovani, Georgia, Church of the Holy Cross ( from the turn of the eighth century and the beginnings of the ninth ce). Author’s photo archive. 130 Chapter 6

Figure 13 King Abgar with the Edessean image, detail. Dayr al-Suryân, Egypt (tenth century ce). Photo: Karel Innemée.

An ancient representation of the Mandylion, probably dating from the tenth century, was discovered in a fresco at the Egyptian monastery of Dayr al-Suryân. The image is badly deteriorated and what remains of the face of Christ is almost impossible to see, but it is at least possible to see the shape of the relic. It is a small cloth with the face of Jesus, with his neck and a short beard. The cloth is shown being held up by Abgar, whose hand and royal robe are also visible.23 (Figure 13) The famous diptych from the Monastery of Saint Catherine in Sinai, an ancient pictorial document of the Mandylion, dates to a time shortly after the translation of the relics to Constantinople (944). The diptych depicts Abgar on the throne – portrayed with the features of Constantine Porphyrogennetos – receiving the sacred cloth from Ananias.24 (Figure 14) On a white rectangular

23 Cf. K.C. Innemée – L. van Rompay, “Deir al-Surian (Egypt): New Discoveries of 2001–2002,” Hugoye 5/2 (2002), pp. 245–263 (available at www.bethmardutho.org/images/hugoye/vol- ume5/hv5n2innemee_vanrompay.pdf). 24 Cf. K. Weitzmann, “The Mandylion and Constantine Porphyrogennetos,” Cahiers archéologiques 11 (1960), pp. 163–184. It has been proposed that this diptych was originally a triptych which would have contained, in its center, only an image of the face of the Mandylion as that of Genoa which will be discussed further on. It is unthinkable that the An Overview Of Iconography 131

Figure 14 King Abgar. Detail from a diptych. Monastery of St. Catherine on Mount Sinai, Egypt (tenth century ce). Author’s photo archive. towel, decorated with fringes, is the face of Christ with neck and short beard visible, from which a cross pattée branches off. There is no similarity with the Shroud of Turin. Neither the form of the cloth, nor the image are similar, despite some unsupported claims in this regard.25 Over time, the ancient Eastern iconographic tradition, which persists to this day, developed a rather stable typology of the Edessean image, as described by Georges Gharib:

work dates back to the fifth century (as written by M.G. Siliato, Il mistero della Sindone, Casale, Piemme, 1989, p. 219). 25 Like this one: “The painter, while respecting the large size of the burial cloth – which corresponds to the cloth of Turin – portrays only the Face: a child of his time and of his culture, he could not possibly represent the entire body without clothes” (M.G. Siliato, Il mistero della Sindone, cit., p. 219). 132 Chapter 6

The canonical type of the Mandylion only depicts the Face of Christ, without neck. A rigorous symmetry of the two halves of the face is the rule, including the strands of hair and the beard. The Face is depicted in the background of the Mandylion (or “towel”) with clear reference to the prodigious origins of the image. The towel is generally silver white and adorned, most of the time with floral motifs. Often the upper ends are knotted. In the most recent icons, the Mandylion is supported from above – but more often from the sides – by adoring angels, whose presence accentuates the sacred aspect of the image. The Face is inserted into a completely round, gold-colored nimbus. There is also a cross, of which the three visible arms are more or less wide, to contain the trigraph of the name of God. The Face of Christ has the regular features of a living thirty- year-old person in full possession of all his faculties. Any sign of pain or of the Passion is absent, contrary to what can be seen on the so-called “Veronica” known in the West. This excludes its identification with the Shroud of Turin. The hair, parted in the middle, falls free on the two sides, often ending in two strands on one side and three on the other: this has been interpreted, belatedly, as a symbol of the dual nature of Christ and the Trinity of Persons. Often, from the middle line, three or five curls of hair are detached, falling on his forehead to the right (of the beholder). In the case of the Keramion, the direction of the curls is to the left. Christ’s eyes are large and open, and seem to stare at the viewer as if he intended to scrutinize the depths of consciences.26

In the oldest depictions, the presence of lateral fringes is very evident; the background can be white or decorated with floral motifs or with rhombi or lozenges, which resemble the damask cloth and the weaving of the threads that make up the fabric. The creases of the canvas are often depicted too, and in many cases the fabric is crossed by colored bands. In a fresco dated 1192, in the church of Panagia tou Arakou in Lagoudera, on the island of Cyprus, the face of Christ, with nimbus and cross pattée, emerges from a background of simple white fabric, with fringes and red bands and with a garment that covers his shoulders (and therefore does not depend on the archetype of a naked man). (Figure 15) In Cyprus, in the church of the Archan- gel Michael in Kato Lefkara (painted at the end of twelfth century) the bands are red and blue. (Figure 16) In Pskov, Russia, in the Transfiguration church of the Mirozh Monastery, a Mandylion painted around 1140 has a background decorated with rhombi and stylized designs. (Figure 17)

26 G. Gharib, Le icone. Storia e culto, Rome, Città Nuova, 1993, p. 85. An Overview Of Iconography 133

Figure 15 Mandylion. Lagoudera, Cyprus, Church of the Panagia tou Arakou (1192 ce). Author’s photo archive.

Figure 16 Mandylion. Kato Lefkara, Cyprus, Church of Archangel Michael (end of twelfth century ce). Author’s photo archive.

This type of decoration was developed when artists tried to imitate contemporary textiles. At the Museo Sacro Vaticano, for example, there is a large collection of fabric decorated in a way that closely resembles iconographic representations of the Mandylion. A magnificent piece dating from the eighth through tenth centuries, of white linen, has fringe on two sides and ornamen- tal bands in fake damask decorated with colored threads of silk and wool, from 134 Chapter 6

Figure 17 Mandylion. Pskov, Russia, Transfiguration Church of the Mirozh Monastery (c. 1140 ce). Author’s photo archive. the East:27 (Figure 18) Whether its original function was that of brandeum that had been in contact with relics, or that of liturgical mappula, is a detail of mi- nor relevance. What is important to highlight, is the existence of this and many other examples of ancient sacred textile art that provided an immediate repre- sentative model for the depiction of the Edessean image. The background of the Mandylion is often painted white, the color of the fabric (in which some sindonologists, such as Mark Antonacci, have wanted to see a similarity with the Shroud).28 But other representations of the fabric, as already mentioned,

27 W.F. Volbach, I tessuti del Museo Sacro Vaticano, Vatican City, Biblioteca Apostolica Vati- cana, 1942, pp. 48–49. 28 M. Antonacci, The Resurrection of the Shroud, New York, Evans, 2000, pp. 131: “An even stronger indication that the Shroud and Mandylion are the same object is evident from the coloring of the Mandylion’s copies. The consistent color of the background of these copies is ivory white, the natural color of linen, just like the Shroud’s original background.” Burial clothes are white, handkerchiefs are white, bedsheets are white, anything made of linen is white: I would like to ask Antonacci what color, in his opinion, would be a better choice for a painter. Equally preposterous is the following consideration “The portrait of a head on a landscape-shaped background is unnatural and contrary to the virtually universal artistic convention found throughout art history. Besides being visually unap- pealing, it is a wasteful use of artistic space. This may be one of the most compelling An Overview Of Iconography 135

Figure 18 Precious linen textile in the Museo Sacro Vaticano, inv. 1256 (eighth-tenth centuries ce). Author’s photo archive. sometimes have a background decorated with geometric patterns that represent, as André Grabar has noted, a stylized representation of the weft and the warp of the fabric. Initially, Ian Wilson proposed a pro-sindonic explanation for this detail too: it is the realistic reproduction of a golden trellis that, resting on the visible surface of the folded Mandylion, would have been at the top of the shrine where the Shroud was kept. The alleged aureus lattice, or cover of the reliquary, would have had a circular hole in the center, through which only the face depicted on the Shroud would have been visible. (Figure 19) This round window would serve as the inspiration for the splendid circular nimbus that appears on almost every icon of Christ. Also, according to Siliato,

the Shroud was exposed folded in such an ingenious manner that it hid the imprint of the stripped bloodied corpse and exhibited only, and

reasons to support Wilson’s hypothesis” (p. 132). The explanation is wrong because, in the first place, the Mandylion is often square-shaped in the paintings, rather than rectangular, thus showing that there were no fixed rules regarding this. Secondly, if the author wanted to represent a rectangular towel, the easiest way to do it would have been to draw a rectangle laid out lengthwise. Considering that the painting was to be positioned above the arch, under the dome of the churches, it makes perfect sense. What could be wrong about this? 136 Chapter 6

Figure 19 The alleged reliquary of the Shroud seen from above. Drawing of the face by Claudio Votta.

chastely, the Face. It was protected by a frame of gold and enamels, woven into a trellis pattern, which used to be the decoration of the royal vest- ments at the time of Abgar.29

In certain images of the Mandylion, the fringe spreads out at both ends to form small circles; an example is the fresco of the church of the Savior of Spas-Ne- reditsa, dating from the year 1199, near Veliky Novgorod.30 (Figure 20) Wilson believed that these circles were the heads of numerous nails inserted in a wooden board that had been used to stretch the fabric of the Shroud and affix it to its support. This is the wood panel mentioned in the Byzantine literary tradition when describing the Edessean reliquary. (Figure 21) That the decorated background of the Mandylion represents a stylized golden trellis leaning on the chest, is untenable, as Herbert Kessler has pointed

29 M.G. Siliato, Sindone: mistero dell’impronta di duemila anni fa, cit., pp. 169–170. Thus also D.C. Scavone, “Joseph of Arimathea, the Holy Grail, and the Edessa Icon,” Arthuriana 9/4 (1999), p. 3: “A number of painted reproductions show that it was kept folded (recall tetradiplon) in a rectangular case and overlaid by a latticework decoration more or less typical of Byzantine icons, with only the face visible in a central circular aperture.” 30 Unfortunately, only photographs are left of this fresco, destroyed in World War II. This one was taken in 1903. An Overview Of Iconography 137

Figure 20 Mandylion. Spas-Nereditsa, Russia, Church of the Savior (1199 ce). Photo: Ivan Fedorovich Chistjakov.

Figure 21 Pattern of the folding of the Shroud and distribution of the nails that fixed it to the board, according to Ian Wilson (1978). Photo: Ian Wilson. out.31 Many other illustrations of fabrics bear the same decorative motif in far

31 “The pattern of the Mandylion need have nothing to do with Late Antique metalwork as Ian Wilson has contended” (H.L. Kessler, Spiritual Seeing. Picturing God’s Invisibility in Medieval Art, Philadelphia, University of Pennsylvania Press, 2000, p. 217, n. 26). 138 Chapter 6

Figure 22 Lamentation over the Dead Christ. Gorno Nerezi, Macedonia, Church of St. Panteleimon (1164 ce). Author’s photo archive.

Figure 23 Last Supper fresco. Göreme, Turkey, Karanlık kilise (eleventh century ce). Photo: Catherine Jolivet-Lévy An Overview Of Iconography 139

Figure 24 Mandylion and Keramion. Codex of John Climacus’ Scala Paradisi, Vatican Library, codex Ross. 251, f. 12v (eleventh-early twelfth century ce). Photo: Vatican Library. different contexts than any reliquary.32 This may be seen, for example, in the fresco of the Lamentation over the dead Christ in the Church of St. Pan- teleimon in Gorno Nerezi, in Macedonia, dated 1164. The sheet is decorated with geometric patterns and colored bands on the edges. (Figure 22) Another example is found in the decoration of the fabric of the table of the Last Supper in one of the frescoes of the Karanlık Kilise (“Dark Church”) in Göreme (probably eleventh century), (Figure 23) which is nearly identical to the background of the Mandylion of Spas-Nereditsa. A beautiful miniature (Figure 24) in a codex of John Climacus’ Scala Paradisi (eleventh-early twelfth century):

contains a rare depiction of the double image of the Face of Christ: the first, the Mandylion, imprinted on fabric, the second, the Keramion, on clay. The Mandylion is rendered as a white damask fabric, adorned with

32 Thus also H.D. Sox, File on the Shroud, Sevenoaks, Coronet, 1978, p. 56: “The trellis background that Wilson imagines as concealing the true nature of the Shroud was widely used in the Orthodox world by icon painters and embroiderers. It is to be found on numerous icons, not just those of Christ in the acheiropoieton form.” 140 Chapter 6

fringes and decorated with a pattern of rhombi, painted in red. The Kera- mion is red, with the same pattern of rhombi painted in white.33

If the pattern of rhombi was intended to represent a golden lattice, it would not be reproduced on the Keramion made of clay. Moreover, legend has it that the golden frame was added to the Mandylion after Abgar received it; the miraculous reproduction of the Keramion occurred in Hierapolis, shortly after Ananias left Jerusalem. He had not yet arrived at the king’s palace, and the tile never reached Edessa. According to André Grabar, the “representation of a white fabric with fringes, embellished with red patterns” of lozenges and ro- settes is the sort of fabric “that is often imitated by the early Christian floor mosaics, such as those in Antioch.”34 Ian Wilson illustrated an example of this type of weaving from a statue of the second-century (or perhaps third) por- traying Uthal, Parthian king of Hatra, from northern Iraq.35 (Figure 25) This simply confirms that this type of embellishment is a common decorative pattern found on textiles, not a trellis of gold. A logical consideration should be added to the iconographic comparisons: the process of affixing the cloth onto a table by nailing the side fringe makes sense if one thinks of a simple, one-layer cloth, but when one imagines the same procedure conducted on a hypothetically long sheet folded into several overlapping layers, it would be cumbersome and nonsensical. In what manner would it have been possible to affix it to the board and keep it stretched and folded at the same time? Certainly not in the obvious way, namely, with nails passing through the various layers of the folded fabric, because in this case we should search the fabric of the Shroud of Turin for nail holes, and for the signs of nail heads (and probably also for rust, as is common in ancient nails).36 If

33 M.R. Menna, “Il Rossiano 251: una particolare illustrazione della Scala Paradisi di Giovanni Climaco,” Bullettino dell’Istituto Storico Italiano per il Medio Evo 110/2 (2008), p. 266. Cf. H.L. Kessler, “La Scala celeste di Giovanni Climaco,” in G. Wolf – C. Dufour Bozzo – A.R. Calderoni Masetti (eds.), Mandylion. Intorno al Sacro Volto da Bisanzio a Genova, cit., pp. 90–91. 34 A. Grabar, L’iconoclasme byzantin, Paris, Flammarion, 1984, p. 52. 35 I. Wilson, The Turin Shroud, cit., p. 113. 36 Suffice it to recall that on the Shroud of Turin are other noticeable signs of this kind, produced in modern times. It was already known, for example, that during the exhibition of 1898 (that lasted nearly nine days), the Shroud was displayed in a gilt frame not long enough to contain it in full length, so they had to fold it a little to make it fit, fixing it with thumbtacks. This is mentioned in a report by the master of ceremonies of the archbish- opric at the time (edited by G.M. Zaccone, “Le ‘Memorie’ del cerimoniere arcivescovile Carlo Franco sull’ostensione del 1898,” Sindon, n.s. 12 [1999], pp. 40–41, 52, 64). The An Overview Of Iconography 141

Figure 25 Statue of Uthal, king of Hatra ( from Temple III). Mosul Museum, Iraq (second century ce). Photo: Ian Wilson. 142 Chapter 6 instead, as Wilson asserts, the Shroud was secured to the table by means of strings or fringes sewn on the edges of the fabric, (Figure 21) we should find these strings or at least evidence of their seams on the Shroud. Until a few years ago, the edges of the Shroud were not visible because they were covered by a surround, but during the most recent restoration, in 2002, they were uncovered and revealed neither strings nor signs of seams.37 Also, a metallic trellis resting on the surface of the Shroud for a long time – perhaps centuries – would have left some indentation or yellowing on the surface of the fabric, which it is entirely absent, as is evidence of exposure to light and dust that we would expect to find on fabric that has long been folded and closed within a frame, leaving only one side exposed. It is more productive to look for parallels in a similar iconographic tradition with the fabrics, not only in terms of the geometric pattern, but also with the lateral fringes that form circles. Both are found in three illustrations of the Christian Topography by a sixth-century author known as Cosmas Indi- copleustes.38 In his drawing of the cosmic building, the sky, seen as the lid of a trunk with a barrel vault, serves as the backdrop to a face of Christ within a circle. This sky, in a miniature featured in a Cappadocian codex of the eleventh century, is shown as a curtain with a pattern of lozenges and golden decorative designs on a blue background. According to Psalm 103,2, God stretched out the heavens “like a curtain.”39 (Figure 26) Another miniature, included in a Con- stantinopolitan codex of the ninth century, is even more explicit: the sky from which the figure of Christ emerges is made up of a series of “rhombi of pearls,

resulting indelible “roundish bruises” left by the thumbtacks were seen during the private exhibition of the Shroud in the church of the Confraternity of the Holy Shroud of Turin on 25th June 1997. In 2008, the company HAL9000-Haltadefinizione of Novara (www.hal tadefinizione.com) carried out a high definition photo-shoot of the Shroud, taking 1649 photographs that allow for the observation of one-fiftieth of a millimeter detail: these are absolutely the best existing images of the relic. Technicians were able to observe, photograph and show signs of rust and holes left by the thumbtacks. If a century ago it took only nine days for some thumbtacks to leave marks on the fabric, what would have been left by ancient nails set for years on end? 37 I. Wilson, The Blood and the Shroud, London, Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1998, p. 153: “Frustra tingly, the edges of the Shroud have never been properly documented photographic ally, due to Princess Clotilde’s blue surround.” The blue surrond is now gone, but nothing was found underneath. 38 About the cosmology of Cosmas, see G. Ricciotti, La cosmologia della Bibbia e la sua trasmissione fino a Dante, Brescia, Morcelliana, 1932, pp. 49–61, and S. Faller, “The World According to Cosmas Indicopleustes,” Transcultural Studies 1 (2011), pp. 193–232 (also at www.transculturalstudies.org). 39 Cod. Sinaiticus graecus 1186, f. 69r. An Overview Of Iconography 143

Figure 26 Cosmas Indicopleustes, pattern of the universe. Monastery of St. Catherine on Mount Sinai, Egypt, codex Sin. gr. 1186, f. 69r. (eleventh century ce). Photo: Herbert Kessler. united to form a gate on a gold background, with turquoise stones in the inter- section of the gates and green lilies in the middle of the rhombi.”40 (Figure 27) An Athonite codex dating from the eleventh century represents the curtains of the Mosaic Tabernacle, which were linked together by loops and clasps (Exo- dus 26,1–14), as in the background of many representations of the Mandylion we find damask curtains in the form of rhombi and squares, with or without floral or decorative patterns, with fringes that widen at the end.41 (Figure 28) These are the parallels one has to look for in order to understand the meaning of the iconography of the Mandylion of Edessa; an iconography well repre-

40 C. Stornajolo, Le miniature della Topografia cristiana di Cosma Indicopleuste, Milan, Hoepli, 1908, p. 45 (cod. Vaticanus graecus 699, f. 89r). 41 Cod. Laurentianus Mediceus Plutei 9.28, f.109r. See also the correspondent miniature of the codex Sinaiticus graecus 1186 (f. 79r.) featuring square motifs and no flowers. 144 Chapter 6

Figure 27 Cosmas Indicopleustes, Heavens with enthroned Christ. Vatican Library, codex Vat. gr. 699, f. 89r (ninth century ce). Photo: Herbert Kessler.

Figure 28 Cosmas Indicopleustes, the curtains of the Mosaic Tabernacle. Florence, Italy, Biblioteca Medicea Laurenziana, cod. Laur. Med. Pl. 9.28, f. 109r (eleventh century ce). Photo: Herbert Kessler. An Overview Of Iconography 145

Figure 29 Sainte Face, Laon Cathedral, France ( first half of the thirteenth century ce). Photo: Vassiliev. sented, for example, by the so-called Holy Face of Laon, a table of Slavic origin, dating from the first half of the thirteenth century. (Figure 29)

The representation of the fabric, around the figure of Christ, fills the entire icon […]. Woven or imprinted designs stand out on a white background: yellow small strokes intersect to form lozenges, within which there are schematic lily flowers; tiny blue circles are visible at the inter- sections of the lozenges. A row of red and blue fringes, with a knot at their end, form a row at the base of the handkerchief.42

That the icon is not intended to depict a burial shroud is clearly described on the painting itself: it is an “image of the Lord on the handkerchief (на ꙋбрꙋсѣ [na ubrusě]).”

42 A. Grabar, La Sainte Face de Laon, Prague, Seminarium kondakovianum, 1931, p. 6. Cf. G. Morello – G. Wolf (eds.), Il volto di Cristo, cit., pp. 97–99 (including bibliography). 146 Chapter 6

More recently, Ian Wilson has abandoned the idea of the golden trellis and recognized that we are dealing with only one of many possible types of textile decoration. His most recent designs for reconstruction omit the trellis and the side circles with the nails.43 However, sindonologists that he has inspired con- tinue to repeat his old reconstruction (Figure 21) and speak of a “trellis of lozenges” that covered the fabric.44 Ian Wilson has also brought attention to a mosaic of the Mandylion that was located a few meters from the Constantinopolitan chapel of the Pharos, in the basilica of Hagia Sophia, that was still visible in the second half of the seventeenth century.45 The mosaics in the basilica, upon whose dates scholars have not agreed (proposed dates range between 867 and 1356),46 have undergone several renovations and restorations and those in the apse remained in view for a long time, as seen in two illustrations by visitors Guillaume Grelot (1672) and Cornelius Loos (1710), but by 1750, they had been covered with stucco or plaster. During restoration by the Fossati brothers (1847–1849) the mosaics were revealed and then covered once more for religious reasons.47 They were made visible again following the restoration by Thomas Whittemore (1935– 1939).48 According to Grelot’s engraving, the Mandylion was facing the apse where a large enthroned Virgin was located at the center of the vault of the bema between two archangels.49 (Figure 30) Today, the Virgin is clearly visible, and the archangels are partially preserved, (Figure 31) unfortunately, the Man- dylion that Grelot rendered in the center is nowhere to be seen. This detail, too, was not present in Loos’ drawings (Figure 32) or in those of the Fossati broth-

43 I. Wilson, The Shroud. The 2000-Year-Old Mystery Solved, cit., p. 141, fig. 25. 44 For example E. Marinelli, La Sindone. Testimone di una presenza, cit., pp. 36 and 52, and p. 9 of non-numbered plates. 45 I. Wilson, The Shroud. The 2000-Year-Old Mystery Solved, cit., p. 179. 46 About the mosaics of the basilica, soon, M. Della Valle, Costantinopoli e il suo impero: arte, architettura, urbanistica nel millennio bizantino, Milan, Jaca Book, 2007, pp. 90–94, and M. Bernabò, “L’arte bizantina dopo l’iconoclastia e la datazione dei mosaici nell’abside di Santa Sofia a Costantinopoli,” in G. Wolf – C. Dufour Bozzo – A.R. Calderoni Masetti (eds.), Intorno al Sacro Volto. Genova, Bisanzio e il Mediterraneo (secoli XI-XIV), cit., pp. 31–50. 47 Thus Giuseppe Fossati himself: “Covered, in this case, meant to save them, only to be, in less fanatic times, brought back to light. Such was the constant desire of the excellent monarch” (Rilievi storico-artistici sulla architettura bizantina dal IV al XV e fino al XIX secolo, Milan, Bernardoni di C. Rebeschini and C., 1890, p. 40). 48 Cf. N.B. Teteriatnikov, Mosaics of Hagia Sophia, Istanbul. The Fossati Restoration and the Work of the Byzantine Institute, Washington, Dumbarton Oaks, 1998. 49 G.J. Grelot, Relation nouvelle d’un voyage de Constantinople, Paris, Rocolet, 1680, p. 148. The image is between pages 146 and 147 and is also available at http://digi.ub.uni-heidelberg. de/diglit/grelot1680/0166. An Overview Of Iconography 147

Figure 30 Apse of Hagia Sophia, Istanbul, Turkey (between 867 and 1356 ce), in an engraving by Guillaume Grelot, Relation nouvelle d’un voyage de Constantinople, Paris, Rocolet, 1680, p. 148

Figure 31 Apse of Hagia Sophia, Istanbul, Turkey (between 867 and 1356 ce). Author’s photo archive. 148 Chapter 6

Figure 32 Apse of Hagia Sophia, Istanbul, Turkey (between 867 and 1356 ce), in an engraving by Cornelius Loos (1710 ce). Photo: Bob Atchison. ers.50 According to Cyril Mango and Ernest J.W. Hawkins, who worked on those mosaics and closely examined the vault, Grelot’s drawing is erroneous because there never was a Mandylion in the vault, instead, that space is occupied by a golden mosaic, without images, identical to that found in the background of the vault and the apse.51 In any case it is folly to rely on Grelot’s seventeenth- century engraving, which shows the usual image of a rectangular handkerchief bearing a face of Christ with long hair without any element reminiscent of the Shroud.

50 Regarding the restoration and the drawings of the Fossati brothers, V. Hoffmann (ed.), Santa Sofia ad Istanbul: sei secoli di immagini ed il lavoro di restauro di Gaspare Fossati, Mantova, Casa del Mantegna, 1999. 51 C. Mango – E.J.W. Hawkins, “The Apse Mosaics of St. Sophia at Istanbul,” Dumbarton Oaks Papers 19 (1965), p. 115, note 1, p. 132 and plates 1 and 54; cf. also C. Mango, Materials for the Study of the Mosaics of St. Sophia, Washington, Dumbarton Oaks Studies, 1962, pp. 80–86, drawings by Loos, Grelot and Fossati reproduced in appendix. An Overview Of Iconography 149

Figure 33 Burnt holes on the Shroud.

Flowers or Holes?

Some representations of the Mandylion feature large circles instead of the rhombi decoration. Based on these, some sindonologists have identified these as an artistic representation of some small holes on the Shroud, known as poker holes, which are approximately two centimeters in diameter (on average) and were caused by burns in the fabric. (Figure 33) According to this theory, iconographers observed the strange holes, visible through the upper opening of the Mandylion’s reliquary containing the folded Shroud, and they depicted them in their paintings next to the face of Christ. This hypothesis is untenable. The holes on the Shroud, which are repeated four times, are located far from the face; in fact, they are next to the hands on one side of the fabric and to the thigh on the other side. If the Shroud had been folded in eight layers when it was enclosed in a reliquary, leaving only the face exposed, no painter would have known of these holes as they would have been hidden in between the folds. An image usually cited as evidence for this is the frescoed representation of the Mandylion inside the Saklı kilise (“Hidden church”) in Göreme, Turkey, dating from the second half or the third quarter of the eleventh century.52

52 This idea came first to R. Morgan, “A Further Speculation on the Date of the Turin Shroud Poker Holes,” Shroud News 38 (1986), pp. 14-18. A photograph of this image is published too in an essay by sindonologist Heinrich Pfeiffer, boasting no less than four spelling mistakes in the caption: “Goceme, Lakli Kilise” (“L’arte e la Sindone,” in B. Barberis – G.M. Zaccone [eds.], Sindone. Cento anni di ricerca, Rome, Istituto Poligrafico e Zecca dello Stato, 1998, p. 117). 150 Chapter 6

Figure 34 Mandylion. Göreme, Turkey, Saklı kilise (eleventh century ce). Photo: Catherine Jolivet-Lévy.

Figure 35 Mandylion. Göreme, Turkey, Karanlık kilise (eleventh century ce). Photo: Mark Guscin. An Overview Of Iconography 151

Figure 34) On close inspection, the light and dark circles that alternate on the background are not drawings of holes in the fabric, but rather decorations, they are “discs enclosing flowers,” as noted by Catherine Jolivet-Lévy. These are placed in the image to enhance the iconographic emphasis on the incarnation of Christ, not his Passion or death.53 In the fresco, which is poorly preserved, floral motifs are better perceived in the light circles, but more faded, which are accompanied by the dark ones (which are, in their turn, also surrounded by a lighter circle). Correctly, sindonologist Lennox Manton stated:

It has been suggested that they could have echoed the round burn holes to be seen in the Shroud. However, comparison with other frescoes in Saklı appear to denote the markings to be a format used by the artists concerned to depict an expensive and sumptuous material such as bro- cade.54

The same “embroidered discs”55 are more visible on the Mandylion in the Karanlık kilise of Göreme (eleventh century) and they leave no room for sindonological interpretations. (Figure 35) The knotted fringes are clearly visible too. The rest is quite standard: we see a rectangular towel with fringes and colored bands, and a face of Christ.56 The pattern of the floral circles is also

53 C. Jolivet-Lévy, “Note sur la représentation du Mandylion dans les églises byzantines de Cappadoce,” in G. Wolf – C. Dufour Bozzo – A.R. Calderoni Masetti (eds.), Intorno al Sacro Volto. Genova, Bisanzio e il Mediterraneo (secoli XI-XIV), cit., p. 137. See also Ead., Les églises byzantines de Cappadoce, Paris, Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique, 1991, pp. 85–87. On the link between the Mandylion and the Incarnation, as well as between the Mandylion and the Eucharist (already mentioned), see also S.E.J. Gerstel, Beholding the Sacred Mysteries. Programs of the Byzantine Sanctuary, Seattle and London, College Art Association, 1999, pp. 68–77. 54 L. Manton, “Aspects of the Sakli Church Frescos in Relation to its Mandylion and that of the Goreme Chapel 21,” Shroud Newsletter 60 (December 2004), www.shroud.com/pdfs/ n60part4.pdf, p. 2. 55 N. Thierry, “Deux notes à propos du Mandylion,” Zograf 11 (1980), p. 16. 56 The Mandylion of Karanlık kilise is guarded by the figure of the Patriarch Abraham. This has led some sindonologists to recall the sacrifice of Abraham in relation to the sacrifice of Jesus’ cross, and therefore to Christ’s burial wrapped in a Shroud. However, many studies have explained the link between the images of the Mandylion and the figures of patriarchs and prophets, who represent the ancestors of Mary and contribute to recall the usual topic of the Incarnation, often related to the Mandylion. Moreover, Abraham’s sacrifice of Isaac is a reminder of the sacrifice of Christ, but not as a reference to the tomb and to the Shroud, but as a pre-figuration of the Eucharistic sacrifice, another topic often related to the iconography of the Mandylion. Cf. T. Velmans, “Valeurs sémantiques du 152 Chapter 6

Figure 36 Alleged reliquary of the Shroud (reconstruction by Mario Moroni). Photo: Mario Moroni. found elsewhere, in the same church, under the figure of Christ.57 (Fig- ure 23) All evidence notwithstanding, some sindonologists make use of their unique ability to transform any objection into proof for their own theories: according to Mario Moroni, for example, the floral decoration is a representation of the “cloth embroidered with flowers, which had a circular opening in the center corresponding to the face”; a cloth which served the purpose of protecting the folded Shroud when locked in its reliquary.58 (Figure 36) Finally, in both representations in Göreme, the face of Jesus includes his neck, as in other portraits. (Figures 13–17, 24, 37, 42) According to Werner Bulst and others, the absence of the neck was one of the identifying characteristics of iconography inspired by the Shroud when it was enclosed in the reliquary. Barbara Frale argues that there are depictions of the face of Christ “as it appears on the Shroud – that is, without the neck – because the man of the

mandylion selon son emplacement ou son association avec d’autres images,” in B. Borkopp-Restle – H. Hallensleben (eds.), Studien zur byzantinischen Kunstgeschichte. Festschrift für Horst Hallensleben zum 65. Geburtstag, Amsterdam, Hakkert, especially p. 183. 57 It has been hypothesized that these roundels might denote the seven seals with which the image of Edessa is associated in the Epistula Abgari. I disagree, because in the Epistula there are seven seals that feature letters of the alphabet, and that are imprinted on the letter, not on the Mandylion. 58 M. Moroni, L’icona di Cristo nelle monete bizantine, cit., pp. 135–137. An Overview Of Iconography 153

Figure 37 Mandylion. Alaverdi Tetraevange- lion, Tbilisi, Georgia, National Centre of Manuscripts, ms. A484, f. 320v (1054 ce). Photo: National Centre of Manuscripts.

Shroud was in a state of rigor mortis and then his neck was bent forward.”59 Thus, if there is no neck, it is the Shroud. But then, when the neck is there, what is it?

Miniatures of the Mandylion

Although Ian Wilson abandoned his earlier interpretation of the pattern of rhombi or intertwined lozenges and now adheres to a more traditional explanation, he continues to believe that it the true crypto-Sindonic nature of the Edessean image may be inferred from evidence found in paintings and miniatures. For example, he cites a miniature of the so-called Georgian Alaverdi Tet- raevangelion, dating from 1054, that depicts the Mandylion against a golden background.60 (Figure 37) According to Wilson, the miniature represents the casket in which the Mandylion was kept in the imperial chapel of Constanti- nople, just as the Georgian King Bagrat IV would have seen it.

59 In R. Giacobbo, I Templari. Dov’è il tesoro? Milan, Mondadori, 2010, p. 116. 60 Tbilisi, National Center of Manuscripts, ms. A484, f. 320v. 154 Chapter 6

Figure 38 Christ Writing Letter. Alaverdi Tetraevangelion, Tbilisi, Georgia, National Centre of Manuscripts, ms. A484, f. 318r (1054 ce). Photo: National Centre of Manuscripts.

What we see is not only a long, flat chest, much like the one in which the Shroud was stored between 1604 and 1998, but on top of it, there rose a rectangular gold-covered panel, much wider than anything which might be expected for a cloth merely featuring the face. Displayed on the panel’s gold cover is what might at first be mistaken for the Image itself, until we notice that the artist has been at pains – by the deliberately uncon- vincing way in which he has depicted the cloth’s fringe – to show that this is merely a token of the true original cloth which we may infer to be hidden behind the gold cover.61

These observations and judgments are entirely subjective: the only thing that can be seen is the usual white Mandylion with fringes and circles, on a golden background embellished with decorations. The author also refers to an article by Irma Karaulashvili, who does not agree with Wilson’s interpretation, which she has called fiction.62 One only needs to scan the richly-illuminated Alaverdi

61 I. Wilson, The Shroud. The 2000-Year-Old Mystery Solved, cit., p. 181. 62 I. Karaulashvili, “The Abgar Legend Illustrated. The Interrelationship of the Narrative Cycles and Iconography in the Byzantine, Georgian, and Latin Traditions,” in C. Houri- hane (ed.), Interactions. Artistic Interchange between the Eastern and Western Worlds in the Medieval Period, Princeton, Department of Art and Archaeology, 2007, pp. 234–235. Judge- ment on the fiction expressed in a private message (5/9/2010), with recommendation to disclose. An Overview Of Iconography 155

Figure 39 Ananias with the Mandylion and Abgar. Menologium of Moscow, Russia, State Historical Museum, cod. Syn. gr. 183 (Vlad. 382), f. 210r (1063 ce). Photo: State Historical Museum. codex to see that there is neither a chest nor a gilded panel. One miniature, for example, shows Abgar with Jesus, who is writing his letter. Gold is used as a standard background, and what Wilson identified as treasure chest is in actual- ity simply a framing device with the same decorations in the corners. (Figure 38) Karaulashvili has studied several representations of the narrative cycle of Abgar, some of which help establish the shape of the Mandylion of Edessa.63 The oldest is the so-called Menologium of Moscow, a manuscript from Mount

63 I. Karaulashvili, “The Abgar Legend Illustrated,” cit., pp. 220–243. Apart from the quoted manuscripts, she examines also the cycles of the so-called Menologium of Paris (Biblio- thèque Nationale, cod. gr. 1528), end of the eleventh-beginnings of the twelfth century, and of the Gelati Tetraevangelion (Tbilisi, National Center of Manuscripts, ms. Q908), twelfth century. 156 Chapter 6

Figure 40 Ananias with the Mandylion. Amulet-roll of New York, U.S.A., Pierpont Morgan Library, cod. M499, section 12 (1374 ce). Photo: Pierpont Morgan Library.

Athos, created in 1063, which contains a sequence of four scenes showing the cycle of Abgar, and the Mandylion can clearly be seen in two of the scenes. In the largest miniature, Ananias shows Abgar, who is recumbent, the small σινδών with colored bands showing only the face of Jesus with a short beard and open eyes.64 (Figure 39) A similar representation is found in the same

64 Moscow, State Historical Museum, cod. Synodalis graecus 183 (olim Vlad 382), f. 210r, described in A. Lidov – A. Zhakarova, “La storia del re Abgar e il Mandylion nelle miniature del Menologio di Mosca del 1063,” in G. Wolf – C. Dufour Bozzo – A.R. Calderoni Masetti (eds.), Mandylion. Intorno al Sacro Volto da Bisanzio a Genova, cit., pp. 72–77. An Overview Of Iconography 157

Figure 41 Triumph of the Mandylion. Lobkov’s Prologue, Moscow, Russia, State Historical Museum, cod. Chludov 187, f. 1 (1282 ce). Photo: State Historical Museum. scene on the amulet-roll, now in New York, dated 1374, where the folds of the towel are represented with greater realism.65 (Figure 40) In Lobkov’s Prologue, painted in Novgorod in 1282, the background is stylized, but the decorations of the cloth show rhombi and crosses; Christ is shown alive gazing at the viewer, and his long hair is parted and in braids.66 (Figure 41) His beard is long and narrow, split in two according to the model of the so-called “Savior with the wet beard”: since the miraculous image of the Mandylion was impressed on a towel when Christ dried his wet face with it, his beard is sometimes represented as damp, firm and pointed.67 A final example of oriental-style miniature is seen in a manuscript of Michael Glycas’ Chronicle, produced in 1289 in Otranto. Again, we see a realistic depiction of the towel with fringes and colored bands knotted at the ends; Jesus’ neck is shown and he sports long, braided hair and a split beard, his eyes are wide open in his rubicund face.68

65 New York, Pierpont Morgan Library, cod. M499, section 12. Described by S. Der Nerses- sian, “La légende d’Abgar d’après un rouleau illustré de la Bibliohèque Pierpont Morgan de New York,” in B.D. Filov (ed.), Actes du IV Congrès international des études byzantines, Sophia, Imprimerie de la cour, 1934, pp. 98–106. Cf. G. Peers, “Magic, the Mandylion and the Letter of Abgar,” in G. Wolf – C. Dufour Bozzo – A.R. Calderoni Masetti (eds.), Man- dylion. Intorno al Sacro Volto da Bisanzio a Genova, cit., pp. 215–226. 66 Moscow, State Historical Museum, cod. Chludov 187, f. 1. Cf. A. Lidov, “La venerazione del Mandylion nel prologo Lobkov,” in G. Wolf – C. Dufour Bozzo – A.R. Calderoni Masetti (eds.), Mandylion. Intorno al Sacro Volto da Bisanzio a Genova, cit., pp. 92–95. 67 Cf. S. Gukova, Icone. Mistero del Volto di Cristo, Marcon, Biblos, 2007, pp. 61–65. 68 Venice, Biblioteca Nazionale Marciana, cod. Marcianus graecus Z402; cf. H.L. Kessler, “La Cronaca di Michele Glykas,” in G. Wolf – C. Dufour Bozzo – A.R. Calderoni Masetti (eds.), Mandylion. Intorno al Sacro Volto da Bisanzio a Genova, cit., pp. 96–97. 158 Chapter 6

Figure 42 Mandylion. Manuscript of Michael Glycas’ Chronicle, Venice, Italy, Biblioteca Nazionale Marciana, cod. Marc. gr. Z402, f. 208r (1289 ce). Photo: Biblioteca Nazionale Marciana.

(Figure 42) A codex probably made in Rome around 1270 is the only example of a Western miniature cycle of Edessa with a Latin version of the legend of Ab- gar. This version entirely ignores the translation of the relic to Constantinople and locates it directly in Rome.69 Here, the Mandylion is a small cloth showing only the face of the living Christ.70 (Figure 43) A similar image is found in a miniature in a Parisian codex illuminated between 1410 and 1412, here the cloth shows only Christ’s face on a blue background.71 (Figure 44) Among many other images, one particularly beautiful example is found in a masterpiece of Cat- alan Gothic painting by Lluís Borrassà dated between 1414 and 1415: a detail from the altarpiece depicts King Abgar receiving at the same time Jesus’ letter

69 I. Ragusa, “Mandylion-Sudarium: the “Translation” of a Byzantine Relic to Rome,” Arte Medievale 5/2 (1991), pp. 97–106. Latin text in E. von Dobschütz, Christusbilder, cit., pp. 141**-156**. An Armenian document that dates back to the aftermath of the looting of Constantinople locates the Mandylion of Edessa in Rome, making a distinction between the Mandylion and the Shroud, stating that the latter was kept in Azerbaijan (Paris, Bib- liothèque Nationale de France, arménien n° 147 [ancien fonds arménien 74], ff. 145v-147); translation in F. de Mély, Exuviae sacrae constantinopolitanae, Paris, Leroux, 1904, pp. 53–57, and in A. Lombatti, “L’immagine di Edessa e la Sindone in un manoscritto armeno del XIII secolo,” Approfondimento Sindone 5/1 (2001), pp. 41–46 (but in reality the manuscript dates back to the seventeenth century). 70 Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale de France, cod. Parisinus latinus 2688, f. 82r. Described and illustrated in I. Ragusa, “The Iconography of the Abgar Cycle in Paris, Ms. lat. 2688 and Its Relationship to Byzantine Cycles,” Miniatura 2 (1989), pp. 35–51. Cf. G. Morello – G. Wolf (eds.), Il volto di Cristo, cit., pp. 173–174. 71 Hayton of Corycus, Fleur des estoires de la terre d’Orient: Bibliothèque Nationale de France, cod. Par. fr. 2810, fol. 230r. An Overview Of Iconography 159

Figure 43 Miniature featuring the Mandylion being retrieved from a well. Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale de France, cod. Par. Lat. 2688, f. 82r (c. 1270 ce). Photo: Bibliothèque Nationale de France.

Figure 44 Miniature featuring Abgar receiving the Mandylion. Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale de France, cod. Par. fr. 2810, fol. 230r (1410–1412 ce). Photo: Bibliothèque Natio- nale de France. 160 Chapter 6

Figure 45 Painting by Lluís Borrassà, Abgar receives the Mandylion and the letter from Jesus. Retaule d’advocació franciscana, Museu Episcopal de Vic, Spain (1414–1415 ce). Photo: Josep Giribet. and the Mandylion, the latter is represented in the usual small form.72 (Figure 45)

The Georgian Icon of Ancha

In his most recent book, Ian Wilson, who has begun to pursue a Caucasian track in his quest to discover the history of the Shroud, mentions a Georgian tradition in which, around 530, a group of twelve monks moved from Syria to Georgia. He attributes to these monks the origin of a sixth or seventh century image known as Anchiskhati (ანჩისხატი, “icon of Ancha”), preserved in Tbilisi. The original encaustic painting representing a bust of Christ was modified and partially covered with metal foil (as was also the case with the acheiropoieton of the Lateran in Rome), only the face is now visible. (Figure 46) Since the thirteenth century, the icon of Ancha has been considered a

72 Vic (Barcelona), Museu Episcopal, Retaule d’advocació franciscana. An Overview Of Iconography 161

Figure 46 Anchiskhati, detail. Tbilisi, Georgia, Shalva Amiranashvili Museum of Fine Arts, inv. Tb331 (sixth-seventh century ce). Photo: Kunsthistorisches Institut in Florenz – Max-Planck- Institut. representation of the Keramion, suggesting that it supplies evidence for the original appearance of the Mandylion. When arguing that the image of Edessa included an imprint of Jesus’ entire body, Wilson considers this Georgian image as one of its copies.73 However, it is not clear how succesfully a bust-length icon can be compared with an imprint of the man of the Shroud. Moreover, the icon of Ancha has nothing to do with twelve Syrian monks, and Karaulashvili, who Wilson cites, never claimed the icon was moved to Georgia at that time. Instead, she believes that “the entire argument brought up by Wilson is a product of his own fantasy.”74 The

73 I. Wilson, The Shroud. The 2000-Year-Old Mystery Solved, cit., pp. 135–137. 74 I. Karaulashvili, “The Abgar Legend Illustrated,” cit., p. 224. The judgment on Wilson was expressed in a private message (5/9/2010), with recommendation to disclose. The icon of Ancha is nowadays kept in the Art Museum of Georgia, Tbilisi. 162 Chapter 6 legend about the origins of the image of Ancha, is quite different: dating to the twelfth century, the story claims that the apostle Andrew carried the icon from Hierapolis to Georgia, not Byzantine monks. A story of Syrian monks arriving in Georgia, however, is related in the tenth- century Lives of the Holy Syrian Fathers, one of them was the servant-monk of the Mandylion of Edessa, Theodosios of Urhai, and another was the thurifer of the Keramion of Hierapolis, Ezderios of Nabuk. After building the Georgian churches of Rekha and Samthavisi, they wished to decorate them with repro ductions of the acheiropoieta images they knew so well. An angel miraculously produced the copies (none of which have anything to do with the Anchis khati). This Georgian legend shows that its author knew the acheiropoieton of Edessa neither directly, nor indirectly, but only through generic and imprecise references. At the time it was written, the relevant Byzantine texts about the Mandylion had not yet been translated into Georgian.75 Therefore, there is nothing in the image of Ancha or in the story of the Georgian monks that provides any evidence for the tradition of the Mandylion of Edessa, let alone any references to the Shroud of Turin.

The Madrid’s Skylitzes

The miniature of an illustrated codex now kept in Madrid,76 containing the Synopsis of Histories of John Skylitzes (late eleventh century) is often cited to support pro-Sindonic theories. (Figure 47) The miniature bears the inscription, “The Holy Mandylion,”77 and shows the reception of the Mandylion in Constantinople on August 15, 944. Barbara Frale describes it as:

A magnificent Byzantine miniature from the fourteenth century represents the arrival of the Mandylion in Constantinople. In it, emperor Con-

75 These Lives of Holy Syrian Fathers, among which stands out that of Ioane Zedazneli, have been found in a codex of Mount Sinai (n/Sin-50). About the most ancient Georgian legends, Z. Aleksidze, “The Mandylion and the Keramion in the Ancient Literature of Geor- gia,” Academia. The Journal of Human Sciences 1 (2001), pp. 9–15; cf. also I. Karaulashvili, “The Abgar Legend,” cit., pp. 224–226. 76 Madrid, Biblioteca Nacional, Vitr/26/2 (gr. 347, olim N-2), f. 131r. Facsimile of the manuscript: Ioannes Scylitza, Synopsis historiarum (Σύνοψις ιστοριών), Athens, Miletos, 2000. 77 It can be easily read, and it certainly does not say “to ahiou manduliou,” as in Maria Grazia Siliato’s transliteration, which is grammatical nonsense in the Greek language (Sindone: mistero dell’impronta di duemila anni fa, cit., p. 192). An Overview Of Iconography 163

Figure 47 Madrid Skylitzes, reception of the Mandylion. Madrid, Spain, Biblioteca Nacional, cod. Vitr/26/2, f. 131r (late eleventh century ce). Photo: Biblioteca Nacional.

stantine VII receives from Gregory Referendarius, not a simple towel, but a very long cloth where the image of the Holy Face can be seen.78

However, her identification of the figures shown in the miniature are incorrect, the emperor receiving the relic is not Constantine VII, but Romanos I Lekape- nos. And it is not Gregory Referendarius who delivers it, but the cubicularius Theophanes, who was sent by Romanos to fetch it by the Sangarius River.79 All this is easily verified since the miniature is located in the section of the manuscript that describes events that occurred during the reign of Romanos I (folios 127–131); moreover, Romanos’ three sons are depicted standing behind him; these are the Patriarch Theophylact, Stephen, and Constantine. The Greek text accompanying the miniature states:

78 B. Frale, The Templars and the Shroud of Christ, cit., p. 134. 79 The story can be found also in Theophanes Continuatus, Chronographia (ed. I. Bekker, Theophanes Continuatus, Ioannes Cameniata, Symeon Magister, Georgius Monachus, Bonn, Weber, 1838, p. 432, 4–24) and in Leo Grammaticus (ed. I. Bekker, Leonis Gram- matici Chronographia, Bonn, Weber, 1842, p. 325,22–326,12). Here it is also said that the Mandylion was received and temporarily kept in the palace of Blachernae (it was August 15, 944). About Theophanes, E. von Dobschütz, “Der Kammerherr Theophanes,” Byzan- tinische Zeitschrift 10 (1901), pp. 166–181. 164 Chapter 6

While the city of Edessa was besieged by Roman troops, the Edesseans, distressed by the evils of the siege, sent ambassadors to the sovereign, asking for the soldiers to be taken away from the siege; they promised him to hand in, as ransom, the holy imprint of Christ. Once the siege was lifted, the divine figure was surrendered and brought to the imperial city; it was received by the sovereign with a splendid and proper entourage, from the hands of the cubicularius Theophanes.80

Additionally, the image does not show “very long cloth where the image of the Holy Face can be seen.” Vasiliki Tsamakda describes it as:

The miniature […] illustrates the arrival and veneration of the Holy Man- dylion. A bearded man without imperial insignia, identified as Romanos I, is depicted inside a vaulted building. He brings the Mandylion close to his face and worships it. It is offered to him by Theophanes, whose hands are covered with a long cloth hanging from his shoulders. The Mandylion has the form of a rectangular, white cloth with fringes, on which the head of Christ is painted as plastically as the other figures.81

Two different objects are thus represented in the illumination: a long, colorful fabric that covers the hands of Theophanes and the emperor on which the white Mandylion rests, and the icon which is shown as a rectangle of cloth on which the rubicund face of the living Christ is depicted with the usual reddish fringes that almost touch Theophanes’ beard. The long cloth on which the Mandylion is laid is clearly a different color and it matches the color of the cloak worn by the emperor. Theophanes would not have touched the relic with his hands so the long purple cloth was used to prevent unclean hands from direct contact with the sacred object. An equally interesting episode is narrated and represented in the same manuscript: Michael the Paphlagonian ascended the throne of the Byzantine Empire (1034–1042) after the murder of the emperor Romanos III. This act

80 Ioannes Scilitzes, Synopsis historiarum, Life of Romanos I, §37 (pp. 231–232): τῆς πόλεως δὲ Ἐδέσσης πολιορκουμένης παρὰ τῶν Ῥωμαϊκῶν δυνάμεων, στενοχωρηθέντες οἱ Ἐδεσσηνοὶ τοῖς ἐκ τῆς πολιορκίας δεινοῖς διεπρεσβεύσαντο πρὸς βασιλέα, αἰτούμενοι ἀπαναστῆναι τῆς προσεδρείας τὸν λαόν, καὶ ὑπισχνοῦντο ἀντίλυτρον δοῦναι τὸ τοῦ Χριστοῦ ἅγιον ἐκμαγεῖον. Λυθείσης οὖν τῆς πολιορκίας ἐδόθη τὸ θεῖον ἐκτύπωμα καὶ εἰς τὴν βασιλίδα ἤχθη, ὑποδεξαμένου τοῦτο τοῦ βασιλέως μετὰ λαμπρᾶς καὶ πρεπούσης δορυφορίας διὰ τοῦ παρακοιμωμένου Θεοφάνους (ed H. Thurn, Ioannis Scylitzae synopsis historiarum, Berlin, De Gruyter, 1973). 81 V. Tsamakda, The Illustrated Chronicle of Ioannes Skylitzes in Madrid, Leiden, Alexandros Press, 2002, p. 168. An Overview Of Iconography 165

Figure 48 Madrid Skylitzes, Constantine Phagitzes receives and delivers the relics. Madrid, Spain, Biblioteca Nacional, cod. Vitr/26/2, f. 207v (late eleventh century ce). Photo: Biblioteca Nacional. aroused protests by the patrician Constantine Dalassenos. The King’s brother, the eunuch John the Orphanotrophos, sent a delegation led by the eunuch Er- godotes to convince Constantine to accompany him to the imperial palace. Constantine agreed to go but demanded that the delegates take oaths to guar- antee his impunity. The historian John Skylitzes writes:

Then the eunuch Constantine Phagitzes, a Paphlagonian man and closely associated with the emperor, is sent bearing the precious wood [of the cross], the holy imprint, the autograph letter of our Lord and savior Jesus Christ to Abgar and an icon of the holy Mother of God. Having left and exchanged oaths with Constantine, he goes with him to Byzantium.82

The miniature illustrating the story (folio 207 verso, Figure 48) shows John the Orphanotrophos giving Constantine Phagitzes a case containing the sacred objects (τὰ ἅγια). Constantine receives it with his hands veiled in fabric the same color as that covering the hands of the cubicularius Theophanes in the illumination discussed above. Another miniature (205 recto, Figure 49), depicts, on one side, George Maniakes in the act of delivering Christ’s letter to

82 Ioannes Scilitzes, Synopsis historiarum, Life of Michael IV, §3 (pp. 393–394): πέμπεται τοίνυν Κωνσταντῖνος ὁ Φαγίτζης εὐνοῦχος, ἄνθρωπος Παφλαγὼν καὶ συνήθης τῷ βασιλεῖ, τά τε τίμια ἐπαγόμενος ξύλα καὶ τὸ ἅγιον ἐκμαγεῖον καὶ τὴν πρὸς Αὔγαρον ἰδιόγραφον ἐπιστολὴν τοῦ κυρίου καὶ σωτῆρος ἡμῶν Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ καὶ εἰκόνα τῆς ὑπεραγίας θεοτόκου. Ὃς ἀπελθὼν καὶ ὅρκους τῷ Κωνσταντίνῳ δοὺς καὶ λαβών, ἔρχεται μετ’ αὐτοῦ εἰς τὸ Βυζάντιον. 166 Chapter 6

Figure 49 Madrid Skylitzes, translation of Jesus’ epistle. Madrid, Spain, Biblioteca Nacional, cod. Vitr/26/2, f. 205r (late eleventh century ce). Photo: Biblioteca Nacional.

Abgar to a messenger and on the other side, the same messenger puts the letter in the hands of emperor Romanos III Argyros. In both illustrations the messenger’s hands are covered with a long sheet just as is found in other presentation scene miniatures. Frale’s misinterpretation, which fails to distinguish the Mandylion from the rich fabric on which it is displayed, is not new. Rather, it has been popular for some time among sindonologists. They believed that the miniature depicts the Shroud, but they do not explain why it should be colored red!83 Perhaps this misinterpretation began with a misunderstanding of blurry black and white photographs of the miniature. In poor-quality reproductions, the white Man- dylion may blend into the background, and thus be difficult to distinguish. However, decent reproductions of the entire manuscript have been available since 1965, and good quality repoductions of the miniature appeared several decades before then.84 During the Fifth National Congress of Sindonology, in Cagliari, April 1990, Bruno Bonnet-Eymard gave a paper during which he included a good quality image of the illumination in full color. Bonnet-Eymard’s explanation, printed on the back of the photocopy doesn’t correspond to the miniature, but the availability of color photographs has helped clarify what it

83 For example W.K. Müller, Festliche Begegnungen: die Freunde des Turiner Grabtuches in zwei Jahrtausenden, Frankfurt am Main, Lang, 1989, pp. 281 and 732. 84 In A. Grabar, La Sainte Face de Laon, cit., plate VI,5, the fringes of the Mandylion can be perfectly told from the underlying fabric. An Overview Of Iconography 167 actually represents. As soon as this misreading was recognized,85 many sindonologists abandoned the argument,86 but not all of them. In addition to Bar- bara Frale, Ilaria Ramelli, Alessandro Piana, and Marco Tosatti still support this misreading.87 Mark Guscin questions the nature of the underlying veil,88 but Massimo Centini, André-Marie Dubarle, Maria Grazia Siliato, Pierluigi Baima Bollone, and Remi Van Haelst have gone to great lengths in their efforts to argue that the Shroud is represented here in some form or other.89

85 Immediately pointed out by P.A. Gramaglia, “Ancora la Sindone di Torino,” cit., pp. 99–101. 86 For example, G. Zaninotto, “Il presunto mandylion nel codice Skylitzès di Madrid,” Colle- gamento pro Sindone March-April 1994, pp. 22–38; P. de Riedmatten, “Parcours personnel dans le manuscrit de Skylitzès,” Montre-nous ton visage 30 (2004), pp. 14–23. See also P. Giardelli, Mandylion. L’enigma della Sindone, il volto della Veronica, i riti segreti dei Tem- plari, Genoa, LOG, 2002, p. 90: “The face of Christ stands out as a ‘severed head’ embossed on a white towel with fringes, laid on a long pink cloth that the emperor raises and is preparing to embrace. The long cloth on which sits the image of the head is a precious cloth with which, in the Byzantine tradition, hands and arms were covered as a sign of respect, to avoid touching the relic directly.” 87 I. Ramelli, “Dal Mandilion di Edessa alla Sindone,” cit., p. 181: “The miniature […] presents the Mandilion as a long cloth”; A. Piana, Sindone. Gli anni perduti, Milan, Sugarco, 2007, p. 39: “In it is represented Romanos I Lekapenos, intent on observing closely, or perhaps kissing, a bearded face emerging from a sheet”; almost in the same words, M. Tosatti, Inchiesta sulla Sindone, Casale Monferrato, Piemme, 2009, p. 54: “In it we see the emperor who observes closely, or perhaps kisses, the face of a bearded man depicted on a sheet.” When Anna Benvenuti says that Wilson has tracked down “in a miniature of the thirteenth century, the exhibition of the deployed relic depicted in a manner that is actually quite similar to that of the Turinese sheet,” she is probably referring to this one (Il mistero della Sindone, Florence, Giunti, 1998, p. 45) 88 M. Guscin, The Image of Edessa, cit., p. 194: “It is not clear if this larger cloth is meant to be part of the smaller one, if it was used as a kind of protective outer cloth for it, or if it has nothing at all to do with it.” In reality, the image is exceedingly clear, as clear as all the other representations of similar fabrics depicted in other miniatures. In 2000 Guscin wrote: «It is true that only a face is represented on the cloth, not the whole body, but nevertheless the cloth is depicted as much larger than necessary if only the face were there. When this miniature was drawn, it was known that the Mandylion was a cloth long enough to cover a human body» (The Burial Cloths of Christ, London, Catholic Truth Soci- ety, 2000, p. 24). 89 M. Centini, I volti di Cristo, cit., pp. 59 and 68: “In reality, two cloths can be spotted: the Mandylion above, and below, a longer herringboned one [in Italian it is written ‘spigato,’ that is, ‘herringboned,’ but it could be a mispelling of ‘spiegato,’ that means ‘unfolded’]; or maybe just one cloth (the Shroud?) of which only the top is seen […]. The Mandylion (to hagian [sic!] mandylion) donated to John [sic!] Lekapenos is of such dimensions as those of a burial cloth rather than those of a handkerchief”; A.M. Dubarle, “Novità nella storia antica della Sindone di Torino,” Sindon 2 (1990), pp. 47–48, after having declared that 168 Chapter 6

regarding this issue he had been, in the past, a “victim” of “wrong or incomplete interpretations,” now admits that the miniature depicts two different objects, that is, the Man- dylion and the underlying fabric. He does not refrain, though, from making up yet another convoluted explanation that, against the evidence of the facts, goes back to the same error: “Why, in the miniature of Skylitzes, this strange unfolding of such a bulky fabric? Is this perhaps a hint to some forgotten or misunderstood tradition that linked the image taken to Edessa in 944 to a large cloth?” Obviously, Dubarle does not wonder why in other pictures there is a drawing of an equally long cloth in the hands of a man that holds a relic that is not the Mandylion. Not much can be gathered from P. Baima Bollone’s description, Sindone o no, Turin, SEI, 1990, p. 104: “Below the sheet there is a rigid object with fringe. It is the container of the sheet folded in eight (that is to say, the Mandylion) that we know that possesses this characteristic.” Below? At best, above! Baima Bollone seems to be suggesting that the white object with fringes was the container (the chest) of the folded Shroud. Why, then, would the face be on the container? And what is the point of the long cloth on the shoulders? Which one would be the Shroud, considering that the head emerges from the ‘container’ rather than from the fabric? This is followed by an unbeliev- able attempt to calculate the length of the cloth that sits on the shoulders of both characters, based on the proportional relationship with their limbs. Needless to say, the result matches the length of the Shroud. The description is clearer in another book: P. Baima Bollone, Sindone. La prova, Milan, Mondadori, 1998, p. 208, where it is said, though, that the miniature dates back to the eighth century and the location of the container is better explained: “Romanos I Lekapenos takes from the hands of an Edessean cleric a rectangular container that has a hole through which the face of the Lord is seen. The sheet came out of the container.” A hole? The sheet “came out” of where? Also M.G. Siliato, Sindone: mistero dell’impronta di duemila anni fa, cit., pp. 192–193, tries to stick to her guns. In this confusing book Siliato makes so many mistakes that doubts are raised about her qualifica- tions as an “historian-archaeologist.” R. Van Haelst, “Un’altra occhiata al codice Skylitzes,” Collegamento pro Sindone September-October 1995, pp. 38–39, sees the Mandylion and the Shroud simultaneously, one on top of the other, spicing up his fantasies with the addition of alleged confirmations gathered from visions of nineteenth century mystic Anna Katharina Emmerick (1774–1824). Such visions are, by the way, totally irreconcilable with the Turinese Shroud, as they refer to a sheet laid on the burial bandages that evidently did not ever make direct contact with Jesus’ body. Moreover, according to the mystic, the front part of the body was covered in a manner completely different than the one attested by the Shroud: “Then they laid the Lord’s body on the large sheet, six cubits long, that Joseph of Arimathea had bought, and wrapped him in it. He was lying upon it diagonally; one corner was drawn up from the feet to the breast, the other one [was drawn] down over the head and shoulders, and the sides were wrapped round the body.” A brown-reddish miraculous image appeared on this sheet: “The side of the sheet upon which the body laid, contained the image of the whole back of the Lord; the side that covered it, [contained] the front likeness. This, howewer, had to be put together, because here the sheet had been folded over him with several corners. It was not an impression of bleeding wounds, because the whole body had been tightly wrapped in spices with numerous An Overview Of Iconography 169

Figure 50 Madrid Skylitzes, procession to the Blachernae carrying the relics. Madrid, Spain, Biblioteca Nacional, cod. Vitr/26/2, f. 210v (late eleventh century ce). Photo: Biblioteca Nacional.

All supporters of the folded Mandylion theory have dwelled on this image, but they have failed to take into account the other illuminations, including the one that accompanies this story by John Skylitzes (210 verso): (Figure 50)

Because there was a drought and for six whole months no rain had fallen, the emperor’s brothers held a procession, John carrying the holy Man- dylion, the Great Domestic the letter of Christ to Abgar, the protovestiarios George the holy swaddling bands. They traveled on foot from the Great Palace to the church of the exceedingly holy Mother of God at Blachernae. The patriarch and the clergy made another procession, and not only did it not rain, but a massive hail storm was unleashed which broke down trees and shattered the roof tiles of the city.90

bandages.” From this at least one thing can be deduced: Emmerick’s vision is false, the Turin Shroud is false, or both of them are false (A.K. Emmerick, Das bittere Leiden unsers Herrn Jesu Christi, Sulzbach, Seidel, 1833, p. 281: “Hierauf legten sie den Leib des Herrn auf das große sechs Ellen lange Tuch, das Joseph von Arimathia gekauft hatte, und schlugen ihn darin ein. Er lag quer darauf, eine Ecke ward von den Füßen zur Brust herauf, die andre über den Kopf und die Schultern niedergeschlagen und die Seiten wurden um den Leib herumgewickelt. […] Die Seite des Tuches, worauf der Leib lag, enthielt das Abbild des ganzen Rückens des Herrn, die Seite, die ihn bedeckte, seine vordere Gestalt, diese aber mußte zusammengelegt werden, weil das Tuch hier mit verschiedenen Ecken über ihn zusammengeschlagen war. Es war dieses kein Abdruck von etwa blutenden Wunden, denn der ganze Körper war in Spezereien mit vielen Binden dicht eingewickelt”). 90 Ioannes Scilitzes, Synopsis historiarum, Life of Michael IV, §10 (p. 400): αὐχμοῦ δὲ γενομένου, ὡς ἐπὶ μῆνας ὅλους ἕξ μὴ κατααγῆναι ὑετόν, λιτανείαν ἐποιήσαντο οἱ τοῦ βασιλέως 170 Chapter 6

The miniature depicts the moment when the procession arrives at the Blach- ernae. The three men, their hands veiled with a mantle as seen in the other image, hold three reliquaries. The Mandylion reliquary (held by the third man, followed by two bishops) is about the same in size as the other two, and does not resemble the shape of a large, flat box with an opening at the center, about which so much has been written. The codex, completed in the twelfth century, is probably a product of the scriptorium of the monastery of San Salvatore in Messina, or the work of a Sicil- ian copyist. Vasiliki Tsamakda has convincingly shown that the miniatures of the codex are not an original creation by the seven artists who worked on the codex, but a copy of illustrated chronicles already in existence.91 The extent to which the miniaturists conveyed something of which they had direct knowledge, or whether they limited themselves to furnishing the stylized representations that suited the idea that they could have of these objects, remains an open question.

A Russian Icon

A similar sort of iconographic misreading or manipulation has occurred in the case of a Russian icon that Barbara Frale describes in these terms:

The religious tradition that determined the making of some icons of the Mandylion, associates this image to Christ dead in the sepulchre, as shown, for instance, by a superb item found in the Russian State Museum of St. Petersburg, painted by Prokop Tehirin in the early 1600s: the dead body of Jesus, with his hands joined over the pubis as in the Shroud, arises from the sepulchre, while two angels above him display the Man- dylion, which is not a towel, but a fairly long sheet.92

ἀδελφοί, ὁ μὲν Ἰωάννης βαστάζων τὸ ἅγιον μανδύλιον, ὁ μέγας δομέστικος τὴν πρὸς Αὔγαρον ἐπιστολὴν τοῦ Χριστοῦ καὶ ὁ πρωτοβεστιάριος Γεώργιος τὰ ἅγια σπάργανα. Καὶ πεζῇ ὁδεύσαντες ἀπὸ τοῦ μεγάλου παλατίου ἀφίκοντο ἄχρι τοῦ ναοῦ τῆς ὑπεραγίας θεοτόκου τῶν Βλαχερνῶν. Ἐποίησε δὲ καὶ ἑτέραν λιτὴν ὁ πατριάρχης σὺν τῷ κλήρῳ. Οὐ μόνον δὲ οὐκ ἔβρεξεν, ἀλλὰ καὶ χάλαζα παμμεγέθης κατααγεῖσα συνέτριψε τὰ δένδρα καὶ τὰς κεράμους τῆς πόλεως. Transla- tion by John Wortley. 91 Cf. V. Tsamakda’s conclusions, The Illustrated Chronicle, cit., pp. 394–397. See also B.L. Fon- kic, “Sull’origine del manoscritto dello Scilitze di Madrid,” Erytheia: Revista de estudios bizantinos y neogriegos 28 (2007), pp. 67–89. 92 B. Frale, The Templars and the Shroud of Christ, cit., p. 140, obviously based on the caption An Overview Of Iconography 171

Figure 51 Stefan Arefʾev, Savior acheiropoieton and “Weep not for me, oh mother”. Saint Petersburg, Russia, State Russian Museum, ДРЖ 1016 (1600–1615 ce). Author’s photo archive. Frale does not reproduce an image of the icon, which does not match her description, which in incorrect on several fronts. (Figure 51) First, the painting is not by Prokop Tehirin – or correctly Prokopij Chirin (1593–1627) – but by Stefan Arefʾev. Secondly, the icon is based upon a well-known model that juxtaposes two iconographic typologies: the first, the upper one, is called “The Savior acheiropoieton” (Спас нерукотворный) or more eloquently: “Savior on the napkin” (Спас на убрусе). The Mandylion follows the usual iconography and depicts only the face of Jesus, with his eyes open and a halo, without any elements that resemble the burial cloth of the Shroud. Two angels hold up the sides of the cloth, in accordance with a Western tradition that was not established before the fifteenth century. The representation of the face belongs to the afor-mentioned typology, the “Savior with the wet beard.” That the Man- dylion is large is a result of the author’s choice to reproduce it on a different scale so that dominates the scene and expresses Christ’s importance in contrast to the other figures. Nothing suggests the representation of a full-length body on a long sheet laid horizontally, even if the reader of Frale’s book, which doesn’t furnish an illustration, is led to conclude otherwise.

of an older article from an encyclopedia: E. Zocca, “Icone,” Enciclopedia Cattolica 6 (1951), coll. 1539–1540. 172 Chapter 6

Figure 52 Moscow School, Savior acheiropoieton and “Weep not for me, oh mother”. Moscow, Russia, Kolomenskoye Museum Reserve, inv. ж 717 (c. 1570 ce). Author’s photo archive.

The second representational typology in Stefan Arefʾev’s icon is below the representation of the Mandylion, and called “Weep not for me, oh mother” (Не рыдай мене мати): it is the visual representation of the words with which Christ addresses Mary, according to the Canon of the Great Holy Saturday of the Byzantine liturgy.93 Christ has “his hands joined over the pubis” (but more than “joined” I would say “crossed”) this does not automatically make the figure depicted resemble the man on the Shroud, since it was not unusual to depict corpses with their arms in that position. Close examination of the icon reveals that the arms are not crossed over the pubis, as they are in the Shroud, but over the abdomen. In many similar icons the position of the arms is vari- able, without any fixed pattern, for example, the famous icon of the Moscow

93 Ninth Ode by monk Cosmàs: “Weep not for me, o mother, beholding in the sepulcher the son whom you have conceived without seed in your womb.” Greek text in Ἡ ἁγία καὶ μεγάλη ἑβδομάς, Athens, Apostolikē Diakonia tēs Ellados, 1990, p. 292. An Overview Of Iconography 173

School dated c. 1570 and preserved at the Kolomenskoye Museum Reserve (inv. ж 717) shows Christ with his arms folded over his abdomen. (Figure 52) Unlike the Shroud, in these icons the head of Christ is shown reclining,94 the man has a short beard and does not bear the signs of the Passion. It is clear that the suffering Christ of the scene below has nothing to do with either the Shroud or the triumphant face with open eyes of the Mandylion above. Among Russian iconographic models of this kind, there are several examples of similar representations of the Mandylion, and many include pictorial scenes of the cycle of Abgar arranged around the central image. All these scenes depict the Mandylion as a small towel showing the face of Christ only. (Figure 53) It is clear that the iconographer never intended for the viewer to interpret the cloth as if it represented a large sheet. But above all else, and most importantly, a Russian icon from the beginning of the seventeenth century cannot be used as reliable evidence for the form and appearance of a Shroud/Mandylion that, according to Barbara Frale and other sindonologists, vanished from Constantinople in 1204 and arrived in France, in secret, before the end of the thirteenth century.

Byzantine Coins

Attempts to demonstrate that sacred Byzantine iconography is derived from the Shroud have been numerous and there is no need to take all of them into consideration. Indeed, all that they have in common is the credulity with which sindonologists embrace the resemblance that the man on the Shroud

94 Also in this case an explanation has been made up to justify the evident discrepancy between the Shroud, where the man’s head is depicted absolutely upright, and the icons, where Christ has his head tilted: “If the two folds present in the Shroud by the neck are joined together, the result is an inclination of the head precisely on that spot” (E. Mari- nelli, La Sindone. Testimone di una presenza, cit., p. 52, commenting on the same icon). The explanation is extravagant, and the result is not that. Moreover, in the icon, Christ not only has his head tilted to the right on a horizontal planes, but his sight is directed elsewhere, and the other two figures around him have their heads inclined, showing their sadness. Heinrich Pfeiffer has stated similar things, adding further complications: “I have tried to bend a photograph of the Shroud along the lines that can be seen to take shape under his beard and below the neck, and the result is very similar to the icon. Only one detail is different: the head of the Shroud’s image leans to the left, not to the right. This latter fact could be explained by the negative character, stamp-like, of the Shroud’s image, which, for this reason, shows all the details in reverse” (“Le piaghe di Cristo nell’arte e la Sindone,” in L. Coppini – F. Cavazzuti [eds.], Le icone di Cristo e la Sindone, cit., p. 92). 174 Chapter 6

Figure 53 Popov Petr Ivanov Kostromitin, Icon of the Savior acheiropoieton with scenes of the cycle of Abgar. Yaroslavl, Russia, State Historical and Architectural Museum-Preserve, inv. ЯМЗ 40899, ИК 95 (firs half of the seventeenth century ce). Author’s photo archive. may or may not share with any portrait of Christ that depicts him with long hair and beard. They rely primarily on a series of points of contact between the different representations which they detect through superpositioning of images, some with the help of computers. These are generally sloppy operations that succeed in finding analogs between the face on the Shroud and just about any portrait of a vaguely similar bearded man. When two faces are even a little alike, they argue that the identity is proven, when the images are too different, An Overview Of Iconography 175 they supply excuses such as reminding readers that Byzantine art is “notori- ously non-naturalistic” and is more interested in the “spirit behind the image” than in fidelity of representation.95 In all cases they argue whatever buttresses their suppositions most conveniently. I will limit this to only one example, the alleged numismatic demonstration that the emperors of Constantinople, as early as the seventh century, would have known the the Shroud.96 One of the first emperors to mint coins that included the face of Christ was Justinian II, who ruled for the first time from 685 to 695, before being deposed.97 Starting in 692, he minted a series of gold and silver coins (solidus, semissis, tremissis, hexagram) bearing the image of a bless- ing Christ shown from the chest up, covered with the colobium (tunic) and the pallium (mantle), holding in his left hand the book of the Gospels with a cross behind his head.98 (Figure 54) A regal and triumphant image, this is supported

95 I. Wilson, “The Shroud and the Mandylion,” in W. Meacham (ed.), Turin Shroud – Image of Christ? Proceedings of a Symposium Held in Hong Kong, Hong Kong, Cosmos Printing, 1987, p. 24. 96 An excellent recognition of the typologies of Byzantine numismatic depictions of the figure of Christ in P. Grierson, Catalogue of the Byzantine Coins in the Dumbarton Oaks Collection and in the Whittemore Collection, vol. 3, part 1, Washington, Dumbarton Oaks, 1993, pp. 146–169. 97 Generally said to have been the first, but there is at least a previous example: the solidus of Marcian (450–457) and Pulcheria’s wedding (cf. G. MacDonald, Coin Types: their Origin and Development, Glasgow, James Maclehose and Sons, 1905, p. 233). The only existing coin, kept at the Hunterian Museum (Glasgow), features the standing bride and groom holding hands, with the figure of Christ in the background, laying his hand on both spouses’ shoulders. Christ is depicted without beard. The image and the description, with further bibliography, can be seen on the museum’s website (www.huntsearch.gla.ac.uk) under codex 32543 of the coins catalog. Giulio Fanti and Pierandrea Malfi believe to have found an older coin featuring the same iconography of Christ, minted on the occasion of the wedding between Valentinian III and Licinia Eudoxia; but in reality, this coin does not bear the image of Christ, but that of Emperor Theodosius II, who happened to be the bride’s father (Sindone, primo secolo dopo Cristo!, Tavagnacco, Segno, 2013, p. 135). Cf. H. Dressel, “Fortsetzung des Erwerbungsberichts des König. Münzkabinetts Berlin in den Jahren 1890–1897,” Zeitschrift für Numismatik 21 (1898), pp. 247–249; R.A.G. Carson, Princi- pal Coins of the Romans, vol. 3, London, British Museum, 1981, §1603; P. Grierson – M. Mays, Catalogue of Late Roman Coins in the Dumbarton Oaks Collection and in the Whittemore Collection, Washington, Dumbarton Oaks, 1992, p. 145; C. Morisson, “Rares solidi byzantins des Ve-VIe siècles,” Bulletin de la Société française de numismatique 57 (2002), pp. 179–180. 98 Cf. D.R. Sear, Byzantine Coins and their Values, London, Seaby, 1987, nn. 1248, 1249, 1252, 1256, 1259; A.L. Friedberg – I.S. Friedberg, Gold Coins of the World. From Ancient Times to the Present, Clifton, Coin & Currency Institute, 2009, p. 65. In an earlier work of mine, when referring to these same coins, I have dubbed them “Roman.” Two sindonologists 176 Chapter 6

Figure 54 Solidus of Justinian II ( first reign), Constantinople (692–695 ce). Photo: www.coinarchives.com. also by the inscription around Christ on the coin: “Jesus Christ, king of kings.” This image is found on subsequent coins, such as those of Michael III. Above all, the portrait on the coin recalls the iconography of the Pantokrator, of which the oldest example (sixth century) is the famous encaustic painting of the Monastery of Saint Catherine in Sinai. (Figure 55) According to sindonologists, the face on the coin and that of the Shroud are identical, and both are identical to other iconographic representations of the Pantokrator. Mario Moroni believes that Justinian was inspired by the Shroud because it was in Constantinople where it had come from Jerusalem. However, the major sindologists propose that the Shroud was hidden in Edessa for centuries in the form of the Mandylion and that it remained there until 944. Since

have pointed this out as a mistake thereby suggesting that I am not acquainted with the difference between Rome and Byzantium. It is important to note that “Byzantine” and “Roman” are not contradictory terms. The adjective “Byzantine” was used only after the sixteenth century (by Hieronymus Wolf) and is not found anywhere in primary sources when Byzantium was just the name of the city of Constantinople. The official denomination of that which we call “Byzantine empire” was “Empire of the Romans” (βασιλεία τῶν ῥωμαίων), and the Byzantines called themselves “Romans,” inasmuch as their nation was considered the natural development of the Roman empire. Also the Arabs indicated ”rūm], that is, “Romans.” A “Byzantine] رُوم the Greek-speaking Byzantines with the word coin is, therefore, also “Roman.” Regarding the history and fate of this denomination, especially in the Syriac environment, see F.A. Pennacchietti, “Significati accessori del ter- mine siriaco per ‘romano’,” in E. Adami – C. Rozzonelli (eds.), To a Scholar Sahab. Essays and Writings in Honour of Alessandro Monti, Alessandria, Dell’Orso, 2011, pp. 101–110. An Overview Of Iconography 177

Figure 55 Icon of the Christ Pantokrator, Monastery of St. Catherine on Mount Sinai, Egypt (sixth century ce). Author’s photo archive. the Shroud and the Mandylion are two different objects, it is not surprising that contemporaries thought that the two could be in two different places at the same time. But because Moroni believes they are one and the same, he is forced to argue that the Shroud/Mandylion moved from place to place; first Jerusalem until 678, then Constantinople until 754, then Edessa until 944, and then back to Constantinople until 1204.99 His theory of multiple translations

99 M. Moroni, “Teoria numismatica dell’itinerario sindonico,” in P. Coero-Borga – G. Intri- gillo (eds.), La Sindone. Nuovi studi e ricerche, Cinisello Balsamo, Paoline, 1986, pp. 103– 124. 178 Chapter 6

Figure 56 Solidus of Basil I, Constantinople (868–879 ce). Photo: www. coinarchives.com. creates more problems than it solves so Moroni has modified it somewhat to conform more closely with Wilson’s reconstruction, concluding that the Shroud remained in Edessa from the sixth century until 944. If that was the case, why would Justinian include it on his coins? According to Moroni, “the Byzantine coin bearing the face of Christ confirms the relationship with the Shroud’s characteristics of a face copied from Edessa.” This introduces a new conjecture, that the image was “copied” for the emperor while he was elsewhere (let us not forget that from 639 on, Edessa was in the hands of Muslim Arabs). According to Moroni, the true nature of the Mandylion – which is, the Shroud, in his opinion – was known in Edessa and in Constantinople because it was periodically opened and unfolded. This is proven by – among other things – the existence of coins that depict Christ Enthroned with his feet placed in two different positions.100 (Figure 56) Most likely, this is due to issues with perspective,101 but to Moroni and other sindonologists, it is evidence that

100 The first example of this type was coined by Basil I (867–886): D.R. Sear, Byzantine Coins and their Values, cit., n. 1704; A.L. Friedberg – I.S. Friedberg, Gold Coins of the World, cit., p. 67. 101 Cf. P. Grierson, Catalogue of the Byzantine Coins, cit., p. 154: “The throne is square in section and both it and the small lyre-shaped back are virtually without decoration. Like most later seated types it is not intended to be completely frontal, but to be seen as from Christ’s left; this explains why the two sides of the throne do not match each other and why Christ’s right foot is shown more or less in profile, while his left foot is seen from the An Overview Of Iconography 179 the coins were based on direct observation of the feet of the man on the Shroud, one of which may appear in a different position than the other. This detail of the feet foregrounds a contradiction: on one hand, sindonologists insist that no one knew that the Mandylion was a long shroud because it was always kept closed and was never unfolded, on the other hand, they claim that it was observed in its entirety and even struck on the coins, from head to toe. Going back to Justinian II, it is Moroni himself who quotes an important monograph by James Douglas Breckenridge devoted to the iconography of this emperor’s coins. His conclusions, though – be they right or wrong – are that the image of Christ rex regnantium on the coins is an adaptation of the iconography of the Pantokrator inspired by an antique model, the Zeus pambasileus, as seen, for example, in the famous chryselephantine statue by Phidias. All that remains of this statue is a copy of its head in marble.102 (Figure 57) Results of “technological” tests used to support sindonologic assumptions are invariable embarassing. They consist primairly of attempts at “photometric” comparisons: essentially these are overlays and digital processing of different images (the Shroud, coins, icons). By blowing up the coin’s image, they claim to see details measuring one tenth of a millimeter that reproduce elements present in the Shroud. They are so convinced about these comparisons, that they claim that it is virtually impossible for a coin to have been designed without having seen the relic in the first place.103 There is no need to use tech-

front.” Christ did not limp, nor was one of his legs shorter than the other. A simpler explanation is that on the coin, his “right foot is out-turned to the point of being parallel to the throne” (A. Cutler, Transfigurations. Studies in the Dynamics of Byzantine Iconography, University Park, Pennsylvania State University, 1975, p. 7). Any catalogue of Byzantine coins would contain characters galore, with their feet positioned in different manners, and not all of them are necessary Jesus. 102 Head kept at the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. Cf. J.D. Breckenridge, The Numismatic Ico- nography of Justinian II, New York, American Numismatic Society, 1959, pp. 46–62, especially 58–59. Thus also W.G. Sayles, Ancient Coin Collecting V: the Romaion-Byzantine Culture, Iola, Krause, 1998, p. 28, and P. Grierson, Byzantine Coinage, Washington, Dumbarton Oaks, 1999, p. 34, according to whom the face in the coin “seems ultimately to derive from that of the Phidian Zeus, stressing his divine nature.” 103 M. Moroni, “L’icona di Cristo nelle monete bizantine,” in L. Coppini – F. Cavazzuti (eds.), Le icone di Cristo e la Sindone, cit., especially 128 (for Breckenridge) and 133 (my quotation), with all the inconclusive digital images and the “photometric” evidence. See also H. Pfeiffer, L’arte e la Sindone, cit., pp. 115–116, and E. Csocsán de Várallja, “The Turin Shroud and Hungary,” Ungarn-Jahrbuch. Zeitschrift für die Kunde Ungarns und verwandte Gebiete 15 (1987), pp. 1–49 (especially p. 8, together with the usual false proof of the Sky- litzes codex, and other “evidence” of the presence of the Shroud in Hungary). A technique invented by Alan and Mary Whanger allowed them to identify 188 points of congruence 180 Chapter 6

Figure 57 Copy of the face of Zeus of Olympia. Boston, U.S.A., Museum of Fine Arts (350–340 bce). Photo: Kristján Guðmundsson. nical equipment to spot the difference between the face on the Shroud and that on coins, they differ significantly from one another. Additionally, the regal dress and appearance of the coin portraits have no resemblance to the cadav- erous visage on the Shroud. Moreover, these reconstructions all assume that

between the face of the Shroud and that of the Justinian coin. This is, to say the least, arguable, since the face on the coin is only 10 mm in diameter! Moreover, by means of their “technique” they have also found all manner of objects in old photographs of the Shroud, namely, the cross’ nail, the Roman spear, a sponge on top of a cane, a crown of thorns, two scourges, a big hammer, a pair of pliers, the titulus crucis, a sandal and two tefillin, all dating back to the Ist century, of course! The Whanger’s dubious discoveries are described in The Shroud of Turin. An Adventure of Discovery, Franklin, Providence, 1998 (about the coins, see pp. 33–34). All these arguments have been put forth quite adamantly by Giulio Fanti; he also claims to see two tears below the right eye of the image in the coin, just as the tears that he sees below the eye of the man on the Shroud (almost invisible, he explains, because they have faded as time went by): G. Fanti – P. Malfi, Sindone, primo secolo dopo Cristo!, cit., pp. 131–200, 358–360. I deem it unwise to discuss one-tenth-of-a- millimeter details of the images on coins that have been crafted by hand and with archaic techniques, resulting in drawings that are, to say the least, imprecise. An Overview Of Iconography 181

Figure 58 Solidus of Justinian II (second reign), Constantinople (705–711 ce). Photo: www.numisbids. com. the image on the Shroud of Turin is the oldest (precisely the demonstrandum), and that the other images are modeled on it. This being said, one could also claim the exact contrary, that is, that the Shroud imitated the iconography of the paintings, coins, and icons, and without documentary proof to the contrary, both statements would be equally valid: it is a snake biting its own tail. This fallacy is to be added to the fact that the alleged visual similarities do not really exist. Instead, in some examples we may identify obvious differences that sindonologists tend to dismiss, such as when the iconography of Byzantine coins unmistakably moves away from what might be considered sindonic iconography. Emperor Justinian II, having taken back the throne after a period of exile (704–711), had a series of coins minted that show the face of Christ with a short beard and curly hair arranged in two rows; this does not resemble the first coins minted nor to the Shroud.104 (Figure 58) Additionally, it indicates that there was no codified iconography, nor a single accepted model derived from an Edessean-sindonic archetype. Rather, the numismatic imagery of the first coin showing the Pantokrator developed from prototypes, well known to historians of Byzantine art, “a theme that the official art of the empire had appropriated from the middle of the sixth century.”105 The representation

104 D.R. Sear, Byzantine Coins and their Values, cit., nn. 1413–1425, 1439, 1442–1444. 105 A. Grabar, L’iconoclasme byzantin, cit., p. 44. 182 Chapter 6 shows Christ as the supreme monarch whose sovereignty is higher than the emperor who is depicted as his lieutenant on the other side of the coin. The iconography of Justinian’s second coin was developed after the Council in Trul- lo – convened by Justinian in 690–691 – commanded devotees to stop produc- ing symbolic representations of the Lamb and instead to depict Christ with human traits. This breakthrough “provided the iconography of Christ a sounder stand in historical reality” and is also a rational explanation for what inspiration “could lead to a change in monetary effigy.”106 This is a far more believeable rationale than that proposed by a sindonologist who proposed that the model for Justinian’s second coin was no longer the Shroud/Mandylion because Jus- tinian had decided to have Christ depicted using Syrian-inspired iconography. Further, they suggest that perhaps Justinian was imitating the acheiropoieton image of Camuliana,107 or he wanted to depict Christ as a young man so he set aside the previous models as a form of retaliation towards the Edessean image that had failed to save his from deposition from the throne,108 or because the artist who prepared the coin’s design had been unable to see the Shroud – further, perhaps he was prevented from seeing it by the Muslims109 – or maybe the new design was “an act of friendship toward the pope.”110 Quod gratis adfir- matur, gratis negatur.

Two Copies of the Mandylion of Edessa

Two copies of the Mandylion of Edessa have been considered faithful by some scholars, the so-called Mandylion of Genoa and Mandylion of Rome.111 The

106 G. Dagron, Décrire et peindre. Essai sur le portrait icônique, Paris, Gallimard, 2007, p. 189. 107 Also J.D. Breckenridge shares this idea, The Numismatic Iconography of Justinian II, cit., especially pp. 98–100, without excluding that it could be the Mandylion instead. We are here dealing with conjectures. 108 Cf. M. Moroni, “L’icona di Cristo nelle monete bizantine,” cit., p. 128; P. Baima Bollone, Sindone, storia e scienza, cit., p. 47; I. Wilson, The Shroud. The 2000-Year-Old Mystery Solved, cit., pp. 151–152. 109 G. Fanti, La Sindone. Una sfida alla scienza moderna, Rome, Aracne, 2009, pp. 117–118. 110 F. Manservigi, L’uomo della Sindone e il volto di Cristo nell’arte, Patti, Kimerik, 2013, p. 91. 111 About these two paintings, A.M. Amman, “Due immagini del cosiddetto Cristo di Edessa,” Rendiconti della Pontificia Accademia Romana d’Archeologia 38 (1965–1966), pp. 185–194 (the initial historical part is very weak); C. Bertelli, Storia e vicende dell’immagine edessena, cit., pp. 3–33; M. Fagiolo – M.L. Madonna, Roma, 1300–1875. La città degli anni santi, Milan, Mondadori, 1985, pp. 122–123; G. Morello – G. Wolf (eds.), Il volto di Cristo, cit., pp. 91–92; G. Wolf – C. Dufour Bozzo – A.R. Calderoni Masetti (eds.), Mandylion. Intorno An Overview Of Iconography 183

Figure 59 Mandylion of Genoa, detail. San Bartolomeo degli Armeni, Genoa, Italy (second half of the thirteenth century ce). Photo: Kunsthistorisches Institut in Florenz – Max-Planck- Institut. former (Figure 59) is a painting on poplar covered with a linen canvas, gilded and painted, and probably dating from the second half of the thirteenth century. It is inserted into a fourtheenth-century Byzantine Palaiologian frame,112 and it may have been produced to serve as a diplomatic gift. According to the tradition, it was given to the Genoese Doge Leonardo Montaldo by emperor John V Palaiologos, arriving in Genoa before 1384; years later, it entered the custody of the Basilian monks of San Bartolomeo degli Armeni. The Genoese copy shows the face of a living man, with no obvious wounds or signs of distress. He is depicted with a pointed beard and long hair, and does not resemble

al Sacro Volto da Bisanzio a Genova, cit.; C. Dufour Bozzo, “Il Sacro Volto di Genova: mandylion e mandylia, una storia senza fine?,” in P. Boccardo – C. Di Fabio (eds.), Genova e l’Europa mediterranea: opere, artisti, committenti, collezionisti, Genova, Fondazione Carige, 2005, pp. 69–87; O. Sartori, “Il Mandylion. Annotazioni storiche e iconografiche sul volto ‘autentico’ di Cristo in Vaticano,” Rendiconti della Pontificia Accademia Romana di Archeologia 83 (2010–2011), pp. 379–407. 112 Carbon-dating has yielded the following results: 1210–1295 for the panel, 1300–1440 for the frame, with a probability of 95,4%. M. Milazzo, “Osservazioni sul metodo di datazione con il radiocarbonio,” in G. Wolf et alii (eds.), Mandylion. Intorno al Sacro Volto da Bisanzio a Genova, cit., p. 119. 184 Chapter 6

Figure 60 Mandylion of Genoa, detail of the frame. San Bartolomeo degli Armeni, Genoa, Italy (second half of the thirteenth century ce). Photo: Kunsthistorisches Institut in Florenz – Max-Planck-Institut. the man on the Shroud of Turin. It is also devoid of any elements suggesting that it copies an original that showed the rest of the body. Equally important, a golden frame around the painting includes a painted narrative cycle showing scenes from the legend of Abgar. In the cycle the Mandylion is represented as a small cloth with only the face of Christ and it fits comfortably in the hands of the figures who hold it. (Figure 60) The Mandylion of Rome (Figure 61) is also painted on wood that is covered with canvas (cypress and linen), its support is thus like that of the Genoese copy. The Roman copy is housed in a silver frame-reliquary created by Fran- cesco Comi (1623), it was originally placed in the church of San Silvestro in Capite. According to one of the legends, the Mandylion was brought to Rome by Greek monks at the time of the iconoclastic crisis, along with the head of St. John the Baptist.113 In order to justify the existence of another Mandylion in

113 Cf. G. Giacchetti, Historia della venerabile chiesa et monastero di S. Silvestro de capite, Mas- cardi, Rome 1629, pp. 21–26; see also Id., Iconologia Salvatoris et karilogia Praecursoris, Rome, apud Iacobum Mascardum, 1628. An Overview Of Iconography 185

Figure 61 Mandylion of Rome. Vatican City, Pontifical Sacristy (second half of the thirteenth century ce). Author’s photo archive.

Genoa, it was deemed a copy, obtained from S. Paul the Younger of Mount Latros.114 The Roman copy was moved to the Vatican in 1870 where it was kept in the little Romanelli gallery near the Matilda Chapel in the Vatican Ap- ostolic Palace (today renamed the Redemptoris Mater Chapel). Some years ago the painting was moved to the Pontifical Sacristy (the so-called Pontifical Treasury).115 It is likely that this copy was in Rome at the end of the thirteenth century,116 and a text from the time speaks of the translation of a sindon with the image of the face of Jesus to Rome,117 although its presence in San Silvestro

114 Cf. G. Carletti, Memoire istorico-critiche della chiesa e monastero di S. Silvestro in Capite, Rome, Pilucchi Cracas, 1795, pp. 98–99; also G. Giacchetti, Historia della venerabile chiesa, cit., pp. 32–33. 115 It is a fact that it has never been “in St. Peter’s Vatican inside the chapel of Matilda of Canossa,” since such chapel has nothing to do with St. Peter’s basilica (B. Frale, The Tem- plars and the Shroud of Christ, cit., p. 110). I thank Guido Cornini from Musei Vaticani, for the information regarding the recent movements of the Mandylion. 116 According to a work written in 1317–1319, the Nestorian Rabban Sauma would have seen, in 1287, in the church of St Peter in Rome, “the cloth of pure cotton on which our Lord imprinted his own image to send it to king Abgar of Urha”: P.G. Borbone, Storia di Mar Yahballaha e di Rabban Sauma, Turin, Lulu, 2009, p. 75. 117 Cod. Vaticanus Latinus 6076: “Dominus autem noster Iesus Christus accipiens sindonem, tergens faciem suam, in qua statim imago ipsius salvatoris apparuit” (ed. A. Poncelet, 186 Chapter 6 can only be documented to 1587. The face of Jesus in the Roman copy closely resembles the Genoese version and their size is similar as well, about 29 × 18 cm for Genoese painting, the Roman painting measures, 28 × 19 cm. There is a deal of disagreement about which of the two copies is earliest.118 Hans Belting believes that a late antiquite original may be hidden under later overpaint in the Roman version.119 Some sindonologists have identified in these paintings a copy of the face of the Shroud, despite clear differences. Daniel Scavone, for example, writes that the Genoese icon is “a grotesque copy of the face of the man in the Shroud, as it appears within the hairline.”120 Mark Guscin disagrees with those who identify the Genoese image with the real Mandylion of Edessa, stating that:

if the Mandylion of Genoa is the original Image of Edessa, then it was always a simple painting and never an ἀχειροποίητος. It is much more likely that what is kept in Genoa today is an early copy of the Image. The same could also be stated for another claimant to being the original Image of Edessa, namely the cloth kept today in the pope’s private Matilda Chapel in the Vatican. That one too is clearly a painting […]. The icon was presented as the original Image of Edessa not made by human hands, but as with the Genoa image, this would be a self-contradiction.121

Guscin seems to be convinced about the reality of the legend of the Edessean image and he is engaged in searching for a miraculously created image. Argu- ing for a single, shared identification between the Shroud and the Mandylion is the primary purpose of his book: the sixth and seventh chapters end with the author asserting unequivovally that:

It can confidently be stated that some people at some times believed, rightly or wrongly, that the Image of Edessa contained a full-body imprint of Jesus of Nazareth. […] Some writers were convinced, for whatever reason, that it was indeed a full-body image on a large cloth that had been

Catalogus codicum hagiographicorum latinorum Bibliothecae Vaticanae, Brussels, apud Socios Bollandianos, 1910, pp. 508–509). 118 Some results of the analyses carried out on the Roman painting by Maurizio De Luca, Restorations’ Inspector at the Musei Vaticani, are mentioned in O. Sartori, Il Mandylion, cit. 119 H. Belting, Likeness and Presence. A History of the Image Before the Era of Art, Chicago, University of Chicago Press, 1994, p. 210. 120 D.C. Scavone, “A Review of Recent Scholarly Literature,” cit., p. 426. 121 M. Guscin, The Image of Edessa, cit., p. 190. An Overview Of Iconography 187

folded over (possibly in such a way that only the face was visible) and that it did contain bloodstains.122

Importantly, Mark Guscin is a member of the British Society for the Turin Shroud and he was Ian Wilson’s successor as editor of the Society’s Newsletter. For those acquainted with sindonologic theory his intention cannot be over- looke, and it has not escaped reviewers of his book.123 Yet it is abundantly clear that the texts on which he has based his investigation, and which have all been discussed here, by no means justify his conclusions.

122 M. Guscin, The Image of Edessa, cit., pp. 209 and 215. 123 A. Cameron, in The Medieval Review, in https://scholarworks.iu.edu/dspace/han- dle/2022/3734; X. Lequeux, in Analecta bollandiana 127/1 (2009), p. 222; V. Kontouma, in Revue des études byzantines 69 (2011), pp. 290–292; R. Gounelle, in Revue d’histoire et de philosophie religieuses 91/1 (2011), p. 113. Charles Barber does not explicitly denounce the sindonological intention of the author, but he believes that the texts used by Guscin to justify his hypothesis of a long Mandylion showing the entire figure of a man “do not provide consistently strong evidence that would allow us to overthrow the weight of verbal and visual evidence” (in Speculum 86 [2011], p. 502). 188 Chapter 7

Chapter 7 The End

The Sainte-Chapelle in Paris and the Disappearance of the Mandylion

Unlike what some sindologists have asserted, we know the fate of the now-lost Mandylion of Constantinople.1 From March 1204, before the attack on the city, the Crusaders had determined that the two great imperial palaces of Constan- tinople, Blachernae and Bucoleon, would become the property of the Latin emperor of Constantinople. On April 13, after the Latins entered the city, both palaces were seized.2 Geoffroy de Villehardouin witnessed the events and described them:

At the same time that this palace [of Bucoleon] was surrendered to the Marquis Boniface of Montferrat, the palace of Blachernae was surrendered to Henry, the brother of Count Baldwin of Flanders, on the condition that no damage should be done to the bodies of those who were therein. There too was found much treasure, not less than in the palace of Bucoleon. Each crusader garrisoned with his own people the castle that had been surrendered to him, and set a guard over the treasure. And the other people, spread widely throughout the city, also gained much booty.3

The city was looted between April 13th to the 15th, but both palaces were spared. Just before the election of the Latin emperor the palaces were abandoned by their occupiers and placed in the hands of a common guard so that the newly elected emperor could access them immediately without fear of resistance.4 If each of the two crusaders – Henry of Hainaut and Boniface of Montferrat – “garrisoned with his own people the castle that had been surrendered to him,

1 Cf. D.C. Scavone, “A Review of Recent Scholarly Literature,” cit., p. 456: “No text asserts that the Holy Face of Edessa was ever destroyed.” While there is no explicit record of its destruction, it is widely known that it was lost in 1793, and most likely destroyed, just as many other relics in France. 2 Cf. A. Carile, Per una storia dell’impero latino di Costantinopoli, Bologna, Patron, 1978, pp. 154 and 159–161. 3 G. de Villehardouin, La conquête de Constantinople, 250. Translation by Frank T. Marzials. 4 Cf. R. de Clari, La conquête de Constantinople, 93–94.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2014 | doi 10.1163/9789004278523_008 The End 189 and set a guard over the treasure,” it is unlikely that the relics in the palaces were plundered by individual crusaders who were out of control. But sindologists have attributed the theft of the Mandylion/Shroud to such rogue crusaders and that it arrived in the West via circuitous paths (crusaders, Templars, bishops, sovereigns)5 Initially, the Latin emperors tried not to disperse the imperial treasure they had captured and the Mandylion, along with other important relics of the Pharos, was spared the translation to the West.6 Within a few years though, Baldwin II was running out of money and agreed to negotiatate a sale of relics with Louis IX, King of France. Between 1242 and 1248, Louis had built in Paris the sumptuous Sainte-Chapelle, a chapel for his royal palace that functioned as a large-scale reliquary for the sacred objects he purchased from Constanti- nople. The Byzantine emperor had direct access to the Chapel of Holy Mary of the Pharos through a passage that linked it to his palace. Louis could also go directly from his royal palace to this personal chapel. When the relics arrived in Paris they were placed in an impressive wooden reliquary known as the Grande Chasse, located in a central position near the altar on the upper floor of the chapel.7 An official statement survives documenting the transfer of the relics to Lou- is IX, dated June 1247, and signed by Baldwin.8 It deserves to be fully quoted:

5 All these theories are refuted in A. Nicolotti, I Templari e la Sindone. Storia di un falso, cit. 6 About this, see the useful summary by K. Krause, “Immagine-reliquia: da Bisanzio all’Occidente,” in G. Wolf – C. Dufour Bozzo – A.R. Calderoni Masetti (eds.), Mandylion. Intorno al Sacro Volto da Bisanzio a Genova, cit., pp. 209–235. 7 The useful work is J. Durand – M.P. Laffitte (eds.), Le trésor de la Sainte-Chapelle, Paris, Réunion des Musées Nationaux, 2001. About the Grande Chasse, see R. Branner’s, “The Grande Chasse of the Sainte-Chapelle,” Gazette des Beaux-Arts n.s. 77 (1971), pp. 5–18. Regarding the Shroud and the Mandylion, see E. Poulle, “À propos des reliques de la Passion à la Sainte-Chapelle,” Revue Internationale du Linceul de Turin (April 23rd, 2002), pp. 12–18. More generally: C. Hediger (ed.), La Sainte-Chapelle de Paris. Royaume de France ou Jérusalem céleste? Turnhout, Brepols, 2007. 8 The sale had alredy taken place when the documents were signed; according to Luigi Canetti, it was the “ex post covering of an operation still perceived as virtually sacrilegious” (“Dai Templari a Bisanzio o la falsa preistoria della Sindone di Torino,” in G. Vespignani [ed.], Polidoro. Studi offerti ad Antonio Carile, Spoleto, Fondazione CISAM, 2013, p. 835, note 25). Thus also H.A. Klein, “Eastern Objects and Western Desires. Relics and Reliquaries between Byzantium and the West,” Dumbarton Oaks Papers 58 (2004), p. 308. Regarding the links between emperors and relics: S. Mergiali-Sahas, “Byzantine Emperors and Holy Relics. Use and Misuse of Sanctity and Authority,” Jahrbuch der Österreichischen Byzantinistik 51 (2001), pp. 41–60. 190 Chapter 7

Baldwin, by the grace of God most faithful emperor in Christ, crowned by God, regent of Romania and always augustus, to all the faithful in Christ, present as well as future, to whom this present letter shall come, [wishes] eternal health in the Lord. We want everybody to know that as a sponta- neous and free gift, we have fully surrendered and granted completely, and we have entirely left and we leave to our dear friend and kindred Louis, most illustrious king of France, the sacred crown of thorns of the Lord and a large portion of the life-giving cross of Christ, along with other precious and sacred relics – which are later on specified by their names – once devoutly located in the city of Constantinople, and recently, due to an urgent need in the empire of Constantinople, given in pawn to different creditors and at different times; the king himself, for our will, has redeemed them for a large amount of money and has had them transferred to Paris, with our consent. Here are the names of the venerable relics: the aforementioned sacred crown of thorns of the Lord, and the holy cross; and then from the blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, the cloths of the Savior’s infancy, with which he was wrapped in the cot; another large portion of the wood of the holy cross; the blood that, by an amazing miracle, dripped from an image of the Lord struck by an infidel; then the chain, or iron link, almost in the form of a ring, with which, it is believed, our Lord was tied; the holy cloth inserted into a board; a large part of the stone from the tomb of our Lord Jesus Christ; from the milk of the Blessed Virgin Mary; then the iron rod of the holy spear with which the side of our Lord Jesus Christ was pierced; another small cross, which the ancients called triumphant cross because the emperors used to take it to wars in the hope of victory; the scarlet cloak that the soldiers put on our Lord Jesus Christ, in mockery; the reed that they put in his hand instead of a scepter; the sponge soaked in vinegar that he was given when he was thirsty on the cross; part of the shroud with which his body was wrapped in the tomb; then the linen which he put on when he washed the disciples’ feet, and with which he wiped their feet; the rod of Moses; the upper part of the head of Blessed John the Baptist, and the heads of Saints Blaise, Clement, and Simeon. As testimony of the perpetual validity of this action, we have sealed this letter with our imperial seal, and we have stamped it with our golden bull. Given in Saint-Germain-en-Laye, the year of the Lord 1247, month of June, the eighth year of our empire.9

9 Balduinus II, Epistula Ludovico IX: “Balduinus Dei gratia fidelissimus in Christo imperator a Deo coronatus, Romaniae moderator et semper augustus, universis Christi fidelibus tam praesentibus quam futuris, ad quos litterae praesentes pervenerint, aeternam in Domino The End 191

Louis IX purchased and translated all the relics of the Chapel of the Pharos to the Sainte-Chapelle, including the sancta toella tabulae insertam, that is, a holy “cloth” (toella or tuella, in French toelle or toille) inserted into a “board,” “tablet,” “panel,” “frame,” “casket,” “chest” or “shrine”: tabula (in French table, tableau, tablier) is the name that was used to designate a reliquary, usually in the form of a square or rectangular panel, sometimes with a closing lid.10 A panel decorated with gold was also the support to which the Edessean cloth had been fixed, according to earliest documents.

salutem. Notum fieri volumus universis, quod nos charissimo amico, et consanguineo nostro Ludovico regi Franciae illustrissimo, sacrosanctam spineam coronam Domini, et magnam portionem vivificae crucis Christi, una cum aliis pretiosis et sacris reliquiis, quae propriis vocabulis inferius sunt expressa, quas olim in Constantinopolitana urbe venera- biliter collocatas, et tandem pro urgenti necessitate imperii Constantinopolitani diversis creditoribus et diversis temporibus pignori obligatas idem dominus rex de nostra voluntate redemit magna pecuniae quantitate, et eas fecit Parisius de beneplacito nostro transferri, eidem domino regi, spontaneo et gratuito dono plane dedimus, absolute con cessimus, et ex toto quitavimus, et quitamus, quas utique venerandas reliquias propriis nominibus duximus exprimendas, videlicet praedictam sacrosanctam spineam coronam Domini, et crucem sanctam. Item de sanguine Domini nostri Iesu Christi; pannos infan- tiae Salvatoris, quibus fuit in cunabulis involutus; aliam magnam partem de ligno sanctae crucis; sanguinem, qui de quadam imagine Domini ab infideli percussa stupendo mira- culo distillavit; catenam etiam, sive vinculum ferreum, quasi in modum annulli factum, quo creditur idem Dominus noster fuisse ligatus; sanctam toellam tabulae insertam; magnam partem de lapide sepulchri Domini nostri Iesu Christi. De lacte beatae Marie virgi- nis. Item ferrum sacrae lanceae quo perforatum fuit in cruce latus Domini nostri Iesu Christi; crucem aliam mediocrem, quam crucem triumphalem veteres appellabant, quia ipsam in spem victoriae consueverant imperatores ad bella deferre; clamidem coccineam quam circumdederunt milites Domino nostro Iesu Christo, in illusionem ipsius; arundinem quem pro sceptro posuerunt in manu ipsius; spongiam quam porrexerunt ei sitienti in cruce aceto plenam; partem sudarii quo involutum fuit corpus eius in sepulchro; linteum etiam quo praecinxit se quando lavit pedes discipulorum, et quo eorum pedes extersit; virgam Moysi; superiorem partem capitis beati Ioannis Baptistae, et capita sanc- torum Blasii, Clementis et Simeonis. In cuius rei testimonium, et perpetuam firmitatem, nos signavimus praesentes litteras nostro signo imperiali, et bullavimus nostra bulla aurea. Actum apud Sanctum Germanum in Laia. Anno Domini 1247, mense iunii, imperii nostri anno octavo” (ed. S.J. Morand, Histoire de la Ste-Chapelle Royale du Palais, Paris, Clousier – Prault, 1790, Pièces justificatives, pp. 7–8. Quotations are often made of Paul Riant’s edition, which is, however, second-hand, and by mistake has skipped the phrase “arundinem […] ipsius”: P. Riant, Exuviae sacrae constantinopolitanae, vol. 2, cit., pp. 134– 135). 10 Cf. J. Braun, Die Reliquiare des christlichen Kultes, Freiburg, Herder, 1940, pp. 43–45. 192 Chapter 7

Paul Riant had no doubts when he identified this toella with “the image of Edessa itself, the famous Mandylion”11 that Robert de Clari had already called touaile. Evidently, it had been removed from the vessel that, hanging from a chain, was suspended from the ceiling of the Chapel of the Pharos (the vas and the vaissiau described by the Anonymous of Tarragona and Robert de Clari); it was therefore left in its simple chest, the capsule mentioned in 1150 by the Eng- lish pilgrim.12 The only funeral cloth of Jesus that is mentioned in the document is the “part of the shroud (sudarium)13 with which his body was wrapped in the grave”: a very different object. Yet Ian Wilson believes that the sancta toella was not the Mandylion of Edessa:

The cloth referred to in 1246, was regarded as one of the less important of the relics purchased at that time, the major acquisition being the reputed Crown of Thorns. Taken, along with the Crown of Thorns, to the Sainte Chapelle, it went on to slumber in virtually total obscurity, never mentioned as one of the major relics of the collection. […] It seems inconceivable that a cloth that had such an illustrious earlier history should, once in the West, have suffered such an obscure fate.14

Mark Guscin also argues that the Mandylion could not have ended up Paris, based on the use of the term toella to indicate the relic of the Sainte-Chapelle:

It would be strange for a new term to have been introduced to name an object that was so well identified as either the Mandylion or the acheiropoietos image of Edessa. […] It seems unlikely that the sancta toella obtained by Louis IX was the Mandylion (it would surely have been described in clearer terms).15

11 P. Riant, Exuviae sacrae constantinopolitanae, vol. 1: Fasciculus documentorum minorum, Geneva, Fick, 1877, p. clxxxi. 12 Relliquiae Constantinopolitanae: “In alia capsula est mantile, quod, visui Domini applica- tum, imaginem vultus eius retinuit” (ed. P. Riant, Exuviae sacrae constantinopolitanae, vol. 2, cit., p. 212). 13 At this time the Latin word sudarium and the French word suaire have just become synonyms of “shroud.” In fact the Shroud of Turin, in French, Spanish and Italian, is also called Saint Suaire or Santo Sudario. 14 I. Wilson, The Turin Shroud, cit., p. 151. 15 M. Guscin, The Image of Edessa, cit., p. 189. The End 193

In short Wilson believes that the cloth with the image from Edessa would have been as valuable in France as it had been in Constantinople. Both Wilson and Guscin seem to forget that even in Constantinople the Mandylion was not considered the most important relic in the city and it wasn’t even the most significant object in the Chapel of the Pharos.16 The king of France had different frame of reference than the overthrown Byzantine emperor and for him the most important object was the crown of thorns. In the West, where the legend of the Veronica was widely known, the story of the Edessean image had a more limited diffusion, and it is entirely justifiable that the relic was assigned importance based on what was known about it. The argument that the object was too well known by the names of “Mandylion” and “acheiropoieton” to be called otherwise, clashes with the clear evidence of the testimonies: suffice it to mention the example of Robert de Clari, a Frenchman, who ignored those terms and spoke only of a touaile, using exactly the same terminology as Baldwin in his declaration. Wilson also attempts to argue that the Mandylion, at the time of the looting of the city, was no longer in the Chapel of the Pharos, as

the priceless relic collection that it housed remained intact, and was carefully catalogued by Garnier de Traînel, Bishop of Troyes. […] De Traî- nel’s list of what he found in the chapel has survived. Other objects that had been in the imperial collection are all there, but there is no record of any image-bearing cloth or shroud.17

It is true that the Chapel of the Pharos had remained essentially intact, as Wil- son says. That the Mandylion was no longer there is a conjecture that allows the supporters of the Mandylion/Shroud to claim that the relic would have been moved elsewhere before the conquest of the palace by the Crusaders. Yet there is not a shred of evidence for this displacement: Anthony of Novgorod, Robert de Clari, and Nicholas Mesarites confirm that immediately before, during and after the Fourth Crusade, the object was not moved from its chapel. Wilson cites a list made by Garnier de Traînel, referring to Paul Riant’s collection of documents, but with incomplete references.18 I have not been able to

16 It is false that it “became the most celebrated and revered object of the empire” (B. Frale, “La visione dell’abisso,” in M. Montesano [ed.], Come l’orco della fiaba. Studi per Franco Cardini, Florence, Sismel, 2010, p. 136). 17 I. Wilson, The Turin Shroud, cit., p. 152. 18 He does not say where exactly this list is: there is no indication of volume or page number. 194 Chapter 7 find any list by Garnier and I have never located a list by Garnier anywhere, not even in the many publications devoted to the imperial relics. Having dispelled the notion that the Mandylion remained in the church where it had been until it passed into Baldwin’s and then Louis of France’s collection, we can follow the Mandylion’s fate in Paris. The story of the Translatio sancte corone, written by the monk Gérard de Saint-Quentin-en-l’Isle after 1241, mentions, among the relics of the Sainte-Chapelle, a “board that touched the face of the Lord, when he was taken down from the cross,” and “part of a shroud in which the body of Christ laid in the tomb was wrapped.”19 It is noteworthy that the acheiropoieton image is described as a distinct and separate object from the shroud, without acknowledging the legend of Abgar. The liturgical sequences De sanctis reliquis (c. 1250–1260) allude to the Mandylion with the words tabula, mappa, and mappula, and also speak of the sudarium.20 A frequently overlooked document, which was affixed onto a paschal candle in the year 1327, tells us that when the tabula arrived in France in 1327, eighty-eight years had passed since the arrival of the crown of thorns in Paris, and eighty- seven had elapsed since the arrival of the “board that touched the face of Christ.” Finally, it states that St. Louis IX had died fifty-seven years earlier.21 Other sources confirm that the crown arrived in Paris in 1239, and that the king died in 1270, so we can infer that the Mandylion reached Paris in 1240. In the final years of the fifteenth century the pilgrim Arnold von Harff visited the Sainte-Chapelle and described the relic as “a piece of cloth in which our Lord Jesus sweated blood and water,” indicating his belief that this was the towel that wiped the face of Jesus during his Passion.22 The Book of Hours of the Sainte-Chapelle (c. 1506), illuminated by Giovanni Todeschino, includes a representation of the contents of the Grande Chasse.23 The illumination shows the crown of thorns as the central and most recognizable relic; other relics are displayed around the crown of thorns including a shroud. Beneath the head of

19 F. de Mély, Exuviae sacrae constantinopolitanae, Paris, Leroux, 1904, pp. 107 and 109: “Tabula quedam quam, cum deponeretur Dominus de cruce, eius facies tetigit […]. Pars quedam sudarii quo in sepulcro positum corpus Christi obvolutum fuit.” 20 Cf. K. Gould, “The Sequences De sanctis reliquiis as Sainte-Chapelle Inventories,” Mediae- val Studies 43 (1981), pp. 315–341, especially 238, 331–332 and 338–340. Texts in R.J. Hesbert, Le Prosaire de la Sainte-Chapelle. Manuscrit du chapitre de Saint-Nicolas de Bari, Macon, Protat, 1952. 21 S.J. Morand, Histoire de la Ste-Chapelle Royale du Palais, cit., pp. 121–122: “Quadam tabula quam tetigit facies Christi.” 22 E. von Groote (ed.), Die Pilgerfahrt des Ritters Arnold von Harff, Cöln, Heberle, 1860, p. 245: “Item van deme sweyss doich, dae inne vnser here Jhesus wasser ind bloyt gesweist hat.” 23 Cf. J. Durand – M.P. Laffitte (eds.), Le trésor de la Sainte-Chapelle, cit., pp. 132–133. The End 195

Figure 62 Miniature of Giovanni Todeschino, Book of Hours of the Sainte-Chapelle of Paris, f. 137v, detail. Private collection (c. 1506 ce). Author’s photo archive.

St. John the Baptist is a rectangular box that, according to the subsequent descriptions, mostly likely held the Mandylion. (Figure 62) In March 1534, the first detailed inventory of the Grande Chasse was completed by François de Montmorency, Lord of La Rochepot.24 This list is essentially a French translation of the aforementioned document of 1247, and the author specifically lists the presence of the “holy cloth inserted into the board.”25

24 There are other previous inventories – quite unspecific – of the Grande Chasse; regarding these texts, are essential the studies gathered in the monographic work by A. Vidier, Le tresor de la Sainte-Chapelle. Inventaires et documents, Paris, Societe de l’Histoire de Paris et de l’Ile-de-France,̂ 1911 (which gathers in one volume everything previously published in the form of articles in the journal Memoires de la Societe de l’Histoire de Paris et de l’Île-de- France). 25 “Saincte toelle inserée à la table.” The wrong lection treille or trelle instead of toelle is to be corrected: cf. J. Durand – M.P. Laffitte (eds.), Le trésor de la Sainte-Chapelle, cit., p. 70; E. Poulle, “À propos des reliques,” cit., p. 18, note 6, explains the mistake as a confusion 196 Chapter 7

In this cloth – add Michel Félibien and Arthur-Michel de Boislisle – “there is the face of our Lord Jesus Christ.”26 There is also the usual “part of the shroud with which his body was wrapped in the tomb.”27 In the appendix there is a note regarding the toelle:

Regarding the eighth article, containing the cloth inserted into the board, after many difficulties it was finally found, in a large shrine and tablet garnished with gilded silver, where there the appearance of an effigy, the said cloth as threadbare on said tablet, around, by and inside the said effigy.28

Apparently while making his inventory, the author experienced some problems finding the object that in Latin was called toella tabule inserta, perhaps because of an ambiguous use of the terms tableau and table to indicate the tabula.29 The fabric is described as “threadbare” and it seems that the effigy was difficult to see. François de Montmorency may have had difficulty making the image out since it was almost completely faded (an indirect confirmation of Byzantine testimonies that describe the difficulty of deciphering the image on the fabric). From that time on the terminology in the documents changes from what was used in the act of cession of 1247. Between 1534 and 1573, an inventory lists a “Veronica, with ten missing stones” and a portion of “the shroud of the Lord, where there is nothing missing.”30 An engraving of the Grande Chasse from

between “r” and “o”, not uncommon in Gothic handwriting. It is therefore fruitless to entertain ideas such as Maria Grazia Siliato’s Edessean “trellis frame” (empty, though, since the Mandylion/Shroud would have been elsewhere!): Sindone: mistero dell’impronta di duemila anni fa, cit., pp. 243–245). 26 “Où est la face de Nostre Seigneur Jésus Christ”: M. Félibien, Histoire de la ville de Paris, tome 3, Paris, Desprez, 1725, p. 150; A.M. de Boislisle, Pièces justificatives pour servir à l’histoire des premiers présidents (1506–1791), Paris, Imprimerie de Gouverneur, 1873, p. 48 (§59). 27 “Partie du suaire auquel fut enveloppé son corps au sepulchre.” 28 A. Vidier, “Le tresor de la Sainte-Chapelle,” Memoires de la Societe de l’Histoire de Paris et de l’Île-de-France 35 (1908), pp. 190–192 (inventory L): “Et au regard du huitieme article, contenant la toille inserée à la table, après plusieurs difficultés, a esté finallement trouvée en un grand reliquaire et tableau garny d’argent surdoré, où y a apparence d’une effigie, ladite toille comme consommée contre ledit tableau, autour, environ et dans ladite effigie.” 29 Thus G. Ciccone – C. Sturmann Ciccone, La sindone svelata e i quaranta sudari, cit., p. 172. 30 A. Vidier, “Le tresor de la Sainte-Chapelle,” cit., p. 193 (inventory M): “Véronique, où il y a faute de dix pierres” and “De sindone Domini, où il n’y a faulte.” The End 197

Figure 63 Grande chasse of the Sainte-Chapelle, engraving dating from 1649. Paris, Biblio- thèque Nationale de France, Estampes, Va 225 F, n° 2184. J. Durand – M.P. Laffitte (eds.), Le trésor de la Sainte-Chapelle, Paris, Réunion des Musées Nationaux, 2001, p. 134.

1649 shows the box under the head of John the Baptist with a caption that identifies it as a relic of the “cloth inserted into a board.”31 (Figure 63) In the inventory of August 30th, 1740, both reliquaries are clearly described:

Another box, twenty-two inches long by fifteen inches wide, also covered with silver plates and garnished with some precious stones; inside that

31 “S. toile enchassée en une table”; J. Durand – M.P. Laffitte (eds.), Le trésor de la Sainte- Chapelle, cit., pp. 134–135. 198 Chapter 7

box, the bottom is covered with gold plates all around, and in the middle there is the representation of the Holy Face of our Lord, that is the Veron- ica. […] Another reliquary almost square in shape, from nine to ten inches in length and width, the upper part closed by four rock crystals, with golden chasings and enchasings, the sides and the back of gilded silver, decorated with enamelled bas-reliefs, and on the back is represented with reliefs the tomb of our Lord; in this reliquary there are relics, with this inscription: “From the shroud of the Lord.”32

The Eastern legend of the Mandylion was almost unknown in France and clearly the Veronica legend has become the dominant backstory for the icon. According to the most recent version of the legend, Veronica was a woman from Jerusalem, who, seeing Jesus carrying his cross on his way to Calvary, gave him a cloth so that he might wipe the drops of agony from his forehead with it. After using the napkin, Jesus handed it back to her with the image of his face miraculously impressed upon it. However, the primitive form of the legend (sixth century) is similar to that of the Mandylion: the image was not an acheiropoieton but a painting made by Veronica herself, and the story was not set during the Passion.33 The original miraculous Veronica was said to be kept in Rome, in St. Peter’s basilica. The object became famous in the West and it attracted countless pilgrims, especially during the holy years when visiting the Veronica granted in- dulgences. This explains why in Paris, the image of Edessa, a cloth featuring the image of Christ’s face, could be mistaken for the Veronica’s veil.

32 A. Vidier, “Le tresor de la Sainte-Chapelle,” cit., pp. 297 and 295–296 (inventory R): “Une autre boette, de vingt deux pouces de long sur quinze pouces de large, aussy couverte de lames d’argent et garnye de quelques pierres précieuses; au dedans de la ditte boette, le fond est revêtu de lames d’or dans tout le contour, et dans le milieu est la représentation de la sainte face de Notre Seigneur, ou la Véronique” and “Un autre reliquaire de forme presque quarrée, de neuf à dix pouces de long et de large, le dessus fermé par quatre cris- taux de roche, avec des enchâssures et certissures d’or, les costez et le derrière de vermeil doré, ornés de bas reliefs émaillez, et sur le derrière est représenté en reliefs le tombeau de Notre Seigneur; dans lequel reliquaire sont des reliques, avec cette inscription: De sindone Domini.” 33 Cf. R. Gounelle, “Les origines littéraires de la légende de Véronique et de la Sainte Face: la Cura sanitatis Tiberii et la Vindicta Saluatoris,” in A. Monaci Castagno (ed.), Sacre impronte e oggetti “non fatti da mano d’uomo,” cit., 231–251. The End 199

Figure 64 Sainte-Chapelle of Paris, France. Upper chapel, apse. Author’s photo archive.

Also in this inventory the portion of the shroud is specified as being located in a separate reliquary. The measurements of the box where the Mandylion was kept are also provided (in French inches), it measured about 60 × 40 cm.34 On March 11, 1787, the King of France, Louis XVI, by a decree of the Council of State, ordered the confiscation of the goods of the Sainte-Chapelle and an inventory of its contents carried out. Louis ordered this because he planned to suppress chapters of holy chapels throughout the kingdom. But the storming of the Bastille on July 14, 1789, changed his plans and history. While the king was trying to prevent the revolution, canon Sauveur-Jérôme Morand published the Histoire de la Ste-Chapelle Royale du Palais, which compiles numerous doc-

34 The French inch was equal to 0,02709 meters: cf. Instruction sur les nouvelles mesures de longueur, de surface et de solidité, Châlons, Pinteville-Bouchard, 1799, p. 9. 200 Chapter 7

Figure 65 Sainte-Chapelle of Paris, France. Grande Chasse, engraving of Sauveur-Jérôme Morand, Histoire de la Ste-Chapelle Royale du Palais, Paris, Clousier – Prault, 1790, p. 40. uments and engravings.35 In the church’s apse, it is still possible to see the plat- form where, in the past, the Grande Chasse was kept under an elevated baldachin. (Figure 64) The Grande Chasse was destroyed, but its appearance and contents are depicted in Morand’s engraving. (Figure 65) The representation differs significantly from previous ones: the box containing the cloth (nº 18), that was previously placed under the head of John the Baptist is shown located to the right of the crown of thorns, under the cross-shaped reliquary of the spear of Longinus. (Figure 66) The objects inside the Chasse had been rear-

35 S.J. Morand, Histoire de la Ste-Chapelle Royale du Palais, cit., p. 40; cf. J. Durand – M.P. Laffitte (eds.), Le trésor de la Sainte-Chapelle, cit., pp. 136–137. The End 201

Figure 66 Sainte-Chapelle of Paris, France. Detail of the Grande Chasse, engraving of Sauveur-Jérôme Morand, Histoire de la Ste-Chapelle Royale du Palais, cit., ibidem. ranged and some reliquaries may even have been changed, which helps explain some discrepancies with earlier descriptions. A decree of the National Assembly in November, 1789, transferred all church property to the state. On July 1, 1790, Morand presented his book to the Assem- bly, but he could not prevent the effects of the Civil Constitution of the Clergy, issued eleven days afterwards, that suppressed the privileges of the Sainte- Chapelle, along with all abbeys, chapters, and religious congregations. The church ceased to exist as a Royal institution and all assets were seized by the state as public property. On February 25, 1791, Louis XVI asked for the transfer of the relics to Saint- Denis and his demand was satisfied. On March 10th, a hasty inventory was compiled indicating the presence of both the relic “of the holy shroud” and of “a holy face.” Both objects were to be moved on March 12,36 but after the king’s execution on January 21, 1793 plans changed significantly. On November 11 the relics were brought back to Paris and an inventory from November 18th includes the reliquary of the Mandylion, which is referred to as “a sliding box (à coulisse) containing a portrait,” enabling us to establish that it was similar to some typical Byzantine reliquaries, with a sliding lid, used especially for the staurothekes.37 This is the last recorded documentation of the Mandylion. The relics were dismantled and dispersed or sold. Some reliquaries were sent to a foundry

36 A. Vidier, “Le tresor de la Sainte-Chapelle,” cit., p. 325 (inventory CC): “Du saint suaire” and “Une sainte face.” 37 P. Lacroix, “Inventaires du trésor de l’abbaye de Saint-Denis,” Revue universelle des arts 4 (1856), p. 136; cf. A. Vidier, “Le tresor de la Sainte-Chapelle,” cit., p. 339: “Boite à coulisse contenant un portrait.” 202 Chapter 7 where they were melted down for bullion. Many of the relics that for almost a millennium were kept in the imperial palace of Constantinople and then the royal palace of Paris, were lost forever and no trace remained of the Mandyli- on.

Conclusions

The legend behind the story of the Mandylion of Edessa is derived from another, older Syriac legend, which began with an exchange of letters between King Abgar of Edessa and Jesus Christ. Slowly the content of the letter written by Jesus, together with its apotropaic function for the city, were transferred, as from the fifth century, onto an image that is not part of the earliest versions of the story. In the sixth century, the image itself, which was originally a colored picture of the face of Jesus, was transformed, especially in the Byzantine environment, into a miraculous imprint of Jesus’ face left on a cloth, but not everyone was aware of this evolution. Several exemplars of the image – per haps slightly individualized in the features shown – began to compete with one another for preeminence, and countless reproductions of each were produced, all sharing some key elements: the presence of the towel that showed only the face of a living Jesus. The legends that relate the transformation of the painting into an acheiropoieton are comparable, although they differ in some details. One of these Mandylion was moved to Constantinople in 944, where it remained until the Fourth Crusade. It was then sold to Louis IX of France and disappeared in the chaos of the French Revolution. We can somehow determine the size and the shape of the Constantinopolitan Mandylion thanks to two copies in Genoa and Rome. There is not a shred of evidence that the Mandylion of Edessa was a long shroud or that it showed the entire body of the crucified and wounded figure of Christ. Those who argue for the shared identity of the Shroud of Turin and the Mandylion of Edessa have based their arguments on evidence that cannot withstand close scrutiny. In order to argue for the authenticity of the Turinese relic, some have gone to great lengths. In so doing, they have approached the changing nature of the legends concerning this relic too simplistically. More- over, they have used evolving legends as if they were trustworthy historical sources, which is utterly unacceptable. It is clear that the ultimate aim of the theory that identifies the Shroud with the Mandylion is to demonstrate that the Shroud of Turin has existed and can be documented since antiquity. But the first historical documents that mention the Shroud date to the fourteenth century, and the date obtained by The End 203 radiocarbon dating places it between 1260 and 1390 CE.38 The history of the Shroud is the topic of my next book, but it is important to clarify that even if the Shroud was authentic and dated from the first century, it is a completely different object than the Edessean image. We can therefore end this analysis by quoting the 1786 opinion of the Mar- quis Giovanni de Serpos, in regard to the reliability of that “sweet illusion” and the “birth of a devout imagination” in the legend of Abgar: “Everything so far narrated must be counted as mere fable.”39

38 P.E. Damon et alii, “Radiocarbon Dating of the Shroud of Turin,” Nature 337 (1989), pp. 611–615. 39 G. de Serpos, Compendio storico di memorie cronologiche concernenti la religione e la morale della nazione Armena, vol. 1, Venice, Carlo Palese, 1786, pp. 155–156: “it is not, therefore, without regret that I here present you with those reasons, that some believe to be a sweet illusion; and my impartiality wants me to tell you why many critics deem to be a birth of a devout imagination both the abovementioned letters [of Abgar] and all that is said about them by many a writer. They say faithfully that everything so far narrated must be counted as mere fable.” 204 Chapter 7 Index of NamesIndex of names 205 Index of Names

Abgar v, king 1, 1n1–2, 5n12, 7, 8, 8n2–4, 9, Antonacci, Mark 14n21, 134, 134n28 9n10, 10, 12–15, 15n24, 15n26, 16, 17n34, Aragione, Gabriella Xn7 18n39, 19n43, 20, 21n49, 22, 23, 23n52–53, Arranz, Miguel 90n10 23n55, 24, 24n61–62, 25, 25n66, 26, 27, 29, Arrignon, Jean-Pierre 105n46 29n1, 30, 30n4, 31n6, 32, 33, 46n37, 48, 50, Arnold von Harff 194, 194n22 54–56, 56n9, 59, 69, 70, 73, 75, 82, 82n81, 83, Atchinson, Bob 148 83n85, 86, 86n96, 87, 88n99, 92, 93, 93n18, Athanasius bar Gumoyē 92, 93, 93n18 94, 95, 96, 100–102, 104, 105n45, 111n66, 113, Athena 79n74 116, 116n78, 126, 127, 127n18–19, 128, 130, 131, Attridge, Harold W. 10n12 136, 140, 152n57, 154n62, 155, 155n63, 156, Aubaruns 79n73 156n64, 157n65, 158, 158n70, 159, 160, Aufhauser, Johannes Baptist 118n84 161n74, 162n75, 165, 166, 169, 173, 174, 184, Augustine of Hippo 9, 9n8 185n116, 194, 202, 203, 203n39 Abraham 151n56 Bacci, Michele 52n56, 100n36, 119n88 Abraham, metropolitan 25 Bagrat iv, king 153 Abramios of Samosata 79 Baima Bollone, Pierluigi 3, 38n18, 51n55, Abū al-Faraj 96n26 66n36, 167, 168n89, 182n108 Abū al-Fidāʾ ʿAbdallāh al-Qādī 94n19 Baldacchini, Giuseppe 51n55 Adami, Esterino 176n98 Baldwin i of Constantinople 100, 188, 194 Addai 9, 9n10, 10n11, 10n13, 11–13, 19, 19n41, Baldwin i of Jerusalem 103 24, 25n64, 26, 29n2, 32, 91, 96 Baldwin ii of Constantinople 189, 190, 193 Adler, Ada 90n8 Baldwin Smith, Earl 99n34 Adrados, Francisco R. 45n31 Banks, Shelagh E. 114n72, 125n11 Adrianus i, pope 115n74 Baracchini, Clara 120n1 Agapius of Hierapolis Bambyce (Manbij) Barber, Charles 187n123 67n38, 91, 92n13 Barberis, Bruno 43n26, 149n52 Alciati, Roberto X Barbier de Meynard, Charles 92n14 Aleksidze, Zaza 162n75 Bardaisan 25 Alexios iii Angelos 106, 109 Barsaum, Aphram 23n58 Al-Masʿūdī 92, 92n14 Basil i, emperor 178, 198n100 Amerise, Marilena 15n24, 15n27 Basil of Jerusalem 47 Amir-Moezzi, Mohammad Ali 100n36 Batch, Heinrich 39n20 Amman, Albert M. 182n111 Bates Cogswell, Theodora 3n7 Ananias (or Ḥanān, Ḥannān) 8–10, 11n14, Bauer, Franz Alto 100n36 12, 13, 16, 20, 24, 30, 30n4, 31–33, 36, 55, 56, Bearman, Peri J. 90n7 69, 72, 82, 83, 92, 93, 93n18, 94, 96, 104, 130, Bekker, Immanuel 90n9, 97n27, 163n79 140, 155, 156 Belobrova, Olga Andreevna 105n46 Andrew of Crete 27, 27n71, 28, 51n33 Belting, Hans 1n2, 186, 186n119 Andrew, apostle 162 Benvenuti, Anna 29n2, 167n87 Angold, Michael 109n59 Bernabò, Massimo 146n46 Anonymous Mercati 102, 102n39 Bernhard, Ludger 85n90 Anonymous of Piacenza 33, 33n12 Bertelli, Carlo 1n2, 182n111 Anonymous of Tarragona 100, 101n37, 192 Bianquis, Thierry 90n7 Anthony of Novgorod: see Jadrejkovich, Bidez, Joseph 14n22 Dobrynja. Binns, James W. 114n72, 125n11

Blaise, saint 190 Centini, Massimo 3, 9n6, 14n21, 56n9, Blanrue, Paul-Éric 39n22 60n20, 167, 167n89 Blau, Yehoshua 111n65 Chabot, Jean-Baptiste 23n53, 23n57–59, Boccardo, Piero 183n11 93n18, 94n21, 95n23 Boniface of Montferrat 188 Chantraine, Pierre 45n31 Bonnet, Max 29n1, 30n3 Charlemagne 104 Bonnet-Eymard, Bruno 166 Charles the Bald 104 Borbone, Pier Giorgio 185n116 Chirin, Prokopij 171 Borkopp-Restle, Birgitt 29n1, 152n56 Chirivella Garrido, Javier 63n25 Borrassà, Lluís 158, 160 Chistjakov, Ivan Fedorovich 137 Bossina, Luciano X Chosroes, king 14, 16, 21, 23, 26, 49, 49n46, Branner, Robert 189n7 74, 79 Braun, Joseph 191n10 Chrysostomides, Julian 17, 18n35, 26n67, Breckenridge, James D. 179, 179n102–103, 48, 48n44 182n107 Chugreeva, Natal’ja N. 1n2 Brent, Peter 5n15 Ciccone, Gaetano 64, 64n29, 104n43, Brightman, Frank E. 14n21 196n29 Brock, Sebastian 3, 4n9, 10n12, 12, 12n16, Ciggaar, Krijnie N. 102n37, 103n39 19, 19n41 Clement, saint 190 Brooks, Ernest W. 2n3, 23n59, 93n15 Clotilde of Savoy, princess 142n37 Brunet, Ester 2n2, 18n37, 33n11, 60n19, Coero-Borga, Piero 39n21, 84n87, 177n99 114n73 Come, R. P. 39n21 Budge, Ernest Alfred 23n55 Comi, Francesco 184 Bulst, Werner 3, 37, 38n17, 40, 41, 41n23, Concioni, Graziano 120n1, 122n6, 123n7 45, 152 Congordeau, Marie-Hélène 118n85 Burckhardt, August 25n66 Constantine, son of Romanos i 97, 163 Constantine Dalassenos 165 Cabrol, Fernand 1n2 Constantine Phagitzes, eunuch 165 Calcagnino, Agostino 19, 19n40 Constantine Stilbes 104, 104n44, 105n45 Calderoni Masetti, Anna Rosa 15n26, Constantine the Great 8n2, 40, 41n24 33n10, 140n33, 146n46, 151n53, 156n64, Constantine vii Porphyrogennetos 66– 157n65–66, 157n68, 182n111, 189n6 68, 71, 71n56, 72, 72n60, 77, 79, 80, 84, 88, Calzolari Bouvier, Valentina 25n66 97–99, 130, 163 Cameron, Averil 1n2, 3, 3n8, 4n8, Coppini, Lamberto 20n44, 91n11, 173n94, 16n29–30, 18n35–36, 19, 19n41, 187n123 179n103 Canard, Marius 53n1 Cornini, Guido 185n115 Canetti, Luigi Xn7, 13n20, 98n32, 189n8 Cosmas Indicopleustes 142, 142n38, 143, Cantarella, Raffaele 85n90 143n40, 144 Cappelletti, Giuseppe 24n63 Cosmàs, monk 172n93 Cardini, Franco 4n9, 193n16 Cosmas, saint 95 Carile, Antonio Xn7, 188n2, 189n8 Coxe, Arthur C. 34n13 Carletti, Giuseppe 185n114 Cracco Ruggini, Lellia 9n5, 79n74 Carrière, Auguste 24n62 Christopher of Alessandria 47 Carson, Robert A. G. 175n97 Csocsán de Várallja, Eugene 179n103 Cattin, Giulio 85n90 Cutler, Anthony 179n101 Cavallo, Livio X Cavallo, Guglielmo 15n27 Dagron, Gilbert 182n106 Cavazzuti, Francesco 20n44, 91n11, Damon, Paul E. 203n38 173n94, 179n103 Daniel bar Moses of Tur Abdin 93n17 Index of Names 207

Daniel of Galaš 19, 20 Dufournet, Jean 111n62 Darius, comes 9, 9n8, 19 Dulaurier, Édouard 25n66 David, prophet 97 Dupont-Sommer, André 21n47 Dayvault, Philip E. 128, 128n20 Durand, Jannic 52n56, 99n34, 100n36, De Blois, Lukas 41n24 104n42, 189n7, 194n23, 195n25, 197, 197n31, De Boislisle, Arthur-Michel 196, 196n26 200n35 De Boor, Carl 18n35 Durando, Mario 6n15 De Mély, Fernand 158n69, 194n19 Dutra, Robert 47 De Montmorency, François 195, 196 De Riedmatten, Pierre 167n86 Eastmond, Anthony 33n10 De Serpos, Giovanni 203, 203n39 Ebersolt, Jean 99n35 Del Grande, Carlo 51n52 Egeria, pilgrim 8, 9, 9n6–7, 9n9, 19, 19n43 Delehaye, Hippolyte 53n3, 80n76, 81, Elias of Nisibis 93, 93n15 99n33 Emmerick, Anna Katharina 168n89, Dell’Acqua, Francesca 95n23 169n89 Della Valle, Mauro 146n46 Engberg, Sysse Gudrun 99n34 Dēmētrakos, Dēmētrios 45, 45n33, 89n3 Epiphanius the Monk 50, 50n51 Der Nersessian, Sirarpie 25n65, 157n65 Erbetta, Mario 10n12, 29n1 Desreumaux, Alain 5, 5n12, 9n10, 29n1 Ergodotes, eunuch 165 Devreesse, Robert 53n3 Ernout, Alfred 89n4 Di Fabio, Clario 183n11 Eulalios of Edessa 17, 49n46, 57 Di Lazzaro, Paolo 11n14, 51n55, 117n82 Eusebius of Caesarea 7, 7n1, 8, 8n2–3, 9, Dietz, Karlheinz 3, 30n4, 45, 45n32, 98n31 9n9, 10, 10n12, 11, 12n16, 15n25, 16, 18, 19, Diodorus of Tarsus 57n15 19n40–42, 40, 54, 67n38, 70, 70n51 Diomedes, martyr 85n91, 99 Evagrius Scholasticus 14, 14n22, 15, 15n25, Dionysius of Tell-Mah’rē 93n17 16–18, 18n37, 21n49, 26, 74 Dobschütz, Ernst von 1n2, 2n3, 16, 17n34, Evaristus, deacon 80 29n1–2, 50n51, 53n3, 67, 67n40, 68, 77, Evseeva, Lilija 1n2 80n76, 81n80, 82n82, 83n84–85, 84n86, Ezderios of Nabuk 162 85n91–92, 86n93, 86n95, 92, 99n33, 114n71, 115, 115n76, 118n86, 120n1, 158n69, 163n79 Fagiolo, Marcello 182n111 Dolabani, Hanna 20n45 Faller, Stefan 142n38 Donaldson, James 34n13 Fanti, Giulio 175n97, 180n103, 182n109 Donna d’Oldenico, Giovanni 5n10–11 Félibien, Michel 196, 196n26 Downey, Glanville 108n55–56 Fernández González, Etelvina 1n2 Drandakēs, Paulos 45, 45n34 Ferrari, Michele Camillo 120n1–2, 121n3, Dressel, Heinrich 175n97 122n5 Drews, Robert 3, 115n75, 125n11, 127n19 Fiey, Jean Maurice 95, 95n24 Drijvers, Han J. W. 10n11, 17, 18n35, 20, Filieri, Maria Teresa 120n1 20n46, 21, 21n49, 22n51, 95, 95n25 Filov, Bogdan D. 157n65 Dubarle, André-Marie 3, 4n9, 21, 21n48, Flury-Lemberg, Mechthild 43n27, 54, 54n5, 59n17, 60, 60n20, 61n21–22, 62, 44n29–30 62n24, 63, 63n27–28, 64, 67n38, 118, 118n87, Flusin, Bernard 3, 4n9, 52n56, 61, 61n22, 119, 126, 126n13, 126n15, 167, 167n89, 168n89 67, 67n40–41, 77, 79, 79n72, 99n34, 100n36, Du Bourguet, Pierre 3, 4n9 104n44 Duchesne, Louis 49n45 Fogliadini, Emanuela 2n2 Dufour Bozzo, Colette 15n26, 33n10, Follieri, Enrica 85n90 140n33, 146n46, 151n53, 156n64, 157n65–66, Fonkic, Boris L. 170n91 157n68, 182n111, 183n111, 189n6 Fossati, Gaspare 146, 146n48, 148n50–51 208 Index Of Names

Fossati, Giuseppe 146, 146n47–48, 61n21, 72n58, 74n65, 95, 95n24, 97, 97n28, 148n50–51 107n53, 167n85 Fossati, Luigi 5n10 Granger Ryan, William 127n18 Frale, Barbara 3, 21n48, 28, 28n72, 29n2, Green, Maurus 3, 112, 112n68 38n19, 67n38, 89n1, 98n31, 106, 106n48–49, Gregory bar-ʿEbrāyā (Bar-Hebraeus) 96, 107, 114n71, 126n17, 152, 162, 163n78, 166, 167, 96n26 170, 170n92, 171, 173, 185n115, 193n16 Gregory Nazianzen 57, 105n45 Franco, Carlo 140n36 Gregory Nyssen 57, 60, 105n45 Freeman, Charles 36n15, 47, 47n43 Gregory Referendarius 53, 54, 54n4–6, Friedberg, Arthur L. and Ira S. 175n98, 55n8, 56, 56n10–12, 57, 57n13, 58, 58n16–17, 178n100 59, 60, 60n20, 61, 61n21, 62, 62n24, 63, Frommel, Christoph Luitpold 112n67 63n27–28, 64, 64n30, 64n33, 65, 65n34, 66, Frugoni, Chiara 120n1, 125n12 68, 69, 99, 104, 163 Greisiger, Lutz 2n2 Gaeta, Saverio 115n75 Grelot, Guillaume-Joseph 146, 146n49, Garidis, Miltos 118n85 147, 148, 148n51 Garlaschelli, Luigi 11n14, 38n18 Grierson, Philip 175n96–97, 178n101, Garnier de Traînel 193, 194 179n102 Gelzer, Heinrich 25n66 Griffith, Sidney H. 9n10 Geoffroy de Villehardouin 109n60, 188 Grillmeier, Aloys 39n20 George Kedrenos 82n81, 90 Groote, Eberhard von 194n22 George Maniakes 29n1, 165 Grosdidier de Matons, José 72n61 George the Monk 18n35 Grumel, Venance 84n88 George, protovestiarios 169 Gualfredus, bishop 120,121 George, Philippe Xn7 Guðmundsson, Kristján 180 George, saint 117 Guerra, Giulio D. 124n9, 126n13 Gérard de Saint-Quentin-en-l’Isle 194 Guerreschi, Aldo, 44n29 Germanus of Constantinople 18n35 Guidi, Ignazio 23, 23n54, 23n56 Gerstel, Sharon E. J. 151n53 Guidi, Pietro 121n4 Gervase of Tilbury 112, 114, 114n72, 124, Guilland, Rodolphe 99n35 125, 125n10–11 Gukova, Sania 157n67 Geyer, Paul 33n12 Guscin, Mark 3, 6n15, 18, 18n39, 21, 21n48, Gharib, Georges 84n87, 131, 132n26 27n70, 32, 32n8, 62, 62n23, 63n25, 64n29, Ghiberti, Giuseppe 13n21 65n34, 66n38, 67, 67n38, 67n40, 68n43–44, Giacchetti, Giovanni 184n113, 185n114 69n45–46, 69n48–49, 70n52–54, 71n55, Giacobbo, Roberto 153n59 73n62, 73n64, 74n66, 77, 77n69, 79n71, Giardelli, Paolo 167n86 80n75–76, 81n80, 82n80, 84n88, 86, 86n96, Gibbon, Edward 16n31 87, 87n97, 88, 88n99, 105n45, 111n64, Giribet, Josep 160 118n86, 150, 167, 167n88, 186, 186n121, 187, Goldbacher, Alois 9n8 187n122–123, 192, 192n15, 193 González Núñez, Jacinto 9n10 Gould, Karen 194n20 Halkin, François 73n63 Gounelle, Rémi 187n123, 198n33 Hallensleben, Horst 29n1, 152n56 Goussen, Heinrich 21n47 Hamilton, Frederick J. 2n3 Grabar, André 21, 21n48, 135, 140, 140n34, Ḥanān or Ḥannān: see Ananias 145n42, 166n84, 181n105 Harrak, Amir 13n19 Gramaglia, Pier Angelo 5, 5n13, 9n6, Hase, Charles Benoît 14n21 13n21, 22n51, 23n55, 29n2, 46, 46n38, 61, Hata, Gōhei 10n12 Index of Names 209

Hawkins, Ernest J. W. 148, 148n51 John the Orphanotrophos 165 Hayton of Corycus 158n71 John v Palaiologos 183 Hediger, Christine 189n7 Jolivet-Lévy, Catherine 138, 150, 151, Heisenberg, August 107n50, 108n57, 151n53 109n58 Joseph of Arimathea 62, 103, 117n82, Henry of Hainaut 188 122–124, 136n29, 168n89, 169n89 Hesbert, René-Jean 194n20 Judas Thomas, apostle: see Thomas Hetherington, Paul 1n2 Julian the Apostate 40, 41 Hoare, Rodney 8n3 Jullien, Christelle and Florence 12n18 Hoffmann, Annette 99n35 Justinian i, emperor 51 Hoffmann, Volker 148n50 Justinian ii, emperor 175, 176, 178, 179, Høgel, Christian 68n42 179n102, 180n103, 181, 182, 182n107 Hourihane, Colum 154n62 Humber, Thomas 97n29 Karaulashvili, Irma 21, 21n49, 29n1, 154, Huygens, Robert B. C. 103n40 154n62, 155, 155n63, 161, 161n74, 162n75 Keller, Hans-Erich 89n4 Iannone, John C. 60n20, 107n51, 115n75 Kessler, Herbert L. 1n2, 10n11, 17n32, Ibn al-Atīr 94, 94n19 18n35, 136, 137n31, 140n33, 143, 144, 157n68 Illert, Martin 2n2, 8n4, 23n52–53, 46, Kitzinger, Ernst 17n34 46n37 Klein, Holger A. 100n36, 189n8 Innemée, Karel C. 130, 130n23 Kollyropoulou, Theōnē 85n90 Innocent iii, pope 109 Konstantinidi, Chara 118n85 Intrigillo, Gaetano 177n99 Kontouma, Vassa Xn7, 67n40, 187n123 Ionescu Berechet, Ştefan 2n2 Korneeva N. I. 4n9 Irenaeus of Lyons 116, 116n77 Kotter, Bonifatius 26n68, 27n69 Isaac 117, 151n56 Kratchkovsky, Ignace 93n16 Krause, Karin 189n6 Jackson, John P. 40, 42, 42n25 Krauss, Samuel 90n5 Jacob of Sarug 19, 20, 22 Kriaras, Emmanouēl 89n3 Jacobus de Voragine 127, 127n18 Krivko, Roman 85n89 Jadrejkovich, Dobrynja 105, 105n46–47, Kuryluk, Ewa 3, 4n9 193 Janin, Raymond 99n35 Laboubnia 24n61 Jastrow, Marcus 90n5 Lacroix, Paul 201n37 Jeffreys, Elizabeth M. 1n2 Laffitte, Marie-Pierre 104n42, 189n7, Job of Antioch 47 194n23, 195n25, 197, 197n31, 200n35 John Axouch Komnenos 106, 107n50 Lampe, Geoffrey W.H. 105n45 John Chrysostom 118n85 Le Prévost, Auguste 126n14 John Climacus 139, 140n33 Lebon, Joseph 39n20 John Damascene 26, 26n68, 27, 27n69 Leboinus (Leobinus) 120, 121n3–4, 122, John Kourkouas 53 123n7 John of Nikiû 79n73 Leclercq, Henri 1n2 John V Palaiologos 183 Lee, Charmaine 95n23 John Skylitzes 46n38, 102n38, 162, Leo of Chalcedon 84, 84n88 164n80–81, 165, 165n82, 167n86, 168, 169, Leo the Deacon 14n21 169n90 Leo the Grammarian 163n79 John the Baptist 184, 190, 195, 197, 200 Lequeux, Xavier 64n29, 187n123 John the Lydian 90, 90n9 Leynen, Hilda 4n9 210 Index Of Names

Licinia Eudoxia, empress 175n97 McVey, Kathleen E. 21, 21n47, 21n49 Lidov, Alexei M. 1n2, 15n26, 99n35, Meacham, William 4n8, 14n21, 175n95 100n36, 105n46, 111, 112n67, 156n64, 157n66 Meillet, Antoine 89n4 Liebrecht, Felix 125n10 Melero Moneo, María Luisa 1n2 Lingua, Graziano 17n33 Melioranskij, Boris Mihajlovich 27n70 Lipsius, Richard Adelbert 1n2, 29n1, 30n3 Mengozzi, Alessandro Xn6, 20n45, 21n47 Loconsole, Michele 50n47 Menna, Maria Raffaella 140n33 Lombatti, Antonio 24n60, 26n67, 103n39, Mercati, Silvio Giuseppe 102, 102n39, 113n70, 115n76, 158n69 103n39 Loos, Cornelius 146, 148, 148n51 Mergiali-Sahas, Sophia 189n8 Louis ix, king 189, 190, 191, 192, 194, 202 Meschini, Marco 109n59 Louis xvi, king 199, 201 Meshherskaja, Elena Nikitichna 1n2 Lutzka, Carolina 85n89 Meyer, Andreas 120n1, 122n5 Luzzi, Andrea 81n77 Michael iii, emperor 176 Michael iv, emperor 102, 102n38, 165n82, MacDonald, George 175n97 169n90 Madonna, Maria Luisa 182n111 Michael, archangel 132, 133 Maetzke, Anna Maria 122n5 Michael Glycas 157, 158 Magdalino, Paul 100, 100n36 Michael the Paphlagonian, emperor 164 Maggini, Giuliana 122n5 Michael the Syrian 67n38, 93, 93n17 Magnus 9 Michelis, Thomas 85n90 Maguire, Henry 99n35 Migne, Jacques Paul 28n71, 50n51, 51n53 Maḥbūb ibn-Quṣṭanṭīn al-Manbijī: see Milazzo, Mario 183n112 Agapius of Hierapolis Miranda, Salvador 99n35 Majeska, George P. 105n46 Mirkovic, Alexander 8n2 Malfi, Pierandrea 175n97, 180n103 Monaci Castagno, Adele IXn2, X, 9n5, Maltese, Enrico Valdo 48, 48n44 17n33, 18n37, 67n40, 98n32, 198n33 Malxasean, Step’an 25n66 Monferrer-Sala, Juan Pedro 111n66, 116n78 Mango, Cyril 148, 148n51 Montaldo, Leonardo 183 Manservigi, Flavia 182n110 Montesano, Marina 193n16 Manton, Lennox 151, 151n54 Monti, Alessandro 176n98 Maraval, Pierre 9n7 Morand, Sauveur-Jérôme 191n9, 194n21, Mar Mari 4n9, 12, 12n18–19, 13n19, 16, 18, 199, 200, 200n35, 201 26, 27, 94, 96 Morello, Giovanni 1n2, 120n1, 145n42, Marcian, emperor 175n97 158n70, 182n111 Marinelli, Emanuela 3, 9n9, 14n21, 21n48, Morgan, Rex 149n52 24n60, 60n20, 63n26, 66n38, 67n38, 81n80, Morisson, Cécile 175n97 82n83, 115n75, 124n9, 146n44, 173n94 Moroni, Mario 19n44, 152, 152n58, 176, Martin, Jean Pierre Paulin 22n52 177, 177n99, 178, 179, 179n103, 182n108 Marzials, Frank T. 109n60, 188n3 Morosini, Roberta 95n23 Matilda 185, 185n115, 186 Moses 190 Mary Magdalene 122 Moses of Chorene 24, 24n60, 24n62–63, Mary of James 122 25 Mary, mother of Jesus 96, 102, 122, 124, Munitiz, Joseph A. 18n35, 49n45–46, 151n56, 172, 189, 190 50n49 Mays, Melinda 175n97 Muttaqī, caliph 94 Mazzucchi, Carlo Maria 71n57, 107, Müller, Willi K. 166n83 107n54 McCrone, Walter 11n14 Nada Patrone, Anna Maria 109n61 Index of Names 211

Nau, François 19n44 Pirone, Bartolomeo 93n16 Navarro, Julia 6n15 Plank, Peter 85n89 Nicholas Mesarites 106, 107, 108, Poggi, Vincenzo Xn7 108n55–57, 109, 109n58, 193 Polidori, Valerio Xn7, 59n17 Nickell, Joe 11n14, 38n18 Poncelet, Albert 185n117 Nicodemus, pharisee 120–125 Poulle, Emmanuel 4n10, 65, 65n35, Nicodemus the Hagiorite 46 112n70, 126, 126n16, 189n7, 195n25 Nicolotti, Andrea IXn2–5, 2n2, 3n6, Procopius of Caesarea 16, 16n29–30, 65n35, 111n63, 189n5 74n65 Nikephoros ii Phokas, emperor 25, 73, Proiou, Alkistis 85n89 73n63 Pseudo-Athanasius 120 Noble, Peter 110n61 Pseudo-George of Cyprus 27, 27n70, 94 Noret, Jacques 81n78 Pseudo-John Damascene 50, 50n49–50 Numa Pompilius 8, 79n74 Pseudo-Joshua the Stylite 23, 23n53 Pseudo-Simeon 97, 97n27 Olinder, Gunnar 22n52 Pseudo-Zacharias of Mytilene 2n3 Orderic Vitalis 112, 126, 126n14 Pulcheria, empress 175n97 Origen 105n45 Otto iv of Brunswick, emperor 125 Rabban Sauma 185n116 Oxley, Mark 60n20 Raffard de Brienne, Daniel 3 Ragusa, Isa 158n69–70 Palmer, Andrew N. Xn7, 2n2, 5, 5n14, Rainò, Beniamino 53n3 16n30, 19, 19n44, 20, 20n45, 21, 21n47–48, Rambaud, Alfred 67n39 29, 29n2, 30n3, 46, 46n40, 47n41, 74n65 Ramelli, Ilaria 3, 4n9, 10n13, 11, 11n15, 12, Panteleimon, saint 138, 139 12n17–18, 18, 18n39, 19n43, 24, 25, 25n64, 56, Papaēliopoulou-Phōtopoulou, 56n10, 64, 64n31, 67n38, 69, 69n47, 86, Elenē 85n89 86n94, 115n75, 167, 167n87 Paramelle, Joseph 54 Rammelt, Claudia 2n2 Parmentier, Léon 14n22 Reiske, Johann Jacob 72n58 Patlagean, Évelyne 53n1, 67n41 Remondini, Pier Costantino 82n81 Paul, apostle 49 Repice, Domenico 107n50 Paul the Younger, saint 98, 98n33, 99, 185 Riant, Paul 103n41, 104n42, 191n9, 192, Payne Smith, Robert 90n6 192n11–12, 193 Peers, Glenn 157n65 Ricci, Giulio 4n10, 51n54 Pennacchietti, Fabrizio Angelo 176n98 Ricciotti, Giuseppe 142n38 Peppermüller, Rolf 19n41 Rinaldi, Gian Marco 44n28, 106, 106n49 Peter, apostle 87n98, 185n115–116, 198 Ritz, Joseph M. 120n1, 121n3 Peterson, Erik X Robert De Clari IX, IXn4, 65n35, 109, Petrosillo, Orazio 66n38 109n61, 110, 110n62, 111, 111n62–64, 188n4, Pezzi, Valeria 121 192, 193 Pfeiffer, Heinrich 3, 37, 38n17, 40, 41, Roberts, Alexander 34n13, 116n77 41n23, 45, 149n52, 173n94, 179n103 Rodante, Sebastiano 54n4 Phidias 179 Rodríguez Almenar, Jorge Manuel 63n25 Phillips, George 10n11 Rolfe, David 5n15 Photios, patriarch 97 Romanos i Lekapenos, emperor 53, 97, Piana, Alessandro 47n42, 167, 167n87 99, 99n34, 163, 164, 164n80, 167n87, 168n89 Pieri, Francesco Xn7 Romanos iii Argyros, emperor 29n1, 164, Pierre d’Amiens 109 166 Pilate 123 Romanos the Melodist 72, 72n61 212 Index Of Names

Rosenthal, Franz 90n7 Stewart, Aubrey 34n12 Rossi, Alessandro Xn7 Stori, Eliana 13n19 Rozzonelli, Carole 176n98 Stornajolo, Cosimo 143n40 Runciman, Steven 1n2, 3, 4n9, 16n28, 18, Sturmann Ciccone, Carmela 64, 64n29, 18n39, 97, 98n30 104n43, 196n29 Russi, Angelo 4n21, 24n60, 63n26, 124n9 Su-Min Ri, Andreas 23n55 Sxirt’laʒe, Zaza 128n21–22 Salcito, Michele 44n29 Symeon the Metaphrast 66n38, 68, Ṣālḥānī, Anṭūn 96n26 68n42 Salome 122, 123n7 Sartori, Orietta 183n11, 186n118 Taft, Robert F. 81n79, 118n85 Savigni, Raffaele 120n1, 122n5 Tanazacq, François 39n21 Savio, Pietro 51n55, 114n71, 120n2, 122n6, Tardieu, Michel 12n18 123, 123n7–8 Tatian the Assyrian 10n13, 47 Savvaitov, Pavel 105n47 Tehirin, Prokop 170, 171 Sayles, Wayne G. 179n102 Ternant, Paul 57n15 Scavone, Daniel C. 3, 11n14, 13n21, 57n14, Teteriatnikov, Natalia B. 146n48 59n18, 98n31, 117, 117n82, 118, 126n17, Thaddaeus, apostle 8, 29, 30, 30n3, 31n6, 136n29, 186, 186n120, 188n1 32, 32n7, 33n9, 34, 35n14, 36, 46, 48, 50, 55, Scheid, John 100n36 56, 62, 69, 70, 82, 83, 85, 103, 104 Schilbach, Erich 51n52 Theodoret of Cyrrhus 105n45 Schirò, Giuseppe 84n88, 85n89 Theodosius ii 175n97 Schnürer, Gustav 120n1, 121n3 Theodosios of Urhai 162 Schwartz, Eduard 7n1, 8, 8n2 Theophanes, cubicularius 163, 163n79, Sear, David R. 175n98, 178n100, 181n104 164, 165 Segal, Judah Benzion 1Seleucius 120, Theophanes Continuatus 97n27, 163n79 121 Theophilos, emperor 18n35, 47, 50, 50n48 Sergios, monk 97, 98 Theophylact, patriarch 163 Sibṭ, ibn al-Jawzī 94 Thierry, Nichole 151n55 Siliato, Maria Grazia 3, 10n13, 19n43, 53n2, Thomas, apostle 8, 25, 55, 62 64, 64n32, 91n12, 116, 116n80, 131n24–25, Thomson, Robert W. 18n38, 24n60, 24n62 135, 136n29, 162n77, 167, 168n89, 196n25 Thumb, Albert 46n36 Simeon, saint 190 Thümmel, Hans Georg 50n48 Simonetti, Manlio 57n15 Thurn, Hans 164n80 Singor, Henk W. 41n24 Tiberius, emperor 93n18, 198n33 Sirinian, Anna Xn6, 24n62–63, 25n66 Tischendorf, Constantinus 30n3 Skemer, Don C. 15n26 Tixeront, Louis Joseph 1n2 Skhirtladze: see Sxirt’laʒe. Todeschino, Giovanni 194, 195 Solaro de Moretta, Agaffino 1n1 Toomaspoeg, Kristjan Xn7 Sox, H. David 4n9–10, 139n32 Topchyan, Aram 24n60 Stazio, Attilio 51n52 Tornielli, Andrea 29n2, 66n37 Stefan Aref’ev 171,172 Tosatti, Marco 167, 167n87 Steiger, Arnald 89n4 Traina, Giusto 24n60 Stephen, son of Romanos i 97, 163 Trapp, Erich 89n3 Stephen iii, pope 112, 114, 114n73, 115, Tribbe, Frank C. 115n75 115n75 Trilling, James 17n32 Stephen of Tarōn 25 Trombley, Frank R. 23n53 Stevenson, Kenneth 3n5 Tsamakda, Vasiliki 164, 164n81, 170, 170n91 Index of Names 213

Tubach, Jürgen 2n2 Whittemore, Thomas 146 Wiegand, Theodor 99n33 ʿUmar ibn al-Khat,t,āb, caliph 53 Wilcox, Robert K. 112n69 Upinsky, Arnaud-Aaron 42n25, 113n70 Wilson, Ian 2, 2n4, 3, 3n5, 3n8, 4n8–10, 5, Uthal, king 140, 141 5n12, 5n15, 14n21, 34–36, 37n16, 44, 53n3, Uzielli, Gustavo 52n57 74, 75, 75n67, 76, 76n68, 91n11, 98n31, 112, 112n69, 127n19, 128, 128n20, 135, 135n28, 136, Vaccari, Alberto 57n15 137, 137n31, 139n32, 140, 140n35, 141, 142, Valentini, Eugenio 126n13 142n37, 146, 146n43, 146n45, 153, 154, Valentinian iii, emperor 175n97 154n61, 155, 160, 161, 161n73–74, 167n87, Van Haelst, Remi 82n81, 167, 168n89 175n95, 178, 182n108, 187, 192, 192n14, 193, Van Rompay, Lucas 130n23 193n17 Vári, Rudolf 71n56 Wolf, Gerhard 1n2, 3, 4n9, 10n11, 15n26, Vasiliev, Aleksandr A. 53n1, 92n13, 93n16, 17n32, 18n35, 33n10, 99n35, 112n67, 120n1, 94n20 140n33, 145n42, 146n46, 151n53, 156n64, Vassiliev 145 157n65–66, 157n68, 158n70, 182n111, 183n112, Vauchez, André 53n1 189n6 Velmans, Tania 128n21, 151n56 Wolf, Hieronymus 176n98 Vercelli, Piero 44n28 Wortley, John 170n190 Veronica 1, 1n1–2, 4n9, 13n20, 125, 132, Wuensch, Richard 90n9 167n86, 193, 196, 198 Vespignani, Giorgio Xn7, 189n8 Yaḥyā ibn Saʿīd al-Anṭākī 93, 93n16 Vetranio 41 Vidier, Alexandre 195n24, 196n28, 196n30, Zacà, Stefano 51n55 198n32, 201n36–37 Zaccone, Gian Maria 43n26, 140n36, Vignon, Paul 107, 107n52 149n52 Volbach, Wolfgang Fritz 134n27 Zaninotto, Gino 3, 31n5, 53, 53n3, 54, Votta, Claudio 35, 136 54n4, 59n17, 60, 60n20, 63, 63n26, 64, 64n30, 107n50, 112n70, 116, 116n79, 117, Walde, Alois 89n4 117n81, 167n86 Walter, Christopher 29n1 Zedazneli, Ioane 162n75 Watt, John W. 23n53 Zhakarova, Anna 156n64 Weitzmann, Kurt 130n24 Zingoni, Marzia 120n1, 122n5 Whanger, Alan and Mary 8n3, 179n103, Zocca, Emma 170n92 180n103 Zomeño, Amalia 111n66, 116n78 Whitby, Michael 14n23, 18, 18n37, 21, Zotenberg, Hermann 79n73 21n49