The Dura-Europos House Church As Christian Place and Christian Initiation Centre

University of Calgary PRISM: University of Calgary's Digital Repository

Graduate Studies The Vault: Electronic Theses and Dissertations

2019-09-19 House, Church, or Neither? The Dura-Europos House Church as Christian Place and Christian Initiation Centre

Christian, Rebecca Isabel

Christian, R. I. (2019). House, Church, or Neither? The Dura-Europos House Church as Christian Place and Christian Initiation Centre (Unpublished master's thesis). University of Calgary, Calgary, AB. http://hdl.handle.net/1880/111045 master thesis

University of Calgary graduate students retain copyright ownership and moral rights for their thesis. You may use this material in any way that is permitted by the Copyright Act or through licensing that has been assigned to the document. For uses that are not allowable under copyright legislation or licensing, you are required to seek permission. Downloaded from PRISM: https://prism.ucalgary.ca UNIVERSITY OF CALGARY

House, Church, or Neither? The Dura-Europos House Church as Christian Place and Christian

Initiation Centre

Rebecca Isabel Christian

A THESIS

SUBMITTED TO THE FACULTY OF GRADUATE STUDIES

IN PARTIAL FULFILMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE

DEGREE OF MASTERS OF ARTS

GRADUATE PROGRAM IN RELIGIOUS STUDIES

CALGARY, ALBERTA

SEPTEMBER, 2019

PREFACE:

This thesis is original, unpublished, independent work by the author, R. I. Christian.

ABSTRACT:

Dura-Europos, an ancient city profoundly damaged in the 2011 Syrian Civil War, is the site of one of the earliest Christian buildings on record. Abandoned during a city siege in 256 CE, the Dura-Europos House Church (as it is known) remained remarkably well-preserved until its discovery in 1927. The House Church stands as indispensable physical evidence of the ritualistic activity of one early Christian community. The excavated Baptistery, in particular, provides insight into the way baptism was conducted at this early point in Christian development. This project examines the Dura-Europos House Church as a matrix for the creation of a particular early type of Christian identity. This sort of analysis is predicted on two assumptions. The first is that the Durene Christian community was deeply conditioned by their situation in a Roman-Syrian garrison town. The second is that the building was primarily used by Christians in order to ritually baptize new members into the community. The House Church functioned as a key, identifiable place for Durene Christians; it was mobilized, through ritual behaviour, to define Christians as a particular community associated with the Christian symbolism, minutiae and tropes found within the space. The building, therefore, is analyzed primarily through ritual and place studies, augmented with cognitive science of religion where appropriate. Its materiality is interpreted through early, geographically appropriate, and ritually- centric sacred texts. Findings from this sort of analysis suggest that Durene Christians defined their religious exclusivity through their place-making. Their baptismal ritual brings an initiate from an open outside world into a sealed, enclosed, heavily purified place. Christian identity, as instilled through this ritual, was similarly defined as purified, healed, and bound to a specific type of insider place. The findings of this analysis outline one way new religious identities were acquired in the late Roman Empire, and outline key identity-markers of Christianity during its early development.

iii

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: It is a cliché to say that it takes a village to raise a child; it is probably equally clichéd to note that it takes a community, equal or greater in size to a University’s Graduate Studies Department, to birth a thesis. In my case, this cliché is nevertheless true. This project is, above all, indebted to the tireless work, unceasing patience, and intellectual power of my supervisor, Dr. Anne Moore. Without her attention, her empathy, and her exacting eye in reading the archeological record, this work would be half its length; it would also be an unreadable train- wreck. I would like to thank Dr. Moore for her expert supervision; I can’t extend sufficient gratitude for her enthusiasm for my half-baked ideas, her super-human proofreading, and her endless support. I would like, particularly, to thank her for sending me to New Haven, to allow me to experience the site I address in this work. It is an honour to have been her graduate student. I would also like to the Department of Classics and Religion at the University of Calgary for their care and support. Particular gratitude is extended to Rachel Blake for her expert administrative guidance and assurance. I wish to thank Professors James Hume and Reyes Bertolin Cebrian for guiding me through the Greek language, shaping me from an undergrad terrified of the Classics into a slightly-less-terrified grad student armed with Athenaze and a new-found appreciation for Herodotus. I would also like to acknowledge Professor Craig Ginn; assisting in Dr. Ginn’s courses made me a stronger teacher and student. Special thanks must also be given to Dr. Lindsay Driedeger-Murphy and Dr. Joy Palacios for their considered and enriching comments on this project, and for their stimulating conversation during the defense process. Academic life would be a terribly lonely experience without the exchange of ideas between students. In this regard, I would like to state my appreciation for Ryan Mikalson and Dhanya Baird for their support, encouragement, and academic know-how. I would like to extend thanks to curator Lisa Brody for meeting with me and guiding me through Dura exhibit at Yale University Art Gallery, and to Dr. Stephen Davis for taking the time to meet with me about this research. Special thanks must also be given to the support staff at the Gallery itself; a visiting student could not ask for a more welcoming, open, and informative group of people. Finally, this project could not have been completed without the continued love and support from my family. To Blair Jarvis and Debra Hauer- thank you for your first-hand knowledge of the graduate process, your advice, and your belief in me. To my parents- I could never have completed this work without your love, care, and fierce support. Dad, thank you for never letting me give up on this dream (even if it took the threat of a fatwa to dissuade me from law school). Mom, eres mi inspiración, y mi fortaleza. Gracias por todo. And to my partner, Bryan Jarvis- thank you for being my rock and my laughter. It is not easy to keep someone smiling through several years of reviewing archeological blueprints. It is even more difficult to do so while talking to said student about said archeological reports. You deserve the world. Toda raba.

To my grandparents.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

PREFACE ii

ABSTRACT iii

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS iv

DEDICATION v

TABLE OF CONTENTS vi

CHAPTER 1: THE DISCOVERY OF THE FIRST CHRISTIAN PLACE- LITERATURE REVIEW 1

CHAPTER 2: NEW THEORIES AND METHODOLOGIES 32

CHAPTER 3: LOCATION, LOCALE, AND SENSE OF PLACE 68

CHAPTER 4: THE HOUSE CHURCH AS INITIATION PLACE 102

CHAPTER 5: THE BAPTISTERY AND RITUALIZED IDENTITY 135

CHAPTER 6: CONCLUSIONS AND IMPLICATIONS FOR FURTHER RESEARCH 195

BIBLIOGRAPHY 209

APPENDICES 218

CHAPTER 1: The Discovery of the First Christian Place-Literature Review

Preamble:

The looting and destruction at the UNESCO Heritage Site of Palmyra by ISIS in 2011 captured the world-wide media. However, this is only one of several archaeological sites that have been seriously damaged due to the Syrian Civil War and the battle with ISIS. The site of

Dura-Europos is another such site that has been lost. Its destruction marks a particular loss for the scholars of Roman antiquity. Located in modern Syria, the ruins of Dura-Europos were first explored by British Indian troops in the aftermath of World War I. When wall-paintings were discovered in the area’s extant trenches, an American archeological team, under the supervision of James Breasted, were brought to the site. Excavations carried out through the 1920s and 1930s revealed a bustling Roman garrison city complete with a synagogue, Christian House Church,

Mithraeum, Temples, and an abundance of Roman garrison paraphernalia (notably armour and arms). In particular, due to the decision to strengthen defensive walls during the 256 CE Sassanid siege and the subsequent abandonment of the site1 following the defeat of the city, many of the high quality frescoes of the synagogue, House Church and Mithraeum were wonderfully preserved. Fortunately, the archaeological excavations under American archeologist Clark

Hopkins in 1932, and the interpretations proposed by Henry Pearson in 1933, were fully published in The Excavations at Dura-Europos, Volumes I through VIII, edited by Carl

Kraeling. In addition, the baptistery’s wall frescoes of the house church were removed and are currently on exhibit at the Yale University. The excavation reports, and the extant frescoes, provide insight into the society and culture of cosmopolitan Eastern Roman cities of late

1 The site will herein referred to as “Dura” unless the hyphenated name is otherwise noteworthy. 1 antiquity. The extant frescoes, archaeological finds, excavation reports and subsequent analyses provide insight into the society, religions and cultures of cosmopolitan Eastern cities of late antiquity and, in particular, the area of Syria.

The synagogue, Mithraeum and the Christian building provide insights into the changing religiosity of late antiquity. The Christian house Church excavated here is one of the oldest on record, and provides evidence for some of the earliest Christian communal organization and ritual performance. In addition to being the one of the oldest physical sites for Christian activity, meeting, and ritual behaviour, it provides insight into Christianity’s interaction with the diverse religious matrix of the Roman Empire and its evolution towards a distinctive identity.

The discovery of Christian art at Dura-Europos shaped the greater trajectory of scholarship around the Durene Christians. This art has been analyzed as the main indicator of the identity of Durene Christians. Because of its symbolic content of the art, such analysis is conducted in a theological framework, one that does not take the ritual concerns of the space into account; such a framework can only comment of the theological identity of the Christian community, rather than their practice or relationship with the overall city and Roman Empire.

The Baptistery is treated as a gallery of various Christian images- images that resonate with the formative theologies of the time, but are nevertheless divorced from the place and the ritual that occurs within it. In a sense, both the “body” of the baptized, and the overall space of the baptistery and House Church is obscured.

This project attempts to invert this standard approach to ritual, archeology and art, by considering ritual first, and addressing how art and materiality would be meaningful in a ritual context. Durene Christian baptism is the main topic of this project. I will argue that Roman Dura was a major centre for a particular type of ritualistic activity, namely religious initiation, and that

2 this type of ritualistic activity was explored by a diverse set of communities. The Durene

Christians operated within this trajectory. The Durene House Church will be analyzed through the lens of initiation. This “Christian place,” is intimately connected to the Christian identity acquired within it. Rather than examining the place as representative of a school of Christian doctrine, I will analyze how the relationship between ritual, place, and the mobile body contributed to the formation of Christian communal features.

I will argue that the ritualized performance of baptism, in keeping with the standards of personal identity in Late Antiquity, was as much a creator of communal identity and Christian social network as an individual initiation procedure. I speak frequently of baptism as a means for identity transformation and identity acquisition, but I want to make clear that identity acquisition is a more layered process. Identity modes overlap; identity is not radically transformed. Christian initiation at this period in development is more of re-orientation of bodies into new places and into new habits, and reprioritization of certain identity features. In order to holistically assess

Durene Christian identity, this project will address categories of place, ritual and identity, and, in doing so, rely on a meeting of disciplines. An interdisciplinary approach to this key House

Church, with a focus on embodied ritual in place, seems best poised to shed light on the formation of this crucial example of early Christian identity.

“The Pompeii of the desert…”: A Brief History of Dura-Europos

J.B. Baird, in The Inner Lives of Ancient Houses, notes that scientific director Michael

Rostovtzeff, overseeing the Dura excavations, excitedly described the city as “the Pompeii of the desert.” She also notes that this statement was ridiculed as soon as archeological reports were

published.2 Dura certainly was, as fellow archeological director J. W. Crowfoot stated, “grim”

in comparison with the classical wonders of Pompeii.3 The unpleasing aesthetics of Dura bely

enormously important findings uncovered from the site. Pretty or not, Dura has become a major

area of investigation for scholars of Roman life in Late Antiquity. “Dura,” a Semitic term

translating roughly to “fortress,” (and meaning “coarse” in contemporary Arabic) is an evocative

name to the modern listener. Its very etymology conjures ideas of “toughness,” or “durability.”4

It is an apt name for the city, a city enduringly characterized as a rough-and-ready “frontier”

town, on the fringes of Roman civilization. Photos of the excavated ancient city, when contrasted

with the visually splendid ancient city-scape of Palmyra, show it to be a drab place, more baked

mud than gleaming marble. Lisa Brody, commenting on the Yale exhibit of the Durene

materials, suggests that the reality of Dura has continuously challenged popular assumptions

about the ancient world.5 Pompeii more-or-less confirms to popular expectations about the way

an ancient metropolis should look; Dura, on the other hand, does not easily conform to the model

of either Hellenized or Roman city.6 Dura, while desolate in appearance, yielded tangible

evidence of a population with infinitely greater complexity.

Excavation history:

2 J. B. Baird, The Inner Lives of Ancient Houses: An Archaeology of Dura-Europos (New York: Oxford University Press, 2014), 6. 3 Baird, The Inner Lives of Ancient Houses, 7. 4 Baird, The Inner Lives of Ancient Houses, 4. 5 Lisa R. Brody and Gail L. Hoffman, Dura-Europos: Crossroads to Antiquity (Boston: McMullen Museum of Art. 2011), xxiii. 6 Brody and Hoffman, Dura-Europos: Crossroads to Antiquity, 23-26. 4

In 1920, Indian-British soldiers, exploring ruins of the Syrian Desert in the wake of the

Arab Wars, stumbled upon the remarkably well-preserved frescoes of the Durene synagogue.

Alerting American archeologist James Breasted, an American-French excavation mission was launched. The site was uncovered in two major excavation periods, the first overseen by Franz

Cumont until 1926, with the second being nominally lead by Michael Rostovtzeff. This second excavation period continued until 1936, interrupted by political issues and financial difficulties.7

Maurice Pillet and, later, Clark Hopkins and Frank Brown oversaw the bulk of the fieldwork of

Dura-Europos. Rostovtzeff regularly complained about Pillet’s lack of detail in reports during the first seasons of excavations; the Christian House Church, for our purposes, was overseen by

Hopkins, and archeological reports of its excavations are notably more detailed.8 The wall frescoes uncovered from religious buildings at the Northwest point of the city were the primary interest of excavating teams and their respective academies. Baird writes that entire walls of buildings were occasionally demolished at Dura, in order to safely remove and preserve the valued art within the building. She voices concerns that the excavations were conducted, as was typical of the period, as “treasure hunts,” rather than employing the careful practices of later conservative archeology.9 Domiciles in Dura-Europos were viewed as potential store houses for pottery, art, and papyri, and the priority was to uncover these materials rather than preserve the houses in as complete condition as possible.10 Baird also notes that the excavations of domiciles and buildings were conducted as quickly as possible, and were not extensively noted in the reports. Under Pillet’s early direction, buildings were cleared indiscriminately in the pursuit of

7 Baird, The Inner Lives of Ancient Houses, 4-6. 8 Baird, The Inner Lives of Ancient Houses, 4-6. 9 Baird, The Inner Lives of Ancient Houses, 4-6. 10 Baird, The Inner Lives of Ancient Houses, 14-15.

5 art, or important moveable objects.11 A new generation of Durene scholarship must be cautious when theorizing about the material culture of the overall area, as the critical minutiae of houses and other buildings has not been consistently recorded.

The Christian House Church itself was discovered in 1932, and excavations continued on the site until 1933; reports were finalized in 1934. It was the discovery of the wall fresco on the upper register of the North wall (which showed when, excavating the Main Gate of the city,a dirt-covered piece of plaster was cleaned to reveal “5 people in a boat—2 standing below, one on a bed on the shore. Above, a god on a cloud,”)12 that alerted Hopkins to the presence of a

Christian building at Excavation Block M8, directly south of the Main Wall of Dura-Europos.13

The excavations of the Christian House Church at Dura were led by Michel Bacquet under

Hopkins’ supervision. Bacquet’s excavations were reported by Henry Pearson; it is Pearson’s report that functions as a major primary source for Durene scholarship in the fifties and sixties.

Despite Pearson’s background as an architect, rather than an archeologist, his report was remarkably detailed and accurate, especially compared to the overall Preliminary Report of the excavated city, published by Michael Rostovtzeff.14

It is fortunate that the excavation reports are as extensively detailed as they are; the primary materials recovered from the initial excavation are of highly variant quality. The original materials were brought to Yale University only minimally restored, in order to avoid altering condition of the frescoes, any degradations and damages being seen as historically relevant when dating the city. This non-interventionist approach is, to this day, the preferred preservation

11 Baird, The Inner Lives of Ancient Houses, 16. 12 Baird, The Inner Lives of Ancient Houses, 16. 13 Baird, The Inner Lives of Ancient Houses, 4. 14 Baird, The Inner Lives of Ancient Houses, 7.

practice of Yale University.15 However, the wall frescoes from Dura rapidly degraded, especially

with regards to colour. The exhibition was removed, minimally restored, and newly displayed,

but a great degree of the original colouration of the Baptistery frescoes has been irretrievably

lost.16

The preliminary report often makes mention of materials of the house church that are no

longer extant. For example, though pieces of the frescoes from the Eastern wall of the Baptistery

were restored and preserved, the vast majority of the excavated wall was misplaced or damaged

after being originally recovered.17 Though Kraeling mentions evidence of a paradise scene

depicted on the eastern wall, this fresco is no longer available and any attempts to “reconstruct”

the Baptistery are subject to significant interpretation; a total reconstruction of the building is

physically impossible. It is for this reason the current exhibit of the frescoes at Yale University

Art Gallery are arranged as an art/museum exhibit, rather than a reconstruction of the ritual

space.18 In order to accommodate the diversity of Dura, and to provide an expansive view of key

“types” of Roman art, each exhibit has a limited selection of artifacts on display.19 Only the best

restored wall frescoes of Christian House Church, photographed for this project, are available for

public viewing. Certain features of the House Church remain in storage in New Haven. An even

greater amount of moveable art remains in the Deir ez-Zor Museum, which has been subject to

air raids in the Syrian civil war since January 2016.20 The extent of damage to the museum, and

the artefacts within, is currently unknown. Furthermore, many pieces of the Durene synagogue

15 Brody and Hoffman, Dura-Europos: Crossroads to Antiquity, xxiii. 16 Brody and Hoffman, Dura-Europos: Crossroads to Antiquity, xxiii. 17 Carl Kraeling, The Excavations at Dura-Europos: Final Report VIII- Part II: The Christian Building (New York: J. Augustin Publisher, 1967), 210. 18 Brody and Hoffman. Dura-Europos: Crossroads to Antiquity 5-10. 19 Brody and Hoffman, Dura-Europos: Crossroads to Antiquity, 10-25. 20 Baird, The Inner Lives of Ancient Houses, 5.

7 are still held by the National Museum of Damascus,21 making it difficult to extensively compare the art and artifacts of the ancient Durene communities.

Because of the problems inherent in curatorial practice, religious scholars addressing

Dura-Europos are called to the original, descriptive reports. The review of Durene scholarship, to follow shortly in this chapter, will show how a closer engagement with the materiality of the site challenges preconceived notions of the city and its inhabitants. For this reason, the original excavation reports- problematic though they may be- cannot be overlooked.

Scholarly History and Literature Review:

As stated in the preface to this project, my primary objective is to view Dura as a locus for the creation of a Christian identity. My research focuses, therefore, on the complex relationship between place, ritual, and identity. Of course, identity is a nebulous, multi-faceted, and dynamic phenomenon. Further discussion on the forms of Durene identity, be they linguistic, religious, or cultural, will be undertaken in Chapter Three of this project. All observations, however, must be prefaced with the premise that the Durene Christians were exposed to a highly pluralistic society. Though I will assess how they asserted their religious distinction in this society by mobilizing key identity features of Christianity, I do not attempt to securely categorize them as any particular “school” of Christianity. The process of becoming Christian in Dura was hugely affected by the house church’s exposure and proximity to different communities; it is only logical that this Christian community borrowed from their neighbours as readily as they differentiated from them.

21 Brody and Hoffman, Dura-Europos: Crossroads to Antiquity, 5-10. 8

Interpretations of the Durene excavation reports have often lost sight of Dura’s reality as a Roman garrison town. Richard Krautheimer, in Early Christian and Byzantine Architecture, provides one of the earliest commentaries on the Durene archeological reports. His analysis is not extensive, but it marks the first consideration of Dura-Europos as a primary site in early

Christian history. Krautheimer primarily analyzes Pearson’s report of excavations on City Block

M8 conducted in 1933-1934, which came to the conclusion that a domestic residence had been renovated to create a Christian domus ecclesia.22 Krautheimer concludes that Dura is (at the time of his writing) the earliest example of this domus archetype, a type known to the West through

Paul’s letters.

Krautheimer interprets Dura’s architecture only briefly, emphasizing the inconspicuousness of the house church and concluding that the introverted nature of the house would have suited the congregation’s desire for secrecy.23 Krautheimer’s assumption of the

“congregation’s desire for secrecy,” rests on the supposition that Christianity was actively persecuted during Dura’s existence. His characterization of the house church as introverted, inconspicuous, and hidden suggests that the congregation practiced their rituals in secrecy; this further implies that this community was at odds with their Roman contemporaries. The design of the house, according to this analysis, responded to this atmosphere of fear and persecution.

There are notable problems with this type of analysis. Historians have more-or-less disproven claims of intense Christian persecution throughout the early 200s.24 In the Eastern provinces of the Roman empire, Christian persecutions occurred in brief, localized waves, and

22 Richard Krautheimer, Early Christian and Byzantine Architecture (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1965), 28. 23 Krautheimer, Early Christian and Byzantine Architecture, 28. 24 Annabel Jane Wharton, Reconfiguring the Post Classical City (New Haven: Cambridge University Press,1995), 25.

would likely not have occurred anytime when the Durene community was building, or

occupying, its house church.25 Moreover, no stand-alone churches from 3rd century Western

Christian communities have been excavated, and there is certainly no evidence to suggest that

the Durene house church stands as a prototype for early Christian places of worship. This

assumption assumes a unified, “universal Christianity” existed throughout the Roman Empire by

the 3rd century. Walter Bauer’s thesis of “multiple Christianities” is far more widely accepted

today.26 Therefore, the Durene house church only represents the architectural choices of one

particular Christian community. It cannot be said to be the earliest representative of any church-

type. Carl Kraeling, whose own analysis of the Christian building will be discussed at length in

this project, himself cautions against this assertion. In his more exhaustive analysis, he views the

Durene church as normative of only a type of Mesopotamian domus ecclesia. Kraeling

particularly warns scholars against deriving the Christian basilica out of this type of early

Christian building pattern.27

This reliance on the “domus ecclesiae type,” is an early problem with Durene

scholarship. It is based on specific assumptions derived from particular interpretations of the

Pauline letters. The Pauline epistles suggest that the earliest Christian meetings occurred in

houses, spaces donated by a specific patron (1 Cor. 16:19, NRSV).28 Meeting areas of this type

do not require any major renovation of the domestic space. These early meeting places were

likely simple, regionally-varying houses wherein some sort of Eucharistic meal or sermon was

25 Ramsay MacMullen, The Second Church: Popular Christianity A.D. 200–400 (Boston: Brill Publishing Company, 2009), 7-8. 26 Walter Bauer, Orthodoxy and Heresy in Earliest Christianity, trans. Robert. A Kraft. 2nd Edition (Mifflintown: Sigler Press, 1996), 48. 27 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 140. 28 Paul’s Letter to the Corinthians references a house church belonging to Aquila and Prisca (1 Cor 16:19, NRSV) and it is referred to again in his Letter to the Romans (Romans 16: 3-5, NRSV ).

conducted.29 As the meeting places referred to by Paul were not purpose-built for Christian

ritualism, it is difficult to archeologically verify these kinds of “Christian” meeting place from

any other domicile.30 These structures are loosely referred to in the New Testament as “oikos,”-

the Greek word simply referring to “house/household.”31 Scholars such as Paul Bradshaw often

refer to the halls within these oikoi, the sites of Christian conversation and feasting, as “feast

halls.”32 The idea was that, by the second century, the existing domus ecclesiae type appears to

have replaced the Apostolic “congregation room” model, but its usage- whether it was reserved

solely for ritualistic activity, or whether it served as a domestic residence with the capacity for

ritual use- varies regionally.33 Scholars therefore use the term domus ecclesiae to refer to a

domestic building that had a formalized sacred function. The discovery of the Dura-Europos

house church was, therefore, assumed to be the earliest model for this form. It appeared to

confirm the existence of this early Christian mythos.34

The problem with the myth of the domus ecclesiae is that there really isn’t any consistent

model for this type. Subsequently, there is no consistent understanding of the ritualistic use of

these buildings. The myth of the domus ecclesiae implies that all early Christian buildings were

29 P. F. Bradshaw, The Search for the Origins of Christian Worship: Sources and Methods for the Study of Early Liturgy (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1992), 33. 30 H. Hendricks, “The House Church in Paul’s Letters.” Theology Annual 12 (1990-1991): 154, http://archive.hsscol.org.hk/Archive/periodical/abstract/A012j.htm. Hendricks notes that Paul’s letters repeatedly refer to a structure belonging to a husband and wife, one that was not initially intended to be an exclusively ritualistic centre. 31 The word “oikos” is commonly Latinized in Christian scholarship, and I have followed suite here. See also: Halvor Moxnes, Putting Jesus in His Place: A Radical Vision of Household and Kingdom (Louisville:Westminster John Knox Press, 2003), 23. 32 Paul Bradshaw, Early Christian Worship: A Basic Introduction to Ideas and Practice (Cogeville: The Liturgical Press, 1996), 42. 33 V. Tzaferis, “Inscribed To God Jesus Christ.” Biblical Archaeology Review 33, no. 2, (March/April 2007): 45, https://web.archive.org/web/20100522142714/http://www.bib-arch.org/online-exclusives/oldest-church-02.asp. 34 Steven J. Scloeder, “The Myth of the Domus Ecclesia,” Online Edition, Vol. XVIII, no. 5. (August 2012): 30, https://adoremus.org/temp_archives/0812Schloeder.html

used for the same type of Christian behaviour- a mix of domestic and ritualistic function.

However, just as no one “church” type can pan-regionally represent an “early Christian place,”

early excavated “Christian” buildings point to a dynamism of early Christian ritual behaviour.

The excavated domus ecclesiae on record function as very different buildings.

An early 3rd century domus ecclesiae,35 excavated from To Meggido in the Galilee,

serves as a notable comparative example to Dura. It is superficially very similar, but there are

key differences that are worth considering. To Meggido also has clear connections to a Roman

Garrison; the To Meggido House Church is situated directly within a garrison, and its evidence

of excavated bread stamps and documents (indicating the administration of military wages)

strongly point to its being used by the Roman soldiers themselves.36 Though there is no strong

evidence to suggest that the Durene House Church was used by Roman Christian soldiers, it

represents a similarly purpose-built Christian shrine for a highly militarized, Romanized

community. Though the To Meggido house church was clearly designed to facilitate rituals,37 it

was a large complex and clearly retained domestic functionality.38 Through an interconnected

system of rooms, a Christian baptistery, “prayer” hall, and meeting room for the Eucharist ritual

35 The archeologist report, analyzed and interpreted by Yotam Tepper and Leah di Segni, chooses to describe the To Meggido house church as a “prayer hall,” rather than a “house church.” The distinction made by the authors is that the house was privately owned, rather than owned by the Christian community. Because the To Meggido complex includes a prayer hall and baptistery, is functionally similar the Durene house church, and private ownership of the latter has not been verified, I have decided to compare them as examples of domus ecclesiae type. For additional information, see Yotam Tepper and Leah di Segni, “A Christian Prayer Hall of the Third Century C.E. at Kefar.” Óthnay (Legio). (Jerusalem: IAA Publications, 2006), 24. 36 Tzaferis, “Inscribed To God Jesus Christ,” 45-46. 37 It is relatively easy to ascertain which areas of the To Meggido house church were used for Christian rituals. The baptistery contains inscriptions pointing to the Christian identity of its users, and the prayer hall features an elabourate floor mosaic with Biblical narrative themes. Moreover, the inscription stating that God and Jesus Christ are one and the same is found at a crucial point in the To Meggido prayer hall. For additional information, see Yotam Tepper and Leah di Segni, A Christian Prayer Hall of the Third Century C.E. at Kefar Óthnay (Legio) (Jerusalem: IAA Publications, 2006), 24. 38 Tzaferis, “Inscribed To God Jesus Christ,” 46.

were linked to domestic rooms that signal food preparation or administrative activities.39 Though

built to accommodate ritual, the To Meggido space appears to have functioned primarily as

permanent living quarters.

The Durene House Church is dissimilar to both To Meggido and to the congressional hall

idea discussed in the Pauline Epistles. Unlike To Meggido, which retained a fluidity between

domestic and ritual use, the Durene House Church did not retain any obvious domestic

functioning.40 The materiality of the site conveys a total transformation of space. The Christian

House Church was clearly reserved as cultic space after extensive renovations. As such, it clearly

and visibly was a different sort of space than the domus ecclesiae referred to in the earliest

Christian texts, and it is a very different building from To Meggido.41 The total transformation

also challenges Krautheimer’s discussion of persecuted Christians, hiding their cultic practices

within a closed-off, inconspicuous private residence.

The contrast between To Meggido's and Dura’s examples of house/church suggests that

no singular form of domus ecclesiae can serve as a prototype for Christian church building.

Christians in different communities had different social and ritualistic concerns, and required

different religious places.

Michael L. White interprets early Christian archeological evidence within the context of

religious adaptations occurring throughout the wider Roman Empire in Late Antiquity. Instead of

39 Tzaferis, “Inscribed To God Jesus Christ,” 46. 40 For this reason, Dura-Europos is still referred to, at the time of writing, as the oldest Christian church. Primarily domestic units, such as To Meggido, are referred to as “Prayer Halls,” or baptisteries. The Durene house church is solely reserved for particular ritual, and therefore is considered, albeit problematically, emblematic of a Christian church as one would contemporarily use the term. 41 Kraeling acknowledges that the church no longer functioned as the earliest type of domus ecclesiae, and suggests that it cannot be deemed indicative of later Church types. However, his discussion retains the term domus ecclesiae, and he prefaces the introduction of this term with a reference to Christian persecution. Though Kraeling does not describe the Durene community as “persecuted,” the association between this building type and a sort of “private,” “removed,” place from the rest of Durene society remains. Chapter Three and Four will discuss the problems with this association. See: Kraeling, The Excavations at Dura-Europos, 140. 13

looking to architectural patterns as a trajectory of Christian development (i.e. from persecution to

acceptance), White assembles a larger body of archeological evidence. He demonstrates that

there was a huge degree of variance in Christian building practice, just as there was diversity

within their societies, and variance in their ritualistic adherence and liturgical patterns. In The

Social Origins of Christian Architecture, White highlights adaptation/renovation as a preliminary

concept in Christian buildings.42 His survey does not comment on Dura extensively, but he does

make mention of the renovations that transformed a Durene house into a Christian ritual

building. This already challenges the categorization of Dura as a “House Church,”- unlike other

domus ecclesiae examples, it could not be inhabited as a residence.43 White’s analysis of Dura-

Europos, though brief, raises the idea that it was adapted for ritualistic reasons beyond the

Pauline precedent of feast halls/hidden sermon areas. He examines the evidence from the entire

building, including the placement of benches and the shuttering of some windows in particular

areas throughout the space. His analysis of the benches suggests that the courtyard was expanded

to see additional foot-traffic, rather than closed off to hide the community. The cumulative

renovations of the original Durene House suggest conscious adaptation for specific patterns of

ritual, movement and communication in and between the various areas of the domus.44

This material-centric approach to Dura-Europos is shared by historian Ramsay

MacMullen. MacMullen discusses Dura-Europos in The Second Church and similarly relies on

archeological evidence in order to analyze Christian ritual development. In The Second Church,

MacMullen analyzes the Durene house church as an early example of a negotiation between

42 Michael L. White, The Social Origins of Christian Architecture. Volume I: Building God’s House in the Roman World: Architectural Adaption among Pagans, Jews, and Christians, (Baltimore: John Hopkins University Press, 1990), 3. 43 White, The Social Origins of Christian Architecture, 3. 44 White, The Social Origins of Christian Architecture, 121.

Christian and Roman identities. MacMullen examines Christian development in the Eastern

Roman empire; he argues that the rate of ritual and liturgical development in this region far

exceeded the rate of Christian conversion in the West.45 He notes that early Christian “churches,”

such as the Durene house church, boasted smaller square footages than would be anticipated

from the conversion rates in their corresponding cities. Cross-referencing textual evidence about

sizes of Christian populations in the early third century, MacMullen finds that the dimensions of

Dura’s Assembly Hall could hold only about seventy-five people. The city, on the other hand,

boasted a total population roughly between 6,000 and 8,000.46 The Christian community, having

the means to build an ornate Baptistery in order to initiate new Christians, would have been in

the process of rapid growth; it would almost certainly consist of more than seventy-five

members. MacMullen argues that second and third century “churches” were small because

Christians would have worshipped in a variety of places; he explores cemeteries as key sites for

Christian religious activity, retained from the earliest period of Christian behaviour.47

MacMullen’s research, and reliance on the archeological record, suggests a great degree of a

variety within the domus ecclesiae type, buildings that were built to facilitate a wide variety of

ritualistic activity.

If Durene Christians were familiar with many places of worship, one might consider why

they renovated one house so specifically. Though MacMullen surveys many churches throughout

the Eastern empire, his brief chapter on Dura makes mention of the minutiae in the house.

45 Ramsay MacMullen, The Second Church: Popular Christianity A.D. 200–400 (Boston: Brill Publishing Company, 2009), 3. 46 MacMullen, The Second Church, 8. 47 MacMullen, The Second Church, 8. A similar investigation of cemeteries and catacombs is impossible in the confines of this project. A Roman catacomb exists just beyond Dura’s fortified Western wall; it has not been excavated at the time of writing. For more information, see Baird, The Secret Lives of Ancient Houses, 12.

MacMullen’s reliance on archeologically excavated mensae demonstrates a connection between

physical place and ritual practice.48 He carefully considers how many people could be involved

in the House Church’s rituals, and how certain spaces may have included chairs and tables that

decayed over time.49 He notes that the scale of renovated Hall could accommodate a Eucharist,

but the room would be too small for a feast hall.50 Origen’s writings pointedly criticize Syrian-

region Christians for extensive feasting; it is /seems unlikely that the Durenes uniquely dispensed

with this activity. They would, presumably, have had large communal feasts in different

locations.51 Their House Church was designed with a different ritual in mind. It was designed to

facilitate catechesis and baptism; in other words, it facilitated the stages of Christian initiation.

Though White and MacMullen offer an archeological analysis of the House Church, most

scholarship on Dura has been conducted within the discipline of art history. The main focus has

been on the artistic frescoes excavated from the House Church and Synagogue. Carl H.

Kraeling’s book, The Excavations at Dura-Europos: The Christian Building was published in

1967 and, to this day, is considered the most comprehensive guide to and expansion of the

original architectural reports.52 Kraeling’s guide is the major source of reference for any

discussion of the materiality of the site; my analysis will be further augmented with my own

observations of artefacts displayed in the Yale University Art Gallery.

48 MacMullen, The Second Church, 4-5. 49 MacMullen, The Second Church, 4-5. 50 MacMullen, The Second Church, 4-5. 51 MacMullen, The Second Church, 4-5. 52 Michael Peppard describes Durene art scholarship, in general, as indebted to Kraeling’s descriptive reconstruction of the site, and to his interpretations. See: Michael Peppard, The World’s Oldest Church: Bible, Art and Ritual at Dura-Europos, Syria (New Haven: Yale Scholarship Online, 2016), http://yale.universitypressscholarship.com.ezproxy.lib.ucalgary.ca/view/10.12987/yale/9780300213997.001.0001/up so-9780300213997

Kraeling’s interpretations allow for the most complete “reconstruction” of the Durene

House Church. Kraeling avoids casting Dura’s House Church as the starting point for the

development of the Western basilica or cathedral. Moreover, his identifications of the Baptistery

figures have become the dominant interpretation of the Biblical scenes in Dura, and are

essentially taken as the scholarly consensus.53 Without Kraeling’s report, we would have an even

more incomplete picture of the Durene house church. In order to analyze the site

comprehensively, and obtain the deepest impression of how the ritual would have been

conducted within space, Kraeling’s descriptions of the materials cannot be overlooked. However,

a comprehensive analysis of Durene ritual is not Kraeling’s central area of investigation.

Initially examining the architectural layout of the site, Kraeling’s interpretation of the site

centres on the Christian art. This marks the shift towards the artistic analysis that has come to

characterize Durene research.54 Kraeling’s lens is turned towards the frescoes, and he reads them

in order to confirm or identify Syriac theological themes in the region. Kraeling’s approach to

Dura assigns it a unique “character” within Syriac Christianity, which may imply that the

community was far more remote, or “non-Roman” than it was.55 Kraeling takes note of the

Christian liturgical and Biblical texts that were indicative of Christianity practiced in the Durene

area, including Tatian’s harmony of the Gospels, the Diatessaron, several of Ephraim’s hymns,

and the Apostolic Tradition. He also draws on other material in Syriac, notably the Old Syriac

53 There are notable exceptions to Kraeling’s identifications in the work of Michael Peppard, which will be addressed shortly. However, unless explicitly marked, I will interpret the artistic frescoes with an eye towards Kraeling’s identifications. 54 Kraeling, The Excavations at Dura-Europos, 67-90. 55 Kraeling describes Christianity during this time period as highly variable, but maintains throughout that the Syrian region was prone to Gnosticizing elements due to a lack of familiarity with Paul’s letters. This identification seems at odds with the Antiochean origin that Kraeling also assigns to the Durene community. (Kraeling, The Excavations at Dura-Europos, 119-120.)

version of the “Evangel of the Separated Ones,” the Odes of Solomon, and the Doctrina Addai.56

Kraeling interprets the frescoes within a specific reconstruction of an emerging Syriac Christian

liturgical practice. This particular lens reveals a theological preoccupation in Kraeling’s

writing.57 Kraeling ultimately creates a “theological narrative” for the Durene Christians, one

that occasionally clashes with the standard interpretation of Biblical stories through the writings

of the church fathers. Kraeling acknowledges that, during this period of Christianity, the line

between orthodoxy and heresy was blurred, if not all-together nonexistent. However, he notes

that the location of the Durene church left it “vulnerable to ideologies of a sectarian bent.”58

Kraeling surmises that the region emphasized a “doctrine of salvation” that had Gnosticizing

tendencies, though he is careful to never refer to the community as Gnostic.59

This “doctrine of salvation” is well-justified in Kraeling’s book, and he provides enough

evidence to suggest that soteriology was an important theme in early Syrian Christian

religiosity.60 However, Kraeling’s theory rests on a specific reconstruction of Syriac Christianity

derived from a selected group of texts and applied to Durene behaviour based on Dura’s location.

This is too simple a view of the development of Christian theology, and it doesn’t consider the

multi-faceted nature of early Christian identity. Kraeling’s main ritual themes emerges from a

56 Kraeling acknowledges that the Durene church’s construction predates the Doctrina Addai, using it primarily as textual justification for history of a Christian presence in Syria. His artistic interpretation of the Durene frescoes is primarily situated in the canonical Biblical literature and The Acts of Thomas, with comparisons to the later Ephrem’s baptismal Hymni in Festum Epiphaniae. See: Kraeling, The Excavations at Dura-Europos, 180-190. 57 This isn’t to suggest that Kraeling’s examination is a theological one, nor am I suggesting that he advocates for a specific, theological definition for “early Christianity.” However, his theological sources, and his focus on the Biblical narrative behind the Durene imagery draws a sharp parallel between Syriac Christianity and canonical writings. In this sense, the “theology” of the Durene Christians becomes characterized as heterodox. 58 Kraeling, The Excavations at Dura-Europos, 122. 59 Kraeling, The Excavations at Dura-Europos, 123. 60 Kraeling is relatively sound when discussing the doctrinal themes that can be pieced together from this early period of Syrian Christian development. He does not, unlike some other scholars, overreach into the later Syriac writings sources, reading later themes into the early texts. I do not wish to imply that Kraeling misidentifies the theology of the Durene Christians. Insofar as any theology can be pieced together in this early period, Kraeling’s ideas are sound and plausible. 18 body of texts, and they are texts that do not foreground ritual as their main area of investigation.

Through this approach, there is a tendency to force-fit materiality and ritual into the prescribed confines of the analyzed text. Kraeling, to his credit, solidly interprets the appropriate, available texts against the imagery recovered from the Durene House Church. However, the soteriology that he identifies does not explain how ritual would have been performed in the space. More to this, Kraeling’s theology does not begin to examine how baptism ritual, an initiation process, would have conveyed themes of soteriology to developing Christian identities.

This theological framing, one that does not take ritual movement into account, is unavoidable because Kraeling focuses on the art in relative isolation. After documenting the spatial details of the site, and describing the renovations of the Original House, Kraeling focuses his attention on the art and the imagery’s correspondence to theological tropes and themes. He does not consider the art’s role in facilitating ritual, or the interaction between initiate and art in the ritual process. He also does not extensively consider the role of the entire building as a ritual unit, despite determining that the renovations of the house extend to each room- a finding that suggests that the whole building played a role in the initiation process. This problem comes to light in Kraeling’s interesting comparison between the Baptistery art and the art of the Durene

Mithraeum. He describes of the frescos of the North Baptistery Wall as representing “the powers

(dunameis) of Christ in much the same way as the Mithraeum wall depict the powerful actions of

Mithras.”61 This is an especially interesting point; the different “powers” of Christ reflect, as I argue in my own analysis, stages of ritual performance, and the tropes instilled in these stages.

They constitute discreet ritual places that contribute progressively to the overall initiation process. However, because Kraeling’s subject is the art, the ritual meaning of these “powers” is

61 Kraeling, The Excavations at Dura-Europos, 175-176. 19

obscured. He hints at a key area to explore; exploring it fully, however, would necessitate

shifting the object of investigation from art to mobile body.

Later scholars within art history have hinted at a more ritualized view of the Durene

Christian Baptistery art. Annabel Wharton, for example, approaches Dura from Kraeling’s art

historian perspective; her focus, in Reconfiguring the Post Classical City: Dura-Europos, Jerash,

Jerusalem and Ravenna, is the changing aesthetic of Roman temple architecture and art and the

coinciding of it with the development of Christian places of worship. She is interested in the

development of a “Christianized” city throughout Late Antiquity. Like Kraeling, Wharton looks

to the Durene House Church for evidence of the development of visible Christianity. Since her

interests are directed towards a “Christianized” presence in Dura as a city, she examines the

place more closely than Kraeling does, and engages in a more thorough comparison between

Durene Christian art and the art of their Jewish and Roman contemporaries. Nevertheless, she

also works within the discipline of art history, and does not prioritize the active, embodied

religious habits of the Durene Christians.

Wharton is instrumental in challenging early scholarly assumptions about Dura-Europos

itself. She criticizes early Durene scholarship because it adopted an Orientalist lens that

arbitrarily casts Dura as an “Eastern backwater,” due to its distance from Western Rome.62

Wharton particularly rejects Kraeling’s tendency to treat Durene Christians as the “Eastern”

opposite to orthodox “Western” Christians. She locates this unconscious “Orientalist bias” in the

terminology that has become standard in Durene analysis. Kraeling, for example, describes

certain rooms as the “harem” quarters,63 a type of all-female domestic setting that is not fully

62 Annabel Jane Wharton, Reconfiguring the Post Classical City: Dura-Europos, Jerash, Jerusalem and Ravenna (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995), 33. 63 Kraeling, The Excavations at Dura-Europos, 38.

20 understood in this time period and was based on previous misinterpretations of excavated evidence from “harem quarters” of the ancient Middle East.64 This trajectory of scholarship has misrepresented the material reality of city, and subsequently, the cultural conditioning of the

Durene Christians. The Roman Empire is defined by cultural pluralism, and Dura is no different from other Roman cities in this regard. Wharton suggests that Dura must be understood as both militaristic and pluralistic, larger and more diversely populated than originally assumed.65 Lisa

Brody’s exhibition notes on Dura-Europos: Crossroads to Antiquity directly respond to

Wharton’s emphasis on the religious and cultural pluralism in Dura, and uses the site as a case study through which to portray pluralism in the Roman Empire of Late Antiquity.66 The material remains of the site certainly emphasize a sense of shared city between Roman, Palmyrene, and

Greek cultural communities, communities that experienced mixed religious markers of Christian,

Jew, Mithraist and others as part of their daily life (notably in cooking artifacts and funerary art).67 Christians and Jews from city Block M8 would frequently pass and see Temples to Aphlad and Bel, which were more centrally located in the city’s agora.68 Wharton’s examination and consideration of Dura’s unique location takes into account the military context of the city, which has reverberations in the imagery of Dura’s religious sites.69 Wharton also outlines how architecturally similar the Christian House Church was to other Durene buildings. Most houses in the city were closed-off and insular, challenging the impression that the house church's introversion was an effect of any persecutions of Christians.70 My own analysis of Dura relies on

64 Baird, The Inner Lives of Ancient Houses, 212. 65 Wharton, Reconfiguring the Post Classical City, 13-15. 66 Brody and Hoffman, Dura-Europos: Crossroads to Antiquity, 23-26. 67 Baird, The Inner Lives of Ancient Houses, 119-124. 68 Wharton, Reconfiguring the Post Classical City, 25. 69 Wharton, Reconfiguring the Post Classical City, 27-30. 70 Wharton, Reconfiguring the Post Classical City, 33. 21

both premises, and investigates how the pluralism and militarism of the city informs the

Christian community’s understanding of Christian tropes and Christian behaviours.

Christian behaviour itself is only superficially addressed by Wharton, like Kraeling

before her; Dura is primarily treated as a site for a particular, aesthetic expression of Christian

art. However, she does begin to address the viewing of Christian art from the mobile, ritualistic

perspective. She is interested in how Christian art would be seen from the perspective of a

Roman audience, and acknowledges that art served a ritualistic function for these viewers. She

advocates for analyzing the Christian frescoes from a haptic, interactive perspective; the art is

seen through action and interaction, rather than viewed as gallery pieces. Wharton's interest in

Dura’s ritual spaces supports the benefits of a new theoretical lens- that of haptic viewing.

Through such viewing, the art of the Durene House Church may be read as reflective of and

interactive with the baptismal act, rather than indicating any specific doctrine.71

Wharton’s haptic perspective has been adopted by other historically-focused art

historians, such as Gregory Snyder and Jas Elsner.72 These historians write about the specific

way of “seeing” that is common to the Roman period. The Durene Christian reaction to the art in

the House Church and Baptistery was guided by, to borrow Elsner’s term, their “Roman eyes.”

By this, Elsner refers to the Roman understanding of art’s function. In Chapter 9 of Roman Eyes,

Elsner argues that art, especially sequential art, could serve both a ritualistic and a “propaganda”

purpose for Roman viewers. The iconography at Dura-Europos would be originally understood

71 Wharton, Reconfiguring the Post Classical City, 133. 72 Jas Elsner, Roman Eyes: Visuality & Subjectivity in Art & Text (New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 2007), 256-258. For further reference, please see also: Gregory Snyder, “Pictures in Dialogue: A Viewer-Centered Approach to the Hypogeum on Via Dino Compagni,” Journal of Early Christian Studies 13 no. 3 (2005): 349-386 http://muse.jhu.edu.ezproxy.lib.ucalgary.ca/article/186945

as functioning both as a dissemination of Christian themes, messages and tropes and as a ritual

guide.73

This idea that artistic images indicate ritual prescriptions and identity themes is explored

in a more specifically Christian context in Robin Jensen’s scholarship. Focusing on imagery

found in early Christian baptisteries, Jensen’s work focuses on material culture as a primary

point for the investigation of the baptismal ritual. Her Living Water: Images, Symbols, and

Settings of Early Christian Baptism emphasizes the disconnect between textual sources and the

iconography dominant in places where baptisms occurred. In doing so, she also avoids

reconstructing the ritual from the perspective of a particular Christian school or theology. A

notable example of these discrepancies would be the prescriptions of the Syrian Didache with the

materiality of the Durene Baptismal font. Jensen notes that the full immersion that is encouraged

by the Didache would have been impossible given the standard, shallow depth of the typical

baptismal font.74 Michael Peppard quotes Jensen in describing the affusion method of baptism

(ie: pouring water over a standing individual, rather than having them kneel to immerse

themselves in a font) as typical in the Syriac region; one must also note that full immersion

would have been a relatively easy choice in Dura, given the town’s proximity to the Euphrates.75

This locational reality, coupled with the shallow archetype for the baptismal fonts described by

Jensen, challenges the authority of the Didache in the region, and suggests a communal

preference for an indoor Baptistery.

73 Jas Elsner, Roman Eyes: Visuality & Subjectivity in Art & Text (New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 2007), 256-258. 74 Robin M. Jensen, Living Water: Images, Symbols, and Settings of Early Christian Baptism (Boston: Brill Publishing Company, 2010), 140-141. 75 Jensen, Living Water, 278.

Jensen’s approach highlights the disparity between the ideal “type” of ritual as promoted in liturgical literature, and the actual, varied practice of these rituals throughout the Roman

Empire.76 There is no “correct” early Christian liturgy, and the material differences in Jensen’s survey of baptisteries strongly confirms a variance of practices of Christian rituals throughout the empire. The symbolism that abounds in Christian baptisteries may be read, contextually, as marking out key themes of developing Christian identity. Jensen examines particular images as identity markers for the different Christian communities.77 Though Jensen is an art historian, she particularly addresses that art which has a ritual context. She theorizes that a type of symbolic language is created through interactions between ritual action and iconography. The different symbolism in baptistery art suggests that baptism was understood differently by diverse communities, depending on the theme of identity associated with Christian initiation.78 For example, baptistery art from the Syrian region in the 3rd and 4th centuries readily depicts baptism as a “healing” experience, whether through bodily or spiritual purification.79 The prevalence of these motifs in Baptistery art suggests that Christian initiation, in this context, was understood by early communities as a transformation from an impure (or diseased) state to a purified (or “healed”) one. This motif is less readily represented in the Apologetic texts, where

Baptism is discussed in a different, more eschatological framework.80 The Durene Baptistery, which predates most textual commentary on baptism, similarly has artistic motifs and artistic practices that readily correspond to this idea of initiation and “healing.”

76 Jensen, Living Water, 128-130. 77 Jensen, Living Water, 180-181. 78 Jensen, Living Water, 128-130. 79 Jensen, Living Water, 277. 80 Kraeling, The Excavations at Dura-Europos, 123.

Michael Peppard’s The World’s Oldest Church, follows Jensen’s precedent in examining

the connection between baptismal iconography and ritual performance.81 Like Jensen, whom he

works with and cites, Peppard mainly aims to discuss the Durene Baptistery art insofar as it

represents crucial components of the baptismal act.82 He notes that the Durene wall frescoes

have value in that that they would have worked to promote “brands” of recognizable Christian

identity.83 These brands, when examined by the initiate during the baptism, solidify the

characteristics that are integral to marking out a new religious/social identity for the baptized.

When considered in the context of multi-tradition, cosmopolitan Dura, these markers reveal

significant information about how Durene Christians sought to distinguish themselves from their

counterparts. Peppard follows Elsner’s precedence in attempting to highlight an immersive art-

viewing of the site, one that would have influences outside the standard textual trajectory of

Christian liturgical development. 84 The World’s Oldest Church divests Syriac baptism of

apocalyptic connotations85 and instead focuses on its role in cementing a kind of theological re-

birth. Though Jensen acknowledges the role of the baptistery as an initiatory building, Peppard

more explicitly relates the importance of this building in “creating” Durene Christians. Peppard

81 Peppard, The World’s Oldest Church, 5. 82 Peppard, The World’s Oldest Church, 22-33. 83 Peppard, The World’s Oldest Church, 60. 84 Peppard’s approach also parallels the “art-viewing” theories of Gregory Snyder. Snyder’s analysis of the Christian art at the Vina Dino Compagni catacomb, which represents a similar attempt to examine sequential art from the ritualized perspective. Snyder argues that icons, when viewed in the mobile ritual, aid in hermeneutic linking of information. These links form a ritualist hermeneutic that nuances (and is not analogous to) the textual religious teachings. See also: Gregory Snyder, “Pictures in Dialogue: A Viewer-Centered Approach to the Hypogeum on Via Dino Compagni,” Journal of Early Christian Studies 13 no. 3 (2005): 349-386 http://muse.jhu.edu.ezproxy.lib.ucalgary.ca/article/186945 85 An understanding of apocalypticism has featured in featured in previous interpretations of Syriac art and iconography. Contemporary scholars believe that this trend was read into Syriac imagery, problematically connecting it to the Gnostic traditions. The contemporary understanding of Syriac Christianity is that apocalypticism was deemphasized in ritual life. Peppard, The World’s Oldest Church, 22-33.

25 particularly examines the pre-baptismal anointing ceremony, and discusses its reverberation in

Syriac ritual art.86 In one key conclusion from his research, he suggests that this anointing signified the “brand” of Christianity. In this sense, he acknowledges the interaction between the art and the viewer, and treats the art as a dynamic entity in ritual function.

Peppard’s initial premise, as stated in the first chapter of the book, is an intriguing one;

Peppard asks “what would Isseos see?,” referring to a “neophyte” known to the archeological record. Isseos’ existence was discovered through the recovery of a large oil jar in a Durene domicile inscribed with his name and his status as “neophyte.”87 The oil jar, evidenced from its inscription, seems to be a memento retained from Isseos’ baptism, during which he progressed from his catechumen identity, and into a new “neophyte” position in the Christian community.

This, in and of itself, is evidence of the life-long significance and multi-stage structure of

Christian initiation rituals at Dura-Europos. Peppard argues that scholars must approach the

Baptistery art from Isseos’ perspective- how would he, as a new Christian, have seen it and how would it inform his developing Christian identity?

Peppard’s “tracking” of Isseos’ direct eye-viewing of the site is enticing, as it marks a major attempt to address Christian identity from ritual features reflected in the materiality of a physical site. Peppard’s book, however, does not fully follow through with this idea, remaining focused on offering new artistic interpretations of the Durene fresco art, with little attention paid to the art’s role in direct, embodied ritual.

Peppard’s work has garnered attention as a new source of fresco-interpretation. He determines “identity” of the artistic figures in each remaining fresco through extensive cross-

86 Peppard, The World’s Oldest Church, 22-33. 87 Peppard, The World’s Oldest Church, 22.

referencing of the Durene baptistery art with Syriac literature, and through comparanda with

examples of Syriac church art.88 However, as I will address in the later chapters of this project,

the Syriac tradition is not an established school by the time of Dura’s abandonment. Peppard

does propose that the later Syriac identity was acquired through a “borrowing process” between

multiple traditions, but he is primarily focused on the artistic tradition that develops in this region

throughout Late Antiquity.89 His choices of primary sources are troubling in their scope;

Peppard’s textual and artistic sources are connected by geographic provenance, but span

hundreds of years. This allows for new, flexible interpretations of the figures depicted in the

frescoes, but it does not provide particular insight into the ways Durene Christians would have

ritualistically viewed and identified with these figures.

Peppard challenges several of Kraeling’s fresco interpretations, suggesting that the

Women’s Procession represents the parable of the Wise and Foolish Virgins, rather than

representing the myrrophores at the tomb of Jesus. He also suggests that the Woman at the Well

is not the Johannine Samaritan Woman, but rather the Virgin Mary at the Annunciation; this

conclusion results from comparisons with 8th century Armenian Gospels and 12th century

Byzantine art.90 Such late sourcing indicates the danger of situating Durene Christianity within

the later Syriac Christian canon. Because imagery about the womb is popular in Syriac writings

(as well as the Protevangelium of James), Peppard makes the connection between the baptismal

font and the “purified” womb of Mary.91 However, early writings that discuss the womb rarely

88 Peppard, The World’s Oldest Church, 57. 89 Peppard, The World’s Oldest Church, 60-66. 90 Peppard offers a comparanda between the use of women in Dura and the use of women in different Syriac church art. Additional critiques of this identification and other conclusions, will be offered in the next Chapter, and again when I discuss the ritual relationship of these figures in the baptismal process. See: Peppard, The World’s Oldest Church, 57. 91 Peppard, The World’s Oldest Church, 173-177.

place it in an initiation context.92 Moreover, in the early Protevangelium of James, it is Mary’s

virginity that is emphasized; there is nothing in the Durene baptismal art that emphasizes

virginity.93 As I will argue more fully in the fifth chapter of this work, the frescoes’ placement in

the Baptistery more readily supports a connection between themes of healing, and themes

concerning the resurrection into a new life. The Woman at the Well fresco is similarly more

appropriately read in the context of healing and life.94

Though Peppard acknowledges that his observations are inconclusive, the greater overall

problem is that he does not follow through with addressing the art from a ritual perspective.

Isseos, after being mentioned in the first Chapter, is hardly referenced throughout the artistic

analysis. Peppard comments on the frescoes individually, out of their ritual sequence in the

Baptistery; this makes it impossible to consider Isseos engaging in a mobile processional

throughout the space. Moreover, the human body is notably absent in Peppard’s account of the

frescoes. If Isseos is indeed “followed” throughout the Baptistery, little attention is paid to the

way his body would have moved, paused, accelerated, or felt during the various components of

ritualistic activity. For example, it is one thing to describe the artistic elements of the David and

Goliath fresco, track the precedent of this image in Christian writings, and note its occurrence

beside an anointing niche. It is quite another to focus on what Isseos would have been doing at

this juncture of his baptism; a juncture that would have involved his pausing, being anointed with

oil, and interacting with the presence of the anointer (another member of the Christian

92 The later Odes of Solomon is one example of a text that describes a “womb” frequently, but it is in the context of the Annunciation, rather than in the context of baptism. (See: Anon., Odes of Solomon, Trans. James H. Charlesworth, in Gnostic Scriptures and Fragments: The Gnostic Society Library.1977. Archived 2013. http://gnosis.org/library/odes.htm) 93 Peppard, The World’s Oldest Church, 176. 94 Ephrem the Syrian. Hymns, trans. Kathleen E, McVey. Preface by John Meyendorff, (New Jersey: Paulist Press, 1989), 354. This imagery will be addressed in more detail in Chapter 5. 28 community). Peppard’s analysis is in line with the first style of examination; it focuses on art and art viewing, rather than ritual behaviour, or the role of active, communal participation in the creation of Christian identity.

Concluding Remarks and Further Venues for Research:

The previous review of scholarship shows that Dura has been addressed first as a site of

Christian art, and only from there, as a site of Christian ritual. Ritual, and the relationship between ritual place, the ritualized body, and Christian identity, has been discussed far less frequently, and in far less detail. As apparent from this literature review, the Durene house church has been analyzed and explored by architects, archeologists, art historians and religious scholars. Recent scholarship has begun to examine the Durene baptistery as a place for Christian initiation, but the ritual initiation itself has been problematically contextualized. Eastern

Christianity, of which early Syriac Christianity was only one of many forms, is often addressed in light of its difference and “otherness” to a perceived Western Orthodoxy. Scholars have struggled to find a balance between preserving the uniqueness of Durene Christianity without

“tipping the scales,” and considering it antagonistically opposed to Western Christianity. On the other hand, considering the Durene house church a sort of “Ur” site for Christian art and churches is equally problematic. In attempting to establish Dura-Europos as the parent “place” for all subsequent Christian churches, the particular needs, values, and identification of the

Durene community are obscured.

The previous literature review demonstrates that there are two major disciplines that centre Dura in the conversation. The building has been observed both from the perspective of art history, and within the discipline of archeology, and these conversations have rarely intersected.

Scholarship on Dura-Europos has rarely been interdisciplinary in method, with art historians focusing on art and Christian symbolism, and archeologists approaching the building remains in the context of the Roman East. Both obscured the ritualistic usage of the house, neglecting to consider the Baptistery (with its art and clear ritual function) as forming one ritual place within a larger, ritually-focused House Church. The art has therefore been examined in connection to textual evidence, rather than a close look at the materiality of the site. By the nature of the discipline, archeological examinations of Dura have more thoroughly approached the role of ritual and the idea of ritual space. However, even these approaches have also not thoroughly considered the role of a ritualized, mobile human body within the space. Without an embodied focus, it easy to lose sight of the connection between place, movement, ritual and identity.

This project will utilize new methods in order to restructure the Durene House Church. In order to do this, the place itself, the ritual movement that occurred within it, and the body performing the ritual movement, will be prioritized in the investigation. Instead of focusing on the art in isolation, I will consider the art as part of the materiality of Dura and Durene

Christianity. For this, I will examine the city of Dura-Europos, and the buildings associated with its religious communities. I will also consider the Durene Christians as one Durene community who built a specific place for their specific initiation ritual of baptism. From there, I will analyze how an initiate would perform the baptism ritual, as a Durene citizen in a particularly constructed ritual place. The Durene house church will be studied, as Peppard proposed in his book, as a place where Christians became Christians. The following chapter will describe the methods I will privilege in order to best achieve this focus. I will analyze the House Church through interdisciplinary methods, as a holistic investigation of the building brings place, ritual, and

30 identity into central focus. The Durene house church’s role as a place in which to explore and negotiate the connections between these key concepts is an exciting possibility to consider.

CHAPTER 2: New Theories and Methodologies

Preamble:

The primary subject of investigation in this project is the Durene baptism ritual. I have chosen to distance my analysis from art history because ritual, rather than art, is my prioritized focus. As discussed in the previous chapter, the Durene Baptistery has been claimed, primarily, by the discipline of art history and art criticism. These methods prioritize the imagery of the

Baptistery, rather than the ritual use of space; they also obscure the body that encounters and experiences this imagery through ritual. Archeological approaches to the House Church have only begun to investigate the ritual usage of the area; again, the body itself has not been a primary subject of investigation. These methods have maintained an implicit bifurcation between thought and action, where the “beliefs,” expressed symbolically, precede any ritual examination.

This trajectory implies that belief ontologically precedes ritual; thought, consequently, precedes and governs action. There has been a move in ritual studies to collapse this bifurcation between

“thought” and “action” and consider them as intimately connected concepts. Ritual’s own role in guiding and creating religious beliefs has tentatively begun to be explored. There has, however, been little application of method to the case of Durene baptism.

Ritual Theory:

Catherine Bell’s ritual theory strongly subverts this bifurcation between thought and action. Her book, Ritual Theory, Ritual Practice reframes ritual theory in terms of both actors and thinkers.95 In order to comment on how Christian identity was created through the specific

95 Bell, Ritual Theory, Ritual Practice, (New York and London: Oxford University Press, 1992), 45-50. 32 act of “baptism,” I will be adopting Bell’s approach and assumptions about ritual practice, ritualization, and the ritual body.

Bell establishes ritual, fundamentally, as something that is practiced, rather than something that is known. She relies on the Marxist description of “praxis” as both descriptive and prescriptive.96 Bell does not so much construct a solidified model of ritual as she describes the practice as varying strategies through which ritualized acts inscribe and deconstruct cultural logic.97 This practice relies on features that are situational and strategic, as well as reliant on misrecognition and redemptive hegemony. Situational ritual activity is essentially specified action- the action would not be a “ritual” if it were taken outside of its prescribed context.98 The catechesis stage of Durene Christianity is ritualized through its contextual association with prescriptive baptism rituals. Training and education are not, in and of themselves, ritualized acts; when they are associated with ritual context, however, they are mobilized to guide ritualized behaviour. The catechesis stage is thus situationally associated with the shift in identity that accompanies Christian initiation. Strategic features of ritual are those that conform to the logic of practice, a “play of situationally effective schemes, tactics and strategies.”99 I will note and analyze the movement throughout the space in greater detail in Chapter 4, but the Durene baptismal ceremony uses place to strategically prescribe movements into and out of a community. For example, there is strategic access into certain areas of the House Church, areas that can only be entered by catechumens during prescribed parts of their initiation ceremony. The

96 Bell, Ritual Theory, Ritual Practice, 75. 97 Bell, Ritual Theory, Ritual Practice, 80-81. 98 Bell, Ritual Theory, Ritual Practice, 80. 99 Bell, Ritual Theory, Ritual Practice, 81. 33 place was designed to limit the movements of the catechumens; this is part of a tactic that reinforces the different stages within Christian identity formation.

Ritual further depends on what Bell terms “misrecognition.” The practice may allow for both the prescribed intention of the action, and also the participant’s misrecognition of the action.

Working from a theory of misrecognition based in Derrida’s aporia and Bourdieu’s analysis of gift-exchange, Bell notes that:

Misrecognition is what "enables the gift or counter-gift to be seen and experienced as an inaugural act of generosity. What is experienced in gift-giving is the voluntary, irreversible, delayed, and strategic play of gift and counter-gift; it is the experience of these dimensions that actually establishes the value of the objects.100

This misrecognition is deliberate, transparent to degrees, and an integral part of ritual practice. In the Durene case study, a fresco of Peter is seen during the baptismal processional as the catechumen walks along the North Wall. The catechumen may identify the figure of Peter being saved through his faith. They will realize that their own faith will allow them entrance into the baptismal font, where they too will be saved by accepting Christ. The fresco depicts a narrative representation of Christian faith, but it also serves to codify the catechumen’s previous understanding of faith. The ritual viewing of these teachings instills, through the misrecognition, a piece of the mythic worldview of Christianity. Peter is simultaneously viewed as Christian teaching, and an integral marker of Christian worldview. The ritual allows for Peter to be associated as a Christian, but also with the concepts of “faith” that is misrecognized as external to the narrative scene itself; instead of being only read as embedded in the Peter scene, faith, through the ritual experience of the narrative, becomes externalized as a fundamental component of Christian worldview and self-identification.

100 Bell, Ritual Theory, Ritual Practice, 82. 34

The final facet of practice that Bell analyzes is the idea of redemptive hegemony, which cannot be read as “an explicit ideology or…bounded doxa that defines a culture’s sense of reality.”101 Instead, Bell classifies redemptive hegemony as a “practical orientation for acting… one that is embedded in the act itself.”102 To use Bell’s language the ritual practice does not reflect reality or belief; it instead creates it. To reconstruct the ritual act requires analyzing the

“assumptions that constitute the actor’s strategic understanding of place, purpose and the trajectory of the act.”103 In other words, the ritual practice constructs a view of reality that the ritual practitioner is expected to adopt. In the case of Durene Christian baptism, this hegemony outlines the features of the new Christian identity. The healing and protection, communicated in the Baptistery’s symbolism, become real, practiced features of Christian identity.

Bell’s theorizing about ritual is, fundamentally, a functionalist understanding of the category.104 Integral to this “functioning” is the creation of a ritual body; Bell terms this the implicit end of practical ritualization. She emphasizes an active definition of ritual, as a particular set of actions, defined as separate and contrasted to other social activities. Likewise, this view suggests that the significance of ritual behaviour lies not in being an entirely separate way of acting, but in how such activities constitute themselves as different and in contrast to other activities. Even in theoretical analysis, ritual should not be analyzed by being lifted out of the context formed by other ways of acting in a cultural situation. Acting “ritually” is first and foremost a matter of nuanced contrasts and the evocation of strategic, value-laden distinctions.105

101 Bell, Ritual Theory, Ritual Practice, 85. 102 Bell, Ritual Theory, Ritual Practice, 85. 103 Bell, Ritual Theory, Ritual Practice, 85. 104 Bell, Ritual Theory, Ritual Practice, 8-10. 105 Bell, Ritual Theory, Ritual Practice, 90.

Applying Bourdieu’s understanding of habitus to ritual practice, Bell argues that the main goal of this sort of action is to create a ritualized, habituated body. It is produced “through the interaction between the body with a structured and structuring environment.”106 This body has the “sense” of ritual; it has embodied the hegemonic features that practice instills, and works to shape the social environment into which it emerges. However, Bell argues that this ritualization is a circular process; the structuring environment of ritual practice conditions the body, but it is equally true that body influences and conditions the ritual environment. The connection between the ritual practice and the ritual causes a person to deliberately misrecognize that their values and experiences come from a place beyond themselves and their ritual activity.107 Drawing on

Bourdieu’s idea of practical mastery to develop the idea of ritual mastery,108 Bell argues that ritual is not static, but embodied in specific contexts through work. She notes that:

what ritualization does is actually quite simple: it temporarily structures a space-time environment through a series of physical movements (using schemes described earlier), thereby producing an arena which, by its moulding of the actors, both validates and extends the schemes they are internalizing. Indeed, in seeing itself as responding to an environment, ritualization interprets its own schemes as impressed upon the actors from a more authoritative source, usually from well beyond the immediate human community itself.109

The social body, after ritualization, “generate(s) in turn strategic schemes that can appropriate or dominate other sociocultural situations.”110 These schemes are cyclical because a ritualized body will apply the ritualized schema to the non-ritualized parts of their life, making their life more coherent and consistent with the ritual structure. This “ritualized” structure becomes the correct, or normative way of acting. In the case of Dura, the ritualized body of the

106 Bell, Ritual Theory, Ritual Practice, 89. 107 Bell, Ritual Theory, Ritual Practice, 100. 108 Bell, Ritual Theory, Ritual Practice, 107. 109 Bell, Ritual Theory, Ritual Practice, 109-110. 110 Bell, Ritual Theory, Ritual Practice, 98-99. 36 initiated catechumens comes to influence their role within and impact on the newly-joined

Christian community. The body acquired in the ritual process is socially “correct;” the resultant identity associated with this ritualized body is similarly correct. The ritualized person, in this instance, acts, in their day-to-day life as a “Christian,” even though their day-to-day actions are not performed in the same ritual structure. Bell categorizes “ritual” as centrally concerned with this functional activity- the ritualization of a body into a “ritual body” which is “correct” for a particular society.

Bell is careful to emphasize how ritual activity is not a “separate way” of acting. The same bodily processes involved in acting out day-to-day movements are involved with and engaged in the ritual experience. Once the habituated, ritualized body re-enters society, it begins to influence a community. Quoting Mary Douglas, Bell makes explicit the fact that ritual makes possible a “juxtaposition of two bodies, a social body and a physical body.”111 The continuous exchange of symbolism, attitudes, and meanings between these two bodies creates and sustains a communal view of society.” This theory is particularly powerful when discussing a developing community in the process of defining its identity.112 Bell’s understanding of a “ritual body” works especially well in the discussion of initiation rituals, such as baptism. She states that ritualization is a result of physical movements that spatially and temporally construct a specific environment.113 Instead of merely reflecting the attitudes and values of social body, the bodily created ritual environment is internalized within a ritualized body; the ritualized person then comes to inscribe the order of this environment in their society.114

111 Bell, Ritual Theory, Ritual Practice, 175. 112 Of which Dura is certainly an example. 113 Bell, Ritual Theory, Ritual Practice, 99. 114 Bell, Ritual Theory, Ritual Practice, 100. 37

Bell’s analysis begins to discuss how emergent groups are affected by rituals. She cites numerous anthropological theorists who have been instrumental in “flipping the script.” The bifurcation between thought and action, and the academic prioritization of thought over action has resulted in the understanding that traditions form because of a society’s beliefs. Instead, rituals (i.e. action) are actually more powerful in constructing social traditions and their ever- linked area of communal identity. This shift ensures an ever-present need to be judicious when linking emergent groups to later theologies and doctrines, as these doctrines imply an established body of beliefs. Bell challenges the ideas of anthropologists Roy Rappoport and Valerio Valeri, who situate ritual in the perpetuation of fixed, or “canonical” materials. These works predate the thorough study of ritual as a distinct category within religious studies, and they define ritual performance as “fixed.”115 Bell paraphrases this anthropological understanding of ritual in the following way, quoting from Valeri’s Kingship and Sacrifice: Ritual and Society in Ancient

Hawaii:

Any ritual performance must be seen as based on and legitimized by the superior authority of this very fixity. In oral societies the audience acts as guardians of this superior authority, holding the power to judge a ritual performance and validate its relation to the past and the present. If the ritual had no fixed text, if it were not law, then authority could not be acquired or denied by virtue of the performance of ritual.116

Though both Rappaport and Valeri reject the idea that “pre-literate” societies would use ritual in lieu of texts to inscribe laws, they nevertheless describe ritual as “in service of tradition.”117 The relationship described in this sort of ritual analysis is the unilateral relationship between belief and a corresponding activity that reflects that belief. Though one would think of

115 Bell, Ritual Theory, Ritual Practice, 118. 116 Bell, Ritual Theory, Ritual Practice, 120. 117 Bell, Ritual Theory, Ritual Practice, 119. 38 the mobile human body as an agent of ritual actions, this unilateral relationship between “fixed” belief and corresponding ritual erases the body’s active role in ritual construction and religiosity.

Bell further dislocates ritual from established tradition by relying on the work of Frits

Staal and Eric Hobsbawm. Both scholars describe ritual as having the potential to construct tradition, rather than merely enforcing and encoding previously established “traditions.” This model allows for individual ritual performance to aid in establishing communal identity. It has the capacity to enforce rigid “morals” through the means of flexible, and personally empowering, authority; rituals, having an active, spontaneous component, allow for a more dynamic negotiation of social values than legislature or liturgical texts.118 Frits Staal argues that the true meaning of ritual resides in the act itself, and the act functions in a way that “generates a shared consensus… of a set of distinctions that differentiates this group from other groups.”119 If this differentiating process is the content and definition of the ritual act, then ritual cannot merely be defined as the acting out of established tradition. Though many scholars have assumed that ritual meaning only exists within the ritual system120 (whether in language or object used), Staal notes that these choices, even if “arbitrary,” function to differentiate one group from another. It is this very arbitrary distinctiveness that establishes ritually-centric traditions.121 Staal’s contemporary,

Hobsbawm, applies this theorem to the creation of the ritualistic behaviour that essentially created “Americanism.” Due to a constant influx of immigrants, American-ness had to be created, ritualistically, by distinction from Un-American-ness. Hobsbawn concludes that

118 Bell, Ritual Theory, Ritual Practice, 118-119. 119 Bell, Ritual Theory, Ritual Practice, 118-119. 120 For further information, please see: Jonathan Z. Smith, To Take Place: Toward Theory in Ritual (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992), 110-112. 121 Bell, Ritual Theory, Ritual Practice, 119.

39 traditions “are most effectively invented by appropriating elements that are already closely associated with collective images of the past and the values at stake.”122

In the case of a highly-symbolic ritual matrix, which is experienced in the Durene

Baptistery, Bell discusses how ritual can function as “a wrest(ing) of set images from the… past of another group… (where ritual) becomes an arena for struggles amongst a group to carve out their own identities via shared symbols…”123 In the case of Durene baptism, symbols embedded within the programmatic art exist as identity markers that are experienced, performed, and instilled through ritual action.

If there is a criticism of Bell’s theory, it is that she over-relies on a competitive, hierarchal relationship between ritual actors and their ritual action. In doing so, she occasionally reinforces the same thought/action dichotomy that her theory seeks to challenge. Bell’s analysis can occasionally treat the body as having values inscribed upon it via the ritual structure. The impression is that despite the reciprocal relationship between ritual performer and ritual structure, the body is essentially policed through the Foucauldian sense of social control. With that perspective, there are limits to the agency of individuals within ritual space, which in turn elevates the abstracted values inherent in “tradition” over the collaborative relationship between body and the physical presence of the ritual structure.

Any form of mind/body dichotomy is not an accurate representation of the ancient ritual experience because the ancient world did not starkly differentiate mental processes from physical ones. Though Bell is correct in identifying the connection between ritual and identity, ritual cannot be understood as conditioning a singular, “blank canvas” individual. The ritual performer,

122 Bell, Ritual Theory, Ritual Practice, 121. 123 Bell, Ritual Theory, Ritual Practice, 120. 40

particularly in the ancient world, does not exist without a deeply ingrained sense of “collective

identity,” which complicates the ritualization. It can be useful to draw on Bruce Malina’s dyadic

concept of identity here, as he proposed that no marked delineation may be made between the

collective “self" and the individual personality in the ancient world.124 This individual body,

especially in an ancient context, would consciously be part of a collective experience of identity.

This makes any transformation of identity more nuanced, involving a negotiation between

individual self, collective self, and the desired tropes, values and myths acquired through the

ritual act and structure.

Any ritual structure is a necessarily physical part of the ritual process. These physical

elements of the structure, whether they are ritual setting, place or physical elements (wine, food,

icons, etc.), are perceived and interpreted through the sensual experience of ritual movement.

The inscribed values condition a mind as it performs ritual activities, but the minutiae that

accompanies the ritual activities that inscribe these values also plays a role in the conditioning

process. As a body progresses through ritual space, and physically responds to ritual space, a

mind simultaneously considers the physical and abstracted symbology of the arena. Bell’s

treatment of sacred space in ritual performance works off of the example of Jonathan Z. Smith,

acknowledging the importance of a particular space for ritual dynamism. However, Bell’s “ritual

structure” is often discussed as relatively empty container space. This does not correspond to the

ornate, busy Durene Baptistery, which clearly accommodated (or necessitated) multiple

participants, and was filled with art, wall niches, oil jars, and other ritual aids.125 Bell does not

124 Bruce Malina. J, The New Testament World: Insights from Cultural Anthropology (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2001), 62. 125 The archeological reports that Kraeling interprets note the presence of benches in the baptistery. These benches suggest participants or “witnesses” to the ritual in addition to the initiates, the bishop, and the deacons who would assist in disrobing and anointing the initiates. Multiple baptismal participants is also consistent with primary ritual texts, such as The Didascalia Apostolarum. See Kraeling, The Christian Building, 31-37. 41 fully consider the interactive role of place in determining and constructing the ritual action itself.

Bell’s treatment of place is relatively static, acknowledging an interaction between performative body and place, but failing to comment on how the body is conditioned by its physical interaction with place. Put simply, the place (the Baptistery) is reduced to a vessel for the ritual initiate. Bell does not comment on the geographic and localized conditioning of ritual, which obscures a major part of individual and communal religious identity.

Ignoring the material conditions of the space, and these multiple bodies, greatly changes the immediate social element of the initiation ritual. In order to fully consider "embodiment" at

Dura Europos, it is short-sighted to ignore the interaction between multiple bodies, which appears to be a reality within the Durene Baptistery. This thesis argues that this “ritual structure” takes a very physical form in the Durene example, given the physical and material concerns of the House Church.

Other, more recent ritually-focused theories have emerged out of performance studies, and these address ritual in a significantly more holistic way. When ritual is approached as a performance, the scholar is able to think beyond the dichotomized binary between “thought” and

“action.” A performance requires a body that performs, first and foremost, as Bell has expressed.

However, a performance also typically involves multiple bodies, playing against each other in ways that are both prescribed and spontaneous/reactive. A performance requires a specific setting, one that conditions and limits what type of form the performance can take. Finally, a performance involves the use of props, or aids, in order to communicate key issues of the overall event. In short, all of these elements are what makes a performance a “performance.” If one considers ritual to be a performance, its performers, the interplay between the performers, the setting of the action, and the props required to fulfill the action also need to be considered.

Ronald Grimes has been integral in bringing this performative element to the forefront of ritual

studies. He advocates for the study of performance as a heuristic device that allows for a more

thorough analysis of ritual.

Performance Theory:

Grimes’ ritual theory locates three major features of ritual-as-a-performance. Ritual,

according to Grimes, is kinesthetic, sensual, and involves multiple agents. There are limits to the

degree that these features may be examined in isolation of each other. Ritual movement creates

sensations through the mobile interplay of agents, and the agents in turn, performing ritual

movement, experience an effect of sensations. It is the cumulative effect of mobility, sensuality,

and bodily participation that makes ritual so effective, and so ingrained in a performer’s identity.

These elements are all the more heightened in an infrequent initiation ceremony, such as Durene

Baptism, both for importance of the rite to the community, and for the imagistic (to be discussed

later) impact of its key elements.

Ritual is kinesthetic, meaning it essentially involves mobile bodies, and the movement of

these bodies throughout space and time. Whereas Bell deeply considered ritual as an embodied

phenomenon, Grimes examines it as a series of bodily activities. Ritual is constructed, in

Grimes’ work, through the complex set of relationships between the bodies of the performers,

and the materials they encounter and engage with as they move.126 His analysis maintains the

embodied perspective of Bell, and puts the body directly in contact with the materiality

encountered in a ritual space. In performing the ritual, the body is not conditioned in a vacuum-

126 Ronald L. Grimes, Rite out of Place: Ritual, Media, and the Arts (Oxford/New York: Oxford University Press, 2006), 110.

43 nor is it “acted upon,” or simply subjected to the meanings inherent in ritual.127 Instead, it physically moves, accommodates, and encounters elements of the ritual matrix. Like Bell,

Grimes picks up on Smith’s theory of ritual as a “mode of paying attention.”128 Grimes both agrees and disagrees with this theory as ritual; he is both interested in the connection between

“attention” (in the cognitive sense) and “reflection” in ritual.129 Grimes states his aims clearly in

Chapter 8 of Rite Out of Place, an examination of the ritualism inherent in a theatre troupe’s preparation work. He claims that he hopes to reinvigorate Smithian-style ritual theory by introducing an action-based model, rather than one that locates a central “element” of ritual.130

Grimes takes a sequential approach to ritual. His theory situates ritual in a series of bodily activities, making it fundamentally a mobile, kinesthetic practice.

The kinesthetic approach to ritual is grounded in human movement and the effects that are created through human movement. When considering ritual movement, one contemplates the interplay of other mobile bodies, and the limits of space and time on this interplay. Grimes also engages with Bourdieu’s idea of habitus when considering the role of kinesthetic movement in rituals. Bourdieu describes human ritual movement as a habit performed without reflection or a clear sense of intentionality; this becomes part of a habitus category of mobility.131 However,

Grimes suggests that a habitus is never fully achieved in ritual performance, existing in an analogous way to Bell’s “ritualization.”132 Ritualization is never fully “complete,” but instead is

127 Grimes, Rite out of Place: Ritual, Media, and the Arts, 110-112. 128 Grimes, Rite out of Place: Ritual, Media, and the Arts, 110. 129 Grimes, Rite out of Place: Ritual, Media, and the Arts, 107. 130 Grimes, Rite out of Place: Ritual, Media, and the Arts, 109. 131 Ronald L. Grimes, The Craft of Ritual Studies (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014), 249. 132 Grimes, The Craft of Ritual Studies, 248.

subject to conscious reflection, and spontaneous redefinition.133 Ritual habituation involves the

memorization and standardization of movements, but these movements are never fully codified

into unconscious habitus.134 Individual agency, as well as communal agreement, plays a role in

determining each instance of ritual action. In doing this, their affirming-rebuilding-reaffirming

process is both critical and instinctive. Grimes’ understanding of active, conscious mobility is

especially important when timing is considered in rituals. A ritual is rarely standardized in terms

of the time it takes to perform it. Participants have agency over the pauses in their speech, the

speed of the movements, and the length of their “rests” between movements. Graffiti within the

Durene Baptistery suggests that precise, automatic timing of ritual movement was not enforced.

After all, it takes time to scratch one’s name into the plaster frescoes, an act performed by one

unknown “Hera”135 above the head of the first processional woman on the western wall.136 As

Hera inscribes her identity onto the site, she both critically asserts/changes/negotiates the ritual,

while moving through it. If someone is moving only as part of a formalized habit, then that

person is not a self-conscious participant or performer. Grimes’ argues that this “self-

consciousness” is a major attribute of ritual actors. They are not mere vessels for ritual tradition,

but rather performers in a dynamic process of identity-affirmation.137 The complex relationship

between mobility and perception is negotiated by the ritual actors, making them agents of ritual

transformation.

Sensuality is another major component of Grimes’ ritual-as-performance analysis. The

mobility and bodily interaction between ritual performers result in a constant sensual

133 Grimes, The Craft of Ritual Studies, 248. 134 Grimes, The Craft of Ritual Studies, 249. 135 Hera will be referred to frequently in the project. Her name will be Latinized for clarity, due to frequency of use. It appears as an inscription in the Durene North Wall- in Greek characters- as ΗΕΡΑ. 136 Kraeling, The Excavations at Dura-Europos, 95. 137 Grimes, Rite out of Place: Ritual, Media, and the Arts, 68. 45

engagement. Grimes, even more so than Bell, discusses the sensual impact of the total ritual. He

also begins to identify how ritual transformation may be conditioned by the materiality of the

ritual setting. His Deeply Into the Bone outlines affect theory, which addresses how ritual

engages and effects a vast majority of human senses.138 The result of this sensual engagement is

a profound transformation of the participant’s conception of identity and place in a community.

Affect theory considers the sights, sounds, smells, and sensations of the ritual

performance, and considers how these various stimuli overwhelm and engage the participant.139

In order for a ritual to enact a “change” in the participant, their senses must be simultaneously

engaged.140 When affect theory is applied to Durene baptism, it becomes apparent that both the

art and the building’s construction simultaneously influence the initiate. The interaction between

the participant and the site, particularly during the baptismal initiation, stimulates various sensual

processes. Ritual, in other words, has a real, transformative effect on human psychology. The

various stimuli that result from ritual performance therefore incur physical, verifiable effects.

Inherent in discussions around kinesthetic movement and sensuality are the roles of ritual

agents. Continuing to rely on theatrical performance as a heuristic device, Grimes describes the

ritual agents as the “roles” that must be cast in order for the ritual to be conducted in

recognizable form.141 These agents include the direct “lead” of the ritual, of course, but they also

138 Ronald Grimes Re-Inventing Rites of Passage.(California: University of California Press Online, 2000), 45-50. 139 Affect theory’s definition is tenuous. However, it is attributed to Silvan Tomkins, who theorized that affects (for our purposes “emotions”) had corresponding, observable physical responses. Tomkins’ categories of affects and their corresponding responses related to a conditioning of physical behaviours when certain emotions are triggered during ritual. It will be treated in this thesis as a theory of cognition which takes into account the lasting identity transformation that occurs when many human senses are simultaneously and overwhelmingly stimulated, affecting a changed conception of state. For further information, please see: Silvan S. Tomkins, Affect Imagery Consciousness: Anger and Fear (Vol. 3), (New York: Springer, 1991), 5-7. 140 Tomkins, Affect Imagery Consciousness, 7. 141 Grimes, Craft of Ritual Studies, 245.

46 include the people that surround the lead.142 In the case of initiation, it is tempting to think of ritual action being undertaken by the initiate and the initiate alone. However, Dura’s materiality suggests that this is not the case. There must also be an agent who acknowledges and facilitates the climatic initiation moment- in this case, baptism. The nature of the rite itself requires a baptizer; in this case, the Bishop of the community would theoretically be engaged to do this.143

Less obvious are the people who witness the event.144 The Durene Baptistery contains a benched

Eastern wall, with room for a few people to sit; its positioning would give the “benched” witnesses an intimate view of the baptismal procession at hand.145 According to Grimes, all these agents need to be considered as “performers” in the ritual. It is the multi-person participation that makes a ritual affective as a communal event. Though the performance may be practiced and

“staged” according to certain guidelines, every performative event requires the flexibility and interactions between actors.146 Grimes’ perspective is especially illuminating when one considers the active and passive role each member of the community adopted within the baptistery. Even those with a relatively passive role in the ceremony create, by their mere presence, a different affect that informs the identity of the community. By considering the participants in Dura “ritual players,” we understand how the baptism ritual (rather than merely occurring once) continuously informs “Christian” identity in the community, even after individual initiation has occurred. The light shed on the continuous assertion of identity is a necessary corrective to “conversion mentality,” where one identity is merely exchanged for a new one. Grimes’ treatment of ritual as

142 Grimes, Craft of Ritual Studies, 245. 143 Bradshaw, Early Christian Worship, 18. 144 Further discussion of these ritual agents will be conducted in the 4th and 5th chapters. 145 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura Europos, 132. 146 Grimes, The Craft of Ritual Studies, 194.

“performance” allows a more comprehensive analysis of the active work involved in establishing a social identity through action and experience.147 Grimes warns against thinking of ritual action as the necessary binary against “non-ritual” (or “non-specialized”) action. Instead he argues that ritual action is prescribed action that is “enacted,” or subject to the necessary social interaction of performers.148

Art Interpretation and Cognitive Science of Religion:

The performative approach that Grimes uses has some direct application to the discipline of art viewing. Historians with a focus on art have shifted away from straight art-viewing, choosing instead to focus on the relationship between the art viewer and the artistic materiality at hand. In the context of a ritual performance, this interactive relationship is another important part of the program. The work of Wharton and Elsner both augment Grimes’ performative approach to ritual studies, despite being firmly situated in art history and art interpretation. Wharton advocates for a haptic reading of the Durene frescoes, a consideration of what is being felt, and what is being embodied as the art is seen. For example, the relationship between ritual movement and the fresco of David and Goliath is defined by what the body is doing as the piece of art is seen. In this case, the body is experiencing an anointing; the meaning of the fresco, and its affective power, emerges from the body receiving the “act” that it is visually implied by the fresco.149 This perspective is described within art-criticism as “haptic/acting” visuality, and it benefits from additional nuance through ritual studies.150 Wharton, for example, considers how

147 Grimes, The Craft of Ritual Studies. 195. 148 Grimes, The Craft of Ritual Studies. 196 149 Wharton, Reconfiguring the Post Classical City, 149. 150 Wharton, Reconfiguring the Post Classical City, 33.

the anointing of the initiate constitutes a “direct mapping of the ritual landscape” onto the naked

initiate, and concludes that this anointing prevents the bishop from retaining a visualized

difference from the initiate.151 The “sight of the bishop” is replaced by the “feel of the oil” as the

central focal point of the ritual.152 Wharton’s analysis of the interaction between the body and

art, as mitigated through ritual, demonstrates a shift away from traditional art interpretation.

However, she continues to obscure the continued participation of the body as it moves

throughout space. Wharton describes the Durene baptistery as a distinct “spatialization of

authority” that negates a bishop’s authority in light of “evolving social importance of the

ascetic.”153 Wharton comments that, in the distinction between the haptic “feeling” of oil-

rubbing, and the optic “seeing” of a bishop performing a brief touch, the difference between

“acting and witnessing” is preserved. Wharton notes that this “erasure of the ritual

act…(dislocates the) episcopal jurisdiction.”154 She argues that this part of the ritual might be

used to explain the tendency towards asceticism seen in later Syriac Christianity.155 I take issue

with Wharton’s overall interpretation of the ritual, but not with a haptic approach to art-

interpretation. One must be careful not to reduce even these “haptic” readings to a singular

response which does not consider on the complexity of emotional response to stimuli. As an art

historian, Wharton’s “haptic” understanding of the artistic experience is necessarily centred on

“sight”- the Bishop is either seen, or, “unseen.” Wharton primarily discusses the sight-line an

initiate would have of the bishop, rather than the connections between visuality, the sight of art,

151 Wharton, Reconfiguring the Post Classical City, 149. 152 Wharton, Reconfiguring the Post Classical City, 149. 153 Wharton, Reconfiguring the Post Classical City, 152. 154 Wharton, Reconfiguring the Post Classical City, 149. 155 Wharton, Reconfiguring the Post Classical City, 152. I disagree with these interpretations of the ritual effects, as there is nothing to suggest that the Durene Christians shared any of the later Syriac tendencies towards asceticism. 49

and the different experience of touch. The Bishop’s presence throughout the ritual would have

effects on the initiates’ overall experience.

Further to this approach, the very act of “seeing art” in such a context may be treated as

“ritual centred visuality,” a term used by Elsner. Elsner describes the ritualistic function of art,

and the impact this function has on identity, in his book Roman Eyes. According to Elsner,

Romans interpret art through a sense of visuality informed, primarily, by public rituals. He

describes processionals as a major component of this ritualism. It is a term largely employed by

Elsner in his studies of Classical art, performance, and its reception. In “Cultural Resistance and

the Visual Image: The Case of Dura Europos” Elsner argues that:

ritual-centred visuality may be defined in many ways—as the putting aside of the normal identity and the acquisition of a temporary cult-generated identity, or as the surrendering of individuality to a more collective form of subjectivity constructed and controlled by the sacred site… It constructs a ritual barrier to the identification and objectification of a screen of discourse.156

Elsner’s identification of such contextualized “Roman eyes” speaks to the Roman context

of the Durene Christians. It also begins to explain their particular conditioning as ritual agents

and art viewers. For example, Roman religious festivities often included a large procession

throughout the city. Durene art has a high frequency of “processional” mosaics and frescoes, in

both domestic and ritual spaces. Examples of Durene processional art include the Christian

Lower Register frescoes, the Mithraeum wall frescoes, and patterns on floor mosaics, which

widely portray processing figures.157 These examples occur in venues where full, participatory

processionals are not possible, namely small domestic settings. These depictions suggest that the

art was meant to be stand for, in some way, a similar type pageant. The shrines in Dura, which

156 Jas Elsner, “Cultural Resistance and the Visual Image: The Case of Dura Europos,” Classical Philology 96, no. 3 (Jul 2001), 310-311, http://www.jstor.org/stable/1215434. 157 Brody and Hoffman, Dura-Europos: Crossroads to Antiquity, xxiii. 50 are addressed in the next chapter, are quite enclosed, and seem quite private. However, the inclusion of sequential, processional art brings in a sense of pageantry to the setting, one easily communicated to the viewer’s “Roman eyes.” Core elements of Roman ritualism are therefore imminent, even if the setting- a secretive, isolated place- seems to be contradictory. Instead, the

Baptistery artistic sequence is a re-appropriation of Roman ritualism in a Christian context. The

Roman connotations of Dura’s processional art should not be overlooked in Christian interpretations.

These ritually-centric approaches to performance and art-viewing may be further augmented through Cognitive Science of Religions, herein referred to as CSR. Though this is a relatively new discipline and it has only tentatively been applied to ancient communities, it has been successfully incorporated into New Testament/ancient religions scholarship by Ristro Uro,

István Czachesz and Roger Beck. In particular, the framework of CSR relies on the Integrated

Causal Model, which is outlined by Roger Beck.158 Briefly summarized, this model stipulates that

content-specific information processing mechanisms generate some peculiarities of culture, which, when transmitted and adapted through the psychological processing of a mind in a specific culture, exposed to the content, sets up historical/ epidemiological population-level processes.159

The model is premised on the idea that ingrained cognitive processes are responsible for creating what we think of as “cultural content,” or standard imagery. In other words, humans have cognitive agency over the content they are exposed to, which in turn works to create “culture.”

158 Roger Beck, The Religion of the Mithras Cult in the Roman Empire: Mysteries of the Unconquered Sun. (Oxford Scholarship Online: 2010), 91, http://www.oxfordscholarship.com.ezproxy.lib.ucalgary.ca/view/10.1093/acprof:oso/978019921 6130.001.0001/acprof-9780199216130. 159 Beck, The Religion of the Mithras Cult in the Roman Empire, 92.

This cognitive-privileging approach reverses the perspective onto the initiate’s apprehension of

ritual initiation and symbology.160 If they encounter art and imagery in a ritual space, their own

cognition primarily guides their interpretation of the images. In the moment of ritual, they are not

(solely) adhering to cultural values or religious doctrines; instead, these later develop due to the

initiate’s own cognitive reaction to these images. This bolsters Bell’s theory that ritual creates

tradition, rather than merely reflects it. Cognitive science of religion also addresses the concept

of ritual efficacy in early Christian identity formation; it is a method that engages the scholar in

the examination of the ritual itself as the locus of initiation and identity creation.

I specifically draw from three major components of CSR, applying them to the physical

ritual at Dura, and assessing their impact on identity-creation. These three elements are as

follows: 1) minimal counter-intuitiveness; 2) agent ritualism, and 3) joint attention.

Minimal counter-intuitiveness is one of István Czachesz’s core principles for ritual

efficacy. He argues that ideas that are only minimally counterintuitive are the most effectively

transmitted and memorized.161 A ritual relying on such minimally counterintuitive ideas will

have the deepest cognitive impact on a practitioner, as the ideas instilled are more easily recalled

after the ritual's completion. An idea that is completely counterintuitive is not effectively recalled

after a ritual is complete; the information is deemed too challenging for interpretation, and is

instead discarded. However, an idea that is slightly counterintuitive is engaging and intriguing;

the exposed party is invited to reconcile the information with their core ontological beliefs. This

reconciliation is challenging (“counterintuitive”); but it is not impossible. There are many

depictions of miracles in the Durene Baptistery, and minimal counter-intuitiveness guides the

160 Beck, The Religion of the Mithras Cult in the Roman Empire, 92. 161 István Czachesz, “The Promise of the Cognitive Science of Religion for Biblical Studies,” CSSR Bulletin 37, no. 4 (2007), http:/www.religionandcognition.com/publications/czachesz_cssr.pdf. 52

interpretation of these miracles. Instead of privileging the most esoteric meaning of the miracle

frescoes, minimal counter-intuitiveness suggests that a more intuitive reading has most powerful

impact on the ritual, and in the developing identity of the initiate. In this case, interpretations of

the frescoes that rely on a synthesis between the earthly and the inexplicable are more ritually

powerful than those situated in apocalyptic or advanced Christian doctrines.

Agent ritualism, as described by Uro, also relates to minimal counter-intuitiveness. It

involves the introduction of a “special agent” (or, the performer of the ritual) who is regarded as

closer to God than any other communal participants or even the surroundings. Uro discusses how

"special agent” ritualism was an integral component of singularly occurring rituals, like Durene

baptism. This model “predicts that special agent rituals are often central in religious systems and

cannot be repeated, that elevated levels of sensory arousal become associated with special agent

rituals, and that a balanced ritual system includes rituals from both profiles (special agent rituals

and special patient/instrument rituals).”162 Dura’s artistic depictions, including a representation

of God towards the end of the chamber, as well as an iconic processional approaching Jesus,

seem concerned with bringing the performer in direct contact with God. The initiate also

encounters several such “special ritual agents” as they process through the space. However,

through the minimal counter-intuitiveness, the initiate is able to identify their human selves as a

similar type of ritual agent. The divine potency and significance of the baptismal rite is both

preserved and made identifiable, empowering the baptized participant and deepening their

engagement with the rite.

Joint attention is another principle that should be considered when art is viewed through

ritual. Contemporary psychology describes joint attention as a manner of experientially sharing

162 Risto Uro, Rituals and Christian Beginnings: A Socio-Cognitive Analysis, (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016), 232-233. 53

information between at least two people, with the result that one person leads the other in the

process of evaluating whatever is under the joint consideration of the participants. For example, a

person viewing art in a gallery with a friend must simultaneously consider their sight (their

reaction to the art) and the reaction of their friend. If the friend comments on the art, and the first

person hears the statement and agrees, the two people have participated in a “joint encoding of

information.”163 Coordinating attention on an object in parallel with another person is

“fundamental to social reference and social learning.”164 These social and learning relationships

require attention to the interests of others and the ability to discern “social signals that designate

interest in objects or events.”165 Joint attention in the case of the baptism ritual simply means that

the initiates experience and interpret the minutiae of the Christian place in conjecture with other

participants. The reaction of the initiate, being doused with oil by a deacon/deaconess, is

dependent on both their sight of the fresco in the space, and their sight and awareness of fresco

being directed (in part) by the deacon/deaconess. They are learning a particular Christian story

through the art; jointly, they are also learning to define their social role in conjecture with

another person who guides and assists their ritual experience. The dividing of attention, and the

“joining” of disparate pieces of information is integral for ritual efficacy of the experience.

Place Studies and Identity:

Place studies explores the connection between place, human habits, and individual/social

identity. It considers the intimate connection place has to a human body; a connection that

163 P. Mundy, L. Sullivan, and A. M. Mastergeorge, “A Parallel and Sistributed‐processing Model of Joint ttention, Social Cognition and Autism,” Autism Research, 2 (2009): 4. 164 Mundy et al, “A Parallel and Distributed-processing Model of Joint Attention,” 5-7. 165 Mundy et al, “A Parallel and Distributed-processing Model of Joint Attention,” 5-7.

54 necessitates place be considered as more than a mere container for action. The connection to place and human identity was originally explored in Heidegger’s existentialist theory of dasein.

Dasein loosely translates to “being in,” or being-in-the-world.166 It understands that human condition is materially conditioned by the physical confines of existence.167 Heidegger elevates place from its position as a “container” for human action, and instead states that the relationship between person and place is a continual condition of “dwelling.”168 To exist as a human, one must “be in and of the world.”169 Place studies expands upon this philosophical development, considering the degree to which human existence, and human identity is conditioned by place; conversely, place theorists also examine how places come to be created in accordance with the identities of their inhabitants.

Tim Cresswell describes a “placial turn” that has occurred in the social sciences.170

Succinctly put, scholars such as Jurgen Habermas consider humans fundamentally as “meaning- makers.”171 Integral in this “meaning-making” process is “place-making.” Humans imprint the spaces they inhabit with identifiable meaning; conversely, the spaces humans inhabit imprint certain habits and features onto people that become meaningful, and deeply connected to personal and social identity.172 If ritual is to have any influence on identity, an assumption ritual theorists generally hold, the place wherein the ritual occurs cannot be ignored.

Place studies considers the impact of material conditions on the performance of ritual.

The ritual, and the transformative effects of the initiation, would be intimately connected to the

166 Tim Cresswell, Place: An Introduction, 2nd edition, (Hoboken: Wiley Blackwell, 2015), 27. 167 Cresswell, Place: An Introduction, 8-9. 168 Cresswell, Place: An Introduction, 8-9. 169 Cresswell, Place: An Introduction, 8-9. 170 Cresswell, Place: An Introduction, 8-9. 171 Cresswell, Place: An Introduction, 8-9. 172 Cresswell, Place: An Introduction, 27. 55 places within which it occurs within. The Durene Baptistery and House Church must be examined, first and foremost, as important places. The Church was located in a specific place, with specific, identity-conditioning elements. This Durene identity is both cosmopolitan due to its location on trade routes and on the borders and the history of its transference between empires. It is also military due to its role as a Roman garrison. In terms of the Christian identity, civic place-identity must also be discussed. Furthermore, the specific materiality had profound implications on the body that moved through it. The Christian initiate, and inhabitant of Dura-

Europos, became, through ritual, the inhabitant of the place that worked to create their Durene

Christian identity. The relationship between early Christians and their important places has often been overlooked in early Christian scholarship.

Following the tradition of previous place studies scholars, this study will adopt John

Agnew’s ideas of location, locale and sense of place. For Agnew, “location” as a component in the theory, considers “space,” an idea integral to, but not analogous with, place. Location, to paraphrase Agnew, is the coordinates on a map, an orientation for a person in space.173 One typically does not derive meaning from “location,” but it affects the “locale,” which is very much involved in the construction of meaning.174 Location considers the geographic features that affect the physical concerns of place-making. In this context of this project, a place-centric discussion of Dura’s location includes Dura’s location as an oasis on routes from Persia,

Antioch, and Palmyra to the markets of Rome. A place-making discussion must also take into account the site’s close proximity to the well-traversed Tigris and Euphrates rivers; these rivers thoroughly condition life and day-to-day habits of participants, much in the same way as walls

173 John A. Agnew, Place and Politics: The Geographic Mediation of State and Society (New York: Routledge, 1987), 25. 174 Agnew, Place and Politics, 25. 56

and borders do. Locale, on the other hand, consists of the features of a place that promote

identification for its inhabitants. The locale of Dura takes into consideration its position on the

eastern reaches of the Roman Empire on the border with the Parthian Syrians. This locale is

responsible for both its cosmopolitan pluralism and its military focus. The specific in terms of

this cosmopolitan military identity emerges through an examination of the interaction of the

population and Dura’s materiality, locale and location.

The habitual conditioning of movement around a particular locale forms what David

Seamon and Christina Nordin characterize as a “place-ballet.”175 The place-ballet is a series of

regularly repeated bodily movements that are conditioned by the minutiae of place that the body

closely identifies with over time.176 The close identity between the body and place in this “place-

ballet” becomes, over time, a facet of the individual’s identity as an insider of the place. An

initiate’s movement throughout the Baptistery of Dura, though only occurring once, is analogous

to this meaningful relationship. The place-ballet, therefore, is a useful metaphor through which to

describe ritual’s power in creating insiders to a new community within a new, powerful place.

Syrian or Syriac? Primary and Secondary Sources:

The previous sections have outlined ritual theory and place studies as the main methods

used in this project. I have not included, as of yet, textual sources of analysis. The direct

materiality of the Christian House Church will essentially be my “primary source” for analysis. I

will be relying on my photographs of the Baptistery art taken at the Yale University Art Gallery,

175 David Seamon and Christina Nordin, “Marketplace as Place-Ballet: A Swedish Example,” in Landscape 24 (January 1980): 35–41 as quoted by Cresswell, Place: An Introduction, 63. 176 Seamon and Nordin, “Marketplace as Place-Ballet,” as quoted by Cresswell, Place: An Introduction, 64.

augmented with my own reconstruction of a participant performance as my primary evidence,

augmented with Kraeling's extensive write-up of the excavation reports.177 Because my analysis

revolves around this direct (or descriptive) material evidence, I have only chosen to review

Christian texts that speak to the material conditions of early Christian ritual. The reason for this

is the early dating of the Christian House Church at Dura. Built approximately in the 230s, and

out of commission by 256, the House Church predates the vast majority of Christian liturgical

writings. The archeological remains of the Christian house church and the city itself must be

authoritative when considering the Durenes; there simply isn’t any definitely “Durene Christian”

church document that has been uncovered to date. This is not to suggest that texts are not integral

to the study of early Christian baptism. I will argue instead certain texts, ones that have been

regularly cited in discussions about Dura's art and ritual themes, do not accurately represent the

expression of Christianity seen in the material culture.

There has been a renewed interest in studying “Syrian” Dura as an example of lived

Syriac Christianity; while the location of the site certainly benefits from thorough analysis, this

focus has caused many of the findings about the Durene Christians to be interpreted through a

lens of Syriac Christianity. However, this Syrian location does not necessarily similarly situate

the Durene Christians within a tradition of Syriac Christianity. This later school, connected so

closely by scholars with John Chrysostom and a tradition of asceticism, begins to develop

canonically in the latter part of the fourth century, well after Christianity's elevation to official

religion of Rome.178 The earliest Syriac-school liturgical texts, ones that give us some insight

177 I have also taken pictures of the Yale University Art Gallery’s reconstruction of the Durene Mithraeum, as well as relevant domestic artifacts recovered from the city. I will address these insofar as they indicate comparable elements of Durene civil and religious identities. 178 Bradshaw, Early Christian Worship, 14.

into how Syriac rituals were conducted, date to the writings of Ephrem, born fifty years after

Dura’s abandonment.179 Additionally, texts written in the Syriac language, and traced to Syrian

origins are not necessarily perfectly in line with the later traditions of Syriac liturgy and ritual;

they could not be interpreted in accordance with “Syriac” precedence until this school had

already developed. Because of the early dating of the Durene House Church, it is safer to

address it as Syrian, not Syriac, and the community as Greek-speaking Syrians.180

Additionally, there are no examples of Christianity at Dura until the second wave of

Romanization in the early third century, around 230 CE.181 Christianity, at Dura, was certainly

conditioned by its Syrian location, but it was not indigenous to it. Syriac Christianity, as

demonstrated by some linguistic and exegetical passages of the Peshitta Bible, is widely

assumed to have followed a Jewish-conversion trajectory, and is more notably Judaic than

Western Christianity.182 Material evidence of the site confirms the existence of Christian locals

bearing Roman names (notably the names Paulus and Proclus inscribed in graffiti in the House

Church).183 There are no notably Hebraic names amongst the inscriptions at the House Church,

which suggests that members of the Jewish community were either not actively exploring

Christianity, or were not addressed in conversion activity.184 There is no evidence of shared

themes or hostility between the Christians and the Jews in Dura, implying that the communities

were largely separate. The material remains of the site occasionally correspond with the

179 Bradshaw, Early Christian Worship, 14. 180 In addition to the fragmentary portion of the Diatesseron being found in the translated Greek, the graffiti used to delineate Biblical characters on one fresco is in Greek, as are all dedicatory inscriptions throughout the House Church. 181 Kraeling, The Excavations at Dura-Europos, 105. 182 Kraeling, The Excavations at Dura-Europos, 108. 183 Kraeling, The Excavations at Dura-Europos, 108. 184 Kraeling, The Excavations at Dura-Europos, 108. 59

anticipated ritual as outlined in both Syriac and Western liturgical texts; they just as often do not

correspond at all.

This tenuous area of development makes it difficult to directly cross-reference between

Dura’s material findings and established Christian theological texts. Religious studies must rely

on a set of authoritative texts in order to get a direct sense of how Christianity was conceived and

practiced; at the same time, the discipline needs to understand the risk of using texts that are the

products of their own contexts; their availability between contexts is difficult to assess.

My treatment of the texts will be in line with Paul Bradshaw’s understanding of the

liturgical development of Christianity; there was, during the 3rd century, no standardized, pan-

regional liturgy to adhere to or deviate from;185 instead, Christians, even Christians within the

same general geographic area, varied extensively in their practices and in their interpretations of

major Christian writings and imagery. There are certain texts, of course, that can be used to get

the best impression of how the Baptistery imagery would be ritualistically interpreted by this

Syrian community.186

Of course, the Christians at Dura were clearly as versed in the same Biblical narratives as

their Christian contemporaries in the Roman Empire. Their baptistery art is evidence of this.

Biblical narratives were clearly received readily in a Syrian location prior to any stable school of

“Syriac” Christianity. Moreover, there is direct archeological evidence of what type of Biblical

narrative the community could, conceivably, be exposed to. Tatian’s Syriac harmonized Gospel,

the Diatessaron, will be used, along with the New Testament (where relevant) to interpret the

185 Bradshaw, Early Christian Worship, 5-7. 186 I will also offer the caveat that multiple interpretations of the Baptismal art are possible in this early Christian context. More to the fact, multiple, flexible interpretations are probably more likely than any one “correct” interpretation of the relationship between Durene art and Durene ritualistic practice.

Biblical scenes in the Baptistery. A short, Greek fragment of the Diatessaron was found in

Dura’s Tower of Papyri, directly linking these translated and “reinterpreted” Gospel stories to

the Durene Christian community.187 This further confirms the Greek language of the Durene

Christian community.188 Where available, I have consulted the Greek versions of key texts, as

that is my language of study and more appropriate for this particular community.

I have chosen to focus on the texts that predate the destruction of Dura, so there is an

extremely limited canon available. In order to get a better understanding of Christian tropes

hinted at in the Baptistery, I have also chosen to analyze certain texts composed shortly after the

city’s abandonment, provided they originate in the same general geographic area. Texts that were

either likely composed, or disseminated in the Syrian region will be prioritized as analytical tools

in my investigation. The Christian community at Dura, as previously addressed, was not Syriac,

but rather Syrian or, more appropriately “Durene.” Additionally, the transmission history of

many “Western-provenance” texts suggests popularity and use in a Syrian environment.

Therefore, my investigation will privilege the texts that could have theoretically been known to

Dura, even if composed elsewhere. For this reason, writings from early 3rd century Church

Fathers which impacted the Greek-speaking East (such as Origen) will be addressed when

relevant.189

In addition to the perimeters outlined above, the texts that will be addressed in my

investigation are texts that specifically address ritual baptism. As I have outlined a ritual-focused

187 The Diatessaron fragment, found in Greek (rather than the hypothesized original Syriac of the text) tells us that the Christian community was familiar with Greek. It also demonstrates that their reception of “textual” Christianity involved reinterpreted and translated Biblical stories. For additional information, please see Kraeling, The Excavations at Dura-Europos, 114. 188 The Diatesseron neither confirms nor denies the existence of other Christian texts in the region, and I do not wish to suggest that this particular text was prioritized over oral tradition or other Gospel accounts. It simply exists as a more verifiable example of the texts that the community would have accessed. 189 Bradshaw, Early Christian Worship, 25. 61

approach to my methodologies, I have chosen to prioritize texts that hint at what an early 3rd-

century, Syrian-region baptism “looked like,” rather than what it “meant.” In order to obtain the

fullest sense of Durene baptism as an embodied, sensual ritual, it is more important to describe

the baptism ritual through texts that describe ritual mechanics, rather than the theological

meanings of baptismal images. For this reason, pamphlets and liturgical documents are of more

importance to me than theological discussions on baptism’s meaning. I have limited my primary

sources to those that explicitly describe baptisms, rather than those that discuss the baptismal

ritual in terms of Christian doctrine.

Following these criteria, certain Christian documents are integral areas of insight into

how baptism worked during this era. The primary texts I have selected are as follows; 1)

Didache190, 2) Didascalia Apostellarum, and 3) The Apostolic Tradition.

The Didache, composed approximately from 90-140 CE, is the first major Christian

liturgical pamphlet.191 Meaning “the teaching” in Greek, the Didache is the earliest extant

example of a “church order;” it details how the church was to be structured, and details baptism’s

role for the Christian. It should be noted here that the Didache refers to what should be

considered a Christianized Jewish community;192 one that would be identifiably different than

the Durene community at the heart of this project. The Didache is the earliest Church Order that

describes how baptism was to be performed, and it addresses baptism as part of the Christian

process of catechesis for Gentiles, which suggests (in Chapters 1-6) that there was a general

190 I will be using my own translation of the Didache when examining it, based on the Greek text transcribed in Didache Translation and Commentary by Aaron Milavec, (New York: The Newman Press, 2003). Translation will be my own but it is in line with the commentary by Niederwinner, The Didache, 126-131. 191 Kurt Niederwimmer, The Didache: A Commentary, trans. by Linda M. Maloney, ed. Harold W. Attridge, Hermeneia Series- A Critical and Historical Commentary on the Bible, (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1998), 12-13. 192 Bradshaw, Early Christian Worship, 8-9.

period of preparation.193 The document, as stated before, is dated to a period that predates the

House Church.194 It was widely translated and disseminated, as the document was quoted in

other Christian texts. It appears to have been widely used in a Syrian area, and thus indicates

some Syrian interpretation of the use of water in initiation rituals.195 Therefore, the Didache

sheds light on the earliest patterns of baptismal performance in developing Christian

communities.

In the early third century, the Didache’s prescriptions for baptismal initiation are notably

expanded. The description of baptism gleaned from texts of this century shows a multi-stage

event, with ritualized stages outlining the progress of Christian initiation. It is hypothesized that

the Didache was incorporated into a later, larger Church order, known as the Didascalia

Apostolarum; this text is also thought to be of Syrian providence.196 The order describes many

key features of Christian community and ritual life. The chapters that refer to baptism are dated

to a later period than the Didache; this indicates that the communities receiving the Didascalia

deemed the Didache to be valid, but were familiar with a more developed, complex initiation

process. The dating of this church order is approximate, but scholars suggest it was composed

between 200 and 250, with the majority favouring the earlier end of the spectrum.197 The

Didascalia contains theological comments on scripture, but primarily outlines the roles inherent

193 Niederwimmer,, The Didache: A Commentary, 86-130. 194 140 CE is the latest date ascribed to the text. Scholars typically date the Didache between the period of 80 to 140 CE. For additional information, please see Niederwimmer, The Didache: A Commentary, 86-87, 9-12. 195 Bradshaw, Early Christian Worship, 23. Bradshaw is in line with the dominant scholarly theory that the text was originally composed in Syriac. The text was not found at Dura during excavations. 196 According to Didascalia translator Margaret Dunlop Gibson, the Didascalia is a 3rd century text that is amplified into the Apostolic Constitutions a century later. For further reference, please see: Margaret Dunlop Gibson, Didascalia Apostolorum in Syriac: Edited from a Mesopotamian Manuscript with Various Readings and Collations of Other MSS, (Cambridge Library Collection-Religion,1903), SpringerLink Ebooks. 197 Bradshaw, Early Christian Worship, 23.

in the developing Christian community. By analyzing the “components” of the baptismal

process, as described in this text, evidence of a staged, ceremonial initiation emerges, one that

involves the participation of several members of a community.198

These initiation stages are reflected in another text, the Apostolic Tradition. It is

attributed (contentiously)199 to the Roman, Greek language writer Hippolytus.200/201 However,

there is significant overlap in the Apostolic Tradition between the writings of the “Western”

church fathers, and the Eastern communities.202 Moreover, the Apostolic Tradition, when dated

at the latter end of Bradshaw’s proposed timeline (between 190 and 253), is contemporaneous

with the Durene House Church.203 As will be discussed in my analysis of the Durene Baptistery,

there are symbolic and behavioural similarities between this text and the material evidence of the

site. The text also provides the clearest outline for the steps and stages of the baptismal rite, and

it is among the most detailed, comprehensive primary source on record in this early period of

198 I will be relying on two translations from the Syriac; Dunlop’s aforementioned version, and that of Robert Connolly. A Greek-to-English translation of the available Greek fragments was not available at the time of writing. Didascalia Apostolorum: the Syriac Version Translated and Accompanied by the Verona Latin Fragments, with an Introduction and Notes by R. Hugh Connolly (Oxford, Oxford University Press, 1929). 199 Scholars widely dispute the origins of this text, suggesting that it is an example of “living literature,” composed and synthesized between multiple communities over a long period of time. The Greek original has largely been lost; the work survives in translated Coptic, Latin and later Arabic forms. For more information, please see: Hippolytus, The Apostolic Tradition, Translation, Introduction and Commentary by Paul F. Bradshaw and Maxwell E. Johnson, edited by Harold W. Attridge, Hermeneia Series- A Critical and Historical Commentary on the Bible. (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2002), 4-5. 200 Bradshaw and Johnson, “Introduction” to The Apostolic Tradition, 4-5. Bradshaw concedes that the text, according to the translation record, appears to have been more widely circulated in the East. However, the ritual it describes has more in common with the Western tradition, associated with Tertullian, than with Syriac Christianity. This may reflect the variety of early Christianity. 201 I will be relying on Paul Bradshaw and Maxwell Johnson’s translation of the Apostolic Tradition. Furthermore, I will be relying on their translation of the Sahidic Coptic text for two reasons. It is likely the earliest translated form of the original Greek, and the Sahidic script contains many loan words from the Greek, which are underlined in Bradshaw’s translation (Bradshaw, “Introduction” in The Apostolic Tradition, 8.) Greek, as opposed to any other language, is privileged here due to the evidence of its usage amongst Durene Christians. 202 Bradshaw and Johnson, “Introduction” in The Apostolic Tradition, 5. 203 Bradshaw and Johnson, “Introduction” in The Apostolic Tradition, 5.

Christianity. It is useful as a comparative tool to assess which steps the Durene Christians

observed, which they ignored, and which they made prominent in their own baptismal space.

In addition to these direct, liturgical texts, I will augment my analysis with two additional

sources; the hymns of Ephrem the Syrian, and the Acts of Thomas. Many hymns associated with

baptisms were composed by or attributed to Ephrem the Syrian, a Syriac Church Father widely

quoted in Durene studies.204 Though Ephrem was born fifty years after the abandonment of

Dura, he is early enough in the reception/interpretation of Christian texts to have a literary

association with the writers contemporaneous with the Durene house church. His hymns give

insight into themes that may have been percolating in the Durene baptismal ceremony, gaining

predominant standing in later Syriac Christianity. Hymns on Virginity, Epiphany and the Nativity

make mention of baptisms, whether Christ’s own or that of a Christian initiate.205 He also utilizes

metaphors of “family,” and “flocks,” to describe the communal, social relationship between

initiation and Christian identity (Ephrem, Hymns on Virginity 22:8-15). Ephrem is also the

popularizer of the idea of Christ as Physician, an image retained in Syriac Christianity that has

great resonance with the artistic choices of the Durene community (Ephrem, Hymns on Virginity

46:15). Ephrem employs some major baptismal images and symbols, but does not comment

about the place in which the ritual occurred- a detail that is also obscured in early Christian ritual

guides. Because of this, I have broadened my selection to include the Acts of Thomas, dated to

the mid 3rd-century.206 The Acts of Thomas includes a narrative (rather than liturgical) account

204 Sebastian Brock, Fire from Heaven: Studies in Syriac Theology and Liturgy, (Farnham: Ashgate Publishing Ltd, 2006), 181. 205 I will be using Kathleen E. McVey’s translation of Ephrem’s Syriac-language hymns, as compiled in: Ephrem the Syrian, Hymns, trans. Kathleen E. McVey, Preface by John Meyendorff (New Jersey: Paulist Press, 1989). 206 The Acts of Thomas: Introduction, Text, and Commentary, trans. A. F. J. Klijn, (Leiden: BRILL, 2003), ProQuest Ebook Central, 5-8. I will be relying on Klijn’s translation of The Acts of Thomas throughout this project.

65 of baptism.207 Therefore, we cannot consider its account “prescriptive;” the details it includes must primarily adhere to and further the logic of the narrative. Nevertheless, there are some direct parallels between the account of baptisms in the Acts of Thomas and the material evidence of Dura Europos. Because of the needs of the narrative, the Acts of Thomas situates its depictions of baptisms in places; these places give some insight into what early Syrian Christians deemed acceptable locations for the ritual.

Concluding Remarks:

I have argued in this chapter that ritual and place must be central methodological considerations when considering early Christian identity. I have also argued that interdisciplinary investigation provides the most holistic insight into the dynamism between body, ritual and place. Ritual studies, as conducted by Catherine Bell and Ronald Grimes, is instrumental when analyzing the relationship between the body and ritualized movements. I refer to terms from

Bell’s theory, such as ritual body, ritualization, and misrecognition to describe the creation of a

Christian identity as an embodied phenomenon, one that does not “convert” an initiate, but rather works (on a physical level) to realign key aspects of their worldview. Working from Grimes’ performance theory, I describe the Durene ritual process as sensual, kinesthetic, and interactive; the aforementioned ritual body is created not in isolation, but against multiple participants, and a wide range in stimuli. As the Durene Baptistery frescoes are a key example of such stimuli, I take a haptic perspective when analyzing the art, focusing on the body’s participation when viewing art, and the processional elements inherent in the art’s interaction with the mobile body.

Finally, core principles from CSR, such as minimal counter-intuitiveness, agent ritualism, and

207 The Acts of Thomas: Introduction, Text, and Commentary, trans. A. F. J. Klijn, 66 joint attention, are used to augment the analysis, and assess the effects of art, symbolism and ritual on cognition and identity.

Of course, my key material subject for this project is not an extant ritual body, but rather the Durene House Church, a place that both reflects Durene Christian identity and was instrumental in creating it. The materiality of this House Church provides the best insight into how mobile ritual was conducted; from there, one can hypothesize on ritual’s role in creating

Christians. For this reason, place studies is another primary, guiding method for this project. I have also argued that place, an oft-neglected category, has a profound impact on both ritual and identity. My next chapter will describe the place of Dura-Europos as a key conditioning element for Durene ritual. It logically follows that Dura’s main, identifiable characteristics as a place, and as a matrix for religious place-making, should be discussed before the Christian House Church is examined in depth.

CHAPTER 3: Location, Locale, and Sense of Place

Preamble:

Dura’s Christian community was directly involved with the shaping of and interaction

with a new, “Christian” church,208 and in the creation of a definably “Christian” place. This

intentional renovation of a Durene house is, to borrow Michael Peppard’s title, one of the first,

identifiably Christian religious place in the historic record. If Dura’s House Church is to be

analyzed as a “place,” then it must be analyzed as the “place” devoted for the creation and

communication of a Christian identity. It is the interplay between Durene identity, and the

Christian place that I wish to explore in this chapter. In order to do this, Dura must also be

analyzed as a place intimately connected to Durene identity. The Christian community is

identifiably connected to the themes and tropes that characterize Durene civil life. These themes

and tropes inform their expression of Christianity; Christian initiation is the invitation to join a

new mode of identity that is layered over the preexisting one. Initiation should not, in this

context, be treated anachronistically as “conversion,” implying the complete swap of one

singular identity for another one. The Christianity that emerged from Dura is both Roman and

Syrian, and tied to a multi-lingual, multi-religious, and pluralistic sense of place.

Any examination of place should take into account the differences and connectivity

between John Agnew’s components of place: location and locale.209 Put succinctly, these

categories, for the place-theorist, more concretely illustrate what is meant by the nebulous idea of

208 Quoting, of course, the title of Michael Peppard’s most recent full-length book on the topic. For additional information, please see Peppard, The World’s Oldest Church, 2. 209 John A. Agnew and D. Levingston, The SAGE Handbook of Geographical Knowledge, (Newbury Park: SAGE Publications, 2011), 318-319.

“context.” Location is primarily a geographic point of consideration; it provides insight into the environmental and natural processes that condition a population, and work to determine certain particularities of locale that come to define the identity of a place.210 Locale, on the other hand, conceptualizes the elements of interaction between location and inhabitants that constitute an identifiable “place.”211

DURENE LOCATION- Borders, Rivers, and Locational Defense:

Location is, according to place theorist Agnew, the coordinates of the map. Location strictly considers geographic and geological elements.212 Dura’s location is “lower

Mesopotamia.”213 It is situated at a bend in the Euphrates River, at a relatively high elevation that facilitates the surveillance of military and/or commercial trade routes. It was a natural rest point for caravans travelling between Palmyra and the Mediterranean, and its proximity to the

Euphrates River marks it as one of the last oasis environments at edge of the Syrian Desert.214

The oldest recoverable evidence from Dura-Europos suggests that it functioned as a sort of

“caravan” stop prior to Hellenistic occupation, a designation that puts cultural exchange right into its DNA. Location also informed its contentious, unstable imperial history; it is the location of the site that directly put it in the path of four very disparate powers; the Hellenized Seleucid

Empire, The Indo-European Persian Parthians, Roman Imperialism, and the Neo-Persian

Sassanid Empire. Dura’s geographic location, as a “gateway,”215 to the desert, was strategically

210 Agnew and Levingston, The SAGE Handbook, 319-320. 211 Agnew and Levingston, The SAGE Handbook, 319-320. 212 Tim Creswell, Place: An Introduction, 15-35. 213 Ann Perkins. The Art of Dura-Europos. (Oxford: Claredon Press,1973), 3. 214 Please refer to Appendix A1 for Image of Dura’s location on modern map. 215 To borrow the term from Lisa Brody as read in: Brody and Hoffman, Dura-Europos: Crossroads to Antiquity, i.

important to these expanding empires, both for trade and for the area's defense. Despite its past

as a nomadic trading route, the Macedonian Seleucid settlement at Dura indicates that it was

planned to be a permanent, outpost city.216 Nevertheless, Dura has gained a scholarly mythos as

a “frontier” city, a “Wild East” city of the Roman Empire.217 This classification does Dura a

disservice, as it was far more developed than a typical frontier city.218

The earliest record of a founded city at Dura is the record of Isidore of Charax’s The

Parthian Stations. He refers to the site as “Europos” and states that it was founded either by

Nikanor, a general of Seleukos I, stationed in Syria, or Seleukos himself, under the epithet of

Nikator.219 Though Isidore does not provide the date of the city’s foundation; in order for it to

have been founded under Seleukos I, it must have been established by the end of the 4th century

BCE.220 However, the expansion and planning of the city and, indeed, the creation of an explicit

city shape, resulted from the annexation of the area by the Seleucid Empire around 300 BCE.221

As a result, scholars take 300 BCE as reasonably accurate for Dura’s founding date. The name

“Dura” was derived from the local population’s Aramaic language, though it is only known to

216 Leonard Gregoratti, “Dura-Europos: A Greek Town of the Parthian Empire,” in Hellenism to Islam: Cultural and Linguistic Change in the Roman Near East, eds. Hannah M. Cotton, Robert G. Hoyland, Jonathan J. Price, and David J. Wasserstein, (New Haven: Cambridge University Press, 2009), 20. 217 Baird, The Inner Lives of Ancient Houses, 31. 218 There is a wealth of evidence to suggest that Dura-Europos was regularly traversed by caravans; notably wall reliefs at temples that demonstrate the worship of Arabian gods, who are depicted riding camels (Yale Exhibit). However, the classification of Dura-Europos as a “caravan city,” in the Arabian sense of the term is controversial and unconvincing. There is little evidence to suggest that Dura continued to function as a caravan stop with any regularity during Roman occupation, and the city was sustained by the military presence, as opposed to a complex network of trade (the city of Mecca is an illustrative comparative example). J. Baird rejects the classification of Dura as a “caravan” city, on grounds that such places are usually transient, and all physical evidence points to Dura’s being planned as a permanent settlement (The Inner Lives of Ancient Houses, 37). 219 Ann Louise Perkins, The Art of Dura-Europos, (Oxford: Claredon Press, 1973), 4. 220 This date is attributed to the aforementioned description by Isidore; if he was indeed referring to the famed Seleucid general, Dura would have to been founded around 300 BCE. Scholarship remains inconclusive as to whether or not Nikanor actually took the city himself. The declension used by Isidore in The Parthian Stations is ambiguous enough to allow some doubt into this accuracy. (Peppard, The World’s Oldest Church, 223). 221 Perkins, The Art of Dura-Europos, 14.

come into usage during Roman occupation, when the Roman officials referred to the site as

Dura, a city ruled by the Europeans.222 The hyphenated name Dura-Europos is a modern

convention.223

Dura’s location is defined by imperial borders, and, thus, it was thoroughly characterized

by the threat of invasion and conquest, and a pressing need for border defense. The emphasis on

borders and militarism was the defining visual and commercial element of the city, from its

defensive Western Wall to its citadel at the Eastern reaches of the city.224 Any vulnerable

location was heavily fortified, and fittingly, these fortifications define the very existence of the

known city. It exists at a particularly strategic position along the Euphrates River, built directly

above two steep river valleys (wadis in contemporary Arabic).225 The aforementioned Western

Wall marks the vulnerable side of the city, literally cementing the confines of the city, and

making highly visible the militarism that is fixed to its identity. The Wall also borders the Main

activity centre of Dura (called “Main Street, leading directly to central agora of the city, located

further east).226 The active day-to-day commercial life of the city was conducted within sight of

the defensive wall, entrenching the character of Dura as a fortress city. Moreover, the Western

Wall, though reinforced under Roman occupation, was a fixture of Durene domestic life even as

the first domestic spheres in Dura were constructed.227 A significant segment of the domestic

neighbourhoods were physically reinforced by this striking, militaristic presence; it is not a

222 The term “Europos” is literally translated to “Dura of the Europeans.” For further information, please see Perkins, The Art of Dura-Europos, 5-7. 223 Brody and Hoffman, Dura-Europos: Crossroads to Antiquity, xxiii. 224 Robert Burns, Origins of the Colonnaded Streets in the Cities of the Roman East (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017), 32. 225 Simon James, Excavations at Dura-Europos 1928-1937 Final Report VII: The Arms and Armour and Other Military Equipment (London: British Museum Press, 2004), 11-13. 226 Burns, Origins of Colonnaded Streets, 30-32. 227 Perkins, The Art of Dura-Europos, 14.

stretch to say that local identities were reinforced by the military presence visible in a domestic

context. Militarism, in short, is omnipresent in Dura-Europos. The Christian community would

be no stranger to it; the city block of their House Church was at the Western border of Dura, the

residential buildings buttressed by the imposing Western Wall.228

While the militarism is a major aspect of Dura, life in the city is also conditioned by its

proximity to the Euphrates River.229 Its proximity to the river provides an oasis-like

environment, making permanent settlement possible, and even desirable.230The river serves an

important role in the city’s overall militarism. Without the unique shape of the Euphrates and its

riverbanks, any city built alongside its shores would be vulnerable from the river’s edge.

However, as previously stated, the river is banked by steep wadis, giving the holder of the city a

visual advantage over invading armies, who would encounter a significant delay in breaching the

city.231 The access to water in Dura seems relatively conservative, especially when compared

with other towns of its equivalent size along the Euphrates. The main residential area (the

intersection of “Wall Street," which runs along the military wall, and "Main Street,” which runs

perpendicular to this, from West to East) was relatively far from the river, as was the agora at the

centre of Dura.232 It appears likely that the residential citizens of Dura had more contact with

running water at the Roman baths (supplied through an aqueduct built, obviously, only during

the first period of lengthy Roman occupation) than with the river directly.233 The only Durenes

who could have potentially seen the river as a key fixture in their daily lives were those who

228 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 3. 229 James, Dura-Europos: The Arms and Armour and Other Military Equipment, 13. 230 See Appendix A2 and A3 of this project for corresponding topographic images of modern Dura-Europos (Deir ez-Zor). 231 James, Dura-Europos: The Arms and Armour and Other Military Equipment, 13. 232 Perkins, The Art of Dura-Europos, 12. 233 Perkins, The Art of Dura-Europos, 10.

occupied the Dux Ripae Palace, an elevated citadel located in the city’s North Eastern

quadrant.234 Interestingly, the elevation of this Seleucid Palace puts it above the river, rather than

in direct contact with it. The wadis of Dura-Europos directly separate the river from the rest of

the city, rendering it a defensive border rather than a tangible “river” presence in the life of

Durene locals.235

DURENE LOCALE- Militarism and Pluralism in Place

Militarism is not the only natural consequence of Durene location. Its existence alongside

borders makes the resulting city necessarily diverse; a “meeting of cultures on the desert.”236 The

population of Dura-Europos was, therefore, witness to a huge flux in dominant cultures and

cultural aesthetics. It is this tumultuous exposure to different cultures that results in the pluralism

that so strikingly characterizes all facets of Durene life.

Though the Roman period of Dura is the main period of investigation in this project, it is

worth restating that Roman control was not solidified in Dura-Europos until 165 CE. This means

that the site remained under more-or-less uninterrupted Parthian rule from 113 BCE to 165 CE, a

total of 278 largely undocumented years.237 The city was witness to reasonably long, periods of

Seleucid and Parthian influence, and the markers of these periods did not disappear during

Rome’s occupation of the city. The population reflects this plurality of influences, whether in

their domestic lives, their religious practices, and their linguistic identities. At the same time, the

234 Perkins, The Art of Dura-Europos, 10. 235 See Appendix A3 for a photo of the wadis, and corresponding elevation of the city. 236Brody and Hoffman, Dura-Europos: Crossroads to Antiquity, xxiii. 237 A thorough investigation of Parthian-era Dura-Europos is not possible for this project, especially as there is no evidence of a Christian community under Parthian rulers. However, I quote the length of Parthian occupation here to contrast the years of Roman occupation, a mere 91 years. Given the comparatively brevity of Roman presence in Dura, the overall Romanization of the city is altogether more dramatic than generally considered. 73

Romans, in securing the city for defensive principles, were able to entrench, deeply and visibly, their own civil identity within this pluralistic place. It is in the locale of Dura that the city’s militarism and diversity become visually, aesthetically expressed, and become a crucial element of place.

Locale, as briefly mentioned in the opening, is the “look” of a place. It was what makes the place identifiable or marked; it distinguishes a “place” from its simple coordinate location and informs the development of any locale. I will treat Dura’s locale as the means through which place-elements are perpetuated throughout the life and inhabitation of the city. It is in this way that location is experienced as locale and comes to inform an area’s status as a meaningful

“place.” If location considers primarily fixed, geographic elements of place, locale is concerned with particularities of place that give rise to social relations.

As previously discussed, Dura’s locational position along the borders of empires informs its development into a fortress city. The visual borders are not passive lines on a city map; instead, they conditioned the day-to-day habits and movements of the locals. The Christian community, for example, would eventually build its Church out of a house located beside the

Western Wall. The role of the Wall- an edifice that both prevented incomers, but nevertheless visualized threats past the borders- communicated the site’s militarism on a daily basis. A

Durene “home” similarly was structured to keep insiders guarded from “outsider” threats. These borders, and the grid system of the city, contribute to the “place ballet” of Durene inhabitance, one that gives rise to attitudes about place, belonging and identity.238 The proximity of the military to daily “Durene” life was reemphasized during the Roman period. Effects of military life at this garrison are further felt throughout the city, as administrative evidence suggests that

238 Cresswell, Place: An Introduction, 64. 74

most Durene citizens were employed or worked with the Roman legion in some capacity. The

Christian community, for example, has the name “Proclus” inscribed on the Southern wall of its

Baptistery; this Latinate, Roman name is also mentioned in Durene military documents

excavated from the Tower of Papyri.239 We cannot know that these two “Procluses” were one

and the same individual; likewise, there is no evidence to suggest that the Christians were not

equal participants in Roman military life.

This wide-spread, deeply-felt militarism is, however, the only “homogenous” element of

the city. By the time the Romans occupied Dura in 164 CE, Dura’s history of pluralism had long

taken root, and permeated all elements of localized existence. This pluralism is seen in a wide

layering of architectural styles in Roman-period Dura. The excavated city is an archeological

palimpsest, showing evidence of cultures building over the previous, with both cultures visible

and influential. In the case of Dura, the archeological remains provide the evidence of a

pluralistic locale, preserving layers of different, disparate cultures. The framework of the city is

Hellenized, shaped by the Seleucid’s Hellenized grid system. The Seleucid defensive Western

wall and Dux Ripae Palace to the North East define the boundaries of the site.240 This grid

system, and the omnipresent Western Wall, were actively used throughout the city’s life.241 The

Dux Ripae palace, though not used by the Romans as a fortress, nevertheless remained an

239 Baird, The Inner Lives of Ancient Houses, 256. See also Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 93-94. 240 Perkins, The Art of Dura-Europos, 14. 241According to Ross Burns in Origins of the Colonnaded Streets in the Cities of the Roman East, there are only superficial dissimilarities between Hellenized “grid cities,” such as Dura, and Roman grid cities. Both types of cities were heavily marked by their grid systems, which heavily informs the locale of the place, and the movements of its inhabitants. Dura’s grid clearly served Roman interests well enough that it was not remodelled during any period of Romanization. If Dura’s Hellenized populace was conditioned by a grid system, such conditioning would have been reinforced by Roman dependence on the grid-system. For further information, please see: Burns, Origins of the Colonnaded Streets, 31.

architectural entity throughout the city’s life.242 Constructed in the grand tradition of

Macedonian courts, it contrasts sharply with the architectural types seen in Dura. Other examples

of Hellenization appear in the agora, where buildings include the standard Hellenized

peristyles.243 The grid system, combined with Dura’s strategic position along imperial borders,

conditioned the area into a permanent, valuable city. Seleucid plans for permanent settlement,

with a mixed economy, appear to have been retained throughout the city’s lifespan.244

Dura’s development into a Parthian city occurred over-top of this grid system; at no point

were core elements of the infrastructure razed or dismantled. Dura seems to have functioned as a

regional capital for the Parthians (who dispelled the Seleucids and controlled the area until

Roman conquest in 165 CE).245 The Parthians made their largest impact on the religious and

domestic landscape of the city, expanding residences and temples246 and transforming the

Hellenized agora into the multi-functional bazaar more associated with Semitic cities.247 It is in

such material changes that the Parthians imprinted the material culture of the site; their housing

architecture remains characteristic of Dura well into Roman occupation.248The vast majority of

residential buildings in Dura, including the House Church, belong to the Parthian period of

242 The name for this palace is taken from a partial dipinti uncovered from the site. Scholars such as Perkins treat the “palace” as a planned residence for the Seleucid elite, but there is no consensus as to its function during the Roman period. For further information about its visual “role” in the city landscape, please see Baird, The Inner Lives of Ancient Houses, 34. 243 Baird, The Inner Lives of Ancient Houses, 98 244 Perkins, The Art of Dura-Europos,14. 245 Perkins, The Art of Dura-Europos, 5. 246 Baird, The Inner Lives of Ancient Houses, 24-26. 247 The differences between an agora and a bazaar are intricate, complex, and worthy of their own particular scholarship. Suffice it to say at this time that the agora typically functions as a commercial, public centre; while a bazaar is multi-purpose, and includes both commercial and domestic residences. The Durene tendency for shop owners to live above their shop dates to the Parthian period, when administrative buildings were renovated into multi-use domestic settings and is something well-observed throughout the Roman empire that muddyies the distinction further. For further information, please see Perkins, The Art of Dura-Europos, 7-11. 248 Perkins, The Art of Dura-Europos, 5.

Durene occupation and their proliferation of house building certainly contributes to the residential locale of the city.249Houses in Dura solidified at this time into a combined, hybrid

Greek-Parthian style. Notably, they utilize the diwan-style, open-ended room leading to open interior courts.250

This diwan-style of Parthian homes is reflected in the Durene Temple style, most of which also dates to the Parthian era and remained in use throughout the city’s lifespan.251 Ann

Perkins notes that these temples were defined by their enclosure, or lack of direct public access, and had rooms accessible from their long sides, rather than at the end of the room. These temples differ from the standard model of Temples seen throughout the Parthian empire, and notably service Hellenized gods, rather than Mesopotamian ones.252Also worth noting is the effect of introversion or “privacy” afforded in such Temples.253 The Durene House Church and Baptistery share this characteristic introversion, lacking light, significant visual access, and having policed, relatively inconspicuous entrances (especially from the street view). The enclosed, secluded nature of the Christian Baptistery is very much in line with the Durene temple type; it does not appear to be a chosen response to persecution or anti-Christian sentiment.

The average Durene’s religious life would, therefore, have contained a plurality of visual cultural cues. He/she would have entered a visibly Parthian Temple, associated this diwan-style of room as a sort of private shrine, while worshipping Greek gods together with local

Mesopotamian ones. He/she would also mark their identities in Greek, rather than Aramaic or

249 Baird, The Inner Lives of Ancient Houses, 90-92. 250 Perkins, The Art of Dura-Europos, 5. 251 Perkins, The Art of Dura-Europos, 17. 252 Michael Sommer, “Acculturation, Hybridity, Créolité,” in Religion, Society and Culture at Dura-Europos, ed. Ted Kaizer, Yale Classical Studies (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016), 65.https: doi:10.1017/9781316403488.005. 253 Perkins, The Art of Dura-Europos, 20.

Syriac (as evidenced by the epigraphic evidence uncovered from Temple statues and on the

buildings directly).254 This sort of pluralism is not solely the domain of religious life. The

average, domestic culture of a Durene civilian would similarly have included a plurality of

cultural indicators. Green glazed pottery, which is first seen in Dura in the first century, is a

Parthian innovation found in many houses well into the Roman period.255 This pottery was

widely found in the excavated houses still in use during the Roman period, even ones that

seemed expressly used by the Roman military. To borrow the example of Baird, Durene

buildings exhibit pluralism on an especially intimate level when the material culture is addressed.

She notes that “in one singular city block, you may (uncover) a relief of an Aramean storm god,

and another of Heracles, inscribed with both Greek and Latin graffiti, combined with Roman

lamps, and locally made ceramic cooking equipment.”256 The minute scale of Durene materiality

is evidence for the pluralism that infused and was sustained and relatively supported throughout

the city’s lifespan.

The uncontentious pluralism pervades the city beyond the architectural and artistic styles.

The languages of Dura are a primary example of this. The major administrative language of Dura

was Greek, but there are instances of graffiti and other epigraphic evidence that highlights the

usage of Syriac, Safaic, and Aramaic.257 Latin, though documented in the Roman era, does not

widely appear at Dura-Europos, and its usage is rather unrepresented even in the most “Roman”

areas of the city.258 The only examples of Latin being “known very well,” are found in the

254 Ted Kaizer, “Religion and Language in Dura-Europos,” in Hellenism to Islam: Cultural and Linguistic Change in the Roman Near East, eds. Hannah M. Cotton, Robert G. Hoyland, Jonathan J. Price, and David J. Wasserstein, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009), 235. 255 Perkins, The Art of Dura-Europos, 5. 256 Baird, The Inner Lives of Ancient Houses, 103. 257 Baird, The Inner Lives of Ancient Houses, 25. 258 Baird, The Inner Lives of Ancient Houses, 24.

garrison at a military shrine.259 Even in these resolutely “Roman” spaces, however, there are

numerous examples of Greek language, especially in the houses converted as domestic military

barracks (in fact, epigraphic evidence from this area proves Latin usage to be the exception,

rather than the norm, even here).260 Greek is especially common in religious spaces. Ted Kaizer,

in his article on the languages of Dura-Europos, concludes that religious life was

overwhelmingly expressed in Greek because the dedicatory inscriptions found in Temples during

the Roman period are almost always in Greek, whether or not the patrons worshipped Roman

Gods or had Latinate names themselves.261 Names are another example of the linguistic

flexibility of Durene languages when conveying identity. J. Baird points to a document

concerning the inheritance of the large House of Lysias, built, according to epigraphic evidence

around 159 CE.262Though the house (like most Durene houses) dates to the Parthian era, and

looks like a typical Parthian house, it was inhabited by a man named Poleocrates; the obvious

Greek heritage of this name is further solidified by the familial epitaph of Europaioi (of the

Europeans.)263 Poleocrates, despite comfortably identifying as a Hellenized “European,” saw fit

to name his sons through a wide variety of naming customs, with the Greek-named Allophanes

259 Kaizer, “Religion and Language in Dura-Europos,” 235. 260 Kaizer also notes that the majority of administrative documents uncovered from the Tower of Papyri were written in Greek, providing solid evidence that the language of civil life in Dura, even during Roman occupation, was Greek. These documents further suggest that Greek legal language, and Seleucid legal practices, functioned relatively unchanged into the Roman period. There does not seem to be any Latinization project which in turn suggests that the Romanization of the site was compatible with linguistic pluralism. The sheer number of Greek graffiti in the explicitly Roman garrison suggests that fundamental elements of “Roman” locale could be readily communicated in Greek in a Durene context. Kaizer, “Religion and Language in Dura-Europos,” 254-256. 261 When the epigraphic evidence from Dura is analyzed, one can note a frequent translation of Roman words into colloquial Greek characters. A painted tile excavated from the House of Scribes is inscribed, in Greek, with the identification “Heliodoros, the Actuarius.” Actuarius, though transliterated into the Greek alphabet, is a Latin word. Meanwhile, the Greek-named Heliodoros almost certainly worked as an actuary for the Roman military, and lived amongst Roman colleagues. 262 Baird, The Inner Lives of Ancient Houses, 50. 263 Baird, The Inner Lives of Ancient Houses, 51-54.

and Nicanor existing alongside their brothers Nabusamus and Zabduas.264 This suggests a

diversity of identity within a single family unit.

The Christians at Dura, like their city counterparts, would have experienced multiple

languages, communicating primarily in Greek with other languages represented more minimally.

Their religious language was almost certainly Greek, and this is the language that marked their

sacred space, just as it did others throughout Dura.265 This particular mode of Christian life, as

will be discussed in subsequent chapters, is heavily influenced by their Durene habituation.

Crucial places, such as the House Church, share a preoccupation with borders, and the allowance

only of insiders within these borders. However, these “insiders” could consist of a deeply diverse

group of people. As will be discussed more fully at a later time, Christianity in Dura

accommodated the Greek language, a Parthian structure for religious space, and images of

Roman militarism. Christian identity was shaped by visual landscape of Dura-Europos- a

multifaceted, pluralist network. Therefore, pluralism can also be felt within the “Christian”

visual landscape, which included Roman, Parthian, and Hellenistic symbols appropriated as

“Christian” in the new, ritualistic place.

Romanization:

The discussion of pluralism or hybridity in Dura has long been cited as proof that Dura

was not a “Roman” city. In the words of Susan B. Downey, Dura was “never intended to be

264 Baird, The Inner Lives of Ancient Houses, 53. Baird also notes that the inheritance document suggests that the Greek-named brothers had Semitic equivalents to their names, and the two versions are used interchangeably throughout the document. 265 As noted previously, no Syriac language religious documents have been uncovered at the site, though the Didache would theoretically exist at this time. Greek would therefore likely be the “liturgical” language of Dura- Europos, a notion heavily supported by the uncovering of the Greek language Diatesseron (collected and catalogued as Dura Parchment 24). For further information, see Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 114.

80 developed into a Roman city.”266 Downey cites the lack of colonnaded streets within the commercial centre of Dura as indicative of a lack of Romanization, unlike its contemporaries in the Roman East, notably Palmyra.267 A closer look into the locale of Dura-Europos, however, does not support its description as a non-Roman city. When the components of Roman garrison towns are described in their functional features, Dura seems a rather typical example. The changes to overall landscape during the Roman occupation suggests that Romanization was felt in each element of day-to-day life. It was a form of Romanization that maintained, by virtue of its location and pluralistic locale, the disparate cultural influences of the population.

Nevertheless, Romanization occurred, and it was deeply transformative.

Dura’s transformation from Parthian border town to Roman garrison city is described as occurring in two waves. After the Parthian hold on Dura fell to the Romans under Lucius Verus, substantial Romanization of the city began. An earthquake devastated the infrastructure of the site in 160 CE, shortly after forcing major rebuilds of many of the architectural landmarks. This is called the “first wave of Romanization.”268 During this time, Roman administrative buildings emerged that typically reutilized pre-existing Parthian houses or Hellenized shops near the agora.

Any transformation of residential or commercial Dura was seen as minor and reactive, leaving a crowded, decentralized, pluralistic place.269 However, Perkins also notes that, during this first wave of Romanization, shops around the agora began to add columns to their storefronts; these renovations effectively form colonnaded streets outside of the agora.270 The change effectively

266 Susan B. Downey, “The Transformation of Seleucid Dura-Europos,” In Romanization and the City, ed. Elizabeth Fentress, Journal of Archeology Supplementary Series (Portsmouth: Press 2000.),156-157. 267 Downey, “The Transformation of Seleucid Dura-Europos,”157. 268 Perkins, The Art of Dura-Europos, 22. 269 Perkins, The Art of Dura-Europos, 24. 270 Perkins, The Art of Dura-Europos, 24.

“Romanizes” the city’s interior in a conscious and considered way, and exhibits a concern in the population to behave as Romans. However, it was the “second period of Romanization” that transformed the landscape into a functionally “Roman” place.271

By the third century, Romanization increased greatly, with the garrison’s expansion. The first direct evidence for the visual prominence of Rome is in the expansion and conversion of houses to house the Roman military. Perkins terms this the “second period of Romanization,” and notes that it was far more pervasive than the original rebuilding of Dura after initial occupation.272 More baths were built, as well as the major temples that serviced the army’s headquarters.273 The Romanization of the garrison quarters came to permeate the rest of the city.

Throughout Rome’s occupation of Dura, Roman soldiers did not only live at the garrison camp.

Instead, Durene houses were renovated and consolidated to accommodate the influx of Roman military men and their families.274 Many of these families lived in expanded, interconnected houses in strictly residential city blocks, well away from the agora and the garrison camp.275

There is evidence of a bath constructed in the garrison camp, which was later converted to an amphitheatre. Shortly thereafter, baths began to emerge in residential areas with more mixed populations; one such bath occurs in city block M8, where the Durene House Church is found.276

Despite Dura’s relatively conservative use of water, an aqueduct was constructed to service the greater water needs of this Romanized city.277 The residential areas, despite their Parthian appearance, exhibit signs of the Roman habituation of the overall population. The wide city

271 Perkins, The Art of Dura-Europos, 24. 272 Perkins, The Art of Dura-Europos, 25. 273 Perkins, The Art of Dura-Europos, 30. 274 Baird, The Inner Lives of Ancient Houses, 240. 275 Baird, The Inner Lives of Ancient Houses, 242. 276 Baird, The Inner Lives of Ancient Houses, 242. 277 Perkins, The Art of Dura-Europos, 32. 82 presence of Roman soldiers can be seen from excavated hordes of coins. Hordes of coins found in the garrison and in the houses occupied by Romans show a variety of mints. These suggest that the market was large for these Roman military men; the uncovering of these coins throughout the Main Street of Dura suggests that military men spent their wages throughout the city.278A Roman-period divorce document, concerning the divorce of Roman military official and a locale Durene woman further communicates the interaction between Roman and non-

Roman in Roman period Dura.279

To summarize, Romanization at Dura was a process of rebuilding and subtle changes, rather than a remodeling of the city with the aim of making it look like a Roman city.

Nevertheless, the city exhibited most key features of a Roman city, and its inhabitants, in participating in this city, must be considered Romanized as well in their day-to-day habits. In this sense, the locale that the Christian community existed within was both pluralistic and heavily

Romanized, and it is within this larger locale that the community created their identifiably

Christian initiation place and House Church. It is important to mention this, especially before we discuss the idea of initiation in Dura. The Romanization in the city, as I will discuss below, was not compromised by plurality or by religious affiliation. Rather, religious ritual and religious place-making were elements through which disparate communities developed their own identities in a Roman environment.

278 Baird, The Inner Lives of Ancient Houses, 250. 279 Baird, The Inner Lives of Ancient Houses, 269. 83

Romanization and Religious Building in Dura-Europos:

It is during this second wave of Romanization that the Christian community converted a

standard Durene house into a house church. This attention to religious place-making is a major

feature of Romanized Dura. For the most part, religious expansion in Dura coincides with both

periods of Romanization, with increased religious building being seen throughout the 2nd period

of Romanization. The Christians of Dura were one such community caught up in the tide of

religious place-making, regardless as to where they originated in the empire.280

The second wave of Romanization was a period in which religious buildings were

renovated in order to accommodate more people, and these renovations are not limited to one

tradition or another; expansions and renovations of religious buildings occurred in quick

succession within the M block alone, with different religious populations partaking in the

building.281 The proximity of these shrines to other Roman institutions also shows cross-Durene

participation in Roman life. The proximity of the Durene House Church with the Roman baths

invites the connection between their building habits and those of the Romans. The plastering of

the Durene baptismal font is especially indicative of the tiling used in Roman baths, which began

to appear in Dura shortly before the building of the Christian Baptistery. It is not a large stretch

to suggest that the Romans introduced this technology, and that Christians visited and employed

this technology in their building.

280 Considering the implications of the baptistery in initiating new Christians, and the fact that there is no sign of Christianity prior to Roman occupation, most scholars assume that Durene Christianity originated from the West. Ted Kaizer explicitly states this in “Languages and Religions of Dura-Europos”, 235. I wish to avoid the implications of Eastern versus Western Christians this early into Christian development; however, as Christian emergence in Dura is inextricably tied to Romanization at the site, I am comfortable stating that the religion only began growing at this time due to an influx of numbers associated with this second period of Romanization. Kraeling shares this assertion in The Christian Building, 119-121. 281 Examples include the Christian House Church, and the expansion of the Durene synagogue. Perkins, The Art of Dura-Europos, 30.

In addition to the construction of the Roman deolicheneum, another amphitheatre, and numerous other temples, the Mithraeum was significantly rebuilt and expanded during the second period of Romanization.282 Perkins particularly notes that the benches surrounding the

Mithraeum’s central sanctuary were expanded in the 3rd century, suggesting that it had become unanticipatedly popular for initiates. In addition to Mithraeum’s expansion, the synagogue was rebuilt on a larger scale, accommodating a larger congregation in the House of the Assembly.

Scholars date the expansion of the synagogue to 244 CE, which coincides directly with the conversion of the Christian House Church (hypothesized to be converted from the original house

240-245 CE).283 Temples during this period were also typically expanded, rebuilt, and rededicated, regardless of what community they emerged from.284

The similarities in place-making between the Christian community and the Durene

Mithraists speak to a sort of Romanized habituation occurring in the “religious realm” at Dura.

There is notably no precedence for the Mithraeum until the Roman soldiers came into the city.

This is despite the Syrian provenance of Mithras; the Mithraeum’s presence cannot be connected with any “local cult,” or non-Roman religious activity.285 Similarly, the evidence for the

Christian community in the site is only dated to the arrival of the Romans. Though the Mithraic initiation ritual is clearly distinct from Christian baptism, both communities required a ceremonial initiation into the religious community.286 Kim Bowes describes the increasing

282 Perkins, The Art of Dura-Europos, 27-30. 283 Perkins, The Art of Dura-Europos, 30-32. 284 Kaizer, “Religion and Language in Dura-Europos,” 250.

285 Beck, “On Becoming a Mithraist: New Evidence for the Propagation of the Mysteries,” iIn Religious Rivalries in the Early Roman Empire and the Rise of Christianity, ed. by Leif E. Vaage, (Waterloo), 175-94. 286 Kim Bowes, Private Worship, Public Values and Religious Change in Late Antiquity, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008), 36-37. The Mithraic initiations are part of what Kim Bowes describes as “mystery cult”

importance of these small, exclusive, and “private mystery cults in the later stages of the Roman

Empire, noting that there is a marked increase of this vein of religion after the Republic, one that

continues to rise as the Empire expands eastwards.287 The cult of Mithras is an overwhelmingly

popular “mystery cult” throughout the Roman Empire, and, as noted previously, its presence is

obvious in Dura-Europos. Roger Beck argues in “On Becoming a Mithraist: New Evidence for

the Propagation of the Mysteries” mithraeum throughout the Roman Empire enjoyed high

attendance and respect, but nevertheless situated themselves in secretive, enclosed places.288 The

Durene Christian House Church is another example of secretive ritual centre for a community.

Both religions clearly felt that their ritual needs, and their own identities as communities,

necessitated the building of a specific, enclosed, and identifiable initiation space.

Both communities relied on a converted house in order to create an initiation space for

new members, and the expansions made to these houses suggests that both traditions were vital,

thriving, and well-attended. The importance of this initiation ceremony is highlighted in both

communities commissioning elabourate art to decorate these initiation spaces. Both communities

conducted their rituals in the localized Greek, despite the cultural identity of their initiates (the

Mithraeum, with its Greek inscriptions, was dedicated to the Palmyrene archers but, given its

size and expansion, it was almost certainly used by Latin speakers in the legion.289) Perhaps most

importantly, both developed during a time of Roman expansion, population growth, and renewed

interest in religious, cultic activity. Though the Mithraeum is traditionally seen as a “Roman”

behaviour. Mystery cults are, according to Kim Bowes, an important element of the privata sacra, a private expression of religious life and identity. 287 Bowes, Private Worship, Public Values and Religious Change in Late Antiquity, 37. 288 Beck, “On Becoming a Mithraist: New evidence for the Ppropagation of the Mysteries,” 180-181. Beck notes that the tendency to situate mithraeums in caves was not a response to persecution, but rather the most effective, ritual way to convey the cosmological realignment that was part of the Mithraic initiations. 289 Kaizer, “Religion and Language in Dura-Europos,” 250. 86

place, and the Christian Baptistery inappropriately has been characterized a “non-Roman” place,

the inhabitants exhibited many parallels in religious place-making.

Though the Christian Baptistery and the Mithraeum are the strongest evidence for a

Durene interest in initiation, Durene pluralism seems to have sparked a Durene-wide conflation

between religion and exclusive identity. The different groups within the city, while participating

in Romanized life, used religious habits and religious places to assert a specific mode of identity.

This is seen in initiation-style cults emerging in Dura, and the regular association of family

identity with religious identity.290 This example associates familial identity with a sense of

religious identity. Religious dedications at Dura frequently “claim” the site for an exclusive

network of people.291 In such a pluralist environment, Christian identity could be communicated

primarily throughout their attendance of different, exclusive places. The Christian House Church,

whilst facilitating and directing Christian initiation, served a similarly Durene function; it

provided an identifiable place for a connected group of people, allowing their exclusive group

identity to take shape.

Christian Baptism In and Out of Place:

Because religious places were so instrumental in creating exclusive group identities in

Dura’s pluralistic environment, it is little wonder that initiation into these places was so

prevalent. The Christian Baptistery is, by design and execution, a place that initiated new

290 Perkins, The Art of Dura-Europos, 40. 291 Baird describes, in particular, the Temple of Aphlad as a place whose dedication bonds a group of people together based on shared origin, and community, rather than shared blood. In addition to its ritualistic use, the Temple marks out and associates a group of connected people; they are both associated with the place, and with each other. She also notes that private homes typically display some form of exclusive dedicatory claims to particular gods. Many instances of such self-identification in Dura occur in homes, with personal places, such as androns, being typically dedicated to the household’s particular God. Baird, The Inner Lives of Ancient Houses, 260-264. 87 members into a community with some exclusive category of identity. This “exclusivity” was closely connected with the experience of a Christian place; the House Church and Baptistery.

The baptismal texts that I have chosen to review also speak to this central, initiative concern. The ritual texts, insofar as they describe ritual action, suggest a reorientation of the body into a new community. The initiation became increasingly, elaborately staged to emphasize this realignment. The exclusivity of this new identity became conveyed through the accumulation of identity markers through these initiative stages; the initiation space itself allowed for the sequential movement between the non-Christian world of Dura into an exclusively Christian space.

In order to address how and why Durene Christians made this “Christian" place, we must know what was required of initiates during their initiation ritual. The ritual itself, and the way it is expressed through a place, primarily tells us what elements of identity were associated with

Christian (exclusive) identity within a Durene community. A survey of texts that are roughly contemporaneous with the Durene House Church uncovers a development of patterns or “steps” that were taken by catechumens292 in order to complete their initiation. Moreover, these baptismal pamphlets shed light on the tropes associated with the stages of initiation, giving insight into which values and identity markers were ritually associated with the developing

Christian identity

The Didache, the earliest example of a baptismal instructional guide, states that an initiate could only be baptized after an instructional period, which appears to outline habits that would differentiate initiates from their contemporaries. The Didache is a document based in a

Jewish Christian community; its stipulations of certain behaviours for Christians suggest that this

292 The word “catechumen” being the standard term for a Christian initiate who being instructed- the catechesis- prior to their baptism. See: Bradshaw, The Search for the Origins of Christian Worship, 34. 88 community was attempting to mark itself out from a broader Jewish context. The text mentions that the initiate:

πρὸ δὲ τοῦ βαπτίσματος προνεηστευάτω ὁ βαπτίζων καὶ ὁ βαπτιζόμενος καὶ εἴ τινες ἄλλοι δύνανται. κελεύις δὲ νηστεῦσαι τὸν βαπτιζόμενον πρὸ μιᾶς ἥ δύο. Αἱ δὲ νηστεῖαι υμων μὴ ἔστωσαν μετὰ των ὑποκριτῶν νηστεύσουσι γὰρ δευτέρα σαββάτων καὶ πέμπτῃ/ (But) before the baptism let him the baptizer and he who will be baptized fast, and any others also who are able; and you will order he who will be baptized to fast a day or two before. And do not let your fasting be with the hypocrites, for they fast on the second and the fifth day of the week Didache 7:6-8:1)

From this stipulation, the text suggests that the preparatory period was meant to instil a sense of separation between the readers of the Didache and the non-Christians of their community. It notably prescribes that Christians pray three times a day and fast on Wednesdays and Fridays, rather than the typically Jewish fast days (Didache 7:6- 8:3). These new habits are in conjunction with the “preparatory” period for baptism when the initiate should be baptized

“having first taught/recited all these things” (Didache 7:6- 8:1). It does suggest that initiates should fast before partaking in the baptism, implying that fasting was a component of overall initiation. It also suggests that the ceremony was attended by participants apart from the initiate and the ritual agent (those attendances were also expected to fast).

The referenced baptismal water retains vestiges of earlier connotations of ritual purification. It is not discussed in conjecture with a dying and rising Christ, or described as a

“seal,” or “mark” of Christ’s flock- metaphors that will strongly shape later baptismal discourse.

It strongly implies that immersive baptism was the preferred method. In such a natural body of water, full immersion (rather than affusion/pouring) is the standard practice. The Didache reads as follows:

περὶ δὲ τοῦ βαπτίσματοσ οὕτω βαπτίσατε ταῦτα πάντα προειποντεσ, βαπτίσατε εἰς τὸ ὄνομα τοῦ πατρὸσ καὶ τοῦ υιοῦ καὶ του αγίου πνεύματοσ ἔν ὕδατι ζῶντι./ About/Concerning the baptism (full immersion), so immerse yourself, saying all this first/before; Immerse into the name Father and of the son and of the holy spirit in living water (Didache 7:1-7:3)

Due to New Testament precedent, scholars have traditionally understood “ζῶντι” water to

refer to running water, where the water “lives” (runs) rather than remains still; this contextually

refers to rivers.293 The passage, however, can be read as offering affusion as an alternative to the

full immersive precedent of New Testament. “Living” water was preferred, but the ceremony

could still be performed with some other kind if it was unavailable.294

It is important to note that the Durene Christians, who broke with this stipulation, could

have used the Euphrates River to conduct their baptisms. They could have also built a baptistery

closer to the river, or they could have made direct use of flowing water by building the baptistery

nearer to the aqueduct in the Northern part of the city. That they didn’t choose either option

shows a choice to disregard the standard, early connection between baptism and running rivers.

The baptism ceremony, as can be gleaned from the Didache, was as an initiation with the

following components. Baptism was preceded by a period of teaching. The baptism itself was

expected to be completed after teachings were instilled, and after the initiate had completed a

one-to-two day fast. The ceremony was expected to be attended by a “baptizer” and witnesses.

The baptism itself was prescribed to occur as an immersion into running, cold water or, if

necessary, other arrangements could be made. The ceremony that emerges is an intentional,

planned, communal initiation. Though the stages for baptism are rudimentary at this point, the

293 Jensen, Living Water, 180-181. 294 There is also a prescription for “pouring’ (εκχηον) if vast quantities of “living water’ are not available. For additional information, please also see Jensen, Living Water, 138. 90 different components of Christian initiation are clearly outlined. They will be further elabourated in the Didascalia.

The Didascalia shows a notably more developed ritual program. It discusses an instructional, teaching program of unspecified duration. During this time, the Christian initiate is instructed to take a sponsor for baptism to whom they are unrelated. The text states that:

Nor let a man take a (fellow-) sponsor of baptism, nor a man who is related to him in race for five generations (Didascalia 22:XVI [Gibson]).295

The instructional period referred to in the Didascalia involves instances of teaching, repentance of sins and idolatries, and periods of fasting. Again, these appear to be associated with a period of ritual purification. The text states that:

And then do thou, O bishop, command him to come in, and examine him whether he be repentant. And if he is worthy to be received into the Church, appoint him days of fasting according to his offence, two or three weeks, or five, or seven; and so dismiss him that he may depart, saying to him whatever is right for admonition and instruction… that he may be found worthy of the forgiveness of sins: (Didascalia XIX [Connolly].296

At this point of Christian development, both the instructional period and the baptismal initiation are presided by a Church leader, referred to here as “bishop.” The text also refers to baptismal participants, the deacon/deaconess who have a prescribed role in the ritual. In the

Didascalia, the deacons and deaconesses are instructed to anoint the catechumens before their baptism occurs. This step is not mentioned in the Didache; here, it is mentioned as a preceding step to immersion into water. This anointing necessitates the catechumen’s disrobing, and is to be done by deacons of the same sex as the initiates. The prescription is as follows:

Also, because in many other matters the office of a woman deacon is required. In the first place, when women go down into the water, those who go down into the water ought (p. 71) to be anointed by a deaconess with the oil of anointing…not fitting that women

295 Didascalia Apostolorum in Syriac Chapter 22:XVI, trans. by Margaret Dunlop Gibson. 296 The Didascalia Apostolorum-The Syriac Version Chapter XIX, trans, introduction and notes by R. Hugh Connolly, 161-162. 91

should be seen by men:? but with the imposition of hand do thou anoint the head only. As of old the priests and kings were anointed in Israel, do thou in like manner, with the imposition of hand, anoint the head of those who receive baptism…— let a woman deacon, as we have already said, anoint the women. (Didascalia XVI. [Connolly]).

The passage implies that the “baptizer” and the “anointer” were different people, emphasizing the participatory, communal nature of Christian initiation. The baptism itself coincides with the laying of hands on the initiate by the bishop. At certain parts of the text, the baptism is considered taking the Holy Spirit through the rite, or through the imposition of hands. At other points, baptism (the immersion) is considered to be taking the seal. The workings of the baptism itself are described as such:

And when she who is being baptized has come up from the water, let the deaconess receive her, and teach and instruct her how the seal of baptism ought to be (kept) unbroken in purity and holiness. For this cause we say that the ministry of a woman deacon is especially needful and important (Didascalia XVI, [Connolly]).”

In addition to the baptism occurring in a theoretically outdoor setting, the catechumen was appears to have been disrobed and baptized naked, necessitating the deaconess’ involvement. This would necessitate the inclusion of a third party in order to perform the anointing of the naked body- stipulated here to be a deacon or deaconess. The text also implies that genders and different ages were to be baptized at different times.

Immersion is once again implied to have been the preferred type of baptism, with the initiate directed to “come up from the water” (Didascalia XVI, [Connolly]). Where the recently baptized went, or from which water they arose is left unstated in the Didascalia. The text is also concerned with the expectations placed on the catechumen, and their role in the development of the “Church” as community. The Didascalia, therefore, is lacking in specific details about baptism performance- it tells us little about where the baptism should occur, other than in some place wherein one can be immersed in water. It tells us little about when the baptism might

92 occur, other than after a period of teaching, repentance, and religious instruction. It is very specific, however, as to organization of the Christian community, both pre and post-initiation.

Baptism, as outlined by the Didascalia, is far more clearly a communal endeavour. It notes the involvement of sponsors, the qualifications needed for bishops, and ascribes certain ritual roles for community members. The Didascalia instructs the Christian initiate to take a sponsor for baptism to whom they are unrelated, suggesting that the unit of a Christian group was

(theoretically) a non-biological one. The text stipulates a thorough repentance required both for pre-baptized and post-baptized members of the community (Didascalia VI, [Connolly]) and it also explicitly outlines specific ritualistic roles for particular community members of importance.

The community that the Didascalia describes through ritual was one that was exclusive and marked out from their pagan counterparts. The Didascalia begins to indicate a clear, physicalized boundary between the Christian community and their non-Christian contemporaries.

It describes pagans as being afflicted by demons, who are cast out directly by Christ or through the following of him; those who are wicked or evil, like demons, will be “driven out from the

Church,” (Didascalia VI [Connolly]) and removed from the Christian community. The connection between non-Christians and demons in Didascalia creates a framework wherein

Christians are differentiated in their absence of evils and demons. Therefore, the ideal community outlined by the Didascalia is one that includes sealed, holy, and purified individuals, described as “sealed” after their initiation (Didascalia X, [Connolly]). The sense of “sealing” through baptism further connotes a “Church/ekklesia” (Didascalia X, trans. Connolly) that exists as a threshold that demons may not enter. Therefore, Christian identity, as ritually described in this text is closely connected to communal structure and purification.

In summary, the Didascalia adds several more stages to the initiation process. These

were performed as follows: The catechesis was marked by the assigning of a sponsor. The

baptism was stated to occur when the catechumen was naked. The catechumen was anointed

while naked, necessitating the participation of a deacon or deaconess in the performance. Finally,

the community as further defined as physically purified of demons.

The stages of initiation are even more explicit in the Apostolic Tradition. The text,

attributed to Hippolytus, preserves the Didascalia’s general baptism pattern- one that includes a

“training period,” disrobing, anointing, and full-body immersive baptism by a Bishop. However,

it is far more detailed in terms of some of the particulars of these steps. For example, it is in this

text that we gain some insight into the degree of separation between the Christian initiates and

the baptized Christian community.

The Apostolic Tradition further confirms the structuring of Christian initiation around a

training period, referred to here as the catechesis stage. The document does not describe exactly

what that catechesis entails, but it does note that the catechumens are not granted admittance to

certain communal rituals in Christian life. The text makes mention of the separation of the

catechumens from the rest of the Christian community during their training stage.297 It states:

the catechumens will pray by themselves, separate from the faithful. The women will also pray in another place in the church, by themselves, whether faithful women or catechumen women. After the catechumens have finished praying, they do not give the kiss of peace, for their kiss is not yet pure. (Hippolytus, Apostolic Tradition 21: 7).

The text also describes the need for exorcisms prior to baptism, completed by the

bishop’s “laying of hands” (Hippolytus, Apostolic Tradition 21:7). Though the “laying of hands”

297 As stated in Bradshaw, Early Christian Worship, 8, the catechesis stage for the contemporary communities for this text was three years long. 94 is mentioned frequently in the Didascalia, it is connected to the ordination of Bishops or to the forgiveness of sins. It is directly stipulated as a mark of exorcism and purification in the

Apostolic Tradition. These exorcisms, conducted through direct contact with a bishop, appear to occur frequently throughout the catechesis period. This implies that initiates come into contact with Christians frequently, but they are not are permitted to partake in certain, ritualized markers of Christian life- namely, the “kiss of peace.” Further purification must be undertaken before the initiate can fully be enveloped into Christian life.

The baptism itself is stated to occur after a series of purifications and exorcisms, and a timeline is given for baptismal proceedings. The event officially is said to begin in the evening, prefaced with an all-night vigil, during which the initiates would fast (fasting also being stipulated in the Didache). During this vigil, the catechumens would be exorcised one final time before the ceremony. The baptism itself is set for sunrise, stipulated here as “at cockcrow”- a term that indicates, from the Greek and Sahidic, that the dawn should just be rising (αλεκτωρ)

(Hippolytus, Apostolic Tradition 21:1).

As in the Didascalia, the catechumens were disrobed prior to going down to the water

(Hippolytus, Apostolic Tradition 21:3). The water here is identified in the text as a running, outdoor source. The Apostolic Tradition notably concurs with the idea of “living” water from the

Didache. Here, however, any place that has pure and flowing water is acceptable for the baptismal ritual, so long as it is “trickling into the pool,” (as states the closest Greek equivalent-

κολυμβήθρα- in the Sahidic version text. Hippolytus, Apostolic Tradition 21:3). After being exorcised of demons, the initiates went down to a source of running water and were anointed.

The text describes numerous prayers over oil and the human body and uses the word “sealed” when unction is complete (Hippolytus, Apostolic Tradition 21:7). The text gives an indication

95 that oil is associated with health and purification, the prayer over the oil, being described in the

Coptic translation as “healing” (Hippolytus, Apostolic Tradition 21:4).

After being anointed, the catechumens were blessed and baptized (the word βαπτζειν being directly transliterated into the Sahidic copy of the text- Hippolytus, Apostolic Tradition

21:8-9) three times. The text states that they are:

And the one who gives will put his hand on the head of the one who receives and dip him three times, confessing… Do you believe in our Lord Jesus Christ (Hippolytus, Apostolic Tradition, 21:14-15).

They were then marked with the final anointing of oil on the forehead, and given the

“kiss” from the bishop, indicating their absorption into the Christian community (Hippolytus,

Apostolic Tradition 21:23). They then redressed and rejoined the community and other catechumens in order to take Eucharist “in the church (Hippolytus, Apostolic Tradition 21:39).

Summarized, the ritual steps of the Apostolic Tradition are as follows. The baptism was to be preceded by a training period that allows for ritualistic purification. As their initiation approached, the catechumens were separated by age and sex in order to complete their initiation.

This teaching stage culminated in an all-night vigil, during which the initiates fasted and were exorcized of demons. At daybreak, the catechumens were disrobed, anointed with oil by a deacon/deaconess, and a prayer was said over the oil. Upon completion of the unction, they were lead to a “spring” or some other source of running water. The initiate was then immersed, three times, into the water by the bishop. Completing this, they were given the kiss of peace and brought to join the “ekklesia.”

Though the Apostolic Tradition is attributed to the Western part of the Roman Empire, later narrative accounts of baptism show a similarly staged process. The Acts of Thomas, specifically, depicts a multi-staged initiation process, suggesting that this ritual pattern gained

96 some degree of acceptance in a wide range of Christian communities. In the Acts of Thomas, the baptism occurs within a narrative, and the narrative logic understandably governs the ritual actions it describes. Nevertheless, its descriptions of baptisms provide a basis for assessing the normative features of the ritual program. For example, Thomas baptizes five initiates throughout the course of the narrative; in all instances, but one, the “seal,” is referred to in conjuncture to a process of anointing with oil. The oil is associated with the Messiah when applied to the forehead in two instances, and with a full-body application of healing in two others (as read in

Acts of Thomas 27).298 This suggests that anointing was an expected 3rd century part of the baptism performance, and that it was associated with protective sealing- like the “baptismal seal,” of the Didascalia- or mark of Christian belonging. Anointing is also shown to precede baptismal immersion (Acts of Thomas 27). It is connected, as in the Apostolic Tradition, to a condition of purification, with the apostle notably describing the post-baptismal state as one of retained purity, with bodily ills being healed through acceptance of Christ (Acts of Thomas 27).

The account that does not include anointing still refers to the “seal,” of baptism as a "seal of protection" against possession; the baptized individual is still given the “seal” and then, in turn, is "sealed" against evil (Acts of Thomas 27).

The Acts of Thomas is more specific in placing baptismal event, due to the setting needs of narratives. Notably, it places baptism scenes in indoor settings. Scholars date the Acts of the

Thomas to the early 3rd century299, which is contemporaneous Apostolic Tradition: however, this implies that a baptism be undertaken near an outdoor source of water. Each baptism in the Acts of Thomas, on the other hand, occurs indoors. The Acts states that:

298 The Acts of Thomas: Introduction, Text, and Commentary, translated by A. F. J. Klijn, (Leiden: BRILL, 2003), Chapter 27, 80. ProQuest Ebook Central. 299 A.F.J. Klijn. “Introduction” in The Acts of Thomas : Introduction, Text, and Commentary, 2-3. 97

The king gave orders that the bath should be closed for seven days, and that no man should bathe in it: and when the seven days were done, on the eighth day they three entered into the bath by night that Judas might baptize them. And many lamps were lighted in the bath…(Acts of Thomas 26).

This discrepancy between the various liturgical Christian pamphlets and the narrative depictions of baptism reinforces the idea of variance in 2nd/3rd century Christian practice. In the

Acts of Thomas, however great the variance, the general pattern of the baptism ceremony remains. Baptisms coincides with exorcisms of demons, as seen in the passage about the possessed demons, and exorcism of such demons are administered by the laying of hands.

The typical baptismal progression of the Acts of Thomas is as follows, as taken from the baptism of Mygdonia:

And he took the oil, and cast (it) on her head and said: “Holy oil, which was given to us for unction… which is seen through it Jesus Christ, life and health, and the remission of sins- let your power come and abide by this oil, and let your holiness dwell in it…. And he cast it upon the head of Mygdonia and said: “Heal her wounds and wash away her sores, and strengthen her weakness.” He told her nurse to anoint her… and he fetched a basin for their conduit. And Judas went up… and baptized Mygdonia in the name of the Father and Son and the Spirit of Holiness (Acts of Thomas 121).

In this section, baptism was performed as both a final remission of sins and in order to transform identity. Prayers were said, and the initiate was anointed by pouring oil onto the head.

They were then “baptized” with a vessel, suggesting that water was poured over them as well as another prayer was said. They were then given the Eucharist as a “new person” in a new community.

Concluding Remarks:

This chapter has focused on the role of place in the development of the Durene Christian community. I have analyzed the larger context of Dura-Europos insofar that it had a conditioning role on the day-to-day lives of the Christians living there. Specifically, they were a community

conditioned by their lives in a city that was militaristic, under constant threat of invasion, and

that was defined by its borders and defences. At the same time, Dura’s border location made it

necessarily pluralistic and diverse. Neither of these qualities was compromised by Roman

occupation; instead, the Romanization of Dura-Europos reinforced both the militarism and

plurality of the site. Romanization also coincided with an increased religiosity in the city, with a

notable interest in initiation-based religiosity. It is within this movement that the Durene

Christians worked to affirm their own expression of “Christianity.” Like other Durene

communities, they employed specific, religious place-making and defined key elements of their

distinctiveness in religious terms. Namely, the Christian community at Dura associated their key,

identifiable place (the House Church) with the initiation ritual that “creates” a new Christian-

baptism.

In order to discuss baptism as an initiation ritual, I reviewed key baptismal texts that

stipulated the stages of Christian development. The general pattern for baptismal initiation, by

the time of Dura’s activity, involved the training of the catechumens before the baptism could

even be broached.300 The completion of this training phase was marked with an all-night vigil,

during which the catechumens fasted, and may have been subject to exorcisms. They were then

disrobed, anointed with oil through the imposition of hands, and exorcized a final time. At this

point, the “baptism” as it is commonly understood would have been conducted, with water

(preferably “running/living” water) being poured over the catechumens as prayers were said.

This “affusion” of water could have occurred up to three times. After it was complete, a final

mark of oil was often made, “sealing” the event. The catechumens were then able to receive the

300 The timeframe for this catechesis, of course, was also subject to regional variance. Because Dura’s House Church and community bears material evidence of a planned catechesis phase, I will retain the Apostolic Tradition’s timeframe of a three-year catechesis period). For further information, please see the fifth Chapter of this work, pertaining to the discussion of the Courtyard and Original House Room 5. 99 kiss of peace from the bishop, marking their inclusion into the Christian community after a period of marked separation. They were then re-dressed and ushered into some form of communal gathering to take the Eucharist. At this point, the catechumen becomes a neophyte, a recently initiated member of the Christian community.

A simple outline of the various stages of baptism does little to stipulate where the ritual should occur. However, the Durene community clearly felt that their initiation ritual needs were better serviced by a specific, indoor space- one similar to the baths present in their community, and obliquely referred to in the Acts of Thomas. A consideration of their specific, Durene conditioning gives some insight into this choice. As stated previously, the community had access to the running waters of the river Euphrates. Contextually, however, this river was not a theological construct; it was a natural part of Dura’s defense. The Durene Christians likely considered the river a defensive border rather than an example of “living water.” Their Durene familiarity with initiation-style rituals, however, left them more likely to consider a sealed, insular place as more appropriate for baptism. Moreover, they would also be familiar with the communal, structured nature of Roman bath houses; these arenas apparently spoke more readily to their initiation needs than an outdoor river did.

Having outlined the anticipated performance of Christian baptism from early sources, I will now investigate how a specific place was used in order to inscribe this ritual and initiate new, Durene members into a Christian community. The material remains of the Durene House

Church and Baptistery provide insight into how these ritual stages became physical realities, and

“placed” in a way that supported ritual movement. The placement of the ritual stages also speaks to the way initiation was instilled through a “body-and-place” ballet; initiation was successful insofar that the body was habituated into a specific, ritual place. The following chapter will

100 investigate the renovations of the House Church, with ritual consideration being my main priority. I will analyze the renovations insofar as they facilitate or deviate from this anticipated baptismal pattern. The following chapter will focus primarily on renovations made to the

Original Durene House ferried the body through space in a particular, meaningful way.

101

CHAPTER 4: The House Church as an Initiation Place

Preamble: My previous chapter established that Dura-Europos was, due to its location and its

history, a deeply pluralist place. During the activity of the Christian House Church, the city was

occupied by Rome and served as an important military centre for the Romans. The population of

Dura, therefore, existed alongside this strong Roman presence, which was, in and of itself,

militarized and heavily pluralistic in the context of religious life. The Christian House Church is

one of many diverse religious places in Dura that received renovations, expansions, and greater

attendance during the Roman era. It stands alongside the Mithraeum, the Jewish synagogue, and

many renovated, expanded temples as sites that served as key places to a diverse network of

communities in Dura. For all its diversity, much of the population of Dura appeared to be

engaged in a similar wave of place-making activity. I argued previously that, far from resisting

Romanization, Dura’s inhabitants consistently participated in the characteristic markers of a

Roman locale- regardless of language or cultural affiliation, they lived Roman lives. One key

facet of Durene Roman life was religious participation. Moreover, across Dura, religious

participation often took the form of initiatory behaviour.

It is little mystery as to why initiation-based religiosity flourished in pluralist Dura. In a

pluralist setting, specific identities were created, and specific communal identity affirmed, by

ritualistically bringing an initiate from the outside into a new, more exclusive community of

“insiders." Specific places, given the material evidence, were devoted to facilitating ritual

initiation. Durene religious places support the idea that ritual was a primary mode through which

exclusive facets of identity were instilled and communicated.301 This sort of exclusivity was

301 Christians in Dura seem to operate much in the same way that the Mithraists did; they did not forgo participation in Dura, nor did they sequester their community off, away from their non-Christian contemporaries. Instead, they

102

defined by the ritual itself. The initiate was not expected to forsake their previous life; instead,

their habits, values, and identifiable symbols were realigned and reprioritized. Through ritualistic

movement, an initiate was literally “moved” into a new place, one defined by a new set of habits

and a new mode of being was represented. The inhabitation (even temporarily) of such a place

conveyed their belonging to a more exclusive group. Through such movement throughout a key,

identifiable place, the previous identity of the initiate was, in a sense, realigned to prioritize new

habits and identity markers. The Christian House Church at Dura is one such place, a place

explicitly built to facilitate the ritualization of a body as it acquired the defining, prioritized

features of another identity.

As discussed in the first chapter of this work, earlier studies regarded the Durene House

Church as a reflection or prototype of the domus ecclesia, whose main function focused on the

gathering of the community for Eucharist. A thorough investigation of the renovations of the

house speaks to different primary use for the building. I will argue, in this chapter, that the

excavations of the House Church show a renovation record which transformed a domicile into an

initiation space. Like the other initiation spaces in Dura, the house church was a place wherein

distinctive, new identity layers of distinctive communities could be introduced, instilled, and

communicated. This chapter seeks to examine these renovations as defining “Christian place” in

a Roman, militaristic, pluralist environment. The physical, material changes of the Original

House show a community’s deliberate consideration of how a place could be shaped,

specifically, to aid in the initiation of new members. However else the building may have used, it

seem to rely on a specific initiation ritual that allows them exclusive access to a definably “Christian” place in order to communicate their “Christian identity. Christians were “Christian” insofar that they underwent this initiation, and visited this special place; their “Christianity” did not appear negate other elements of their Durene lives or identities. For further information, please see Beck, The Religion of the Mithras Cult in the Roman Empire, 87-90. 103

was built with baptism in mind, a ritualized initiation which involved multiple areas of the House

Church (and not only the Baptistery).

The renovations will be cross referenced with the baptismal “stages” and themes that

were outlined in the previous chapter. By comparing the extant material remains with

stipulations from the baptismal pamphlets, one can piece together how the ritual prescriptions

were interpreted by the building community, and how they interpreted their initiation ritual as a

place-making event. The materiality, in other words, reflects how the baptismal ritual was

actually practiced by the Durene community. The impact of the ritual on individual, ritualized

identity will be addressed in the next chapter, through a more thorough consideration of the

Baptistery and its minutiae.

The Original House and Its Renovations:

The standard scholarly view is that the building began its lifespan as a domestic residence

and was later consciously renovated to accommodate baptism and eucharistic rituals, as well as

Christian meetings. After this renovation, it did not function as a domicile, as there is little

evidence of multi-person domesticity in the church’s excavated form.302 The significant attention

afforded to the Baptistery problematically characterizes it as the “cultic” area of the house, in

some sort of opposition to the other, “non-cultic” rooms.303 Though Room 6 (the room that

would eventually became the Baptistery) was certainly subject to extensive renovations, it was

not the only part of the Original House that was altered. A closer examination of the renovations

302 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 9. 303 The Durene House’s “Assembly Hall”- Room 4 of the original house- has been studied by Ramsay MacMullen, and scholars generally conclude that it played a role in Christian sermonizing. However, as it resembles a Durene andron, or living room, it is continuously treated as a communal/domestic area; the room’s cultic function as part of the same baptism ritual has not fully been addressed. MacMullen, The Second Church, 4-5.

104

to the Original House strongly suggest that the entire space (not only the Baptistery) was

transformed in order to facilitate Christian initiation ritual.304

COURTYARD – Insider Space, Outsider Space and Graffiti

The courtyard, an area common to both Hellenic and Roman homes, was the first point of

access into a Durene home.305 The courtyard renovations to the Original House are easily

overlooked, as they do not profoundly change the functioning of the space. Nevertheless,

renovations were made to this area. That the courtyard of the Original House was altered at all

speaks to the all-pervasiveness of the ritual concerns; the structural changes were relatively

minor, but they convey that this space was immediately distinctive from the typical domestic

residence. The courtyard of the Original House was very typical for domiciles within Dura

Europos. Durene courtyards, were “open” spaces, but they were not especially welcoming ones,

especially from the street view.306 They tended towards introversion, meaning that there was

little visual access into the courtyard when viewing it from the street (there are minimal

windows, for example). They also necessarily accommodated the locale practicalities of a desert

environment; the fountains that characterize many Roman courtyards are understandably absent

from arid Dura.307 The Christian church’s courtyard was not particularly large or luxurious, but it

was neither more introverted nor sparse than the Durene precedent would suggest. By Durene

304 For clarity, I will refer to the “Durene house,” as “the Original house.” This is consistent with Kraeling’s description and terminology, though he uses the term “Private House.” As I wish to avoid a discussion of how “private” Durene houses were in this context, I use “Original,” to refer to the building’s pre-Church life. This is in contrast to “the House Church,” or, where appropriate, the Baptistery. 305 Baird, The Inner Lives of Ancient Houses, 67. 306 Baird, The Inner Lives of Ancient Houses, 120. 307 Perkins argues that the Durene house model is directly related to Parthian building precedent; Roman occupants of Parthian-era houses did not typically change the original courtyards of their forbearers. Perkins, The Art of Dura- Europos, 24.

105 standards, it was reasonably spacious and accommodating. The space was further opened through the placement of a portico at the east section of the courtyard. Excavation of the courtyard yielded gypsum slab with circle308- this was undoubtedly a latrine at certain point in the house’s lifespan. Nevertheless, at the time of excavation, the existing “latrine” was filled in, serving no practical use.309 No permanent kitchen was uncovered at the house, though this is typical of houses in the city.310 That being said, the house’s courtyard did not show signs of large-scale food storage; containers for which were found in both the courtyards and storage rooms of other, large-scale Durene domiciles.311 In addition to this, a small staircase leading into the Western Room 6 was lowered, suggesting that this room would be less regularly accessed from the courtyard after the renovations were completed. Benches lined all functional walls to the courtyard as long unbroken pieces of plastered rubble, running from The Original House’s

Room 4 to Room 5, and again to the Vestibule Room (termed Room 8 by Kraeling).312 Though courtyards were always “waiting” areas, open spaces for public congregation in a domestic setting, the renovations resulted in a more expansive open area; one that could accommodate a population influx. The resultant courtyard was apparently renovated with anticipation of being traversed more regularly than during its lifespan as a domicile. The “floor” of the courtyard was also inlaid with tile, giving the ground more traction for inhabitants, and making the area more formal in appearance.313 Door jambs around the courtyard were re-plastered, and graffiti was etched into the jambs, occurring around Room 4 and Room 6; the graffiti around Room 6

308 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos,, 11. 309 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 11. 310 Baird, The Inner Lives of Ancient Houses,130. 311 Baird, The Inner Lives of Ancient Houses, Appendix H. 312 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 11-12. 313 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 12.

106

dedicates the immediate area to “God in heaven,” which communicates a re-contextualization of

the courtyard from a domestic to a sacred area, one with an explicitly Christian character.314 In

this sense, the courtyard, a house’s most porous relationship to the world outside of it, was

intentionally altered to create an identifiably religious space; this religious space was

(tentatively) a non-pagan one.

The renovations made to the courtyard’s portico also suggest that it was changed to

accommodate a greater influx of people, and to formalize the overall appearance of the

courtyard. The portico was colonnaded- a common feature in public buildings of Dura’s agora

during Romanization, which suggests a more “public” conceptualization of the space. Though

Durene houses had courtyards with porticos, they were not typically colonnaded 315 and the

portico was primarily an area for food preparation, food storage or water storage;316 the cellars

that are typically excavated beneath a portico further speak to this function.317 Not only was the

Original House’s portico colonnaded, but it yielded no signs of cookery or food storage.318 An

aperture in the portico suggests that a shallow cellar was originally included beneath the portico,

but this cellar was filled-in and useless at the time of excavation.319 The overall impression of the

renovated courtyard is that it was a space re-designed to accommodate additional traffic, and that

it was made more “open.” It resembled the public businesses of the Durene agora, rather than the

typical courtyards of Durene domiciles.320

314 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 12. 315 Baird notes that Durene residences of this period were not colonnaded, but Temples commonly were. The dolichenaeum to Jupiter, is one example of such Temple building. Baird, The Inner Lives of Ancient Houses, 48. 316 Baird, The Inner Lives of Ancient Houses, 50. 317 Baird, The Inner Lives of Ancient Houses, 50. 318 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 13. 319 Research is inconclusive as to whether the cellar was deliberately filled in during renovation, or if its collapse and rubble were a product of the siege and subsequent abandonment of the city. Kraeling, Excavations at Dura- Europos, 13. 320 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 13. 107

The renovated courtyard appeared to have two main functions. The first is to indicate, at the entry point of the new building, that the space being entered is more formal and more ceremonial than the average domicile. The second was to hold a reasonably large number of people, comfortably, as indicated by the benches. Its role in the Christian House Church was as a

“waiting area,” which is not to say that it played no role in the initiation ritual. There is a temptation to view the “cultic spaces” of the house as the only spaces where ritual actively occurred, which has prevented the ritual use of the courtyard from being fully explored.

Kraeling offers two explanations as to the use of the courtyard, and both are possible.

Taking the ritualized functioning of the entire house as a main premise, those assembled in the courtyard were taking part in the place’s rituals. They may have been waiting for the commencement of the Eucharist;321 those who waited in the courtyard could also be

“catechumens,” the status assigned by Christian scholars to non-baptized initiates who were beginning their "catechesis" or training period.322 Kraeling suggests that the courtyard was likely expanded to accommodate an influx of the Christian community, and was especially important as a meeting area for the newly baptized. Kraeling also proposes that the courtyard may have functioned as a place wherein the Gospels were heard; he cites the theory of hearers and receivers, taken from Ephrem’s Hymni in Festum Epiphaniae.323 McMullen is content to identify the courtyard as “neutral area," which might, potentially accommodate overflow from

321 Associated with Room 4, which will be discussed later as the “Assembly Hall.” 322 Bradshaw, Early Christian Worship, 8-10. 323 Kraeling’s theory implies, therefore, that the “waiters” those who “wished to be associated in prayer,” rather than begin their own conversion. See, Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 155. However, in Origen’s Letters, it is stated that more trained, developed catechumens were entitled to hear Gospel sermons, and these “later stage” catechumens could also have been the waiters along these benches to hear such sermons. For additional information, see Robert E. Heine, Origen: Scholarship in the Service of the Church (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010), 170.

108

the Assembly Hall.324 My reading of the ritual texts, however, as well as the graffiti and dipiti of

the courtyard, leads me to hypothesize that the space was not neutral, but instead was primarily

designated for a particular initiation stage. The material evidence from both rooms more strongly

suggests that the courtyard was the primary teaching area during the catechesis, and thus, the

location of the “beginning” of the initiation process. Moreover, the courtyard’s main “role” in

the initiation process was to keep a marked distinction between the catechumens and the fully-

baptized members of the Christian community.

The ritual stages to baptism suggest that a designated space would be required for the

catechesis. Given the baptismal texts, this period of time could be extensive (1-3 years). It

would require a place for teaching, a place where the catechumen could “hear” the Gospels;325

but they could not fully participate in the Eucharist. The courtyard likely functioned as this

“formalized” place. If the courtyard’s main “role” in the initiation process was to keep a marked

distinction between the catechumens and the fully-initiated members of the Christian

community, then the courtyard did not merely hold an influx of people. Instead, it was designed

as a place that would be populated for a lengthy period of time. At the same time, the renovations

were not merely spatial or practical. The courtyard, with its ornate tiling and colonnaded portico,

was a visually different sight from the other residences, and it was immediately more formal.326

The courtyard was reminiscent of Roman temples; temples that, prior to Christian catechesis,

would theoretically have been frequented habitually.327 Habitually to going this “new” courtyard,

324 MacMullen, The Second Church, 3-4. MacMullen's analysis suggests that the courtyard would not have to function, primarily, as a place for overflow, as the dimensions of the Assembly Hall suggest that attendance was low. He also acknowledges that the benches in the courtyard could hypothetically be used during meals, but that this seems extremely unlikely, given the perceived population of the Christian community at Dura. (5). 325 Heine, Origen: Scholarship in the Service of the Church, 170. 326 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 9. 327 Perkins, The Art of Dura Europos, 25. 109 with these formal signifiers, would begin to re-orient ritualistic behaviour around a new centre.

In essence, it functioned to establish the practices and places associated with Christian identity. It replaced and provided a new place for a practice well-known in Roman life. The changes made were habitual, more a process of re-centering Roman place-habits than casting them away. The metaphor of place-and-body ballet can help explain how this habituation would be successful in

Dura. Durene life during Roman occupation was, as was discussed in the previous chapter, one characterized by religiosity and rituals. Regular attendance of Temples and other ceremonial, sacred places would be a frequent pattern of movement for Durene; the movements to-and-from sacred spaces would be a deeply instilled component of the Durene “place-ballet.” The movement in and around these places is a major part of Durene locale, which of course has a conditioning effect on the identities of its populace. Changing a key place within this locale- and having the body regularly move towards a new place- would result in the cultivation of a new habit, a newly choreographed “ballet.”328 As David Seamon and Christina Nordin argue, individual, civil identity is profoundly affected by this unconscious, day-to-day dance of inhabitance.329 In order to slowly cultivate a new layer of identity, the catechumen must have new, “Christian” habits instilled. The renovated courtyard, seen recurrently in a lengthy catechumenate, was both familiar (as it resembled Roman sacred space) and new to the catechumen (as it no longer resembles a domestic courtyard). Similarly, their “place-ballet” would be both familiar and new, orienting the familiar, regular attendance of sacred temples around a new place.330 The spatial changes to the courtyard suggest that it was meant to be seen,

328 Cresswell, Place: An Introduction, 64. 329 Cresswell, Place: An Introduction, 64. 330 Like that of Kraeling, my analysis of Dura points towards Roman pagan citizens as the primary recipients of Christian missionary efforts. The Jewish community does not appear to have been subject to significant proselytization. For this reason, it seems most logical that the Durene initiates would be familiar with Roman day-to-

110 and that it was meant to convey a difference of place. The immediate effect, for the catechumens entering the vicinity in order to begin their catechesis, would be the approaching of a place that was recognizably ceremonial, and associated with religiosity. In a sense, as the primary point of entry into the Durene House Church, the courtyard served to signal that one has entered religious space, rather than more generalized public space.

To use the terminology of Catherine Bell, the courtyard was the space in which a body first begins the ritualization process.331 It had the space and the benches required to accommodate waiting catechumens. More importantly, it communicated to initiates what

“Christian place” entails. The courtyard- and the inhabitants of it- were “separated” from the interior rooms of the House Church through the use of apotropaic dipinti. These dipinti, dated to the time of renovation, occur around points of entry into the inner rooms of the house, and they appear to have deliberately marked out from the rest of the building as space for “non-insiders.”

In order to make sense of the need to spatialize insiders from outsiders in the community, it is worth noting that the stages of Christian initiation, as outlined from the early texts, work to keep the catechumens close, but markedly outside of the Christian community. Origen’s writings outline a structured, layered processes to the catechesis period, one referenced by Hippolytus as well. According to both sources, catechumens were given provisional access to sermons and the like, but were differentiated by a lack of participation in the “kiss of peace,” and underwent exorcism by a Bishop (Hippolytus, Apostolic Tradition 19:2). Origin’s letters indicate that catechumens could not listen to Gospel sermons until directly before their baptism;332 Hippolytus

day religious habits, rather than Jewish ones. For further information, please see Kraeling, Excavations at Dura Europos, 121. 331 Bell, Ritual Theory, Ritual Practice, 72-73. 332 Heine, Origen: Scholarship in the Service of the Church, 170. 111

stipulates a three-year catechesis period, in which “newcomers to the faith” could participate in

prayer, but not receive the “pure” kiss of peace (Hippolytus, Apostolic Tradition 18:3).

This Christian initiation ceremony physically moved the body of an outsider into a new

community, and thus instilled a new layer to the initiate’s identity. In the archeological record

for Dura, this process was reflected in the clear delineation of insider place, outsider place, and a

sort of intermediary space for the catechumens. Each zone was integral for the initiation process

to be fully complete. If the courtyard functioned as a means of separating the “outsiders” of the

Christian community- in this case, the catechumens- then the other rooms of the house, each

subject to some form of renovation, worked to bring them, increasingly, inside.

ROOM 5- Liminal Space:

Kraeling identifies a relatively large room as the "antecedent to the Christian Baptistery.”

It is labelled "Room 5” in the excavation reports of the site.333 Other than the door, Room 5 was

hardly a distinctive place. It had plain, un-plastered walls, with no other signs of decoration or

graffiti.334 It had several windows that allow visual access to the courtyard, but none that allow

incoming light from the oppositional street.335 The entrance into the “Western suite” (an area

including Room 5 and the Baptistery) was by way of a stone-trimmed, formal door, to the west

of the central courtyard.336 This door would lead people into and out of room Room 5, which is

was in turn the primary access point into the Baptistery.337 The connection between Room 5 and

333 I will retain this name for the purposes of this project. 334 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 22. 335 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 18. 336 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 18. 337 There is a door between the Baptistery and the Courtyard, but it is far more rudimentary and plain. The roughness and plainness of this secondary door suggests that it was likely not the “Processional entrance,” but rather allowed ritual assists to enter and exit the Baptistery inconspicuously to aid in the performance of baptism. Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 18. 112

Room 6 was by way of another elabourate door. Because neither Room 5 nor Room 6 were

especially important for the Original House, scholars conclude that the door connecting these

two rooms must have been made more elabourate as the house was renovated into a cultic space.

The walls were merely packed mud, and were not plastered during renovations. Room 5,

therefore, would have been relatively dark, despite its relatively spacious proportions.338 The

only major renovation undertaken to this room was an additional window added to its Southwest

corner, looking into the courtyard. There were benches outside of Room 5 in the courtyard, just

as there were benches outside of the Assembly Hall; this again allowed for a spatial distinction to

be established between those “inside” the room and those waiting directly outside of the room.339

That being said, Room 5 seemed to have been traversed by “outsiders,” unlike the Assembly

Hall. A red dipinto on the left door jamb in the entrance between Room 5 and the Baptistery

seems to serve a similarly prophylactic function as the dipinti in the courtyard- protecting the

enclosed Baptistery from external influences.340 There were no markers of explicitly Christian

identity from this Room, whether in the form of Christian slogans or graffiti’d names of studying

catechumen. The dipinti marking the left jamb of the door suggests that catechumens did not

have access to the Baptistery during their catechesis training.341

This sort of dipinti was also found around the door that separated Room 5 from the

Assembly Hall. As seen in the courtyard, the positioning of this signage suggests that there were

certain forces that need to be prevented from entering both the Baptistery342 and the Assembly

338 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 19. 339 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 19. 340 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 20. 341 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 94. 342 As justified by the dipinti on the door frame leading from Room 5 to the Baptistery, which will be discussed in more detail shortly.

113

Hall- implying that these “impure” forces could indeed have been present, in some form in

Room 5. On the one hand, there is graffiti on the western wall, south of the door which leads

from the courtyard to Room 5 itself. It reads “Δείου ί” likely referring to Dius, or September in

the Roman calendar.343 Kraeling notes that Hopkin’s original record reports two graffiti in this

area, though the second was far too faint upon excavation to be legible.344 A second line of

graffiti, using Syriac lettering rather than Greek, appears, in Kraeling’s estimation, to be far more

“prophylactic” in nature, comparable to inscriptions uncovered throughout first and second

century Syrian buildings.345 This marking suggests that there was some form of policing against

entering this room; unlike the courtyard, it appears that some degree of purification was required

before access was granted to Room 5. Moreover, some element of protection was also required

when moving from Room 5 into the Baptistery, and when moving from Room 5 into the

Assembly Hall.

The function of this room in the Original House is unknown, though it seems likely that it

would have been some sort of bedroom area.346 It is also difficult to concretely say how the room

was used during the lifespan of the Church. All scholars agree that, because of the large,

ceremonial door to Room 6, this Room would function as the ritualistic antecedent to Baptism.347

However, the earliest scholars of the excavation reports considered this area to be the main

teaching room for the catechesis. This argument is not altogether consistent with the material

343 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 91. 344 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 91. 345 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 91. 346 When the house was a house, it would have shared a wall with 4b; these “secondary suite” rooms are common in Durene domiciles (they have their own private entrance points)- long thought to be the “harem rooms” women quarters. This term is rather problematic; no evidence available can confirm how rigorously separated men and women were in Durene houses. The word is also emblematic of the “Orientalized” lens of early Durene scholarship- if this lens is retained, it may mischaracterize the later, ritualistic use of the Room as an area used to separate the genders. For additional information, please see Wharton, Reconfiguring the Post Classical City, 14-16. 347 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 153. See also MacMullen, The Second Church, 4. 114 evidence. The room could theoretically accommodate several people, but excavations have not provided any additional evidence to place students in this space. The post-renovation benches, which suggest waiting areas for Christian instruction, were placed outside of Room 5 and outside of the Assembly Hall; again, the implication is that the catechumens were able to sit and listen to the teachings (and sermons) of baptized Christians who were inside the House Church. There were no such benches excavated from within Room 5, and the Christian catechumenate likely held more people than could regularly be taught in this room, especially if, as per Hippolytus, the entire catechesis was to take three years of study and sponsorship (Hippolytus, Apostolic

Tradition, 20:1). Similarly, there was no excavated evidence of mats to sit upon, which were found in the renovated Room 4.348

Kraeling disavows the early scholarly notion that Room 5 was a “school room” or library.349 Furthermore, he cautions against assuming that feasts, such as the Agape Feast, occurred here, an assertion also questioned by Ramsay MacMullen, who notes that excavations yielded no items directly involved in food preparation.350 Kraeling observes that Room 5 could likely have a secondary function as an Assembly area for the women amongst the Christian community.351 This interpretation is certainly appropriate given the context of the Durene

Church; however, it is situated in the assumption that the primary “role” of the House Church was analogous to that of a modern church, with a primary focus on communal prayer. I believe that this argument weakens the connection between initiation, place, and identity that the

348 MacMullen, The Second Church, 6-7. 349 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 151. 350 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 153. 351 Kraeling’s argument is taken from the textual evidence that described Christian congregations as being segregated by gender. The texts I have chosen to analyze also speak to a segregated baptismal processional. However, there were many ways of interpreting this communal segregation, including having women pray together in the back of the Room 4 Assembly Hall, a choice Kraeling acknowledges is equally appropriate. 115 materiality of the site speaks to. If the Durene House Church was purpose-built, primarily, for initiation, then it seems logical that there were attempts to maintain a more purposeful separation between “insider,” “outsider,” and “intermediate” spaces than Kraeling allows. Room 5 was primarily used when this distinction became deliberately blurred. The material evidence, and knowledge of Christian ritual movement during initiation, does not support its reading as either a teaching area or an Assembly Hall.

The dipinti are some of the strongest pieces of evidence that hints as to this sort of separation occurring in place. I would argue that this separation was expressed in a different way than the mode Kraeling relies on. A “reading” of the dipinti suggests that Room 5 occupied an intermediary space between the “outsider space” of the courtyard, and the “insider” status ascribed to the Baptistery and the Assembly Hall. A key dipinti was used to mark out Room 5 from the Baptistery.352 Furthermore, the door between Room 5 and the Assembly Hall was similarly marked. The doorway that connected Room 5 and the former Room 4b353 of the

Assembly Hall yielded a small “greenish-blue glazed saucer,” on the side facing Room 5.354

These objects, frequently found in the excavations of Durene homes, have retained an apotropaic function into modern-day Arab-Syrian villages.355 This object was likely no mere hold out from the Domestic House; it seems to have been deliberately retained to further seal Room 4, or the

Assembly Hall from impurities; this implies that these “impure” forces may indeed be present, in some form in Room 5. This policing of movement does not make sense if Room 5 was either a preliminary teaching area, as scholars originally assumed, or an Assembly Area for fully

352 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 94. 353 The renovations made to “Room 4” will be discussed at a later point in this chapter. 354 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 21. 355 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 21. 116

baptized Christian women. Kraeling’s assertion is plausible, but unlikely. In having such a strong

role in identity creation, it is illogical to assume that fully baptized Christians would regularly

revisit it. There is nothing to suggest, of course, that Room 5 was not occasionally inhabited by

fully baptized Christians; for example, catechumens could wait outside of the room while fully

baptized Christians listened to the occasional sermon in the Assembly Hall.356 There would also

be fully baptized Christians within the Room in order to assist with exorcisms, which will be

discussed below.

Where Kraeling, MacMullen and I concur is in Room 5’s primary usage as a

“preparatory” room for the baptism ritual, and especially, as a room in which exorcisms could

occur.357 It was an ideal venue in which to make the direct preparations for the baptismal

ceremony. When Room 5 was first encountered in the baptismal ritual, it would be in a manner

that would mark it as extremely ceremonial. According to the Apostolic Tradition, initiates

would have performed their baptism after an all-night vigil night, which would be performed

during a fast (Hippolytus, Apostolic Tradition, 21:1). Room 5 provided an ideal venue in which

this fast and vigil could be (at least partially) performed. Hippolytus describes the vigil as

occurring at night, and ending at daybreak (Hippolytus, Apostolic Tradition, 21:1). Interestingly,

the darkened Baptistery contained an artistic depiction of “sunbursts,” mirroring this timeline

(light would be emerging as the initiates saw this painting.) Additionally, Hippolytus refers to a

final exorcism from demons occurring during the preparatory vigil. The idea that an initiate

356 Place categories are never absolute. There is always a “both/and” interpretation of each room’s functionality. Theoretically, Room 5 could have served several additional, and accidental uses for the Christian community. However, if the building was used primarily used for the initiation ritual, which includes catechesis, exorcisms, baptism and Eucharist, Room 5 could not be an Assembly area. Given that it appears to have functioned, first and foremost, as an initiation space, Room 5 was not likely to have been intentionally designed to accommodate any type of assembly or teaching. 357 MacMullen, The Second Church, 4-5. 117 could enter the interior of the House Church, through Room 5, and be purified one more time before entering the pure space of the Baptistery Chamber, is well-supported by the dipinti placement around both Room 5 and the Baptistery. The Apostolic Tradition specifically discusses the need for disrobing prior to anointing and baptism. The text states that jewelry must be removed and hair must be loosened prior to the baptism ceremony. Later, it stipulates that anointing must occur “and in this way, let him give himself naked to the bishop (Hippolytus,

Apostolic Tradition 21:11-12). Scholars are fairly certain that the catechumens in Dura would be anointed inside Baptistery; there was an anointing niche to the immediate left of the Baptistery's entrance along the South Wall of the space. Since the catechumens were likely disrobed prior to being anointed,358 they would have been disrobed prior to entering the baptistery directly, which strongly suggests that Room 5 was where this occurred.359

In having a preparatory role for baptism, Room 5 played a very important role in the ritual usage of the House. It was where catechumens were likely exorcized for a final time, and where they were disrobed. It was where they first encounter the ceremonial door that lead them to the intensely marked-off “insider” space of the Baptistery. It was also where they would re- robe in order to join the community in the equally enclosed Assembly Hall, taking the Eucharist that “completed” their full initiation. In both, circular, experiences of Room 5, Christian identity would be at its most liminal for the initiate. Room 5 was neither completely within or completely outside the Christian community. For this reason, I argue that the main effect of

Room 5 is that it placed liminality; it was here where the catechumens, having progressed far enough through their training, would have the most liminal identities- existing as non-Christians

358 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 113. 359 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 113. 118 who were nevertheless about to complete their initiation into the Christian community at large.

As an entrance into the baptistery, a role Room 5 almost certainly played, it placed the catechumens during the moment which was simultaneously the end of their “catechumen” status and the beginning of their existence as Christian insiders. During this stage, Christian identity was hinted at, but it is amorphous and developing. The eventual crossing into the Christian

Baptistery, after the completion of their catechesis, was immediately conveyed upon entrance into Room 5; there would be nothing noteworthy in the room except for the ornate door that leads into the (at this time) utterly unfamiliar Baptistery. By the time Room 5 was accessed, a crucial transformation of the catechumen’s identity had occurred, but their shape of their new identity had not been officially formulated. The knowledge gained during the catechesis, as well as the new people that the catechumen was exposed to, reoriented the catechumen's understanding of a community, and of the places associated with this new community. Through this process, the catechumen encountered the shape of a new community, and began to mimic the habits associated with this community. They were introduced to the community’s religion, and how this religion operates in a new place, without being admitted full access to this new place itself. However, the acquiring of this the identity would not occur until the new place- the

Christian House church- was officially entered within this initiation context. In this sense, Room

5, connecting the external world of courtyard and the internal world of the Christian places (i.e.: the Baptistery and the Assembly Hall) provided a place for liminal, changing identities. It would play this role again, when the liminality of newly acquired identity was once again held in dialectical contrast to the communal unity one seeks. Bell, working from Victor Turner, describes ritual as mediating between social competitiveness, individuation, and communal

119

unity.360 Though Turner and Bell discuss “social unity” in a theoretical way,361 the concept takes

on placial dimensions when Room 5 is juxtaposed with Rooms 4 and 6. Both of the latter rooms

were bound areas, sealed in entirety, and associated with a Christian community. They were also

the areas in which “Christian identity” was communicated to a newcomer. Room 5, as liminal

space, was an area associated with an individual whose identity is in progress; this was

communicated by their placement in specific areas. It was here where the individual initiate is

able to explicitly and consciously cross over into the promised “Christian” places delineated by

Christian movement.362

ROOM 6- The Baptistery.

To the west of the courtyard, and to the west of the adjoined Room 5, was the Durene

Baptistery. Its function is both extremely important and extremely uncontroversial; the presence

of a baptismal font at its Western wall leaves no question that the renovated room served as a

Baptistery for the community. The Baptistery was, of course, the most dramatic and important

cultic evidence of the House Church. For this reason, its role in the baptismal ritual will be

addressed in more detail in the following Chapter. At this time, I will only describe the main

structural renovations to the Original Room 6, renovations that succeeded in transforming one of

the lesser rooms of the house into an impactful initiation matrix.

Room 6 was not an especially important room for the house’s original owners, and it

certainly was not chosen as the baptistery to preserve any sort of spatial hierarchy in the house.

360 Bell, Ritual Theory, Ritual Practice, 21. 361 Bell refers to Turner’s changing views on “social dramas” as a guiding structure for ritual and ritual narrative. She does not discuss liminality as something functionally practiced, or something situated in a ritual structure. 362 Symbolic aspects of this crossing-over, such as the re-robing of the catechumens, will be discussed in the next chapter. 120

Directly outside of Original Room 6, in the courtyard, would be the functioning latrine. Without superimposing a modern “squeamishness” with bodily functions that has no counterpart in the ancient world, it is safe to say that latrines were not associated with a house’s primary rooms.

The Original Room would have been a small, dark, poorly ventilated room; it likely served as room for household slaves.363 Unlike the renovations made to Room 5 or to the Assembly Hall, the Room 6 was not enlarged or made more comfortable, spacious, or better lit to accommodate the Christian community. Instead, all spatial renovations rendered it further enclosed and introverted. The ceiling of the building appears to have been lowered above Room 6, resulting in the creation of the “Upper Room.”364 This created a significantly more enclosed effect in Room

6 than in the rest of the building. The room, in its original setting, was already lacking in windows, and there were no extra additions upon renovation. The resulting structure of the room suggests a deliberate desire for darkness and insularity. In this sense, it strongly resembled the

Durene Mithraeum at the garrison camp. Mithraeum, traditionally built directly into caves, tended towards this darkness and introversion. The Durene Mithraeum and the Durene House

Church were both built to facilitate an initiation ritual, and both involve, as per Beck, a cosmological reorienting of an initiate’s identity.

Though the fresco wall decorations are the most eye-catching and dramatic part of the

Baptistery, other spatial alterations are not insignificant; the Original Room was fully renovated rather than simply decorated with sacred art. A plastered basin and canopy were installed directly by the west wall, necessitating direct carving from the bedrock of the site. I have noted before that the Durene baptismal font, despite lacking an aperture for water release, closely resembles

363 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 25. 364 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 25.

121

the construction of the nearby M8 Roman baths.365 Such a renovation suggests that there was no

material contradiction between Roman technology and a Christian place.366 The lack of water

aperture, or any sort of drainage pipe, can be attributed to the type of baptismal ritual performed;

if the community performed affusion-style baptism rather than the full immersion hinted at in the

earliest texts, there would be no pressing need for a water aperture. The dimensions of the

baptismal basin support the idea that one would have stood, rather than knelt, to submerge

themselves in water.367 Moreover, the art would be better seen from a standing vantage point,

and it certainly makes sense that the baptistery decorations were intended to be seen at junctures

in the ritual. Of course, these renovations also suggest that the baptistery was not in constant use,

allowing time for water used in the ceremony to evaporate away. Baptism was likely performed

relatively sporadically.368

Another important renovation is seen on the door through which the catechumens would

enter the Baptistery. The attention paid to this door strongly suggests that it was the main access

point into the baptistery for incoming catechumens. It was made markedly large and ceremonial,

with elabourate moldings. It visually signified that a ceremony will begin through its passage.369

There is, once again, a dipinti that effectively seal the Baptistery from the exorcised demons that

could be encountered in Room 5. Further alterations to Room 6 included a levelling of the floor,

theoretically to accommodate additional foot traffic. In addition to this, a plastered bench was

excavated from the interior of the baptistery along its entire Eastern wall (This feature is only

365 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 25. 366 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 25. 367 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 26-27. 368 Baptism, in other parts of the Roman Empire, was often performed en masse shortly before Easter. There is no certain evidence that Syrian-area Christians confined their baptisms to the Easter season, however. For additional information, please see Bradshaw, Early Christian Worship, 39-40. 369 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 26-27. 122 known through Kraeling’s report; the Eastern wall was either misplaced or destroyed, but for a small lower portion, and did not survival into the archives. The remaining portion of the wall is not currently available for viewing). This bench was almost certainly created after the renovation process, as it was created through amassing the rubble that resulted from the leveling of Original

Room 6’s floor.370

Additional important changes made to Original Room 6 include, as in the courtyard and

Room 4, the addition of meaningful dipinti around the space itself. The Baptistery existed as a sort of purified threshold through this same interplay of graffiti. There were two entrances into

Original Room 6. The first, and undoubtedly the main entrance, was through a major door, connecting Room 5 and the Baptistery. As previously stated, this door was the more ceremonial of the two, decorated with a molded lintel and “battered jambs ending in molded capitals.”371

The dipinti, placed on the west doorpost facing Room 5, is in abecadaria form.372 Kraeling’s report notes that Hopkin’s original translation from photographs was imprecise; the dipinti appears to show an A and a B, as well as some form of star shape, though the significance of this is not stated.373 The secondary door was relatively unmarked, small and un-molded.374 It appears to be part of the Original House. Even in its pre-renovated form, it was narrow, unremarkable and clearly not a major entrance point from the courtyard.375 Visually, it clearly served a secondary function in the baptistery. Its proximity to an Eastern Vestibule facilitated movement between the Vestibule, courtyard and Baptistery. This door was also marked by graffiti, though

370 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 23-24. 371 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 22. 372 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 94. 373 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 95. 374 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 23. 375 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 23.

123

the graffiti present is inside the Baptistery itself, and does not face outward to the courtyard.376 It

also has an explicitly “Christian” dedication, reading “there is one God in heaven.”377 The

interior setting of this inscription further “Christianizes” the interior, marking out interior

“Christian” space from exterior “not-quite-Christian” space- the graffiti in the courtyard, usually

around doors, does not explicitly refer to Christian themes.378

The wall decorations will be addressed in the next chapter, but there are some other

alterations made to the walls that are worth noting. There was an obvious niche, a half-circular

hollow carved into the Upper “Register” of the South wall, equidistance between the two doors.

The catechumen was clearly intended to stop by this niche- a stone rubble residue excavated

beside it supports the idea that a sort of “table” was placed here in preparation for some event.379

A “baptismal processional” would likely begin with a catechumen’s short walk to the niche,

whereupon she would pause and be anointed by a deacon or deaconess (Didascalia XVI

[Connolly]). The niche itself, combined with the expected pre-baptismal anointing, strongly

conveys traversing of the space along the South Wall. The dimensions of the niche, and the table

present on which to rest “ritual props,” suggest that a reasonably large quantity of oil was used to

anoint the catechumens. Kraeling identifies the excavated jar, inscribed with the explicitly

Christian dedication of “Isseos the neophyte,” as an oil jar.380 It is worth noting that the

376 There are notably no examples of dipinti separating the courtyard entrances from the Baptistery, despite the presence of a door that connects the two areas. However, this lack of attention seems indicative of the secondary's door lesser function and importance; simply put, it likely was traversed only by ritual assists- slaves, servants, etc- who were not ritually considered as people needing mobile, symbolic policing. This reading is very much in line of other excavated Room houses, where the movements and dwellings of staff and slaves were not visually marked out and policed. 377 The inscription reads, in Greek: εἰς θεός ἐν ουρανώ, “there is one God in heaven.” Translation my own, taken from the Kraeling’s transcription; I did not have access to the door jamb containing this inscription at the Yale University Gallery, and Kraeling’s notes indicates the door jamb may not have been brought to Yale in the 1960s. 378 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 23. 379 Peppard, World’s Oldest Church, 42 380 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 114.

124

excavation of the Eastern Vestibule near the Baptistery produced fragments of oil jars, and little

else.381 As the House church lacked other sorts of storage facilities for cooking and general

domestic life, it seems likely that oil jars uncovered in the Vestibule were part of the Baptism

ritual. The role of this secondary door, therefore, was likely to provide discreet access into and

out of the Baptistery, should assists to the Baptismal processional be required.

All surveyed scholarship on the Durene House Church concurs as to the role of renovated

Room 6; the presence of the plastered basin and canopied font make the space, indisputably, a

Baptistery. There is no doubt that this renovated room functioned as a Baptistery and was the site

of the main part of a catechumen’s initiation. As the site of the climatic part of the initiation, the

ritual that occurs within the Baptistery warrants its own affective investigation. Suffice it to say

at this time that the catechumens would have circumambulated around Room 6 and been

baptized as the culminating moment of their catechesis. Upon exiting the font, they would have

been fully initiated as neophytes. The neophytes would then re-enter Room 5, in order to don the

white robes associated with neophytes and once again “prepare” for a new ritual- the taking of

Eucharist which concludes their initiation and coincides with their full reconciliation with the

Christian community.

ROOM 4- The Assembly Hall and Communal Recognition:

The texts are not explicit as to where this Eucharist and these prayers should occur.382

Kraeling argues that the communal reconciliation occurred in the courtyard. This changes the

381 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 11. 382 It also does not necessarily follow that the Durene Christians followed these stages to the letter. There is no evidence for a post-baptismal final seal of oil in the Durene House Church model, which will be addressed in the next chapter. For the most part, Syrian Christians appear to have dispensed with the final rushma of oil that is referred to in the Apostolic Tradition. For additional information, see Bradshaw, Early Christian Worship, 8-9.

125

trajectory of movement throughout the space in a way I find unconvincing. He argues that it is

easy to imagine “the newly baptized” moving from the small door of the baptistery into the

courtyard;383 the processional, candle-holding, wreathed elements of this are certainly

appropriate given the Roman context and identity of Durene Christians.384 However, the

trajectory of the body moving through the baptism ritual would not follow this pattern. The

movement through the Baptistery was directed towards the South Wall of the space, and the

initiate would circumambulate the interior and before finally being baptized at its Western wall.

To reverse this movement would be to feature full-body anointing after the affusion baptism,

which contradicts all textual evidence (and any corresponding material evidence or baptismal

imagery from other Syrian-area sources).385 In order to maintain this sequence, and then join the

Christian community in the courtyard, the newly baptized Christian would have to return to the

South wall to exit the easternmost door; they would essentially “repeat” their baptismal

procession, rather than move forward into a different area to bring the procession “full-circle.” It

is also paradoxical that their “immersion” into the world of the secure, beneficial, and exclusive

Christian community would occur in the aforementioned “open” and external space of the

courtyard. It more logically tracks that the initiate's Christian identity would be associated,

through ritual movement, with the interior, bound places that were barred during their catechesis.

It is more consistent that they would have reconciled this identity by partaking in Eucharist in

another purified, protected place- the Assembly Hall. I propose that they must have re-robed

again in Room 5, before entering the fully sealed, by graffiti, Assembly Hall. Moving the

catechumens in the interiority of the space more effectively communicates that the House

383 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 153. 384 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 153. 385 Robin M. Jensen, Baptismal Imagery in Early Christianity: Ritual, Visual, and Theological Dimensions (Michigan: Baker Books, 2012), 99. 126

Church’s interior was a sealed entity in its entirety. It further communicates that initiation was

complete by fully traversing these interior chambers. I see no major evidence that convinces me

that the movement of the ritual would effectively breach the protective “seal” of the initiation

space- a space which extends beyond the clearly sealed, and clearly cultic Baptistery.

Instead, renovated Room 4, ostensibly intended for use as an Assembly Hall seems

immediately the best “fit” for the end of the baptismal initiation. It was a space designated for

the community and designed with gathering in mind. Other scholars have noted that the

“Assembly Hall" of Dura could not encompass the entire Christian community, and certainly

could not be the site of feasts. It stands to reason, then, that its role was to function as a

communal place for the initiated neophyte, in order to introduce and reconcile the neophyte with

their larger community. A ritualized initiation must include communal acknowledgement and a

sense of full welcoming into said community. The renovated Southern suite, Room 4, or the

Assembly Hall, best functioned as an arena for reconciliation and recognition. The remainder of

the renovations involved the “Southern Suite” of the Original House, an area that had previously

consisted of, in Kraeling’s Report, Room 4a and 4b. The communal/religious functioning of the

“Assembly Hall,” is further conveyed by the excavation of a raised bema or dais from the eastern

side by the entrance to Room 3.386 This bema formed a sort of platform for a speaker or leader of

sermons. The walls of the Original House’s andron, bearing traces of such graffiti and art, were

plastered over during the conversion process; this new plaster was not further decorated or

386 Room 3 is a small, dark room; its poor lighting and ventilation suggests it functioning as a storage area and ancillary chamber for Room 4a of the Original House. It is unknown how this room would specifically function during the Church era; no discernible moveable items were uncovered during excavations. This is in contrast to the Vestibule near the Baptistery, which yielded large oil jars that clearly appear to be ritual aids. I can only hypothesize that Christians, sermonizing in the Assembly Hall, could go through this room to attend to/instruct catechumens waiting in the courtyard. For additional information, please see Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 17-18.

127 embellished throughout the remainder of the house’s life as a “church.”387 Furthermore, there were excavated benches in the Assembly Hall, speaking to its capacity to hold a number of people. Interestingly, there was no main dining table excavated from the Assembly Hall.388 This suggests that sermonizing occurring in the Assembly Hall, rather than feasting. The floor of the

Assembly Hall was comparatively unmarked for an area of heavy foot traffic; this suggests that the floor would have been covered with reed maps when the building was in use.389

The changes made to the Southern suite of rooms drastically changes the possible uses of the house. Room 4b’s size and breadth were obviously of some importance for storing the moveable objects of the Original House’s owners. Removing the partitioning wall between

Rooms 4a and 4b rendered both these rooms rather ineffective storage areas. The enlarged size of the Assembly Hall also changed the more privatized functioning of the diwan, as it would function in a Durene context. A typical Durene “living room” area would service a family, or a small group of patron and clients, rather than larger groups of people.390

Another large elabourate door to the courtyard suggests that it was primarily major access point into the Original House. It was unusually well-lit for a Durene building, with two windows preserved from Original Room 4b in the Western wall, and additional windows in the North wall providing visual access to the courtyard.391 Though there is an emphasis on the visual and auditory access between the courtyard and the Assembly Hall, this porousness was more thoroughly policed after the House Church was in use. There is more dipinti occurring around

387 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 93-94. 388 Baird, The Inner Lives of Ancient Houses, Appendix H. 389 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 18. 390 Baird, The Inner Lives of Ancient Houses, 120. 391 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 14.

128 access points between Room 4 and the courtyard compared to any other room in the House

Church.392 The dipinti along the window jams, further suggests that the windows were often left open; as the open windows would not have sealed the Assembly Hall from outsider harm or forces, the dipinti was drawn as an insurance measure.393

The Hall was designed to be populated, and for the population within it to be heard.

There were parallel benches in the Assembly Hall’s North Wall, and along the North Wall of the courtyard, which suggests that those waiting in the courtyard would be able to listen to the

Assembly inside the Hall. However, given the extensive placement of the dipinti, it is visually evident that courtyard and Assembly Hall had different spatial statuses. The Assembly Hall was delineated as “insider” space, especially when compared with the external courtyard. This is continuously suggested by the graffiti and dipinti that demarcates the entrances and exits between the Assembly Hall and the courtyard, whether around doors or windows. Kraeling argues that this type of dipinti is again prophylactic, meaning it was added to protect the interior of the building (the Assembly hall) from external evils.394

As previously addressed, the House Church has been problematically characterized as a generalized place of Christian meeting. Kraeling’s analysis relies, somewhat, on considering the

Durene House Church the de facto area for Christian meeting in Dura Europos. I concur with

Ramsay McMullen that Eastern Roman Christian communities were already, by the third century, too large to be bound to the extant small places. The House Church, and all of its corresponding components, were created to facilitate particular, initiation-based ritualism. The entire space functioned as an initiation centre, arguably more similar to the initiation-based

392 The Baptistery, windowless save for the tiny access window to the upper level, is architecturally “sealed” from the rest of the House and from the exterior. 393 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 93. 394 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 18. 129

Durene Mithraeum than its neighbour, the Jewish Synagogue. The role of the Assembly Hall, therefore, was a meeting place in which to take Eucharist. Though Christian sermons undoubtedly occurred here, in the context of baptism, the Assembly Hall was the final stage of full initiation- the taking of Eucharist. The Didache (9:1-6), the Didascalia (XXVI [Connolly]), the Apostolic Tradition, and the Acts of Thomas (27) each refer to the taking of Eucharist as the final “step” of Christian initiation. The Apostolic Tradition concludes the baptismal affusion or immersion by stating that:

(the bishop), giving him the kiss, and saying, ‘The Lord be with you.’ And the one who has been sealed says to him, And with your spirit (Hippolytus, Apostolic Tradition 21:21)

At this juncture, the tradition states those who have been baptized will pray, and then:

(The Bishop) shall give thanks over the bread because it is the likeness of the flesh of Christ, with a cup of wine because it is the blood of Christ (Hippolytus, Apostolic Tradition 21:28).

This passage clearly indicates that the Eucharist will be taken after baptismal immersion.

The text also stipulates that these prayers will conclude with an advocation to (this prayer given communally): “do all that is good and to please God and to live uprightly, occupied with the church” (Hippolytus, Apostolic Tradition 21:39).

As neophytes, carriers of a new, recently acquired layer of identity, the Christian initiate would have re-entered the liminal space of Room 5. Formerly functioning at the juncture of where identity was about to transform, it is then revisited in a new context to begin to stabilize the new identity. It is here where they would have likely been re-robed; the Christian texts comment on dressing the baptized in white robes, symbolizing their new status. Robin Jensen writes that both Cyril of Jerusalem and Theodore of Mopsuestia concur that the newly baptized

130 is to be dressed in white robes,395 similar to those referred to in the Didascalia’s instructions for deacons and deaconesses (Didascalia, Chapter XII [Connolly]).The catechumens exiting the

Baptistery would be re-robed in white in Room 5. From this room, they would have entered the

Assembly Hall with visual markers of their baptism- the recently acquired seal, and their maintaining the status of a neophyte. They would have then broken their fast with the Eucharist.

Though they were dressed differently from the other Christians, their initiation ritual literally brings them in contact (through Eucharist, through the kiss of peace, etc) with the Christian community.

Any performer will note that steps to “end of a performance”- leaving the stage, returning to bow, joining hands with colleagues- is as ritualized and meaningful as the theatrical performance itself. The baptismal rituals, already a communal “performance,” shares a similar joining of people at its ceremonial conclusion. There are other common factors between the end of a performance and the “end” of an initiation ritual. The “performance” ends, but the players remain together; celebrations ensue with the breaking of fasting. Moreover, performance roles are altered; the catechumen is no longer an initiate, but rather a neophyte, which confers some degree of equal standing with the community joined. Grimes describes a ritual narrative as sharing these effects.396 Grimes notes that actors in a ritual narrative are subject to their own, spontaneous performance of events; this spontaneity is a key facet of ritual dynamism. By the end of a “performance,” however, each actor encounters one another as equal participants, more closely bonded by the ritual performance that they each experienced.397 This bond, a feature of imagistic rituals, is a major aim for the initiation ritual itself. The Assembly Hall is not merely a

395Jensen, Baptismal Imagery in Early Christianity, 210-212. 396 Grimes, The Craft of Ritual Studies, 244. 397 Grimes, The Craft of Ritual Studies, 236. 131

sermon area that has no role in “baptism”; instead, it too plays a role in initiating the newcomer

into the society and is therefore part of the overall baptismal place.

The two Rooms- 6 and 4- are at two poles of the house, spatially entrenching the entirety

of the initiate’s journey. The former is darkened, and claustrophobic; the Assembly Hall,

especially encountered after dawn had broken, would be bright and sunny, emphasizing the

completeness of the community. The Assembly Hall begins to solidify the communal aspects of

initiation- the ekklesia given spatial meaning. The newly initiated are able to access a new place-

one that had not previously been accessed. It adds additional power to the initiate’s experience of

the entire community, defined here as “ekklesia.” Ekklesia need not refer to a church or physical

edifice, but it does refer to a collective of socially bound people.398 The Assembly Hall gives

shape to the idea of a “special community” that the initiate was introduced to, visually, during

their catechesis. Entrance into this formerly-guarded space powerfully physicalizes the full

initiation into such an ekklesia.

Concluding Remarks:

To briefly summarize the findings from the excavations made to a renovated house in

block M8 of Dura, it seems apparent that the entire house was renovated into a ritualistic centre.

The cumulative effect of renovations made to the original house are in service of ritual

movement; specifically, the ritual stages involved in some form of 3rd century Christian baptism.

In short, the Original House was transformed, intentionally, to be a space where new members

were initiated into the community. The Baptistery makes it self-evident that baptism was the

398 The term ekklesia literally referring to those “called” and gathered together; during this time period, the term referred explicit to a people chosen by God. There is a built-in sense of collectivity, but also of a group being “marked out” from wider society. 132 ritual through which this initiation occurred. However, the renovations made to each area in the

Original House suggest that initiation involved the entire building. My interpretation of the renovation reports suggests that the following adjustments were made to the Original House.

The courtyard was enlarged, made grander, and made visibly more ceremonial. It was transformed, through the use of benches, into an ideal place for early initiates- catechumens - to visit the Christian Building and become acquainted with Christian spaces and Christian teachings. It became an ideal place for the catechesis stage of Christian initiation.

Room 5, though not extensively renovated in its own right, was assigned a role as

"preparatory space” for initiates who progressed to the point of their baptism. Here, the catechumen could be exorcised, disrobed in accordance with ritual precedence, and ushered into the sacred, sealed space of the Christian Baptistery. In this room, former Room 6 of the Original space, a dark, inconspicuous room was transformed, through extensive decorations, and the installation of a baptismal font, into the matrix of initiation; here the Christian teachings taught during catechesis became instilled as a Christian identity through ritual movement. Having been sprinkled with water in the baptismal font, the new Christian neophyte would re-enter the liminal space of Room 5. There, they would re-robe, representing their acquisition of a new identity through ritual. The initiate would then enter Room 4, the Assembly Hall that had been renovated through the joining of two main rooms in the Original House. This room was made to become an ideal “congregation space” to hear sermons, but more particularly, in which to take Eucharist with representatives of the Christian community. In doing so, the initiate had acquired, through experience of the house as a Christian initiation place, a new Christian identity on the individual and social level.

133

Michael Peppard, in his most extensive book about Dura Europos, acknowledges immediately that Christian in Dura became Christians at the Durene house church.399 The emphasis on sealing, purification, and protection all speak to the main baptismal themes that are encountered in ritual texts and ritual imagery surrounding baptism. Initiation has only just begun to be treated as a focal point in the study of early Christianity. Robin Jensen’s research on early

Christian baptisteries shows that these early communities overwhelmingly define Baptism (at least in their art and material culture) as the leaving of one society or community, and entering a new one.400 I will explore this idea more fully in the following chapter, where the intersection between place, ritual movement, and Christian identity is more readily apparent. Having placed the baptism stages within this particular building, examining how prescribed ritual guided the creation of an initiation space, I will examine, in detail, the Baptistery as a concentrated, cumulative place. This sensually rich “initiation matrix" works to ritualize the body, associate with key images and tropes, and guide it to the community in order to create a uniquely Durene

Christian identity.

399 Peppard, The World’s Oldest Church, 22. 400 Jensen, Baptismal Imagery in Early Christianity, 138-149. 134

CHAPTER 5: The Baptistery and Ritualized Identity

Preamble: The previous chapter established that the Durene House Church is spatially constructed to move one body from an outside community into a new, more exclusive identity. The renovation, and resultant structure of the entire space was in pursuit of this singular, ritualized goal. I have previously mentioned that the various previous examinations of the Durene Baptistery tends to adopt an art historian’s view of the space. The primacy of the art, however, does a disservice to ritual examinations of the same space. In short, the artistic interpretation relies on connections to the themes and doctrines associated with biblical interpretation and theological writings (and later examples of baptismal art) that are not necessarily indicative to how Durenes ritualized the space. The art is only found inside the Baptistery; the whole baptism ceremony involves the entire house, with active baptismal steps in three places; Room 5, where the catechumen disrobes and enters the baptistery, the Baptistery, and then in the Assembly Hall, where Eucharist is taken to “conclude” the baptismal initiation. The catechumen’s movement throughout space is not solely an experience of Christian art. What the art does, and quite effectively at that, is propel, further, and deepen the ritualized initiation. It provides a map of the cues and markers that give shape, step by step, of the cumulative entity of “Christian identity” in this context. However, the fullest impact of the art can only be perceived when it is addressed the way it would have been perceived as part of a ritual process- that is to say, haptically, sequentially, kinetically, and sensually.

Michael Peppard’s The Christian Place is the most recent, comprehensive exploration of the Durene Baptistery art. It takes the perspective of what “Isseos the Neophyte” saw, Isseos

135

being the name of an initiated member of the Christian community.401 The book only tracks

Isseos’ visual perspective as he traverses the Baptistery. There is little mention of Isseos’

sensations during the anointing process, who he might have seen, where and when he may have

paused throughout the processional and the actions of the ritual agents. The isolated focus on

what he would have seen transforms the space into an art gallery, rather than a ritual initiation

space. This limits the reach and scope of Christian ritual, and it also fails to consider the physical

movement that is necessarily part of this initiation ritual. In order to analyze the art in terms of

Christian identity, and in terms of Durene identity, the art needs to be analyzed in terms of its

active role in initiation; this active role is generated by its interaction with a human body. If the

entire space was renovated with initiation in mind, as I argue it was, then the art was added as an

intentional part of the active, initiation process. It was intended to interact with a body during the

process of initiation.

Durene initiation is strongly dependent on the physical movement from one area to

another, mirroring the movement into a new identity. The Baptistery, inarguably the most

important space in the building from the perspective of ritual, is also structured and decorated to

intensify such movement. Its art, when addressed as part of this mobile experience, signifies and

bolsters the acquisition of new features of identity. It is read through the initiate’s own

experience of place, society, and Christian community. The materiality of the place, of which the

art is only one component, must be explored comprehensively in order for an affect- one

meaningful in the development of Christian identity- to emerge.402 The particularities of this total

materiality are therefore fundamental components of the new identity that is acquired through

401 Peppard, The World’s Oldest Church, 16. As mentioned in the first chapter of this project, Isseos’ name was recovered from the excavation of a Durene domicile, which yielded an oil jar inscribed with his name and title. The jar is theorized to be a baptismal memento. 402 Grimes, Deeply into the Bone, 50. 136 baptism. Bell’s ritual theory identifies ritual as a community’s mode of identity creation. The ritual body, when performing a prescribed ritual, participates in a dialectic with the members of a community who also take part in the ritual. Through this dialectic, both insiders and outsiders negotiate the confines, identifiable features and roles of the emergent community; the ritual actor has the values and expectations of the community inscribed onto their own, personal identity, and the “insider” ritual re-negotiates and re-affirms their understanding of communal identity. To extend the Christian metaphor for Christian community- terming the community “church,” or ekklesia- Bell’s ritual theory demonstrates how Durene baptism ritual was an act of building. In building a place for Christian baptism, the rite of baptismal initiation further works to “build” the church as a community of identifiable Christians.

The materiality of the Durene Baptistery encompasses more than the fresco art. When I discuss the materiality of the space, I will refer to the art, the physical layout of the Baptistery’s matrix, the affect of the spatial confines and the placement of the ritual participants. The materiality of the space suggests that the Baptistery, far from being an “empty” vessel for ritual or a gallery for the art, was a communal, performative place that situated an initiate within the habituated life of a new community. In order to more thoroughly explore the relationship between body, ritual movements, and the Christian building, as previously discussed, I will supplement Bell’s theories of ritualization with the methods of Grimes, who treats the ritual experience as a more holistic “theatre.” Grimes’ theory allows one to link the disparate, mobile parts of the baptismal ritual- the “stations” within the Baptistery, the ritual participants and witnesses, and the materiality- into a comprehensive theatrical performance. What it is to be a

Christian is “acted” out prior to the initiates’ incorporation and acceptance into the community.

This “acting out” of Christian habits and Christian life relies on the division of space within the

137 ritual arena. To quote the work of David Seamon and Christina Nordin, a “place and body ballet” is created as new information that becomes “habituated.”403 An initiate, in moving like a

Christian, and experiencing a Christian place, acquires Christian identity as a facet of mobile habit.

Walk-Through of the Baptistery:

Initial Steps:

Throughout this chapter, I will follow Peppard’s precedent and follow one named catechumen during their ritual. For distinction, my surrogate will be “Hera,”404 the catechumen who chiseled her name into the Eastern portion of the Northern Wall of the Baptistery. As Hera walks through the Baptistery, she experiences the art, the architecture, and the minutiae of the place through ritual action. As I follow her trajectory through the space, I will consider what she does and experience.

Hera’s baptismal ceremony would have begun with a vigil. During this, following the writings of Hippolytus, Hera would fast throughout the night, and she would be separated from men and children. In Hippolytus’ writings, “cockcrow” signifies that the baptismal prayers, and subsequent ritual components could begin. Before daybreak, however, Hera would be exorcized a final time.405 This exorcism likely occurred in Room 5, carefully marked out with prophylactic graffiti around its access points, and would have served an appropriate place for this final exorcism.

403Seamon and Nordin, “Marketplace as Place-Ballet,” as quoted by Cresswell, Place: An Introduction, 63. 404 In order to maintain an active, performative voice, I will primarily address Hera in the present tense as I simulate her baptismal processional. In.a way, she is indicative of my primary source- a primary textual source would also be addressed in the first person. 405 Hippolytus, Apostolic Tradition 21:3 trans, P. Bradshaw and M. Johnson, 112. 138

As stated in the previous Chapter, there is little distinctive about Room 5 except for the large, carved, ceremonial door that allows for access into Baptistery. Immediately, the attention and corresponding movements of Room 5’s inhabitants are directed towards this door, and towards the Baptistery itself. This vigil, culminating in disrobing, is the first major experience, from Hera’s perspective, of an identity change. An all-night vigil profoundly alters the sense of time associated with daily habits; similarly, the “everyday” structure of Hera’s life would be profoundly disrupted. This disruptive element briefly disassociates the catechumen from their previous identity. Hera’s previous identity would be partially destabilized in preparation for the initiation. Identity at this juncture is at its most liminal, and the ritual stages appear to consistently “place” a liminal body in Room 5. As Hera disrobes here, the place is directly associated with the “shedding” of a previous “skin” in preparation for a new layer of identity.

Room 5 also serves to mark the Baptistery as a distinctive place- one of the most powerfully affective elements of the Baptistery is simply how different it is from Room 6.

Progressing between these two spaces conveys an affective difference- a transformation of place that coincides with the transformation of a habit, or of identity itself.406 To extend Grimes’ use of the “performance” to examine identity in ritual, a useful analogy might be the backstage waiting area of a live theatre; the actor is not “in character” here, but neither can they revert to their non- character identity. Furthermore, at the “end” of the ritual, after baptism, Hera would need a place to re-robe and begin the solidification of this new layer of identity. She has not yet been introduced and reconciled with the community she seeks. Room 5 would therefore be revisited.

The newly-baptized Hera then leaves the room to don the white robes associated with Christian

406 Cresswell, Place: An Introduction, 27.

139

neophytes.407 Newly garbed in white, she leaves Room 5 once again, this time to take her

Eucharist and join members of the Christian community, congregated in the Assembly Hall.

Room 5’s role in “placing” liminal identity provides a ritualized place and coherency at the

points where the catechumen’s identity is destabilized through ritual action.408

Clothes are well-utilized as a liturgical metaphor in the later Syriac tradition. Sebastian

Brock describes a “clothing theology” that characterizes Syriac Baptismal imagery and

literature.409 “The Robe of Glory,” is perhaps the most frequently-occurring metaphor in

Ephrem’s Hymns, and is directly used to refer to the casting off of a previous life before robing

oneself in the glory or light of Christ.410 This “robe” serves as a mark of a new, Christian

identity; it is treated in Ephrem’s Epiphany Hymns both as a mark of Christ’s own baptism, and a

mark of the sealing for the newly baptized.411 If ritual action is considered a locus for creating of

identity tropes (rather than as a mere reflection of them), it is possible that the Durene “robing”

ritual- initiating Christians by removing one robe, and putting on a new one- appropriately

instills this idea as a feature of Christian identity. Such a powerful stage of ritualization is, in

turn, associated with a particular place in the initiation space. Room 5, even in its blankness,

becomes associated with the robes and the transforming identities that they convey to the

Christian initiate. That the new robes were deemed worthy of their own placement in the ritual

building provides some insight into the importance of this metaphor for the Syrian community.

The early “ritualization” of this step is one possible reason for the thorough development of the

clothing imagery in the Syriac school.

407 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 113. 408 A more thorough investigation of Room 5 was conducted in chapter 4; in summary, the room was primarily preparatory space.It is important that it is visited twice, in very different conditions. 409 Brock, The Luminous Eye, 39. 410 Brock, The Luminous Eye, 86. 411 Brock, The Luminous Eye, 95. 140

After disrobing in the “liminal” place of Room 5 to begin the ceremony, Hera is able to enter the Baptistery. This place would be immediately dark, enclosed, and claustrophobic. It has a significantly “smaller” feel than the open courtyard and even the relatively large, white-walled

Room 5. The enclosed, dark affect of the Durene baptistery is indicative of the Durene means of conveying religious space. Original Room 6 would have been one of the naturally darker areas in the house, with very few windows and limited natural light, even compared with Room 5.412 As mentioned previously, Room 6’s ceiling was actually lowered upon renovation, making the room even more darkened and claustrophobic. The Durene Mithraeum is another remarkably dark area- Mithraic mysteries actively describe the initiation ritual as a descent into a dark underworld.413 Mithrae are typically built into a cave, naturally dark areas that limit any natural light from the outside world.414 The Baptistery’s darkness, like the Mithraeum, makes it an immediately distinctive “type” of place, and one associated, in a Roman context, with at least one initiation-based cult.

Natural light would also have been minimal if baptisms, as described in the Apostolic

Tradition, were performed at dawn (Hippolytus, Apostolic Tradition 21:1). If dawn was merely breaking when Hera entered the Baptistery, the area would be dark.415 Interestingly, the art throughout the space appears to reflect the chronology of the ritual. Theoretically, if the timing from the Apostolic Tradition is retained, the sun would rise while the ritual procession occurred in the baptistery (Hippolytus, Apostolic Tradition 21:1). There is notable “sunburst” imagery on the Northern wall of the Baptistery, which would not be seen immediately when an initiate

412 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 19. 413 Beck, The Religion of the Mithras Cult in the Roman Empire, 87. 414 Dura’s Mithraeum is a converted house, rather than a cave, but clear architectural pains have been taken to make the area appear dark. For further information, please see: Beck, The Religion of the Mithras Cult in the Roman Empire, 116. 415 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 20. 141 enters. It would be seen at a later point in the processional, the images of the sunbursts coinciding with the overall lightening of the space and the entrance into the Baptismal font.

Practically speaking, of course, Hera would have needed some light in order to complete her processional. In addition to the practical difficulties involved with a darkened ritualized place, a community would not pay to decorate a large room only for the art to remain unseen.

Hera and the other catechumens may have been given some sort of lamp or torch to carry as they undertook their procession416, but lamps would have been a major hindrance to the catechumens when the performed key parts of the ritual. What is more likely is that lamps would be carried by people who were already inside the Baptistery. Torches are mentioned as part of the baptismal rite in the Acts of Thomas, which described a baptism as occurring at night, in an indoor setting, lit by lamps:

They brought the oil therefore, and lighted many lamps; for it was night … And many lamps were lighted in the bath (Acts of Thomas 26).

If this prescribed timeline was a component in Durene baptism, witnesses may have been carrying some sort of portable lamp in order to watch the baptism and illuminate the room.

As Hera enters the Baptistery from the Western door, the light from the witnesses’ torches would have allowed her a quick glance at the oppositional Eastern wall. This wall is no longer available for viewing, and only a small part of the original Lower Register fresco has been recovered. This fragment shows a series of women’s feet, drawn to the same scale as the series of Processional Women that have been recovered from the Lower Register of the Baptistery’s

Northern Wall.417 Both Kraeling and Peppard conclude that the Lower Register fresco was likely

416 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 153. 417 I will discuss the scholarly identification of these Processional Women in turn when Hera traverses the Northern Wall.

142

a continuation of the Processional Women fresco on the Northern wall.418 Because of its position

opposite to the entrance of the Baptistery, this fresco could conceivably be the first artistic image

the entering initiate would see.419 As mentioned in the previous chapter, the Eastern wall was

also “lined” with a small, plastered bench.420 The size of the Processional Women puts them at

theoretical eye-level with the catechumen and promotes a sense of identification between initiate

and artistic symbol.421 Any seated participants would be below direct eye-level. The overall

effect- seated witnesses with large Processional women directly in the background- would be of

a small gathering of people.422 The community present is a “cross-section” of Durene Christian

society; present in the Baptistery are familiar community members, authoritative leaders of the

community, and new initiates who are being welcomed into the community.

The Acts of the Apostles suggests that early Christian baptismal ceremonies occurred en

masse.423 The Durene Baptistery is too small to accommodate a huge number of catechumens;

the dimensions more easily support a one-by-one series of initiative processionals.424 However,

the communal effects of the en masse baptism could also be communicated by the presence of

witnesses in the space. Hera’s first sight may very well have been a familiar face- that of her

sponsor. The effect of witnessing and participating in a Baptism, and the implications of this

418 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 40. 419 Of course, Hera would also have had some glimpse of the imagery above it on the Upper Register. However, as this was only found in degraded form during excavation, I will refrain from commenting on what this imagery may have been, or what it would have signified. 420 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 23-24. 421 This identification is a major part of Hera’s experience of the Eastern and Northern Wall of the Baptistery, and it will be given more attention in turn. 422 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 23. The Wall and bench dimensions are such that only a couple of participants could be comfortably accommodated on the Eastern Bench. 423 Bradshaw, Early Christian Worship, 10. 424 Kraeling notes that the house church could likely only accommodate a total of 70 people, and the baptismal ritual here occurs in a confined space. Though a procession with multiple initiates is likely in this space, it would undoubtedly not consist of the mass numbers described in Acts. Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 101-102. 143

“reliving of ritual” on early Christian identity is worthy of an entirely new project. However, the

community’s presence immediately communicates that the Baptistery is communal, Christian

space.

David and Goliath and the Anointing Station:

If the directionality of the Processional Women is any indication, Hera would enter from

Room 5 and make an immediate right. She would turn to process along the South Wall. Her

major aim upon entering would be to progress to the place where the first major ritualistic event,

the anointing, would occur. There is an obvious niche, a half-circular hollow carved into the

Upper “Register” of the South wall, equidistance between the two doors. The catechumen was

clearly intended to stop by this niche; a stone rubble residue excavated beside it supports the idea

that a sort of “table” was placed here in preparation for some event.425 Hera’s “baptismal

processional” would likely begin with her short walk to the niche, whereupon she would pause

and be anointed by a deaconess.

The dimensions of the niche, and the table present on which to rest “ritual props,” suggest

that a reasonably large quantity of oil was used to anoint the catechumens. The fact that the near-

by vestibule’s excavation only uncovered such large jars is further evidence that vast quantities

of oil were required in the Baptistery.426 This oil would be required because the entire body of

the catechumen would have been anointed, a practice common throughout Syria and North

425 Peppard, The World’s Oldest Church, 42 426 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 20-23. One may also wish to refer to Kraeling, Excavations at Dura- Europos, 114. He identifies an excavated jar, inscribed with the explicitly Christian dedication of “Isseos the neophyte,” as an oil jar. If the standard scholarly assumption is correct, and this large oil jar was a direct memento of Isseos’ baptism, this is further evidence that large jars, holding a good deal of oil, were put into use during the ritual itself.

144

Africa in the 2nd and 3rd centuries.427 If Dura is in line with any later Syriac ritual practice, it is

in this emphasis on full-body anointing.

The presence of this bench has led me to consider that the baptism ritual likely included

more people than apparent in textual sources. The presence of a Bishop, who performs the

affusion of water, is prescribed by ritual texts, as is the presence of a deacon or deaconess to

perform an anointing process. The Syriac Didascalia states that

Thou also, in like manner, by laying on [thy] hand, anoint the head of in those who receive baptism, whether of men or of women, and afterwards, whether thou thyself baptize, or command the Deacon or the Elder to baptize, let it be a Deaconess, as we said before, who anoints the women (Didascalia XVI [Connolly]).

Practically, therefore, a minimum of three people are required for the Baptism- Baptizer,

Baptized, and Deacon/ness. The bench, however, suggests that other members of the Christian

community were also present at the Baptism as witnesses for the baptismal “candidate.” It seems

reasonable that one witness may be the sponsor of the catechumen, another position outlined in

the Didascalia (XVI [Connolly]). There was also likely space on the bench for two additional

people.428 However they functioned, it is clear that multiple ritual agents were involved in this

stage of the initiation.

Hera’s primary experience at this station is therefore the overwhelmingly physical

process of anointing. Whatever comfort with nudity was experienced by the ancient Durenes,

anointing would have been a sensually stimulating, even “distracting” process. Anointing would

involve the stark feeling of oil on bare skin- a new “layer” on the skin in lieu of clothing.

427 Bradshaw, Early Christian Worship, 11. 428 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos,22. The measurements of the bench support the comfortable placement of about three, average-sized people. 145

Moreover, there is a prominent member of the community present at this particular juncture. The

Didascalia devotes considerable time to the anointing process of Baptism:

The office of a woman Deaconess is required, first, when women go down to the water, it is necessary that they be anointed by a Deaconess…it is not fitting for the women that they be seen by the men, but that by the laying on of the hand the head alone be anointed… (Didascalia, Chapter XVI [Connolly])

The type of anointing favoured in this area, and at this Baptistery are dependent on a ritual agent- should a female deaconess be unavailable during a woman’s baptism, it is suggested that the head alone be marked with oil (rather than the “step” being skipped entirely). This speaks to importance of the oil and the agent. Studies on ritual agents determine that, while

“representations of unobservable superhuman agents are often explicitly described as the 'real' ritual agents,” an explicit human agent “balances” the ritual system. Ristro Uro argues that the presence of a ritual agent restores personal agency to the system; this promotes self-identification with the ritual, even if it is one that is highly stimulating, singularly-occurring, and imagistic in mode.429 At the same time, the ritualized party, associating the human agent with a supernatural power, feels “awe” and divinity on an imminent level.430 This “balances” the ritual system, empowering the ritual initiate and making the more esoteric cluster of meanings around the ritual action more comprehensible and affective.431 Hera, seeing a deaconess performing the anointing, would have an immediate, cognitive awareness of a “human” ritual agent. A large part of what anointing “means” to Hera is guided by having another person anoint her. She simultaneously associates the oil with a superior of the community, and then again with herself. The

429 Uro, Rituals and Christian Beginnings, 234. For a thorough explanation of what is meant by the “imagistic mode of ritualism,” please see: Harvey Whitehouse, “Modes of Religiosity: A Cognitive Theory of Religious Transmission.” Marburg Journal of Religion 11, no. 1 (June 2006), 1- 94. For my purposes, the imagistic ritual mode is characterized by a high degree of sensual stimulation, combined with a low frequency of recurrence. Adult baptism, like the vast majority of initiation rituals, fall within the imagistic mode. 430 Uro, Rituals and Christian Beginnings, 233-234. 431 Uro, Rituals and Christian Beginnings, 235. 146

identification between “anointee” and anointer both empowers the act itself- it gains authority-

whilst empowering Hera as a ritual agent in her own right. Because she identifies with a human

agent, she is far more able to embody, experience, and believe in the supernatural power of the

oil and the rite. This simultaneously restores Hera’s agency in the ritual system, while bolstering

the efficacy of anointing as a ritual in its own right.432 Anointing is not merely “step one” of the

baptismal process; it is an easily remembered, powerful event, one that makes the initiation

memorable and meaningful.

In addition to the ritual agents in the station, there were many activities occurring in this

space that are not directly stipulated in the baptismal texts. The entire process would take some

time, allowing Hera some time to consider the fresco at the station. How closely she could have

seen it has been overemphasized in Durene artistic interpretation.433 The anointing process itself

would likely result in parts of the fresco being blocked from view. Instead, Hera’s attention

would be divided between the ritual minutiae, the agent of the ritual (the deaconess) and the art.

She would be aware of deaconess’ presence while she felt oil on skin; the shared experience of

oil, being administered by the agent and then received by Hera, promotes a communal bond

between the women. This similarity between Hera and the deaconess- as both become connected

by oil- promotes Hera’s own identification as an agent in her own right.434 She would also

simply feel different. Hera would not be wearing clothing, and her skin would suddenly perceive

a new, immediate layer of a viscous substance. These different sensations, coupled with Hera’s

and/or the deaconess’s likely recitation of prayers over the oil, make for sensually rich

432 Uro, Rituals and Christian Beginnings, 235 433 Close artistic analysis of the frescoes particularities- the positioning of the hunched Goliath, the type of sword David wields- can be done easily in a gallery setting. It is far more difficult to engage with this style of art-viewing when performing ritual activities. 434 Uro, Rituals and Christian Beginnings, 233.

147

experience, where attention would undoubtedly be divided among participants.435 Instead of

being a distraction, joint attention has been shown to increase and sharpen social awareness,

whether it be for developing offspring, or for adults in a new environment.436 As the deaconess

anoints Hera, she shares with her both the “oil” and ritual words surrounding the oil- possibly the

“prayers over oil” suggested by Hippolytus in the Apostolic Tradition (Hippolytus, Apostolic

Tradition 21:6-9). She thus shares with Hera her own evaluation of the fresco and the Christian

imagery located in this space. Hera would begin to make social connections between the oil, the

ritual agency conferred by anointing, and the sights/sounds in this place.

The fresco associated with the anointing niche depicts David and Goliath.437 Some

member of the Durene Christian community appears to have anticipated the difficulties in

“reading” this David and Goliath scene, and the correct identification of these figures was

evidently important for the Durene Christians. Consequently, the pivotal figures are identified

with Greek inscriptions with the names David and Goliath, names that (combined with the

imagery) clearly resonated with the community.438 The basic imagery is that of a giant figure,

and a smaller one; together with the inscriptions, the fresco can be sufficiently identified.439 As

the particularities of the art, Hera’s eye-level view would most clearly see David’s outstretched

sword; the sword reaches towards the upper border of the fresco, where a Greek dedication to a

435 Prayers would likely be said (or sung) while the anointing occurred. Hera could have heard multiple people singing the prayers over oil as she was anointed, though there is no conclusive evidence as to which hymns were sung, or by how many people. For further consideration, please see Sebastian Brock, The Luminous Eye: The Spiritual World Vision of Saint Ephrem, (Kalamazoo: Cistercian Publications Inc, 1992), 34-35 and Brock, Fire from Heaven, 65-70. 436 Mundy et al, “A parallel and distributed-processing model of joint attention…,” 5-7. 437 Please see Appendix B for author’s own photo of the David and Goliath fresco. 438 It is difficult to get a sense of how vividly Hera could have seen figures themselves. In its excavated condition, the fresco had decayed considerably, and the original pigmentation of the fresco is difficult to ascertain. 439 Peppard, The World’s Oldest Church, 49.

148

“Proclus” is inscribed.440 It is this sword, and this dedication, that best approaches Hera’s “eye-

level.” These written inscriptions- David, Goliath, and Proclus- guide the interpretation of the

Biblical scene. This visual sequence- the connection of the figure of David with the name of

Proclus and a visible sword-441 applies an immediately militaristic connotation to the anointing

ritual that occurs alongside it. David is depicted with imagery that coincides with the Durene

military culture; the Proclus inscription indicates that Durene initiates identified with this

militarism.442 The dedication suggests that members of the Christian community identified with

the militaristic scene at hand. As Hera was anointed by this scene, she was visually invited to

recall the connection between the Christian Proclus and the triumphant David.443 This is also

likely true of the Christian community; they were intimately familiar with Roman military life,

and therefore chose for these elements to be part of their Baptistery art.444

440 The dedication here is another explicitly Christian one, using the epithet of “humble” to describe Proclus, a dedicatory practice that would become widespread throughout the growing Christian community in the Roman East. Kraeling, The Excavations at Dura-Europos, 95. 441 It should go without saying that the figure of David, represented here as a shepherd in Hellenistic tunic, is not accurately depicted as he occurs in the Hebrew Bible. His weapon here, a sword, emphasizes his military triumph over Goliath in a way that would not immediately be conveyed to the Durenes if the original weapon- the sling shot- had been depicted. 442 Please see Appendix B for author’s photos of the fresco. The figures are not as starkly delineated as the figures in the Upper Register “Miracle” frescoes. Though this could be either an intentional artistic choice or a factor of the fresco’s decay. When scrutinized closely, one can make out sketched figure, marked with the inscription David on his arm, holding what appears to be a sword or sphere that is about to land upon a giant, amorphous figure directly to the figure’s left. Without an identifier, it might be impossible to identify any figure at all to David’s right. 443 Stephanie Weisman notes that the militarism of the Jewish synagogue’s art choices is likely a result of Jewish engagement in the military, causing them to represent military life in their art to a greater degree than suggested in the Biblical story. For further information, please see: Stephanie Weisman, “Militarism in the Wall Paintings of the Dura-Europos Synagogue: A New Perspective on Jewish Life on the Roman Frontier." (Shofar 30, no. 3: 2012), 31. EBSCO. 444 I should note here again that the artist of the Durene frescoes was likely not a Christian themselves (Kraeling, The Excavations at Dura-Europos, 7). Given a cursory description of the “David and Goliath” story, and a description of Goliath as a war hero, it does make sense that said artist would draw a Roman legionnaire- the familiar Durene prototype for a warrior. Goliath’s dress and prostrate posture must not be taken as a de facto example of anti-Roman sentiment among the Durene Christians.

149

. Apart from the militaristic connotations of the fresco, scholars have long considered it an

“unexpected” choice for a baptismal program.445 There is a duality of images in the fresco. On

the one hand, David holds a prominent sword, an image which apparently provoked a moment of

identification for “Proclus.” On the other hand, David is also depicted as a shepherd, Hellenistic

tunic. Shepherds are not typically warriors with swords. The power in this image is in its

polysemic interpretation.446 Proclus was able to identify with the militarism signified by the

sword, but he also needed to contextualize David’s image in a particular part of the Biblical

narrative. The fresco, while retaining the militaristic signifiers meaningful to Durenes, also

situates David as a shepherd, rather than a King.

Previous interpretations have suggested that anointing, in this context, indicated triumph,

purity, or aristocracy. Peppard provides many possible readings of the fresco; interpretations that

emphasize the role of oil in purification rituals are the most contextually appropriate. First and

foremost, it is important to consider what oil itself would mean to Hera. The associations of the

oil are profoundly emphasized when ritual activity is conducted alongside it. These associations

should already be known to the initiate; if oil was utterly foreign to Hera, the feeling of it on her

skin would be effectively meaningless. However, oil was extremely associated with healing in

Syrian life.447 Hera’s natural connection between oil, and healing would be keenly felt; it is an

omnipresent trope in 2nd century Syria, associated with various tropes such as general bodily

purification or full rebirth.448 These associations are particular prevalent in the early stages of

445 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 100. 446 Peppard notes that anointing is a “polysemic” ritual, referring to the multiple meanings embedded in the act. The David and Goliath fresco art is similarly polysemic- the narrative scene has multiple meanings. For further information, please see Peppard, The World’s Oldest Church, 32-33. 447 Bradshaw, Early Christian Worship, 15. 448 Peppard, The World’s Oldest Church, 55.

150

Syrian Christian development.449 The oil, therefore, immediately has an embodied association for Hera when it makes contact with her skin. The texts available, in conjuncture with the image of David, provide a related “cluster” of interpretations.

The Didascalia discusses anointing and oil frequently as part of the baptismal ritual. The

Didascalia notably describes the anointing process as in keeping with the treatment of Israelite priests (Didascalia, Chapter XVI [Connolly]). It further describes the oil as preceding the “seal” of baptism, received from the Lord and marking the full initiation (Didascalia, Chapter X

[Connolly]). This provides early support for a close connection between the concepts of “seal” of baptism, Christian initiation, and the idea of healing/rejuvenation being connected to Christian initiation. Hera’s interpretation of the fresco would be guided by her Syrian tendency to understand oil as something promoting health and purification, her “witnessing” David’s triumph alongside this oil, and her awareness that this oil was connected to a seal that indicated Christian initiation. The anointing process, therefore, is ritually associated here with David, “sealing” and the healthful connotations of oil.

The Apostolic Tradition and the Acts of Thomas alternatively connect oil to health/purification and sealing. The Apostolic Tradition describes the oil in two ways, both as the

“oil of exorcism” and the “oil of thanksgiving” in the Sahidic version of the text (Hippolytus,

Apostolic Tradition 21:8-12). The Bishop, in anointing the initiate before their baptism, uses the

“oil of exorcism,” and performs this as the initiate renounces their sins (Hippolytus, Apostolic

Tradition 21:8-12). The oil, therefore, is connected to the remittance of sins, and a condition of spiritual health. The Acts of Thomas ascribes similar power to the oil; Thomas uses it throughout the work to cast out demons in Christian initiates prior to baptism (Acts of Thomas 26). Here, the

449 Peppard, The World’s Oldest Church, 55. 151

oil is regularly described as the “seal,” and the Syrian veneration of oil for its healing and

apotropaic powers is pronounced. The Acts of Thomas places significant emphasis on the “seal,”

and establishes a sort of liturgical chronology between the oil and the “sealing of the seal”

through Baptism:

For this is the Lord and God of all, even Jesus Christ whom I preach, and he is the father of truth, in whom I have taught you to believe. And he commanded them to bring oil that they might receive the seal by the oil (Acts of Thomas 26).

The Acts of Thomas also casts the oil-seal as a mark of ownership or a brand. Anointing

with oil ‘marked’ the person as belonging to Christ. As noted by Susan E. Myers, in reference to

the Acts of Thomas:

The seal is first and foremost a sign of ownership, similar to the brand on an animal. In chapter 131, the general Siphor and his family request “to receive the seal from you, so that we might become worshipers of the one true God and might be numbered among his lambs and sheep.” Worship must be properly directed in order for the identifying seal to be bestowed. The seal is the means by which God “recognizes his own sheep (chapter 26). 450

The connection of community, experience, and identity is further emphasized when the

connection between the Syrian understanding of anointing and ownership is elaborated.451

In addition, as noted, prior to the entry into the Baptistery and as part of the vigil, Hera

underwent the necessary exorcism of demons. In the Acts of Thomas, an exorcism coincides with

the baptism of the woman in Chapter 44.452 After being harassed by demons for five years, the

450 Myers, Spirit Epicleses in the Acts of Thomas, 111. 451 Sebastian Brock notes that, within the later Syriac Christian tradition, the anointing with oil was very frequently equated to the Jewish practice of circumcision. The Christian neophyte is now ‘marked’ as a member of a specific group, the new Israel or the “new” people of God. The idea of the brand or mark of Christianity through anointing appears to be in development during this period. There are no writings from Dura that connect baptism to circumcision explicitly, and the Jewish and Christian communities in this are do not appear to be in conflict or in conversation. For further information, please see: Brock, The Luminous Eye, 128. 452 Myers, Spirit Epicleses in the Acts of Thomas, 83.

152 rushma of Thomas’ administered baptism is granted to the woman immediately after she exorcised; the implication here is that this baptism/sealing is part of the exorcism that will prevent demonic possession throughout her life as a Christian.453 It was this rushma (Myers translates this term, used in the Acts of Thomas, as “sign,” analogous to the Greek σφπαγίς454) that cast out the demons of the catechumens, allowing them to be marked and protected from evils as they join the Christian community. The oil functions, simultaneously, as a means for purification and also as a “sign” that the purification has occurred.455 There is an undeniable association retained between the ritualized “sealing,” and connotations of “marking,” and

“protection.”

The word “seal,” is used with overwhelming frequency in baptismal texts. The Greek word (ἐσφραγίσθητε) is associated with Christians in a variety of contexts. It is usually stated in the aorist tense, rendered passively; the Christian is sealed by some other agent. The seal alternatively refers to them being “sealed” and marked as Christians, belonging to the Lord (2

Timothy 2:18),456 or alternatively, “sealed” from death or evil (suggested by Ephesians 1:13-

14).457 While sealed into the Christian community, the initiate is marked out as protected- branded with the mark of beneficial, protective status that this community bestows upon members. The term “seal” brings up an important linguistic quirk. The idea of a “mark” is conflated with enclosure and containment; the “seal” of oil protects the new Christian by

“sealing,” them off from evils- evils that are variously described in the liturgy as dangers, death

453 Myers, Spirit Epicleses in the Acts of Thomas, 83. 454 Myers, Spirit Epicleses in the Acts of Thomas, 111. 455 Myers, Spirit Epicleses in the Acts of Thomas, 85. 456 2 Timothy 2:18 reads: “Nevertheless, God’s solid foundation stands firm, sealed with this inscription: “The Lord knows those who are his,” and, “Everyone who confesses the name of the Lord must turn away from wickedness.” 457 Ephesians 1:13 reads “When you believed, you were marked in him with a seal, the promised Holy Spirit.” 153

and diseases. Given the connection between the Syrian tradition of anointing with oil and

healing, marked Christians are both “healed” and “protected” from the impurities they may have

carried with them from the outsider realm, impurities that are also policed by the spatial structure

of Room 5 and the Baptistery.458 “Sealing” with oil is both a brand of Christianity and a barrier

to demonic, non-Christian forces.

This cluster of ideas and bodily sensations informs Hera’s experience of the fresco

imagery. In this fresco, his Hellenistic tunic of David both contextualizes the narrative and

associates him with the image of a shepherd protecting his flock.459 David is the shepherd who

serves, in the typological exegesis of early Christianity, as the precursor to Christ as king,

messiah, and good shepherd. The use of David as a prototype for the “shepherd” strongly

resonates with the pastoralism inherent both in later Syriac hymnology. In particular, given the

context of the David and Goliath scene, this is the shepherd who protected his father’s flock from

lions and bears.460 The Acts of Thomas emphasizes the association between shepherd and

protector:

Unite them to your Fold and anoint them; purify them from their uncleanness and guard them from the wolves, feed them in your pastures, and let them drink from your fountain which is never turbid and whose stream never fails (Acts of Thomas 25).

As noted by Brock, the pastoral imagery of (lost) sheep being encompassed into Christ’s

fold was continued in Ephrem’s and later Syriac imagery.461 David himself is frequently referred

458 For further reference, please see Chapter 4 for a discussion of the use of apotropaic graffiti around key access points throughout the Church. 459 Further implications of the use of the “Good Shepherd” image in the context of Baptism will be discussed at a later point in this Chapter. Here, the narrative suggests that, in having slain Goliath, David is not yet “King” of Judea. He is still a shepherd. 460 1 Sam 17:34-36 461 The image of David-as-Shepherd, placed near the “beginning” of the baptism ritual, coincides with the fresco depicting the “Good Shepherd,” placed over the font at the “end” of the baptism. The repetition of this idea tells us a good deal about what interpretation was prioritized in the experience of the Durene initiates.

154

to as a leader of Christians; in fact, one of Ephrem’s preferred phrases for both Christ and the

devoted Christian is “Son of David.”462 Ephrem more dominantly connects David to the lineage

of Israelite priests and kings, which is unsurprising given the prominence of Judaic themes in the

Syriac school.463 Nevertheless, he occasionally uses the pastoral imagery in conjecture to David

that is seen in Durene Baptistery. The “priesthood” of Christ is described as correct, and related

to David in Ephrem’s Hymn 8 on Virginity; in this hymn further describes those within David’s

priesthood as belonging to a flock (Ephrem, Hymns on Virginity 8:18-19).

By portraying David as a “shepherd,” a cluster of ideas forms between oil-protection-

exorcisms-identity-and-flock. The connection between David and oil is, read, through baptism,

as a shepherd protecting his flock through the sealing powers of exorcism oil. It also forms the

“brand” or “mark” that associated the sealed initiate with such a watchful shepherd. A ritualistic

reading of the anointing station must take into account the cumulative impact of these ideas.

David may, simultaneously, be both a war hero and a gentle shepherd to Hera. What is important

is that she would interpret both these motifs through her understanding of oil and the ritual act of

anointing. Oil, in this context, (and the imagery of David connected to it) indicates protection,

healing, and the defeat of a threat.

While Hera views the David and Goliath fresco, she would read the image according to

what is “meant” by anointing. Anointing would mean that Hera had achieved some acceptance of

the deacon/community, as this action allows her to proceed to the Baptismal font. It conveys, in

3rd century Syria, that she has been purified, or healed to some degree. It also means, in essence,

that she has gained a facet of Christian identity that differentiates her from a catechumen. This

462 This typological formulation occurs too frequently in Ephrem to list comprehensively here. For some examples, please see: Ephrem, Hymns on the Nativity 6:1-3, trans. Kathleen E. McVey, 62 and Ephrem, Hymns on the Nativity 2:15-16, 79. 463 Brock, The Luminous Eye, 20-25. 155

distinction- this mark- is literally present on her skin. The anointing process, therefore, strongly

suggests that Hera’s Christian identity was a new “layer” of protection and healing from external

evils.

The Processional Women and Identity Acquisition:

Along her processional, Hera would encounter both witnesses and meaningful Christian

imagery in the form of the continued artistic registers. The direct ritual prescriptions after

anointing are vague. She would progress along the Eastern and Northern walls of the Baptistery,

making her way towards the Baptismal font at the Western wall of the room. As previously

mentioned, the Eastern wall was greatly damaged prior to excavation; what remains is a “frieze”

of feet, with the same dimensions directionality as the Processional Women seen on the Northern

wall.464 This Register, consisting of tall, white-robed, female figures, continues along the Lower

Above the head of one of these processional women on the Northern wall was where the

graffiti’d word “Hera,” was discovered466 At these walls, though there is little evidence of a

specific ritual stage, the frescoes mirror the processional, ritual movement of the initiate.467 This

464 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 55. Having not viewed it, I can offer little ritualistic interpretation of the decayed Upper Register of the East Wall; Kraeling’s analysis of Hopkin’s excavation report suggests it hinted at a Garden scene. However, the final report on excavations contain no pictures or reconstructive tracings of this fresco. 465 Please see Appendix C for author’s photos of the fresco along the Northern Wall. 466 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 93. 467 Processional art, a genre within which the Processional Women are an example, is found in both the synagogue and in the Mithraeum. Both rituals involve a procession to the main cultic space- the tauroctony of the mithraeum and the baptismal font of the Christian church. Processional activity and performative pageantry is a familiar element of Roman religiosity, and its effects are felt here. As Hera processes in front of these witnesses, she displays herself worthy of this community, and of the “triumphal” benefits of their new society. There is an analogy to be made here with Robert Beck’s writings about Processional activity in Roman mystery cults. See Beck, The Religion of the Mithras Cult in the Roman Empire, 90-95. For a reconstructed view of the tauroctony, please see author’s photo, Appendix F3.

156

“dedicatory” graffiti implies two things about Hera’s ritual experience. The first is that Hera’s

baptismal ceremony likely had no stringently prescribed time; in the words of Grimes, the

processional had a flexible “tempo,” with a spontaneous internal rhythm of ritual movements.468

It would have taken her some time to scratch her name into the plaster, and this action would

have delayed the steady stream of the procession.469 The other examples of dedicatory

inscriptions in the Baptistery (namely that of Proclus) suggest that such markings were

encouraged additions to the ceremony. The second piece of information gleaned from Hera’s

inscription is that she apparently identified with the Processional Women. Indeed, everything

about their rendering suggests that this identifiable resonance, between catechumen and art, was

the primary function of this long, detailed fresco.

The Processional Women are the largest, most detailed frescoes from the Durene

Baptistery. They are drawn in a life-like style, unlike the Biblical depictions of the Upper

woman of below-average height.470 The fresco would first be seen from the east wall, where only

five pairs of feet remain extant. The hem immediately above the remaining feet appears to

belong to a white chiton, matching the garb of the remaining two women towards the centre of

the Northern wall. Each woman in the fresco is dressed identically, each wearing a long-sleeved

468 Grimes, The Craft of Ritual Studies, 250. 469 It is also for this reason that I assume the baptisms at Dura were likely conducted one by one; two instances of dedicatory inscriptions in the space indicates that such a practice was encouraged, and that individual time was allotted for initiates. There could conceivably have been more than one initiate, but the procession would be “delayed” or “blocked,” if you will, at random intervals. This style of procession is possible, but less seamless than an individual walk-through model. 470 Please see Appendix C1, C2 and C3 for author’s photo of the Processional Women imagery. My own observations and measuring of the frescoes found them to stand about a head below my own stature, with the major details of the depicted faces being well at eye-level.

157

white chiton belted at the waist” with a long white veil;471 they also carry small jars,

characteristic in proportion to the glass jars excavated throughout the Syrian region from the 3rd

century.472 Their procession is directed to a large white structure, with a “gabled top.” Above

both sides of the gabled top of the building are two multipoint stars, “each of which shows “a

central disc represented by three concentric circles” and yellow rays reaching out.”473

As Hera clearly identified so closely with the Processional Women, scholars have found

it imperative to identify who they are. I wish to preface my analysis of who they are by first

describing the need to view the art sequentially and with haptic art-viewing in mind. Sequential

art is tremendously important in Roman religious spaces. It conveys- in sequence- pivotal

information about Roman history and Roman identity. Dura itself, as footnoted previously, has

many examples of “processional art” that would have been viewed sequentially. There is nothing

to suggest that multiple meanings, and multiple Biblical narratives could not be read into the

programmatic art of the Baptistery; in fact, art historians note that polysemic images of Late

Antiquity Roman art are the main means of conveying multiple streams of social and religious

information.474 In Elsner’s writings on Roman, programmatic and sequential art, he describes

processional sequences as designed to provide links between multiple meanings and multiple

interpretations.475 The many possible meanings of the Baptistery’s Processional art make it

difficult to identity each fresco, but this flexibility is ritually advantageous. Even more

efficacious are links that can easily be made between the discreet pieces of art in a sequence. It

471 Peppard, The World’s Oldest Church, 114-115. 472 Please also see Appendix C3 for author’s photos of Syrian glass jars displayed at the Yale University Gallery as part of the Dura-Europos exhibit. 473 Peppard, The World’s Oldest Church, 114-115. 474 Wharton, Reconfiguring the Post Classical City, 49. 475 Elsner, Roman Eyes, 78-80.

158

is most contextually appropriate to examine how these Lower Register frescoes, in conjuncture

with the images in the Upper Register, form a thematically-linked sequence.476 It is this

sequential pattern that would likely be most impressed upon the performer during the ritual

ceremony as they view the art; the commonalities between two Biblical scenes are likely of

greater importance than the individual particularities of their art. Bearing this in mind, I will note

that there are two competing schools of interpretation regarding the Biblical identity of the

Processional Women.

The recent scholarship of Peppard identifies the Processional Women as the Wise and

Foolish Virgins known from the Gospel of Matthew. These figures are instrumental in the

development of bridegroom theology, something that features in several of Ephrem’s hymns.477

However, this interpretation would be significantly more likely and appropriate in the context of

4th century Syriac Christianity, specifically after the dissemination of John Chrysostom’s

baptismal doctrine.478 These writings are composed significantly after the abandonment of the

Durene House Church; whilst they were incredibly important to the Syriac understanding of

baptism, bridegroom theology was not widely connected to baptism in this early context.479

Origen explicitly connects the life of the baptized Christian to the exploration of the “spiritual

476 The frescoes need not be “intentionally” linked by the artist (here, they clearly were not intended as a single work of art). I mean to emphasize that, according to how “Roman eyes” considered art, connections between the “meanings” of artistic imagery were reliably and readily made. This is especially true when the art is seen in a ritual. For additional information, please see Elsner, Roman Eyes, 258. 477 Brock, The Luminous Eye, 115-120. Bridegroom theology can be gleaned from Ephrem’s description of the individual relationship between Christ and Christian, as he refers to this ‘faith” frequently as the bridal chamber of the heart. However, his discussion of wedding imagery almost overwhelmingly involves the collective “Church’s” being associated as the “Bride” (Israel). It is generally in the context of Mary-as-bride that baptism is described with wedding imagery. For further information, please see: Brock, The Luminous Eye, 125-130. 478 Bradshaw, Early Christian Worship, 15-20. 479 To reiterate, Kraeling identifies Antioch as the most likely original “school” for the Roman Durene Christians, a city Origen was familiar with. For further information, please see: Kraeling, Excavations at Dura, 109-111.

159

wedding” between the Christian and Christ.480 It is not, in Origen’s estimation, a union available

to the catechumen or to the newly baptized Christian.481

Because of Dura’s early date, and the lack of evidence for “bridegroom theology” in the

site, I am inclined to favour Kraeling’s interpretation of the fresco. Kraeling identifies them as

“the women of the empty tomb,’ myrrophores who arrive at the tomb of Jesus to anoint the body,

and discover the tomb empty.482 The thematic connection between anointing, which Hera had

recently undergone, is clear. Moreover, “anointing” a dead body for the purpose of ritual purity

is more in keeping with the associations around oil in Syria. The textual evidence

overwhelmingly connects anointing with purification and healing; overcoming literal demons or

more figurative ones such as death and disease. The entire House Church, as discussed at length

in the previous chapter, was demarcated along such pure/impure lines. The women in the fresco,

the notably “Durene” women with whom Hera so clearly identified, might be read as the

myrrophores who were the first witnesses of the resurrection of Jesus. In other words, they are

connected, thematically, to the ritual purification that had been undertaken at the previous

baptismal station. They further evoke the theme of Jesus’s death and resurrection, key ideas in

early Christianity that become linked, in this ritual context, to the idea of purifying and “sealing”

against ills.483

480 Heine, Origen: Scholarship, 171. 481 Heine, Origen: Scholarship, 171. 482 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 44. 483 Gabriele Winkler, in studying Armenian, Syro-Palestine and Jordanian Christian liturgical treatment of oil, makes a division between “Eastern” Christian communities- which favour rejuvenation, and rebirth as themes- and “Western” Christian communities, who favour Pauline “death mysticism.” This thesis has been challenged by Bryan Spinks who argues that such a division cannot be made in the 2nd and 3rd century. I am inclined to favour Spinks’ hypothesis, as liturgical variation was the norm even within a small geographic area. Hera in Dura may have been exposed to both types of imagery, or neither. I argue that the Processional women of the Durene Baptistery are myrrophores because this theme of “dying-and-rising” with Christ best resonates with its place, in a sequence, with

160

The Processional Women further promote direct identification in that they are dressed

like Durene citizens and they carry the small pots identifiable from Durene material remains.484

They also carry the torches that the witnesses or catechumens would have likely carried

throughout their own processional. Their clothing is remarkably typical of Durene chitons;

though chitons are found throughout the Roman East, Jennifer Baird makes a convincing

argument for their being Parthian in origin.485 This detail marks the clothing on display as far

more specific than the simple, Hellenic tunic worn by David in the anointing-niche fresco. Their

small oil pots most readily resemble the small, green-glass oil pots commonplace to Durene

houses.486 Each of these features, when taken in totality, suggests that the Processional women

were designed to resemble Durenes. As such, the figures reinforce the idea that “becoming”

Christian does not necessitate a radical transformation or negation of “Durene” Roman life. In

fact, when the Processional Women are considered alongside the Durene witnesses, an entire

“Durene” community event is simulated. The “Durene” bodies in the space, both real and

artistically rendered, contribute to a sense of Processional pageantry even in the insular, enclosed

environment of the Baptistery.487 The Processional is leading the Christian initiate into a new,

interior world, one where “Christianity” was the prioritized mode of identity and worldview.

Nevertheless, the Durene markers of the processional art preserve Durene identity; it is re-

contextualized to bolster a Christian life.488 The Durene community is affirmed, rather than lost.

the other frescoes. More to the point, Dura’s “Christianizing” influence is deeply associated with Rome, as opposed to the East. For further information, please see Peppard, The World’s Oldest Church, 55. 484 Please see Appendix C3 for author’s photos of Roman Syrian glass oil jars. 485 Baird, The Inner Lives of Ancient Houses: An Archaeology of Dura-Europos, 112. 486 Baird, The Inner Lives of Ancient Houses: An Archaeology of Dura-Europos, 120. 487 Elsner, “Cultural Resistance and the Visual Image: The Case of Dura Europos,” 302. 488 Elsner, “Cultural Resistance and the Visual Image: The Case of Dura Europos,” 298-301. I should note that I disagree that Durene art was a notable form of Durene “resistance” to Roman hegemony; however, the use of a standard, Roman artistic trope succeeds in reconciling a Durene life with the concept of a new, Christian life. 161

These Processional Women, however, now situate Durene identity in a new place, against a

sequence of Christian ideas, themes and tropes.

Minimal counter-intuitiveness can be used to explain how the initiation- and the

acquisition of new, Christian information- is deepened by Hera finding these figures “familiar.”

István Czachesz identifies this “minimally counterintuitive” behaviour as cognitively successful

in impressing new information onto the religious convert.489 The minimally counterintuitive

principle of cognitive science suggests that challenging information is more readily absorbed

when it is partially understood through a combination of possible cultural and scientific

precepts.490 This new information is more readily absorbed than information that is either

completely intuitive or completely divorced from physical reality. The myrrophores resemble

Durene women, like Hera, and so, it is an “intuitive” choice for Hera to associate with them.

Familiar Durene signifiers have been re-contextualized and re-associated with the Christian

narrative. The myrrophores, in sense, are seen as Durene, allowing Hera to easily identify with

these first Christians.491

Cognitive science of religion suggests that memories and teaching are far more deeply

instilled when they violate a cultural category in an ontologically possible way. According to

Pascal Boyer, humans better to relate and recall new information when the concept directly

relates to a “human” and, therefore, recognizable, category.492 Moreover, people, when

489 István Czachesz, “The Promise of the Cognitive Science of Religion for Biblical Studies,” 11-12. 490 István Czachez and Risto Uro, Mind, Morality and Magic: Cognitive Science Approaches in Biblical Studies (New York: Routledge, 2014), 58. 491 P. Boyer and C. Ramble, “Cognitive Templates for Religious Concepts: Cross-cultural Evidence for Recall of Counter-intuitive Representations,” Cognitive Science 25 (2001):535‒564. http://dx.doi.org/10.1207/s15516709cog2504_2 492 P. Boyer, The Naturalness of Religious Ideas: A Cognitive Theory of Religion (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1994), 125-127. 162 considering religious ideas, are far more likely to ascribe agency to something perceived as

“human,” allowing supernatural ideas to be more readily identified with and accepted. Hera’s identification with the life-sized Processional Women is both predictable and ritually effective.

An important, but physically implausible miracle becomes far more readily understood when a human “agent” is “present” through the minimal counter-intuitiveness. It is far more difficult for

Hera to identify with the resurrected Christ, a fully supernatural religious agent. However, she can more fully understand the miracle of his resurrection by identifying with an agent, present in the ritual, who is fully human. These ritual agents, who accompany Hera along her Processional, allow her to cognitively enter the experience of Christ’s resurrection.

A more theological reading of the Processional Women- considering the implications of the narrative of the myrrophores493- also better contextualizes and synthesizes the ritualistic

“meaning” of the other images in the baptismal place. Myrrophores, after all, were main witnesses to the ultimate miracle of Christ’s resurrection. This miracle, and the association of

Christian identity with such a miracle, establishes a trope of dying and rising to a new life. This new life, through Hera’s ritual, is more legibly understood as life of protections from evils than as a wedding (at least in this particular point of the initiation ritual).

As discussed in regards to the anointing niche, Hera's experience of the Eastern and

Northern walls of the Baptistery is guided by a cluster of ideas. She continues to feel the oil, with all its associations of health, purification, and protection, as she encounters the identifiable

Lower Register of Processional women. She has already been introduced to the idea of a

“shepherd” protecting his flock when she saw the fresco imagery of David. Now, along the

493 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 190. 163

Eastern wall, she encounters such a “flock” in the form of the Christian witnesses who sit on the bench and watch her baptismal processional. Hera also views the new imagery- the Processional women- through concepts such as “oil,” “flock,” and “protection.” It is her ritual movement that links (albeit in a flexible and shifting way) the disparate clusters and tropes that build a new identity for the initiate. Hera, in identifying herself as a witness to Christ’s resurrection (through the myrrophores), is further invited to associate Christ and the resurrection with the protection and the purifications embodied in the oil of the “seal.” These links are further cemented as Hera progresses to the baptismal font. As she moves forward her experience (and her maintained sight) of the Lower Register will be used to “read” the Upper Register frescoes, which also depict miracles. The themes and tropes she has already been introduced to will guide her interpretation of these miracles, and inform the associations she makes between the miracles and baptismal initiation. These two will be addressed as their own “station” below.

The Northern Wall Miracles and Healed Threshold of Christian Place:

As Hera continues her processional towards the Baptismal font, she walks along the

Northern Wall of the Baptistery. For the most part, the Processional Women’s frescoes are at her eye-level, and constitute the dominant image in her immediate experience. Directly above her head, however, are two large frescoes depicting miracles of the Gospel narratives. These are termed the “Miracle frescoes” by Kraeling. I will discuss both North Wall miracle frescoes together, as I think they have a common theme, and a theme that visualizes and cements the ritual effects/potency of the anointing, which had recently been performed.

164

One of the observed miracle frescoes depicts Jesus’ Walking on Water to rescue Peter

from drowning in the Sea of Galilee. The fresco494 is located on the central Western portion of

the Northern Wall. It depicts the scene from the Gospel of Matthew, displaying the Apostles’

ship on the Sea of Galilee. Beneath this ship are two figures- Jesus and Peter. The figures face

the processional initiate, and would be slightly above Hera’s eye-level. If Hera had turned her

head to the left when she stopped to carve her name, she would have seen Peter rising just above

eye level, 495 with Jesus reaching out towards the “rising figure” and towards Hera herself.496

Ritualistically, the placement of the figures allows Hera to encounter Jesus visually as the agent

performing the miracle; the person opposite to this agent (in this case, Hera) would be the

recipient of the miraculous saving. With Peter sharing and mirroring this directionality (as seen

with the Processional Women), a thread of identification between Peter (the “saved” figure in the

fresco) and the catechumens is preserved. They are in a similar process of being elevated and

saved through their partaking in Christian ritual.

“Being saved,” is thematically quite similar to “being healed,” and the link between these

two concepts is preserved in the sequential pattern of Upper Register frescoes. The next fresco

encountered along the Upper Register of the Northern wall depicts the Healing of a Paralytic.497

Like the other Upper Register frescoes, the figures here are sketched, rather than rendered in

close, identifiable detail.498 It is the only other fresco in the baptistery to explicitly depict Jesus;

he is directly present in the art, retaining a visual/optic impression on the processing catechumen.

494 Please see Appendix D for author’s photo of the Jesus Walking on Water fresco. 495 Degradation of the fresco actually allows us a better view of Jesus than Peter, who is not entirely depicted in the remaining available art. Please see Appendix D for reference. 496 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 39. Scholars agree with Kraeling’s reading that it is Christ, reaching out towards Peter, who is the lower figure depicted; the raised Peter is depicted as being in the process of being saved. 497 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 50. 498 Please see Appendix F for author’s photos of frescoes. 165

As Hera processes towards the Baptismal font, she sees the paralytic on his mat, with Jesus

hovering above him. To the right of the bed-ridden paralytic is a depiction of the same figure,

arisen and carrying the map on his back. This scene occurs directly at the Northwest corner of

the Baptistery. It acts, spatially, as a visual foreshadowing of the “healing” that is connected with

the baptismal font, which will shortly be entered.

The identity of this particular fresco scene is subject to more debate than the previous

one. As the Biblical scene of the “Healing of the Paralytic” directly precedes the baptismal font,

its identity and interpretation informs the moment of baptism itself (as it would be the artistic

scene viewed before the climatic event.) Furthermore, the scene depicted in this fresco informs

the thematic reading of the previous fresco (that of Jesus saving Peter), as the two are clearly

designed to be viewed as a sequence of “miracles.”499 Therefore, the differing opinions as to the

identity of the fresco at hand has some major implications on which “themes” are prioritized in

the miracle frescoes.

Both miracle frescoes are linked, by context, to the miracle of Christian baptism. That

being said, neither depicts a scene of baptism; neither shows Christ’s baptism by John, or any

disciple undergoing baptism at all. Scholars, when analyzing the fresco, have looked to find

imagery or symbolism that concretely associates the miracles shown with imagery associated

with baptisms. Peppard suggests that the “Healing” fresco depicts the sick man at the pools of

Bethesda. He draws this conclusion from “water markings” he interprets around the image of the

bed-ridden paralytic. These “markings” extend from black marks delineating the “sea of Galilee”

499 The borders of the artistic scenes shown are deliberately shared; this implies that the images were painted, originally, as a sequential, linked set of images.

166 that are present in the associated fresco of Jesus saving the drowning Peter.500 Peppard’s identification of the fresco is, therefore, reliant on water (as in, baptismal waters) being the key image in both frescoes. He argues that while “the healing of a paralytic is also recorded in the

Synoptic Gospels…, John’s version is only one narrated with a connection to water.”501 Peppard also describes the Johannine account as the predominant one privileged by Ephrem, Tertullian, and John Chrysostom.502 “Water” is the main image, according to Peppard, that connects both

Miracle frescoes to the miracle of baptism.503 He links the two miracle frescoes as sharing the common “raging rivers” trope of Syriac poetry, where the “raging waters” of both Galilee and the pools of Bethesda are described as baptismal events.504

A careful examination of each fresco, and an examination of them in tandem, easily challenges Peppard’s identification of the depicted “Paralytic.” Both frescoes are only associated with baptism through virtue of the space; neither scene depicts a baptism. When the two are thoroughly examined, “water” is clearly not the predominant image or theme. While water is explicitly shown in the Peter fresco, the event taking place is a miracle of faith; Peter’s submerged situation is depicted as a harm that Christ alleviates. Peter, though he is submerged in water, is not undergoing a baptism. The choice to include the boat in the fresco suggests that the community wanted initiates to recall this particular Gospel narrative; just as the image of

“shepherd” David places the Biblical story, the saving of Peter at Galilee is immediately suggested by the boat. The Gospel narrative is a story about faith, not a direct analogy for

500 Please see Appendix D1 for author’s photos of frescoes. 501 Peppard, The World’s Oldest Church, 94. 502 Peppard, The World’s Oldest Church, 95. 503 Peppard, The World’s Oldest Church, 88-87 504 Peppard, The World’s Oldest Church, 111.

167

baptism.505 In addition, there is nothing about the Durene performance of baptism that associates

the rite with “raging rivers,” or the natural, rushing bodies of water discussed in works like the

Odes of Solomon.506 If “raging rivers,” was the dominant baptismal metaphor for the Durene

Christians, the community could certainly have used the Euphrates river to emphasize this. As

discussed in Chapter Three, the community made a deliberate choice to model their baptismal

font as a “bath,” regardless of the accessibility and proximity of the Euphrates to the city. Full

immersion into water was also not performed into the ritual space. Because “raging rivers” and

the immersion in them is not, at any point, part of Durene baptismal ritual, it is unlikely that it

would predominant as a theme in Durene baptismal art. The emphasis of Peter’s salvation is not

on the miracle of the living waters. Instead, the emphasized lesson of this narrative is Peter’s

faith in Christ.

In the Gospel narrative, Peter (referred to in the Diatessaron as Cephas) is raised from

waters by Christ directly, after renouncing his doubt and regaining faith in Christ’s divinity. The

text states:

Then Cephas answered and said unto him, My Lord, if it be thou, bid me to come unto thee on the water. And Jesus said unto him, Come. And Cephas went down out of the boat…he feared, and was on the point of sinking; and he lifted up his voice, and said, My Lord, save me. And immediately our Lord stretched out his hand and took hold of him, and said unto him, Thou of little faith, why didst thou doubt?… And those that were in the ship came and worshipped him, and said, Truly thou art the Son of God (Tatian, Diatessaron XIX [Peterson]).

Here, Peter benefits from his faith and from his association with Jesus. This miracle is

witnessed by the other Apostles, deepening their own faith. Such witnessing is embodied here in

505 Peppard in fact refers to this as the standard interpretation of the miracle. For further reference, please see: Peppard, The World’s Oldest Church, 111. 506 Peppard, The World’s Oldest Church, 111. 168 the ritual space. Hera, having identified with the Lower Register Processional Woman, ritualistically views the Upper Register miracles through their “witnessing” perspective. If they are identified as myrrophores, as Kraeling argues, there is an additional layer of meaning to

Hera’s identification with them. The myrrophores, of course, are witnesses, in the Gospel account of Christ’s resurrection. Having identified closely with the Lower Register Processional women, Hera finds herself embodying their role- that of witnesses- when she passes the Upper

Register frescoes. She subsequently witnesses miracles of faith. Just as “those in the ship” came and worshipped Christ after witnessing the miracle of saving Peter, Hera, also a witness, is invited to partake in belief of “the Son of God.” She is also required to have faith in Christ’s miraculous ability to save and uplift.

The establishment of “faith” as a dominant baptismal scene shifts the logical interpretation of the next fresco, which depicts Jesus healing a bed-ridden man. The scene that

Peppard identifies, the healing of the sick man at the pools of Bethesda, can only be placed if an image of “pools” or “water” is explicitly present in the fresco. Such imagery is not shown. My own eyes can see no definitive etching that suggests a pool of water near the Paralytic.507 The

“water line” Peppard notes are coloured to resemble reddish earth, rather than a “raging river.” A particularly emphasized image of the fresco is the “bed” of the paralytic. There is no such bed in

John’s account of the miracle of healing at Bethesda. Instead, the reference to the “mat,” and the image of the man carrying the mat best place the fresco with the episode of miraculous healing in

Mark 2:1-12,508 where a group of men demonstrate their faith by laying their paralytic cohort in

507 Please see Appendix E for author’s own photo of the Healing of the Paralytic fresco. 508 Mark 2:1-12

169

front of Jesus.509 As in the miraculous saving of Peter, explicit in the previous fresco, the

connection between “healing” and “Christ” is made through “faith,” rather than baptism. The

dominant imagery of both these miracle frescoes is not water; it is “Christ as Healer,” where the

healing occurs through faith in Christ.

In both miracles, “faith” in Jesus results in some form of spiritual or physical healing.

The Northern wall does not depict the miracles of baptismal waters, or “raging rivers.” It

cumulatively creates a zone where faith in Christ is associated with his healing powers. This

trope, “Christ as Physician” or “healer,” is widely influential in the early Christian teachings.

The Syrian region is notable for characterizing Christ as a physician, but this association is not

limited to Syriac Christianity. New Testament stories of the Paralytic miracle describe Christ,

primarily, as physician, regardless of the presence of water. Christ is notably referred to as

“Physician,” in Luke 5:31-32. Ephrem is known for titling Christ “physician” in his Diatesseron

commentary.510 Furthermore, the Didascalia frequently describes Christ’s works as acts of

“healing,” noting that “…as a wise and compassionate physician He was healing all, and

especially those who were gone astray in their sins…” (Didascalia VII [Connolly]). This chapter

uses the shepherding metaphor in conjuncture with Christ’s healing work. This is early evidence

for the symbolic resonance being made between Christ-as-Physician and Christ-as-Good-

509 The Diatessaron also quotes from Luke’s account of the same episode. Nevertheless, it shall be referred to here as the “Markan” account of the Healing of the Paralytic, for clarity. (Luke 19-25 are referred to in in Peterson’s translation of the Diatessaron). Because of the artistic emphasis on Christ, the raised man, and the “bed,” I am confident that the fresco depicts the Markan miracle tale (mirrored by Luke) rather than the Johannine episode at Bethesda. The Diatessaron most explicitly connects healing with “pools” in the words of a healed blind man, recounting his miraculous healing, rather than a direct depiction of the miracle. 510 Peppard, The World’s Oldest Church, 96.

170

Shepherd. Through baptismal initiation, followers of Christ (his “flock”) were treated to both healing and protection.511

Peppard quotes Susan Ashbrook Harvey as saying that the “imagery of healing and bodily health or wholeness is one of the most pervasive and enduring themes of Syrian

Christianity, appearing throughout its regions and across its various doctrinal forms.”512 Harvey has examined the connection between Christ and fragrant offerings, and the healing association/power that such fragrant offerings entertained in the Syrian region.513 Harvey notes that the connection between Christ and bodily healing established early in Syrian Christian development; the earliest writings of the Syriac school show an interest in Christ healing through baptisms, and connecting this idea to Christ’s own incarnation514 (the Syriac writings distance themselves from Christ's resurrection).515 She also notes that Ephrem’s hymns point to certain expectations of Syrian prayer, Syrian communal behaviour, and Syrian ritual itself. One major aim is to create a purified, healed body, “a body healed physically and socially of its physical and civic forms.”516 The confluence of baptismal steps, and the Syrian-area readings of these steps, thoroughly relate to healing the body. The body is ritually exorcised, a process depicted in

511 This will be the topic of the next section in this chapter, when the baptismal font is discussed. 512 Susan Ashbrook Harvey, “Syria and Mesopotamia.” in The Cambridge History of Christianity: Volume 1, Origins to Constantine, ed. by Margaret M. Mitchell, Frances M. Young, and K. Scott Bowie, 351–66 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), 360, as quoted by Peppard, The World’s Oldest Church, 106. 513 Susan Ashbrook Harvey. “St Ephrem on the Scent of Salvation” in Journal of Theological Studies 49, no.1 (1998): 109-110. doi:10.1093/jts/49.1.109. 514 Susan Ashbrook Harvey, “Praying Bodies at Prayer: Ritual Relations in Early Syriac Christianity,” in Spiritual Life 4, ed. Pauline Allen et al. (Sydney: St. Paul’s Publications, 2006): 152. 515 The Lower Register, when read conjecture with the Upper Register Miracle frescoes, places an “empty tomb” under an image of Christ raising a paralytic. This sequence resonates most strongly as a “resurrection sequence.” For this reason, I argue that the Durene Syrians were far more likely be in line with the standard, Greco-Roman baptismal association- “healing” through the dying and rising of Christ. This does not discount the resonance of the “Christ-as-Physician” metaphor. For additional information, please see Harvey, “Praying Bodies,” 150. 516 Harvey, “Praying Bodies,” 150.

171 the Acts of Thomas as a physical recovery from disease;517 it is “sealed” with substance understood in a Syrian context to have powers of healing; it is finally baptized with water, where it takes on the perfected character of Christ, cleansed of all impurities while being protected from bodily ills. Harvey further notes that “baptism” continuously is associated with being “healed, cleansed and formed anew” on a physical level; a fourth-century Syriac Hymn (of unknown authorship) reads “See how beautiful and perfect/How glorious and holy {the baptized} are”).518

Such hymnology is too late for the confines of this project. Nevertheless, the Syriac tradition continues to associate baptism with the healed, perfected human body. The trope “Christ” as physician particular in spiritual terms- was well-established by the second century. It follows logically that this Syrian community would associate healing with Christ’s miracles, and healing with Christian acceptance of Jesus.

The direct, powerful, and explicit benefits of faith-in-Christ are augmented even further when both Upper Register miracle scenes are viewed in conjuncture with the Lower Register

Processional Women (as they would be by the ritualized body). A sequential, ritualized reading of this art further emphasizes one potential reading of the Processional Women. Hera, having been anointed- a seal against evils- and closely identifying with the Processional women, would continue to associate oil its healing powers. As she traverses the Northern wall, the “zone of miracles” she visually encounters a different source for oil’s healing potential- Christ himself.

The “mark” of oil becomes connected to Christ’s miracles, miracles bestowed on faithful adherents (who in turn, are marked as such with the seal). Hera progresses to the portion of the

517 For a thorough narrative depiction of the healing powers of baptismal-exorcism, please see Acts of Thomas/Chapter 121, 206. 518 Harvey, “St Ephrem on the Scent of Salvation,” 109.

172

Processional fresco where she would see a large, gabled white building. This building is the

“empty tomb of the Gospel of Mark” as Kraeling suggested, and its prominence in the space emphasizes Jesus’ ultimate triumph over death and promise of eternal life.519 Looking up, Hera would see the rising Jesus; he hovers over the paralytic, but he also, in the same plane of vision, hovers over this empty tomb. Christ is positioned so that he reaches down and towards the processing initiates. Hera, so closely identified with the Processional Women, would therefore be encouraged to identify as yet another witness to the resurrection of Christ. This association is complimentary to the benefits Hera associates with the seal. She sees a miracle of salvation from drowning, and then a moment of salvation from physical ills and sin. She “witnesses” both

Peter’s and the Paralytic’s “rising” to a new, better life through faith in Christ. Finally, as she walks to the Baptismal font, she witnesses Christ’s ultimate salvation from death. Each fresco along this wall plays a role in establishing “faith in Christ” as healing and protecting the initiate.

Moreover, all the ritual steps the initiate has undergone at this point are consonant with this reading. The Upper Register, in conjuncture with the Lower Register “resurrection sequence" and the ritual activities, exists as a zone of miraculous healing. This zone acts as an identifiable

“place” that helps defines faith and health as connected motifs in a Christian identity.

The Baptismal Font and the Joining of a Christian Community:

The climb into the baptismal font is the event at which the initiation is realized. Here, as in the anointing station, a ritual agent for baptism pours the water over Hera. In this case, the ritual agent was not merely a superior of the community, but the leader of the Christian community itself. The Bishop would be responsible for administering the ritual, but he would

519 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 190. 173

also represent the head of the community that Hera was intent on joining. This leadership

resonates with the positioning of the witnesses, a “cross-section” of the community associated

with this particular space. As Hera completes her initiation at the Western wall, she essentially

“performs” for the seated community at the Eastern Wall. Their watchful gaze is an affective

component of the ritual that had not been fully considered. The Christian identity Hera acquires

is mediated through, and understood through this communal experience.

Though it is a climatic point of the ritual, it still needs to be addressed in conjunction with

the rest of the space. Up until this point, Hera has been anointed, symbolizing her purification in

the midst of the space. She has furthermore, visually experienced miracles directly associated

with the anointing. All of these sensations, and “stations,” affect her experience of the baptismal

font, and her experience of the final moment of initiation. There are several pieces of art and a

wealth of imagery present during the baptism. However, as my interest lies in the body’s

interaction with this art- my focus is what happens to Hera on the bodily level- I will primarily

discuss the images insofar that they would be seen in the ritual.

A plastered basin was installed directly by the west wall, necessitating direct carving

from the bedrock of the site.520 The basin was installed with a canopy; excavations of the canopy

suggest that the ceiling of the Baptistery was decorated to resemble the night sky, with a star

pattern directly overhead of the basin. The frequency of this pattern in Roman initiation spaces

has been widely observed. M. Clauss observes that most wall paintings in Mithraeum have a

star-like pattern over the taurectony, or on the cloak of Mithras.521 Though the initiate likely did

520 Please see Chapter 4 for a more thorough description of the font. 521 Ellen Swift and Anne Alwis, “The Role of Late Antique Art in Christian Worship: A Reconsideration of the Iconography of the ‘Starry Sky’ in the Mausoleum of Galla Placidia,” Papers of the British School at Rome. 78 (2010): 194.

174

not consider the ceiling at length during their initiation, the similarity between the two uses of

the “star” pattern indicates two things. The first is that both shrines were likely commissioned by

the same group of local Durene artists.522 The second is that both initiation ceremonies, at their

pivotal moment, signified a cosmological realignment- an alteration of the universe- to the

initiates.523 I do not believe we can speak to individual Durenes’ sense of cosmology.

Nevertheless, the “starry-sky” pattern, and the use of it in two initiation centres, speaks

initiation’s role in re-orienting, however dramatically, a world-view. At the very least, the

inclusion of the starry sky pattern indicates that the initiation’s transformative moment was

meant to occur at this space.

The dimensions of the baptismal basin support the idea that one would have stood, rather

than knelt, to experience the baptismal waters.524 Moreover, there is thematically rich, important

art that can be seen from the baptismal font. This would best be seen from a standing vantage

point, and it certainly makes sense that the baptistery decorations were intended to be seen

during the ritual.525 With that in mind, one needs to be particular as to what markers would have

stood out to Hera, considering that she would interpret these markers in the context of baptismal

affusion and the witnessing agent/community. The fresco that adorns the Baptismal niche is a

representation of a shepherd leading his flock to water; it will herein be known as the Good

522 Swift and Alwis, “The Role of Late Antique Art,” 194. 523 Swift and Alwis, “The Role of Late Antique Art,” 195. 524 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 26-27. 525 The dimensions indicate the following ritual gestures: Hera would turn to the left, and she would step into a shallow tub of water. The dimensions of the “tub” are small; it would be difficult for Hera to fully submerge herself, even if the tub was filled with water. Given her relative height, as estimated by the height of the graffiti'd name, it would be impossible for Hera to complete submerge herself in the font. The implication, therefore, is that she would have stepped into the baptismal font and stood for affusion baptism. Of course, it also suggests that the baptistery was not in constant use, allowing time for water used in the ceremony to evaporate away. This suggests that baptism was performed relatively sporadically, as I briefly suggested in Chapter 4.

175

Shepherd fresco.526 There is a strong, and seemingly intentional mirroring of the fresco and ritual

action at the font. The dress of the shepherd mirrors that of David at the anointing station,

reinforcing the presence of a pastoral shepherd during ritualistic climatic points. It brings the

initiation processional full circle, providing a visual consonance to the space and its thematic

content. More explicitly, the fresco does clearly indicate water, with the flock approaching these

waters. The ritual action- the experience of the baptismal waters- is indicated directly by the

image. Just as the David and Goliath fresco must be viewed as informing and bolstering a

particular part of the baptismal rite (in that case, anointing), the analysis of the Good Shepherd is

informed by its connection to the act of baptismal affusion. In addition to this image, scholars

widely concur that a small, white-etched depiction of two entombed individuals was a later

addition to this fresco. Though the reasons for this addition at a later date exceed the scope of

this project, they have been interpreted as Adam and Eve, which probably allude to Christ as the

New Adam, who cancels the sin of Adam and Eve. Their inclusion with the Good Shepherd

speaks to the development and perpetuation of Christian theology and the doctrine of salvation at

Dura.527

Of course, the act of baptismal affusion, as seen in the anointing station, divides attention

between the initiate and the art within the station. This is not to say that the images present in the

fresco are unimportant; simply that the initiate would be focused on a wide variety of stimuli, of

which art was only one component. The immediate sight of the fresco- and the most obvious

526 Please see Appendix G for author’s own photo of the fresco in question. The recreation of the Baptistery has since been removed from the Yale Exhibit. This makes analysis of the Good Shepherd particularly tricky, as the depth of the niche is not exhibited; suffice it to say that Hera would not have been in direct proximity to the fresco, contrasting to her close-up view of the Lower Register Processional Women. 527 As will be discussed in the conclusion of this chapter, the earlier frescoes do not strongly indicate an eschatological bent to the Durene Christians, though this could certainly develop over time. Because my focus is primarily in the dominant imagery and materiality, and this sketch of Adam and Eve would be difficult to see as one performed the ritual, I will not address it further. 176 interpretation of it- are cognitively prioritized as the ritual is undertaken. Peppard describes his eye-vantage viewpoint neophyte, Isseos, as turning from the Healing of the Paralytic, “eyeing the canopied font, and glancing at the “Good Shepherd” fresco,” located in the West Wall behind the baptismal font. However, as Hera approaches font, it seems likely that her full exposure to the

Good Shepherd iconography would be rather fleeting. She could conceivably see the Good

Shepherd image during her baptism, but it is just as likely that her attention would have been directed to the Bishop performing the affusion of water. The Good Shepherd is located within a shallow niche, and it is slightly withdrawn from her perspective, and nestled within the niche.528

She may have had her view obstructed by the support columns of the font,529 or the bishop. She may have had her attention drawn to other elements of the font (the canopy, with its “ceiling” of painted stars) or the ritual aids present in the space. It is helpful, in this case, to consider the fresco’s placement within the Baptistery. The placement along the “Upper Register,” as well as the non-representative, sketched figures, suggests that it too should be interpreted as a miracle in the Durene “miracle-pattern.”530

Thematically, the Good Shepherd is linked to the previous artistic program by emphasizing a miraculous event occurring around Jesus. Jesus is not directly depicted here, but the Biblical trope/metaphor is rendered explicitly. If he, according to the parable, exists as the shepherd, the sheep around him exist as the Christian community. The ritual action, as suggested by this fresco is that of a member, entering a flock, who is protected by Jesus. The flock is able to partake in water- the same “living water” that is the ultimate promise of Christian initiation

(Didache 7:1-2). If the community is represented by the sheep in the fresco, then the benefits of

528 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 181. 529 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 181. 530 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 182. 177

belonging to such a community are also suggested. The interaction between Hera’s body, the

ritual movement, and the place itself strongly suggests that the artistic “meaning” of the fresco

was, just as in the Healing of the Paralytic fresco, embodied in the ritual action itself.

Kraeling, interpreting the Good Shepherd fresco, notes that the symbolic Good Shepherd

takes the position of “God-representing” decoration that would typically found in Durene

temples, notably the Temples to Zeus and to Bel found around Dura's agora, and there is a direct

representation of Mithras in the niche above the taurectony of the Mithraeum.531 Certainly, the

“Good Shepherd” predates the usage of Jesus as “shepherd” as a Biblical image in early

Christian ritual art.532 Though Dura is itself an outlier in this regard (Jesus is depicted,

narratively, twice in the Baptistery art533), the down-to-earth use of a the “Good Shepherd” type

has a different, and important cognitive effect than a representation of Jesus-as-God/saviour.

Again, minimal counter-intuitiveness makes a more earthly representation of Jesus all the more

ritualistically efficacious.534 As a symbol of divinity, the Good Shepherd makes it possible for

the Durene initiate to feel intimately, contextually connected with the supernatural Christ; he

resembles a human, offers earthly protections, and is thus not alien to the ritual structure or to

Durene life. What is emphasized in each miracle fresco are the protections and benefits bestowed

on the initiate by a “human” agent, rather than an explicitly non-representative one. Moreover,

531In this case, Christ fulfills the role of the subject of the arete or dunamis. For additional information, please see: Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 171. Kraeling also notes that, while the Christian community was far more comfortable in the sacred decorative tradition than their Durene Jewish counterparts, a depiction of God in the baptistery font itself would be analogous to the pagan “sacra” category of art, and make the community vulnerable to charges of idolatry. For additional information, please see: Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 182-183. 532 Graydon F. Snyder, Ante Pacem: Archaeological Evidence of Church Life Before Constantine (Macon: Mercer University Press, 2003), 42. 533 The treatment of Jesus is considered “pictorial”- in that it is used to place the Biblical narrative- rather than “symbolic.” Jesus is not depicted here as a particular Christian type, in contrast to the typological depiction of “Good Shepherd.” 534 I noted previously that the Processional women can function as a vehicle through which Hera identifies with Christian miracles. Similarly, the Good Shepherd is a symbol that has both divine and earthly, worldly resonances. 178 the ritual agent- a human bishop- emphasizes the human agency and human authority in the climatic point of initiation.

The Good Shepherd, a standard Christian “type,” is thoroughly connected to ideas of community, and ownership The Shepherd guards and protects a community; this community is literally marked as belonging, as one flock, to the shepherd. It is the communal connotations of the climatic artistic depiction that are best preserved when the Good Shepherd metaphor is examined in the early texts. Like the idea of “Christ as Physician,” the Good Shepherd was widely associated with the development of a Christian community across regions and different schools; it is not associated explicitly with later Syriac Christianity, but instead is a foundational element of the trajectory of Christian development. The Good Shepherd parable is presented in the Greek Diatesseron; the familiar Johannine quotation of “knowing my own and my own will know me” is incorporated into the harmonized Gospel account directly (Tatian, Diatessaron

XXXVII [Peterson]). This suggests that the image, and the communal associations thereof, were readily retained in the Syrian region. Kraeling notes that the Good Shepherd parable, when used in baptismal discourse across Christendom, is employed during a moment of “acceptance,” and is quoted when the initiate has been accepted into the “flock.”535

Graydon F. Snyder’s Ante Pacem: Archaeological Evidence of Church Life Before

Constantine makes the argument, primarily from early evidence from sarcophagi and catacombs, that the Good Shepherd was one of the earliest “human” images associated with Christian ritual decoration.536 Jesus and Mary were rarely represented, in this early visual history, as

535 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 181. 536 Snyder, Ante Pacem, 41.

179

“independent symbols.”537 Snyder further establishes Dura’s depiction of The Good Shepherd to be according to the dominant type. The early depictions of Good Shepherd depict a narrative scene, with an adult male Shepherd actively leading a flock to water (this flock typically consists of adult, horned rams, instead of the lamb image that would come to dominate Christian imagery and supplant the favouring of the Good Shepherd type). Therefore, early Christians were far more likely to associate Christ as the “Shepherd.”538 Furthermore, Snyder argues that a standard expectation of The Good Shepherd, according to art historian Quasten, was as a protector against demonic forces in catacombs.539 Snyder argues that this interpretation of the symbol need not be limited to funeral liturgy or funeral preparations; the Good Shepherd was commonly seen in baptisteries and domus ecclesiae, and its “protective” associations are applicable to the baptismal ritual/affect as well.540 Snyder notes that the Good Shepherd type commonly indicates “the joining of individuals into a caring community,” the huminatas symbol commonly understood in a Roman social matrix.541

Jensen also notes the prominence of the Good Shepherd image in her Understanding

Early Christian Art. Moreover, she argues that the Good Shepherd, and the Psalm 23, is even more connected to the baptismal rite than scholars like Quasten put forth. Quasten's analysis of the Naples baptismal use of the Good shepherd relies on the similar “branding” of a shepherd’s sheep as the Christian is sealed with the baptismal sphragis.542 Moreover, the Good Shepherd is

537 Snyder, Ante Pacem, 42. 538 Snyder, Ante Pacem, 42. 539 Snyder, Ante Pacem, 43. 540 Snyder, Ante Pacem, 42-43. 541 Snyder, Ante Pacem, 45. 542 Robin M. Jensen, Understanding Early Christian Art, (New York: Routledge, 2000), 84. (Like Jensen, I have Latinized the term for simplicity here).

180 often, in early Christian art, shown alongside ritual props, such as vases for baptismal affusion or platters/wine goblets associated with the Eucharist meal. The image, she argues, balances community, benefits, and protections, and is resonant with the idea of Christ’s kindness and works, and Christ’s community’s loving care and protection.543 This type of imagery bolsters and reinforces ritual activity; just as David, associated with “oil” is a useful type used to reflect the powers of anointing, the Good Shepherd proved to be a useful type for illuminating the powers and benefits of baptism. The image also reads, especially at this time, as a communal symbol, rather than a strong, dogmatic symbol of Christ’s divinity.544 Though Jensen notes that there are associations at this time between the Shepherd and Christ's eternal life, both determine it to be a more powerful symbol of lived protection than for a doctrine of salvation.

The Syrian usage of the Good Shepherd image continues to revolve around these two themes- marking and community. Most texts use the shepherd to indicate the guardianship bestowed on the initiate after this moment of acceptance. The Acts of Thomas describes a baptism as “guarding” the received neophyte from “wolves,” promising immediate flourishing in the form of “feed(ing) in thy meadows and let(ting) them drink of thy fountain” (Acts of Thomas

25). This particular quote suggests the “eternal living waters” of baptism, and is haptically carried through, in the Durene model, through the receiving of waters (mirroring the sheep’s drinking from the stream, shown in the fresco representation) at the Baptismal font. The full meaning of “living waters”- and the eternal life these indicate- is more solidified by the next fresco in the visual sequence, that of a Woman at a Well (to be discussed in the next section).

543 Jensen, Understanding Early Christian Art, 40. 544 Jensen, Understanding Early Christian Art, 41 181

Nevertheless, the benefits of belonging to this particular flock, and being lead to the waters by a

Good Shepherd, is an unavoidable theme in this space.

Ephrem’s hymns describe the “son of David”545 as “kill(ing) the hidden wolf that killed

Adam (Ephrem, Hymns on Nativity 7:8). Again, the Good Shepherd type is presented with other

earthly, pastoral images; Ephrem defines the threat against Christians as wild animals, such as

the aforementioned wolf He further describes the baptismal seal through this pastoral imagery,

describing the anointed as “brand(ed) sheep” having the “imprint” of a wax seal (Ephrem,

Hymns on Virginity 7:6). Certainly, Ephrem’s consistent focus on establishing an alternate,

uniquely Christian “brand” or “seal” (as a replacement for Jewish circumcision) speaks to the

continued association between Christian “branding” and the ritualistic use of shepherds, sheep,

and flocks imagery in Syrian communities.546

Hera could certainly be expected to interpret both the image of “the Good Shepherd” and

the idea of the baptismal seal in these terms, especially when the localized conditions of her city

are considered. She existed in a tumultuous, militarized garrison city, one that had a history of

conquest, and was subject to the ever-present of outside invaders. She was (and would continue

to be after baptism) a Durene-Roman citizen, understanding this new part of her identity through

“Durene” lens, which was conditioned through similar pressures and concerns. A baptism that

545 Referring to Jesus directly. 546 Brock, The Luminous Eye, 25. The marking of the flock is also resonant with the idea of adoption, specifically, adoption into a new, advantageous community. Writing about baptismal themes and tropes, Jensen notes that baptism was frequently defined as being “adopted” into a new family. This “family” was not defined in terms of blood relations. In the standard, Roman conception of this term, a person is adopted to increase status, erase crimes or debts, and achieve some sense of protected, elevated social position. The Didascalia, stipulating that baptismal sponsors should be non-relatives also implies that a “Christian family” was one consisting on non-biological bonds. Ephrem also to refers to the Christian communities in such socially advantageous terms, noting that “oil blots out the debts…in baptism” and “oil gave itself for purchase so that orphans may not be sold.” (Hymns on Virginity 7: 9-11). For further reference, please see: Jensen, Baptismal Imagery in Early Christianity, 60-61. 182 placed emphasis on safety, protections, and the lived, worldly benefits of belonging to a protected community would resonate dramatically with her lived experiences and emplaced worldview.

Such a community is on display while Hera is baptized. In the font, she is granted a full vantage perspective of the entire Baptistery place. She would continue to feel the original "seal" of anointing oil as she was baptized; after all, affusion-style baptism cannot sufficiently (with three pours of water) wash away the entirety of the oil. Instead, the seal of anointing, Hera’s initial mark as a Christian initiate would remain present as she received the final seal, indicating her full initiation within the font. It is from the font that the initiate would best be able to observe the totality of the Baptistery- namely its art, the witnessing members of the community, and the overall elements that make it an important, sacred, and identifiably Christian communal place.

The various symbols and sequences experienced in the art, seen from a new vantage point in the baptismal font, culminate in a simultaneous experience of Christian place and identity markers.

The experience of baptism ritually coincides with the initiate’s most immersive experience of both place and community. It is only when the initiate reaches the font that the Baptistery, its individual stations fully traversed, can be seen and experienced as a place. Similarly, the community’s emplacement within and association with this Christian place is fully conveyed by

Hera’s positioning in the Baptismal font. As such, a Christian place, and a Christian community, has ritually been “built” by the time the “living water” of baptism hit Hera’s skin.

Leaving the Baptismal Font and the Living Waters:

The next image that can be discussed as a “station” would be seen as Hera leaves the baptismal font. It would be the first signifier of her new life as a Christian, having just received

183

the all-important seal and mark of “belonging” in Christ’s flock. Though she could potentially

have seen the lower register fresco of a “woman at a well” earlier in her baptism processional,

her exit of the Baptismal font gives her the best impression of it; it occurs shortly to the left of

the door that she will exit, to be re-robed in Room 5 before taking Eucharist with the other

initiates and fully baptized members of the Christian community. It superficially depicts a

woman at a well, drawing water.547 Again, the thematic link between ritual action- baptismal

affusion- and visual signifier is maintained. Michael Peppard recently proposed a controversial,

but nevertheless exciting theory as to the identity of the Woman at a Well fresco. Peppard argues

that this fresco depicts the Virgin Mary at the Annunciation, and, consequently, transforms the

initiation space into a “womb" for a new life. Even meant metaphorically,548 there are numerous

ritualistic problems with this assessment. The first is that each fresco in the space has

consistently lead to a haptic interpretation. The David and Goliath image at the anointing station

gains meaning by Hera herself participating in the anointing.549 Similarly, when Hera follows the

Processional women throughout the space, she “witnesses” Christ’s miracles in the same way the

allegorical figures do. At the Woman at the Well fresco, there is no ritual step that Hera can

perform in conjuncture with ideas associated with the Annunciation. Instead, the Woman at the

Well must be interpreted by Hera’s actions at the font. Hera physically received the “seal” of

Christ in the baptismal font- this is readily understood in the affusion of water, which physically

manifests here as a watery over the maintained “seal” of oil on the skin. Beneath the canopied

“star” pattern, with the “empty tomb” with its bright “sunbursts” being visually present, the

547 Please see Appendix G for author’s own photo of the fresco. 548 There is nothing in the space that is indicative of childbirth, a Nativity Gospel, or other tropes of Marian theology. 549 Wharton, Reconfiguring the Post Classical City, 122.

184

initiate can visually experience emerging from the font to a new day, and with a cosmological

realignment.550 The art coincides with the ritualistic timeline provided in the previously

discussed ritual pamphlets, where Hippolytus and The Acts of Thomas both rely on the rising sun

to symbolize a new life (Hippolytus, Apostolic Tradition 21:1 and Acts of Thomas 26). What the

ritual does not act out is any sort of emergence from a womb. Full submersion would certainly

be a fuller acting out of emerging from a womb, but as previously stated, this would not be

possible in the Durene font. There are no other initiation spaces in the site which emphasize a

womb, suggesting that Christians had different key tropes in mind when considered the

decorations of an initiation place.551 Unlike the later baptisteries that were uncovered in North

Africa, the baptismal chamber is not designed to resemble a vulva or other feminine image.552

Despite the later connection between wombs, baptism, and new (eternal) life, the

positioning of the art in this Baptistery does not support such a trajectory. The ritual movement

of Hera is what ultimately links these many images into meaningful Christian tropes, guiding the

overall themes associated with baptism. Hera’s trajectory around the space, and her recalled

experience of the other images and Biblical scenes, readily informs her experience at the font,

and her interpretations of the frescoes she sees at these stations. The ritual trajectory emphasizes

the Woman at the Well towards the end of the baptism processional, as Hera leaves the baptismal

font. It must also be read in conjecture with the other miracle frescoes on the North Wall. The

themes gleaned previously- emphasizing physical purification, the saving power of faith in

Christ, Christ’s miracles of healing, and protective elements of belonging to his “flock”- all

550 Swift and Alwis, “The Role of Late Antique Art,” 194. 551 Perkins, The Art of Dura-Europos, 50-55. 552 J. Patout Burns Jr. and Robin M. Jensen, Christianity in Roman Africa: The Development of its Practices and Beliefs (Grand Rapids: Wm B. Eerdmans Publishing Co, 2014), 110. 185

suggest that this fresco too represents a miracle of Christ’s from the Gospels. The step that had

just been undertaken in the font was the pouring of water. Therefore, water should be analyzed as

a key image through which to interpret the fresco. Water, in a baptismal context is

overwhelmingly associated with “living water,” and one particular figure. This archetypal

woman is the Samaritan woman of the Gospel of John.553

The passage wherein the Samaritan woman appears is a lengthy one, preserved in near-

entirety in the Syriac synthesized Diatessaron, and, more importantly, it addresses purity, water,

and community in a linked way.554 Kraeling argues that, because the focal point of the fresco

here is the well, the most appropriate typology must revolve around narratives involving wells.

For this, he offers two explanations – Rebecca and her well in Genesis, and/or the Samaritan

Woman of John.555 The trope of the Samaritan Woman was far more convincingly to a Syrian

community, often being found in the writings of Ephrem and in the writings of Ignatius.556

Like Christ as Physician and The Good Shepherd, the Samaritan woman is an especially

early Christian image. She has been used in Christian catacomb art to represent the eternal life

promised to Christian adherents. Robin Jensen, in describing the 4th century Via Latina

catacomb art, states that the “Samaritan woman is a standard motif,” forming an early mode of

pictorial typology.557 Moreover, Jensen analyzes the Callistus catacomb, and notes that the

553 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 186. 554 John 4:1-26. 555 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 187-189. 556 Please note that, while Ignatius is not Syrian, he is closely associated with the Antioch school of Greek liturgy, which Kraeling hypothesizes was the dominant influence of the Durene Christians, if any such influence could predominate over others in this location. For further information, please see: Kraeling,, Excavations at Dura- Europos,189. 557 Jensen, Understanding Early Christian Art, 91.

186

typographic images that abound here are the same associated with early baptismal imagery. In

the instance of this catacomb, the Samaritan Woman is found in conjunction with scenes of the

baptisms of apostles, and the Good Shepherd. Callistus’ catacomb, according to Jensen’s

research, is contemporaneous with Dura's Baptistery.558 It stands as strong evidence that early

pictorial typology- especially in the context of ritual baptism, and the promise of new, eternal

life- drew some connection between the Good Shepherd and the Samaritan woman, rather than

the Virgin Mary.559

More importantly, reading the fresco with the Samaritan woman in mind far more closely

mirrors Hera’s ritualistic experience, and her experience of the baptismal place itself. As stated

before, the “eternal” life conferred by Baptismal waters is hinted at in the placement of the Good

Shepherd in the niche of the Baptismal font. Even as community is emphasized to the initiate,

and Hera is “marked,” through baptism, as belonging to this community, there is an image of

water. The flock, in drinking from this “water” is given an additional benefit of belonging to the

“shepherd.” The logically follow-up to this foreshadowing is the characterizing of this water as

“living”- meaning, the water that bestows the eternal life promised by the “shepherd.” The full

implications of the Good Shepherd fresco, and the eternal benefits of baptism, are made

immediately coherent if the Samaritan women, associated with living water, is the final,

culminating image of the space. The Diatessaron preserves Jesus’ invocation to the woman:

558 Jensen, Understanding Early Christian Art, 91. 559 One might potentially see some resonance between the communal connotations so emphasized in the font and the providence of the “Samaritan woman” herself. “Samaria,” an ostracized community in ancient Judea/Samaria, would be “brought into the fold” by Christ’s ministry. Ephrem’s Hymn on Virginity 22 does reference the tensions in Judaic custom that divided Judea and Samaria. However, one can only argue this as guiding Durene ritual if one can confirm that such Judaic connotations were exported from Palestine to Dura with the original Gospel narratives, As such, a thorough investigation of what “Samaritan” could confer to Hera is beyond the scope of this project. For further reference, please see Ephrem, Hymn on Virginity 22:6, 356. 187

Every one that drinketh of this water shall thirst again: but whosoever drinketh of the water which I shall give him shall not thirst for ever: but the water which I shall give him shall be in him a spring of water springing up unto eternal life (Tatian, Diatessaron XXI [Peterson]).

The passage is powerfully embodied by the Hera initiate as she sees the image of the

Woman after her experience of the baptismal waters. As she leaves the Baptistery, she too is imprinted with the promise of a “spring of water springing up unto eternal life.”

Having viewed this fresco, and returning to the door she had previously seen to enter the chamber, Hera would then exit the Baptistery. Being imprinted both with oil, and also with

“living water,” Hera now re-enters the liminal space of Room 5. New layers to her identity were acquired, and this “layering” and realigning of identity is further cemented in the ritual action of garbing herself in white robes. This ritual action coincides with Ephrem’s “robes of glory.”560

Hera’s next “ritual station,” and where I have chosen to leave her, would occur in Room 4, the

Assembly Hall. Here, Hera would take Eucharist, as stipulated in all available baptismal literature. However, more than taking Eucharist, she would be introduced to the Christian community at large. This space, like the Baptistery, was one she could not access as a catechumen. Having now crossed into this threshold, Hera would find many more members of the protected flock alluded to in the Baptistery. Her fast would end; she would partake in the

“kiss of peace” with the Bishop, and be nourished through the eating of bread and wine. Her normal existence (eating, conversing, etc.) would resume, however, it would resume with her

Christian identity becoming prioritized and omnipresent in her life moving forward.

560 Brock, The Luminous Eye, 94-95. 188

Concluding Remarks and the Implications of the Baptistery on Christian Ritual and Identity:

A simulated “walk-through” of the Baptistery, conducted from “Hera’s” visual and sensual perspective concluded two main principles about Durene baptism, and its role in the development of Christian identity. The first principle that must be considered is baptism’s role as an initiation ritual. As stated by many of scholars of early Christianity, the essential aim of baptism was to initiate new members into a new community, to orient them into a new way of life. This is especially true of Dura-Europos, where many different peoples were developing their religious identities and communities through initiation activity. The Baptistery as an initiation space for Durene Christians; it is a place devoted to establishing, marking, and affirming what

“Christian” identity, Christian community, and Christian life entailed.

The materiality of the Dura-Europos House Church, whether it be the physical building, or in the symbolic art within the Baptistery, reflects and conditions the Christian initiation practice. Therefore, though the tropes associated with Christianity and baptism are instilled on a profound, individual level, the ritual itself must be understood as a communal event. It takes the form of an interactive performance, one simultaneously conditions the ritual body, and the social body that it will eventually be accepted into. The Durene initiation ritual is both integral for identity acquisition and for defining the idea of a Christian community. At the same time, Hera is not only being initiated as an individual; she is experiencing and entering a community that is defined by the tropes she experiences as a ritual event. Conversely, the community members, participating in the creation of a new Christian, reaffirm and define their own identities as

“Christians,” further cementing Christian motifs, tropes and defining features. For this reason, the minutiae of the site must be interpreted in light of the presence of the community, and social focus of Christian initiation. The art must be contextualized in terms of its impact on the

189 individual, and its resonance to the Christian community. I have argued, in this chapter, that worldly interpretations of the art best retain the social-focus of the Durene initiation ritual. For example, the Good Shepherd motif within the baptismal font is useful because it thoroughly depicts what is meant by Jesus’ flock- a community of purified, protected individuals. This interpretation seems most resonant to a community of Durenes, whose civil identities were so conditioned by war, militarism and the threat of invasions. These community-centric tropes do not preclude the individual’s own personal connection to the art; they simply better explain why such imagery was useful and appropriate for initiating new Christians. It is likely that Hera had a variety of personal reactions to the Good Shepherd. However, the symbol’s potency in initiation is best explained by exploring its meaning to a lived community, rather than its meaning in

Christian doctrines or eschatology.

The second principle of Durene baptism was it was a cumulative initiation. The initiate was not simply submerged in water and sent into a Hall to take Eucharist. Baptism was a cumulative process of building identity, trope-by-trope, and it was intimately connected to place.

Durene initiation was a steady, effective, and sequential instilling of key tropes and identity markers. The material conditions of the site imply that the initiation was conducted by the performance of a series of ritual steps. These ritual steps occurred within their own “station” within the Baptistery. Each of these stations contained a confluence of tropes, clustering key ideas and themes that were instilled as “Christian identity” over the course of the ritual. Within this initiation-matrix, the Baptistery place was divided up into a series of interconnected, sequential “mini-places.” As the initiate experienced a baptismal station within the Baptistery, the relationship between their mobile, ritualized body and the materiality of the space conditioned their conception of Christianity. Therefore, the tropes associated with Christian

190 teachings and Christian identity, (implied and enforced by Biblical art situated at these stations), must be read in conjunction with the ritual step that occurred at each station. For example, the anointing that occurred alongside the David and Goliath fresco in the “anointing station” of the

Baptistery (as well as the actual oil used to anoint the initiate) greatly informed the interpretation of the fresco. “David” could be interpreted to a Syrian Durene in a variety of ways; however, the ideas that clustered together with “David” in the space, such as “oil,” “sealing,” “anointing,” and

“purification,” greatly inform the dominant reading of the art. In turn, this interpretation guided the initiate’s overall understanding of what baptism and Christian identity entail. The stations of the Baptismal ritual were marked out with particular, intentionally-chosen fresco art. When this art was read in light of the ritual action occurring around it, it illuminated a trope or “piece” of the cumulative initiation. As the ritual progressed, these pieces built and linked into a coherent, yet multi-faceted Christian identity.

The art and other forms of materiality in the space formed “zones” that can be read as indicating key features of Christian identity. To briefly summarize the findings in this chapter, the South Wall, with its anointing niche and fresco of David and Goliath, was devoted to anointing, with all the identifiable connotations this act entails. In this context, anointing served to physicalize the early idea of “seal;” this term, in conjecture with anointing, meant a mark of

Christian belonging. It also related to purification, and the ultimate dispelling of demonic forces, whether these be demons, doubts or disease. The benefits of receiving the seal of protection were simultaneously instilled in two ways as an initiate left the anointing niche and travelled towards the baptismal font. At the Eastern wall, he/she encountered the life-sized, Processional woman, moving in the same direction through the space. If Hera’s inscription is any indication, the initiate closely identified with these women. This art, located at eye-level on the Lower Register

191 of art, served to create additional witnesses to the events of the Upper Register of the North

Wall. These Upper Registers formed their own zone; a zone where Christ’s miracles were deliberately shown to be connected to the initiate’s faith. Hera, an embodied “witness” to these miracles, continued to experience the feel of the anointing seal, a mark of belonging to a community. This community increasingly, through ritual movement throughout the space, was one defined by witnessing Christ’s miracles, partaking in them through their faith. This led to an association of Christian miracles with ever-increasing protection- from dangers, and from diseases, and eventually from death itself. This was, above all, understood on a physical, lived level. These pictures, and this polysemic sequence of art along the two registers, formed the dominant imagery of the space. The materiality cumulatively built a very specific type of

“Christian” place for initiation- just as the whole building was redesigned with this central ritual concern. In the case of the Baptistery, the key tropes and themes of Christian initiation were condensed, heightened, and made visceral and meaningful. The Baptismal place worked to instil the idea that belonging to Christianity was being sealed, or being enveloped in this disease-free, purified zone. As the initiation was complete, the initiate associated herself with this sealed space and associated its benefits with the community about to be joined.

As Hera moved to the baptismal font, she stood in the tub, and experienced the “seal of the seal,” as stated in the Acts of Thomas. While this occurred, she embodied the “joining of the flock” that is portrayed in the fresco behind her. The Good Shepherd pictorial type occurred in this space, and it situated Durene Christianity within the standard trajectory of pre-Constantinian

Christian art. The “community” suggested in this example was modelled after a Roman concept of adoption; it reflected an initiation into a socially advantageous collective, rather than a biologically bound family. It was also a community who was advantageously protected by the

192

Good Shepherd figure. This idea of “sealing” and enclosure, established so readily in the other stations of the Baptistery, was perpetuated and solidified even as the pivotal affusion occurred.

As the initiate prepared to leave the confines of the sealed Baptismal place, she was imprinted with the qualities that were so associated with the initiation ritual- purification and protection from demons. She also began to conflate the sealed threshold of the ritual space with a similar

“threshold” of the flock, the Christian community. As she exited the Baptistery to join this community, she viewed a Woman at the Well, a figure that she connected, through her catechesis and the ritual she experienced, to the idea of “living water.” The waters, and all they conveyed, in the Baptismal space, were shown to “spring eternally” in her.

The entire experience has major implications for Christian ritual at this early stage. The overall materiality and ritual of the Baptistery emphasizes purification, sealing, miracles of faith and healing, and builds a community who witness the miracles of Christ (culminating in their witnessing his resurrection in the art of the space). After the initiate ritualistically experienced these tropes, the community witnessed their full acceptance of Christ and their being marked with the final seal of Christian identity. The initiate could then leave ritual matrix marked as

Christians, embodying these key identity tropes through ritualization. The ritual process, culminating in another Christian place (the Assembly Hall) constructed a community that is defined, through association, with the ritual place. It was a “sealed,” beneficial, and more exclusive society within Dura. A “doctrine of salvation” is certainly legible from this space, but I would argue that the community was far more concretely defined by physical and earthly benefits. When read in their direct context- a Roman garrison town- the benefits implied, such as healing, strengthening, protection from external threats, were benefits associated with an advantageous station in life.

193

Christian baptism at Dura was the collection of tropes and markers that defined a collective, an exclusive group of people as having an advantageous or placement in Roman life.

Through initiation, they were healed, purified of demons, protected from physical and spiritual threats (the distinction between these types of threats being porous in Late Ancient society).

They were given these advantages through faith, but also through the shared, and exclusive experience, of witnessing Jesus Christ’s miracles and resurrection. Places such as the House

Church were venues for exclusive peoples, sharing the exclusive, pure, beneficial characteristics of the acquired community. They were absolutely essential in defining the identifiable link between newcomer and those who belonged.

194

CHAPTER 6: Conclusions and Implications for Future Scholarship:

The general argument I have made is that the Durene House Church must be understood, first and foremost, as place for initiation. It is neither “House,” nor “Church” insofar that those terms are understood today. Built to accommodate the baptismal initiation ritual, this ritual itself must be foregrounded in any analysis of this place. A focus on initiation, using the methods of ritual studies, place studies, and cognitive studies, showed how this place functioned to create a specific Durene Christian identity. The Durenes were part of the Roman Empire; they were heavily militarized and experienced a locale that drew on several, disparate influences. The materiality of the Christian ritual place suggests that early Durene Christians relied on a very

Durene model of initiation, with an emphasis on creating an exclusive “unit” within a larger society. The materiality of the place, and the experience of the ritualized body in this place, suggests that Durene Christians prioritized protection, purity, and physical benefits as the key facets of exclusive religious identity.

An overview of Durene Scholarship showed two trajectories of study, art history and archeology. Both these trajectories function as specific theoretical lens through which to view the

House Church; as with any lens, they reveal certain findings and obscure others. Claimed as part of the history of Christian art, the frescoes have been widely discussed as an independent subject.

This has led to analyses that place the frescoes within the context of Christian art development, rather than in the context of this specific Christian building. Moreover, the prioritization of the frescoes has obscured the rest of the building’s importance for the Durene Christian community.

The term “House-Church” reflects the dichotomization between the Baptistery and the rest of the

“House,” with researchers addressing cultic activity in the Baptistery alone. This has led to the

195 perpetuation of the domus ecclesia myth of early Christianity, which is predicated on Christians meeting covertly in houses to escape persecution.

Art historical examinations also tend to compare Durene Christian art with Roman

Christian art. As the frescoes do not look “Roman,” scholars such as Kraeling and Perkins have concluded that the Christianity practiced in Dura-Europos was similarly idiosyncratic, operating outside the standard Western-Christian themes and tropes.561 When the art of space “deviates” from standard artistic typology, the Christian identity of the Durenes has been treated as “non- normative,” or “Gnosticizing.”562 Wharton cautions against the “Orientalizing” approach to

Durene art; because it does not resemble Western art, Wharton warns that the terminology used to describe the population was similarly couched in Orientalism, which has problematic implications on the identity of the Christians in the city.563 Instead of being treated as non-

Roman Easterners, modern analysis strongly suggests that Durene Christians participated in the overall workings of Roman life. Reading the art with this in mind, regardless of its “Eastern” appearance, drastically changes the interpretation and identification of key tropes in the present

Biblical images.

Other art history approaches acknowledge the Syrian providence of the Durene

Christians, but define this location in anachronistically late terms. Syriac Christianity, for example, is a school that represents a significantly later development of Christianity. Peppard’s recent work, The Oldest Christian Church, is a thorough, step-by-step analysis of the key frescoes in the site. It situates them thoroughly within the Syriac theological tradition. In doing so, he emphasizes certain tropes and themes that are not supported in the ritual itself. These are,

561 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 121. 562 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 130-132. 563 Wharton, Reconfiguring the Post Classical City, 13-15. 196 namely, the inclusion of Marian “womb” theology and the overemphasis of wedding metaphors throughout the space. His findings have precedence in the later canon of Syriac literature, but do not accurately situate Durene Christians in their direct context.

Archeological approaches have begun to consider the ritual use of the house, though they also have the tendency to consider the House Church a disembodied space, rather than one intimately connected to the body through ritual initiation. The work of MacMullen, in particular, inspired this project, and the methodology used where within. His book The Second Church only tentatively touches on Dura-Europos, but it examines the House Church as an entity in its own right, and it primarily examines the materiality of the space. For example, MacMullen’s careful attention to the dimensions of the House Church’s Assembly Hall have shown that the space is insufficient as a meeting place for the projected total of Christians in the city. Knowing this, the

Church should be seen as servicing a more specific ritual. Re-centering ritual, and using the archeological evidence (of which the fresco art is certainly an example) is a useful tool with which to bring the human body back into the conversation.

The methods I have chosen in my investigation shed light on three things: the mechanics of ritual at Dura (what it was, rather than what it “meant” theologically); the prominence of the

Christian body, and the ritual interaction between the body and ritual space. I have chosen to use several methodologies to identify elements that are missed in the scholarly art historical/archeological binary. In order to maintain a prioritization of the body, ritual, and their interaction within a specific, meaningful place, I have chosen to use ritual studies and place studies as my main lenses. Ritual studies enables the scholar to reestablish the baptism ritual as the main subject of investigation. Ritual theory ensures that the ritual (and the body performing the ritual) remains foregrounded throughout the project. Bell’s methods from Ritual Theory,

197

Ritual Practice, were used throughout this project,564 and I regularly relied her ideas of ritualization, ritual agent, and communal dialectic, when considering ritual’s role in identity- creation for an initiate.565 Bell was also responsible for considering the role of ritual in creating communities and traditions, rather than the other way around. Initiation, with its focus on bringing an outsider into a new mode of being, is particularly important for developing communities and traditions. In order to fully consider Durene baptism as a multi-stage, communal endeavour, performance theory was also used to bolster ritual theory. I relied on the work of Grimes to more thoroughly consider the ritual as a mobile, sensual experience.

Performance studies, as applied to ritual by Grimes, better allows one to consider the ritual as mobile and interactive,566 with multiple bodies engaged, and with a better focus on materiality.

The famous frescoes of the site are certainly part of this materiality. In order to maintain ritual as the primary focus, I approached the frescoes from the perspective of haptic art viewing. As defined by Wharton, haptic art viewing was used to examine how art is viewed in a ritual, interactive context.567

The other major discipline that I drew upon is that of place studies. The “placial” turn of the humanities closely investigates the role of places on individual and communal identities, and considers place as a major component of cultural, civic, and religious identity. Concepts such as sense-of-place (as put forth by John Agnew568) enables the scholar to analyze the identities of inhabitants as informed by their location and their locale. I also relied on Seamon’s and Nordin’s

564 Bell, Ritual Theory, Ritual Practice, 1-200. 565 Bell, Ritual Theory, Ritual Practice, 20-40. 566 Grimes, Rite out of Place: Ritual, Media, and the Arts, 107. 567 Wharton, Reconfiguring the Post Classical City, 149. 568 Agnew, Place and Politics, 25.

198 metaphor of the “place-ballet” in order to examine place’s impact on identification and ritualized movement.569 The body is conditioned by the place it exists within, moving reflexively to accommodate its conditions. Cognitive studies (referred to as CSR in this project) was also used to examine the impact of ritual/material interaction on individual identity. Concepts such as agent ritualism, joint attention, and minimal counter-intuitiveness were used as methodological tools to augment ritual studies.570

Of course, liturgical texts cannot be discounted in any project that looks to address the mechanical workings of a ritual. Of the many Christian ritual pamphlets available to scholars, I chose those which were geographically appropriate and earlier/contemporaneous with the

Durene House Church. Greek, the language of the Durene Christian inhabitants was the preferred textual language, though I also relied on early Syriac-language documents that have early Greek translations. The sources most thoroughly used in this study were the Diatessaron, the Didache, the Didascalia Apostolarum, the Apostolic Tradition, and the Acts of Thomas.

I structured my investigation of the Durene Christians by treating their identity as a dynamic, placed, and multifaceted experience. In this, I examined their wider context for their identity, and I analyzed the wider “historic” identity of Dura and Durenes, before analyzing how their religious places and ritualistic identities reflected their place in the world. The third chapter of this work Dura-Europos was examined through place categories of location and locale.

Despite the early scholarly view of Dura- that it was a neglected backwater, and far more

“Eastern” than “Roman”- the excavations of the site provided ample evidence for the city’s

569 Seamon and Nordin, “Marketplace as Place-Ballet,” as quoted by Cresswell, Place: An Introduction, 63. 570 Czachesz, “The Promise of the Cognitive Science of Religion for Biblical Studies.” 199

Romanization. Though the architectural locale is a complex blend of Hellenized, Parthian, and

Roman influences, the city remains, functionally, Roman.

Dura-Europos is, in my analysis, a key case study through which to reconsider what is meant by “Roman.” Krautheimer, in one of the earliest reports on Dura Europos, concluded that the House Church was deliberately insular and enclosed in order to avoid Roman persecution.571

A thorough investigation of Durene locale, as conducted by Baird in The Secret Life of Ancient

Houses, easily disproves this. Durene architecture, due to the multiplicity of influences, and due to the conditions of the city, was enclosed and insular by type.572 There is no evidence that

Christianity emerged in the city until Roman occupation, suggesting that Durene Christianity was heavily informed by Roman presence. The Christian building, with the Roman architectural design of the baptismal font, certainly indicates that inhabitants were familiar with the Roman baths built in the same city block as their House Church. Romanization also coincided with an increase in general religious activity, and, more specifically, in initiation-based religions.

Religious initiation and religious identity, throughout the city, became associated with particular places (notably, places dedicated to initiation). The Durene Baptistery, and the Durene

Mithraeum are both sites that received additional attention and attendance during Dura’s

“waves” of Romanization. In such a pluralist environment, Christians were one group among many attempting to define their exclusive identity through religious initiation.

In this chapter, the primary sources highlighted in Chapter 2 were analyzed, and a general

“pattern” for Christian initiation was uncovered. To summarize some of the major insights from this review, the expected ritual stages to baptism are as follows: catechesis, disrobing, anointing,

571 Krautheimer, Early Christian and Byzantine Architecture, 28. 572 Baird, The Inner Lives of Ancient Houses, 20-30. 200 various prayers of waters, baptism (preferably outdoors, by full immersion), re-robing, and the partaking in the Eucharist with the Christian community. In Dura, several of these steps were altered to accommodate the community’s expectation of baptism and place. The Durenes prioritized an enclosed, interior Baptistery over the available Euphrates River. As I have previously established that Christians could theoretically conduct different ritual activities in many places, this speaks to a deliberate preference for a certain type of initiation space; the exact performance of the ritual- immersion vs affusion- was subject to the preferred and precedent place.

Chapter 4 analyzed why such a place was so ritually effective for initiating new members into the community. Working from the excavation notes from Kraeling, the renovations made to the Original House of Dura-Europos were analyzed.573 These renovations imply a deliberate consideration of the space in accordance to the ritual needs of the community. However else it may have functioned for the Durene Christian community, the House Church was created as an initiation centre. Its renovations strongly appear to have been guided by this ritual concern. The alterations made to Original House work to situate the stages of the baptismal ritual into different stages or components. The renovations, first and foremost, were not solely made to Room 6, the area which would eventually become the Baptistery. Instead, other areas of the Original House were thoroughly changed, and these changes reflect components of Christian initiation. These findings strongly indicate that baptismal initiation occurred, in some stage, throughout the entire house, and that the entire house was used, primarily, as initiation space. This is strong support for

MacMullen’s theories about Christian ritualism- that early Christians could feast, baptize, sermonize, and marry in a variety of specific places. The Dura-Europos House Church was

573 Kraeling, Excavations at Dura-Europos, 10-100. 201 renovated in order to play specific role in Dura-Europos- initiating new members to the Christian community.

The renovations made to the Original House also effectively concentrate on physicalizing movement associated with initiation. The space makes real and tangible a sense of moving from an external world of “outsiders,” into a protected, exclusive world of “insiders.” The changes made to the Original building, both large and small, communicate a sense of “inside vs outside.”

Graffiti is a particularly useful tool through which to examine this spatialization. It was frequently added to pivotal entrances and exits of the House Church. The graffiti, when ritual movement is considered, visually separates or marks out “insider” areas from the “outside world.” An insider to the community may see the graffiti’d markings and enter the private space indicated; an outsider to the community would be given pause. These markings are by-in-large apotropaic; they functioned to prevent demons from entering interior sanctums of the building.

The outside world, therefore, becomes associated with demons and impurities; the inner areas of the building, conversely, becomes associated with purity and protection.

Such a dichotomy functions to control and habituate movement throughout the House

Church. To extend the metaphor of place-ballet,574 insider-identity are “created” by habitually moving in a manner that allows them to access and inhabit the inner areas of the meaningful place. To summarize, the ritual stages of Christian baptism are “placed” in the following ways throughout the House Church. The catechesis largely occurred in the “open” courtyard, with liminal Room 5 functioning as a “preparatory” room for the baptismal processional. Room 5 was likely the site of exorcisms and disrobing/re-robing, defined as a space for initiate’s identity at its most liminal. Room 6 was, quite clearly, the Baptistery, and the subject of its own chapter and

574 Cresswell, Place: An Introduction, 63. 202 thorough investigation. Finally, Room 4 was enlarged to function as a modest Assembly Hall, wherein the newly initiated Christian could “complete” their baptismal ritual through the taking of Eucharist. This room, heavily marked off from the other areas in the house due to the rigorous placement of graffiti on its courtyard-facing walls, continuously defined the Christian community as a protected, purified network, one intimately associated with their initiation place.

The Assembly Hall, of course, could theoretically be used as meeting area for sermons, but the room is too small and lacks too many amenities for it to be the primary Christian meeting place for feasts and large group activities. The initiation ritual is the guiding principle for the entire

House Church, not simply the Baptistery.

The final chapter of this work investigated the Baptistery and the baptismal initiation ritual from the perspective of an initiate. Using a hypothetical initiate’s first-person perspective proved to be the most effective strategy to fully situate the ritual body within the ritual place. I focused on how this identity, and this place, defined Durene Christianity. For this reason, the art and minutiae of the Baptistery were closely analyzed. With meaningful art and Christian symbolism, the Baptistery is understood as a concentrated place (within a larger Christian

Church) that works as a locus for identity creation. While the entire House was renovated with initiation in mind, it is in the Baptistery where the catechumen begins to ritually experience and embody key features of Christian identity. Two key principles for analysis emerged in this chapter. The first is that community-focused initiation drastically informs the interpretation of the ritual action, and the art that is seen through ritual action. The second is that initiation within the Baptistery was not a singular, single-action event. The acquisition of Christian identity was a cumulative process, built to accommodate a gradual progression and deepening of key tropes. It is worthwhile, therefore, to analyze the Baptistery as “placing” this cumulative building of

203 identity in interconnected “stations.” The Baptistery, a matrix for Christian initiation, is a series of smaller, identifiable places. These “mini-places” are closely associated with a ritual stage for initiation. Therefore, the artistic tropes at each station can be interpreted through the ritual activity involved.

These tropes point to the major concerns of the Durene Christians, as well as which components of “Christianity” they prioritized as a community. The space shows significant evidence of ideas such as “healing,” “protections” and “purification” being prioritized in Durene

Christian identity. The Baptistery forms a bound, sealed, and protected place, compared to the open area of the courtyard, and the liminal, transitory space of Room 5. Upon entering, the initiate encounters a purified threshold. Their very first “ritual step” in the initiation is anointing; the initiate would walk to a niche in the South wall of the Baptistery, encounter a ritual agent, be rubbed with a significant amount of oil, and see a community of witnesses watching the event at the East wall. They would be “sealed,” their purified state instilled through the touch of the oil.

The oil, and the concept of sealing therefore guides the interpretation of the fresco; the initiate learns, ritually, to associate “oil,” with the protection from harm, and the “seal” as a mark of belonging to a protected community. This full-body anointing informs the rest of the cumulative initiation. As the initiate traverses the space further, they follow a Lower Register of Durene- looking Processional women; these are likely representative of the myrrophores who witnessed evidence of Christ’s resurrection. In turn, the initiate, bearing the mark of Christianity,

“witnesses” Upper Register miracle frescoes. These Upper Register frescoes form a “zone” of

Christ’s miracle work- work that promotes healing and protection in those who have faith in him.

The majority of this Northern wall space is devoted to images of healing, and the majority of the ritual steps revolve around some sort of bodily purifications and health. These benefits increase

204 as the initiate traverses space; they are sealed, and then they witness Christ saving Peter from drowning, and then Christ healing a Paralytic. The Good Shepherd motif, seen as the initiate reaches the Western baptismal font, is also read in conjecture with sealing, health, and protections. Here, however, the initiate is fully sealed, and fully “saved,” by accepting Christ and the miracle of his death and resurrection. This “salvation,” in conjecture with the rest of the ritual activity, emphasizing health, purification and protection, is felt as a lived, embodied condition.

The baptismal ritual is also witnessed with the community; it marks an entrance into a community associated with these benefits- the initiate experiences the waters just as the shepherd brings his flock to a river to drink. The “living water” suggested by the Woman at a Well fresco on the Southern wall does point to some development on the eternal salvation of Christianity.

Certainly, an image of “living water,” and the ultimate protection from death implied by the substance, deepens the baptismal affusion and makes the ritual act meaningful and omnipresent as the initiate leaves the baptismal space. There is little, however, to suggest a developed doctrine focusing on eschatology, though the presence of a later addition of an entombed Adam and Eve sketch speaks to the slow development of such a theology. The Durene Christians fundamentally, interpreted Christianity through a Romanized, Durene lens. The site emphasizes benefits, and they are benefits felt in the earthly, worldly context of community. Their ritual strongly points to consideration of Christianity in Romanized terms. They sought to build some type of exclusive community, the aim of other Roman initiatory cults.575 This exclusivity was not incompatible with Durene Roman existence; the community was comfortable with militarism and other codes of Roman life. Instead, they treated Christianity as a model of a beneficial, socially advantageous society that could exist within war-like, pluralist Dura.

575 Beck, The Religion of the Mithras Cult in the Roman Empire, 87. 205

The findings of this sort of analysis suggest that Durene Christianity was also not Syriac

Christianity. The materiality, in conjecture with the ritual, does not support bride-groom theology; the site has no explicit references to the wedding imagery that Ephrem would so popularize. Moreover, there is little about the art to suggest Marian theology, or images of virginity (another theme that was popular in Ephrem’s hymnology). Contrary to Peppard’s analysis, there does not appear to be a significant reliance on explicit rebirth, though this would be the dominant Syriac baptismal metaphor in the fourth and fifth century.576 Though geographically appropriate, there is no material evidence that the Durene Christians interpreted the baptismal ritual as exiting a womb into a new purified life. Instead, the Durene Christians, if not overly eschatological in their focus, do more thoroughly link baptism with the death- resurrection of Christ. The Lower Register more powerfully suggests a resurrection sequence than the bridal imagery that Peppard defends. Though the Durene Christians likely did not have a developed eschatology, the Pauline association between Christ’s death and rising, and the power of baptism, likely made its way to this community.

Ritually-focused baptismal analysis, such as done in this project, does have implications for further study on Syria and Syriac Christianity. Even if certain Syriac themes did not originate at Dura, this particular community may stand as evidence for the earliness and geographic range of certain tropes. One such trope is the interest in robing and clothing that can be seen in the

Baptistery and the House Church. The Durene baptismal ritual appears to ascribe a specific place for the disrobing that precedes the ceremony, and the re-robing in white robes that mark the change in status from catechumen to neophyte. The renewed, purified and protected state is communicated as a physical mark- in this case oil- which might speak to the perpetuation of

576 Peppard, The World’s Oldest Church, 114-115. 206

“clothing” and other marks of differentiated identity characterizing later school of Syriac

Christianity. Another insight that may be investigated more fully is how the Durene model developed into the Syriac baptismal tendency to dispense with the final baptismal chrism of oil, post-affusion. The ritual reality of Dura- where oil could not possibly be washed off with the living water- makes this final chrism redundant; the oil is still on the skin when the initiate leaves the font, having already thoroughly guided the ceremony and characterized the main themes of the initiation.

These findings suggest that new methods can profoundly alter preconceived expectations about early Christian identity. A renewed focus on places, and the body’s movement through and identification with them, is necessary for a renewed look at Christian liturgical development.

Findings suggest there might be a reordering of the way early Christian data is interpreted.

Instead of “reading” a baptistery according to liturgy, the place can be analyzed as an area where liturgical traditions were created and consolidated. Several ritual and cognitive considerations were not addressed in this project, in order to maintain a central focus on baptism. However, future scholarship could certainly consider the cognitive impacts of the Eucharist meal in this space, in order to fully examine the cognitive implications of fasting, feasting and alcohol on identity acquisition. Similarly, there has been significant research into magic and cognition conducted by Czachesz577 and contemporaries. I was unable to unpack how magic would be perceived by the Durene Christians; like their Syrian contemporaries, they clearly relied on apotropaic markers, and “magical objects.” Scholarship into the relationship between ritual, cognition, and the interpretation of magic could certainly employ Dura as a case study. However, where I would be most interested in extending this research is in the area of comparative studies,

577 Czachesz and Uro, Mind, Morality and Magic, 58. 207 especially with regards to initiatory places. It would be especially beneficial to comparatively study how Christians and their Jewish contemporaries embodied the Durene place in their religious lives. The Christian site reflects a focus on Roman- style initiation in the creation of religious place; it would be worthwhile to look to the Durene synagogue for similar and different guiding principles of religious place-making. The materiality available to me at this level of research made it impossible to explore from this angle; nevertheless, the Durene Synagogue has yielded a wealth of well-preserved art and minutiae. It may also be analyzed from the context of place and cross-referenced with the Durene materials to give better insight into the overall religious matrix of pre-Constantinian Roman Syria.

208

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Primary Sources:

Anon. Odes of Solomon. Translated by James H. Charlesworth. In Gnostic Scriptures and Fragments: The Gnostic Society Library. 1977. http://gnosis.org/library/odes.htm.

Anon. The Acts of Thomas: Introduction, Text, and Commentary. Translated by A. F. J. Klijn. Leiden: Brill, 2003. ProQuest Ebook Central.

Anon. The Didache: Faith Hope & Life of the Earliest Christian Communities, 50-70 C.E., Translated and commentary by Aaron Milavec. New York: The Newman Press, 2003.

Anon. The Didascalia Apostolorum-The Syriac Version: Translated and Accompanied by the Verona Latin Fragment. Translated, introduction and notes by R. Hugh Connolly. Oxford: Oxford University Press. 1929.

Anon. Didascalia Apostolorum in Syriac. Edited from a Mesopotamian Manuscript with Various Readings and Collations of Other MSS. Translated by Margaret Dunlop Gibson. Cambridge Library Collection-Religion, 1903. SpringerLink Ebooks.

Ephrem the Syrian. Commentary on Tatian's Diatessaron: An English Translation of Chester Beatty Syriac MS 709 with Introduction and Notes. Translated by Carmel McCarthy. London and New York: Oxford University Press, 1994.

Ephrem the Syrian. Hymns. Translated by Kathleen E. McVey. Preface by John Meyendorff. New Jersey: Paulist Press, 1989.

Hippolytus (pseudo). The Apostolic Tradition. Translated, introduction and notes by Paul F. Bradshaw and Maxwell E. Johnson. Hermeneia Series- A Critical and Historical Commentary on the Bible. Edited by Harold W. Attridge. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2002.

Holms, Micheal W., ed. The Greek New Testament: SBL Edition. Logos Project Faithlife. 2010. https://www.logos.com/product/8486/the-greek-new-testament-sbl-edition

Kraeling, Carl H. A Greek Fragment of Tatian’s Diatessaron From Dura. In Studies and Documents, edited Kirsopp Lake and Silva Lake, 37-39. London: Christopher’s, 1935.

Kraeling, Carl Hermann. “Aerial View of Floor Plan- Dura-Europos Christian Building.” In Page 4 of The Excavations at Dura-Europos. Final Report VIII. Part II: The Christian Building. New York: J. Augustin Publisher, 1967. Pg 4. Accessed through Yale University Gallery Online-Dura Europos: Excavating Antiquity, Open Access. http://media.artgallery.yale.edy/duraeuropos/dura.html

209

Niederwimmer, Kurt. The Didache: A Commentary by Kurt Niederwimmer. Translated by Linda M. Maloney. Hermeneia Series- A Critical and Historical Commentary on the Bible. Edited by Harold W. Attridge. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1998.

Tatian, “Tatian’s Diatessaron,” Translation and commentary from the Syriac by W. L. Peterson. In Ancient Christian Gospels: Their History and Development, ed. Helmut Koester, 400- 460. Harrisburg: Trinity Press, 1990.

Secondary Sources:

Agnew, John A. Place and Politics: The Geographic Mediation of State and Society. New York: Routledge, 1987.

Agnew, John A. and Livingston, D. The SAGE Handbook of Geographical Knowledge. Newbury Park: SAGE Publications, 2011.

Arel, Stephanie A. Affect Theory, Shame and Christian Formation. New York: Springer Publishing, 2016.

Baird, J. B. “Photographing Dura-Europos, 1928–1937: An Archaeology of the Archive." American Journal of Archaeology 115, no. 3 (2011): 427-46. JSTOR.

Baird, J. B. The Inner Lives of Ancient Houses: An Archaeology of Dura-Europos. New York: Oxford University Press, 2014.

Barrett, Justin L. Templeton Science and Religion Series: Cognitive Science, Religion, and Theology: From Human Minds to Divine Minds. West Conshohocken: Templeton Press, 2011.

Bauer, Walter. Orthodoxy and Heresy in Earliest Christianity. Translated by Robert. A Kraft. 2nd Edition. Mifflintown: Sigler Press, 1996.

Beck, Roger. The Religion of the Mithras Cult in the Roman Empire: Mysteries of the Unconquered Sun. Oxford Scholarship Online: 2010. (Accessed June 20, 2016.) http://www.oxfordscholarship.com.ezproxy.lib.ucalgary.ca/view/10.1093/acprof:oso/97801 99216130.001.0001/acprof-9780199216130.

Beck, Roger. “On Becoming a Mithraist: New Evidence for the Propagation of the Mysteries.” In Religious Rivalries in the Early Roman Empire and the Rise of Christianity, edited by Leif E. Vaage, 175-196. Waterloo and Kitchener: Canadian Corporation for Studies in Religion and Wilfred Laurier University, 2006.

Beck, Roger. “The Religious Market of the Roman Empire: Rodney Stark and Christianity’s Pagan Competition. In Religious Rivalries in the Early Roman Empire and the Rise of Christianity, edited by Leif E. Vaage, 233- 252. Waterloo and Kitchener: Canadian Corporation for Studies in Religion and Wilfred Laurier University, 2006.

210

Behr, John. Irenaeus of Lyons: Identifying Christianity. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013.

Bell, Catherine M. Ritual Theory, Ritual Practice. New York and London: Oxford University Press, 1992.

Bowes, Kim. Private Worship, Public Values, and Religious Change in Late Antiquity. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008.

Boyer, P. and C. Ramble, C. “Cognitive Templates for Religious Concepts: Cross-cultural Evidence for Recall of Counter-intuitive Representations.” Cognitive Science 25 (2001): 535‒564. http://dx.doi.org/10.1207/s15516709cog2504_2.

Boyer, P. The Naturalness of Religious Ideas: A Cognitive Theory of Religion. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1994.

Bradshaw, Paul. Early Christian Worship: A Basic Introduction to Ideas and Practice. Cogeville: The Liturgical Press, 1996.

Bradshaw, P. F. The Search for the Origins of Christian Worship: Sources and Methods for the Study of Early Liturgy. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1992.

Brock, Sebastian. Fire from Heaven: Studies in Syriac Theology and Liturgy. Farnham: Ashgate Publishing Ltd, 2006.

Brock, Sebastian. The Luminous Eye: The Spiritual World Vision of Saint Ephrem. Kalamazoo: Cistercian Publications Inc., 1992.

Brock, Sebastian, translator. The Syriac Fathers on Prayer and the Spiritual Life: Introduced and Translated by Sebastian Brock. Kalamazoo: Cistercian Publications Inc, 1987.

Brody, Lisa R., and Gail L. Hoffman. Dura-Europos: Crossroads to Antiquity. Boston: McMullen Museum of Art, 2011.

Buell, Denise Kimber. Making Christians: Clement of Alexandria and the Rhetoric of Legitimacy. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1990.

Burns Jr., J. Patout and Robin M. Jensen. Christianity in Roman Africa: The Development of its Practices and Beliefs. Grand Rapids: Wm B. Eerdmans Publishing Co, 2014.

Burns, Robert. Origins of the Colonnaded Streets in the Cities of the Roman East. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017.

Cianca, Jenn. Sacred Ritual, Profane Space: The Roman House as Early Christian Meeting Place. SCJ 1; Montreal & Kingston: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2018.

Cresswell, Tim. Place: An Introduction. Second Edition. Hoboken: Wiley Blackwell, 2015. 211

Czachesz, István. Cognitive Science and the New Testament: A New Approach to Early Christian Research. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017.

Czachesz, István. “The Promise of the Cognitive Science of Religion for Biblical Studies.” CSSR Bulletin 37, no. 4 (2007): http://www.religionandcognition.com/publications/czachesz_cssr.pdf

Czachesz, István and Uro, Risto. Mind, Morality and Magic: Cognitive Science Approaches in Biblical Studies. New York: Routledge, 2014.

Cornell, Tim and Matthews, John. “Dura Europos.” In Atlas of the Roman World. London: Phaidon Press, 1982. Accessed from Facts on File. Lyrasis.

Downey, Susan B. “The Transformation of Seleucid Dura-Europos.” In Romanization and the City, Creation, Transformations, and Failures. Proceedings of a Conference Held At the American Academy in Rome, 14 - 16 May 1998. Ed. Elizabeth Fentress. Journal of Archeology-Supplementary Series, 38. (Rome. 2000).154-172

“Dura-Europos Map.” Location showing Modern Dura-Europos (Deir ez-Zor), Syria. Image from: Google Maps: https://www.google.ca/maps/place/Dura+Europos/@34.7154861,40.6575375,18546m/dat a=!3m1!1e3!4m12!1m6!3m5!1s0x15462eb36e0bbb9b:0x6650c0077a8b924!2sDura+Eur opos!8m2!3d34.7487201!4d40.7297969!3m4!1s0x15462eb36e0bbb9b:0x6650c0077a8b 924!8m2!3d34.7487201!4d40.7297969

Elsner, Jas. “Cultural Resistance and the Visual Image: The Case of Dura Europos” Classical Philology 96, no. 3 (July 2001): 269-304. JSTOR.

Elsner, Jas. Roman Eyes: Visuality & Subjectivity in Art & Text. New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 2007.

Ferguson, Everett. The Early Church at Work and Worship Volume 2: Catechesis, Baptism, Eschatology, and Martyrdom. Cambridge: James Clark & Co, 2014.

Frood, Elizabeth and Raja, Rubina. Redefining the Sacred. Religious Architecture and Text in the Near East and Egypt 1000 BC- AD 300. Turnhout: Brepols Publishers, 2014.

Gregoratti, Leonard. “Dura-Europos: A Greek Town of the Parthian Empire.” In Hellenism to Islam: Cultural and Linguistic Change in the Roman Near East, edited by Hannah M. Cotton, Robert G. Hoyland, Jonathan J. Price, David J. Wasserstein, 16-29. New Haven: Cambridge University Press, 2009.

Grimes, Ronald L. Life Passages: Deeply into the Bone: Re-Inventing Rites of Passage. California: University of California Press Online, 2000.

212

Grimes, Ronald L. Rite out of Place: Ritual, Media, and the Arts. Oxford/New York: Oxford University Press, 2006.

Grimes, Ronald L. The Craft of Ritual Studies. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014.

Harvey, Susan Ashbrook. “Praying Bodies at Prayer: Ritual Relations in Early Syriac Christianity.” In Spiritual Life 4, edited by Pauline Allen et al.149-162. Sydney: St. Paul’s Publications, 2006

Harvey, Susan Ashbrook. “St. Ephrem on the Scent of Salvation.” In Journal of Theological Studies 49, 1 (1998): 109-128. doi:10.1093/jts/49.1.109.

Harvey, Susan Ashbrook. “Syria and Mesopotamia.” in The Cambridge History of Christianity: Volume 1, Origins to Constantine, edited by Margaret M. Mitchell, Frances M. Young, and K. Scott Bowie. 351–66. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006

Heine, Ronald E. Origen, Scholarship in the Service of the Church: Christian Theology in Context. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010.

Hendricks, H. “The House Church in Paul’s Letters.” Theology Annual. 12 (1990-1991): 154- 166. http://archive.hsscol.org.hk/Archive/periodical/abstract/A012j.htm.

James, Simon. Excavations at Dura-Europos 1928-1937 Final Report VII: The Arms and Armour and Other Military Equipment. London: British Museum Press, 2004.

Jensen, Robin M. Baptismal Imagery in Early Christianity: Ritual, Visual, and Theological Dimensions. Michigan: Baker Books, 2012.

Jensen, Robin M. “Material and Documentary Evidence for the Practice of Early Christian Baptism.” Journal of Early Christian Studies 20 no. 3 (2012): 371-405. Project Muse.

Jensen, Robin M. Understanding Early Christian Art. New York: Routledge, 2000.

Jensen, Robin. Living Water: Images, Symbols, and Settings of Early Christian Baptism. Vigiliae Christianae, Supplements Series. Boston: Brill Publishing Company, 2010.

Joosten, Jan. "Tatian's Diatessaron and the Old Testament Peshitta", Journal of Biblical Literature; The Society of Biblical Literature 120, no. 3 (Autumn, 2001): 501–523. JSTOR.

Kaizer, Ted. “Religion and Language in Dura-Europos.” In Hellenism to Islam: Cultural and Linguistic Change in the Roman Near East, edited by Hannah M. Cotton, Robert G. Hoyland, Jonathan J. Price, David J. Wasserstein, 235-254 Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009.

Klaver, Sanne. “The Brides of Christ: The Women in the Procession in the Baptistery at Dura 213

Europos.” Eastern Christian Art 9 (2013): 63-79. ATLA Religion Database with ATLASerials, EBSCO

Kraeling, Carl Hermann. The Excavations at Dura-Europos. Final Report VIII. Part II: The Christian Building. New York: J. Augustin Publisher, 1967.

Krautheimer, Richard. Early Christian and Byzantine Architecture. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1965.

Lössel, Josef. “An Inextinguishable Memory: Pagan Past and Presence in Early Christian Writing. Being Christian in Late Antiquity: A Festschrift for Gillian Clark, edited by Carl Harrison, Caroline Humfress, and Isabella Sandwell, 74-89. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014.

Malina, Bruce J. The New Testament World: Insights from Cultural Anthropology. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2001.

MacMullen, Ramsay. The Second Church: Popular Christianity A.D. 200–400. Boston: Brill Publishing Company, 2009.

Millar, Patricia Cox. Divinations: Rereading Late Ancient Religion: The Corporeal Imagination: Signifying the Holy in Late Ancient Christianity. University of Pennsylvania Press Online, February 2012. http://site.ebrary.com.ezproxy.lib.ucalgary.ca/lib/ucalgary/detail.action?docID=10576095 &p00=patricia+cox+miller.

Moore, Anne. Domus Ecclesiae. Embodied Experience and Liturgical Space in Ante Pacem Christianity. Calgary: Draft Copy, 2015.

Moxnes, Halvor. Putting Jesus in His Place: A Radical Vision of Household and Kingdom. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010.

Mundy, P., Sullivan, L., and Mastergeorge, A. M. “A Parallel and Distributed‐ Processing Model of Joint Attention, Social Cognition and Autism.” Autism Research 2: (2009), 2-21. doi:10.1002/aur.61.

Myers, Susan E. Spirit Epicleses in the Acts of Thomas. Heidelberg: Mohr Seibeck, 2010.

Norvell, Sarah (curator). “Painting in Time: Discovery, Analysis, and Interpretation of a Roman Shield from Dura-Europos” (2017). Whitney Exhibit for the Humanities with Ancient Art and Conservation Departments of the Yale University Art Gallery and the Yale Institute for the Preservation of Cultural Heritage. https://whc.yale.edu/gallery- whitney/exhibit/painting-time

214

Peppard, Michael. “Illuminating the Dura-Europos Baptistery: Comparanda for the Female Figures.” Journal of Early Christian Studies. 20, no. 4 (Winter 2012): 543-574. https://doi.org/10.1353/earl.2012.0035.

Peppard, Micheal. “Saving Syria.” In America: The National Catholic Review. January 18-25. 2016 Issue. http://www.americamagazine.org/issue/saving-syria

Peppard, Michael. The World’s Oldest Church. Bible, Art and Ritual at Dura Europos, Syria. (New Haven: Yale Scholarship Online, 2016). http://yale.universitypressscholarship.com.ezproxy.lib.ucalgary.ca/view/10.12987/yale/978 0300213997.001.0001/upso-9780300213997.

Perkins, Ann Louise. The Art of Dura-Europos. Oxford: Claredon Press, 1973.

Post, Paul, et al. Sacred Spaces and Contested Identities: Space and Ritual Dynamics in Europe and Africa. Trenton: Africa World Press, 2014.

Ray, R. Roth, and White, N. “Constructing Dura-Europos, Ancient and Modern.” In Roman Spaces, Heritage Traces: Past and Present Roman Place-Making, edited by C. Fenwick, K. Lafrenz Samuels, and D. Totten, 25-40. Oxford: Oxbow. 2016.

Schibille, N. “Early Christian Architecture: The Beginnings.” Review of ‘The Sacred Architecture of Byzantium. Art, Liturgy and Symbolism in Early Christian Churches.” Original author: Nicholas N. Patricios. The Harvard Theological Review 82, no. 3 (July, 1989), 393–395.

Schwartz, Daniel L. Paideia and Cult: Christian Initiation in Theodore of Mopsuestia. Hellenic Studies 57. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2013.

Scloeder, Steven J. “The Myth of the Domus Ecclesia,” Online Edition, Vol. XVIII, no. 5. (August 2012): 30. https://adoremus.org/temp_archives/0812Schloeder.html.

Seamon, David and Nordin, Christina. “Marketplace as Place-Ballet: A Swedish Example,” in Landscape 24 (January 1980): 35–41. Research Gate.

Smith, Jonathan Z. To Take Place: Toward Theory in Ritual. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992.

Snyder, Graydon F. “Pictures in Dialogue: A Viewer-Centered Approach to the Hypogeum on Via Dino Compagni.” Journal of Early Christian Studies 13 no. 3 (2005): 349-386. Project Muse.

Snyder, Graydon F. Ante Pacem: Archaeological Evidence of Church Life Before Constantine. Macon: Mercer University Press, 2003.

Sommer, Michael. “Acculturation, Hybridity, Créolité.” In Religion, Society and Culture at

215

Dura-Europos, edited by Ted Kaizer, 57–67. Yale Classical Studies. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016.

Swift, Ellen and Anne Alwis. “The Role of Late Antique Art in Christian Worship: A Reconsideration of the Iconography of the ‘Starry Sky’ in the Mausoleum of Galla Placidia.” Papers of the British School at Rome 78 (2010): 193-217.

Tepper, Yotam and Leah di Segni. “A Christian Prayer Hall of the Third Century C.E. at Kefar.” Óthnay. Legio. Jerusalem: IAA Publications: Jerusalem, 2006. Academia.org.

Thatcher, Tom. "John's Memory Theater: The Fourth Gospel and Ancient Mnemo-Rhetoric." The Catholic Biblical Quarterly 69, no. 3 (July 2007): 487-505. ALTA Database.

Tomkins, Silvan S. Affect Imagery Consciousness: Anger and Fear. Volume 3. New York: Springer, 1991.

Tzaferis, V. “Inscribed To God Jesus Christ.” Biblical Archaeology Review. 33, no. 2, (March/April 2007): 45, https://web.archive.org/web/20100522142714/http://www.bib- arch.org/online-exclusives/oldest-church-02.asp. . Uro, Risto. Rituals and Christian Beginnings: A Socio-Cognitive Analysis. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016.

Vaage, Leif E. “Ancient Religious Rivalries and the Struggle for Success: Christians, Jews, and Others in the Early Roman Empire.” In Religious Rivalries in the Early Roman Empire and The Rise of Christianity, edited Leif E. Vaage, 3-20. Waterloo and Kitchener: Canadian Corporation for Studies in Religion and Wilfred Laurier University, 2006.

Wallace-Handrill, Andrew. Houses and Society in Pompeii and Herculaneum. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1994.

Weisman, Stefanie. "Militarism in the Wall Paintings of the Dura-Europos Synagogue: A New Perspective on Jewish Life on the Roman Frontier." Shofar 30, no. 3 (2012): 1-34. EBSCO

Weitzmann, Kurt and Kessler, Herbert L. The Frescoes of the Dura Synagogue and Christian Art: Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection. Washington: Dumbarton Oaks, 1990.

Wharton, Annabel Jane. Reconfiguring the Post Classical City: Dura Europos, Jerash, Jerusalem and Ravenna. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995.

White, L. Michael. The Social Origins of Christian Architecture. Volume I: Building God’s House in the Roman World: Architectural Adaption among Pagans, Jews, and Christians. Baltimore: John Hopkins University Press, 1990.

216

Whitehouse, Harvey. “Modes of Religiosity. A Cognitive Theory of Religious Transmission.” Marburg Journal of Religion 11, no. 1 (June 2006). 1- 194. http://www.isca.ox.ac.uk/fileadmin/ICEA/ICEA_publication_pdfs/HW_2002_Modes_of_ Rel__cognitive_explanation.pdf.

Wilson, R. McL. (trans). New Testament Apocrypha, Volume One: Gospels and Related Writings Revised Edition. Ed. Wilhelm Schneemelcher. Louisville: John Knox Press, 1991.

217

Appendices

Appendix A1: Figure 1. Location showing Modern Dura-Europos (Deir ez-Zor), Syria. Image from: Google Maps: https://www.google.ca/maps/place/Dura+Europos/ @34.7154861,40.6575375,18546m/data=!3m1!1e3!4m12!1m6!3m5! 1s0x15462eb36e0bbb9b:0x6650c0077a8b924!2sDura+Europos!8m2!3d34.7487201! 4d40.7297969!3m4!1s0x15462eb36e0bbb9b:0x6650c0077a8b924!8m2!3d34.7487201! 4d40.7297969 Appendix A2: Topographic Figure 2. Image of Dura-Europos, showing grid system of the ancient city. Reprinted from “Painting in Time: Discovery, Analysis, and Interpretation of a Roman Shield from Dura-Europos” (2017). Curated by Sarah Norvell. Whitney Exhibit for the Humanities with Ancient Art and Conservation Departments of the Yale University Art Gallery and the Yale Institute for the Preservation of Cultural Heritage. https://whc.yale.edu/gallery-whitney/exhibit/painting-time Appendix A3: Topographic Figure 3. Image of wadi and Euphrates River to show elevation of ancient city of Dura-Europos. Reprinted from “Dura-Europos” in Atlas of the Roman World (1982), by Tim Cornell and John Matthews. From Facts on File-public access Pg. 160. Appendix B: “David and Goliath.” Fresco of the Lower Register, South Wall, Dura- Europos Baptistery, View from Front. As viewed while on display at Yale University Art Gallery, 2017, author’s own photo. Appendix C1: “Processional Women,” Fresco of Lower Register, North Wall, Dura- Europos Baptistery, View from approach from “Southeast.” As viewed while displayed at Yale University Art Gallery, 2017, author’s own photo.

Appendix C2: A“Processional Women,” Fresco of Lower Register, North Wall, Dura- Europos Baptistery, View from approach from Front, close-up to show detail. As viewed while displayed at Yale University Art Gallery, 2017, author’s own photo. Appendix C3: Close- up View of Oil Jar in fresco of the “Processional Women,” North Wall, Lower Register, Dura-Europos Baptistery Direct View. As viewed while displayed at Yale University Art Gallery, 2017, author’s own photo.

Glass oil jar, 3rd century Syria. Direct view. As viewed while displayed at Yale University Art Gallery, 2017, author’s own photo. Appendix D1: “Miracle Frescos of the North Wall (Jesus Walking on Water and The Healing of the Paralytic).” Direct View. As viewed while displayed at Yale University Art Gallery, 2017, author’s own photo. Appendix D2: “Peter walking on water.” North wall fresco, Upper Register, Dura Europos Baptistery. Direct View. As viewed while displayed at Yale University Art Gallery, 2017, author’s own photo. Appendix E: “The Healing of the Paralytic.” Northwest end of North Wall of the Dura Europos Baptistery. Direct View. As viewed while displayed at Yale University Art Gallery, 2017, author’s own photo.

Appendix F1: “The Good Shepherd.” Western Wall niche, Upper Register, of the Dura- Europos Baptistery. Direct View. As viewed while displayed at Yale University Art Gallery, 2017, author’s own photo. Appendix F2: The Good Shepherd.” Western Wall niche, Upper Register, of the Dura- Europos Baptistery. Close-Up for detailed view of “flock.” As viewed while displayed at Yale University Art Gallery, 2017, author’s own photo. Appendix F3: “Dura Mithraeum, Taurectony.” Comparative view of “alter” in Roman- Syrian initiation context. As displayed as reconstruction at Yale University Art Gallery, 2017, author’s own photo. Appendix G: “Woman at the Well.” Wall fresco from South Wall, Lower Register of Dura-Europos Baptistery. Direct View. As viewed while displayed at Yale University Art Gallery, 2017, author’s own photo. Appendix H: “Aerial view of Floor Plan-Dura-Europos Christian Building.” In The Excavations at Dura-Europos: Final Report VIII Part II: The Christian Building (1967) by Carl Kraeling, page 4. Accessed through Yale University Art Gallery Online-Dura Europos: Excavating Antiquity, Open Access. http://media.artgallery.yale.edu/ duraeuropos/dura.html